Authors Note: Thanks for the kind reviews, keep them coming! And special shout out to McMoni for the motivation. She's got a new story coming soon that you should check out.

Chapter 3

Harold disliked the tone of his friend's voice. He was just leaving the care home, Karola had just finished the early shift and he was following her home where she was presumably going first before picking the children up from school. "I'm about to get on the subway, why?" He said, unable to keep his distaste at the mode of transport out of his voice.

"Finch," John said desperately, "The Machine just gave me your number."

Harold stopped his limping gait, just before he was about to go underground. He turned around and scanned the crowd frantically. "I don't see anyone. John, I'm losing our number."

"Don't go into the subway, we'll lose the connection." John commanded. "You need to find somewhere crowded."

"John, we need to follow the number. She's surely on the train now."

"I'll call Shaw, get her to pick up the trail. Right now you need to worry about yourself. I'm on the bike, I'll be there as soon as I can be, stay on the line."

The earpiece beeped as John tried to get Shaw on the line. After the third beep, her voice came on, surprisingly chipper, "What's up boys?" She had her mouth full. Despite the urgency of the situation, Harold still hoped that she wasn't sat at the computer while she ate. Feeling at a loss, he started walking, trying to follow John's advice and find somewhere populated but the area was mostly residential and everyone was at work. He could go back into the care home, but he dismissed that immediately. If whomever was targeting him didn't care about the casualty count, then he wasn't prepared to put them at risk.

"Shaw," John started. "I'm gonna send you an address. Need you to get down there asap. Our number…"

"Olivia Karola?" Sameen interrupted. "Yep, I'm looking at her. You think it's the boyfriend? Guys, why are you working a number without me? You know Bear and I don't like it when we get left out." The was a bark in the background as Bear vocalised his agreement.

"Shaw, focus." John growled, "Harold's number came up. I need you to get to the Karola/McKay address now."

"Shit! Okay. I'm on my way now. You sure you don't need me to get Finch instead?"

"I'm fine Sameen." Harold rolled his eyes at the overprotectiveness of his operatives, while at the same time acknowledging that it was kind of endearing. "We don't even know the threat is immediate."

"Dunno Harold, The Machine seemed pretty insistent. But Sameen, I've got Harold. I had a chat with McKay, I've been in and taken his weapon. Hoping that's enough to give him a change of heart."

"Guys, I'm gonna call you when I get there. Reese take care of our boy, okay?" Sameen cut the line, leaving just Harold and John again.

Harold was still walking away from the subway, when he noticed a male in dark jeans and a black coat following him at a distance. "John? There's someone following me." Harold quickly stepped into the road and flagged down a passing cab, almost getting run over in the process. He climbed into the back and slid down in the seat. "Er hello." He said, still managing his usual politeness. "I'd like to go downtown. The 8th police precinct please. Erm, can we just drive around a bit first?"

"Good job Harold." John sounded like he was smiling. "We'll make a spy of you yet. I'm tracing your route on the bike. I won't be far behind."

"I can't see how that's surprising, considering I've been learning from the best."

"Harold, what's your location?" John asked after a few minutes of silence.

"Jefferson Park, just getting on the FDR South."

"Okay. I'm catching you up."

Harold glanced behind him and noticed a dark SUV coming up behind them. "John, I… Could we come off here please." Harold asked the driver nervously. They started coming off the slip, turning off on the East 96th back into the city. Harold glanced behind him again to check on the progress of the SUV, and was that a motorbike advancing on them too? He watched the rider of the motorbike, sure it was John, as he drew a weapon and shoot out the tyre, sending the vehicle careening. Harold watched, horrified as the vehicle swerved in front of the motorbike, cutting the rider up. He was so busy worrying about John that he didn't notice as a second SUV approached them in oncoming traffic and swerved across into their lane, smashing into the taxi cab.

"John, I…" Harold sounded nervous. John rounded the corner and followed him onto the FDR and down the underpass. He could see the cab and an SUV following it. The driver of the SUV was no longer being subtle about being a tail. In fact, it was gaining on Harold's taxi, accelerating fast. This was it, John realised, they were going to try to ram him off the road. There was no way he could take on the SUV on his bike, his only hope was to take the tyres out. He pulled his handgun from his waistband. It was tricky to drive the bike and shoot, right handed – his less dominant hand, while cutting through the traffic. He fired off a couple of shots, the first one hit the rear bumper but the second one hit its mark. The bullet blew out the rear tyre. The SUV swerved, cutting across John's path and almost crashing into another vehicle as the driver struggled to get it under control. John tugged the bike to the side to avoid a collision, hitting the brakes a little too hard so that the bike's back wheel came up. The heavy Ducati pivoted on its front wheel but the side tug that John had given it caused it to unbalance and tip. It was almost like slow motion as John realised with horror he'd reacted badly and that the ground was coming up to meet him.

