A/N. Get ready for some action!
This part hasn't been beta'd for English, so please forgive me for any mistake. If something doesn't make sense, let me know and I'll correct.
London, Thursday 5:00 pm local time (noon in New York)
John went back inside the building, ready for action.
He removed his jacked that was bound to bother him in the action, opened his bag and chose his weapons carefully. His Sig Sauer with the silencer, extra chargers, two smoke grenades he slipped in his pants pockets. If he needed time, he could use them to hide Sara from her captors. He stowed the knife in his belt and put his gloves on to avoid leaving prints.
Casting one last glance down to confirm the men's positions, he focused on the operation.
He went down the catwalk silently toward the stairs. He stopped one last time, before going down.
He slipped between the boxes and reached the first man in seconds. He never saw John coming behind him. A secure arm around his neck, a brief movement and the man went down silently, his neck broken.
He hid the body behind some crates and searched him. No communication device. He only had a satellite phone, maybe to get in touch with Keller. John took it.
He then went to the room they used as resting place. He opened the door silently but was surprised by the big Russian who was coming out. He pushed the man back inside to close the door and mute the noise.
The man had moved fast, pulling out a knife. The fight started. A swift move had the knife cut John's upper arm, nothing too deep thankfully. He managed to disarm him and the fight went on, fists punching bodies. After a punch stronger than the previous, the Russian had the upper hand and had now his hands around John's neck, trying to strangle him. The hands were slowly choking him.
John pretended to pass out by releasing his muscles and his opponent relaxed the pressure for a second. Reacting swiftly, John punched his elbow strongly against the ribs behind him, drawing a big breath at the same time. His adversary grunted, surprised by the blow. Reese got his own knife out and before the man could move, he drove the knife to his midsection, turning the blade for maximum damage. The man crumbled on the ground.
John knelt for a second getting his breath back, and retrieved his knife from the body. Two down, two more to go.
He was angry against himself. The noise of the fight had probably alerted the two other accomplices. He had just lost his only advantage, surprise.
During the fight, he had been totally focused on his opponent, ignoring the surroundings. As his brain took notice of the outside world, he was overwhelmed by the noise coming from the jackhammers outside. He felt hopeful. If they had been that loud during the whole fight, maybe nobody had heard them.
He slowly opened the door, going back to the main room. The boxes allowed him to get quite close to the two men, still focused on their card game. He was close enough to hear them breathe.
The hiding part was over. He would need to come forward to get those last two. He was close, yet a wall reduced his angle. He only could shoot one of them from his position.
His decision was promptly made. He acted quickly, getting out of hiding and shooting the two men without hesitation.
As John was going towards Sara, he was suddenly shoved against the glass wall. He lost his gun, surprised by the unexpected attack and slightly stunned by the impact.
He had barely turned when the man, coming out of nowhere, started punching him. A second fist fight started. Something in the way the man moved, led John to think this fight was going to be harder. The man was taller and seemed to be in perfect shape. As for himself he had already been through a first strenuous fight.
Instinctively, John put himself between the man and Sara. The punches landed with strength and precision. Reese was losing ground. The man had the same training he had, but he was stronger, and younger.
Suddenly, the man managed to lift him off the ground and threw him against the glass wall a second time.
The wall exploded with the impact, and after going right through it, John landed heavily on the ground. He could feel shards embed in his back. His opponent didn't lose any time and started kicking him strongly. John did his best to protect his ribs. Giving up on the kicks, the man bent, hands opened toward his neck.
John tried to find a way out. Think. He found a piece of glass, bigger than the others, under his hand. As soon as the man got close enough, his hand moved, driving the piece of glass in the man's neck.
His adversary yelled, getting up and instinctively pulling the glass out. But John's aim had been perfect. The jugular had been sliced open; nothing could stop the blood flow. In a few seconds, the man crumbled to the ground, agonizing.
John got up slowly. He felt like he had gone through a lawn mower. His back hurt like hell. But his mission wasn't over. Gathering what little strength he had, he went to the woman he had come for.
