He could smell spice, coffee and a woman's perfume as if John was actually there. In his mind he was. It was 2002; he was in Sile just north of Istanbul Turkey. They had been here for a week and he was bored. Walking out onto the villa patio that extended out over the cliff, he went to the walled edge and looked out. Taking a deep breath he drew in the smell of the sea. Looking down, he could see the bottom of the cliff a half mile below, his eyes tracked along the green field and over to the small park that was this side of Inceyol Sk, the street that lay between the park and the Black Sea. There were several boats and two ships tied up at the docks and he studied them for a long moment.
His hair was mussed. He was half dressed, white unbuttoned shirt tucked roughly into his belted dress pants, his sleeves were turned up showing tan forearms. He was bare foot. He lifted the coffee cup to his lips and drank the strong brew. He drew in a deep breath and held it for a long moment. It was peaceful here. Here he wanted to stay, for the first time in a long time there was some down time…Down time…why did he need down time…
"John?" it was a soft feminine voice that called to him.
He slowly turned around. His green eyes took in the woman walking out of the Villa.
She was wearing the deep burgundy gown from the night before. Her dark long hair was mussed, framing a beautiful face. She smiled that seductive smile as she walked toward him. As she closed the distance between them the smile faded and the smile went into her dark eyes. Slowly her hand came up from her side where it had been hid in the folds of her gown. She lifted the Glock 17 9MM FS and pointed it directly at him..."Sorry John." She pulled the trigger.
Reese's body jerked. He sucked in a breath and tried to reach for his chest but his hands were bound. Opening his eyes it took him a few moments to focus. He was strapped against a board. He looked to his right and saw the IV going into his arm, there were several machines with blinking lights, he recognized a couple. His right arm was strapped down at the wrist and above the elbow to a small covered straight board; the board was strapped to the extension on the table. He flexed his body and found his torso was strapped down at the waist; his legs were tied at the ankles only. He rolled his head to the left; it was when he realized his head was free. He saw there were three straps holding his left arm: upper arm, elbow and wrist. He raised his head and tried to look around the room, it was dimly lit. There was some kind of glass room down toward his feet; he arched his neck, looking back over his shoulder, more equipment and a wall.
He lay back and remained quiet, the exertion of moving showed that he had been laying prone for a very long time. He wet his lips and closed his eyes. 'Ok , what do you remember?' He kept his eyes closed; he sensed something, movement, the room, the building, what ever it was that he was in, moved.
Footsteps.
He could hear footsteps. There was a change in the air in the room, a door had opened, then he heard the door coming into the room open and he heard the soft tread of the man who belonged to the soft gravely voice. He listened as the man came to his side…He waited.
"Well John I see you've been active…tested our bonds from the looks of it…Right?"
Reese opened his eyes and looked at the man leaning over him. He was tall, built very athletic. Broad muscled shoulders, narrowed waist, his hair was blond and cut military short, Marines he thought from the style. But his eyes were what caught John's attention. They were deep blue and dead. John knew that look. He had seen it for a lot of years when he looked in the mirror.
"John, my name is Dillon." He reached up and injected something into the line that was running into John's arm. "and I am here to de-brief you. The other junk they shot into you is just about out of your system. I am an expert at what I do and in the end you will answer all my questions and tell me everything I want to know."
John gave a sardonic smile. "Give it your best shot." He felt the effects of what ever was being injected into him, a funny buzzing in his ears. It didn't feel like sodium pentothal.
"Oh John, this isn't Pentothal…" Dillon smile, showing even white teeth. "No…No...My man…I wouldn't waste that on you-."
Reese felt a touch of panic. He didn't think he had spoken out loud. He started blocking out Dillon's voice, he set his jaw. 'Don't listen, find a safe spot, fix your eyes on something, the ceiling…yes the ceiling, there is a spot of black on the ceiling.'
