Chaos 23
He has Grace... That's all John could think about as he looked into Harold's panicked, grief stricken eyes. The words kept playing over and over in his mind like a broken record that keeps skipping. His mind was frozen. He didn't know how he was going to fix this. He could feel his own panic start to rise inside him, but ruthlessly wrestled it down with another, much stronger emotion. White, hot, anger.
The hottest flame is the flame that burns white, and that's exactly what Harold saw in John's eyes. As he looked into those dark grey-blue depths that same flame caught in Harold's heart, and then flamed in his eyes. Who did this worm think he was to take my Grace, Harold thought vengefully. Harold walked around his desk to stand in front of John. The two men stared at each other stoically, then wordlessly Harold brought up his hand, and without taking his eyes from Harold's, John took it. Silently they forged a contract that needed no lawyers or papers to sign. It was a contract bound in friendship, commitment, and love.
"We've got work to do, Mr. Reese" Harold said, calling him by the name he strictly used in professional circles. They had business to attend to.
"Yes we do, Finch, let's get to it." John replied darkly. Reaching into his pocket John pulled out his phone. "The first thing I need to do is bring in reinforcements." He punched in a number, put the phone to his ear, and waited. "Tom, I need you at HQ, in Harold's office, as soon as possible. Yes, I know you're with Ms. Carter, but I'm about to call her too, and you're to bring her with you. Wait for her to come out to you, then you leave together. Do not leave her side. Is that understood? Call me when you are on your way."
John hung up with Tom and immediately called Joss. He glanced at Harold who was at the Machine console typing furiously. John's lips thinned in anger, and then Joss picked up. "Hey John, I didn't think I'd hear from you for a while. Thought you'd be..."
"Listen, Joss, I don't have time to explain, but I need to ask you something, and I want you to be completely honest with yourself and me." John interrupted in a rush. "Do you feel well enough to come to the office and help us out with a few things? We could use your insight and expertise." He knew she was surprised by his question, but hoped she would trust him.
"Yes, John. I'm well enough. I'll be there as soon as possible," Joss replied.
"I've already called Tom in, too. So all you have to do is walk out and tell him you're ready and he will bring you here with him. And Joss," John paused for a moment thinking about what Harold must be going through, "I love you so very much."
"I love you too, baby. See you in a bit." Joss said lovingly, and then they disconnected. John pocketed his phone as he walked toward Harold at the Machine console. Whatever Harold was doing, he was completely engrossed in it. John gently tapped Harold on the shoulder trying not to startle him, but Harold jumped nearly a foot anyway. John grimaced an apology, and Harold gave John a tentative smile back.
"What are you doing, Harold?"
"I was thinking about that recording, and it occurred to me that there were back ground sounds I could separate from the rest of the noise, and input into the Machine. Then we could possibly receive coordinates where the recording was made." Harold explained.
"But, Harold, we already know where Mark's going to be. Why would you want those coordinates?" John asked puzzled.
Harold looked at John steadily. "We know where Snow's going to be, yes. I want to know where he is. I want to know where he's holding Grace. I'm not waiting till the end of the day. I don't follow his orders. He follows mine." Harold replied with a steel in his voice John had never heard before, and which brooked no argument. John nodded in acquiescence, and decided to move on to his other thought.
"Harold, I've called in Tom and Joss to help us with this. If we're going to use the Machine to help us, we're going to have to tell them about it." John said softly.
Again, Harold looked at John unrelentingly, and then sighed heavily. "I suppose you're right, John. In retrospect I think the real reason I didn't tell Grace was because I was more afraid of what she would think of me, than of the danger to her. When this is over, I'm telling her everything. No secrets between us. Not anymore. She means to much to me, John." Harold ended on a whisper. Looking back up at John, he said, "You should tell Joss, I'll talk to Tom, separately." John nodded silently again, and left Harold to his work.
He had one more phone call to make so John pulled out his phone again, and punched his speed dial.
"Hello Lionel, it's been awhile. How are you?" John asked with a smirk.
"What the hell do you want?" was the acid response John received which made his smirk wider.
After hanging up with John, Joss immediately stood up from the recliner where she had been lounging, reading one of her fashion magazines. She was still dressed in the clothes she wore from the hospital so all she needed to do was put on her sneakers, run a brush through her hair, apply some lip gloss, and she would be ready.
As Joss went about these small chores, she thought about the conversation she had with John. She couldn't say he had been secretive, really; he had just said he didn't have time to explain, so it must have something to do with the kidnap victim, she concluded. But his voice sounded dark, and he seemed to be more on edge than he had been earlier. What had changed? She was unsure what insight or expertise she might be able to contribute, but she was willing to do what she could.
Joss grabbed her purse as she walked to the front door, and opened it to find Tom waiting for her just as John said. She smiled broadly at Tom, but when he didn't smile back she frowned, then screamed, and was just able to move out of the way as he fell forward in a heap in a heap at her feet.
Joss tore her eyes from Tom's prone body to see a balding man, of average height, slight in build, with dark menacing eyes, and holding a gun pointed at her. She didn't have to be told who he was, she already knew...Mark Snow.
"Is he..."Joss swallowed, "is he...dead?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"No, just unconscious. His death would mean nothing to me or further my objective." Snow responded in his cold, nasally voice.
"What...What do you want. John's not here."
"Why, I want you, Jocelyn. You are going to be my insurance," Snow said as if that was the most reasonable thing in the world. "You're going to make sure John plays nice. Because I'm sure he and Harold know who I've taken by now and they won't want to play fair. So when I call John and tell him I also have you, well, he's not going to risk anything happening to you now, is he?" A wicked grin creased Snow's face, and Joss felt her skin crawl as he looked her up and down lustily. "Come on, let's get moving," then Snow pulled Joss through door, and down the hall.
