Chapter Two: All-American Man

John arrived a good 30 minutes early for his appointment with Avery Dodson at Vestidge Securities Company. He decided to use the spare time poking around the building, sizing up the employees, and deciding for himself if Mr. All-American truly ran the All-American securities company it appeared to be. As he looked up, John could see a young woman sitting behind a desk looking at him. He smiled at her and waited for her to return the smile as his queue to approach her.

She smiled back immediately.

John walked over to her desk. "Hi. I'm John…John Hammond," Reese announced.

"Cynthia Greenfield," the young lady responded.

"I have an appointment with Mr. Dodson, and I thought I'd look around to see what kind of company this really was before I put all my money in your hands…not that they're not fully capable hands," Reese said in a soft tone as he held onto her hand a little longer than a usual handshake. He had turned on the charm, and it was working.

Cynthia blushed a little, allowing her hand to stay within his large hand. Even though the grey on his temples told her that this gentleman standing before her was older than she, she found him quite attractive. His chiseled facial bone structure, his striking blue eyes, his olive completion, and his tall stature made him look like a movie star to her.

"Have the time to show me around some?" Reese asked.

Cynthia looked back at her computer monitor. Even though she was up against a deadline to have information ready for a meeting later that evening, she wanted to make time for this handsome gentleman. Mr. Dodson would have wanted her to drop her work and help a potential client.

"Oh…okay…" Cynthia said as she nervously got up from her chair.

Together they walked around the tastefully decorated company. Employees throughout the building busily worked on their computers or talked on their phones. The Degas, Renoir, Monet, and other lesser known early Impressionist paintings perfectly framed the building, causing Reese to feel what he saw in the research earlier that day: Vestidge Securities was just as perfect as its CEO. The company appeared to be alive and vibrant. And it certainly didn't appear to have any threats lurking around.

John wasn't quite sure where to start, but at least he had Cynthia. "So, do your friends call you Cynthia?"

"No…CeCe. I know it's silly, so I don't start off business conversations introducing myself as CeCe."

"I think it's nice," John responded.

Cynthia blushed again and smiled broadly up at him, locking eye contact for a few seconds longer than she normally looked at potential clients.

"It's getting close to 2:30. I certainly don't want Mr. Dodson to think I would stand him up. Can you take me to him?"

"Certainly," Cynthia answered. She liked that Mr. Dodson would know that she went beyond the call of duty for a potential client, but she relished the time she was spending with this charming gentleman. She caught herself feeling like a giddy schoolgirl, but she just couldn't seem to help herself. Vestidge Securities Company didn't get too many gorgeous and charming gentlemen like John Hammond.

As they approached Avery Dodson's office, his secretary was sitting at her desk entering information from a stack of paper into the computer. The secretary was much older than Cynthia and appeared to be the no-nonsense type as she continued working despite the fact that the two of them stood before her. She had to at the very least have felt their presence.

Clearing her throat, Cynthia stated, "Miss Littlepage…this is John Hammond. He has a 2:30 appointment with Mr. Dodson."

"I'll buzz him. Thank you Mrs. Greenfield," the secretary responded, nodding at Cynthia and acknowledging John with a quick nod as she went back to her papers and keyboard.

Cynthia continued to stand closely to John, feeling drunk with joy as she breathed in his masculine scent.

The secretary picked up the phone and pushed down a button. "Mr. Dodson, your 2:30 appointment is here," she said, paused for a moment, and then put the receiver back in its cradle. "He'll be with you in just a moment. Please take a seat, Mr. Hammond. May I get you a cup of coffee?" she offered as she smiled at John.

Before John could answer, the secretary spoke again, "Mrs. Greenfield, is there anything else you need?"

"Oh, no," Cynthia answered. She appeared embarrassed as she nervously backed away from John.

John turned toward her and smiled. "CeCe, thank you for your time today. You have been most gracious. I'll be sure to mention that to Mr. Dodson." John reached forward and took her hand, giving it a little flirtatious squeeze.

Miss Littlepage shook her head as she thought to herself, "This foolish girl—married foolish girl— was clearly made stupid by the charms of this man."

John, too, could tell that Cynthia was attracted to him, and he needed all help he could get penetrating the perfection of this company, or as Finch would say, finding that thread.

"That will be all Mrs. Greenfield," the secretary said, stressing the Mrs. in her name.

John let loose of her hand and watched as she headed to the elevators back to her desk near the front entrance of the building. As the elevator doors opened, John watched Cynthia as she turned back to get another look at him. They both smiled at one another as if they had a secret between them.