"There, take it easy John, a little panic I see…Come now John…don't tune me out…I don't like it when you do that." He reached for another syringe. Lifting it he transferred the liquid into the I.V. bag. "Sorry John guess were going to have to take a little trip." His soft gravelly voice never changed pitch, there was no anger. He knew it did no good. Just like he knew that torture would do no good. This subject had been tortured and still had not given up his knowledge…But there were other ways…dreams…. "All right John lets see what a little dreaming can do for you." He looked over at the read-out that came from the small electrodes that were attached at the base of John's head and neck. He had invented this himself and had found that when the subject went into the induced dream state he could distinguish between the good and bad, and with the right chemical mix…he could open up their mind like a book. "That's it my friend… starting to dream…yes, there you are…pleasant isn't it…Looks like your some place far off…"
John Reese found himself in a dirty alley. He was cold and hungry. He looked down and saw the pint he held in his hand and raised it to his lips, it was a quarter full. He finished it. It didn't burn going down, nothing burned anymore. He didn't feel, didn't care…as long as he had a bottle of booze. Reaching inside the heavy jacket he wore he searched for the other pint. His hands fumbled around in the pockets and came up empty. Empty, that's what he wanted to be. He staggered to his feet and drew a bead on the liquor store across the street from his alley and started toward it…
"I know you can hear me John…"
He spun around in the alley.
"Yes, see the little blips, you can hear me…now let's follow orders John…Follow my voice John…where are you?"
John Reese looked around the dark alley, he was hallucinating; another drink would take care of that problem. He stumbled across the street and opened the door. Walking up to the counter he pulled his hand out of his pocket and threw money on it. He didn't speak; the owner of the place knew what he wanted…didn't speak
With-in his mind a small thought formed. 'It is a matter of life and death, a road either to safety or to ruin. The Art of War…by Sun Tzu…Way of the Warrior...to speak could lead to death.'
John looked at the owner of the liquor store and saw that it was not the man he remembered. It was a man with blond hair and dead blue eyes.
The man smiled "Where are you John?" Dillon opened the drip a little wider. "John, look around and, tell me where you are?"
Opening his eyes he turned toward the voice. He wasn't sure he could do what he wanted to do. His vision was fuzzy. In his dream he leaned in, over the counter, drawing the blond haired man closer to him. He mumbled something, seeing the blond head move down and turn his ear toward his mouth. John didn't have much room but it was survival instinct that took over.
John Reese closed his eyes and reared his head up with as much power as he could muster and slammed his forehead into the ear that loomed in his fuzzy vision. He thought he did some kind of damage because his head hurt. He didn't hear any noise except the beeping sound in the back ground. He opened his eyes and saw a blurry figure standing to his side, holding his head and there was blood.
John closed his eyes, drew a deep breath, went back to the liquor store, taking the bottle of Four Roses off the counter, he walked back to his alley. There, he hunkered down and waited.
POI
Joss Carter moved through the trees like it was second nature to her. She didn't like the little ear bud she wore but she forgot about it as she saw the house and the van come into view. It was near dusk and she surveyed the scene. She moved another hundred feet closer. Everything looked quiet, to-
"Detective Carter…?"
She jumped a little, the anxious voice spoke in her ear.
"Are you-."
"Harold, give a girl a little warning would you." She hissed it back at him. Her voice was a tense whisper.
"Uh…I…What-." Finch stammered. He was stuck at HQ…. He hadn't wanted to, but Detective Carter had been adamant he was not coming with her.
"Clear your throat or something." She smiled and shook her head; she drew a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. "Ok, I have a visual on the van and the house. I don't see any movement or lights."
"Can you give me a visual?"
"Oh yeah…I forgot, the little gizmos you gave me…"
"Gizmos…" His voice went up an octave. "That is a-."
"Do you want me to use the gizmo or not?" She was digging around in the back pack he had sent with her. She saw there were night vision glasses, a hand held Thermograph camera and three different miniature cameras, she grabbed the one he had told her to use first.
Finch stopped and drew a calming breath, his eyes behind the glasses narrowed a little. "Yes Detective Carter…please use the little gizmo." His voice carried a patronizing tone to it. He waited half a beat. "If there is not something to clamp it onto, on the side, next to the on button, there is a knife like attachment you-."
A bleep in the corner showed the camera was on, Finch hit the flashing blip and Detective Carter's face flashed across the screen, there were several jerky movements: her hand, face, the darkening sky and then it was stabbed into a tree.
"Yes I can see the house and van…" He tapped a couple keys and moved the camera to the low light filter. It turned his screen, green. "Detective Carter…I can see one person in the house, the window on the left…second story…use the night vision glasses, they have not turned on any lights yet."
