Chapter Five: This Time
Back in the boardroom, Reese had succumbed to intoxication and was leaning forward with his head practically in his lap. He was coming in and out of wakefulness. Every once in awhile, he could hear the men arguing with one another. Then, he would lose consciousness and sleep. This pattern continued. He then awakened to hear The Macallan man making plans to take him out of there. Even though quite incapacitated, he knew he needed to use his remaining energy to fight against them.
"Cut the Zip-Ties from his ankles so we can get him to the car without raising the attention of anyone who happens to be out there," The Macallan man ordered. The Dennis Farina double took a steak knife off the table and cut through the ties. Reese's legs barely moved from their current position.
The Macallan bottle had some left in it. The Macallan man poured the remainder in a few glasses and watched to see who would lean forward to pick up a glass to toast with him. The Dennis Farina double and the Louis Vuitton man grabbed the glasses. "Gentlemen," The Macallan man toasted, "Here's to modifications of plans. Here's to our wealth. Here's to finally ridding this company of Avery Dodson."
Red-Tie felt guilty. Avery Dodson was a good man. It was at this moment that he realized how convoluted their plans were to kill this good and decent man just to take his company from him. They had spent months, the five of them, scheming and conspiring. It was all about the money. How could he have allowed himself to do this? And now, another man was about to be killed. When had he crossed the line to be a part of something so heinous? "Let's get out of here," he said softly. "I don't want to be a part of this any more."
"I believe it's too damn late for that," the Dennis Farina double laughed.
Red-Tie looked at the other men as he said, "Let's just get out of here."
"Cut the ties off his wrists," The Macallan man ordered as he pulled up Reese's sagging torso.
"I don't think that's a good idea," the Dennis Farina double stated.
While the Macallan man and the Dennis Farina double argued about whether or not to cut the Zip-Ties from Reese's wrists, Red-Tie walked over to the table and retrieved another steak knife.
He carefully pulled the ties out of Reese's flesh and cut them away from his wrists. The Dennis Farina double showed his obvious disdain for Red-Tie's actions, but both he and The Macallan man ignored him.
"What? Do you think this man could possibly have any fight left in him?" The Macallan man laughed.
Blood from the wrist wounds had saturated the cuffs of Reese's shirt. "Poor bastard," Red-Tie stated.
"Just grab his legs!" The Macallan man shouted.
"Never mind," the Dennis Farina double barked, pushing Red-Tie away from Reese. He and The Macallan man grabbed Reese and began heading to the door. "You all get Dodson. We'll put them both in the car. They can have their accidents together."
They struggled with Reese as he awkwardly tried to fight against them. The Dennis Farina double dropped Reese's legs and slammed his fist into Reese's face. He was afraid a punch in the gut would result in Reese losing the alcohol that remained in his stomach. The ricochet caused The Macallan man to stumble and drop Reese's torso to the floor.
This infuriated The Macallan man, who got to his feet and began kicking Reese in his back.
Reese could feel the impact of the blows to his back, but he was not cognizant of the pain. He couldn't figure out why he wasn't feeling any pain any longer. He rolled in an attempt to get away from the sharp toe of The Macallan man's Lucchese calf-length pony boots.
The Dennis Farina double could see the other men coming with the unconscious Dodson.
They paused when they saw The Macallan man having lost control and continually kicking at the man they had captured. Dropping Dodson in the floor, they went to The Macallan man to try and subdue him. "This needs to look like a car crash not a beat down!" the fat man yelled, grabbing The Macallan man by his arms and holding them behind his back until he could regain composure.
From outside the front doors, Carter and Fusco could see the men down in the hallway scuffling and yelling at one another. One was screaming for another to get control. Then they were quiet for a few moments, and Carter could see them turning toward the front doors. The three jumped back. "They're coming! We need to get back and see if they have John and Dodson with them," Carter instructed. The three moved quickly to their vehicle, which was parked a little ways down the street.
Reese could feel the men pulling him to his feet. His head was swirling, causing his stomach to lurch. He felt the sudden urge to vomit and decided not to hold back to rid his stomach of any Scotch that hadn't yet been absorbed in his blood stream. His stomach maintained, though, even though he felt quite sick.
