Tracking the Bird of Prey
Something in Reese's voice made Finch pause. Do his job? His job was digging in people's pasts. And in his digging in Reese's past, he had not precisely memorized every detail. Where was it he had been stationed in 1999 and 2000?
All it took was a quick look through his files. Fort Riley, Kansas. Reese was stationed there for one year, the same year Jenny Thompson spent there. It was quite a leap from a coincidence of two people in New York City having associations with the area around an Army base to assumption of paternity, and yet where people like himself and Mr. Reese were concerned, Finch had learned never to trust coincidences. Assuming, just for the moment, that Reese had known this woman in Kansas and that he had fathered her child, or, conversely, that it was reasonable to assume that he had even if he hadn't, it would mean Katherine was only important for her identity or her assumed identity. That was quite a few assumptions, and he wasn't going to believe them until he had proof. But if by chance it should be true, it narrowed down (or perhaps vastly widened) the field of who might be a threat to the girl. Anyone from Reese's past, or anyone from his present.
No.
Elias. It could be Elias.
If it was, it probably meant the girl was in immediate danger. He checked the clock on his computer. Ten minutes past the school bell. Quickly he looked into the security cameras on the streets surrounding the school. After several minutes, he found it.
A girl with long, light red-brown hair was getting out of a car. She hovered for a moment on the sidewalk, then turned toward the school. The car pulled away, and she turned a corner out of sight. The timestamp on the feed said twelve minutes ago. He was about to jump to another camera when she came walking back. Accompanied by a man. Her body posture was stiff, but she walked straight ahead and did not look right or left or behind her. Finch put his hand to his mouth.
He jumped to the next camera, on the next block. They were still walking. Next block, still walking. Next block, they came up to a grey Buick LeSabre with a man leaning against it. Finch stiffened. He recognized that man. The first man pushed the girl into the vehicle. Finch was already writing down the license plate number. Didn't anyone ever notice security cameras on buildings?
"Reese! Mr. Reese, we've made a terrible mistake. They've got her already. Mr. Reese, do you hear me?"
"Who's got her, Finch?"
"Elias, Mr. Reese. Elias has her. Go get in your vehicle, now, Mr. Reese!"
He heard the sound of Reese running. "How do you know it's Elias, Finch?"
"I recognized one of the men. I tapped into security feeds. They had her ten minutes ago, Reese."
"I'm at my car. Tell me where to go, Finch!"
"Straight south on Eugene Drive. I'm following their progress on security cameras. They went left. I've lost them—no cameras on that street. No, there! Left on Elizabeth. They've gotten into some heavy traffic. Do you see them, Mr. Reese? Dark grey Buick."
"Not yet! The traffic is bad. No, now I do. Listen, Finch, here's what we're going to do. Get your car and come meet me. We'll tackle them together."
"Mr. Reese, tackling people is not my area."
"Finch, I need another car for this. I have to get them into a side road and force them to stop, and I can't ram them, not with a child in the car. Get the car now, Finch! Oh, and take The Turn of the Screw off the shelf behind you."
"You want me to read Henry James to the kidnappers, Mr. Reese?"
"No, I want you to bring the Smith and Wesson I put behind it."
"Mr. Reese, I am not comfortable with you leaving guns on shelves in my library."
"Finch!"
Somehow Finch found himself driving his new Mercedes station wagon at an entirely unsafe rate of speed through morning traffic with a gun on the seat beside him. He kept giving it worried looks, as if it was going to suddenly blow up. Reese gave him directions as he drove, and it wasn't long before he caught him up in his impressive-looking black SUV.
"Here's the plan, Finch. As soon as they turn off out of this traffic, I'm pulling up around them and forcing their car to the side. You're going to pull up and block them from behind. Get out immediately and keep your gun on the driver. I'll go around and get the girl out. If they try to fight, shoot your man in the knee. We'll get the girl in my vehicle and get away. You'll have to leave your car. It'll be faster."
Finch pressed his lips together and didn't argue. It was a little girl, and it was Elias. He could buy half a dozen of these cars with the cash he had in his pocket. "Acknowledged, Mr. Reese."
It looked like Reese was keeping well enough back that his vehicle wouldn't be noticed by the kidnappers. Finch kept close behind him in the traffic.
"They're turning on Riah Street, Finch. There's construction ahead, and they'll be forced to detour onto Mortimer. That's where we'll make our move."
Finch clutched the steering wheel. "Do you know all the side streets of New York City, Mr. Reese?"
"I'm working on it, Finch."
"And when will the monographs on cigarette ash be forthcoming?"
"What?"
"Never mind. The allusion seems to be wasted on you."
"Finch, are you ready?"
"Yes, Mr. Reese."
Ahead, Reese jerked his SUV into a tiny street and screeched around the grey car, barely missing the cars parked on the left. Finch squeezed his eyes shut and followed, then remembered to open them again before he hit the back of the sedan. Reese was flying out of the SUV; Finch grabbed the little Smith and Wesson, which fit neatly into his hand, wondered inconsequentially if Reese had procured it specifically for him and why on earth hadn't he thought to get a bulletproof vest from Reese's stash? He was out of his car faster than he thought possible, and his gun was aiming itself at the driver leaping from the seat of the grey car.
The second man had pulled the girl from the car, but Reese's gun was already at his head.
"Let her go," Reese said in his whispery, dangerous voice. "We won't do anything to you if you let her go."
The man immediately let go of her. "Fine by me."
The driver didn't seem so sure.
"Deal's off unless you both agree," Reese said. Finch kept his gun on him.
He finally shrugged. "Elias will find her," he said, jerked his head at the other man, and turned and walked away.
Reese carefully approached the girl, who stood staring at them. She was small but had long limbs that promised height. Her hair was long, thick, and a light reddish-brown, her eyes wide and blue, slightly grey in the cloudy October morning, her mouth wide, sensitive, trembling.
"Hello, Katherine. I'm John, and this is my friend Harold. We've come to take you away."
Her eyes went wider. Finch sighed. Really, Mr. Reese? "Can't you see you're only frightening her more, Mr. Reese?" He tried to give her a comforting smile. "I'm Harold, and this is John. You're in danger, I'm afraid, and we're going to take you somewhere safe."
She gave him a wide look that did not seem comforted, but she followed him quietly to the SUV, let Reese put her inside. Finch sat next to her rather than in the front and concealed his gun in his jacket pocket. Katherine held very still and was completely silent, even when he secured her seatbelt for her. After a moment he noticed a hair lying on her coat sleeve. She was staring out of the window, so he reached out two fingers and plucked it from her sleeve, tucked it into his wallet.
"Are you comfortable?" he asked her, himself slightly uncomfortable.
"I'm…fine."
Reese cast back over his shoulder, "Leave her alone, Harold. She's had a tough morning."
Finch rolled his eyes and settled back in his seat. The rest of the drive was silent.
