Chapter 6 – Tracking Wesley

Reese loitered across the street from Don Grifoni's headquarters, his hard and cold eyes on the front door, waiting for his chance. Finally he saw one of Grifoni's men leave the building. Reese and Finch had been keeping an eye on Grifoni's organization for quite some time since their cases frequently intersected with Grifoni's operations, and John recognized the man he was currently following as Augusto 'Auggie' Manetti, the youngest member of Grifoni's inner circle. Manetti was known to be vicious and not particularly bright. John moved swiftly and unseen after the unsuspecting Mafioso, his eyes never leaving his prey.

Manetti strutted down the street like he was the only rooster in the hen house. He worked for a powerful mob boss and he thought no one would dare challenge him. He was about to find out just how wrong he was.

Reese stalked his prey carefully. With his leather motorcycle jacket and jeans he easily blended into the crowd, but if anyone had looked into his steel blue eyes, they would have seen the predatory gleam. He was in operative mode and as deadly as a panther.

The Mafia lieutenant turned down an alley, taking a shortcut to the store where he was going to shakedown a shopkeeper for protection money. Normally a lieutenant of his standing wouldn't take on such a lowly job, but rumor had it that Manetti actually requested the opportunity to get out and "meet the neighbors" as he referred to it. The fact that those meetings often ended in either an ambulance or the coroner's office showing up was lost on no one. Manetti was quite enthusiastic about his work.

John followed, closing the distance rapidly. He entered the alley and saw Manetti about halfway down. The man glanced back over his shoulder and saw John coming after him with a determined look on his face. That was all that Manetti needed to see and he went for his gun. John went for his at the same time and of course as John was faster and better trained, the result was a foregone conclusion. Grifoni's man was down on the ground with a bullet in his leg before he could touch his weapon.

John walked up to the man as he writhed in pain on the ground. John loomed over the wounded man like a lion over it's prey. He smiled pleasantly down at the bleeding man on ground, "Hello, Auggie." He said in a soft, mocking voice, a voice that Lionel was well familiar with.

Manetti glared up at Reese, "Do you know who I am? You're a dead man!"

Reese smiled again, but it came out as more of snarl. While the corners of his mouth turned up, there was still death in his eyes. "I've been dead for a few years now; seems I'm very good at it." The menace in Reese's voice was unmistakable. Manetti was suddenly aware that he was in the presence of a man was no mere bully like himself, this man was walking death, and he shrank from Reese. Manetti had a sickening feeling the unknown man was not going to show him any mercy.

"What do you want?" Manetti asked, his voice betraying some of the panic that was beginning to clutch at his heart..

"About a month ago, a British man by the name of Alistair Wesley came to visit your boss. I want to know what they discussed."

"If I tell you Grifoni's business I'm a dead man."

"If you don't tell me, you're a dead man." The voice was soft, but there was no mistaking the fact that Reese meant every word and Manetti knew it. Reese aimed his gun at the terrified man's remaining good leg.

Manetti threw his arm over his head to protect himself whimpering "No! Please. Wesley wanted to know about the Man in the Suit. He said he had a project he was working on and he didn't want the Suit to fuck it up for him."

"What did Grifoni tell him?" John demanded softly, his gun still aimed at Manetti's good knee

Manetti was unable to take his terrified eyes off John's gun. "We don't know much. Don't know where the guy lives or what his name is. All Grifoni could tell him was that the Suit is sweet on some detective."

John closed his eyes slowly and opened them, his face an unreadable mask. The fact that Joss was special to him was now known to the Mafia and Wesley may not be the last person who would try to use Joss against him. His worst nightmare was coming true.

John gripped his gun harder, his knuckles going white. Grifoni had ratted Joss out to Wesley, despite the fact that she had risked her life to save his skin from Elias. John would settle the score with Grifoni later. On the outside John was still the deadly calm and in control operative, inside his anger was boiling over.

John glared down at the simpering Manetti, "Did Wesley say what his little project was exactly?"

The man shook his head, "No, Grifoni didn't ask."

John smiled the predatory smile down at the terrified man, "You have been very helpful, Auggie. Tell your boss hello for me." And John gave Manetti a condescending pat on the head as he stepped over him and walked away without a single glance back,

John left the alley and walked rapidly towards the storage building by the library that served as a garage for the Ducati and the rest of Finch's small fleet of vehicles. He strode into the building, then his steps faltered and he stopped just inside the doorway. He realized that he had no idea what to do next; he had no more leads to follow until Finch and Caleb finished tracing the movements of Wesley's car. He couldn't go out and run down any leads on his own, since he couldn't risk being seen. He had nothing to do but wait.

He sat down on the floor with his long legs stretched out in front of him and he leaned his head back against the wall. For probably the first time in his life he felt completely powerless. He stared at the Ducati, as it sat there quietly, leaning patiently on it's kickstand with his helmet sitting on the seat, almost mocking him. He knew it was gassed up and ready to go. He and Finch kept all of the vehicles in the fleet ready since they were often needed at a moment's notice, but he had nowhere to go.

He jumped a bit when his phone rang in the deadly quiet garage. He pulled it out of his pocket hoping it was Finch with news, but he saw that it rang because someone had called his other phone and activated the conferencing feature. Only one person would be calling that phone right now. John took a deep calming breath and answered the phone, his heart racing, silently praying that Wesley was not calling because he had somehow discovered the deception.