Inside the room, Sara was tense. She had witnessed the fight and was probably wondering if the stranger who had just taken down five men single handedly wasn't after all more dangerous than her holders.
John took his knife to cut the ties holding Sara to her chair, then released the gag. Sara immediately rubbed her wrists and winced. The zip ties had cut through the flesh.
"Who are you?" she asked her mysterious rescuer.
"Neal's… friend," Reese answered, hesitating on the word. Friend was probably stretching it, but he needed to soothe the young woman.
Sara watched him closely, her eyes going over the tall frame. That man didn't have much in common with Neal's usual contacts. He was dangerous, a killer obviously, exactly the opposite of Neal who hated any kind of violence.
"He's changed a lot in a few days," she whispered.
"I'll explain everything to you later. We need to leave now. A plane is waiting for us to go back to New York
"New York?" Sara exclaimed. "But…"
She lived in London now. Why did that man want to take her back to New York? She rose suddenly to step away. What if he wasn't there to save her? But the long hours spent tied up on a chair made her legs shiver and she stumbled. Reese immediately reached for her elbow.
"Easy… "
For a second, he thought she was going to pass out, then clearly reaching deep inside herself, she straightened. John gave her an admiring stare. Caffrey sure hadn't lied when he had said she was a fighter.
"Miss Ellis, my name is John. A man named Keller has organized your kidnapping to blackmail your friend Neal…"
"Keller?" Sara repeated. "I thought he was in jail."
"Apparently he is as good as your friend at getting out of them." He let go of the arm. "Can you walk or should I carry you?"
Sara took a step backward and shot him a hard stare.
"Mr.… John, I can take care of myself."
"Never doubted that. I've seen the faces of your captors… Let's go then."
Before they left the factory, John searched the four men he had just killed. He took the phones, then went up to the catwalk to get his stuff and get his jacket back on. Then they left the warehouse through the front door, after disabling the cameras.
Dirk was waiting for them, engine running.
On their way to the airport, John called Finch on their secure line.
"Finch, Miss Ellis is safe."
"Thank God," Finch whispered.
"We're going back to New York immediately. Let Caffrey know."
PoI – WC – PoI – WC – PoI
New York, FBI office, Thursday 1:00 pm (6:00 pm in London)
Neal was doing his best to concentrate on the file in front of him. He didn't remember how many cups of bad coffee he had already drunk to stay awake.
He could feel Diana's look on him since his arrival, and Jones' as soon as she had to leave the room. Apparently his excuse for being late hadn't convinced Diana who seemed to think he was up to something. Feeling Calloway breathing down his neck was hard enough, now the two other agents were watching him too.
He read the document once more; the words still didn't make sense. He couldn't help it, his mind kept drifting back to Sara, tied to a chair, John dressed in black, face hard, promising he would bring her back. London had never seemed so far away, and minutes had never been so long.
The phone John had given him buzzed on his desk. He jumped in apprehension. He picked it up with a shaky hand and had to press the button twice before he managed to accept the call.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Caffrey, this is Harold Finch. I just talked to Mr. Reese. Miss Ellis is safe."
Neal felt all his blood leave his body; if he hadn't been sitting he would have probably fallen down. "Thank God."
"Unfortunately I do not have much information for now. Mr. Reese called me on their way to the airport. I'm hoping to have more news once they're in the air. I will keep you informed."
"Thank you, Finch. Thank you," Neal repeated overwhelmed with relief.
Finch ended the call without a word, but Neal didn't care. He put the phone down and saw Diana squinting at him. He gave her a small smile and went to the bathroom.
He washed his face and looked at his reflection. He looked awful; no wonder Diana kept watching him.
Sara was safe, alive. He'd never be able to thank John enough.
As for Keller…
His face got darker. He had shot Keller once. The hardest part had come from the terrible headache, after he had been knocked out by a Raphael painting. After all that time, he still didn't know if the pain was more intellectual than physical. Although the bruises on his face testified to the strength of the impact.
