Chapter 7
The next morning John and Kara knocked on the door to Mark's room, ready for a morning strategy session before they went to their assignments for the day. Mark opened the door to reveal that he was not alone. A middle aged man with the face of a pug was sitting at the small table in a corner of the room. He didn't stand or offer his had for a handshake. Of course John and Kara pegged him immediately as another agent.
"John, Kara, meet Agent George Hersh. He was sent to give us an extra pair of hands on this. I've just been bringing him up to speed." Hersh exchanged barely perceptible nods with John and Kara.
Hersh. John paused briefly as he remembered where he had heard that name before. Last year, on one of their rare trips to Langley for debriefing and reassignment, the mood at the fabled CIA Headquarters had been deeply unsettled at the time. Personnel had walked quietly and spoke in hushed tones. A mission in Somalia gone terribly wrong with several casualties, and some new stars had been added to the memorial wall. The name "Hersh" had been whispered in the hallways as the man who left other agents behind to be murdered by an angry mob.
John and Hersh locked eyes, and John knew. It had all been true. A quick glance exchanged with Kara confirmed she knew it too. A man like Hersh would have no issues pumping a couple of bullets into their heads; how could he be trusted to work with them? Would he deliberately put them in jeopardy? Would they wind up like those poor agents in Somalia? Why would HQ send this man of all the available agents?
Then another horrible thought occurred to him, was Hersh here to hurt Joss? It wouldn't be the first time the CIA betrayed an ally that Control thought was beneath them. All of John's instincts, finely honed through years of combat and field work, were screaming at him to watch Joss's back very carefully. She had been right when she hesitated to work with them and John was beginning to wish she had turned him down cold. Silently, he vowed to himself that he would protect her from Hersh and the CIA. He had watched her "die" once, he would not do it again.
Mark, the good company man that he was, ignored the tension in the room and began the morning briefing. He informed them Langley had responded to his inquiry about the Sibiu lab, and they knew nothing about it. "What secrets Dragu uncovered died with him," Mark said, shaking his head, then he turned to John. "Kara, Agent Hersh and I will spend our day watching Quinn and his minions. You stay with the Queen today. She seems to trust you. Report immediately if you see anything suspicious. Keep in touch."
John nodded and turned to go. Kara walked him to the door. "Keep an eye on Hersh," John said under his breath. Kara gave him a quick nod and he was out the door.
Tony opened the door at Joss's mansion and jerked his thumb towards the back of the mansion. "She's waiting for you in the dining room."
John nodded to the vampire servant and headed for the dining room. Joss was sitting at the head of the table with her coffee. Her smile when she saw him warmed the heart he had forgotten he'd had.
"Where are Kara and Mark?" she asked.
"They, along with a new agent Langley sent last night, have got eyes on Quinn and his people. You're my assignment."
She dipped her head. "Is that all I am, an assignment?" she asked with a sly smile while looking up at him through her eyelashes.
John smiled back, A real smile, not his usual smirk. "No," he said softly.
Joss's smile grew positively radiant and didn't dim the slightest when Tony placed a large plate of eggs, bacon and toast in front of John.
"Eat up, John, we have a long day and night ahead."
John dug into the food, knowing she was right.
They were just finishing up when Tony walked in to the room carrying a box. "This was just delivered for you, boss."
Joss frowned, "I'm not expecting anything."
Tony shrugged. "Maybe some last minute thing for The Feast?"
Joss picked up a knife, carefully slit the tape, and opened the flaps. Her nose twitched as if she smelled something unpleasant and her eyes grew wide. She pulled out the paper packing and gasped, then she turned her back on the box with her hand covering her mouth. John leaped up from his chair and moved swiftly to the box, and he and Tony looked in to see what has upset her.
The head of Mike Laskey was staring up a them with lifeless eyes; a look of horror mixed with surprise on his face. John could see the blood on the packing materials, obviously what Joss's sensitive nose had smelled when she opened the box.
"Animals!" Tony exploded.
Joss turned around, composed now. "He didn't deserve this. Any of it. He didn't even want to be turned."
Tony closed the flaps of the box. "He knew the risks, Joss."
"I still feel responsible. See that his family is informed. I will of course pay for the funeral."
"Of course," Tony nodded. He picked up the box and started to walk out the door. The he paused and turned to her. "Don't beat yourself up." Then he left.
