"You let everyone find out about your secret, and risked being snatched up and experimented on, just to save my life?" Lucas asked, honestly awed by what his boss was willing to sacrifice for his sake.

vvvv

While Lucas was being treated, Bellevue's ER waiting room played host to Jo and Abe, who sat in supportive silence on either side of an equally silent Henry on the upholstered backless and armless benches. Mike paced in the hallway updating Reece on the situation. Jo smiled at Henry and patted his hand before leaving her seat to join Mike once he'd ended the call. Henry and Abe returned her smile as they watched her leave.

"They say no news is good news," Abe said in an effort to assure his father and himself. "Kid's gonna be fine," he added, nodding.

Henry started to reply but Jo quickly returned with a serious expression on her face. "Sorry, Henry, we've got a lead on the speedboat that Adam tossed Lucas from." Both Henry and Abe stood up with worried looks on their faces as Jo continued.

"U. S. Coast Guard Sector NY found a boat matching witness descriptions, abandoned and adrift just out past the Statue of Liberty. PD's Harbor Unit are on their way over to it."

"Get this," Mike joined in, "A bunch of people aboard two tourboats swear they saw a guy either fall or jump into the water. Coast Guard's searching in that spot but ... " Mike's voice trailed off and he looked at Henry and shrugged.

Henry pondered what they'd just told him and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Henry, if he ... I mean ... do you know where he might resurface or ... does he do that at all?" Jo asked, blinking and shaking her head, uncertain how to word such a question even after all that they'd witnessed and all that Henry had told them.

"I've no idea where he would resurface," a frustrated Henry replied. "But, yes, it would be in water just as I do."

"You're sure of that?" Mike asked, just as uncertain about this line of questioning as his partner was.

"Unfortunately, yes," Henry replied, sighing and shifting his eyes back and forth. "Do you remember Aubrey Griffin?" The two detectives nodded and he continued. "He once showed me a journal that the Nazis had kept on the experiments of Josef Mengele. Can't really call him a doctor; he was simply a deranged butcher. But one patient in particular would die repeatedly and rejuvenate in a nearby river," he whispered. "That patient was Adam."

Both detectives grimaced and fought to digest the grossly unpleasant information. Mengele. The Angel of Death. Hacking up someone over and over just because the person couldn't permanently die.

Mike rubbed his forehead and then asked, "And you believe that patient was Adam?"

Henry raised his eyebrows and sighed before replying. "Adam told me that the Nazis had become aware of his condition while he was imprisoned in one of the camps, which led to Mengele having experimented on him. This was before I'd even met Griffin."

The two detectives exchanged a look, realizing that there was much, much more to Henry's story than he had already shared with them.

"Henry, I, I have to say this," Jo reluctantly told him, struggling to maintain eye contact with him. "Do not go far. You're aware that we may have to question you further," she added. It was more of a statement than a question. During the ride on the way over from the river to the hospital, he'd mentioned that he'd had to flee numerous times and go into hiding in order to avoid being harmed after his secret had been revealed. She wasn't sure if a squad room full of witnesses to his suicidal death and body's vanishing would spur him to run.

"Yes," he replied. "I understand." He did understand. But his first instinct, he had to admit, was to run. As far away as he could and outlive every one of them. However, he'd given his word and maybe with the help of the NYPD, Adam could finally be stopped from harming him or anyone else. And, he further had to admit, this time he didn't want to leave because of Abe ... and because of Jo.

Jo and Mike then left to go check on the abandoned speedboat for clues. They could question Lucas later after the doctor gave the okay. Henry and Abe sat back down, waiting for word from Lucas' doctor.

Less than five minutes later, Lucas' 50-year-old mother, Dora Wahl, and his older sister, Eugenia, arrived from New Jersey in a wide-eyed, breathless rush. When they saw Henry, they rushed up to him instead of to the receptionist.

"You're my son's boss," an anxious Dora stated. She and Eugenia, a shorter, bespectacled, softer near-image of Lucas, proceeded to bombard Henry with questions until he managed to calm them long enough to reply.

