PART 7

It wasn't just a contest, of course, it were the World Finals.

John had familiarized himself with the layout of the competition grounds and the rules during the night.

Now he was at the edge of the field, disguised for once not in his customary black suit, but in jeans and the colorful t-shirt of the event organizers.

Neither he, nor Finch or Bear could get within fifteen feet of Carlyle and Danielle, without the dog barking like mad. So he was keeping close to Kosuke now, with Finch and Bear on the bleachers near the Yoshiokas, while Fusco had gotten the job to shadow Carlyle.

John still wasn't convinced the guy was a sexual predator.

As opposed to the case with Megan Tillman and Benton, Carlyle didn't spell smug, charming and overly confident. But Finch had been quite adamant that his Machine didn't see accidents and that it looked mostly for lethal intent.

It had given them Leila's number too, though.

Still, Finch had insisted the Machine wouldn't have given them Kosuke's number to save the dog - to save Shelby - from getting kidnapped. Not even, he'd stressed, if Carlyle had truly intended to kill her.

Nothing in Shelby's medical files suggested an allergy to any sedative, but John knew Ketamine could be a dangerous drug. The dose needed to produce anesthesia in dogs was very near to that which caused seizures.

On the other hand, Ketamine was a common date rape drug as well, which also made it possible - if not really likely, in his opinion - that Carlyle could have been after the boy.

So, whilst they hadn't agreed on a theory, he and Finch had definitely agreed on pushing things by allowing Kosuke to compete.

It was late morning now and the grounds were full of simply dressed people of all ages, with and without dogs. The sun shone brightly and even Finch had been forced to forgo his usual three-piece suit, so as not to catch too much attention. Fusco on his part seemed oddly relaxed in his casual clothes, even surrounded by yelping, barking and a chorus of childish chatter and excited conversations.

On a second field the non-qualified and novice competitors would be holding their contests after the current World Final round, and for a moment John entertained the idea of joining. Bear wouldn't need any training for the 'Toss and Fetch' event. Even Finch would be able to participate in it with him, but with his injuries he would probably stand out too much. And if he himself were to compete and win, he would stand out too much as well.

After the first Freestyle round, Kosuke was just taking his place for the 'Toss and Fetch' competition, when Fusco reported Carlyle at the forty meter line, sans Danielle.

John had the strange feeling suddenly, that something would go wrong. But Shelby made the first two catches effortlessly, with eleven points. Then however, he saw her falter momentarily on the third catch and activated his ear-piece.

"Something's affecting Shelby."

It was all he could say, before on the next run, Shelby stumbled over her own legs. She tumbled, rolled, then came to a stop and tried to get up. She crashed down almost immediately again with a yelp though, and John ran towards her without a second thought, mirroring Kosuke. Mindful of his own injuries, he let the boy lift up his own dog, before ushering both of them towards the first-aid tent.

When he glanced back at the field, Carlyle was nowhere to be seen.

"Mr. Reese?" came the question through his ear-piece.

He ignored it for the time being, focused on the vet examining Shelby's eyes, taking her pulse and blood pressure. When the Doctor accidentally brushed her leg, the dog whined and John had a memory flash of an earlier occurrence.

"Something might have stung her a few minutes ago." he told the Doctor. "She kept scratching her right hind leg."

He could have cursed himself for not giving it any thought earlier. It had been just as Carlyle had passed them by, and he'd been too focused on Kosuke and his apparent adversary to have paid any attention to the dog.

It didn't take long for the vet however, to find and pull a small, black-feathered dart from Shelby's leg. The shaft had been well hidden in her long fur.

Furious with himself, John stepped outside the tent.

"The bastard drugged Shelby with a dart!" he all but snarled into the comm device.

He was angry with Finch too, for dismissing the possibility that Carlyle would hurt the dog. That the Machine would want to protect another living being, even if it wasn't a human.

"Where's Carlyle?" he demanded then, when he also couldn't see Fusco.

"Carter just arrived." the burly Detective answered instead. "I looked away for only a moment..."

John wanted to growl in anger.

"You let him give you the slip!" he spat instead, only to be interrupted by Finch.

Finch, who was his usual commanding self, told Fusco to keep an eye on Kosuke and Carter to take over watching the Yoshiokas. Then Finch all but ordered him to meet him underneath the bleachers.

So John went there, anger fueling his every step.


Finch waited stiffly underneath the bleachers, with his back even straighter than usual and his lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval.

He could understand Reese's anger, could even accept it to a certain degree. He couldn't condone it, though.

Losing their tempers would get them nowhere.