Joss returned to her seat and sipped her coffee with a faraway look in her eyes. "Laskey never wanted to be a vampire. He was a cop. He was ambushed while on patrol, he did not consent to the change."
"Yuganaov had delusions of building his own organization. He involuntarily turned a few people before I could catch him and cut him down. Laskey was one of his victims."
"So Laskey had only been a vampire for about year."
Joss nodded. "A little less. He had a fiancée. His parents are still alive. It is so hard for the new fledglings who still have strong ties back to the human world. They're not ready to give up their old life and they fight the transition. You have to be very careful with them, but Yuganaov wasn't. His transition was not handled well and I was quite frankly surprised he survived it. He hated being a vampire."
"We did what we could to help him once Yuganaov was dead. His fiancée said she still loved him and was willing to stay with him, but human-vampire relationships rarely last. He lost his job as cop, we're not allowed to be cops, firefighters, paramedics."
John nodded. "Any job where you have to be invited into people's homes."
"Yes. But that's another myth, we can walk in anytime. Laskey tried to cling to the human world, but I think he knew he would lose that battle. So he was willing to be my spy…" Her voice choked off.
John moved to place his hand over hers, hesitated, then he covered her hand with his much larger one. He felt awkward, he wasn't used to comforting anyone, but he wanted to help her. "He's at peace now."
Joss gave him a sad smile and turned her hand over so she was holding his. "Thank you."
For several minutes they stared at each other, holding hands, then John looked down and slowly withdrew his hand.
"Did you have a difficult transition?" He asked.
Joss shrugged. "I had a much easier time than Laskey. The Egyptians had killed my King, my sisters, and my love." She paused and looked at John. "I had no ties left to the human world, all I had left was my desire for revenge."
"Did you get it? Your revenge?"
"I like to think so. I was with Osorkon for a few years, but after I killed him I began hunting the Egyptians who were occupying my homeland. I became known as the Terror of Meroe because I killed so many." She smiled, fangs fully extended. "I started with the man who killed you. I killed the man who took my sword and took it back. I killed so many that Egyptian mothers would tell their children stories of me to scare their children into being good."
"That must have been satisfying," John remarked.
Joss looked down into her coffee cup. "It wasn't, actually. Everyone I cared about was still dead and I was still alone."
They grew very quiet while Joss recalled her loneliness of those years and John wished he had the words to comfort her. He knew that alone feeling all too well. Even when he was with Mark and Kara, he was, in fact, alone. He had grown used to it, but seeing Joss's loneliness tugged at his heart.
"You're not alone," John said. "I'm here now." He wondered why he said that, since he had no idea what the future held; he hadn't thought that far ahead.
"I'm glad you're here," Joss replied and smiled at him.
Just then her phone dinged, making them both jump. Joss grabbed her phone. "It's Harold, he has something for us."
Joss drove John to an expensive brownstone in a expensive neighborhood in the East Village. "This house used to belong to Nathan, Harold's partner who was killed in the Ferry bombing. It belongs to Nathan's son now, but he spends most of his time out of the country, working with the Red Cross. Harold uses it as a safe house on occasion."
They entered the mansion and walked down a short flight of stairs to the living room. Finch was sitting at the dining table, furiously typing away on a high end laptop. Shaw was was sitting across from him, hoovering an obscenely large omelet that was big enough to have it's own zip code. Fusco was siting next to Finch, sipping a cup of coffee, watching Shaw eat with a bemused expression. "Do you ever do anything other than eat?" he asked
Shaw glared at him. "You know my job is actually to shoot people. We just haven't figured out who to shoot yet."
Finch sighed. "You don't always shoot people."
Shaw shoved another piece of the omelet into her mouth. "No, sometimes I beat them up."
Finch pressed his lips together and shook his head, then turned to the newcomers. "Thank you for coming so quickly," Finch said as John and Joss took seats at the table. "I think I've discovered the nature of the threat against New York."
Everyone looked at the billionaire. "Well?" Shaw snapped impatiently.
"Biological warfare," Finch said.
"So the rumors were true, there is a lab in Sibiu!" Joss said. "I was hoping they were wrong."
