Chapter 7: Backdoor

John wasn't entirely sure what Cara was intending from her words. But for now, his main focus was getting Finch and himself out of the self-storage warehouse and back home. He then jumped forward and grabbed Harold off the chair. "Come on," he raspily ordered. Blood from his hand smeared on the back of Finch's jacket.

As they ran down through the warehouse, Finch spotted a backdoor exit. "This way, John," he whispered.

They headed toward the backdoor exit and emerged out into the parking area.

"My car is here somewhere," Finch said, a little disoriented by the events of late.

"Over there," John said, pointing to Finch's car sitting alone in the parking area off to the side.

As they got to the car, Finch pulled his keys out of his jacket pocket then stated, "I'll drive, John. I'm in better shape than you."

John got in the passenger side as Harold started his car and began heading back toward New York City. The trip would be long, and they were tired and weary. But they both wanted to drive straight on back to the place they both now regarded as home.

Finch could see John trying to stop the blood flow from the cuts on his hand by using the bottom of his shirt to wrap around it and apply pressure. "Do you want me to stop?" Finch asked.

"No," John answered. "I want to go home."

An hour into their journey, Reese broke their silence, "I'm in pretty deep right now, Harold."

"Do you trust me, Mr. Reese?" Finch asked.

John paused, considering his question.

Without waiting for his answer, Finch offered, "I guess as much as a man who has been deceived so greatly from everyone in his life—all of his life—could possibly trust another human being."

Reese remained quiet. The truth was, he did trust Harold Finch. He respected the man and had grown to actually like him.

Inhaling deeply, John asked, "How much do you actually know about me, Mr. Finch?"

"I know you have no father listed on your birth certificate. I know your grandfather was the only one who cared for you when you were a baby, but he died when you were just a little boy," Harold said.

"I was four," John interjected.

Finch continued, "I know your grandmother took your mother to court on eight separate occasions to force her to take custody of you."

John swallowed hard.

Finch continued, "I know your grandmother was a detached, bitter woman who made you to work every single day in that little grocery store. I know that when she died, the Department of Social Services took you to your mother, but that didn't last long because your stepfather accused you of attacking him. I know you were just trying to defend your mother from your stepfather's abuse."

John found it difficult to hear his life encapsulated and spoken aloud by Harold in just a few sentences.

Harold continued, "I know your mother died while you were away at military school. I know you tried for two and a half years to find your biological father, but to this day, you still don't know who he is."

"Do you?" John interrupted.

"I told you that I know absolutely everything about you, John," Harold answered.

The magnitude of Harold's words struck him.

"John, I also know that the CIA charted your fate long before you had ever considered joining the Delta Force. I know about your missions...the things they made you do...the things you and Cara did in the name of National Intelligence," Harold stated.

John dropped his head.

"I know that you came to have doubts. John, you must understand that the United States government capitalizes on people like. You were absolutely perfect for the military service," Harold concluded.

"So you're saying that we're all pawns?" Reese asked.

"You, along with many, many of your counterparts who have been groomed from the very beginning of their military careers, have been used, lied to, and deceived," Finch answered. "Why do you think the American government recruits people like you?"

"Like me?" Reese asked.

"Yes, people with no connections, no family," Finch answered. "And the few connections you do have...well...you're told to eliminate them. Unconnected people have no one who will miss them…no one to question…when they cease to exist. They are expendable."

John swallowed hard against the lump that had arisen in his throat.

As Harold stared deeply into John, he could see John's physical reaction to his words. He saw John's facial expression change to vacant. He continued to press forward, "We have a lot in common, John. Prior to last year, we both could have been killed and there would have been no family…no…friends… to know or care."

John inhaled deeply again.

"Together, we are stronger...strong," Harold stated. "This whole governmental conspiracy is unimaginably huge. It's a picture far greater than you could ever fathom."

As Harold studied John—his battered face, bloody hand, blood-soaked shirt…everything about John Reese at that moment—he began to feel an overwhelming sense of obligation toward his partner. Finch stated as he turned back to look at the road ahead, "When I first created The Machine, my friend Nathan Ingram was the front for our company."

John already knew about Nathan Ingram but remained silent so Finch wouldn't know that he had been digging up information on him.

