"I didn't know you were a baseball fan, Finch. The Mets?"
"Not particularly..."
"The Orioles?"
"I suppose…"
"The A's. "
By the middle of the exchange Finch is smiling broadly.
John Reese is playing his favorite game once more: attempting to trick his boss into revealing personal information. It's been a while since the ex-op has shown interest in that little side-line project…and who could have predicted that he, Finch, would have missed it? Especially since their relationship hadn't started so auspiciously...
...
For too long Finch had attempted to compress memories of the erased irrelevant list into a small corner of his conscious, but every news article ending in a death reminded him of what he could have done, should have done. Guilt tracked him with the surveillance cameras promoted by his invention, the failed cases on his wall multiplying like bacteria in a Petri dish.
Knowing procrastination as the graveyard of good intentions, he finally took action in an attempt at least, to make a difference to the innocents on that list. And to that end he chose a rogue CIA operative for assistance.
But not without some fingernail biting trepidation!
He never entered into any business association without a thorough due-diligence…this situation being no different. The results of his research however, revealed the man known as John Reese as a truly lethal individual, highly skilled in all that was harmful to humans. And inanimate objects.
With a burgeoning dossier in hand, Finch deliberated several more weeks…when it came to his attention that the object of his consideration was apparently attempting to off himself by crawling into a bottle, and could very well be contemplating more efficient methods to leave this earthly plane of existence. The decision made, Finch hastened to initiate contact before that could occur.
Before one more photo added to his wall of shame…
...
"I know exactly everything about you, Mr. Reese."
Were it not for the initial belief - and later evidence thereof - that John Reese actually possesses a working conscious, Finch can almost accept the ex-op has shades of the sociopath in his makeup. After all, 'normal' human beings don't go around shooting people in the kneecaps…even if said people deserve it.
Or continually flaunt all authority, nonchalantly commit B & E, pilfer cars without compunction, lie convincingly, effortlessly…and on and on. All very anti-social behaviors that have shrinks shaking their heads…while gleefully rubbing collective hands at the thought of publishing such a case history in the latest edition of Psychopathology.
Of course Reese's former employer has been instrumental in developing that facet of the ex-ops personality. The CIA, by mere virtue of their job description, routinely set any moral compass spinning, and over the years it took Reese to perfect his deadly skills, the ex-op would have had to acquire an armor of insensitivity in order to remain disconnected from the mayhem and destruction he causes…or leaves behind.
That armor is likely all that stands between sanity and the ex-agent being a bona fid candidate for the Somerville Asylum.
...
"You were too late for her, just like you were too late for your friend Jessica."
No, Finch did not approach John Reese without severe misgivings. But the timing could not be ignored: the ex-op's whole world had turned up-side-down. A dead girl friend, abandoning the CIA, becoming homeless, thoughts of suicide …Finch gambled that personal loss and grief would make the ex-op more manageable, more amenable to an offer of employment.
After all, the rogue was grief stricken and vulnerable.
That last being a gross miscalculation, he remembers now with a grimace.
A statement uttered with the confidence of one who has never had to exist in the same reality as the Reese's of the world, triggered a violent outbreak. He'll never forget his terror pinned to the wall of that hotel room, the ex-op's forearm threatening to assist him into an early grave. That aggressive response alone has been justification enough to shore up his defenses…keep his distance, walled off from this man.
But he is also realistic enough to know his wall is under constant siege…
...
I recognize Mr. Reese, that there is a disparity between how much I know about you and how much you know about me…
The game started as soon as his hired gun was in his employ. An ex-op with years of experience tracking down shadowy cabals and fleeing terrorists no doubt has resources that rival those of a reclusive billionaire. But Reese admitted readily that attempts to discover more of his boss's background only reveals what Finch already knows: the software genius, the reclusive billionaire, the silent partner in the development of The Machine…doesn't exist.