John took a seat near the secretary's desk. It wasn't quite 2:30, and he figured he could use the time to get to know the one person at the company who was probably the closest to Avery Dodson.

"You worked here long?" he asked.

"10 years," the secretary responded without taking her eyes off the papers she was reading to type into the computer.

Looking around her office, it was apparent that Miss Littlepage wasn't married and had no close friends or relatives. Her only framed pictures were of her cats. She looks like a cat person, John thought to himself. She's probably not half as old as she looks, John continued surmising. When she got up to go and retrieve another file, John noticed that her frumpy dress made her look rotund and bland. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun with slick spray holding it into place. This one was certainly going to be a lot harder to charm, John thought. His thoughts were then interrupted by Avery Dodson's door opening up, and he saw another gentleman emerge from inside the office and shake hands with Dodson as they stood in the doorway of his office.

The two men exchanged a few more pleasantries while John got out his phone and discreetly snapped a picture of the man and sent it to Finch.

"Suspect?" John texted to Harold as the caption to the man's picture.

"Will look into it," Harold texted back.

John slipped his phone back into his breast pocket.

After the man had walked away, Avery Dodson looked down and smiled at John, who was still sitting in the chair near Miss Littlepage's desk. "Mr. Hammond?" he asked.

"Yes," John answered, holding out his hand as he stood up.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I appreciate your considering Vestidge Securities to manage your affairs," Dodson said.

"Thank you for your time on such short notice," John stated.

"It is certainly my pleasure. I hope you had a pleasurable trip from…let me remember…Maryland," Dodson answered.

"Yes," John answered. This man uses the word pleasure quite a lot, John thought to himself.

"Come on in," Avery said as he gestured his arms for John to go into his office. "Miss Littlepage, please bring us some drinks. Scotch?" he asked as he looked at John.

"Certainly," John answered. He hated to drink on the job, but he knew that it was proper etiquette for businessmen to share a drink together. He had scaled back his drinking significantly since coming to work for Finch, and he liked keeping it that way.

"Scotch," Mr. Dodson said to Miss Littlepage as he closed the door behind him.

A few moments later, Miss Littlepage brought a bottle of The Macallan single malt scotch whiskey into the office on a tray with two shot glasses.

This guy doesn't fool around, John thought.

Dodson poured two glasses and handed one to John. "Here's to a possible partnership," Dodson said as he held up his glass.

John held up his glass and took the shot in one gulp. It was smooth and warm as it ran down his throat to his stomach. He wasn't used to such fine alcohol. There truly was a difference between The Macallan and the Grant's Scotch Whiskey he used to drink when living on the streets before Finch. He had thought during that time that he would die at the figurative hands of Grant's Whiskey. But Finch had saved him.

The two men sat together in Avery's office talking about one another's life. John Hammond was equally the All-American man Avery Dodson was. Each had children and doting wives. Each was wealthy and finely dressed. Each enjoyed The Macallan Scotch.

As they chatted, John thought about how different his life could have been had he not reenlisted after 9-11. He was on his third shot of The Macallan when thoughts of Jessie seeped into his mind. He and Jessie could have had a life similar to Hammond's. Not a wealthy life, him being military and she being a nurse, but an All-American life together nonetheless.

There were times that he wished he had died.

There were times when he thought he would die.

There were times he thought he was dead.

But now, during his time with Finch, he was beginning to feel again. He was beginning to come alive again. Sometimes, he would catch himself feeling happiness again, an emotion he hadn't felt in many years.

"So, how does a man of your position get into a scuffle?" Dodson asked, pointing to Reese's injuries on his face and hand.

"Guilty pleasure," Reese answered.

"What's that?"

"Bare-Knuckle Boxing. My wife, Jeannine, hates it, but I can't help myself. Been doing it since college."

Dodson looked at John with an inquisitive look.

"I know, not the civilest of sports, but I'm hopelessly addicted to it."

Dodson smiled. "I hear you. My wife hates that I participate in the occasional mid-night bowl with the gang here."

John smirked as he tried to picture Avery Dodson renting dirty, used bowling shoes from the Brooklyn Bowl. He imagined that Dodson's wife made him fumigate his clothes and body before entering their home.

"I'm not sure which vice is worse," Reese laughed.

Dodson poured each of them another shot.

Reese was beginning to feel the affect of the alcohol. He wasn't sure how much longer he could drag out the conversation. Nothing was happening; nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Perhaps The Machine really was wrong this time.

"Why don't you join us this evening?" Dodson asked.

"Join you where?"

"Dinner meeting with some shareholders. You look like a man who enjoys meetings… especially with stiff, stuffy securities shareholders," Dodson joked.