"Nathan knew what we had been asked to do but couldn't live with the countless lives showing up on the Irrelevant List who were carelessly tossed aside at midnight each night. So it was Nathan who built the contingency code. At first I didn't care. My work building The Machine and gathering Intel for the CIA had trapped me within the chains of power and greed. I then lost everything, John…and it was all my fault. Innocent people were hurt because of me."

Silence engulfed them again.

Reese broke the silence and stated, "Harold, this is what I know."

"Yes?" Finch asked.

John said, "I know you tried to help Jessica. I know you feel remorse for not being able to do so." He paused for a few moments to collect himself. "I also know you saved my life."

"Thank you, John," Harold whispered.

John continued, "Thank you for trying to save her. Thank you for giving me a second chance."

Finch had a wave of emotions come over him. He saw from his peripheral vision John lean his head against the window.

Another 20 minutes of silence hung between them.

John lifted his head to look at the road through the car's windshield. "This is what I believe," he stated.

"Okay…" Finch answered.

"You don't have to confirm or deny anything, Mr. Finch. This is just what I have concluded," Reese said.

"Alright…go ahead," Finch responded.

John continued, "I believe you and Nathan have the drives the Chinese built and that he is still alive and at the backdoor feeding you information. But, I believe that even though the machine has its own level of intelligence, it is actually your intelligence that is The Machine."

Finch stared at the road ahead.

"The government can't control it because they can't understand it. Hell, who could really understand how that mind of yours works?" John said.

Finch turned around and gave John a smile.

"That's why the CIA came after you. They figured that out. They realized that their little anonymous source all those years was actually the intelligence behind the all-powerful machine they had contracted Nathan to build. So, once they figured out you were the actual creator…the sysadmin…the main intelligence…of The Machine, they tried to get to you—not to kill you—but to enslave you…to own you. Just like they owned me all those years," Reese concluded.

Finch turned to look at Reese.

"Nathan was in their way…was expendable," Reese stated.

"Yes," Finch confirmed.

Reese continued, "So, I believe that what's happening here is that this country is pretty damn close to fascism. Certain elements of our government are completely out of control. Take the NSA. It has the ability to tap into billions of correspondences every day from the American public but not the intelligence to make sense of it. So that's where The Machine came in to play."

Finch unintentionally accelerated his car.

John could hear the car's engine revving. He paused then added, "From what I've been able to surmise…I now understand that by its very structure, our supposed democratic government—or rather the legislative branch—has an unbalanced portion of power. It is also at the mercy and whim of a small minority of people in order to get reelected. And, people have this basic, excessive drive for wealth. You know that to be true, don't you Mr. Finch?"

"Yes," Finch answered.

"You've been providing me with little bits and pieces all along, haven't you Harold?" John asked.

"You've been doing your homework, Mr. Reese," Finch responded.

"I can read," Reese answered sarcastically.

"Yes you can," Finch answered, shaking his head up and down, displaying a small smile on his face. After a few minutes, Finch added, "Good for you, John."

"I didn't think that those particular books you brought for me to read when I was sidelined was inadvertent," Reese said.

"No they weren't" Finch stated. 'So let's connect a few more dots, then."

John turned to face Harold, turning up the left side of his mouth into a half-smile, revealing his uncertainty.

"It's so much bigger than anyone could ever imagine possible," Harold stated.

"Except you," John stated as he glanced back over at Finch.

Finch continued, "So, let me ask you this, Mr. Reese."

"Okay," John answered.

"Why do you think immediately upon taking office—eight months before the towers came down—the second George Bush pushed forward legislation called No Child Left Behind?"

John furrowed his brow. "I don't know. Why?" he asked.

"You already know that national intelligence is for the most part mainly privatized. You have seen and experienced the human being's inability to handle any amount of power…their sheer greediness and…well…self-centeredness."

"Yes," John answered.

"Our government is at the heart of the largest conspiracy ever concocted in this country," Finch agitatedly stated.

"Are you planning to connect those dots, Harold?" John sarcastically asked.

Harold let out a single laugh then stated, "This all started well before 9-11. They just used 9-11 as an excuse to justify their work."

John cocked his head to the side. "Okay…please quit stalling," John stated.

"No Child Left Behind, the legislation that is said to be about setting high standards and establishing measurable goals to improve public education," Harold started.

"Yes?" John asked.