"So, someone that you have a quarrel with kidnaps my son, dumps him in the river to drown him!?" Dora asked, incredulous. "What kind of mess did you drag my boy into!?" she demanded as Eugenia placed her hand on her arm, trying to calm her again.

"Mom, he's the one who also saved Luke's life!" the young woman reminded her mother. "We should be grateful."

"Grateful?" Dora huffed. "If it wasn't for him, your brother wouldn't have needed to be rescued in the first place!" Dora broke away and stalked her 5'3" frame over to the receptionist, her single, mingly-gray braid swinging back and forth behind her back. She demanded with a shaky but determined voice to see her son immediately. While the receptionist scrambled to accommodate her, Eugenia shot an apologetic look at Henry and hurried to her mother's side.

"Sorry, Henry," Abe said, remembering to call his father by his given name while in public.

"No, Abraham," he began. "She has every right to be upset with me. Lucas is her son; her child. As a mother, she's willing to fight tooth and nail to keep him safe. As his friend, I should have warned him, all of them, about Adam. I sincerely hope he's all right."

Just minutes later, Lucas was moved from the ER into a regular room with his mother and sister virtually camping out there. With the help of a sympathetic Eugenia, Henry had managed to peek in on him later while Dora was asleep. Only after checking Lucas' chart and vital signs was Abe able to convince his father to return home and freshen up.

vvvv

"Henry said the boat was white in color with a dark outboard motor and a rectangular covering over the helm area," Jo told Mike as they drove to the Village Community Boathouse. "The one the Coast Guard located matches that description and was reported missing from Pier 40 at the Hudson River Park."

Mike shook his head, grinning. "Doc saw all that while in sheer panic from trying to locate and rescue Lucas and coming back to life after having shot his own brains out?" He shook his head and let out a nervous laugh, adding, "Amazing."

"Yeah, well, he said he sees a lot because he's ... seen a lot," Jo reminded him as she pulled up to the pier and parked.

They exited the car and were greeted by the Boathouse's manager, a lumberjack-looking Sam Toliver.

"Boat's called a Scout. It's a 22-footer, usually rented for fishing and seats up to five at $350 for three hours or $660 for a full day," he told them, as they stood at the boat's empty mooring spot. "The party who rented it paid cash for the day."

Mike held out his phone to Toliver to let him see a photo of Dr. Lewis Farber, aka Adam. "This the guy who rented the boat?" he asked.

"Yeah, that's him," Toliver replied. "He was dressed in sort of an oldfashioned way, though, mostly in black. Black, leather gloves, old-style trench coat, and flat-top cap. Not like someone going fishing or even partying."

The two detectives exchanged a look and Mike clicked his phone off and returned it to his pocket.

Toliver placed a fist on his hip while waving his free hand and asked, "That boat's one of my best money makers. When can I get it back?" They informed him the boat was being brought back to the NYPD Harbor Unit's mooring location and would not be available to him again until after the investigation was completed, to which he rolled his eyes in disgust.

vvvv

"Why, in this day and age of computers and online retail, would anyone accept a large, cash payment without getting a little suspicious or even a valid address from a customer?" Mike growled as they walked back to the car. "Especially using a name like Tyrion Lannister."

Jo chuckled dryly and said, "Apparently, Toliver isn't a fan of the 'Game of Thrones' show or at least he would have questioned that."

"Maybe he needed the cash to feed a habit or he was taking the payment under the table, ya know, to minimize his tax liability," Mike casually speculated.

"But at least we already know who really rented the boat and what he looks like. Just ... still don't know his real name or where he really lives," she added, shrugging.

Yeah," Mike said. "The home address on file at Bellevue for Farber is a tarot card reading store on East 33rd Street!"

"Poor Henry, dealing with this creep for so long all by himself," Jo said despairingly.

"Well, now he's got the NYPD to help him," Mike said as they drove off in Jo's car. "We'll find this Adam and put him away."

"What say we pay a visit to that tarot card place anyway? It'll give us something to do while waiting for Harbor Patrol to bring the boat in."

