Head notes: Sorry it took so long. I was finishing it up when my laptop crashed and I had to retype it. There's not much action in this chapter. It pretty much just more figuring things out.

Chapter four

John stood behind Finch as he put Simmons' picture on the glass wall.

"Okay, Finch, so Simmons' number came up. Does that mean that someone wants to kill him?" John asked. "After all, maybe your Machine is getting smart and identifying him as a threat."

"In all our dealings with HR, Mr. Reese, the Machine has always given us the number of the intended victim," Finch said.

"Even so, why do we want to save him, Finch?" John asked. "He's been a thorn in our side for quite a while. We could just let whoever wants to kill him take care of him and we wouldn't have to deal with him anymore."

"Because I have figured out who wants to kill him," Finch said. "It seems that Quinn is questioning his trusted lieutenant's loyalty. We've already seen him murder his friend's son. He would kill anyone to protect himself."

"That doesn't explain why we would want to save Simmons," John replied. "Why not just let the trash take care of itself?"

"I understand how tempting it is to leave Simmons to his fate, Mr. Reese," Finch began. "But I was thinking that if we offered our services to Officer Simmons, we might be in a position to ask him for a little something in return."

John looked over at Harold, who raised his eyebrows in a way that spoke as loudly as if he had said it out loud. He nodded, understanding what Harold wanted him to do, and left the library.

XxXxXx

Simmons was walking back to his car in a dark parking garage. He had contacted some close friends in the gang world and asked them to take care of the meddling detective. He was on his way to report to his boss that everything was set in motion. He opened the car door and sat down. He was about to turn the key when he heard a distinct click echo in his ear and reach every corner of the car.

"Hello, Patrick," a soft voice said.

He froze and looked in his mirror. He didn't recognize the man in the back seat. But given the suit he was wearing, he was willing to bet he had come face-to-face with the guy in the suit.

"How did you find me?" he asked arrogantly.

"That's not important. What is important is that I found you before your boss's hired guns did," the guy said.

"What are you talking about? You're the one holding a gun to my head," Simmons said sarcastically.

"Your boss killed his best friend's son in cold blood, Patrick," the guy said softly. "What makes you think he won't do the same to you if it even crosses his mind that you might want to jump ship. And according to my intel, it looks like he does. What would he do to you, I wonder? Would he set you up like everyone else? Or would he just take care of you himself? Now normally, I'd be inclined to sit back and watch the show, but that wouldn't be very useful to me now, would it? I can protect you, but I want something in return."

"Would that something be Carter?" Simmons ventured.

"That's right," the guy whispered. "You help me save Detective Carter and bring down the rest of your organization, and I will protect you from Quinn." Simmons looked back at him. The guy in the suit knew who his boss was.

"You expect me to turn my boss over to you when you know perfectly well it will get me killed?" Simmons shot back, hoping to cover his surprise.

"At least I'll be inclined to protect you," the guy said. "Besides, your boss already wants you dead."

"And if I don't?" Simmons said defiantly. He felt the gun bury itself deeper into the back of his head.

"I'll save Quinn the trouble," the guy simply said. "Kill you myself."

Simmons weighed his options. The last thing he wanted was to go with the guy in the suit. For one thing, the guy had been a thorn in his side for far too long. Every encounter had made him hate the guy that much more. Especially that time he had the guy cornered in that parking garage. The other thing, the thing that kept his attention, was Quinn. He had personally seen the ruthless things he was capable of doing to people who got in his way or betrayed him. If Quinn found out that he had sold him out, he was a dead man. But according to this guy, Quinn already wanted him dead. Even if he was lying, he had a gun to his head, so he'd die anyway. But if he went with the guy in the suit, he would have a more of a chance of survival with the guy offering him protection. Why am I even listening to this guy? Simmons thought to himself. Betraying my friends and my boss just because some Special Forces wacko says so? Even as he thought this, he heard his own voice utter an agreement.

"That's the spirit," the guy said clapping him on the shoulder. Simmons shook his head in irritation. One offer accepted, and the guy owned him for life. He was already regretting it.

XxXxXx

Carter sat at her desk, feverishly going over Cal's case file. She didn't care if she wasn't supposed to be involved in the official investigation. It wasn't going to stop her from finding the truth. Right now, that meant looking for anything that would point to Quinn. But as the head of HR, he was careful not leave any strings that would lead back to him. Even if she could figure out how he did it, it would be difficult to prove. And that's really what law enforcement came down to: if you could prove what happened. And it frustrated her to no end that what she found she may not be able to prove in court.

That was when she heard someone walk past her desk and looked up to see Terney walking into his office, holding his bleeding nose.

"Terney!" she yelled. "Are you okay?" she asked, getting him a tissue.