"Well, No Child Left Behind expanded the federal government's role in public education," Finch stated. "And has left proportionately more children behind now than ever in the history of public education. Schools have just gotten crafty in how they hide them."

John was struggling with understanding how all these pieces fit together.

Finch could see John's inability to comprehend what he was saying. Then he added, "It's about creating unthinking, ignorant people who won't have the capacity to think or ask questions."

John shook his head. "What?" he asked.

"It's not about federal standards to improve our educational system or ensuring that all children learn," Finch added. "Think about this. Where do the top minority send their children and grandchildren to school?"

"This is crazy," Reese stated.

"They are breeding and educating their own to take over one day while dumbing down the majority." Finch exclaimed.

"You know how you sound, don't you Harold?" Reese asked.

"Yes, but I know the truth," Harold answered.

John took in a deep breath.

"There will eventually be only two classes of people. We're seeing it now, aren't we? This whole downward spiral in our economy is a farce...smoking mirrors. The division between the rich and the poor grows larger every day. You know it because you lived in it before you came to work for me. Those people are truly the victims in all this."

"But I guess they're smart enough not to buy into all this," Reese stated.

"Touché," Finch responded.

John squinted at Harold. "This is too much," he said.

"I know," Finch answered.

"You sound like a paranoid extremist. Education…the economy…The Machine?" Reese interjected.

"Only the paranoid survive, Mr. Reese," Finch stated.

John had heard Harold make that statement on several occasions prior. "I believe you, Harold," John answered. "What the hell do they want? What's the sum total?" John asked.

"In due time," Finch answered.

Reese turned back to look at Finch. He recognized those words, the very last words Cara had uttered to him before they left the warehouse. He knew that Finch was smart enough not to carelessly drop them on him. He then realized that Cara was deeper connected than he had believed.

John couldn't fathom the affect the depth of Harold's knowledge had to have on him. He couldn't fathom the guilt he must feel…and the willpower he had to have not to be sucked back in to the power. He continued, "I believe that not only does vast knowledge and power cause corruption, but also in this case, it is deadly. I believe that you came to realize that our government wasn't planning to use The Machine as you had intended. I believe that you came to see that most human beings simply don't have the capacity to properly handle power because you yourself had fallen prey to its charms."

"Yes…that's true," Harold confirmed. "Once people get a little power, it's like a drug. It eats at them, changing them, damaging them."

John interrupted, "So all this is about a few people who don't have the capacity to do the right thing."

"If what you suppose is correct, then you must know that upon my demise, you will be told everything," Finch answered. "I believe you have the capacity to do the right thing."

Reese glanced over at Finch who was gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white.

"It's okay, Harold," John said. "I understand."

Then there was another long pause between them.

Finch continued to speed back toward New York. He could tell that Reese's eyes were half-closed, but he was fighting sleep. Finch wondered what Reese could possibly be thinking about at that moment.

Then finally Reese broke the silence, "Are we really making a difference, then? Does our little mission of saving people on the Irrelevant List really matter?"

Finch paused, breathed in deeply, then answered, "In regards to the much bigger picture…I'm not sure."

Reese closed his eyes and sighed.

Finch continued, "But it does matter to the one person we save. I hope it will matter in the long run."

John opened his eyes and turned to look at Harold, a look of recognition on his face. "That one person could ultimately be the one who saves this country from itself," John added.

Finch smiled at Reese. Then, dropping his smile, he stated, "I know this is hard for you not knowing everything. I also know that like a good operative, you are spying on me and are locating bits and pieces all along. Like I said before, be careful what you look for because you may find it."

John smiled at the road ahead.

"What we have been doing is very important, Mr. Reese," Finch said.

John closed his eyes.

"When we get back to New York City, you can walk away. I wouldn't blame you if you did."

"Harold," Reese calmly stated in his low whispery voice, opening his eyes and turning to look directly at Harold, "Like you said, what we're doing is important. We have a lot of work ahead of us."

"Finch exhaled, "The numbers keep coming, don't they, Mr. Reese?"

"They keep coming," John answered.

"I need you to know this," Finch added. "I have certainly not disclosed everything to you, but I promise I won't lie to you…or betray you…like everyone else has," Finch stated.

They were both quiet for a few moments.

Then John answered, "I know, Harold. I trust you."

Harold smiled. He continued driving toward New York City with John by his side.

They had a lot of work ahead of them.

THE END

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