"Absolutely," Reese answered.

"You'll get a full depiction of Vestidge," Dodson said.

Reese nodded. He needed some time and several bottles of water to get the Scotch out of his head so he could be at the top of his game.

"You weren't planning on returning home tonight were you?"

"No, I'm all yours. Sounds like a plan. Is there somewhere I can go to freshen up?"

"Yes, we have an exercise room and bathroom with shower downstairs. I'll alert the group that you'll be joining us. It will be great doing business with you, Mr. Hammond," Dodson said.

"John," Reese interrupted. "Call me John, okay…partner?"

"It will be a pleasure working with you John," Dodson said. Avery Dodson was ecstatic to have sealed the deal so quickly. Usually clients of John Hammond's caliber were longer and more difficult to get.

John could tell that Dodson was excited to have his business. He felt bad that it was all a farce. "Okay, I'll be back up in an hour." As he left, he could see Dodson getting on the phone to tell of his good fortune with the shareholders.

John sat on the bench downstairs outside the exercise room. He needed to check in with Finch but wanted his mind to be clearer from the Scotch. Going to the bathroom to wash his face, Reese thought some cold water would help. He patted his face with the water and used his hands as a scoop to sip water from them. He drank several gulps. The bruising under his eye hurt a little as he patted his face. Feeling the pain caused his mind to flash back on the man who had landed his fist under John's eye.

It was the ex-husband who turned out to actually be the victim and not the perpetrator in that case. Knowing that his job was to keep harm from the ex-husband, he exploded with rage when he learned that the man had victimized his wife for years before she filed for divorce and tried to start a new life. The ex-husband just couldn't leave well enough alone, so he casually showed up at the diner where she waitressed or the Laundromat where she washed her clothes. All she wanted was to start over, and his passive-aggressive tactics of late were unnerving to her. Whatever fate befell on him was Just Deserts as far as Reese was concerned.

Then he felt conflicted by what he knew he should do in his present role and what he wanted to do as an instinct from his previous life. He did what he thought was overall the right thing to do. Beat and threaten the ex-husband until he cried for mercy and get the woman on a bus as far away from him as possible. Reese knew that Finch didn't approve, so he told Finch to drop the subject and close the case.

Going back to the bench, Reese sat down and dialed Finch. "Any new developments?"

Finch was still tracing all leads. "Not yet," he answered.

"How about the picture I sent you?"

"That's Layton Griffen. I'm still tracking down what connection he might have to our Avery Dodson. Nothing is popping right now," Finch answered.

"So what you're saying is that we're still no closer to finding the threat than we were this morning?" Reese asked in a sarcastic tone.

"Don't worry Mr. Reese. I will uncover the thread that identifies the perpetrator. You just do your job and I'll do mine."

"I'm joining some of the shareholders at their dinner meeting here at Vestidge this evening. Have you looked into them? Yes…but did you say a shareholders dinner tonight?"

"Some of them…apparently," Reese answered.

"This is not the regularly scheduled monthly shareholders meeting, Mr. Reese."

John could hear Harold tapping away at his keyboard.

"There are a total of 17 shareholders." Finch went silent and continued to type. "Oh," he spoke after a several minute pause. I can see intersections of time at least once a month for five of them for the past nine months. Why do you suppose five of them get together without the other 12?"

John didn't answer. He knew the puzzle was exhilarating to Finch.

"I think perhaps you have just discovered the thread," Finch excitedly answered.

"I better get back upstairs to Dodson, then," Reese stated, "before the five of them get here." He turned to head to the elevators still on the phone with Finch, who was giving him the name and some background information about each of the five shareholders. As he stood there waiting for the elevator doors to open continuing to listen to Finch, he felt the electric jolts before seeing anyone or before losing his ability to stand. He likened the pain to that of being struck by lightning. As he fell incapacitated to the floor, his phone went flying across the floor, being stopped by a pair of Louis Vuitton waxed alligator black leather shoes.

The man connected to the Louis Vuittons walked up to John's back and pushed his shoe into his shoulder to turn John onto his back so he could get a good look at the man he just tasered. John could make out two forms standing above him.

"Do you know who he is?" a voice asked.

John didn't hear the answer before being tasered again and falling unconscious.

They could hear the muffled sounds of Finch's voice as he continued to shout loudly into the phone as it lay under the Louis Vuitton shoe of the man holding the Taser Gun.

Then all went silent for Finch as the Louis Vuitton man stomped on Reese's phone.

"This can't be good," Finch said aloud to himself. He then quickly dialed Carter.

TBC