Chapter 43: Scheming

A/N: Dialog marked with an asterisk ("*") is quoted from The Mentalist Byzantium episode script.

Jane-Lisbon Apartment, Austin, Wednesday Night

Moonlight laid ghostly fingers across their bed through the blinds. Jane lay still in the cool dim room, staring at the ceiling while he idly stroked her back.

Lisbon stirred. Quietly, "If we're gonna lie awake, talk to me."

"Hm?"

"What's on your mind?"

"Nothing. ... Thinking how strange people are."

"Who?" She rolled over then nestled back against his side. He contented himself with rubbing silky hair between his fingers.

"Abbott."

She nudged him. "Don't make me drag it out of you."

"Abbott insisted I not go after 'an innocent man.' Direct quote." The pillowcase rustled as he shook his head. "I mean, Peterson's blackmailing him."

"What's strange?"

He huffed. "Hardly innocent."

"Abbott has to live with himself. He worries more about living up to his personal standards than what Peterson did wrong."

Amused, "I bet you relate to that."

This nudge was sharper, her tone wry, "And you don't?"

A note of sadness crept in, "Maybe I do."

She swallowed, sorry to have touched on that. She changed the subject, "How will you get the bullet from Peterson?"

"He'll give it to me – Sam, actually."

"So that's why you called Pete. How do they fit in?"

"Blatt's new, just opened his Austin office. Peterson's contacts with Blatt's office started during the case–

"-Charming. Planned to blackmail Abbott all along," Lisbon said in disgust.

"-but he stayed in San Antonio during the investigation. Sam poses as Blatt's assistant, Missy Bramer, meets him at a restaurant Thursday, expresses interest. Peterson gives her the bullet for Monday's hearings, either then or Friday."

"He could just FedEx it to Blatt in D.C."

"But won't. Peterson's all about enemies out to destroy him, especially after the investigation. He'll need to hand it over personally."

"Then what?"

"I'll give it to Abbott." He added, "He wouldn't bend to blackmail by Peterson. Blackmail by me won't work either."

She propped herself on her elbows to look him in the face. "How do you get him to change your agreement?"

"Convince him it's the right thing to do."

She flopped back down. "Oh God."

"Think, Lisbon. It's the only thing that will work."

"I'm listening."

He drew her close and kissed her temple. Her slight form was stiff with tension. "You cops are a stubborn lot. You didn't help me kill Red John because I wanted revenge. Took years for you to convince yourself it was the right thing to do."

"Wasn't 'right,'" she objected half-heartedly. "Was the only way to stop him."

"Abbott has to feel it's best for the FBI. I know I can persuade him."

She sighed. "Hope so."

Jane tucked the sheet under his chin and settled deeper into the pillow. Soon his slow, deep breathing told her he was asleep. It was a while before she joined him.

Eight hours later Lisbon was dressed and ready to go. She went into the bedroom and shook Jane's shoulder as he lay sleeping. "Hey. Gonna be late for work."

"Personal day," he mumbled. He yawned and sat up. "Set things up to trap Peterson," his thoughts immediately turning to his sting.

She sat on the edge of the bed and sipped her coffee. Noticing the familiar gleam in his eyes she said, "You enjoy scheming way too much. I swear I'm shacking up with Mephistopheles."

Delighted, "We're at the shacking up stage?" He leaned over and gave her a sloppy kiss. "You know that's why you love me, dear." Returning to the topic, "–I know how to play it to get the bullet. Still need proof Peterson's dirty." He frowned as he dressed. "Wylie didn't find any inexplicably large bank deposits or investments when he researched Peterson."

Lisbon thought aloud, "If he wasn't taking pay-offs, maybe he was skimming drugs. He was at most raids. Unusual for a state director."

Jane affected a British accent as he tucked his shirt in. "By George, I think you've got it!"

She threw him a long-suffering glance. "Didn't Wylie say he has a top-of-the-line security system?"

"Yes he did, come to think of it. Fits his personality. –We can search Peterson's house in San Antonio while he's up here meeting with Sam."

"Ignoring that breaking and entering is illegal, can you get in?"

He nodded. "Wylie told me the make of the system. Grace said she can hack it. She'll record the codes when he comes home." Lisbon sighed, anything but happy. Seeing her discomfort, "-Lisbon, I can do this alone."

"Faster with two. And I'll keep you out of trouble."

A few minutes later she left as Jane was preparing tea in the kitchen. She set aside concerns about the B&E when she arrived at work.