Carter, Fusco, and Finch saw the men emerge from the building holding Dodson as if they were helping a handicapped friend to his car. They gingerly put him in the back seat and shut the door. Several other men came out of the building carrying Reese as if he were a drunken fraternity brother. To an unsuspecting passerby, the men seemed caring and helpful.
"Let's go now, Carter!" Fusco shrieked.
"Let's make sure they're all accounted for so we can see what we're up against!" Carter answered. "John's alive…he's alive…but we don't know what they're planning to do…where they're trying to take them."
Within moments, the Louis Vuitton man and The Macallan man got into the front seat of the vehicle Reese and Dodson were in. The other three men got into the vehicle of the car parked behind it.
"Fusco, you take down the three. Finch and I will get John and Dodson," Carter instructed. "Wait for us to pull in front of the car to stop them from leaving."
Carter pulled out and headed to the lead car carrying Reese and Dodson.
The Macallan man, sitting in the passenger side, caught sight of Carter's cruiser as she approached its side. "Go!" he yelled. The Louis Vuitton man bore down on the gas pedal and swerved past Carter, knocking into the front fender of the cruiser.
Fusco ran in front of the second car carrying three of the men and leveled his gun on the driver. "Get out and down on the ground!" he yelled at the men. Red-Tie, who was sitting in the backseat, was the first to get out and lie face down on the cold, wet sidewalk. The fat man and the Dennis Farina double accepted their fate and followed suit. Fusco called for backup to bring a cruiser to take the three men into custody.
Carter and Finch were well out of sight by that time.
The roads were wet and cold with patches of leftover snow that hadn't yet been removed. "Where the hell could they possibly be heading?" Carter yelled.
Finch new she expected no answer. He was frightened…and was certainly too afraid to analyze the situation for an answer.
The Macallan man yelled, "How the hell are they on to us?" The two men continued to argue.
Reese could hear the two men yelling over the squealing of the car's tires.
"We're looking at life for two counts of attempted murder, conspiracy, and whatever the hell else they want to throw at us!" the Louis Vuitton man shouted.
"Keep driving! We'll have to out run them!" The Macallan man retorted.
The Louis Vuitton man gripped the steering wheel and pushed his foot harder on the gas pedal as he saw The Macallan man look back at their captives sprawled out in the backseat. Both appeared to be unconscious. "The only way we're going to get out of this is to toss them out and hope the cops stop to retrieve them."
The Macallan man responded, "But they'll know who we are. You know Richard, Gerard, and Thomas will cop a plea!"
"We'll go on the lamb. We can be in Mexico before they're able to send out an APB. It's all we got, Phil!" the Louis Vuitton man shouted.
Within the moment, The Macallan man jumped into the back seat and grabbed the door handle closest to Dodson because Reese was propped against the handle of his door. Without a second thought, he pushed Dodson out the door.
Dodson's body bounced onto the pavement.
Carter had to swerve to keep from running over what was being thrown out of the car she was chasing. It took her a moment to comprehend that it was a human being. "Oh my God, John!" she yelled.
"Leave me with whoever that was and keep following the car to save the other!" Finch shouted.
Carter knew that Finch's plan was for the best. She pulled over beside the spot where the body had landed on the road. She wanted to verbalize that she hoped it was Dodson and not Reese, but she knew that such words would sound insensitive. She swerved back into the lane and began trying to catch up to the car.
Finch cautiously approached the still body lying on the side of the road. He exhaled as he saw the man's blue suit and small, scarlet bloody form. It was Dodson. He reached up and felt for a pulse. There was none. Avery Dodson was cold. With his lean body composition, he had probably been dead for a little over an hour.
Carter worked hard to catch up to the car. Hearing her phone ring, though, she carefully drew it to her ear when seeing that the number was Finch's.
"John's still in the car," Finch said.
Joss breathed in heavily and felt a surge of endorphins take over as she worked hard to catch up to the car.
"I'm coming, John. Hang in there. Okay? Just hang in there." In the next instance she saw the car swerve and then jerk back into its lane. "What the hell?" she mumbled.
John had roused enough to chop The Macallan man across his larynx.
The sudden movement and The Macallan man's inability to catch his breath caught the Louis Vuitton man off guard. He had turned around to see what was happening in the backseat only to about lose control of the car. Jerking it back into the lane, he saw his friend slumped against the door.
