I'm back! This is my 46th story, can you believe it?
This fic is a sequel of sorts to my previous story "Diamonds Are Not a Girl's Best Friend." To recap that story: Alistair Wesley, from the episode Critical, returns to New York and kidnaps Joss in order to prevent John interfering in his plans to rob the Diamond Exchange of millions of dollars in diamonds. Joss escapes the cage where Wesley is holding her and Team Machine is able to stop the robbery and recover the diamonds. Unfortunately they had no evidence against Wesley that would hold up in court and are unable to arrest him. John confronts Wesley at the airport and orders him to never return to New York. This story picks up about a year after that.
I do need to throw some love at my beta, Wolfmusic218. Thank you for your help in getting this ready to post!
Chapter 1
John cheered as Taylor caught the pass and drove up the middle for a perfectly executed lay-up. Joss was on her feet screaming encouragement to her boy, even though there was no way she could be heard over all the noise in the gym as Marbury High's Junior Varsity basketball team inched ahead of their biggest rival, Cardinal Wilhelm Christian. Joss sat back down, but she was so excited over Taylor's excellent showing in one of the biggest games of the season that she was nearly vibrating. She squeezed his arm in excitement as Marbury stole the ball back and charged down the court to their basket.
John's mood grew a bit pensive as he looked around the gym. Sitting with his wife while watching the boy he considered his son play basketball for his school was so normal, so domestic. It was something he never thought he would be able to do. It was something other, more normal, people did. He marveled that he had a family that accepted him for what he was, something he would never take for granted. Something that he would fight tooth and nail to keep…
"Only you could brood in the middle of the big game!" Joss's voice cut into his reverie. He looked over her to see her smiling at him. He gave her a sheepish grin in return and turned his attention back to the game.
Alistair Wesley stood on the sidewalk outside the 8th precinct studying the brick building while ignoring the people who hurried around him. With a grim expression he muttered, "Better get to it then," and he walked confidently up the steps and into the building.
The uniformed officer sitting at the Information window eyed the well-dressed stranger approaching him. The 8th wasn't in the worst part of the city, but it wasn't in the best either, and Wesley's Savile Row suit stood out. The officer idly wondered if this were some fancy new attorney coming to bail out a client.
"Good morning constable," Wesley greeted the officer politely, turning on his considerable charm. "I was wondering if I might have a word with Detective Carter? Is she available?"
"Why, you suing her?" the unimpressed uniform responded.
Wesley smiled his most reassuring smile. "Dear me, no. I'm not a barrister. I would like to discuss a case with her."
The uniformed officer made an "um hum" noise and picked up the phone next to his elbow. He punched a couple of numbers on the keypad and waited for a few seconds. "Hey, Carter, there's some British guy down here wanting to see you. Says he wants to discuss a case. Says he's not an ambulance chaser." He paused, listening to her answer and then hung up.
"She says she'll see you," he growled. He handed Wesley a Visitor's Badge. "Keep this on your person at all times. Up the stairs, turn left."
Wesley clipped the badge to his suit coat and walked up the stairs. He turned left at the landing as directed and found himself at the entrance to an open office area with several desks, half of which were currently occupied. He spotted Carter at her desk over by the wall, with her partner Detective Fusco sitting at a desk facing her.
He strode across the room and seated himself in the chair in front of Carter's desk. She looked up and her eyes went wide when she recognized him, then narrowed to slits. "YOU!" She hissed.
"Good morning, Detective," he replied calmly. "Pleasure to see you again."
"The pleasure is all yours," Carter snarled, her voice as hard and frigid as ice. "Didn't John tell you to stay out of New York?"
"He did, but events have conspired to pull me back against my will. I assure you, my return to your city was involuntary."
"What are you doing here?" Fusco snapped as he moved to stand behind and to one side of Wesley.
Wesley turned his head to look at Fusco, being careful to leave his hands in full view on his lap. He saw Fusco's hand in his pocket. "I believe the joke is, 'Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?'"
Fusco snorted. "I ain't happy to see ya, so let's go with option one. Keep those hands right where they are and answer the lady's questions."
Wesley returned his attention to Carter, who was still staring daggers at him."I assure you I am not here to hurt you or anyone else. I am here purely out of desperation," Wesley spoke softly.
