A/N: Big thanks and many virtual hugs to Bookwyrm52... I hope this is to your liking!
"Are you done back there?" the cabbie asked irritably. He glared through the rearview mirror at the young man squirming around on the backseat, his legs hanging out the door.
"Not yet."
"Well, hurry up – I'm losing money just sitting here. What are you looking for, anyway?"
Logan Pierce pulled his legs fully into the car and sat up, debating his next move. "A watch," he finally replied. "I think it got lost back here."
It had to have been what happened. Ever since he'd gotten bored enough to activate the tracking device he'd hidden in the watch he'd given John Wiley – probably not even the guy's real name, but that was beside the point – he'd been chasing the signal across the city. It wasn't until lunch that it stayed in one place long enough for him to catch up.
At first, when he saw that the signal was coming from the taxi, he'd thought Wiley was moonlighting as a driver. When that proved false, he assumed Wiley had left the watch in the cab to throw him off the trail.
But that wasn't right either; he'd searched every inch of the backseat and found nothing.
His phone buzzed, and he checked it. The signal was moving again – but this time, it was on a perpendicular street and heading away from him.
Pierce swore under his breath. Wiley must have spotted him somewhere. This guy was good. Still, Pierce had the upper hand; if the signal was moving again, then clearly the tracker hadn't been discovered yet.
"Okay, you wanna make some money then?" Pierce said, shutting the car door. "Go up to the next street and take a left."
"Where are we going?" the driver asked as he merged into traffic.
"I'll let you know when we get there. Just go!"
"Morning, Finch."
Finch nodded in greeting, his attention focused on the monitors in front of him. One of them had a map with a pair of blinking dots, one blue and one red. Another was devoted to the NYC Taxi Commission's internal network.
He sensed Reese come up behind him, watching curiously. "New number?"
"Not quite," Finch replied. "Our friend Logan Pierce tried to activate that tracker this morning, so I decided it was time to discourage his insistence on prying into our operations."
"How so?"
"I reverse-engineered the tracker's programming and transponder ID, and uploaded it into the NYC Taxi Commission's GPS network," Finch said. "I can move the signal from one cab to another as I wish." He turned to look at Reese, eyebrows raised in what was – for him, anyway – a playful expression. "An entire day of chasing taxis across Manhattan should be sufficient for him to drop the matter, don't you think?"
Reese chuckled softly. "Rather clever of you, Finch."
Finch allowed himself an indulgent smirk before turning his attention back to the computers.
"So what did you wind up doing with the real tracker?"
"I repurposed it for a contingency, should Mr. Pierce decide to continue pursuing the matter after today." Finch glanced over at Reese and, seeing the questioning look on his face, elaborated. "I had the tracker implanted in a Canada goose currently residing in Central Park. It should be migrating south within the next two weeks."
Reese's eyebrows shot upward in surprise. Finch stared placidly back at him; he had to fight very hard to maintain a neutral expression.
"In a Canada goose," Reese repeated incredulously, clearly trying to figure out if Finch was serious or just screwing with him. "How did you – never mind, I don't want to know," he amended with a shake of his head. "So Pierce is going to chase waterfowl down to Mexico?"
Finch shrugged. "Maybe not quite that far," he reasoned. "He could wind up in Florida, perhaps... or possibly the coastal area of the Carolinas. The winter habitat of the Canada goose covers a large range; it's hard to say exactly where this particular goose will go. Besides, anyone who can jet off to St. Petersburg at a moment's notice for the sake of pierogies can surely afford an unscheduled trip to the southern U.S."
"And when he wises up...?"
"Given that he's been following random taxis for the past six hours, I'd surmise that won't be an issue for a while. Besides, as I mentioned earlier, the end goal is that when he 'wises up', he also gives up. Once he realizes what he's chasing, he'll also understand that he has no leads left."
"You're enjoying this way too much, Harold."
"Actually, if I were looking for amusement, I could always do this..."
This time, Finch didn't even try to fight the mischievous smirk as he started typing…
The phone buzzed again. Pierce glanced down, his eyes widening at the impossible sight on the display. "Son of a – !"
Meanwhile, in an abandoned Library in Manhattan, a former CIA agent and a reclusive billionaire shared a rare moment of hysterical laughter as they listened to Pierce loudly – and verbosely – try to sort through the 5,273 tracker signals now showing on his phone.
A/N 2: Tag to episode 2x14 "One Percent"
Prompted by Bookwyrm52 in the reviews section
Prompt: "What did Harold and Reese end up doing with that GPS tracker Price [sic] planted in "One Percent"? Price had certainly annoyed them enough for them to want some pay back."