He could do it again…
The last time he had pointed a gun at someone, Peter had stopped him. This time, he wouldn't be around; he doubted John would prevent him from shooting.
That morning, when he had left the loft, he had searched for his bodyguard. It took some time. She was just as good as John. But he was good too, and he had finally spotted her. He needed a gun; he was pretty sure Shaw could get him one.
He had made his decision. He wouldn't allow Keller to turn his life into a nightmare again.
He dried his face and went back to his desk, calmer now; he knew what was coming next.
A mail had arrived on his personal mailbox. It was concise.
"10:00 PM, UNDER THE QUEENSBORO BRIDGE. COME ALONE."
John would barely be back…
Mozzie had taken care of the treasure, but they actually didn't need to load the truck. He would drive it to the meeting point. He had an advantage; Keller would never suspect he had a weapon.
A cold resolution had settled on his body. He wondered for a moment if John felt that same calm when he operated. Except the man seemed to be in that frame of mind all the time.
He gave the time and place of the meeting to Finch, then turned back to his file. Now that Sara was safe, maybe he could concentrate enough to find the evidence in the file he was studying.
PoI – WC – PoI – WC – PoI
London, Thursday 6:00 pm local time (1:00 pm in New York)
As agreed, the plane was ready to leave the moment they got to the airport. Thirty minutes later they were in the air.
Reese unfastened his seat belt and went to the back of the plane. Sara tried to unfasten her own belt and realized she was shivering. She clenched her teeth, trying to open the buckle with two hands with no success. She fought against the tears. Now that the danger was gone, the adrenaline had washed away and fear was filling all her body.
Seeing the young woman shaking, John knelt by her side, unfastened her seat belt and put a gentle hand to her shoulder. With a whimper, she threw herself against him, wrapping her arm against his back, holding him in a tight hold. Wincing at the sudden pain when she touched his wounded back, Reese put a comfort arm around her shoulders, letting the red head cry over his jacket, clumsily patting her back.
A few minutes later, she pushed away and rubbed her eyes to clear the tears.
"Sorry," she apologized.
Reese raised an eyebrow. Her reaction was quite normal, seeing her break down now didn't come as a surprise. This young woman was indeed surprising; he could understand why Caffrey loved her. He went to the back of the plane to get the first aid kit, then sat by her side.
"Let me take care of those wrists."
He disinfected the wounds carefully, admiring her strength once more, as she only let out some moans although he knew he was hurting her. He cleaned her face next. Some blows had already changed color; the split lip was still sensitive but didn't require any particular treatment.
"I must look awful…"
Reese smiled, glad she was feeling better, enough to consider her appearance.
"You are beautiful, Miss Ellis. Neal is a very lucky man."
He threw away the stained compresses used on Sara and went to the back of the plane to take care of his own wounds.
He removed his jacket and checked his arm. The knife had been as sharp as a razor blade. It had cut through the t-shirt like butter. But the wound was neat, a simple cut, not very deep. He disinfected it and put a bandage to stop the bleeding. He checked his neck on the small mirror. That had been a close one… He winced when he touched the sensitive area. On second thought he had been lucky. Keller's hit men were killers; only his long experience had saved him this time.
On the other hand, his back was hurting like hell. It felt like hundreds of needles were pinching him. He couldn't ask Miss Ellis to play nurse. She had been through enough trauma. Yet he needed someone to take a look, he hadn't even been able seat back against the armchair for take-off. His back was probably full of glass shards.
Sara was surprised to see John come back, bare-chested. He went to the cockpit. She saw his back and barely held an exclamation, his whole back was bloody. The glass wall, she realized.
Dirk jumped in surprise when he saw John entering the cabin. His passenger had a bandage on his arm and several bruises on his chest.
"John?" he said startled.
"Dirk, I'm going to need your services again. Did you get any chance to practice your first aid skills since you left the army?"
The pilot raised a surprised eyebrow and John turned slightly, pointing to his back. Dirk couldn't help a sympathetic wince. He pushed a button on his dashboard and rose to his feet.
"Bill, you have the conn. Don't you dare try any looping," he added with a mock menacing stare.
