28End of Red John / Start of a New Life - Part I
Who: CBI team
What: AU version of the end of Red John
When: Just after The Great Red Dragon episode, S6, E7 - right before the series Red John episode
Where: Sacramento and environs
Why: Alternate version of the end of Red John that accounts for more clues and takes them forward with the CBI intact and no 2-year exile for Jane
Disclaimer: I obviously own nothing of the Mentalist series, scripts, characters, etc.
Chapter 1: Blake Association and FBI
"May I have your attention, please? Put down your phones and step away from your desks. Now," said an unknown, burly, black man in a black suit. His voice wasn't loud, but it rang with practiced authority. It carried across the whole fifth floor of the CBI building.
"I'm Special Agent in Charge Teresa Lisbon. Who the hell are you?" challenged Lisbon, stepping forward to confront the man, the tiny woman somehow an equal presence to the tall, bulky man.
"FBI Supervisory Agent Dennis Abbott. Now I repeat, stand up and step away from your desks." His gratuitous, "Please," was more insult than request.
"We're in the middle of a manhunt for a dangerous fugitive. Now if you would like to assist–"
"CBI Director Gale Bertram, head of this alleged law enforcement organization, is a murderer and a member of a massive criminal conspiracy, the Blake Association," responded Abbott offensively.
"A conspiracy my team uncovered. A conspiracy which includes FBI agents."
"Yes, and that's why the bureau sent me here from the Austin, Texas, office. To clean up the mess. I am holding in my hand a writ from a federal judge and a letter from the governor of California requesting the FBI's help. The FBI is taking charge of the Blake Association investigation immediately. All of you are on immediate paid leave for the rest of this week until my agents secure all - and I do mean ALL - records and material relevant to the Blake Association investigation. You may remove nothing other than personal possessions from the premises. All effects will be searched on your way out."
Lisbon stepped out of the bullpen and called the governor's office to verify Abbott's claims.
"You can't do that," objected Van Pelt hotly to Abbott.
"I'm here to collect evidence. Don't get in my way," Abbott dismissed her as an apparently unimportant annoyance. He turned away and raised his voice as he gave orders to his FBI agents. "Let's go to work, fellas."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. What's going on here?" challenged Jane, coming from the break room with tea. After finding two relevant files on Jane's couch, FBI staff had moved the couch and removed the cushions, searching for more files.
"Dennis Abbott, FBI. You must be Patrick Jane."
Lisbon was back in the bullpen after having confirmed Abbott's authority. "They've taken over the Blake Association investigation. Everyone has paid leave for the week while the FBI seizes all our files and evidence," explained Lisbon grimly.
"We're gonna need to interview you at some point, but it can wait. We're gonna be here for some time. Just don't leave town."
"We have a killer to catch," protested Jane.
"Oh, well, that's our problem now. You had your chance to catch him and you blew it‑‑ if you were really trying."
Jane stood stock still for a moment, expressionless. He handed his cup and saucer to Abbott – who, surprised, accepted it without thinking, - turned and walked to the stairs to his attic work space. He was barred by an FBI agent. Jane pivoted and stepped toward the elevators, joining the tail end of the crowd of CBI employees being herded out of the building. Elevator full, he and Lisbon moved to the side while they waited for the next elevator car.
Sotto voce, "What now?" asked Lisbon.
"I don't know," Jane responded, voice equally soft.
"Van Pelt found some coded files in Bertram's flash drive. Should we get started on those?"
"Van Pelt can work on them. Might be useful on Red John. But we're done with the Blake Association. There's nothing more to do here. Just go home, get some rest."
"You're not quitting. I don't believe it."
"No, I'm not quitting. Uh, I'm letting go. Blake Association is out of our hands. I need to think."
"Where will you be?"
"My apartment. Look, can I come over to your place tomorrow morning? I have some ideas."
"All right." Lisbon searched his face anxiously, "You okay? I mean, this was our big break on Red John–"
"-I'm okay. Listen, I'm sorry this is messing with your position, your team, Lisbon."
She let out her breath, not even realizing she had been holding it. "Bertram. Bertram is the SOB here. Can't blame the governor for calling in the cavalry when the CBI director is big time dirty."
"I–I need to finish working some things out, but I think it will be okay, Lisbon. Tomorrow."
They both boarded the elevator going down. The elevator was too crowded for more conversation.