FBI, Austin, Thursday

Lisbon noticed Pike at Abbott's desk as soon as she walked in. Abbott's e-mail confirmed that Pike was subbing. Again. She went to the break room for coffee. Fischer was the only one there.

"'Morning, Lisbon."

"Fischer." She looked down as she prepared her coffee. "Schultz ordered the investigation into Peterson's failed drug raid, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"How do Schultz and Peterson get along?"

Fischer snorted. "Agents who work with her say they hate each other. Why?"

"Just curious. –So Abbott's out again?"

"Helping Lena prep." With a hint of regret, "Her confirmation is the last thing before he accepts a position in D.C."

"Oh?"

"The Blake case put him up for promotion, work at the national level."

"How's that affect you?"

"Me?"

"You – uh, you're kind of his protégé." As seconds ticked by Lisbon's face grew red, afraid she'd stuck her foot in her mouth.

Finally, "Dennis asked if I wanted to go to D.C." She stopped. Lisbon waited silently. "I don't think that's a good move for me."

Lisbon frowned. "Abbott thinks highly of you. Seems you and he are back on good terms," she said delicately. Despite the detention fiasco, her work had been exemplary after she started working on Blake.

Voice low, "I screwed up because I didn't trust my own judgment. Time to stand on my own."

"Oh." Lisbon thought back to the years after Minelli retired. They were brutally hard coming off the murder of Bosco and his team. But she got tougher and more politically savvy without Minelli running interference. She'd had to. "I faced something similar."

They parted to tackle the closed case paperwork.

Pike appeared later that morning. Tork had stepped away and Pike paused by Lisbon's desk. "Jane didn't bother coming in?"

"Personal day."

"Oh, okay. I guess." He frowned. "Unless we get a case."

Surfacing from the paperwork she recalled she still needed to talk to Pike. By then he was walking away. She slumped. Maybe tomorrow. Pike made a point of walking around every floor every day when he was in charge. She wondered if he'd read that in a management book somewhere. Cookbook management. Figures.

Hilton Hotel, Austin

It was 10:00 a.m. when Jane made it to the downtown Hilton. He found him by the pool.

"Pete!"

The grizzled bear of a man turned and pulled him into a crushing hug. "Paddy!" He vaguely waved at the sparkling pool. "Fancy digs, first class flight. What's cookin' that's worth all this? –You're back and only now look us up after three years?"

Jane finally got a word in. "A bargain if you and Sam get me what I want. Haven't been by because the FBI's got me on a short leash. One I'll slip with your help." He scanned the pool and deck chairs. "Where's Sam?"

"Out spending your money," he answered cheerfully. "You said she needs to look up-scale business. Spa, hair salon, shopping. She'll be back in a few hours."

"Good. Gives us time to shop for you and the others. –You said you know carnies in Austin who clean up well?"

"Couple of the boys'll help out for a few hundred apiece." The older man grimaced. "–So you want me in a monkey suit–"

"–Tie, too," Jane grinned happily.

By noon everything was bought and prepared. Jane briefed Pete and Sam on the plan. Sam was up first. Later that afternoon she would stop at Blatt's office to interview for a job. When informed there was no job, she would ask to use their phone and call Peterson to meet for dinner that night. Caller ID would identify the call as coming from Blatt's office. On Friday the whole ad hoc team would get in on the action.

Austin-to-San Antonio, Early Evening

Jane picked Lisbon up after work in a nondescript rental car. By 6:00 p.m. Van Pelt called. Peterson was driving north from San Antonio. She smugly informed him she'd gotten the security system codes. Jane promised her a Manolo Blahnik gift card.

They searched Peterson's house while Sam Barsocky, posing as Missy Bramer, dined with Peterson in Austin. Lisbon stepped in front and shoved latex gloves into Jane's hands as they approached the door. He picked the lock in seconds. He silenced the security alarm while Lisbon called Van Pelt to rig the system. If Peterson checked, his security cameras would show a recording of an empty house. They had to hurry. Encroaching night would expose the looped video as false.

The search was a bust.

"Now what?" Lisbon nervously eyed the lengthening shadows through the windows.

Jane sank down on the couch. "Let me think."

"Could it be outside, in a shed or something?"

Jane only shook his head. Lisbon shrugged and left to double check the house. A pair of crystal candlesticks on the mantle caught his eye. They clashed with the Texas-themed decor, didn't fit. He smiled and leaped up. He moved the left candlestick. Nothing happened. He moved the right one. The false back of the fireplace firebox slid aside. "Lisbon!"