"I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings, Ms. Carter," Finch said. "But I have found records of lab equipment delivered to a secluded castle outside of Sibiu going back many years. The owner of the property is listed as Dr. Helmut Oppermann, who apparently was turned during World War II. He was listed as wanted for war crimes; he experimented on concentration camp inmates. He probably turned to the vampire community to hide from authorities after the war."
"Has he been turned?" Joss asked.
Finch nodded. "He was not a young man during the war. He's well over 130 years at this point, so I think it is a safe assumption."
"Were you able to determine what exactly Drake is planning?" John asked, his laser focus on Finch.
"Not exactly, but given the nature of Oppermann's life's work, which is looking for efficient ways to kill as many people as possible at once, we're most likely looking at a mass casualty event rather than a targeted attack."
"So that makes it even more imperative we find this Drake joker," Fusco grumbled. "But we don't even know what he looks like!"
"John does," Joss declared.
Finch turned to John. "Can you identify him from security camera footage? I have pictures of several men who arrived from Romania yesterday."
John nodded. He then got up to stand behind Finch as they started paging through pictures.
However, an hour later they had done as much as they could do. "It could be any one of five men, the photos just aren't clear enough to distinguish between them."
"Can't you enhance the pictures, clean them up or something?" Fusco asked.
"These are the enhanced pictures," Finch replied. "But everyone travels with hats and sun glasses these days. Drake is a man of average looks and build, so he has little in the way of distinguishing characteristics to set him apart from the crowd."
John shrugged. "He's been doing this kind of work for several years, he knows how to blend in and avoid getting his face on camera."
"Mr. Reese has been able to narrow the field to five candidates, so I suggest we start investigating those men as quickly as possible," Finch said. "I have addresses for two of the suspects. One is staying in a Holiday Inn just over the bridge in Brooklyn, and the other is in the Hilton on the upper East Side."
"I know where that hotel is, we'll take the Hilton," Joss said.
"Your suspect is registered as Jeffery Busch," Finch said. "He's in room 1508."
Joss nodded. "Thanks, Harold. All I need to do is get John close enough for a good look, and we'll know if he's our guy. Sameen, you and Lionel take the one in Brooklyn. Try to get us a good clear picture of him for John to identify."
"On it," Shaw replied.
Joss and John left while Finch was giving Shaw and Fusco the address and name of their man. They climbed into Joss's SUV and she carefully nosed the vehicle out into New York traffic.
The car was silent for the first few blocks, until John finally spoke. "Can I ask you a question?"
Joss glanced over at him and nodded.
"How did you get the name Jocelyn Carter?"
Joss smiled. "I picked it."
"Why that name? It seems pretty far from Jossari."
"Not that far, really. One of my survival strategies through the years has been to stay as modern as possible to blend in. Part of that strategy was to change my name to something that wouldn't stand out as foreign or too old fashioned. I've used several different names over the centuries depending on my locale, but I've always tried to choose a name the was fairly close to Jossari. Jocelyn fit my needs."
"And Carter? Where did that come from?"
"Tell me John, what do you know of Robert Carter III?"
John blinked. "I don't think I know anyone by that name."
"A failure of the the history books," Joss sniffed. "He was a wealthy landowner in Virginia during the Revolution. He was friends with Thomas Jefferson. After the war, he freed his slaves. ALL of them. Over 500 souls. He did it over the objections of family, friends and neighbors. He was shunned for it. He had to flee his home and move to Baltimore, but he kept on freeing his slaves. It was the right thing to do."
"That took courage," John said simply.
"It did," Joss's voice was soft and her eyes stared straight ahead. "Once I heard the story, I knew what name I wanted to use. A name the would remind me that the right thing is often the hardest thing. A name that would remind me to do the right thing anyway."
She pulled into an underground parking garage and turned off the car. "We're here."
They got out of the car in and walked to the elevator in silence. John wasn't much of a talker at the best of times, and Joss seemed to comfortable with it. He suspected that his other self had been as quiet as he was now and she had grown used to it during their time together in Nubia.
They rode the elevator up to the fifteenth floor. "What's the plan?" John asked as they stepped out of the elevator.
"We could just knock on the door and see if he answers," Joss replied.
John shook his head. "If this is Drake, that will tip our hand. He also knows what I look like and he knows I'm an intelligence agent."
"So shoot him."