~.~.~.~
Ten minutes after he called, Jane appeared at Lisbon's townhouse mid-morning, bringing a latte, tea, and sweet rolls with him. She welcomed him in, being at loose ends with the sudden abundance of time on what would ordinarily be a work day. Jane put the food on the kitchen table and both got out plates and spoons to stir their drinks. Lisbon surreptitiously looked him over: Two-day stubble, dark circles under his eyes, and still coughing from smoke and dust inhaled during the explosion. We need to finish this before it finishes him. The FBI will only gum things up worse than they already are. What the hell is our next move?
Surprisingly, Jane refused to discuss anything related to the Blake Association or Red John as they ate. He did listen eagerly as Lisbon filled him in on what she had heard about the FBI's doings at the CBI. His only comment was that involving the FBI from another state office might not be a bad thing. He suggested walking to the subdivision's little park after they finished eating. He insisted they leave their phones behind. She fidgeted impatiently as Jane leisurely strolled to the gazebo, hand lightly on the small of her back to shepherd her along. They sank onto the bench lining the gazebo perimeter.
"Okay, Jane. We were hot on the trail of Red John and you're acting like we should just take a vacation. What's going on?"
"The FBI intervention may be the best thing that could happen, Teresa. I did some thinking since we left the CBI yesterday."
She gave him a searching look. "You must have. You sure didn't get any sleep. To repeat, what's going on?"
He licked his lips, gazing absently across the small park. Turning back to face her, "Blake Association isn't Red John."
"What?!"
"The Blake Association is a Red John enemy, opponent – whatever you want to call it."
"What about Bertram? –My God, we accused an innocent man of being Red John in that press conference!"
"Bertram's far from innocent. He's Blake Association – the head, or high up, anyway. But he's not Red John."
"Then why did you accuse him?"
"Bertram needs to be stopped. While the FBI's chasing him, we continue hunting Red John without interference. And, believing everyone thinks Bertram is Red John, maybe Red John gets careless."
"Did you engineer the FBI coming in?"
"No. But I rather expected it. You heard what Smith said. The Blake Association is huge, many jurisdictions, many levels of law enforcement. I wouldn't be surprised if the corruption extends to other states. The FBI is better positioned to do all the leg work."
A bit bitterly, "Still, it pisses me off how it was handled. We could have worked with them instead of being shoved aside."
"Lisbon, having the FBI take lead on Blake frees us up to focus on Red John. I repeat, they are not the same."
"So, what are you thinking, what next?"
"We need to get the team together. I think our phones are bugged, so I bought several burner phones on my way here–"
"–That's why you insisted we leave our phones at the townhouse?"
"Yes. It's okay to call and check on where they are, but we need to physically tell them the meeting time and location. And give them each a burner phone. I'll go talk to Cho–"
"I'll get Rigsby and Van Pelt, since they're probably together anyhow."
"River Park by the fountain at 1 p.m. Use a burner phone to call if that time or place won't work. Leave your regular cell phone in the car when you talk to the team. Treat it like an open mic." Lisbon frowned at his apparent paranoia, then assumed he had good reason.
~.~.~.~
The five met as planned at 1 p.m. The splash of water from the fountain provided pleasant background noise as they sat around a picnic table on the fine summer afternoon. Not coincidentally, the noise also would interfere with any attempts to eavesdrop.
"To begin, do you have your phone with you?" opened Jane.
All responded that they did not. Rigsby asked, "Why, Jane? Our CBI phones are checked weekly for bugs."
"Van Pelt, maybe you're better able to answer that."
"Cell phones can be rigged to act like microphones, even when you're not using them. It's not exactly a bug, it's programming. I've never done it, but I know it can be done. Why do you think that's the case, Jane?"
"As you all now know, Red John knew my list of seven suspects the same day I finished figuring it out. The Carson Springs Child Protective Services director, Miriam Gottleib, gave me a DVD from Red John. On it, Lorelei Martins listed the seven suspects I came up with." Looking at Lisbon, "I knew it was a trick. I finally figured out how it was done." Lisbon brightened, relieved that Jane could at last put that puzzle to rest. Jane added with a ghost of a smile, "No 'psychic' powers required." She smiled in return.
"Lisbon, I told you Bertram was a suspect when we investigated Eileen Turner's murder. Then, we tricked Roddy Turner and Sean Barlow to get Gottleib to lead us to the baby. I told you the rest of my list on theway. Red John used either your phone or mine to listen in."
