A/N: Before you read this chapter I need to issue an apology. It is NOT the final chapter as advertised. There will be one (or perhaps even two) more. I mistakenly believed I could pack everything I wanted to say into one but it seems I miscalculated my ability to be concise (lesson learned in false advertising!) I'm sorry and I hope you don't mind this story trucking on for another couple of chapters, I know it's already far outstayed its welcome and I really do appreciate your support in hanging in there for so long. But thought it better to take my time and tell the full story I'd planned than rush the ending with questions left unanswered. Thank you.

Chapter 49 – Planting Seeds

"Lisbon, Jane, there you both are. You really think this is the time to ignore my phone calls, Lisbon?" their boss snapped. Wainwright was out of his desk chair as soon as Jane and Lisbon had filed into his office and stood with his hands on his hips, glaring at them.

"Sorry, boss, had to make sure I took Jane to the Hospital after he was injured," Lisbon replied, contrition in her voice.

"She knows me well enough to know I'd never go there on my own," Jane shrugged with a smirk. "Had to be dragged there kicking and screaming."

Wainwright nodded for them to sit down and sighed. "You okay?" he asked Jane, "Cho said it was barely a scratch."

The consultant rolled his eyes theatrically and was about to respond in a way that was the opposite of his colleague's version of the event but Lisbon, sensing this was the case, cut in swiftly, "He's fine."

"I'm fine - apparently," Jane said at her side with a sideways glance at her.

"So, what the hell happened?" Wainwright asked, focusing on Lisbon again. "Visualize are going berserk over this-"

"You going to let them push you around?" Jane interjected. "Come on, Luther. Tell them it's our investigation, not theirs. Time to step up and put on the big boy pants."

Wainwright barked, "If it's all the same to you, Jane, I'll be the one to handle the politics involved here, not you."

Jane held his hands up. He grinned. "Fair enough. Go get 'em, tiger."

"So, what happened?" Wainwright asked Lisbon once more, shooting Jane a dirty look and choosing to ignore his last remark.

She glanced at Jane quickly who walked over to the office blinds in Wainwright's office and closed them. Lisbon removed an electronic sweeping device from her purse and her boss's eyebrows hit his forehead. As he was about to speak, Jane put a finger up to his lips in a shushing gesture, his expression commanding. Wainwright's jaw snapped shut again and he proceeded to frown until Lisbon had finished her sweep of his office.

"It's clear," she told Jane as she put the device away again.

"What on earth is going on!?" Wainwright exclaimed at both of them.

"Before we continue, we need to see your left shoulder," Jane said, all amusement gone from his voice.

Wainwright let out a short chuckle. "This is not the time for one of your games, Jane." He looked at Lisbon who shrugged. She said, "We're not joking. Although...I can certainly see why you may think that might be the case."

He looked from one to the other with his mouth open, evidently wondering if both of them had lost their minds entirely.

"This isn't a joke, Luther," Jane added seriously. "Believe me, it's the last thing it is. It's in relation to Red John and I never joke where he's concerned. Unless...unless there's a reason why you don't want to show us..."

"Red John? I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about."

"Please, sir. It's important. We'll explain after," Lisbon pressed.

"And I promise it'll be worth the explanation," Jane commented. "And in your best interests."

Studying the pair of them for another long moment to decide if they were on the level, Wainwright finally rolled his eyes and began to loosen his tie. "I swear, if this is one of your pranks, Jane-"

"Any prank that would involve me seeing your pasty white skin isn't one I'd get any amusement from, Luther," Jane remarked. Lisbon glared at him and shook her head at his inability to keep his mouth shut even when people complied with what he wanted them to do.

After unbuttoning a few top buttons, Wainwright pulled his shirt off his left shoulder. Gleaming white skin shone back at Lisbon and Jane who, in turn, took deep breaths of relief.

"Thank you," Lisbon said to her boss as she looked to her lap. "I'm sorry you had to do that."

He flushed a little in response, embarrassed for his employee to see him in such a state of undress. Gruffly, "Now you owe me that explanation," he said, as he fixed his shirt and tie before sitting back in his chair.

