AN: Thanks for sticking with me! We're at the penultimate chapter, where our adventure comes to a climax. Hope you enjoy. Last planned update 8/10/16
Chapter 3
"John."
"Carter?"
"I've identified our two kidnappers, the Voloshin brothers, Dimitri and Anton, recently employed by the Yogorovs as lower level enforcers."
"Recently?" Reese's voice echoed in the parking garage as he further inspected the abandoned car he had found there.
"Turns out there's a third brother, Viktor. The three of them were running one of the Yogorov's operations, bungled it bad and Viktor got pinched by the cops. He's currently serving time in Rikers."
"When was this?"
"About 3 months ago."
Reese filed this information away in his brain. He wasn't sure if the Voloshins were working for themselves now, trying to get back into the good graces of the Yogorovs or something else. He wasn't even sure if he really cared. He just wanted Finch back. "Did you get anything off the cameras around the parking garage?"
"Yes, the garage has cameras at the entrances and exits. We caught them driving in with the car Fusco identified from the robbery. Seven minutes later they drive out in a black minivan. We've got the plates. Fusco is here trying to identify where they went with traffic cameras."
"Could you see Finch?"
Reese could hear Carter hesitate over the phone before she spoke, "They had Finch driving the getaway car, John, and I can't be sure, but it looks like he was handcuffed. He was definitely under duress. I couldn't see him when the van pulled out, the windows were tinted."
"I'm with the car now at the garage. His body isn't here, so it's more likely they took him with them. The Voloshins planned this whole charade to get to Finch, Carter, they must want him for something. Hopefully that'll keep him alive until we can find him. How's Lionel doing with those traffic cameras?"
"I'm right here," Fusco's voice came over the phone. "I tracked them as far as I could, I'm texting you the last location, but I can't be sure if that's where they are or if they managed to avoid being seen after that."
His phone beeped, "I'll check it out. You and Carter keep looking into the Voloshins. It might help to know how they found out about Finch in the first place."
Fusco sighed, "It's not going to be easy if we can't even figure out where 'glasses' goes half the time."
"Do your best detective," Reese pocketed his phone and headed out for the next location to search.
(SCENE BREAK)
Things had started slowly, and escalated quickly when Dimitri realized that mind games were not going to work. He had removed Finch's left arm from his jacked sleeve, rolling up his tailored shirt sleeve above his elbow. When Anton produced a knife, Finch decided it might be worth it to be more forthcoming on whatever information these two men wanted. Sadly, their questions continued to be infuriatingly vague, as if he was just supposed to know who and what they were talking about.
Then Anton started cutting. Dimitri was pulling Finch's left arm across the table from the other side of the desk, holding his hand palm down. Anton had him by the elbow with his right hand, and was using his left to press the knife into the flesh of Finch's forearm. Finch couldn't even move as the knife bit into him. It was obvious that Anton enjoyed his work. He made intricate cuts, as if he was forming some sort of grotesque line art. Some were deep and straight, others shallow and curved. Finch tried not to cry out, to be as stoic as Reese would be, but his labored breath and wincing groans betrayed him.
"Please," he begged. "I don't understand! Just tell me what you want, and I'll tell you."
"You know what I want! I want to know why you're meeting with him, what you're telling him, and what you do for him!"
"Him? Which him? I don't understand!" Finch cried out in pain. There were tears running down his face, his broke glasses had fallen off minutes ago. The redness under his left arm was growing with every cut.
Anton stood back up and pointed the knife at Finch's face, "Carl Elias! That's who! For a smart guy, you sure are dumb."
Finch's mind went blank, like it was resetting with this new information. Now that he knew exactly what these guys wanted, his brain worked on formulating an escape plan, "Carl Elias?"
"Yes! You're Harold Crane, you visit Elias out at Rikers all the time to play chess, but we know there's got to be more than that going on. So you're going to tell us exactly what you do for Elias's organization, or Anton is going to start cutting again."
Finch hid is relief. He hadn't forfeited any information, but he knew exactly what his captors were and what they wanted. It would not do any good to deny his involvement with Elias, since they already knew about his visits to the prison somehow. His next decision needed to be how close he could play to the truth without actually give up any information.
"Mr. Elias likes to play chess. I'm part of a group that helps rehabilitate inmates through tabletop game play interaction."
Anton slapped the knife down on the desk and looked Finch straight in the eye. The he reeled back his right fist and slammed into Finch's jaw. He cried out in pain as he fell off the chair into a heap on the floor, his right arm raised above him, still cuffed to the desk. He wasn't sure whether to cradle his left arm to staunch the blood flow, or cup his cheek where the blow landed and he alternated between the two as he blinked the stars out of his vision.
"Try again," Dimitri said. "We already know it's more than that, so lies will just bring you more pain."
Finch took several sobbing breathes to steel himself. Round one had been a failure, hopefully they would buy round two.
"I'm good with computers," Finch whispered. "Sometimes I require Mr. Elias's assistance. In return, Mr. Elias asks for certain information that only I can provide. I search it out, give it to my associate, who in return relays it to Elias's networks on the outside. That's all."
"Who's your associate?"
"His name is John Reese."
"Who does he contact?"
"A gentleman in Mr. Elias's organization, scar on his face, I don't know him personally."
"And how good are you with these computers?"
"Very good."
"Oh, yeah? Well, we'll see."
Dimitri motioned to Anton, and they walked out the nearest door. Finch was left to himself on the floor. Gingerly, he reached for his glasses and set them on the desk. Then he slowly and painfully worked his way back to the desk chair. His right arm was still in his jacket and cuffed to the desk, so he twisted the jacket to the front of his body and did his best to wrap it around his bleeding left arm, hoping to staunch the ever increasing blood loss. He was nauseous and dizzy, but those sensations could also have come from the blow to the head. He wanted to close his eyes and lay down, but that probably wasn't the best idea. All he could do was hope that his story was close be believable.
