Chapter One
The lights were dim, and the low hum of people talking filled the small bar; but none of that registered with the lone figure nursing a beer. His blue eyes were focused on something and he simply watched the different groups of friends, colleagues, lovers and most probably criminals. A man stood up and walked over to the jukebox, one of the old fashioned ones; like the rest of the bar was, and let some music play. The actual song meant nothing to the man at the bar, and he just remained fixated on one thing; and it was not on the beer still in his hand.
'So, what did you do? Forget an anniversary or lose money?'
The change in noise brought John out of his daze, and he looked to where the voice had come from; a slight smile creeping on his face as he took a sip of his beer.
'Not exactly. Just had a rough day at work.' His voice was low, and smooth.
'When this place is your first stop after work, it must have been a rough day.' The bartender's English accent was a very distinct change from who John normally spoke with, and the sound of a slight, yet sweet laugh was somewhat out of place in such a dodgy looking bar.
John simply shrugged as he looked down at his beer, 'When you have a boss like mine, you would understand.'
'What kind of work are you in? You seem too Wall Street to be in here. You're not our usual type. Not unless the criminal underworld now has contacts in Wall Street.' Again, the bartender smiled at the man sat opposite, this time walking to the other end of the bar to serve a customer.
'So, Mr Reese, have you got eyes on our next number; or are you drowning your sorrows with what one can only assume to be a cheap beer.'
John stood up from the bar and walked outside, the cold air biting at his face. 'Finch, not everyone is gifted with the bank balance to probably own a brewery. Besides, Sophie Masters pulls a rather good pint.'
'Be that as it may, come back to the library. I've got some irregularities we need to discuss.'
John stood in the main room of the library and faced the glass pane which currently held a picture of Sophie Masters. Her blue eyes were smiling along with her mouth in the family photo, and her hair was dark brown and fell in waves over her shoulders. If he did not know better, one would think she was Eastern European; but her thick English accent placed her elsewhere. She was stood hugging an older woman, same blue eyes but grey hair.
'This is the last photo of a Zofia Masters, who is also Sophie Masters; she did not seem to be bothered about changing her first name to much. She is twenty nine, and has lived in the flat above the bar for six months. Her mother, also in this picture, died a year ago of a stroke, and there is no father mentioned anywhere', Finch limped in the main room, and stood next to John while he spoke, both facing the glass pane.
John turned to pick up a file from the desk, and watched as Finch moved to sit behind the computer. Behind that screen is where Finch felt safest, and most capabale.
'So, why her number?'
John flicked through the file complete with all the information Finch had gathered on their latest number, not reading anything that stood out to suggest that the woman was in danger, or even was a danger to anyone.
'I do not know Mr Reese, she was a ordinary student, went to school in London, was in her first year at university until her mother had her first stroke; so she dropped out to help care for her. No other siblings or family members on her mother's side. I cannot find anything to suggest Sophie ever knew her father. And, I cannot find any obvious reason for this number to come up '.
'Finch, if her name is actually Zofia, maybe we should be looking outside of the box for this? Follow the movements of the mother nine months before Zofia was born.' John towered over Finch as they both looked to the computer screen, their minds trying to piece together possibly the most normal woman they had to deal with since becoming partners.
'It seems that you are not just a scowling face, John. Let's hope there was some kind of paper trail thirty years ago.' Harold turned in his chair and made eye contact with his partner; still getting used to human interaction.
John smiled slightly, taking comfort in the fact he was still able to annoy his colleague. Actually, his friend. Or as much as a private billionaire with the ability to save people without having any freak accident making him a superhero; could be. 'I'm sure you'll be able to find out the smallest detail of her mother, Linda.' John flipped through the file to familiarise himself with the smaller details.
'Regardless, the bar is due to close in twenty minutes, why don't you go and make sure Zofia, or Sophie or whoever gets home okay. Her phone signal tells me she is still there, and there have been no messages sent to lure her out or anything like that. I am assuming our bartender has not made many friends since moving over here.' Finch turned back to the computer, and started tapping the keys on the keyboard; drowning out the sound of Reese's footsteps echoing in the Library.
Reese stood in the alleyway opposite the bar, and simply waited; glancing at his watch knowing the place closed in five minutes. The moon was full in the sky, and mesmerised the ex-CIA man while he waited, memories begging to make their way into his head. But he shook himself, and took his phone out, making sure he had not missed Sophie leaving out of the back or anything like that.
SMASH
The noise alerted John, and the scream which followed after caused him to run over to the bar. The back door had been kicked down, and he slowly made his way through; stepping silently as he scanned the area for anyone; holding his gun. John moved like a professional, and snaked his way through the back rooms, each of them clear. He was getting closer to the bar, and could feel a sudden burst of heat come from the front of the building and saw smoke billowing from under the door.
'SOPHIE'. He opened the door and could see the fire blazing from the bar and John had to bend to escape the smoke ever so slightly. His blue eyes desperately scanned the bar to see if Sophie was there.
A figure lying on the floor started to cough, and rolled over onto their side. John instantly recognised the young girl, she appeared to be bleeding and he quickly moved over; hoping the fire would not trap them in from behind.
'Come on Sophie, let's get you out of here.' John held the woman by his side, ignoring the dull ache the smoke had casued. 'Finch, I need you to call an ambulance and the fire service. This wasn't an accident. Sophie has been shot.'
'I have alerted the necessary authorities as well as Detective Carter. Is Sophie alright?'
'She was shot in her shoulder; I'm guessing the shooter wanted to stay down rather than just kill her. The fire was necessary.' John pushed his way past the kicked down back door, and took in a deep breath while watching Detective Carter run over to them both.
'Carter has just arrived, I will leave Sophie with her and keep an eye out. This was a paid hit. Someone wants Sophie dead.' John buckled under the extra weight, and the smoke inhalation, Carter dodged to catch the injured, semi-conscious woman.
'What the hell, can you not go one day without burning something, shooting someone or just generally being you?' Her voice was full of emotion, still unsure of the mystery man in front of her. Her brown eyes were wide, yet still soft as she stood in front of the closed-off John Reese.
John coughed, and a small smile etched itself onto his soot covered face,
'And make your life boring detective? She needs medical attention. No one else was in there that I could see. Her name is Sophie Masters and we need to stop someone from finishing the job.'
'We? Where are you going? You can't just dump a girl on me and disappear. You can barely stand with all the smoke you took in. And what do I say to the first responders?'
'I don't know detective, maybe you were just in the area. I need to go, before more people with louder sirens and even more questions show up. Figure something out, Joss.'
And with that, he was gone.