Joss stepped inside the apartment, closing the door behind her and shaking off the cold as she moved about. She shed her coat and wet shoes, put away the groceries she'd grabbed on the way home, switched on lights and closed curtains as she tried to decide which leftovers to reheat for dinner tonight: a dull, soothing domestic routine. She was peering again into the refrigerator, wondering whether that pasta was still okay when she heard the door open behind her. John came through, a slight frown furrowing his brow as he checked his phone. Uh-oh. Surely he wasn't being called out again? It was nearly Christmas Eve, for God's sake. Finch's Machine had been running them ragged for the last week. Surely it was time for a break?
"Don't tell me. Let me guess. Another Number?" she asked resignedly.
He glanced up from his phone. "No, actually. Look."
The message was from Finch, all right. But all it said was "A side project for you both. La Guardia, 20:25. Domestic Terminal. Bring passports."
She passed the phone back to him, a frown furrowing her own brow. "What in the world is that all about?"
John shrugged as he took the phone. He called up Finch's number and tried calling, but was only sent immediately to voice mail. "So, Carter. What do we do?"
She leaned back against the kitchen counter. "If Finch is sending us out of the country I would think we'll be gone over Christmas. I can't say I had many plans, Taylor being in Aspen with his college friends and all."
"There's the Numbers though..."
"I can't see Finch sending us away if he didn't have cover. It must be something important, John."
"Yeah," he sighed. He looked horribly tired to her. She grabbed his hand and pulled him in for a hug. "Is there time for dinner?" he mumbled plaintively into her hair.
"Uh..." she glanced at the clock on the wall. "There's only that pasta from last week. How about we get something at the airport?" There was a faint cry of protest from the tired man in her arms, but he disentangled himself from her and trudged off to pack.
POI*POI*POI*POI*
There was another text message from Finch as they reached La Guardia, directing them to the check-in counter for United Airlines. "A red-eye to LA," Reese commented as he handed Carter her boarding pass.
"Huh. LA, and then God knows where," she commented thoughtfully. They made their tired way across the concourse to a hole-in-the-wall Thai place and collected their usual: pad thai for her, massaman curry for him. Reese was frowning as he dropped into his seat. "Not quite God knows where," he said as he picked at his food. "We can't be heading to Europe or Africa. Asia, I guess, most likely. Hong Kong? Or Tokyo, maybe..." his voice dropped away into an exhausted mutter. They finished eating, then sat in silence until their flight was called. They didn't talk much as they shuffled aboard and found their seats. The cabin crew dimmed the lights, and Reese allowed himself to sink into sleep, lulled by the muted roar of the jet engines.
POI*POI*POI*POI*
LAX in the small hours of the morning was… busy. And brightly lit. Joss rubbed the gum from her eyes as they stumbled out onto the main concourse. John's phone buzzed. This time Finch had sent them an audio file.
"I'm sorry about the somewhat brutal schedule I'm putting you through," he said. "Your flight leaves in three hours. There's a package I've arranged for you to collect at the FedEx desk containing some items you'll need where you're going. Please don't open it until you get there. John, I have to ask you to divest yourself of all weaponry you might be carrying. You won't need it and it might cause unnecessary complications. Check in again at the United counter over in the international terminal. Good luck."
Joss peered at John as the message ended. "This had better be important, you know," she grumbled. John shrugged agreement as they made their way to the FedEx counter, which was what seemed like several miles away. The package was large, squashy and when Joss peeked in through a corner of the bag, wrapped in gaudy Christmas paper. Good camouflage for whatever it contained, she supposed. Then they faced the long hike back down the terminal to collect their luggage and find the shuttle bus to the international terminal.
The big surprise came when they found out their destination.
"Auckland, New Zealand?" Joss's nose wrinkled in surprise. "What would Finch want us to do there?"
John was just as puzzled. "I've never been there. Never heard of anything going on there, either."
"It's a twelve hour flight. Oh, God." Suddenly Carter felt like crying.
John reached over and snugged her in against his side. "If you want to bail out, Carter, just say the word. I can deal with this myself." She looked up at him and he studied her face. "You look, um, really tired."
She hugged him hard around his waist. "No. you're stuck with me." Another hug. "Besides, you look wrecked, too."
That brought a smile. "Well, I guess between us we might just about add up to one functioning human being. C'mon. At least the seats are first class."