Joss looked him directly in his eyes and saw not the cold and calculating operative she had seen last time they spoke, but a desperate man. Joss regarded him carefully. She was well aware of who he was and what atrocities he was capable of. After their last encounter, Finch had researched him extensively in preparation for the day he would return. This man had stolen without remorse, tortured without mercy, and killed without conscience. He had done it all not for some noble cause, but to enrich himself. Yet, here he had dropped all pretense and was letting her see the man behind the former secret agent. She shuddered to think of what had driven such a man to desperation.
"Please," he said. "My daughter has been kidnapped and I need John Reese's help to get her back."
Wesley entered the small pub where he had first met John Reese when he had threatened Dr. Enright and her wife several years ago. Carter and Fusco followed close behind, with Fusco's hand still discreetly gripping his gun in his coat pocket. John Reese and Sameen Shaw were already sitting at a table waiting for them.
"Where's Root?" Joss asked as she took her seat.
John's jaw tightened. He still did not trust the hacker for hire, but Finch said she was reformed, so he tolerated having her around. Barely. "She's working a number we got this morning, a runaway."
"Sameen Shaw, I had heard that you had left Northern Lights," Wesley nodded towards Shaw as he took his seat.
Shaw, who was gnawing her way through a pile of French fries smothered with gravy and cheese, paused to regard the former British agent with what can only be described as a "hairy eyeball." "Who's the douche muffin?"
"Cheeky little imp, isn't she?" Wesley deadpanned.
Shaw looked like she was about to make a move when John laid a gentle hand on her arm. "Joss said your daughter was kidnapped?"
The effect on Wesley was barely perceptible, but it was immediate. His shoulders slumped just a tiny bit and he suddenly looked exhausted. John couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for the man in front of him.
Wesley reached into his briefcase and pulled a picture of a smiling young woman of college age. She had her father's blue eyes, blonde hair, and slender build. She was quite pretty in a vanilla girl-next-door sort of way.
"My daughter Theresa," Wesley said. "In an attempt to keep my personal life separate from my professional endeavors, my family uses the name Sheppard, my mother's maiden name. Theresa was a difficult child in a lot of ways, always breaking the rules, always asking why the rules were there to begin with. She reminded me a lot of me at her age,: rebellious, intelligent, stubborn, and over-confident. Despite her difficult nature, my wife and I cherished her. I am fortunate that my activities allowed me to give her everything she could want.
"Theresa has been attending Fordham University here in New York for the last couple of years, returning home for holidays and summers. She's been getting top marks and seemed happy here.
"Yesterday, an email was sent to my personal account. This account is only used for family communications, even my closest colleagues don't have it, and so the sender had to have gotten the address from Theresa. They said they were holding Theresa prisoner and would return her to me in pieces if a ransom was not paid by Friday, seventeen hundred hours local time. I immediately took the next plane to New York."
"Theresa has a small flat near the campus. I let myself in and I found this on the kitchen table."
Wesley pushed a small box over to John. John picked up the box and opened while Sam, Joss and Lionel all looked over his shoulder. When they saw what was in the box they gasped.
Nestled in the box in a bed of cotton was a severed human finger.
"These guys aren't playing around," Sam commented as she examined the contents of the box. "Pinkie finger, feminine, looks young. Could be Theresa's."
"It's a warning to me," Wesley's voice was flat and emotionless, but his hands were clenched into fists on table in front of him. "They are showing me how serious they are."
"They knew you would come," John said.
Wesley nodded. "Now you see why I need your team. You know who I am and what I do, thus you know what my enemies are capable of."
"Why Theresa though?" Joss asked. John could see the wheels turning in her head. "Surely there are easier marks. Lots of families with money send their kids to school here in New York, why pick out the child of a highly skilled and successful covert agent? There are easier pickings."
"I've thought a lot about that, Detective. I am well aware that New York is full of potential victims. I can only say that this is most likely reprisal for some action of mine in the past."
"Was there anything in the email that indicated who might have written it?"
"No, the wording was very generic."
"We'll need a copy of that email," John said.