"Worth a shot," Mike said. "Maybe they can give me some lottery numbers to play. Some winning numbers."

vvvv

'NYC trip would have great stops in Hoboken, NJ. Surf City is a great stop, then Statue of Liberty(drive by photo op), then stops in New York, Luis Clam Bar ... '

Lucas laughed, railing at himself for his own gullibility that had allowed him to walk right into Adam's trap. He'd received an official-looking award letter from McSorley's with free tickets for a speedboat ride on the Hudson. Even though he couldn't recall entering any contest at his favorite watering hole, and even though he hadn't been able to come up with a date for the second ticket, he'd gladly shown up at Pier 40 at the specified time and date to claim his prize.

'Stupid!' he berated himself again even though he realized that nothing looked suspicious to him when he found only Henry's former psychotherapist, Lewis Farber, on the boat. Farber, clothed in a discount-store version of Henry's expensively-tailored manner of dress, had informed him that he, too, was a winner, and produced the same mailing with the flyer and two tickets inside of it. The man had appeared friendly enough to Lucas and had told him - lied to him - that his wife would join them shortly, and that the pilot had temporarily stepped away. Once he'd boarded the boat and found a comfortable seat, Farber had suggested they treat themselves to a drink while waiting for the others to arrive.

'Stupid!' He berated himself yet again for having allowed Farber or Adam, as Henry called him, to serve both of them a drink. Whatever sedative the crazy man had put in his drink continued to wreak havoc in his system, causing him to suffer occasional waves of nausea and vertigo. Even when he closed his eyes, the room continued to spin. It felt like he was in one of those oversized, spinning teacups at Disneyland only this wasn't any fun.

He knew his mother was camping out in his room and his sister had been in and out. He also knew that Henry had been there, checking him and his chart the night before but he hadn't been able to open his eyes because of the dizziness and nausea and something the nurse had pumped into him for the pain from his bruised knees and elbows. Must have happened when Adam had had trouble dumping his long body overboard. He concluded that even if he'd been conscious, he might not have been able to swim very well to save himself from drowning. Luckily, his boss had known where to find him and had rescued him. Lucas knew that he would eventually recover but what of Henry? Would he be able to recover from having revealed his secret in order to save him? A feeling of guilt was growing stronger alongside the gratefulness he felt.

Lucas mulled over the fact that Abe was Henry's son. His elderly son, who may or may not have a lot of years left. He figured that both men may have worried about that from time to time. It was apparent that Abe had not only kept his father's secret for many years but that he'd provided a bastion of protection and friendship for him at the same time. In return, Lucas resolved to do whatever he could to maintain that level of support for the Immortal once Abe was no longer able to do so.

vvvv

Abe's Antiques ...

"Look at 'em down there," Abe grumbled to his father. They peered over the edge of the rooftop terrace at the crowd milling outside the shop below. When someone in the crowd noticed and pointed to them, the others looked up and began shouting at once. "Are they kidding? They want you to come down there?" He stepped back from the edge of the terrace, pulling his father back with him.

"Perhaps I should," Henry said.

"No! They just wanna drag you away somewhere and, and, and do God knows what to you!" Abe exclaimed. "Where are the cops?" he asked, exasperated. "Said they were on their way!"

"Maybe that's why I should go down there," Henry repeated. "Try to keep things calm until - " Both men broke out into wide grins at the sound of sirens growing ever louder and then cars skidding to sudden stops. "They're here," Henry said, patting his son on the arm.

"Great but ... you're not still planning to go to work, are you?" Abe asked.

"Why not? They're going to provide an escort for me. The Lieutenant promised," Henry replied as he walked toward the stairs. He and Abe stopped in their tracks when the wind suddenly whipped up on the terrace and the familiar whirr of helicopter blades came from up above. Both men knew that sound well from their respective stints in the military. They looked up to see a TV news helicopter from Channel 8, a figure leaning out of the side with a bullhorn.

"Dr. Morgan! Dr. Henry Morgan! Would you care to make a statement? People are very interested in your story!"