"We don't know enough about the plot against New York to kill him yet. We don't know what he brought back from that lab and we don't know if he has it with him or if he's already hidden it. We need him alive."
Joss pursed her lips. "Good point."
Just then a door opened down the hall, and with a sinking feeling John realized it was their suspect's door, and they were trapped in the hallway with nothing but locked doors. If this was Drake and he saw him…
Suddenly Joss's lips where on his. Her lips felt just as soft as he remembered and his arms wrapped around her automatically. He pulled her against his body as he lost himself in her and the kiss. He could smell Nubia and feel the warmth of the sun on his skin, even in this hotel corridor in New York. This kiss felt so right, compared to the ones he had shared with Kara. With Kara there was no tenderness, no feeling, other than power and control. This felt like coming home.
He was so engrossed in her he almost forgot to sneak a peek as Jeffery Busch walked by and gave him a cheeky thumbs up.
As the elevator doors closed they broke the kiss then stood staring at each other for several minutes. Joss's pupils were dilated and she was breathing rapidly. John knew he was too. Finally John smirked at her. "Quick thinking," he said.
Joss broke eye contact and looked down. "Thanks," she mumbled. Then she looked up at him. "Was it Drake?"
John shook his head. "No, but he approves, and so do I."
Joss stepped back and John desperately wanted to take her in his arms again. Her eyes locked with John's. "We should get back to Finch and see if he has found any of the other possible suspects." But she didn't make a move to leave.
"Yes we should," John replied. But he made no love to leave either.
John reached out an with a hand that trembled just a tiny bit, he cupped her face as she gazed up at him. He was unsure what to do next and his jaw tensed, because he knew he wanted to kiss her again but he was unsure if she would allow it.
They stood like that for another couple of minutes until the annoyingly cheerful ding of the elevator brought them back to reality. Then they turned and left the hotel.
Fusco and Shaw stepped into the elevator in the three star hotel where their quarry was registered. Shaw was wearing a frumpy maid's uniform and pushing a housekeeping cart she had borrowed from the hotel basement.
"Was it weird to relive your own death?" Shaw asked.
Fusco shrugged. "Sorta. I feel like I should be more freaked out about it, but it was kinda like watching TV. I felt the emotions, but I wasn't scared. I was mostly mad the Egyptians got the drop on us."
"I have a hard time thinking of you as a knight."
"Hey I was a good knight!" Fusco insisted. Then he started singing softly.
"Close your eyes and I'll close mine
Good night sleep tight
Now the moon begins to shine
Good night sleep tight
Dream sweet dreams for me
Dream sweet dreams for you."
Shaw looked over at him. "Good Night by the Beatles?"
Fusco chuckled. "See what I did there?"
Shaw sighed. "You were making dad jokes before you were a dad, weren't you?"
"You got something against puns?"
"No, just you."
The chime of the elevator interrupted their bickering. The doors slid open and Shaw pushed the cart out of the elevator and down the hallway. She raised her hand to knock on the door and glanced over at Fusco. Fusco gave her a nod. She nodded back and knocked. "Housekeeping!"
Fusco flattened himself against the wall next to the door so he was out of sight when the man inside opened the door a tiny crack. Shaw made a poor attempt at a fake smile, "Housekeeping," she chirped in a passable Puerto Rican accent. "I need to replace the shower curtain." She showed him the shower curtain still sealed in it's plastic cover that she had also borrowed from housekeeping.
"There's nothing wrong with the shower curtain," the man curtly informed her and started to close the door.
Shaw stuck her foot in the door. "Please! I'll get in trouble if I don't do this!"
The man hesitated, then nodded, opening the door wide for her.
Shaw stepped through and the man shut the door. Fusco moved so he could press his ear against the door. "Don't do anything stupid, Half-Pint," he whispered.
Shaw entered the bathroom and started to take down the curtain. The man watched her for a few seconds, then returned to laying on the bed and watching TV. Shaw snuck a quick peek round the corner, snapped a picture, and then texted it to Joss.
It only took a couple of minutes for the reply to come back. "John says that's him. We're on our way. We need him alive."
Shaw removed her gun from its hiding place under her apron. Quick as a cat she was out of the bathroom, pointing her weapon at the man on the bed. "Don't move," she growled.