After another glance at Jane who nodded in return, Lisbon began. "We haven't just been hunting Red John the last few days. We've been informed there's a corrupt organisation within Californian Law Enforcement. It might even spread further than that. We've learned that Red John is part of it. We're not certain at this stage what level his involvement is but we're pretty sure it's quite high ranking. The reason we had to check your shoulder is that members have a tattoo placed there...three dots. We had to know you were clean before we spoke to you further about this."

He frowned. "Red John works in Law Enforcement?"

"Yes, it would appear so," Jane commented with a small shrug, his expression unreadable.

Wainwright's brow furrowed further and he leaned forward. Any humiliation he'd felt a few moments prior had been forgotten. He spoke to Lisbon again. "How did you come by this information?"

"A...variety of sources. I can explain everything at a later stage but not right now."

"You believe this corruption has spread to the CBI?"

"Yes, we're certain of it. FBI too, most probably. Jeff Forster informed us about it though he's only a bit player from what we can ascertain. But he told us that they call themselves - The Blake Association."

Wainwright's frown deepened. "Blake Association? You're sure? It wasn't a trick or a lie on his part to pass some off blame for the attack on Van Pelt?"

"He was telling us the truth. Members complete favours for each other. When one is in trouble, other members get them out of it. To be frank, we have no idea how many members there are...or what crimes they've committed and had covered up. Or how long this has been going on or how high up it goes. We've barely scratched the surface."

Wainwright anxiously played with a pen on his desk. He swallowed hard before he frowned. "Hang on, there was no mention of this...Blake thing...in Forster's statement against Stiles."

"We had him omit that part from his statement," Jane said as he came to stand beside Lisbon who'd taken the seat opposite Wainwright. He shrugged. Smoothly, "For his own personal safety, naturally. Until we were sure we could find someone at a higher level to trust with this information, we didn't want it to become public knowledge."

His boss raised a sceptical eyebrow. "Still doesn't explain why you didn't make me go through that ...test you just set me...days ago...and somehow, I doubt whether you care much about the wellbeing of someone who had a hand in the attack on your colleague." He puffed out a breath. "So, Stiles, where does - or should I say did - he fit in?"

Lisbon licked her lips nervously and swallowed. "We had Forster incriminate him in his statement. He...he wasn't the one who was asked to be informed of Rigsby's comings and goings that night. Red John or one of his confederates did. It wasn't Stiles. We just had Forster say it was."

Their boss leaned back in his chair and shook his head at both of them, aghast. "So...let me get this straight. You...had a man lie about something you knew wasn't true and...you had him omit something that was?" His eyes travelled to Lisbon's as his head continued to shake. "I don't even know where to begin with you, Lisbon. You call that detective work?"

"We did what had to be done at the time," Jane interjected. "It was the best course of action available to us. And it was necessary to get to the truth. We needed something on Stiles and Forster was a means of opening that dialogue."

"Why?!"

"Because he knows - well knew - who Red John was. We needed leverage for him to talk. He didn't bite at first but then we added to the pressure-"

"Legally, by some other means than Forster's statement," Lisbon butted in. "But that's not important. The only person we manipulated was Forster in this whole thing and we've kept him safe despite his involvement with Van Pelt's attack. I'm not apologising for the subterfuge. Like Jane said, at the time it was necessary."

"Stiles really knew him? You're sure?"

"Yes, 100 per cent," Jane answered.

Wainwright rubbed his forehead with a heavy sigh. "And where did all this get you, huh?" he muttered quietly, without looking at either one of them. "Because Stiles is dead now and if he gave up Red John before that happened, no doubt you'd be after him and not sitting here and talking about it with me."

Lisbon and Jane locked eyes before Jane pronounced, "Actually, we do know who he is."

Wainwright's eyes shot up to meet Jane's. "Stiles talked before he died?"

"Something like that." There was no point in bringing Van Pelt's name into this and add to the threat to her life by one of Red John's people if news spread to that effect.

Wainwright, suddenly animated and a tad surprised by Jane's apparent openness, said, "So...okay...okay...good...then we get a team together-"

"No," Jane said with finality.