Lisbon objected immediately, "But the DVD was made while Lorelei Martins was alive – months earlier."
"Not necessarily. I think Red John videotaped Lorelei reading the names of dozens of possible suspects before he killed her."
"How would he know which ones?"
"I work in a fishbowl, Lisbon. The CBI attic windows give anyone with a telescope a clear view of my Red John crime board."
"Then why-"
Cho answered, "You were using that to reel Red John in, weren't you?"
Jane nodded. "Red John knows who he is, so I'm not keeping that secret from him. By revealing my last few dozen suspects I get to see if anyone starts acting differently."
"So how did Red John do that disk?"
"It was mid-afternoon when I told you my final seven suspects, just before we discovered Gottleib's role in stealing the baby. It took Red John a couple of hours to create the DVD using those recorded clips. Lisbon, if you recall, the recording broke away to a picture each time she mentioned a name. No continuity. It would be easy to assemble that DVD from clips. Then he gave it to Gottleib to give to us. She didn't get to the house where the baby was till late at night. There was plenty of time for Red John to create his DVD and give it to Gottleib before she appeared late that night."
Van Pelt interjected, "If that's true, Red John has some very sophisticated electronic and computer abilities."
Rigsby jumped in, "You're right. And that's not news. Red John had access to the internal CBI computer system to send us messages in the Renfrew and Panzer cases."
"And," Lisbon added with a shudder, "he had no trouble identifying the traces we put on the suspects' phones. These examples suggest some pretty impressive abilities."
Jane broke in. "Listen, gang, my biggest realization is that Red John is not part of the Blake Association–"
"–But the three red dot tattoo that Kira Tinsley saw?" Cho started.
"A false lead set up by Red John. Since when does Red John leave victims alive? How could she accidentally have seen that tattoo? And most telling, why would a malignant, megalomaniac narcissist ever brand himself the same as his underlings? –Look. Red John told me 'Tyger, Tyger' when he killed Dylan and Ruth, the Red John copycat killers, just after he took Kristina Frye. If the Blake Association was Red John's organization or even an ally, why would he give me a clue that it exists?"
Lisbon asked, "Jane, what about Smith? He said the Blake Association told him to provide FBI credentials for a Red John supporter. That person then got into the CBI and poisoned Rebecca Anderson so we couldn't question her about killing Bosco and his team. Red John and Blake were working together?"
"Red John just needed the code words. All assignments were done by phone. Red John could have called a Blake member and gotten them to do it just by knowing the code. Also, I'm not sure those credentials were connected to poisoning Rebecca Anderson. I doubt Red John would have talked about why he needed them to Smith."
Cho interrupted, "Jane, where does all that leave us about Red John?"
"Ah, glad you asked. More evidence suggesting Red John enmity for Blake. Doesn't it strike you odd that four of my list of seven were Blake Association, as shown by the red dots? If Red John arranged for us to discover the red dot tattoo, we end up dismantling the corrupt Blake Association, perhaps doing Red John the favor of eliminating a threat. Patridge, McAllister, Bertram and Smith. Patridge was Blake–"
"He said 'tyger, tyger' before he died when I was in that abandoned house," Lisbon recalled.
Cho added, "And that skinned area on his shoulder at the morgue suggests there was a Blake tattoo that someone wanted hidden."
"Bertram has the tattoo and, thanks to my accusation, is on the run as Red John. But he's probably just a high up member of Blake. Then there's Smith, an admitted Blake member. And McAllister had the tattoo as well. He died in the explosion at my Malibu house."
Rigsby frowned. "But then there's no one left. Smith admitted he killed Kirkland. And Stiles and Haffner also died in the explosion. Jane, what if Red John isn't among your list of seven?"
Grimly, "Red John's on it. Someone who we think is dead...isn't. Here. We know the disposition of four of the seven. Cho can confirm Partridge is dead. Smith admitted he killed Kirkland, so he is definitely dead. Smith is in the Sacramento jail. And Bertram's on the run, with confirmed sightings and killings. That leaves the three supposedly killed in the explosion in Malibu – McAllister, Stiles, and Haffner-"
Cho interrupted, "All three were positively ID'd as dead from DNA evidence."