"Hello, John!" Wesley greeted him, John ground his teeth at the fake cheerfulness, but remained calm, he knew Wesley was doing it to throw him off and he would be damned if he was going to let Wesley win.

"Alistair," John said evenly.

"My operatives report that you have been a very good boy so far, John. I must say that I am surprised, I had expected you to be tearing New York apart by now."

Mentally, John sighed with relief. Wesley had not discovered the deception, this was a fishing call.

"Well, Alistair, you have Detective Carter. You know I won't do anything to endanger her. Isn't that why you took her in the first place?"

"I just didn't expect you to roll over and show your belly, John. You didn't strike me as that kind of man." So that's your game, John thought. You know I wouldn't sit just around and it's driving you nuts that you can't figure out what I'm doing.

John kept his voice soft, letting himself sound defeated and frustrated, "You hold the trump card, just get your little project done and return Carter to me."

"Oh, I fully intend to. Just keep behaving yourself. Cheers." Wesley said coldy and hung up. John breathed a sigh of relief; he must have convinced Wesley that he had the upper hand. The thing that upset John was that Wesley truly did have the upper hand as long as he had Joss captive.

John's heart ached in his chest painfully. He couldn't lose Joss, he couldn't face another loss of someone he cared about. He was supposed to protect her, take care of her, and instead she was in danger because of him. The irony that she was in the clutches of another monster just like him had not escaped John. Internally he kicked himself for being foolish enough to think that a killer like him could actually find redemption and love.

He heard Kara Stanton's voice instead his head, "You're the dark, John. You're not even human anymore. You can't go back, not after everything you've done."

He should have listened to Kara. He should have stayed away from Joss, he shouldn't have touched her with his filthy, blood-soaked hands. He had dragged her into a dark and deadly world that she was unprepared for. She was smart and she was one of the best cops in the city of New York, but she wasn't ready to go up against Alistair Wesley with his MI-6 training and experience. But John, in his arrogance, thought he could protect her from all that and now the universe had issued him a cosmic smack down of epic proportions.

He should have learned his lesson after Rikers, after Donnelly arrested them and almost ruined Joss's life. He had tried to stay away from her after that, to treat her as an asset, not as a friend. He stayed away to give her chance to build a relationship with Detective Beecher while he desperately tried to convince himself that Beecher was good for her. But she had already owned his heart and he was too weak to resist; once Beecher was killed, he couldn't stay away any longer. He had reached out to her and, to his amazement, had discovered that she loved him too.

John stared bleakly at the Ducati again. Like a Thoroughbred stuck at the starting gate, John was clomping at the bit to GO. He wanted to go get his love and hold her tight against him again. He needed her, and today he was finding out just how much.

John pulled his legs up, wrapped his arms around them and rested his forehead on his knees. Joss was the center of his world and not having her in his life would destroy him. He had desperately wanted to show her that she was justified in thinking he was a good man, so he tried to be that man. He thought he forgotten how but as time went on, it gradually became more and more natural to him. She and Finch had showed him a different path and his soul had gradually emerged from the dark, blinking in the light of her smile.

He smiled a bit when he heard Joss's voice inside his head, quite clearly, chewing his ass out the way she always did when he got broody, "Stop it, John! I made my choice like a damned adult. You're a good man!"

John thought back to the previous Sunday afternoon, a rare weekend day off for him and Joss both, that they had spent snuggled on the couch in her apartment. They had been flipping through the list of movies available on demand on Joss's cable system when the movie Nightmare on Elm Street came up on the list. Reese had vehemently rejected it, saying he didn't like watching movies that had violence against kids. Joss had reached up and kissed him, "You're a good man John Reese," she had said.

"No Joss, I'm not a good man, not without you," he said softly.

Caleb stood over Finch, watching as Finch plotted the course of Wesley's car over a street map of New York.

"He changed rental cars every few days, but each car shows the same pattern. See, right there?" Caleb pointed to a spot in the warehouse district. "He has gone there every day since he's been in New York."

"Yes, I see," Finch said. "And he has made numerous visits to this block here." Finch tapped his finger in a spot in a blighted commercial district. "Whatever he is doing in New York must be connected to those places."

Finch looked up at Caleb, grinning like a proud papa, "Good job Caleb. You may have just cracked this case wide open."

Caleb scratched the back of his neck and gave Finch a lop-sided grin in return, "Man, what a rush! I thought nothing could ever compare to selling my program for millions, but compared to saving a life that's minor. You guys really do this all the time?"

"Yes," Finch said. "This project has been eye opening, to say the least."

Finch picked up the untraceable burner phone and called John. "John, we have something. Caleb plotted the data for the past month from the GPS in Wesley's cars and there are two places he consistently visited. One is a warehouse, the other is on a block in a commercial district that has seen better days."

"Sounds like a couple of perfect places to hold a hostage and conduct other criminal business," John growled. "Send me the addresses."

"We don't have an exact address for the location in the commercial district; we just know the block where he consistently parked."

John grimaced in frustration, "Send me the information you have. Call Fusco and have him meet me at the warehouse. I'll start there."

John leaped up and strode to the Ducati with grim determination. It was time to go get his Joss back.