She dashed back, exhaling in relief at the sight of the safe hidden behind the fireplace. Relief was short-lived.

Jane crouched low to examine the lock. "Damn."

"What?"

"Biometric." He squatted, just staring at the safe then snapped his fingers – or tried to with latex gloves on – as a smile slowly bloomed. "Did you see any tape? –Scotch tape?"

"Wh– In the office." After a second, "I'll get it."

She folded over the ends, careful not to smudge the adhesive in the middle. Jane took the tape and went into the kitchen. "Yep." He centered the tape over the power control on the smooth induction cook top and pressed.

"How do you know it's a fingerprint?"

"Safe is low and far back. Too awkward for an iris or hand print." He carefully peeled the tape off. "Most likely the right index finger. Dominant hand."

The safe door swung open. Several stacks of neatly banded $100 dollar bills stared them in the face.

He picked one up, eyeballed the thickness, and riffled the edges to verify all were $100's. "Hundred count bundles. Ten-thousand per bundle and there are–"

"–230 bundles. Two-million three-hundred thousand," Lisbon finished. Sarcastically, "Who knew state DEA director paid that well?"

Jane looked out the window. "Need to wrap this up." Jane fished the new burner smart phone from a pocket and took pictures of the open safe, bundles of hundreds fanned out in front of the fireplace. His photos captured the portrait of Peterson and his sons on the mantle along with the safe and money. Both jumped when his cell phone rang.

"Hey, Grace. ... Perfect. ... Thanks for the heads up. We just finished. Left Peterson's computer on for you. ... And you're sure there won't be any trace you hacked it? Thanks."

Lisbon hissed, "Jane, hurry up!" She reset the alarm and hustled him out the door. The tension eased once they were on the road. "Good thing most criminals aren't as smart as you. Law enforcement would have a helluva time."

"'Most'?" She hit his arm. He grinned, elated at their discovery.

Sam called shortly after. Peterson would give her the evidence at Blatt's office on Friday.

As they drove back to Austin, Jane sent his photo to Abbott's cell phone. Caption: "$2.3 million. Proof positive."

Jane leaned back, thinking, for the next several minutes. "Lisbon, did the case provide enough for an investigation referral of Peterson personally?"

She hesitated. "The expensive travel is suspicious as are all the failed raids. Without the stash of money it's a little light for a referral. Still, Schultz has a lot of discretion."

Jane smiled. "And you said Schultz dislikes him?"

"'Hates' him according to Fischer."

"Time for the FBI to do its job. Get Tork or Pike to make that referral."

"Not Abbott?"

"N-o-o, let's have it look like Abbott did it behind the scenes. Give Peterson a motive for attacking Abbott at the hearing."

She looked askance, then shrugged. "I'll see what I can do tomorrow."

Austin, Friday

Lisbon went to work. Jane took a second personal day.

At 8:00 a.m. one of Pete's men slipped notes under the doors in Blatt's office complex. The memo announced there would be extermination spraying. It recommended staying away for at least 30 minutes afterward as a "health precaution."

Van Pelt called at 11:30. GPS phone tracking showed Peterson en route to Austin.

At 12:45 p.m. Van Pelt called again. Peterson was in Austin, headed directly to Blatt's office.

At five to, Pete Barsocky and two helpers entered Blatt's office wearing extermination service uniforms and carrying spraying tanks. Blatt's staff cleared out. Pete's group stripped off coveralls to reveal business suits beneath. They hid the extermination equipment in a closet and manned the desks pretending to do paperwork or field calls. Sam Barsocky arrived on their heels and took Missy Bramer's desk. She warmly greeted Peterson a few minutes later and assured him she'd personally deliver his envelope to Blatt over the weekend.

Peterson left at 1:05. Sam donned latex gloves, opened his envelope, and looked over the enclosed materials. She snorted when she noticed the handwritten initials "WSP" on the backs of the photos. She practiced a few times, then forged the same initials on the photos Jane had given her. She put Peterson's bullet, the two rifling photos, and her practice forgeries in her purse. For good measure she photocopied the evidence bag label for Jane after substituting his bullet. She got a new padded envelope from office supplies, typed a new label, put Peterson's letter, the evidence bag, and Jane's rifling photos inside, and sealed it. For good measure she taped on a note saying the envelope had to be delivered to Blatt for the Monday hearings. The team gathered their things. Pete's group left first, followed by Sam at 1:15. Blatt's staff returned 15 minutes later, none the wiser.