Bill had a small smile and John guessed he had just witnessed a private joke.
"Loopings?" he couldn't help asking Dirk as they left the cabin.
"It's part of the standard procedure to test new planes… usually without any passenger on board. It allows to test the resistance of the machine."
"You're a test pilot?"
"No. I only make test flights for potential buyers." He smiled with a thoughtful glance. "Mr. Wren had quite… specific requests."
John wasn't really surprised, but he wondered what Finch had asked for. The two men went to the back of the main cabin, Sara watching John with a worried face.
John turned one of the seats to give Dirk access to his back. After observing it carefully, the pilot went to get a cup, then got tweezers and gauze from the first aid kit.
"Ready?" he asked before starting the painful process.
John nodded.
Industriously, piece by piece, Dirk removed the glass shards embedded in the back. Some were small and superficial, others were bigger needing him to push the tweezers deeper to get them. He applied pressure on every wound to stop the bleeding as he went. John didn't flinch, but Dirk could hear him inhale sharply sometimes when the pain got more pronounced. He tried to lighten the situation.
"You do know you're supposed to open windows before actually going through them…"
"I'll remember to tell that to the next person who throws me against a glass wall."
"I guess it could have been worse," Dirk commented.
John turned his head to watch him, a skeptical look on his face.
"From what I can see, it is obvious the glass exploded when you went through it. There is no really big gash. I believe most of these pieces got in when you fell on them.
"That's one way of seeing it," John replied.
Dirk pointed to a bruise. "Nice boot mark."
John watched his ribs a bit more closely. The kicks to his chest were starting to change color. He had been lucky, no broken ribs or internal bleeding.
"How many were they?"
"Five eventually. One of them appeared out of thin air. I was only expected four men."
Dirk remained silent. Seeing the marks on the body of his passenger, he could tell the fight had been vicious. He should have insisted to help him. He didn't know what this was about, but it did look like a hostage liberation. He had seen the bandages on the woman's wrists.
"How's the lady doing?" he asked in a low voice.
"Surprising well considering what she's been through."
Dirk examined the back carefully. "I think I got them all. You should get it checked out in a couple of days though."
He sprayed the antiseptic liberally on the wounds. John hissed straightening up, it felt like his whole back had suddenly burst into flames.
"Sorry," Dirk apologized. He wiped the excess liquid, satisfied most cuts were not bleeding anymore.
"Thank you, Dirk."
"You're welcome."
He got up, stored the kit, throwing the cup and stained gauze in the trash can; then went back to the flight cabin shaking his head slowly, amazed. He couldn't believe the level of pain tolerance of his passenger. He was a former military, and as such had been through some rough patches, but this was way beyond anything he could fathom.
After putting on a new t-shirt, John came back and picked up the phone to contact Harold.
"Finch, could you try to reach Neal? I'm sure Miss Ellis would be happy to talk to him."
A few seconds later, a new voice joined the conversation. He smiled and handed the phone to Sara.
"Neal?" she said in a strangled voice.
"Sara?"
Reese rose from his seat and went to the pilot's cabin, giving his passenger some privacy. He hoped Finch would do the same. After checking with the pilots their estimated time of arrival, he went back to the main cabin.
"Neal, I'll talk to you later. Can't wait to see you," she smiled. "I love you too… Bye."
She raised her eyes to Reese and handed him the phone back.
"Thank you," she said in a low voice.
John took the phone back. "Finch, what's our status?"
"We have clearly established, with solid evidence, the whole corruption chain in which the Senator was involved since his years in the Police. He actually never stopped. If the file we put together with Mr. Mozzie was to get in the wrong hands, there would be dozens of senators, several policemen and business men facing a delicate situation. Certainly quite a few contracts for Miss Morgan," Finch added.
John couldn't help a smile thinking of the fixer.