Finch never responds to questions about his past …but the withering looks he gives his employee seemingly do little to deter further queries. And as would any resilient agent, Reese simply changes tactics.
But thus far the wall is still holding strong.
...
"We'll meet on my schedule, Mr. Reese, not yours…"
A common tactic Reese utilizes is one Finch can fully appreciate: surveillance.
Though very aware his employee frequently tracks him, it had been difficult in the beginning to catch the ex-op in that endeavor. Not until he made some 'adjustments' to Reese's phone…a phone of course provided to his employee under the account heading of 'business equipment', dutifully listed between the Luger and Suits.
With the installation of a phone app he'd personally developed, an alert warns him whenever Reese is within range, a small red dot providing the exact location of his shadow. That led to some interesting experiments in the beginning during which he had attempted to thwart the ex-agent's effort to tail him. Most often, and only because of the app, he was successful.
The Finch outfoxes the wolf….the activity added color to his relatively shades of gray existence. He still grins at the thought.
...
"What's good here? It's an innocent question."
"No question is ever innocent from you, Mr. Reese."
Early in their association, Finch was often exasperated with his hired gun. Having lost much of his fear of the ex-op over the weeks…months…as he fit together the puzzle pieces of the man's personality, he still finds it difficult to converse on any intimate level, constantly on guard against inadvertently letting slip personal information.
His armed agent of destruction processes an uncanny ability to make a whole out of practically nothing, every word spoken weighed and analyzed for pertinent data. Their conversations are never completely without that not-so-hidden agenda, making their every interaction somewhat of a challenge. There is no doubt in his mind that Reese will pounce on even the most insignificant data thread and unravel it to the end.
Over the course of months, he has also been exposed to the ex-op's wry sense of humor, the tendency to tease and cajole, but Finch never forgets his employee is a warrior to the core, that urbane veneer only deep enough to play any social game with finesse.
He keeps up his guard at all times…
...
"It's Sencha Green tea. One sugar."
"You've been paying attention…"
"Relax, Finch. It's just tea. I haven't guessed your favorite color yet."
Reese inadvertently revealed the game plan the first day of their working a Number together: when asked how to gather personal information he presented Finch with two methods.
"The slow way: Cultivate a relationship to allow you to earn the asset's trust..."
"The fast way: Break into their home and go through their stuff – emails, financial records, personal effects…"
The ex-op's techniques vary, and are frequently altered, but always follow the Game Plan.
In the execution of method one, Finch knows Reese continually attempts to burrow under his guard, follows him to restaurants, work places, brings him tea and donuts. Jokes with him, shows…concern…when the older man works all night.
And his employee displays an amazing set of skills. When method one – cultivate a relationship – goes off track, Reese simply turns to method two, a covert operation…
...
"I do sense my privacy being invaded…"
That his library has been searched thoroughly is a given, as is the fact that his computer system has been breached frequently, though thus far the ex-op has not been able to get past the security codes…which are changed daily. Finch had not expected someone experienced in the use of a variety of weapons and lethal hand-to-hand combat to also possess such an admirable set of computer skills. His employee continually surprises him, forcing him to pay attention, to stay one step ahead in order to preserve his privacy.
But in the end, he's lost the one secret that rivaled the existence of the Machine: Grace…
How did Reese find out where she lived? That is a question that will puzzle him till end of times…or until he manages to convince the ex-op to explain it to him. He had been certain that Reese had not been able to trail him to the condo, nor had he ever left evidence of his relationship to Grace where it could be found.
But it is now a confidence shared. And with that connection, he has to accept that the ex-op has become much more than just hired muscle with a gun. Reese is now in possession of the one secret Finch hoped to hide forever from the world.
But that doesn't mean he won't make the ex-op work for the rest…!
...
"Oakland is fine…and the Cubs…and the Red Sox too. Although I'm not certain my affection for any of these teams will reveal where I grew up!"
Finch grins as his employee abruptly changes the subject.
Game on...!