"Excuse me?"

"We've just informed you about a corrupt organisation Red John is a member of. We keep the circle small on who knows about this, for now. Until we catch Red John. And I'm not telling you his name. Not yet. Once he's dealt with, then we increase the circle and you decide who you can trust about Blake."

"Jane, you can't decide-"

"Yes, I can," the blond told him. "Otherwise Blake will go back into the shadows and you'll never catch Red John. Only we know where Forster is and we can have him in Mexico by morning and you'll have lost your chance at uncovering more. And Red John's a career maker. As is Blake. We do this our way." He glanced sideways at Lisbon, "If it were up to me I wouldn't have told you any of this but...Lisbon persuaded me to come clean with you before we pursue him with the help of people we know we can count on. She said I could trust you and I very much hope that's true, Luther. Because we're trusting you to keep quiet about this. For now."

Lisbon glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Their coming here was a small part of Jane's larger plan and not her idea at all. It sometimes worried her how easy he could lie so effortlessly.

Wainwright still looked more than irritated that Jane was backing him into a corner so Jane added, "Who did you tell about our meeting with Stiles? Bertram, I'm guessing?"

"Well...yes...he's been looking progress reports every half hour since Forster's statement so I told him you were hoping to meet with him today-"

He stopped talking, realising the implication that the Director of the CBI could somehow be involved in Stiles' murder and form part of the conspiracy they'd just mentioned. Jane smiled faintly at him. "You see how small we need to keep this circle now?"

"You know I'm not Blake. Yet you still won't tell me who Red John is?"

"No, not yet. Not until I've talked to him first."

Wainwright narrowed his eyes at him. "Talk? You really expect me to believe that's all you intend to do to the man after all these years hunting him?" He glanced at Lisbon. "You're an accessory to murder, if you follow this course of action," he told her. "It's not just your career you're throwing away if you let Jane kill him, it's your life too and I can't stand for it. I won't lie for either one of you over it."

"Jane isn't going to kill him. He just wants to have a conversation face to face before we arrest him. He's owed that after all this time, wouldn't you say?" Lisbon said with a straight face.

"You're crazy if he has you believing that, Agent. He's made no secret of the fact-"

"I've changed my mind," Jane interrupted. He glanced down at Lisbon and turned his tone softer. "I'm not ready to throw my life or hers away on fruitless revenge. Not anymore. He doesn't deserve that satisfaction." He stared at Wainwright again. Sincerely, "We'll hand him over to you on a silver platter when I've said what I need to say to him privately. I promise you that. Just allow us a day to do that and say nothing about Blake in the meantime. And...you may even get Blake tied up in a nice little bow too if we catch a break."

"I'll stop Jane from killing him if I have to," Lisbon assured Wainwright when she saw he was wavering.

"You won't have to," Jane said firmly, squeezing her shoulder affectionately.

"Well, it appears I don't have much choice," Wainwright said after a long sigh, still perturbed and highly suspicious of Jane's promise. "Why'd you even tell me this if there's nothing you'll allow me to do to help?"

Jane smiled. "You're our superior, isn't keeping you informed one of the duties you expect from us?"

Wainwright rolled his eyes at him. "Why don't you cut the bull and just tell me where you're going with this, Jane? What is it you want from me?"

Lisbon replied instead. "We need you to tell Bertram that we have nothing. That our play with Stiles didn't pan out and we're out of ideas. That it was a way for us to catch Red John but he won, had Stiles murdered in most probability, and that we're left with nothing. It...could have been the truth. It almost was. And he did have Stiles murdered, of that we're certain so that part is true. We need you to tell the same thing to...well, whoever in authority asks you where we are with Red John."

Jane added, "We need Red John to feel comfortable and, if any of the people you tell are Blake, and I'm guessing that at least one of them will be as they'll want confirmation that Stiles died without telling us a thing, then it'll get back to him and he'll feel triumphant and at ease. We need the element of surprise if we're to catch him. You can help us with that."

"So I'm to lie to the director, am I?"

Jane shrugged, "We could have lied to you and told you what we want you to tell Bertram or anyone else who asks. But we didn't."