"Good Lord, this is all becoming a circus," Henry said, shaking his head and ducking quickly down the stairs with Abe close behind him.

Once they reached the safety of the second-floor living quarters, they paused to catch their breaths. Henry had been in this same position several times during his long life, surrounded by a mob. Sometimes he'd been lucky enough to get away before the mob could harm him. Sometimes he'd not been so lucky. But he had always been alone. This was different from scurrying out of town with Abigail and a younger Abe whenever he thought a suspicious someone was sniffing too closely around his door.

Now he feared that if a certain group of people were to get their hands on him, their determination to unlock the key to his curse would extend to potentially harming his son. He was a doctor, a healer; not a killer. But he was prepared to do whatever was necessary in order to protect his son.

They startled at the sound of breaking glass and realized that the mob must have broken in the door downstairs. Henry stepped in front of Abe, shielding him with his own body. Their hearts were in their throats. A booming, male voice was shouting their names.

"Henry Morgan! Abraham Morgan! Please show yourselves!"

"Dad, you can go," Abe whispered shakily to him. "You can get away. I'll be fine."

"No, Abraham!" Henry replied emphatically, mentally rejecting Abe's unspoken advice that he escape by committing suicide.

"Besides, they'll still have the river surrounded, looking for Adam. I'm sure the crowds there are bigger than the one here. What would happen to me if I suddenly pop up again there, naked?" He shook his head while Abe clutched his father's shoulders, leaning his forehead against his back and his eyes closed in frustration.

"Okay, okay, you're right," Abe said. He hated it that his father felt the need to act as a human shield for him against what they thought was an approaching mob. But this was also something that they had discussed more than once over their many years together. He tightened his clutch on his father's shoulders, feeling the smart of tears at the backs of his eyelids.

Footsteps were on the stairs now. "This is the NYPD! Henry Morgan! Abraham Morgan! Show yourselves, please! We are here to escort you to safety!"

Father and son, both speechless, blinked in pleasant surprise at the sight of an ESU team running up the stairs with assault weapons. One of them, the apparent leader, walked quickly over to them with an extended arm.

"I'm Sgt. Rod Donaldson, gentlemen. Lt. Reece sent us. If you'll come with us, we'll get you out of here. But first ... I need you guys to suit up."

They watched in awe as two of the ESU team members peeled off their uniforms and handed them to Donaldson, who passed them to Henry and Abe. Without a word, they donned the gear while their replacements, dressed in streetclothes similar to theirs, put on baseball caps and dark glasses.

"Decoys," Abe chortled. "Smart."

The father and son duo, both war veterans, clutched the assault weapons in the correct manner without any coaching from Donaldson, who appeared impressed. "Seen action?" he asked them.

"Army Rangers. Nam," Abe proudly replied.

"Royal Army Medical Corps," Henry stiltingly replied. He felt it best not to specify that his last service was in World War Two or that his first was in the 1790s during the Napoleonic Wars.

Donaldson nodded appreciatively and with a two-fingered salute, said, "Thank you for your service." Donaldson then mustered them in as part of the ESU team and led them down the stairs and out of the shop past the crowd of gawkers, appearing to provide security for the replacement Henry and Abe, who boarded a waiting van with four ESU team members.

Once inside a second van, Donaldson reached into his jacket pocket and produced a cell phone, handing it to Henry, who held it briefly as if it were a hot potato, then awkwardly passed it to Abe. Abe put it to his ear and grinned broadly. "Jo! Yeah, he's right here," Abe said. He passed the phone back to his father, who eagerly spoke into it.

"Jo? ... Oh, it's good to hear your voice ... Yes, we're, we're in the ESU van now. We should be arriving ... Not to work? ... Alright. See you then. And, and thank the Lieutenant for me, will you? ... Okay, bye." The phone beeped when the call ended and Henry tried to give it back to the Sergeant.

"Better keep that, Doctor," the African-American ESU leader advised him. "A present from the Lieutenant." He pulled off his helmet, revealing a cleanly-shaven head with a mustache and goatee gracing handsome, brown-skinned features. "Said she understands now why you refused to carry one. She also said to let you know that there are a lot more where that one came from."