"As usual, her assistance has been most helpful," Finch said. "She has found elements that should allow the Defense to undermine agent Calloway's testimony. We have uncovered money transfers from one of the Senator's accounts to Ms Calloway's. Quite large amounts, most especially a money transfer during a confirmed visit to Atlanta by the Senator, where agent Calloway was in office at that time. Miss Morgan did some digging and found out an incident in a night club that was hushed by the local media. Apparently, the Senator went too far with a female employee."
"Another man who thinks he is above everything," John commented.
"We can prove Senator Pratt and agent Calloway knew each other, that she got bribes from him, at the very least one to cover him up. This being said, why wouldn't she purposefully twist the facts of the case to charge agent Burke with the Senator's murder?"
"Any chance the employee could come forward?" John asked.
"No. She moved to Australia," Finch answered. "One more thing, Mr. Reese. Also thanks to Miss Morgan, we will be able to give the Defence some elements concerning District Attorney Dennis. One of her friends, attorney Harvey Specter, sent us a file about an old case on which the DA had neglected some facts which had led to the imprisonment of an innocent."
"Glad to see you have new developments, Finch. Still I feel like it could prove unsufficient if we want agent Burke to be totally cleared. The informations you have gathered will undermine the prosecution, but not prove the innocence of Burke. We need to keep looking for Neal's father. He's the only one that can allow agent Burke to get back his position in the FBI."
"I know, John, I know…" Finch concluded with a slightly worried tone. "In any case, all the documents we have will be given to agent Burke's lawyer. I don't know what she'll do with them. Let's hope, it will help her defend her client in the best way."
Reese heard the familiar clicks of Finch's keyboard. The sound was comforting. He longed to be back at the library.
"Two more informations, Mr. Reese. Trusted men will come to pick up Miss Ellis at the airport. A helicopter will be waiting for you, ready to take you to the same heliport you already used. It's the closest to the rendez-vous point given by Keller, underneath the Queensboro Bridge."
"Thank you, Finch. Ask Shaw to position herself at the meeting point. I need her to case the place and maybe provide some support. I highly doubt Keller will come alone. Bye now; I'll trying resting a bit before tonight."
John ended the call and closed his eyes a moment. Weariness was gaining fast but he needed to keep an eye on Sara. Nevertheless, he allowed his body to relax; they were safe in the plane. Yet, there were so many things to care of…
PoI – WC – PoI – WC – PoI
New York, FBI building, 5:00 pm
When he left the office at the end of the day, Neal looked for Shaw and found her quite easily. He went straight to her.
From up close, the woman was scary. Brown haired, short, she seemed made of steel. Her face, though pretty, seemed angry. As if she held a grudge against the whole world.
"Hello," he said extending his hand.
Shaw seemed surprised and hesitated before shaking the hand back.
"We're not supposed to talk?" Neal asked.
"No, not really," Shaw answered. "I'd rather keep my distance. It's easier for me, if I'm not seen."
"The meeting has been set; I doubt Keller is watching me now."
"Yes, I know. We will be there."
"I need a gun," Neal explained, ready to use all his tricks to convince her.
"Yes, of course."
Shaw put her arm to her back, then seemed to realize that handing out a gun in plain daylight in the middle of the street might get them some stares. She pointed to the side and they moved to a smaller street.
She took the gun, checked the bullets and gave it to him.
"Do you need more ammunition?" she asked in a cold voice.
"No, I'll be fine."
If he didn't kill Keller with one clip, the outcome didn't leave much room to surprise.
"We'll get him," Shaw informed him. "Go back home."
Neal slid the gun in his back and stopped a taxi. He wanted to go home, let Shaw figure out how to follow him. As the taxi drove away, he looked back to watch her. In some ways, she was even scarier than John. A smaller version, but just as deadly. Maybe even more. He had seen a human side to John; Shaw looked like a killing machine, devoid of any feeling or emotion.
Sara was safe, somewhere above the Atlantic Ocean. He needed to call Mozzie. If the meeting with Keller came to a tragic end, he needed to make sure she would be fine. He was surprised by how clear everything looked. He hated violence, yet he was about to kill a man…
He didn't recognize himself.
TBC
N/A: Will Neal actually kill Keller?
Stay tuned…
