Chapter 18

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Finch and Bear arrived at the alley forty-five minutes after he had lost contact with Mr. Reese. He was still able to pick up John's phone's GPS signal, which hadn't moved since the loss of contact. He had also been able to re-establish a connection to the phone, but it had only yielded silence and a black screen when he'd turned on the camera. Harold knew the chances were great that he'd only find Reese's phone where David had dropped it, but lacking any other concrete leads to his employee's whereabouts this was his best shot. He couldn't see any reason why Sheffield's men should have taken Reese with them. They had come for Giardino, not John. But the prolonged silence from his friend was more than unsettling, making Harold fear the worst about John's fate. Dead people can't change their minds ...

To Finch the traffic on his way here had felt particularly congested, and with every second he'd spent not moving towards his destination his worry for his friend grew - to the point where he'd even started yelling at the other drivers.

Bear, who would usually have had his nose stuck to the window, was quietly lying on the backseat. With his ears pulled back, he uncertainly eyed his smaller human as the tension in the car grew with every minute.

Harold parked the car a few blocks away from John's last known position. As much as he wanted to start looking for his friend right away, the voice of paranoia in his mind urged him to caution. He forced himself to walk at no more than a leisurely pace, trying to convey the impression of being a man out walking his dog.

Glancing at the display of his cell phone every ten seconds, he watched the two dots on the screen getting closer and closer until he was standing at the entrance of an alley. The dots had converged into one and Harold stopped and looked around. It was already dark outside and as far as Finch could tell there was no one to be seen - either on the streets or behind the windows of the buildings around.

Pulling out a flashlight the hacker entered the alley, moving the light from one side to the other. About halfway into the alley his flashlight's beam reflected off a glassy object on the ground. Stiffly getting down on one knee with Bear at his side, Harold picked up John's phone. Its display was cracked, but despite the obvious attempts at destroying it, it was still in working order.

Finch pocketed the phone and got back onto his feet. He let the light swipe over the alley walls and ground. Once he had done a 360-turn Harold's hand holding the flashlight sank to his side and he just stood in the empty alley, feeling lost. There was no further sign of Mr. Reese or what might have happened to him.

What now?

Bear was getting restless at his side, licking his chops and emitting a sound between a bark and a yelp. "Maybe you'll have more luck," Harold said, looking down at the anxious dog. "Bear, where's John? Zoeken!"

The Malinois' nose went immediately to the ground, sniffing in the dirt, discerning between all the different smells and filtering out his alpha's scent which he had picked up traces of earlier.

Bear circled around a spot near one of the walls a couple of times, then he started leading Harold out of the alley and down the street for a couple of yards before stopping at one of the cars parked on the street. Sniffing around some more on the ground, Bear got onto his hind legs and started to claw and bark at the trunk.

Ordering the dog to stand down, Harold bent his torso towards the trunk. "Mr. Reese?" he asked and listened. There was a thump against the car's trunk lid from the inside and he heard a muffled yet familiar voice. Harold had never imagined a sound more beautiful. "Thank God," he breathed, and fumbled in his pockets for something to open the trunk.

His hands were shaking as he came down from the adrenaline rush and it took him a couple of minutes to get the lock to do his bidding. Eventually the lid sprang open and the dim trunk lighting revealed John Reese tied up and with a hood over his head, but most certainly still alive.

Harold pulled off the black hood and ungagged John. "Are you alright, Mr. Reese?"

"I'm fine," John said. "They didn't hurt me," he added at Finch's worried look. "Just stuffed me in the trunk."

"I'm so very pleased to hear that." After untying the ex-op, Harold helped John climb out of the trunk, which had been way too small for a man of Reese's height.

"Giardino?" John asked while stretching out various kinks in his back.

"Securely in Mr. Sheffield's hands, I would assume."

"Okay. Do we have any idea where he could have been taken?" Harold looked at John. Even in the bad lighting he could see that his face was too pale - where it was not covered in cuts and bruises. The lines around his eyes had deepened as even the dim light from the few street lights seemed to be bothering him. Yet as long as the mission wasn't over Harold knew the ex-agent would work and keep his body going until he'd drop from exhaustion.

For any other Number Finch would have probably sent Mr. Reese out again tonight. He'd feel guilty about it, of course, but he knew that John would agree that saving an innocent life was more important. However, Michael Giardino was hardly an innocent soul.

"No, we don't," Finch said in reply to John's question. "And we are also not going to." Reese turned to look at him with a surprised and questioning look. Harold knew that he was toeing a line that he'd sworn never to cross. By allowing Richard Sheffield to exact his revenge he was condemning Michael Giardino to death. Judge, jury and executioner by proxy.

Harold sat down on the rim of the open trunk, looking down on the ground. "He had his chance," he said, then looked up at Mr. Reese, "to walk away. Instead he came back to kill. And as much as I would like to see Mr. Giardino stand trial for the atrocities he committed, I am not willing to let you risk your life again for that man." He swallowed. His headache was starting to become more than a dull ache and if he was honest with himself he had to admit that he was exhausted - both physically and emotionally.

"So, this case is over?" John asked and Harold nodded, expecting an argument. Instead he watched the tension escape Reese's body. His shoulders sagged and with a sigh he sat down besides Finch. Bear sidled himself between his two humans, leaning his body against John's long leg.

They sat in silence for a few moments, as Reese gently scratched Bear's head. "Do we consider this outcome a failure or success?" John asked softly and Finch twisted his torso to look at him as he considered the question.

Eventually he opted to choose neither option. "It's been a long day and we're both exhausted," Harold said. "Let me take you home."

John nodded and let himself be helped to his feet by his friend. With the tension of the mission gone his body was sending damage reports to his brain faster than it was able to process. Painkillers, several ice-packs and rest - in exactly that order - sounded more than wonderful right about now.

With a matching limp to Finch's uneven gait, John walked beside Harold and Bear. "What a day, huh?"

Finch snorted. "Tell me about it."

"Let's not repeat it."

"Yes. Let's not."