Henry, overcome with gratitude, managed to smile and say, "Well, I'd ... better learn how to really use one, then." He studied the phone cradled in his hands and then looked smilingly at his son seated next to him.

"I'll help you learn how to use it, uh, Henry," Abe assured him, returning his smile. They looked over at the ESU leader and the other three team members in the van with them, wondering if they knew of their true relationship and that there might be no need to try to hide it.

Donaldson viewed the two men contemplatively and finally said, "Quite a thing you did, Dr. Morgan, saving that young man from drowning like that. Kick in the head that everything happened right in the same spot where you were, uh, swimming."

"Yes, ah, quite," Henry agreed with raised brows over a knowing smile. It was apparent to him and Abe that Donaldson was either not bringing up Henry's self-demise in the precinct in order to quickly get to Lucas in the river or he really didn't know about it. A gift from providence that he gladly accepted.

Although inside the well-insulated van, the whirr of helicopter blades was heard once again above them. Abe and Henry instinctively looked up, their eyes moving back and forth.

"Sounds like more than one," Abe said, squinting and listening harder.

"You're right, Abraham," Henry agreed.

Looking up, Donaldson told them, "The other helicopter has to be paparazzi." He looked at Henry and Abe and added, "Our guys will make sure that they follow the decoy van with the two fakes in it."

The sound of two helicopters was soon reduced to one and father and son breathed collective sighs of relief. But neither felt completely comfortable not knowing for sure if Donaldson and his men were knowledgeable about their true relationship and Henry's condition. Sensing their apprehension, Donaldson sought to assure them both.

"Don't worry, gentlemen," he told them. "We appreciate how much you've done to help the NYPD, Dr. Morgan. Rest assured that the department will utilize all of its resources to keep you both safe from harm. From anyone and everyone." He winked at them and added, "We take care of our own."

About 40 minutes later, the team traded the van for a helicopter and transported Henry and Abe on the last 30 minutes of their journey. They landed on the helipad of an immense, white, six-story building with a four-columned entrance under a large pediment. Henry recognized the building but didn't feel the need to let on just yet. He and Abe relinquished their weapons to one of Donaldson's men and they all descended the rooftop stairs to an elevator on the floor below. It took them to the bowels of the building and opened onto the first floor of a department-store sized labyrinth of rooms with three-foot-thick concrete walls. The intricate air-intake system — meant to filter out radiation — created a vacuum-like effect upon entering. The wind howled around them, sucking all the doors shut.

With merely the slightest flick of his hand for them to follow him, Donaldson wordlessly led them across the expansive, main room to yet another elevator. Once inside, the other three ESU members positioned themselves near the front of the door and one of them punched the down button. Donaldson stood behind them with Henry and Abe. Both men were so awed by everything that they hadn't taken the time to consider that they might be in danger. In danger of being held against their will. But they had to believe Donaldson, that he and his unit had been sent by Lt. Reece to spirit them to safety until things died down.

"In here, gentlemen," Donaldson finally spoke. He walked into a large room with multiple, metal-framed cots and Henry, Abe, and the others filed in behind him. "Not exactly the Hilton," he joked, "but surprisingly comfortable." He waved a hand at the cots and said, "Take your pick." He then walked over to a long counter with a brown, laminate top and a mirror above it as long as the counter. He retrieved a small booklet from the center drawer which he promptly gave to Abe because they assumed that he thought Abe was the elder of them. For that reason, they both relaxed a bit more, believing that Reece must have withheld their family secrets from the ESU team. It still brought on that old feeling of misplacement that made them want to explain the person's error to them all the while knowing it was best not to and that burying the truth was best for them.

"Everything you need to know about this place is in here, such as where all of the restrooms, eating areas, and dispensaries are. There's even a swimming pool, a library, and a movie theater," he told them while Abe flipped through the booklet.

Donaldson and his men began filing out but not before having them step out of the ESU uniforms and hand them to two of his men. He left them with the promise that the Lieutenant and his two detective colleagues would soon visit them.

