"I can't watch them both, Finch" The ex-agent stands at the board with a thoughtful expression on his face, fingering one of the photos while the other hand idly strokes Bear's head. The dog sits close, leaning into the tall man and exhibiting a full blown doggie smile while enjoying the massage.
"Yes, I know. I was planning on following the balding gentleman…"
"No!" Reese replies sharply, then continues more calmly, "No…you don't need to do that. That's why you have Shaw around, remember? Let her take the guy."
Finch turns to his employee, recognizing a tone he hadn't heard much lately. Reese in this "take charge" mode depicts a mindset that the geek knows he's unlikely to change. But he tries anyway. "Ms. Shaw is busy elsewhere. And I certainly can do this. If I may remind you, it won't be the first time I've kept a Number under surveillance."
"Ms. Shaw," the ex-agent replies, emphasizing the name, "can get herself un-busy." Pulling the photo off the board he hands it to Finch as the dog huffs in disappointment at the abbreviated ear rub.
"Just tell her to get back here and get to work."
"Or she can be asked nicely and make up her own mind…"
Both men whirl around at the familiar voice as Shaw strolls into the chamber, Bear bouncing happily toward her. She cradles a Remington in both arms, fingers lovingly gripping the chassis. Was there a time when she didn't treat weapons like favorite pets? Finch is not sure he'd ever seen her do otherwise. He gives a tight smile.
Reese's reaction however, is quite different. "Wait…! Is that my AICS?"
"Was..."
She adjusts her hold in order to free a hand, which she then uses to rub the dog's ears. Bear grunts his pleasure, obviously considering one human hand as good as another. "Doesn't look like you've used it much. And anyway, I just spent a bundle on a new scope for this baby."
"So you're just confiscating it?" Reese asks incredulously, ignoring his boss who is now shifting from one foot to the other, waiting for the right moment to interject.
"You snooze, you lose..."
"No, that's not…"
At this point Finch concludes it's time to take matters in hand and steps between the two assassins, his annoyance with their squabbling visibly evident on his face.
"Ms. Shaw, I would appreciate your help with this case. We have two numbers and if you would be so kind as to keep an eye on this gentleman until we can figure out what we're dealing with…?"
Shaw looks pointedly at Reese.
"Now see? That's how you ask for help! Like a gentleman. Nice and polite."
"Shaw, if you…"
"That is enough!" Finch's voice is uncommonly stern as he limps to the copier and hands his ad hoc employee the document delivered to the tray during their exchange. "Ms. Shaw, please head to this address. I will fill you in on the details as you proceed."
The former operative accepts the paper and the photo, but her attention is on the board and its lone photo. She glances quickly at Reese who ignores the unspoken question and turns his focus on their employer. The silent exchange however, is not lost on Finch, but like the taller man he disregards it.
"Mr. Reese, I will expect you to keep an eye on your quarry as well. Until we can establish that there is a connection between the two, we'll treat these as two separate cases."
With one last look at the image left on the board, Shaw gives the dog one final ear rub and heads out of the chamber.
"Do you really think…?" Reese starts, his attention back on the board.
Finch frowns. He realizes this assignment may be difficult for the ex-op…but putting Ms. Shaw on this particular target would present a whole other set of challenges. She's not as familiar with the person's past history with the team as is John.
"I don't know what to think, Mr. Reese. We haven't connected all the dots yet. All I know is we have two Numbers and still have to determine if they belong to a victim or perpetrator."
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'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
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"Talk to me, Finch, 'cause this is just mind-numbing!"
"What is he doing, Ms. Shaw?"
The voice in her ear is as calm and precise as ever. Not that she expects otherwise; even in the most stressful situations, Harold seldom gets flustered…though there are times when she detects a strain, particularly around Root or when either she or Reese are in danger. But even then the geek has it under control.
He'd make a good aircraft controller, she thinks idly.
"Nothing. And I mean nothing." She shifts her position to glance once more into the window across from the roof top where she lays flat, scope to her eyes. "I don't know how that guy doesn't weigh 300 pounds, given his lack of exercise. All he does for hours on end is sit at that computer!"
She has spent the last two days shadowing her target with little to show for it. Actually, nothing to show for it! Their Number is fifty shades of boring…leaving his pricey apartment, walking the same route to work each morning, stopping at the same coffee vendor before entering the same building to go to the same office and sit at the same desk. And precisely at five, he will reverse the process.
Watching paint dry is more exciting.
"Then perhaps we need to get a closer look at what keeps his interest."
"My thoughts exactly, Harold." She smiles, boredom erased. "He should be leaving in about another 10 minutes for lunch in the building's cafeteria. The guy is so damn predicable! I can even tell you what he'll order if you want…"
"That won't be necessary, Ms. Shaw. Just work fast. If his job is somehow tied to the reason we were given his number, I would prefer he not be made aware of our presence."
"Don't have confidence in me to do this?" Shaw scoffs. "I'm at least as good, if not better than your guard dog. And I don't mean Bear…"
She hears Finch click off the com and smiles. Harold is almost as much fun to rattle as Reese! The geek's been in her ear for most of the morning as she made a quick sojourn into her target's living quarters the minute the man left for work. But the search revealed little of interest, other than an obvious taste for luxury - it was really a phenomenally fine apartment - and a disturbingly large collection of porn on his hard drive.