When Reese came around the corner, Finch had to notice, that they were currently total opposites; calm determination in contrast to burning fury.

"For what it's worth," he stated, as the younger man drew closer, "The bullet from the unknown dog was a match to the rifle."

Reese stopped an arm's length away. Finch waited for him to speak, but his partner merely nodded.

"Carlyle carried an umbrella with him earlier, likely to fend off the sun. He didn't use it, however." Finch continued. "It could have been utilized to subdue the dog."

Reese raised an eyebrow at that.

"The Bulgarian umbrella, Finch?" he queried, drily. "That guy? Really?"

Finch relaxed his features, if only marginally. Reese seemed almost amused, though he didn't delude himself by believing everything was fine between them just yet. They might not get into an argument right now, but this was far from over.

"You tell me, Mr. Reese." he therefore requested, not unkindly.

"I guess it's possible." Reese said after a moment, his gaze eerily unfocused. Finch suspected his mind was more in the past than the present.

"They showed one can be built using an air pistol, a couple of years back on Discovery Channel."

Finch refrained from raising an eyebrow of his own at that piece of information. He'd learned better than to ask about certain things. So, instead, he held out Bear's leash, without a word.

When Reese finally accepted it, he took a plastic bag from his pocket. It contained a cloth handkerchief he'd carefully borrowed on his visit to Carlyle's office.

A predatory smile stole itself onto Reese's face, when Finch opened the bag and offered it to Bear to sniff. The dog did so without prompting, then looked at them for further instructions.

For a few seconds they just stared at each other.

Then Reese nodded, grabbed the leash tighter and spoke the command.

"Bear, zoek!"


Bear was too well trained to lose their target.

Even with dozens of other dogs and hundreds of people around, he followed his nose unerringly. He led John over half the grounds, backtracking a couple of times. But he never hesitated and didn't let anything distract him, not even some free dog food on offer from a company out to get new customers.

John knew that, as a military dog, he'd been trained not to accept food from anyone but his handler. Eventually he must have taken food from the thugs that had killed his master, but John had made sure to reinforce Bear's original training. He wouldn't eat anything, unless he or Finch gave it to him, or unless either of them allowed him to eat it.

After less than ten minutes, Bear barked once and sat down at the entrance of a tent.

For a moment, John contemplated unclipping the leash and he also contemplated taking out his gun, but in the end decided against both. Carlyle wouldn't be a danger with his umbrella gun, as long as they stayed out of his immediate reach. The thing was only effective in close proximity.

John cautiously stepped through the tent flaps with Bear.

It was a big tent, with various separate cubicles off to the right, apparently a changing area of some kind. Only one of the cubicles was occupied and from the rustling of clothes John figured he'd picked a bad moment for Carlyle. In his former career, he would immediately have taken advantage of that opening to subdue or kill his opponent, but a lot had changed since then.

"It's over, Carlyle." he announced instead.

The sounds stopped for a moment, then resumed. John figured the man was getting dressed to see who'd found him, so he waited patiently.

When the curtain was finally pushed aside, though, Bear immediately started barking like mad.

Carlyle was aiming a gun at them and from the way he was holding it, John could see that he had definitely some training in handling it. It wasn't something he'd expected.

"Mr. Reese?" came the worried question from his ear-piece.

John would naturally have answered, but didn't think it wise to tip his hand right then. He'd already underestimated his opponent gravely. He wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.

"It's over." he repeated instead, after ordering Bear to be quiet. "You just made sure you'll never compete again."

Carlyle snorted derisively. He eyed the dog for a moment, then focused back on John.

"You bring a dog to a gunfight?" he asked, ignoring the message he'd been given. "But then, what else I am supposed to expect from some sport people? What is he? An agility champion?"

John refrained from snorting derisively himself.

Other perpetrators would have targeted the dog immediately, perceiving it as a threat. But Carlyle didn't and everything they'd learned about him so far suggested he wouldn't harm the animal. John wasn't so sure about his own chances however, especially when Carlyle lifted the gun.

"Bear, Stellen!" he commanded, before things could go farther out of hand.

Bear jumped immediately and sunk his teeth into Carlyle's arm. The man screamed in pain and let go of his gun. It didn't take long until Carlyle was on the ground, the dog still hanging onto him.

John took the gun, then ordered Bear to back off, but gave him the command to guard their prey.

"Mr. Reese? Reese? John?"

Finch's voice in his ear was getting frantic, and he hastened to ensure that they were okay. Then he turned back to Carlyle, who was still lying where Bear had left him, clutching his bleeding arm.

- to be continued -