John grabbed The Macallan man's gun and held it against the Louis Vuitton man's temple. "Pull this damn car over," John slurred.
When the car had slowed down significantly, John grabbed the door handle and dove out the door, hitting a pile of dirty snow that had been plowed into a heap.
Almost catching up to the car, Carter saw a form dive out of the car.
Once the form was out, the car squealed as it quickly sped up to continue running away from the police cruiser. Its back door continued to swing open.
Reese lay on his stomach on the snow heap and shot at the car's tires. The bullets hit the trunk, and the car continued picking up its speed until it had quite a distance from Reese and the police cruiser that had stopped beside him.
The impact of the snow heap on John's gut felt like a punch from a wrecking ball. He was still quite intoxicated. In the blur, he thought he heard his name being called. Then, he felt someone pulling at his shoulders to turn him over onto his back. He tried to fight against the hands that were pulling him.
"John…John! It's me, Joss! John!" Carter screamed. His face was bloody and bruised, and his grey suit was tousled and torn.
John managed to get his eyes cracked open slightly. He could feel the dried blood on the side of his face and wrists, and his body ached intensely from the tasering, the punches, and the impact of it hitting the hard pile of snow.
Joss's instinct took over, and she scooped him up in her arms and held on to him tightly. She could smell the whiskey when she brought him closer to her. "You been drinking?"
John smiled broadly and responded, "Something like that." In the next instance, he gave in to the darkness.
Joss could feel him slump against her body. She felt for his pulse, which continued to beat. She then pulled him in closer, not wanting to let him go. She knew they had cut this one a little too closely. One day, she thought, she probably wouldn't be able to get to him in time. But this time, she cried, he was still alive. She felt him breathing against her neck. Stroking the back of his head, she whispered to him, "Come on, let's get you home so we can clean you up." She held onto him for a few more moments. The warmth of his body relieved her of the fears she had had. The men still in the get-away car would get theirs sooner or later, she thought. Right now she knew she needed to be with John.
John opened his eyes again and got to his feet at her physical insistence, leaning heavily on Joss's shoulders. His legs were weak and uncooperative. He struggled getting into the backseat then slid head first across the rough pleather seat until most of his body was enclosed in the car.
Joss went to the other side to pull him from his shoulders the rest of the way in. She saw him crack his eyes open momentarily to look up at her and offer a small smile.
"Thanks, Joss," he mumbled. "You're like my guardian angel." He pulled up at his eyebrows to try and get his eyes open again. His eyes were uncooperative, too. "I knew you wouldn't give up."
Carter saw him struggling. She had to smile at him calling her a Guardian Angel as he had been called the same by her colleagues when they first met. "It's okay, John. Rest for now. Okay? I'm going to take you home," she said as she went back around to the other side of the car and closed the door behind him. She got back into the driver's seat and turned the cruiser around to head back to Finch. Picking up her cell phone, she dialed Finch. "Where are you?"
"On the opposite side from where you left me. How's John?"
"He's okay…hurt…and I think drunk…but he's alive," Carter answered. "Dodson?" she asked.
"He didn't make it."
"Oh my God, Finch. That could have been John."
"I'm aware," Finch answered.
Carter looked at John passed out across the seat. She hoped he would stay unconscious while they dealt with Dodson's death. John wouldn't take that well. He hated for people to die on his watch. He hated to fail.
As she approached Finch, she could see that an ambulance was loading Dodson. The sheet was over his body and face. She saw Finch standing across the road off in the distance. Pulling her car over, she and Finch caught eyes.
Finch moved toward her car and got in. "Where's John?"
Carter could hear the concern in his voice. "He's in the backseat. He's gonna need some medical attention and lots of time to sleep off this alcohol, but he's alive. I think they tried to poison him with whiskey."
Finch turned around and saw John sprawled out in the backseat. Even though he was bloody, Finch had seen him in worse condition. There were times that Finch truly believed that John Reese had earned the title of Wonder Boy that Fusco mockingly called him. As the car continued going back down the street toward John's apartment, Finch saw the tears that Carter allowed to flow down her face. "We got him back," Finch said as he reached out to stroke her hand.
"Yep," Carter answered, looking into her mirror at Reese's battered, sleeping form in the backseat. "We got him back…this time."
Finch nervously fiddled with the grey thread from John's pants as they sped home. He knew exactly what she meant.
The End