Chapter 2

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"You have no idea how glad I am that you were available at such a short notice."

Actually John Reese had a fairly good idea, considering that he had heard that exact same sentiment four times already since he'd reported to the head nurse's office not more than fifteen minutes prior.

Dutifully following the middle-aged woman - who'd introduced herself as Mrs. Monica Greenburg - down the carpeted hallway past several doors leading into rooms on either side, Reese smiled politely as she half-turned to throw him a more-tired-than-grateful smile.

"We usually manage to tide over personnel shortages with our own in-house staff," she continued to explain, still walking ahead at full steam, "and while I'm usually not prone to paranoia, I swear tonight the universe has conspired against me." Monica dryly chuckled at her own words.

Knowing that the universe definitely had nothing to do with her staffing problems that night, John adopted an innocent look. "Unlucky coincidences seem to always occur at the most inconvenient times."

"Isn't that the truth," muttered Mrs. Greenburg under her breath before they finally stopped in front of a double door at the end of the hallway. "Here we are." She turned to face John, clutching the clipboard that she'd been carrying tightly against her chest. "I thought I'd introduce you to the residents on your floor first while they are all still in the dining room. Makes them easier to hunt down."

John nodded and made use of his polite smile again. He was beginning to like the petite woman and her deadpan way. She flashed her tired smile again and pushed open one side of the double door.

Beyond the door lay a moderately-sized room that had been divided into two sides - a dining area with two tables each with a capacity for six persons on one side, and a recreation area with a big television, sofas and a few more tables on the other. All the chairs around the two larger tables were currently occupied by a group of - mostly - happily chatting gray-haired or bald-headed seniors, who were in the process of enjoying what looked and smelled like tomato soup.

Reese's and Mrs. Greenburg's entrance was pretty much ignored by the group. Only the two nurses catering to the seniors spared a second to send a nod of greeting their way. Immediately John began scanning the room in search of the face of their Number, and found Louis at the second table apparently intently focusing on his spoonful of soup.

Monica cleared her throat as they stopped at the first table, however she didn't really achieve a notable reduction in the chatting and cluttering of cutlery. At the head of the first table sat a group of ladies, and at least one of them had taken notice of their arrival as she was unabashedly giving Reese a once-over through the thick lenses of her spectacles. John's discomfort-level immediately skyrocketed as the wrinkly smile of approval the woman was sending his way turned unmistakably lewd.

"Ladies! Gentlemen! May I have your attention, please?" Mrs. Greenburg spoke loudly and clearly, and finally achieved the feat of almost all twelve faces turning nearly simultaneously to look at both her and John. The expressions varied from annoyed to curious and the few heads that hadn't at first reacted followed suit after being nudged by the person with better hearing sitting next to them.

Finally having the residents' undivided attention the head nurse propped her clipboard on the table in front of her and regarded her patients with a smile. "I'm sorry to disturb you during your dinner, and I promise I will be quick. This is John," she said, turning slightly to indicate the man beside her, "our temporary staff member for tonight."

Reese found himself under the scrutiny of twelve pairs of eyes, but judging by the heavy squints on some of the faces he figured that to most of them he probably was nothing more than a white-blueish blur. "Good evening," he rasped.

The woman who had been eyeballing John before chuckled and clasped a cold and arthritic hand around his wrist. "Oh dear boy, you have to speak up if you want old Meyer over there to hear you."

The women around the head of the table burst into giggles and Reese had to force his polite smile to stay in place. He heaved a mental sigh of relief when she let go of his wrist again and joined her friends' giggling.

"Anyway," Monica continued, "John's going to be helping Max get you all ready this evening, and he'll also be on call during the night. So don't be alarmed if a strange face should be looming over you tonight. He's not here to kill you."

There were a few chuckles and snorts around the tables. Reese had his eyes on their Number, who seemed to be the only one not appreciating Mrs. Greenburg's levity. He missed the suspicious glare that Louis sent his way as he looked down at his wrist. It was once again caught in the vise-like grasp of the lady with the thick glasses.

"You know, young man," she drawled with a suggestive smile and a wink, clearly enjoying making their temp-nurse uncomfortable. "You, my boy, can give me my sponge bath anytime."

"Ehm," Reese croaked, as his shocked brain halted all thought process for a moment. The table erupted into schoolgirl-like giggles again, while John fought to keep his mind blank. I might just have to kill Finch after this.

Monica sighed like a person who had to put up with the antics far too often and hunkered down besides the woman's wheelchair. Gently yet firmly, she dislodged the gnarled hand from around John's wrist, and returned it to the chair's armrest.

"Gracie," said Monica with friendly firmness in her voice, while softly patting the woman's hand, "behave yourself."

"Don't I always?" Gracie replied with a long practiced What?-Me?-look, and Mrs. Greenburg smiled at her with an expression that held more warning than amusement, before straightening herself and addressing the group in general again. "Ladies. Gents. Enjoy the rest of your evening. I'll be seeing you all nice and bright in the morning."

Monica indicated with a shake of her head for Reese to follow her, which he gladly did. After a few steps - far enough away to be out of earshot - she leaned to her left and conspiratorially whispered, "They are worse than my teenage daughter and her friends."