"Only because you need my help to sell it. Put my weight behind it."

Jane smiled and nodded acknowledgement of that statement. "But think of what you'll get in return, Luther. You'll have Red John, the feather in your cap, caught on your watch. You just need to wait a day, maybe less."

Wainwright stared at Lisbon. "I want you to promise that you won't allow Jane to murder a man in cold blood, Agent Lisbon."

"Red John will be arrested – you have my word," she stated.

Once outside Wainwright's office, Lisbon took a deep breath. "You think he bought it?" she asked Jane.

"He did. You did well in there. Very believable and sincere."

She sighed loudly. "Yeah, you too. You almost had me believing there for a minute you don't actually intend to kill Red John."

He shrugged and looked into her eyes. "You still with me on this? Because if it's too hard, I can carry on with this plan with help from the others-"

Quickly, "I'm with you. I want to look this bastard in the eyes too. I know it's not the same but I've had to look at his victims for years too. Not to mention the attack on Grace and the threat to Annie's life. Or Bosco and his team. Let's end this once and for all so we can get on with the rest of our lives."

He smiled softly at her. "I like the sound of that. Okay, let's hit the open road."

As they walked down the corridor she said, "Don't forget-"

"To lose our detail. Yes, I know."

"And we need to-"

"Leave our phones back at the Hospital and then switch to burners so it appears we spent the afternoon there before Ron takes them to get some tacos and then to the Movies later." He chuckled, "Probably the hottest date he's had in a while. Yes, my dear, I do know. This is my plan, after all."

"Hey, it was my idea about the phones," she said at his back. "And don't be so cruel about Ron!"

They reached the old wooden cabin around an hour later, the drive there increasingly quiet as they neared their destination. The property stood alone on a deserted piece of land, a few miles from the main road.

"Good, no neighbours to worry about," Lisbon said as Jane parked up his Citroen at the back of the property.

Walking back around to the front, they waved at Rigsby who'd borrowed a nondescript sedan from a friend. They gestured for him to park beside them, out of sight of the main entrance to the property.

Jane stood with his hands in his jacket pockets surveying the outside of the property as he and Lisbon waited for their colleague to join them. A veranda draped the front of the modest one storey house, a handmade rocking chair at the side of the front door. His eyes turned to deep red rose bushes, planted neatly in containers around its sides. Its wooden structure was newly stained dark chestnut and Jane had a vision of Red John painting and whistling as he attended to it, before caring for his flowers then rocking gently back and forth as he enjoyed the fruits of his labour at the end of the day, the soft breeze of a Summer's evening warmed up by a cup of tea in his hand. It was spectacularly normal and the last place many would expect a serial killer to reside. It was somewhere he could picture living himself, in fact, a sanctuary from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Even serial killers needed their downtime, he supposed ruefully.

Lisbon took his hand and nudged him, recognising his breathing had sped up. He took a calming breath and squeezed her hand in acknowledgement. "I'm okay, don't worry."

Rigsby half looked over the place and shrugged as he walked towards them, putting his burner cell away. "Just called Cho. Lucky for us, Red John caught a case. Cho's tailing him. Gonna let us know when he's coming home but should give us a couple of hours at least, crime scene's an hour out from here."

"Good. Then let's get started." Jane smiled affably at the others before he advanced towards the front door.

Carefully he picked the lock and opened the door a fraction. Lisbon and Rigsby shone their torches inside, checking for tripwires or traps set.

"Looks clear," Lisbon whispered.

Jane smiled at her whispering. "No-one's home, Lisbon, you don't need to be so quiet," he said.

"It's not like I break into a house every day, Jane. Excuse me if I don't know the etiquette involved."

Jane smiled and peered into the hallway, checking it was clear for himself. "All right, all clear. Let's go."