"Ok." Joss pulled the glasses from the pack and slipped it over her head; adjusting the straps she then adjusted the glasses. Her vision turned spooky green. She had only used these kinds of glasses a couple times in the army. "Got him…" The room light came on and she lost him in the flash. She lifted up the glass portion, blinking her eyes to readjust to the darkness.
"Detective Carter, there are surveillance cameras outside." Finch adjusted his glasses. A worried look crossed his face, he had not found them when he had scanned the house with the Satellite, he had not seen any cameras. He had even run a power grid on the house, looking for any anomalies. "Wait…Let me see what I can do." His hands flew over the keyboard.
Detective Carter saw the man in the upper window move out of sight, after a minute or two a light came on downstairs. "Harold, are you still there?"
"Yes Detective…I am here…I am trying to access the surveillance..." his voice sounded stressed. "It is a private company monitoring it and…There…I am in…" Harold looked at the computer screen. A puzzled look touched his face. "Detective Carter…I…" His finger flew over the keyboard. "Well that answers that question."
"What was the question Harold?" Joss saw the figure moved into what she thought was the kitchen and get something, then he went to the other room, looked like a TV was turned on, she assumed he had dropped onto a couch or a chair.
"Sorry Detective…It's not a private company…it redirected the ID, It's the CIA…and all the cameras are off on the outside.
"Well that's strange." She started to move forward. "I'm going to take a peak in a window." She moved forward, moving away from the cover of the trees. She crossed to the house and sided up next to the window.
"Uhmm." The voice in her ear was soft.
She whispered. "Yes Harold?" She glanced into the large living room, seeing one man sprawled out on a couch, watching TV.
"Use the third camera I gave you, the real small one. It has a microphone in it. Set it against the glass and we can hear inside."
She moved back from the edge of the window and reached into the bag, her hand found the small camera and she pulled it out. She looked at it. "Where do you get these things?"
She swore she heard Finch smile.
"John brings them; he has a lot of excellent devices." There was pride in his voice.
She pushed the little button on the top of the camera and carefully pealed a little piece of tape off the camera and pushing the lens against the window she stuck the camera to the sill.
The tv was saying there was going to be a change in the weather and in thirty seconds they were going to talk about the top stories of the day. It went to a commercial for laundry soap. They could hear snoring…the man was asleep.
Joss could hear what Harold could. "Harold I am going to take a look around the house…This doesn't feel right, I don't think John is here." She peaked in all the lower windows and found that the guy sprawled out on the couch looked like the only person in the house. She went over to the Van and looked around it. She pulled the night vision glasses down and looked at the ground. She could see where a four legged cart had been brought up to the side of the van, the cart, now she was thinking gurney, was rolled over to a spot about ten feet away and the tracks disappeared. Looking at the ground she saw deep dual tire tracks…A semi…"Harold, John's not here…I think they loaded him in a semi…there are tracks leading out, back toward the road." Joss turned and headed for the trees, using the night vision glasses to get there safely.
"Where are you going?" Finch could see her in the camera from the tree.
"I'm leaving." She made the tree line, feeling a little safer now.
"Leaving!"
Joss jumped, Harold's voice had gone up several octaves.
"You can't leave; you have to question the man inside the house. He probably knows where they took Mr. Reese." There was a touch of anger in his voice.
She whispered into the night…"I don't have any probable cause to-."
"Probable cause…we need-."
"Harold, I'm a cop…I can't go busting in on someone just because the van is there…Reese isn't there…" She headed back toward where she had parked the car.
Harold stared at the video feed of the inside of the house. Yes, she was a cop; she had rules to follow…
"Harold you have to understand -."
He didn't. "Thank you Detective Carter." He turned the cell phone off.
She stopped and looked into the night. "Damn, this isn't good…"
Harold Finch sat there for a long moment, staring at the screen. He reached up, out of habit and adjusted his glasses. His eyes narrowed. Reaching out he took up his cell phone, punching a number in. "I need your services, yes both of you…" He listened for a moment. "Thirty minutes is fine, I will text you the address where to pick me up." He listened again. "Yes, you might want to come armed…and no I have what I will need. Thank you." Finch stood up stiffly and headed for the back of the library, headed for Mr. Reese's arsenal. "I will not let you down Mr. Reese…" He limped down the corridor, determination crossing his face…"I will find you…"