John followed her out into the hallway, silently wondering what exactly getting the residents ready for the night would entail. Actually he wasn't entirely sure if he even wanted to know. Was it too late to plan an exit strategy in case his duties did indeed involve sponges?

Within the few minutes it had taken Monica to introduce John to the residents the previously empty hallway had acquired two laundry trolleys standing right smack in the middle. The doors on each side of the corridor were open, and Greenburg headed straight for a door on the right. "Max!"

Max, who was busy pulling the sheets from a single bed, was young - not more than 25 - muscular, and he sported a huge, friendly smile directed at Mrs. Greenburg that made the skin around his cheeks dimple. "Good evening, Mrs. G. You still here?"

"Yes, unfortunately. We had a bit of a staff crisis."

Max's eyes immediately fell on Reese, and he paused in his endeavor of removing the old bed sheet from the mattress. "Hugo and Stephen are both unavailable tonight. But we were lucky, and the temp agency sent John here to help us out," Mrs. Greenburg explained.

John's first impression of the young orderly was that - despite having the outward appearance of an anabolic-steroid-addicted bodybuilder - the light in the kid's head was far from dim. He might have to be careful around him. Sticking out his hand across the mattress to shake the other man's hand he rasped, "Hello. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," said Max with a genial smile.

Monica checked her wrist watch. "I'm sorry, but I really have to get going now. I hope you don't mind me dumping John on you like this, Max?"

"No, not at all."

"Thank you!" She then turned to Reese and shook his hand once more. "Thank you again for helping us out."

"Just doing my job," replied John with his best friendly and sincere face - even throwing in a small, lopsided grin for maximum effect, which earned him a truly bright smile this time.

"Have a quiet night, you two."

Let's hope not, John thought, watching her go and feeling more out of place than ever. He had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to be doing now.

"You can go ahead and take care of the beds across the hall," said Max. He had taken up his battle with the sheets again, and was now clearly on the winning side. "Old sheets go in the right cart, and the new ones are on the left."

That sounded easy enough. It also gave Reese a very good excuse for snooping around and bugging their Number's room, which - if he remembered correctly - was on his side of the hallway. Picking up a set of fresh sheets from the cart John slipped into Louis Candrall's room and tapped his ear. "Finch, you there?"

"Always, Mr. Reese," replied Finch immediately.

"Any new insights as to why we received Candrall's number?"

"I'm afraid not. But I hacked the center's computer system and I think you'll be pleased to know that sponge bathing is not part of you shift." Reese could hear the amused smile in Finch's voice, and his own lips twitched into a smirk. "You know, Finch," John said, adopting a lighter tone, "I would do practically anything you ask me to do, but if it had come to this ... I might have had to quit."

"Yes, thank God for small favors," replied Finch dryly, before turning back to business. "I gather nothing has come up on your end either?"

John let his eyes wander over the room. It didn't look like a hospital or your standard generic senior housing room. The windows were framed by tasteful drapes that matched the friendly yellow painted walls. The walls were adorned by various paintings Reese was sure even Finch would appreciate. There was a chessboard - the pieces in mid-game - on a small table with two comfortable looking chairs set underneath the window. The window itself offered a nice view of the quiet and well-kept green interior courtyard. The small bathroom attached to the room was handicapped-customized and clean - as was everything else Reese had seen so far. If it weren't for the standard hospital bed and other subtle additions - like the oxygen connector on the wall at the head of the bed - the room could be easily mistaken for an upscale hotel room. Even the thread-count of the bed sheets seemed to be higher, speaking of greater quality. Add to this the top-notch private medical care advertised by various diplomas and certificates displayed around the reception area, and Reese estimated that the rent charged to live at a place like the Harmony Health Center must be pretty steep.

"I haven't encountered any obvious signs that would help point us to whatever has your Machine's circuits all in knots," John murmured while placing a small camera inside a bouquet of fake flowers, "but I am wondering how Louis can afford living in an establishment like this on a plumber's salary."

"That is a good question, Mr. Reese." John could hear Finch typing away on the other end of the connection - delving even deeper into their Number's finances. Having finished bugging the room, Reese started to liberate the pillow from its case.

The typing stopped. "Huh. This is odd," murmured Harold in his ear and then the typing continued.

Reese waited for Finch to elaborate while pulling the sheet over the mattress tight enough so a coin would bounce off its surface. Eventually he softly prompted, "What is it, Finch?"

"It seems like Mr. Candrall planned ahead and set up a retirement fund from which he's receiving a sizeable monthly payment - enough to cover all expenses."

John shrugged. "That doesn't seem too odd."

"At first I'd agree with you, but it seems the retirement fund is actually a cleverly set up dummy-account, and by retracing the money movement I found out that it originates from a private and anonymous account on the Cayman Islands."

"So, there is more to Mr. Candrall than meets the eye."

"It appears so," agreed Finch. "Let's see what Detective Fusco can come up with. Until then ..."

"I will keep an eye on him," finished John, and gathered up the used linen. He took one last look around the room before going back out into the hallway only to find that Max was already working on his third room, and that he had better hurry it up. Dumping the old laundry in the designated trolley John picked up a new set of fresh sheets. Five more rooms to go.

This could turn into a very long night.

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To be continued...