"Faked. Some or all. Had to be. Each is either Blake or Visualize. Both organizations have the reach and money to arrange false data. So, the question is, which of those three is Red John."
Lisbon broke the silence, "So, which one is it?"
Jane shook his head, "I have my guess, but we need to check it out. I was wrong with Timothy Carter. I can't be wrong again." Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt exchanged glances, glad Jane's priority was to make sure. The stakes were immeasurably greater now that all five had reluctantly come to agree that a dead Red John was the best solution, even if that meant pushing the boundaries a little...or more.
"We are handicapped till next week when we can get back into the CBI," reminded Lisbon.
Jane shrugged. "We should do as much as we can till then. We need to do everything we can to determine if one or more of those three is still alive."
Lisbon organized the immediate work. "Cho, Rigsby, see if you can find any signs that Haffner, McAllister or Stiles might be alive. Check their homes, work, and any other likely places. Van Pelt, do you have any kind of computer access that might tell us whether our phones were compromised and who might have done it?" When Van Pelt nodded, Lisbon went on, "Then do as much as you can with that. When you hit a roadblock, help Cho and Rigsby see who might still be alive."
"I left back door access to my work computer. It's against regs, but I can use it from home to do background research on Stiles, McAllister and Haffner."
Jane added, "Cho, did we ever get the results of those DNA analyses I asked for a few weeks ago?"
"No, but they should be available about now."
Lisbon asked, "Call forensics. I hear the FBI is done with Forensics and they're back to work. Call and find out." She glanced quizzically at Jane, this being the first she had heard of his DNA request.
"Okay, use the burner phones to call when you find out anything. And, if our regular cells can act like microphones, make sure you are not in earshot-"
Van Pelt suggested, "Put it in a ziplock baggie in the refrigerator. Won't hurt the phone and that's pretty foolproof to be sure nothing is overheard."
Lisbon continued, "But you'll still have to use the regular cell occasionally so we don't tip off the fact we know they're compromised. Questions?"
"No boss" they answered in unison. The group broke up and left, with only Lisbon and Jane staying behind.
Lack of sleep and the explosion's after effects catching up with him, Jane slumped, eyes closed momentarily. Lisbon rubbed his shoulder. "Jane," she said softly, "there's something more, isn't there?"
After a moment, "Maybe. Remember what we were talking about after the Minelli dinner?"
"Yeah."
"Some of that might be part of the puzzle."
"So who do you think?"
"Too soon to say. Let's wait for the guys to do their work."
Lisbon sat back, "Well, then let me guess. Stiles is pushing 70. That's pretty old to be carrying out brutal, physically taxing murders. He also has a world-wide cult to run. I'd guess it's not Stiles." She paused, but Jane offered nothing.
She continued. "McAllister? Uh, possible but unlikely. At 51 he's just barely young enough to be working on the Elliston farm when the first Red John murders were done at the red barn. But I just can't see him as Lorelei's lover, or sharing tea and Bach insights with Rosalind. Red John must be a terrific liar, but if I had to guess, McAllister just doesn't seem like he has the right personality. Also, how does a sheriff way out in Napa have the resources and freedom of movement to get to Tijuana to kill Renfrew? Or Malibu to kill your family – especially on short notice? How does he get inside CBI without someone questioning his presence? And you said he had the three red dot tattoo – not consistent with Red John's unbounded sense of superiority, of being unequaled. So, not McAllister."
Lisbon stopped for over a minute. Jane remained quiet, eyes closed, but clearly listening as he tilted his head in her direction. She finally continued. "Unless you're wrong, unless Red John isn't one of your seven suspects, that leaves Haffner. Right age. Physically strong. Credible lover for Lorelei and Rosalind. Familiar face in the FBI and CBI. Visualize connections and money. Hell, he's a specialist in electronics and surveillance, meaning computers, too." She swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. "God, Jane. That's chilling. I used to like Haffner..."
Jane roused himself enough to comment quietly, "Which speaks to his charisma, his ability to attract devoted followers. And lovers."
Lisbon turned her head, suddenly nauseous. "We have to be sure. And we have to finish this."
"Yeah." After a few moments, "I have some stuff I should do, Lisbon."
She took his arm, "I think some sleep on my couch might be a better idea. Come on, Jane. You're dead on your feet and still recovering. Can it wait?"
"Okay. A couple of hours." They walked back to her car and drove back to her townhouse.