Then it was back to the roof, where she's observed exactly nothing of interest happening for the last several hours.
But now she watches closely as lunch time approaches and predictably her quarry gathers his jacket and leaves his office. She remains in her position, counting down another five minutes to ascertain he wasn't coming back.
Time to get moving…!
She returns the water bottle and scope to her backpack and ducking to keep a low profile, heads to the stairwell, thankful to being moving muscles stiff from inactivity.
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'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
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Finch terminates his call with Shaw and removes his glasses to press two fingers to the bridge of his nose. He's not particularly prone to headaches, but trying to manage these two ex agents lately is proving to be somewhat akin to corralling a couple of ADHD teens. And sometimes he wonders if the perpetually black garbed Shaw is deliberately trying to upset him, in a similar manner that John used to tease him!
Bear nudges his other hand, reminding the recluse of the appointment for their walk in the park.
"Good idea, Bear." And he rises carefully out of his chair while the dog dances around him, tapping out an impatient staccato on the hardwood floor. Sitting for hours at the computer really does a number on his hip, tightening muscles to a painful degree…so a walk is just what he needs. Besides it's time for lunch.
He limps to the file cabinet, retrieves a ball from the top drawer before grabbing his coat from the rack. Then clipping the leash to Bear's collar, the two make their way out of the library.
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''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
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"Hey, mister, it's my turn now isn't it? Tony gots to throw it first last time!"
Finch finds himself surrounded by four pre-pubescent youngsters, each vying for his attention. Evidently the social network even among children this young is very active, for what had started with a simple request many days ago to one boy to throw the ball for Bear, has resulted in several groupies now laying in wait for him whenever he walks in the park.
Though not his groupies…
"I honestly don't know, young man. So to be fair about this, I think it best you count off and start over."
"I'm one!" shouts the only girl in the bunch, putting up her hand and waving it in his face. Caught by surprise, the boys immediately chime in: "I'm two! Three…! I'm four!"
Finch hands the ball to the young girl - who immediately takes off running for the center of the field, Bear and the three boys hot on her heels.
Ah, to have that kind of energy again…!
He limps to a nearby bench and pulls the sandwich from his pocket. With a grateful sigh he lowers himself to the seat, anticipating the savory sandwich and the pleasure of watching Bear play with his adoring fans.
He had worried in the beginning that as a military trained animal, Bear might not be an appropriate playmate for young children. After all, their one and only trip to the local dog park had been a disaster as Bear had evidently considered any and all other dogs his inferior and proceeded to bully each into submission, much to the horror of their owners.
Finch was asked …and not so politely…to leave the park with his "vicious" animal.
That incident resulted in his researching further into canine behavior and discovering that dog aggression is fairly common among trained animals such as Bear. That behavior however does not necessarily translate into aggression against humans. It's simply a case that an alpha dog does not "make friends" with other canines, especially other males…but rather, expects to be treated as the boss and will proceed to take charge!
So, a trait shared by dog and master?
He smiles at the thought and is searching the brown bag for napkins when he jumps at the sound of a voice from behind.
"I think he's hiding something, Finch."
The older man almost drops the bag. John! Of course…
It never ceases to amaze - and unnerve him - as to how both his ex-operative employees have the ability to simply move from one place to another without seemingly to disturb even the air molecules around them. Like they could just disappear and then materialize from one location to another.
Beam me down, Scotty…
He's been trying to steel himself against reacting to the sudden appearance of either in an effort to conceal his own vulnerabilities, though the instinctive need to do so irritates him no end.
"I would appreciate your announcing your arrival next time, Mr. Reese. I wasn't expecting you here."
And as the ex-agent moves silently to sit on the bench next to him, "Aren't you supposed to be watching your Number?"
"I followed him all day yesterday and most of today…"
"And what makes you think he's hiding something"? Finch asks, finishing off the last of the half sandwich.
But Reese's focus has shifted to the raucous game of "keep away" being played by the dog and his human playmates. "What's going on with Bear out there?"
The older man turns his attention to the center of the grassy field. "Oh, those are Bear's groupies. They've been helping me exercise him since he really needs more than just the walks I can provide…and you've been rather too busy lately to take him running."
"Good idea, Finch!" the ex-op responds, giving his employer a rare smile.
"Yes, well…you were saying? About hiding something?"
"It looks to me like Fusco's ignoring his day job in favor of some other activities", the ex-op replies,
watching with considerable interest as Finch retrieves a half sandwich from the bag. "I've cloned his phone again and heard he got called on the carpet for missing a court date yesterday. Plus, he's making the rounds of several known street rats."
Finch pinches off a small piece of crust and tosses it to the ever present parade of strutting pigeons that daily patrol the park benches. He watches with idle amusement as the birds jostle each other for access to the morsel of bread.
"Are you going to eat that?"
Looking up he catches Reese staring at the sandwich. "Well, no…"
"Because I had to skip breakfast…"
Finch silently hands the half sandwich to his employee, then watches it disappear in just a matter of a few bites. Amazing. Bear couldn't have polished it off any faster. Another similarity between dog and master…
Dusting his hands and wiping his mouth on the offered napkin, Reese continues, "Whatever is taking up his time, it's not something within the scope of his regular job."
"Perhaps he's just a conscientious police officer following leads on a special case…" Finch offers.
The ex-agent scoffs. "Or just a dirty cop going back to playing his old tricks."
.
To be continued…