Father and son found themselves alone in the large room with the gray-blanketed cots lined up dormitory style. Abe passed the booklet to Henry, who flipped through the pages after dropping onto one of the cots.

"I'm hungry," Abe said. He looked over the room with his fists on his hips, then at his father. "That granola bar and bottled water they gave us in the van did not hit the spot."

"I agree," Henry replied, sitting up. "It hit a spot but not the spot." He turned to a page and stood up, reading it. "There is an actual eatery with real cooks just down the corridor." He closed the booklet and said, "Let's go check it out."

As they left the room in search of food that might hit the spot, Abe asked if there were any lingering doubts about them really being safe there.

"Let's ... try not to think that way, Abraham," Henry urged him. "As long as we're together - that's all that matters. And I fully expect the Lieutenant and the detectives to be here as soon as they can."

"Okay," Abe said slowly. "They come and ... what?"

"We map out a plan together," Henry replied as they approached what most certainly had to be the eatery. "One that will ensure our safety from here on."

The eatery was lain out more like a fancy steakhouse with dark wood furniture, white, linen tablecloths, brass chandeliers and wall sconces, and beautifully polished, hardwood floors. The walls were adorned with paintings of landscapes, historic landmarks, and what they believed were replicas of some Norman Rockwell paintings. They deduced the other "customers" to be either guests like themselves or employees of this special facility built in the 1950s to shelter members of the three branches of government in case of an atomic bomb attack. Since the early 1990s, though, parts of it hosted guided tours and other parts were used for data storage.

"And ensure that we'll be able to remain in New York and resume our lives here?" Abe pressed, his voice lowered.

"Of course, Abraham," he replied, forcing a smile. He didn't want to alarm his son. "Let's place our orders."

As tech-savvy as Abe was, both he and Henry eyed the table-mounted, bouncepad tablet next to the condiment tray on their table with more than a bit of uncertainty. Abe had heard of the devices popping up in restaurants but he had yet to use one. Undaunted, however, he dove in and tapped on the 5"x7" screen to place their meal orders. And after a reasonable wait, their meals were brought to their table making them feel, in that moment, that they were in any normal restaurant in New York.

"There were no prices on that little ordering screen," Henry told the white-shirted, black-skirted woman serving them.

"That's because everything's free," she replied with a smile. "I'll be back with your beverages."

"Cool," Abe said. He leaned over his plate of linguini with clam sauce and creamed spinach and happily pointed out, "That means we don't have to tip, either."

Henry smiled in response as he used his knife and fork to slice a very tender and perfectly cooked filet mignon.

In truth, neither man had ruled out the need for a possible run to parts unknown. And that it might be easier for Henry to accomplish than for Abe. But for now, they elected to put those thoughts aside and enjoy their meal.

vvvv

11th Precinct, Lt. Reece's office ...

The Lieutenant had just ended a call with Sgt. Donaldson, head of the ESU Team that had provided safe passage for Henry and Abe to the Greenbriar Hotel in West Virginia. She then focused her attention on Jo and Mike, who had listened in on the call over the speaker phone. They filled her in on what they had so far on Adam aka Lewis Farber and how he had apparently gotten to Lucas.

"Someone like that just wandering freely around, hurting others for the fun of it really makes me mad," Reece said. "What's worse, he's somehow gotten himself into a position of authority, of trust, in order to hide in plain sight."

Reece privately bemoaned the fact that several members of the precinct's unit had been referred to Farber from the beginning of her tenure there until she had ordered Henry to visit him at the end of 2014. She now questioned if Farber was a cover that Adam lived and operated under in order to earn a living or, God forbid, if Farber was a real person, a real psychotherapist he'd killed and whose identity he'd assumed.

"There was a Lewis Farber who'd worked at Bellevue in the 1970s as an ambulance driver," Jo told her. "But it could have just been someone with the same name."

"Photo IDs weren't issued back then?" Reece asked.

"Oh, they were," Mike replied, "but we didn't find one in either the hospital's employee database or in the DMV's."