Jane-Lisbon Apartment, Austin, Friday Evening

"Jane?" Lisbon tossed her keys and briefcase on the table.

"Here." Jane was lying out of sight on the couch.

"Hi." She greeted him with a kiss. "Go all right?"

"Perfect. -Did you ask about a referral?"

She kicked her shoes off. "Asked Tork first thing. He talked to Pike." She shrugged out of her jacket. "Think Pike asked around about Schultz and Peterson." She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Then he agreed to refer Peterson. Memo went out around noon." She joined him in the kitchen. "Tell me what happened with Pete and Sam."

Jane filled her in as they warmed up left-overs. "...Bullet and photos," he finished, holding up the zipper bag and two pictures. "Matches the computer file photo for Abbott's weapon. We got it."

"Glad it worked out." Her eyes narrowed at Jane's pensive expression. "What?"

He tilted his head. "Abbott killed the cartel lieutenant in Mexico, right?"

"Think so," Lisbon said after swallowing a bite. "Why?"

"Look at this." He handed her Sam's photocopy of the evidence bag label.

Lisbon read the label and said in disbelief, "It was put into evidence 16 years ago?!"

"If the guy was killed in Mexico, why does the US DEA have it at all?"

Lisbon chewed thoughtfully. After sipping her drink she said, "Peterson pulled strings to get that bullet to hold over Abbott. Talk about planning ahead."

Jane nodded. "What I think. Peterson recognized Abbott was going places, decided to keep a little insurance in case he needed a favor. -Seems our Abbott has good instincts. Got away from Peterson soon as he could."

Eyebrows raised, "'Our' Abbott?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "You know."

She let it pass. "Abbott's off the hook. But I hate giving Peterson a pass."

Jane smiled lazily. "What do you suppose happens when Peterson publicly accuses Dennis Abbott at the confirmation hearing? Without the evidence to back it up?"

Her eyes shone and she grinned in pure pleasure. "The FBI brass'll be apoplectic at Peterson attacking their golden boy who solved Blake. Jane, that's wicked! –Hey! I thought Abbott wanted the bullet to disappear so Peterson would just drop it."

Jane smirked, "We don't always get what we want."

"Good thing you get to tell him that."

"Maybe I won't. More natural reaction if he doesn't know."

Her forehead creased in worry. "Jane! You can't do that to him. Them."

He bit his lower lip torn between pleasing her and arranging the most dramatic reveal. "Compromise. I'll assure him the problem's solved, tell him to deny anything Peterson claims. –This will destroy Peterson's credibility. No one will even whisper that charge again."

"A-n-d Abbott is a hero wronged. He – they both – will get great press for what will look like pure slander. Geez, Jane!"

He got up to clear the table. "Just call me Mephistopheles," he said, inordinately pleased with himself.

She elbowed him as she went to the sink. "I call you Trouble." Her smile tamed the bite in her words.

National Park Near Austin, Saturday

A vacationing family called 9-1-1 on Saturday afternoon from the national park. The park ranger called the FBI less than a hour later. Tork, Lisbon and Jane pulled off the park road and walked along a dirt road to a leafy clearing.

"Agents Tork and Lisbon, consultant Patrick Jane," Tork said flashing his badge upon meeting the ranger at the scene.

"Park Ranger Ayers," nodded the twenty-something Hispanic woman. "Thanks for getting here so fast. Two dead. Bullet through the heart."

Lisbon peered at the ground. "Looks like they were dragged. They didn't move on their own."

Squatting next to one corpse, Jane said, "Oh!" When the agents looked over he added, "Something odd." He pointed to the left hand of the woman – girl, really. "Missing fingernail."

Tork frowned, "Torn off from dragging?"

Jane walked over to the man and pointed. "No. Missing fingernail, same hand."

"O-kay! Murder and it looks like someone's taking souvenirs." The ranger turned a little green. Tork turned back to her, "Any problems in the park? Drug dealing, marijuana farms, anything serious enough for murder?"

Ayers took a breath and sidled around so she was looking away from the bodies. "We cleaned out a couple marijuana plots last year. Haven't been back so far as we know. This pull off is a popular spot for teens to park and make out. Um – oh! There is some poaching. Murder is a little extreme for a poacher, but you never know."