Snow hadn't bound her hands so Joss secretly pushed the button on the back of the clasp of her hoop earrings that sent out her location in an emergency. This signal went directly to John, and he would know immediately that she was in trouble.
Come on John, get me out of this. Like I said, Bat Shit Crazy! Thought Joss.
John stood up from the chair he had pulled over to the work station of the Machine, and rolled his head, trying to stretch the tight muscles in his neck. He glanced down at his watch, and frowned, he should have heard from Joss, and Tom by now. He walked toward Lionel Fusco who was lounging in one of the plush chairs in the reception area of Harold's office.
"Making yourself comfortable, Lionel?" John asked with the smirk he reserved for the detective. Actually John and Lionel were good friends, although at first that hadn't been the case. Joss didn't know it, but Lionel had been on his way to turning bad when John stepped in, and gave him a new purpose. John helped Lionel disentangle himself from HR, then recruited him as an asset. Their relationship had slowly grown into genuine respect and even a friendship, even though they groused at one another endlessly. John had also helped Lionel personally with getting sober, and building his relationship with his son, Lee, again.
Lionel smirked back, "Why not? That's what these chairs are for, ain't they? Hey, I thought you said Joss was comin'?" He added.
John was about to answer when something happened that made his stomach drop. He looked at his watch and sure enough Joss's alarm had gone off. The red dot on his watch blinked at him angrily. He knew exactly what was happening without being told. Mark Snow was happening.
"Whoa, John, what's wrong? You look like you just seen a ghost!" Lionel exclaimed, alarmed at John's expression of first fear, then rage.
"Mark Snow has Joss now, too! Dammit, I'll kill him with my bare hands!" John turned on his heel, and marched over to Harold, who had been watching the whole exchange, with Lionel close behind him.
"Joss turned her tracker on, Harold, find it. We find her, we find Snow. We find Snow, we find Grace." John said as he reached Harold.
Harold turned immediately and began typing the code to Joss's emergency alarm into the Machine. Almost instantly a map with a set of coordinates flashed onto the large screen above them.
Lionel watched as the information came up. He still had trouble believing the Machine existed. John had told him about it a while back because he was helping with the numbers. John and Harold both thought he deserved to know since he was putting his life on the line just as they were.
"Are you sure those coordinates are good? You don't think Snow could've found the tracker and dumped it somewhere, do you?" Lionel asked.
"No, I don't think Mark found it," John said, looking up at the screen. "We put it in the clasp on the back of her earring. The least likely place he would look. The first thing he would do is dispose of her watch, that's why we decided on her earring instead," he added, turning to Lionel.
"Okay, so where is she?" Lionel asked looking at the screen, but unable to make head nor tails of it. It looked like gibberish to him because it was in longitudes and latitudes.
"Give us just a moment, Detective, and we'll have a complete location for you," Harold said softly, gazing at the screen. It wasn't lost on John that Harold said us instead of it, and he smiled in spite of himself. "Brooklyn, she's in Brooklyn. At 452 Colonial Street. Just a moment and I'll have a visual for you," Harold said excitedly, and then typed a few keys into the Machine. As they watched the Machine linked into a street camera outside the door of a small, semi-rundown, two story, Victorian home with a wide front veranda that wrapped around the side of the home.
"Can you get a wider view, Finch? I want to see what kind of traffic is on that street." John said, his mind already playing scenarios on how to breech the home.
Harold typed in more keystrokes, and the Machine switched to a camera across the street which gave them a wider angle of the street. John looked at his watch. It was 8:30 pm. It looked quiet, and from what he could see there were only a few houses in the vicinity. The home seemed to be located on about a quarter of an acre plot, which was premium in New York City. John wondered if Mark owned the property or if it was an old safe-house that wasn't in use anymore.
"I'll bet you anything Snow has both women there," Lionel said conclusively.
Harold and John nodded in agreement. Now they needed a plan.
"Okay, gentlemen. We know the who and the where. Now we just need to plan the how..."
Harold was interrupted by John's phone ringing. John looked at the caller I.D. already knowing who it would be, then answered, "Hello"
"Hello, John," came the garbled voice of Mark Snow. John debated whether to tell him they knew who he was, and then figured, What the hell?
"Hello, Mark," John replied with barely restrained fury.
There was a long pause on the other end, and then Mark Snow's real voice came over the line. John looked at Harold, and Harold nodded yes they were recording.
"So you figured out it was me," Mark said confidently. "No matter. Just to make sure you play by the rules, I decided to take out some insurance. I have something, or should I say, someone, of yours. Stay within the perimeters of the game, and Joss will be returned to you, no harm done. And maybe you can save Grace, too. What...a...dilemma. Can the great John Reese save them both?" Mark laughed maniacally.
Joss was right, he is bat shit crazy, John thought. "You better not harm a hair on Joss's head, Mark." John said darkly. "But don't worry, I'll play by your rules," John lied smoothly. He had no intention of waiting till midnight or 3 am. "Just remember, if you don't hold up your end...I'm coming for you." Then the line went dead.
John pocketed his phone, and looked at both men standing in front of him.
"Well, that tells us for certain that Mark doesn't know about Joss's tracker. He thought he was telling me for the first time that he had her. Hopefully, he bought my reaction enough to keep believing that. Now," he said taking in a deep breath, "we need to get this right, we won't get a second chance. Our ladies are depending on us."
Lionel clapped his hands together and rubbed them,"Right! Let's rock 'n roll!"
John and Harold smiled at his exuberance and then all three men set to work.
Hang on Joss, I'm coming, and I'm bringing hell with me... John whispered to the air, and hoped somehow Joss could hear him.