"Based on the information we now have regarding the necessity for an Immortal to be a chameleon in order to survive in a constantly changing society," Reece pointed out, "we can't rule out that it could have still been Adam. Dig deeper on him," she told them just as her phone rang. She raised a hand to Jo and Mike to prevent them from leaving.

"Lt. Reece," she answered. After listening for a few moments and nodding her head slightly as she made some notes, she said, "Alright. Thank you." She hung up and stood up, tearing the page off of her small notepad and folded it, placing it in her pocket.

"That was Harbor Rescue," she told them as she left her desk and motioned them toward the door. "They got him."

The three of them left the Precinct in Jo's assigned vehicle.

"They packaged him for Bellevue," Reece informed them. "Apparently, he resurfaced on the Manhattan side of the East River but he was clipped by another speedboat just as he'd resurfaced."

"Sounds ... gross," Mike said, grimacing. "But befitting. He likely?"

"Would it matter?" Jo replied.

They all frowned, silently considering how problematic it would be if Harbor Patrol were to pluck a naked but uninjured Adam from the frigid waters again any time soon.

vvvv

"He's lucky," Adam's attending physician, Dr. LeRoy Waltham, told them. "Only scrapes and bruises from what could have been a more deadly outcome for him. We're keeping him overnight, though, for observation."

Reece and her two detectives all breathed a sigh of relief. "How soon can we speak with him?" Reece asked.

"You can go in now," the doctor replied. He told them where Adam was located and they exchanged goodbyes.

Once they found the small cubicle of a room where Adam was, they pushed the curtain back and entered, making sure that their badges were prominently displayed. He lay in a hospital bed in one corner with his eyes closed, arms at his sides with his left arm bandaged elbow to shoulder and an IV in his other arm. His eyes opened at the sound of Lt. Reece addressing him as Dr. Farber.

She held up her badge and said, "I'm Lt. Reece from the 11th Precinct, NYPD. These are my colleagues - "

"I know who you are," Adam replied, wearily. "Don't you know by now that I know who all of you are?"

"No pretense, then. What is it you want?" Reece asked, cursing him in her thoughts. "Is this one of those games Henry says you like to play?"

Adam chuckled softly and took in a deep breath before responding. "Henry told you about me and the fun he and I used to have," he added, chuckling again.

"This is all so funny to you," Reece began. "Toying with people, threatening them, harming them. Bet you get a big kick out of that." She tilted her head to the side and continued. "Makes me wonder if it's to compensate for something in your own life that's ... much smaller."

The look of amused smugness left Adam's face and flew onto Jo's and Mike's. Adam leveled his small, piercing eyes on her. "I have neither the desire nor the time to trade insults with you. Your precious Henry brought all this on himself by ignoring me, not believing me. He forced my hand!" he hissed through clenched teeth.

"You mean by choosing to live his life as a sane person dealing with normal responsibilities instead of messing around with the likes of you?" she countered.

His laughter rumbled from his gut. "You actually sent him to me, remember? How does it feel to know that you were part of my little game?"

Reece leaned closer to him and whispered, "About the same way you're going to feel being part of my end game."

Her cryptic statement halted his laughter. He stared at her, narrowing his eyes. "Others have challenged me but no one has ever won."

"Oh, I don't know," Reece replied matter-of-factly. "Henry did a pretty good. He's a nice man with a good heart." She dropped her smile and leveled her own piercing stare at him. "But, uh, I'm not nearly so nice as he is. In fact, I'm a real bitch when it comes to protecting the public and especially those I care about." She straightened back up, maintaining her piercing stare. "So. Game On."

The three of them prepared to leave after a uni arrived to stand guard outside his room with explicit instructions to keep a sharp eye out on him and sharp objects away from him.

"Dr. Farber might try to do something foolish to harm himself," the Lieutenant told the uni. "Make sure that he stays nice and healthy."

The uni, Officer Patrick Muldoon, who had heard enough Car 54 jokes to fill a squad room, nodded, placed his hands on his belt on either side of his buckle and determinedly positioned himself just outside Adam's room. "Copy that," he told her.