The tickets included passes to the VIP lounge, thank God. They slumped in soft armchairs while they waited for their call. Then in a haze of fatigue they stumbled onto the flight to Auckland, stretched out in the delightfully long and soft and fully reclinable seats, and allowed the big jet to rumble and scream its way across the Pacific.
POI*POI*POI*POI*
"Carter. Wake up." It was early afternoon local time, and they were descending. Reese felt surprisingly alert. His hard-won knack of sleeping on airplanes had stood him in good stead. Carter had been much more restless, he could see. She squinted at him through sticky eyes.
"Is there coffee?" she groused.
"No, but there's a great view. Take a look."
She flinched slightly at the bright light as she glanced out the window. "Very pretty. Coffee."
He tamped a smile down. 'Very pretty' was a bit of an injustice. Rugged, forested hills dropped away into azure waters. A couple of sailboats were out there on the harbour and as they roared overhead on their approach path he saw them both come around in a tack at the same moment. Then they were over land, a single wide runway with very green grass either side and down the central strip. A gentle thud as the wheels touched down, and they had arrived.
They were still queueing at Customs when Reese's phone went again. This time it was Harold in person. Joss leaned in close to listen in, and he obligingly tilted the phone a little so she could hear.
"I take it you've arrived safely?" Harold's voice sounded clear as a bell. The wonders of technology.
"We have," replied Reese. "So what's up, Harold? You've been awfully mysterious, even for you."
"Well, actually, what's up is… you're on vacation. Both of you."
"What?" squeaked Carter, her voice blending with his own. The customs queue moved forward, and they shuffled with it.
"Yes. I've been watching you both getting more and more exhausted, and so I've sent you on vacation. Somewhere far enough away that you can't just get on a plane back here. Somewhere quiet and restorative. You have three weeks and a rental car booked. I've taken the liberty of renting a hotel room near the airport where you can freshen up. But tomorrow you can make the last leg of your journey, if you like. I've got you a holiday home, what the locals apparently call a "bach" on a beach at a place called Otama."
Reese could feel his jaw dropping. The queue moved again. "What about the Numbers, Finch?"
"I have that handled, Mr Reese." Finch paused on the other end of the phone. "I can't prevent you from simply turning around and coming back. But I hope you'll take me up on this offer. There's no cell phone coverage at Otama. Just a beach and a few homes. Take some time for yourselves, recharge your batteries." The queue shuffled forward one last time.
Reese knew when he'd been railroaded. He sighed. "Okay, Finch. We'll stay. And… thanks."
"You're welcome, Mr Reese."
"Anything to declare?" asked the bored customs lady.
POI*POI*POI*POI*
The airport hotel was like hotels everywhere, but the shower was intensely welcome. Their little suite had a decent bed, a TV and a sofa. The décor was anodyne – buff-coloured walls and maroon drapes and scatter cushions. The walls were decorated with photos of some kind of tree native to these parts, Joss supposed: dark green foliage and deep red flowers jammed so tightly together the trees were pure scarlet in some places. She decided to try to stay awake until dark, at least. While the view out the window was nothing to write home about in this part of town, she was grateful for the gust of warm air which came in as she opened the sliding door to emerge onto the little balcony. Of course, it wasn't winter here, it was summer. Christmas in the summertime – who'd have thought?
John emerged from the shower as she stepped back indoors. "So have you opened that package from Finch?" he asked.
"Oh, yeah. I'd forgotten all about that one." She went over to the shelf they'd dumped their bags on and dug it out from the pile. John produced his knife from somewhere – How did he get that through customs? Maybe better not to ask – and slit the package open. The brightly-wrapped parcel within slipped out, and she pulled the paper apart.
A swimsuit – scarlet like the flowers on the trees. Swimming trunks for John, plain black with scarlet piping, subdued but screaming quality in the sleek fabric. The Lonely Planet guide for New Zealand. There was a card inside the cover of the book. Enjoy your stay, Finch had written. Remember they drive on the left here! There were two platinum credit cards in with his note.
Joss flopped down on the bed. "Well. That man never does things by halves, does he. I wonder how much of this place we can see in three weeks?"
John flopped down next to her. "Right now, Carter, I'd rather see other things." His smirk was out in full force, she noticed.
"Typical. We come off a twelve-hour flight and all you can think of is sex."
His smirk did not falter.
"Not that I'm complaining, mind," she added as she reached for him.
To be continued….