"Some guy attacked me," He said, putting the tissue against his nose. "Tried to rob me up until they realized I was a cop."

"What did he look like?" Carter asked.

"I couldn't see his face; it was too dark. But his eyes scared me to death," Terney said.

Fusco looked up at Terney suspiciously. He had been attacked not long after Wonder Boy called to tell him that Carter was stirring things up again. Attacked by a guy that had scared the crap out of him. He only knew of one guy who could do something like that. He wasn't sure, and he was painfully aware of how wrong he had been about Beecher, but it was enough to make him want to watch Terney very carefully. He quickly pulled out his phone and used it to clone Terney's. Then he quickly went back to what he was doing.

"Well, take care, Terney," Carter said, going back to her desk to look over Cal's case file again.

It was then that she remembered something about Quinn. He had been there when Szymanski and the assistant DA were murdered. Both of them had been shot twice in the chest, but he had got off with one non-fatal gunshot wound to the shoulder, the one surviving witness of the masked gunman's rampage. At the time she had been so focused on Beecher that she had missed the one clue that had been staring her in the face. Oh, how could I be so stupid? she thought to herself. She couldn't believe that she had missed something so obvious. No one would be dumb enough to leave a witness alive. Unless that witness was the real killer.

"You okay, Carter?" Fusco asked, noticing the realization dawning on his partner's face.

"We need to talk," she answered, getting up and walking into an empty office.

"What's going on?" Fusco asked, making sure to close the door behind him.

"It's Quinn," she said. "You and I both know he was involved with Beecher's murder. I'm starting to think he had something to do with Szymanski's as well. He may have even killed him himself."

"Are you sure, Carter?" he asked.

"He was the only witness who lived to witness Szymanski's murder. And let's be honest, who would be dumb enough to leave someone who could testify?" she said.

"But what about his shoulder?" Fusco asked. "That wasn't a self-inflicted wound, Carter."

"Then someone was with him," she said.

"Someone who helped him cover up Szymanski's murder," Fusco added.

"We find that person, we will be that much closer to bringing Cal's murderer to justice."

It was at that moment that Carter's phone began to ring.

"Hello, detective," John said.

"John, Fusco and I have some new information," she said.

"That's great, detective, 'cause I have some too." John replied. "Could you and Fusco meet me in a little while?"

"Sure, John," Carter said, then looked up at Fusco. "We need to go," she said.

XxXxXx

An hour later, Carter and Fusco arrived at the restaurant John had arranged for them to meet at. It was a little odd seeing someone sitting on the opposite side of the table, but that wasn't the only surprising thing that caught their eyes. It was who was sitting on the opposite side of the table. Both detectives' mouths fell open, and they stopped in their tracks as an arrogant Simmons turned to look at them.

"Hello, detectives," John said pleasantly. "Please join me."

The detectives looked at each other before they both sat down. Carter sat down next to John, which left Fusco the seat next to Simmons.

"So what's this scumbag doin' here?" he asked, indicating Simmons.

"I convinced him to help us," John said simply.

"Really?" Fusco wondered, an amused smirk growing on his face.

"Something funny, Lionel?" Simmons threatened.

"Oh yeah," Fusco smiled. "Ever since you started giving me a hard time I have been looking forward to your getting what you deserve. Of course, at the time I was thinking jail time might do. This is even better."

"Now, Patrick here has names of everyone HR has recruited since Donnelly's raid," John stated. "I want you two to take care of them."

"Don't think that I'm going to just give you names," Simmons said, trying to maintain some level of defiance. "You're going to have to work for it."

"Since when do you get to negotiate?" John asked, his voice getting softer.

"Since I'm the only one who can help you," Simmons said.

"Really?" John responded as everyone heard a click underneath the table. "I've been able to get along just fine without you, Patrick. What makes you think now is any different?"

"John!" Carter shouted, shocked at the lengths John was willing to go.

"Don't stop him, Carter," Fusco said, his face growing more amused. "It was just getting good."

"All right, fine," Simmons said. "I'll give you the names."

Satisfied, John put his gun back in his pocket and turned to Carter.

"When I called, you said you had some new information," he said.

"Fusco and I think that Quinn killed Szymanski. But someone was with him and helped him cover it up. If we find that person, we'll be that much closer to bringing Quinn down."

John turned back to Simmons. Carter's statement had hit a nerve.

"She's right, isn't she?" he whispered. "Quinn killed Szymanski, didn't he?"

Simmons didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. John knew that Carter was right.

"Who helped him cover it up?" he asked, taking out the gun again and pointing it at him under the table.

"I wouldn't know," Simmons answered, hate emanating from his eyes. "Only my boss would know that."

"Then, Patrick," John began. "I have a job for you."

Simmons eyes narrowed, confused, and Fusco's smirk grew even bigger.

End Notes: I hope you liked this.