Tork gave her his notepad and pen. "If you could list the most active poachers so we can check them out. Lisbon, you're with me. Jane, go get Wylie started researching this couple." He flipped open the man's wallet while Lisbon pulled a purse from the car and found the woman's ID.

Jane glanced at the ID's and the car's license plate. "Got it." Before Tork could add the obvious he said, "And Wylie can search for any other murders with fingernails taken as a souvenir."

Tork nodded curtly. He thanked the ranger and promised to keep her in the loop.

By Monday Tork and Lisbon had eliminated the poachers as suspects. Neither Jane nor Wylie had turned up enemies for the dating teenagers nor a motive for their murder. Wylie hadn't found other murders in which a fingernail was taken as a souvenir. The ME's report confirmed the obvious - GSW as COD. They were dead in the water.

Congressional Meeting Room, Washington D.C., Monday

The gavel came down with a sharp crack at precisely 10:00 a.m. ET. The nine committee members, three journalists, and sparse audience quieted.

"This meeting of the Commerce Department Qualifications Committee will come to order," intoned Chairman Gordon. "First order of business is a motion to approve the transcript for last week's meeting. Do I have a second?"

A committee member raised her hand, "I second the motion."

"If there are no objections–" he paused, "-then the transcript is approved." He shuffled some papers. "The sole item on this morning's agenda is the confirmation hearing for Lena Abbott, nominee for Assistant Deputy Director for International Trade Negotiations. This position is of considerable importance to US international trade. Both extraordinary competence and indisputable integrity are essential. Each committee member will have 5 minutes to question the nominee. The committee will vote on the nomination when the committee reconvenes this afternoon." He turned to the nominee. "Ms. Abbott, please be seated. As your testimony is essential to our deliberations, you will testify under oath. Do you solemnly swear or affirm that the testimony that you are about to give - including the written biographical and financial material you provided the committee – is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

"I do, sir."

"Then we may proceed. –Congressman Heston, you may start."

Dennis Abbott sat in the row behind his wife, his presence bolstering her poise and self-confidence for what promised to be an intense morning. The committee was split five-four, with the five members in the political party of the current administration favoring her confirmation. Lena Abbott had been working toward heading a multi-national treaty negotiation for years. It was within reach unless one act from his past surfaced.

Questioning by the first three members went well but that meant nothing till she got past Congressman Blatt. Blatt had indicated his wish to have Texas DEA Director William Peterson testify. Jane's voice echoed in Abbott's head: "Trust me." Abbott was pained by the irony of depending on a con man and probable murderer to safeguard his wife's reputation for integrity. Jane promised Peterson would be discredited. Abbott hoped Peterson simply wouldn't show. Abbott leaned forward as Blatt began.

"Ms. Abbott, you've had an illustrious career with Commerce. As my colleagues noted, your technical competence and experience are exemplary."

"Yes, sir."

"With your background, you surely understand the delicacy of the position for which you've been nominated? Billions of dollars of trade could be lost, US companies or even whole industries could be disadvantaged if trade negotiations are mishandled. The pressure and temptations to compromise in ways against the best interests of American citizens and companies are always present."

"Yes, I do, Congressman Blatt."

"So the importance of the position makes unquestioned integrity a necessity. By being a nominee you present yourself as possessing integrity above reproach."

"Respectfully, I do, sir."

"Would you agree a nominee's close personal associates are relevant? That voluntarily consorting with people of questionable character would be a red flag? That helping cover up a serious crime would be a disqualification?"

Voice colder, "Yes, sir." Her clear voice overrode the murmur that rose among the public and journalists.

Blatt turned to the chair, "Chairman Gordon, Texas State DEA Director William Peterson is here to testify today."

Gordon's brow creased slightly, "Mr. Blatt, you have under a minute left of your time."

"My colleagues Jeffries, Sanderson, and Radbern will cede their time to me."

"Congressmen?" Gordon looked at the named members. "Let the record show Congressmen Jeffries, Sanderson and Radbern have ceded their time to Congressman Blatt. Five minute break for the witness to be seated. Ms. Abbott, you may take a seat to the right."

Lena Abbott gathered her things and moved to a table to the side then huddled with her boss and husband.

"Lena, we knew Blatt listed Peterson as a witness. You're sure his testimony can be countered?"

She and her husband exchanged tense glances. "I do, Ted."

"Blatt will come back at you afterward. You're under oath so be careful. If any accusations can be proven you're liable for perjury charges."

Dennis Abbott interjected, "And so is Peterson." He swallowed at the enormity of what one impulsive act of rage long ago had caused. "He will be discredited," he said firmly, hoping to God he was right.