Wesley nodded. "Of course, but I assure you I've already had some of the foremost computer scientists in the world look at it. It's a dead end."
John smiled. "Our computer scientist is better. Trust me. We'll also need the key to Theresa's apartment."
Wesley handed over the key. "What's our first move?"
"Your first move is to go back to your hotel and wait, they may try to contact you again,"
"I'm not one to wait," Wesley growled.
"I know you're not," Joss said sympathetically. "But you know as well I as I do that you're too emotionally invested in this case. I can't have an enraged father with Special Forces skills running around my city. If you want our help, you do it my way or no way."
There was an intense staredown between Joss and Wesley while the rest of the team waited patiently. Finally, Wesley's shoulders slumped. "Alright detective, we'll do it your way. For now." Wesley got up and left.
"How long do you think he'll cool his heels at the hotel?" Fusco asked.
Shaw snorted, "Two hours max. We'd better get moving before he starts getting in our way."
John held up the key Wesley had given him and turned to Joss. "Shall we?"
Joss grinned. "Like Shaw said, we better get moving."
"I'll take the World's Deadliest Midget and talk to Theresa's boyfriend and professors," Fusco grunted.
"That leaves us to search Theresa's apartment," John said as he took his wife's hand and led her out of the pub.
"Call me 'midget' one more time and I'll show you deadly," Shaw snarled at Fusco.
Fusco just grinned at her. "Come on, you know I was just busting your chops. I'll even let you drive."
"You drive a city-issued Buick, that's hardly a privilege," Shaw groused. But she snatched the keys from him and stalked out of the pub. Fusco managed to suppress his laughter as he followed her out to the car.
John and Joss let themselves into Theresa's apartment with the key Wesley had given them. "Must be different for you to use a key instead of picking he locks," Joss teased her husband as they entered the apartment.
John smirked at her. "Don't get used to it."
Joss giggled and stepped into the bedroom while John searched the living room/kitchen. She opened the closet, frowned and tapped her earpiece. "Hey Fusco, Sam, when you talk to Theresa's friends, ask if she had any sources of income and any allowance that Wesley gave her."
"What did you find?" Fusco asked.
"A closet full of designer clothes and accessories," Joss replied.
Shaw snorted. "Her old man is loaded. I'm not surprised."
Joss shook her head even though Shaw couldn't see her. "No, Theresa's a college student, not much older than Taylor. This looks like Zoe Morgan's wardrobe, not one of Taylor's friends. I know how college students dress and they don't wear Versace cocktail dresses to class. There's no reason for her to have this many designer dresses. It looks like she goes out every night to high-end bars and clubs."
"Sounds like a waste to me." Joss could hear the shrug in Shaw's voice.
"That's because you own one dress," Fusco's voice chided her.
Joss could hear Shaw's yawn. "It's a little black dress. That's all you need."
Deciding she just wasn't up to listening to another squabble between Fusco and Shaw, Joss sighed and cut the connection. She searched the rest of the bedroom, finding more high-end clothing and accessories. She noticed the bedding was expensive silk as well. Opening a drawer. She discovered a box for a FitBit.
Just as she was finishing up John walked into the bedroom with Theresa's laptop under his arm. "Did you find anything?" he asked.
Joss held up the box for the fitness tracker. "Finch might be able to track this. It's not here, so Theresa might have it with her. You?"
"I found these in a hidden drawer in Theresa's desk." He held out his hand to show her several flash drives.
"What's on them?" Joss asked.
John shrugged. "They're encrypted. They shouldn't give Finch any trouble though."
"I'm done here, let's get them and the FitBit box to Finch." John followed her out the door and down to John's car. They climbed in and John eased the car out into traffic. "
"Don't you find it strange that the Machine never gave us Theresa's number?" John asked.
Joss frowned. "That's a good point. Maybe the kidnappers aren't planning to kill her?"
John didn't look convinced. "They left a severed finger behind, that's a pretty clear threat."
"Could there be something wrong with the Machine? Another virus?"
"It's possible I guess. One thing I've learned doing this job, is that anything is possible."
They were silent for the rest of the drive to the library.
This fic is done, I'm just working on final edits. I'm really busy at work, so I'll be posting once a week. There will be 7 chapters.