With blinding speed, Drake rolled off the far side of the bed, hit the floor, and came up shooting. Shaw was forced to duck back into the bathroom. Drake grabbed a back pack that had been sitting on a chair by the bed and started to go out the window to the fire escape. Shaw peeked her head out of the bathroom, but was forced to pull it back in when Drake squeezed off a couple of more shots in her direction.
Drake swiftly climbed out the window onto the fire escape. Shaw stepped out of the bathroom to go after him when he suddenly reappeared in the window and fired again, this time hitting her in the upper thigh and her side. She went down and he vanished just as Fusco was able to shoot out the door lock and burst into the room.
Fusco dropped to his knees next to Shaw and immediately applied pressure to the wound in her side.
"Go after him, " she hissed.
Fusco shook his head, "If I do you'll bleed out. Finch will track him." With his free hand he tapped his earwig. "We need an ambulance, QUICK!"
"Already en route," Finch replied. "how bad is it?"
"It's bad," Fusco replied, "she's already losing consciousness."
"At least I…won't have….to listen to your…dad jokes," Shaw gasped out.
"Don't talk, I think the bullet got your lung," Fusco replied.
Shaw's eyelids fluttered closed as Fusco yelled for her to hang on.
Joss and John arrived just as Shaw was being wheeled out. They could only stand by helplessly as the stretcher was loaded with all possible speed and the ambulance roared away leaving a forlorn looking Fusco standing on the sidewalk.
Joss approached Fusco, followed by John. She laid a hand on his arm. "What happened?" she asked gently.
Fusco shrugged, still staring in the direction where the ambulance had disappeared. "I was outside the room for most of it. She went in dressed as one of the maids, he must have made her, because next thing I know they're shooting at each other. I had to shoot out the lock to get in. I found her bleeding out on the floor and the perp gone."
"She was attempting to apprehend Drake," a tired sounding Finch broke in. "I guess she thought she had the element of surprise."
"You can never surprise a man like Drake," John said. "He's been doing this a long time and he's very good. He's been giving the CIA, MI6, and InterPol the slip for years."
"Is she going to be OK?" Joss asked Fusco.
Fusco shrugged, looking utterly lost. "The paramedics didn't know, it's pretty bad."
"Hey Fusco, we need your statement," a uniformed officer called out to him.
"Yeah, be there in a minute," Fusco called back. He turned to John and Joss, "Get this guy." The he walked off to the waiting group of cops.
Joss sighed. "Harold please tell me you're tracking him."
Harold drew a shaky breath before he replied. "His phone is off and the battery has been removed, so I'm trying to track him via cameras, but all of the traffic cameras around his hotel have been disabled."
"He probably did that, we're trained to disable any cameras in the area when we're on the job," Reese said.
"Well he can't disable every camera in New York. I'm searching every camera within a half mile radius of the hotel, but it will take some time."
"OK, Harold, let us know when there is any news." She paused. "I assume you will hack hospital computers and cameras to keep an eye on Sameen?"
"Yes." Finch's voice choked on the word.
"She's tough Harold. I know she'll be fine."
"I'll be in touch." Harold cut the connection.
John looked at Joss, concern etched on his face. "Is he going to be alright?"
"He'll do his job, he wants Drake as much if not more than anyone now." She gave John a sad smile, fangs fully extended. "Harold is one of the smartest men on the planet, he is a formidable opponent. Drake can't hide forever."
John nodded. He understood. From what he had seen, Finch was a highly skilled computer expert, if anyone could find Drake, it would be him. "I just wish we knew if Drake has already set the device and where."
Joss frowned. "We can try to trace his movements now that we know which of our suspects was the right man, but that will take away from our efforts to find him, and we're running out of time."
Just then her phone beeped. Joss checked it." Finch sent us the security footage of Drake escaping down the fire escape."
"Let me see that."
Joss handed her phone over and John watched the footage. "Drake hasn't set the device, he still has it on him."
"How do you know?" Joss demanded.
"He's carrying a backpack. A backpack that was important enough to grab in the middle of a gunfight."
Joss smiled. "Now all we have to do is find him."
Poor Laskey! He got caught. I actually liked him on the show once Joss turned the tables on him and he saw how cruel HR really was. His character had some real possibilities, but he got in over his head, and paid the ultimate price for it.
Next week will be The Feast of Ambrogio!