Lisbon pushed the door open another inch, gradually widening it until it hit the back of the wall. The three of them trudged inside, Rigsby closing the front door behind him with his foot. A bedroom sat off the left side of the hallway, a bathroom opposite it. Past there was a kitchen, white cupboards and painted walls in soothing peach topped off with a slate grey floor. A fruit bowl sat in the centre of an old table, a cereal bowl and coffee mug on the drainer beside the sink. Jane's eyes flickered to the cereal box that sat alongside. Seemed Red John was an early morning Bran fan. He knew he'd never see a box of that stuff again and not be reminded of Red John or of this surreal moment in his life.

His hand went to touch the marble worktop and Lisbon put a hand on his to stop him. She handed him a pair of latex gloves and he nodded. She fetched another set for Rigsby and herself, and the three of them left the kitchen as they put them on. At the end of the corridor, an open plan living area come office came into view, the obvious focal point of the small house. Embers lay in the stone hearth that dominated the centre of the single room. To the right of the fire, a chest of logs sat and opposite the fire was a faded brown leather couch, much like Jane's own at the CBI. He shook his head and smiled thinly at the absurdity of that discovery, absently wondering if lying on it was where Red John did his plotting and planning too.

Lisbon pointed to a computer on a desk that sat behind wood panelled walls. "Rigs, call Grace and get her to hack into it. Let's hope she can break any encryption software he's installed. She's all set at the hospital, right?"

"Yeah, she's ready and waiting for the call. She only wished she'd been well enough to come and finish this with us."

"She's as much a part of this as all of us. You know what you're looking for, right?"

"Yeah, any files related to Red John or Blake."

As Rigsby called his fiancée and got to work, Lisbon noticed Jane standing in the centre of the living room, his eyes set on a photograph that sat on the mantelpiece. A young boy and an older man stared back at him, both grinning as they held a large pike in their hands, father and son buoyant after a successful fishing trip.

"When do you think it happened?" he asked her quietly without looking at her but sensing her presence at his side. "He's what...eight...nine in this picture? Do you think he knew at that age he wanted to murder people?"

"I don't know, Jane," she sighed. Seeing he was profoundly affected by standing in Red John's house, standing amongst his things, she said softly, "But we don't have time for a philosophical discussion right now about it. We need to find evidence, right? To make sure he is who we think he is. The computer might be clean but the house may not be. Let's focus on that, okay?"

He nodded slowly then quickly as he gathered himself. He took a breath. "Yeah, you're right, of course. Plenty of time to get maudlin on you later." He smiled, "I'll make a start in the bedroom, if you want to check here."

"Okay, so I'm looking for...?"

"False drawer, loose floorboard, something smaller. Might be nothing but a flash drive...Be creative, Lisbon. And don't forget to knock over a few things as you search. We need this to look like a simple robbery that goes wrong."

"All right, call out if you find anything."

"Will do."

As Lisbon began to search the living area, Jane entered the bedroom. Gaining a better handle on himself he cleared his throat and methodically began to open and search through drawers. He pushed to the back of his mind he was searching through Red John's belongings and focused on finding evidence of his, or others, crimes. Finding nothing in the drawers, he opened his closet. He pushed aside the work clothes staring back at him and knocked on the back of the wardrobe in case of a false back. He sucked in his breath and pulled the hangers back into the middle again before he closed the door when he found nothing. He began to wonder if he'd got it wrong, if his guesswork over who he was had been incorrect after all. If he was still as far away as ever from finding him.

He turned around and a floorboard creaked under his foot. He knelt down, dragging a patchwork rug out of the way at the foot of the bed as he knelt down. His breathing sped up as he hunkered down further and he was eye level with the floorboards. He noticed one that was more worn away at one end than those next to it. He smiled victoriously. "The floorboards underneath the rug should all be less worn, not more than the others. But you're different. I wonder why. Maybe because someone has been lifting you up," he said to himself. Licking his lips, he stuck a finger in the crack and raised the board effortlessly, surprised when four more joined it and a one foot square space opened up in front of him like a trap door. "Open Sesame," he grinned. He took his torch out and shone it down the dark hole. Then his breath caught in his throat and the smile fell from his lips when he discovered what was inside. A hand carved oak chest, gleaming clean amidst the dirt and cobwebs around it, greeted him. He knew at once. He'd found the right man.

But this was no flash drive.

These were his trophies.