He slammed into the ground hard, with his left shoulder the point of impact. His crash helmet was next, and he heard it crack as it bounced on the tarmac. The bike had come down on top of him, trapping his leg beneath it. Dazed, grey dots danced in front of his vision as he struggled to gain control of his body. The adrenaline was stopping it from hurting too much, but he knew as soon as he moved he would be in agony. He had to move, he realised, Harold could still be in danger.

He tried to push himself up, and just as he expected, pain flared all down his left side, leaving him gasping. He could tell his shoulder was dislocated, it wouldn't be the first time, and after a pathetic kick at the bike he realised he wouldn't be able to get it off his leg without help. He glanced over at the SUV, looking for a continued threat. It had careened into the side wall of the underpass, and so far no one was moving but he knew better than to believe he'd completed his objective. His weapon had gone skittering across the floor when he'd been thrown from his bike, but he still had McKay's revolver on him and he drew it now.

"Harold?" He asked. The phone connection still open but silent. "Harold?" He felt panic rise, he'd gotten away hadn't he? Or had there been another car? His earpiece chirped in his ear and he tapped it, thinking he was an idiot and that the connection must have cut out after all. "Harold? Are you okay?" He asked frantically.

But it wasn't the eccentric billionaire after all. "Reese, it's me." Sameen's voice sounded grim, instantly sensing the need. "What's wrong? I'm coming to get you."

"No." John groaned, "You need to stay on our number. I've got this." His attention was drawn to movement within the crashed SUV. He readied his aim.

"It's too late." Sameen said sadly, or at least with the best approximation of sadness that the sociopath could offer. "I just got here, the cops are already here. McKay killed himself."

John's heart sank, he'd been sure he'd managed to get through to the man, but it appeared not. He wondered briefly if he'd made any difference to him at all, or had he made it worse? But there was no time to think of these things, the front passenger door of the SUV was opening and a man staggered out. John aimed his weapon and fired, centre mass, now was not the time for kneecapping, and the man crumpled to the ground.

"Shaw, I can't get hold of Finch." He told her. "I took out a tail, but I've lost him."

"Sounds like they're trying to take you out." Sameen said. "I'm tracking your phone, I'm on my way."

Through the open door of the vehicle he could hear them yelling at each other in Spanish and the sounds of weapons being primed. In the distance, sirens sounded as the NYPD responded to the crash and the shots. John had to hope that he could keep the men at bay until help arrived. With his vision and hearing obscured by the crash helmet, and his concentration on the men in the SUV, he didn't notice that another man was approaching him until he tugged the collar of his jacket down and stabbed a needle into his neck. John shifted to take on his new attacker, but the sudden movement made his head spin and then his vision blacked out.

Sameen had driven like a woman possessed to get to the Karola house, cutting her new black Mazda XR8 through traffic, not necessarily because of her desire to help the woman, but also to give her shiny little toy a proper test drive. But as she'd approached she'd had to slow down to avoid attracting attention as she was overtaken by a cop car with lights and sirens on. She'd pulled up just in time to see them race up to the fourth floor. She'd slipped in after them and caught a glimpse of their number, distraught at the doorway. She was crying on a female cop's shoulder and saying "he's in the bedroom." EMT's weren't far behind but when they arrived the cop exchanged a look and shook her head. All the urgency drained out of them. Whatever had happened, it was over.

Sameen was tempted to hang around but there was nowhere to do that without being obvious, so she walked slowly down the corridor, hands in her coat pockets in an attempt to look like she was just on her way to her own apartment. She snuck a quick glance through the door as she passed and could see down the hall through to the bedroom. John had said that he'd taken a firearm away, but McKay had clearly been determined. He'd made a noose from a tie and managed to hang himself from his bedframe. The male officer had undone the noose and was attempting CPR, but Sameen knew that the odds of reviving him were slim. She passed through the corridor and down towards the other stairwell. She had to get out of there before everyone else arrived. As she got into the stairwell she called John. Their conversation had her taking the stairs three at a time.