"All right." Her boss turned back to Lena, "Don't let this get under your skin. We knew going in the other party will fight our trade agenda tooth and nail. Take a breather while Peterson says whatever he's going to say."

The meeting reconvened.

Gordon addressed the witness. "You are William Peterson, Federal Drug Enforcement Agency Director for Texas?"

"Yes I am."

"Do you solemnly swear or affirm that the testimony that you are about to give is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

"I do."

To Blatt, "Proceed."

"Director Peterson, how long have you been in the DEA?"

"Twenty-seven years."

"And how did you come to know Lena Abbott?"

"She's the wife of Dennis Abbott, who was a DEA agent working for me at the Rio Bravo Station in year 2000."

"You have information relevant to the character of Ms. Abbott?"

"Yes, I do. Evidence recently surfaced showing that Dennis Abbott assassinated Raul Caudillo in Mexico 16 years ago."

A wave of noise swept the room. Gordon's gavel sounded sharply. "Everyone be quiet or be removed." The Abbott's sat stone-faced and stone-still ignoring the stares. Deathly silence was restored. No one wanted to miss a word. Gordon turned to Blatt, "Congressman Blatt, before proceeding with such a serious claim, do you have evidence other than hearsay?"

Calmly, "I do, Chairman."

Gordon took a breath, lips pressed thin. "Continue."

"You term it an 'assassination.' Please explain."

"Raul Caudillo was a lieutenant in the Zeta drug cartel. He was shot in the head by a hidden gunman. Dennis Abbott's service weapon fired that bullet."

Blatt asked, "Is there any possible legal justification for such an act? Was Caudillo killed in a drug raid or other law enforcement action?"

"There was no law-enforcement operation. It was murder, pure and simple."

"Do you have any reason to believe Lena Abbott knew about this alleged act by her husband?"

"Dennis Abbott requested a transfer to another state eight days after the assassination. I assume he'd have to tell his wife something."

"But you never spoke with either of them about it, correct?"

"Right."

"Do you have proof other than your statement?"

"This morning I gave you the bullet that killed Caudillo and two photographs of rifling marks. Chain of evidence protocols have been followed. The rifling matches Dennis Abbott's service weapon."

Gordon banged his gavel at another wave of noise. "Congressman Blatt, committee rules require evidence and reports be provided well before a hearing. Why was this not done?"

"I apologize for the irregularity, Chairman Gordon. Director Peterson only today provided me with these materials. Given their importance, I thought introducing them into our deliberations was necessary."

Gordon's eyes glittered icily. "You may proceed, Mr. Blatt. However, committee deliberations on this nomination will be suspended until these materials can be examined and, to the extent possible, their accuracy verified. Continue."

"Director Peterson, the assassination occurred 16 years ago. Why didn't this come to light sooner?"

"The Mexican authorities gave the DEA the bullet to help us determine who committed the act. It was in DEA evidence ever since."

"Why wasn't a match with Dennis Abbott's weapon discovered back then?"

"There was no reason to suspect a US DEA agent had anything to do with the murder. By the time we received the bullet, Dennis Abbott had transferred out. Only recently has the backlog of DEA evidence been computerized for easy searching and matching."

"Why did you come forward today?"

"A man who used to be one of my agents committed murder and should be prosecuted. His character reflects on his wife. Either she conspired to hide a serious crime. Or she is seriously lacking in judgment and insight as the wife of a murderer."

Blatt allowed himself a slight smile. "Thank you, Director. That's all."

Gordon spoke. "There will be a two hour recess. I will have copies of these materials provided to all committee members. I will also request the FBI's help in checking out the veracity of these materials. Adjourned till 1:00 p.m." His gavel sounded like a rifle shot.

The wave of noise was nearly palpable. The Abbott's, Lena's boss, and Gordon's administrative assistant huddled in a corner discussing steps to check out the evidence. Lena Abbott wore a frozen expression as she hung on to her composure by a thread. Gordon had the Capitol police take possession of Dennis Abbott's gun until a representative of the local FBI office could arrive to conduct rifling tests on the weapon. Fifteen minutes later, the FBI had come and gone. The Abbott's and Lena's boss would hole up in a nearly conference room to work out a strategy to counter Peterson's testimony, a strategy that would be pointless unless the rifling evidence could be discredited.

Dennis Abbott excused himself to visit the men's room. He took the opportunity to make a call.