It felt like he barely had a moment to himself before the two men were back. Dimitri carried a laptop under his arm, which he set up in front of Finch. He looked up, raising an eyebrow in surprise.
"We were just going to use you as a bargaining chip against Elias, but if you're as good as you say you are, you can provide us with some extra support in exchange for your life, instead."
The laptop sprung to life. Finch's fingers itched to touch the keyboard, just the ticket he needed to get himself out of this situation. He played up his reluctance to help the two kidnappers just enough to not raise their suspicions, but he had a feeling these two were novices with computer systems, and hiding his true purposes was going to be a cake walk. His fingers danced slowly over the keyboard as he set to work.
(SCENE BREAK)
Fusco could feel Reese's frustration radiate in waves through the phone. Reese had been out canvasing the area where they video feed had lost the van without success at finding the van or Finch. They had hit the proverbial brick wall, and weren't sure where to turn next. Fusco wasn't sure when it started to happen, but he genuinely felt concern over Reese's mental being and anyone that may cross him while he was in that state. Without any new information, and unable to calm 'wonder boy' down, Fusco handed the phone to Carter in the hope she had better luck.
He could hear Carter try to convince Reese to meet her as he turned to his computer. He thought maybe he could look up other known associates of the Voloshin brothers. Someone out there could know what that low life scum had been planning, and it would do Reese good to have a purpose. He was just pulling up a search window, when his whole computer blinked and started accessing things on its own. An admin window popped up, followed by a string a text, then what looked like the access to Riker's database.
"What the hell?" sighed Fusco. Carter looked over from where she had been talking on the phone.
"I don't believe it, it's Finch! John, he's accessing Fusco's computer."
"Wait! You're serious? I take back everything I said about these guys being good, if they actually gave 'glasses' a laptop," Fusco said as he watched the text scroll on the screen.
"What's happening?" Reese asked over the phone.
"He's mirrored over our database to Rikers. That way he can access the information and it looks like he's changing things without actually affecting anything. He's accessing Viktor Voloshin's file. It looks like they're trying to get him released."
"That's crazy! It's not that simple."
"They don't know that Fusco. Wait, we're getting something else. GPS coordinates! This must be where Finch is. I'll send it to you, John. Do you want us to meet you there?"
"No, head to Rikers in case they take him there to pick up the brother. I can handle it if I catch them first," then the line went silent.
"Glad I'm not them," Fusco muttered as he holstered his weapon. Carter was at her own desk retrieving her things, when she noticed that her computer had also been tampered with. Open on her desktop was every file from laptop Finch was currently using. She took a moment to open and skim. Information on shakedowns that the Voloshin brothers had performed before and after their association with the Yogorovs were all detailed in several easy to read excel sheets. If the robbery and kidnapping in broad daylight wasn't enough, they now had all the information they needed to keep this family of criminals behind bars for a long while.
Nice move Finch, she thought as she and her partner left the station.
(SCENE BREAK)
Four blocks south. That's how far away the GPS coordinates were from Reese's current location. He was just arriving when he saw the dark van pull out and race away. They were so close, he chastised himself for not widening his search parameters sooner. Unsure whether Finch was even in the van, he decided to search the building, just in case someone had been left behind. Recalling his training, he swept silently through the building. He could see light at the end of the next hallway, and voices became louder as he quickened his pace towards it.
He lurked in the shadow of the doorway for a moment, his eyes adjusting to new sources of light. Across the room, Finch was sitting behind a laptop at a desk. Overcoat and Jacket discarded, he looked disheveled, worn and frightened. Reese could make out the bandaged covering Finch's left arm, darkened with bloodstains. He kept lifting his right hand to readjust the glasses on his face that were precariously perched without both ear pieces.
Anton Voloshin towered over the older man, angrily demanding that Finch use the computer once more to adjust some bank transactions. Finch desperately tried to explain that without further equipment, breaching the firewalls of such an institution would be infinitely more complicated and take much more time than Anton was willing to give him to perform such a task. Every second Anton's temper flared further. He lifted his knife and gestured wildly in Finch's direction.
Sensing it was time to end this, Reese lifted his gun to his eye line and hoped that he would be quick enough to overtake the two men with the element of surprise before Anton stuck his knife into Finch. He was jsut about in range to overtake the two men when his presence was discovered. It was Anton, and not Finch, that saw him first, and moving quickly for a man his size, positioned himself behind his captive. Finch was lifted from his seated position, glasses flying, and again he found himself with a beefy arm around his chest. The knife was at his throat.
"I bet I can slice him before you shoot me," Anton growled.
"Don't," Reese warned. He slowly circled around to get the line of sight he was looking for on Anton.
"Then drop your gun, or you can watch him bleed out here on the floor."
Anton pressed the knife into Finch's neck for effect, a thin line of red forming. This was enough for Reese. He aimed and fired. The bullet ripped through Anton's left shoulder, causing his arm and the knife to flail backwards, the knife skittering away across the floor behind them. For good measure, Reese shot again twice, this time through both knees. Anton was left in a bleeding crumpled heap.
Finch had fallen forward. He had tried to brace his fall with his hands, but his left arm gave way underneath him, causing him to fall awkwardly on his hip. He gasped in pain as Reese ran towards him and helped him back up. Reese gave him a quick once over, then retrieved his lost glasses from the floor and the gauze off the desk. He handed Finch a strip of gauze, who pressed it gingerly against the cut on his throat.
"Mr. Reese," he said breathlessly, "So glad to see you."
"And you. Are you ready to get out of here?" he placed his hand under Finch's left elbow and guided him towards the door.
"Very much so."