Chapter Six (My Kind Of Town…)
John Reese stepped down the stately stairs, glancing up to the majestic architecture of St. Patrick's Cathedral directly behind him. He had cloned Thomas Cain's phone hours earlier and knew a planned meeting was arranged in a few minutes across the street at the Palace.
He could see the mosaic circle of reds, blues and white which signaled the entrance of the posh hotel. An eight foot wrought iron fence protected the lush landscaped façade from any would-be invaders. To enter such hallowed halls, one must have made reservations back when Columbus discovered Manhattan.
History was not one of Reese's strong points. He had visited enough countries that he could conduct a lecture of two on geography but history? It was in the past and he was a sort of..'move on from here', kinda guy.
A sleek, dark blue limo whizzed by the busy street. Madison and 50th. Right around the corner from Saks. Which reminded him, he needed a couple of new suits..and maybe even a tie. He was getting a little self-conscious when standing beside Harold Finch of late. The other man was always impeccably attired.
"The packages have arrived." He wandered the heavily packed sidewalk, across the opposite side from the hotel, a monstrosity that rose twenty-one stories high. Reese glanced up but the sun was directly overhead so he gave that notion up quickly enough, even though he sported his best ray bans today.
He waited patiently, having found a safe little nook from which to watch the people unload from the spanking brand new Lexus which had pulled up to the curb.. The car had been freshly washed and shined to perfection. Reese could see the reflection of the other cars that drove by, especially the yellow city taxis.
A few tables were still sit out in front of the steps that led to the Palace's entrance. Massive glass doors with a delicate design of birds, flowers and a garden scene welcomed the elite.
Two sprawling trees sat guard in decorative urns on either side of the opened gates, a doorman greeted arrivals and ushered them graciously into the portals awaiting.
"Harper and Cain is an old established company. One of the top three publishers in the country, the entire world, I dare say." Finch walked the length of the board he used to track their cases. A photo of Cordelia Fellows and Taylor Davidivitch held center stage. "Amelia Harper, CEO, earned her position the old-fashioned way.." Finch added yet another photo. A pretty woman of about thirty, dark hair, piercing blue eyes.
"I like her already." There wasn't much not to like, the woman exiting the auto was lovely, indeed. A small, petite brunette with enough attitude that Reese could feel the impact from clear across the street. The look she gave the chauffeur could have wilted icebergs. The guy was a little lax in opening the door for her. 'or maybe not'.. he mused. He had never liked pushy women..or unnecessarily rude ones.
"No, Mr. Reese..she 'inherited' it."
"Oh." The man shrugged, adjusting his earpiece.
"Her father, the late Lucius Harper, started in steel, back in the Forties, branching out into shipping, then turned to his interest to real estate." Finch made his way back to his desk to secure other photos. "Not so much here but he has several major holding on the West Coast..California and Washington, plus he holds the majority of stock in two major Las Vegas casinos."
"Is he as rich you, Mr. Finch..which reminds me. Can I have a raise?"
"No…to both inquires." Finch pasted another picture onto the board. "I can't find anything out of the norm in the financials of the company but if there is something to find, it would be covered well. It will take time to ferret it out."
Reese watched his marks, unfolding a piece of spearmint gum. He walked leisurely over, depositing the wrapper in a convenient trash receptacle. They dotted the landscape as far as the eye could see up and down both sides of the street. New York was determined to clean up it's image..in more ways than one.
"Thomas Cain bought into the company a few years back. Richard Harper had run the business into the red. Cain's money saved it from bankruptcy. Ms. Harper took the helm, at which time, her eldest brother stepped aside.. the stock began a steady climb."
"Good business head?"
"Change of policy." Finch returned to his desk for yet another photo. They had arrived moments ago, sent by Reese's camera phone. "Whether good or bad, is one's own personal taste, I suppose. Harper's prided itself on the quality of it's offerings, selecting only the best and brightest novelists around."
"So dear old Amelia gave the go-ahead for the slutty novels, hum." Reese watched the woman more closely. She backed up, her body language saying, someone important..even more important than herself..was about to emerge from the car. "The bain of Harold Finch's existence."
"It is not the romance to which I object." Harold put the record straight. "I am no prude. It is simply that writers today have become lazy and complacent. They 'settle' for the mundane, not to mention..American readers' tastes are not only objectionable but rather immature when placed beside the rest of the world and why we are discussing this subject is a total mystery to me."
"One man's 'trash'..is another's treasure." Reese reminded. "Another photo on it's way. There's some old guy emerging from the car." The camera clicked silently. The man hit the send button.
"Ms. Fellows has the ability to be a good writer..she chooses to churn out these ridiculous diatribes when she could apply herself, thereby.."
"So you have read her work."
"…I merely read one or two of the more descriptive passages, which alone gave proof to her underlying talent."
"Page 146 was pretty 'descriptive' as I recall." Reese leaned back onto the cold wall of the Cathedral's side entrance. "Who's the old codger?"
"Justin Bertineau, Financier and Philanthropist, of the Massachetts' 'Bertineaus'. An old established family." Finch had run the face recognition program on his system.
"Oh, THOSE Bertineaus."
The three gathered, walking abreast to the gates of the hotel "I think you will find this establishment acceptable, Justin." Amelia had taken the older man's arm and matched her steps to his slower gait.
"I enjoy a good wine, Amelia but we have more pressing matters to discuss." She was chastised. "I dislike having to leave 'Angel's Lair'. You should have closed this deal by now."
"There is an unknown factor." She explained with a deep sigh. "He came out of nowhere. We have it under control, I assure you."
"Then what am I doing here?" the guy was too shrewd, he wasn't buying it, not even from a beautiful woman like Amelia. "You do know their where-a-bouts at least?"
"We had a tracer on the subject but it was left in the apartment." The woman had pulled up short, the entrance to the hotel was just meters away. Such a conversation should not be privy to listeners. "The main directive never deviates from established routine.."
"You two plotting the over-throw of a third world country?" Thomas Cain had finally clicked off his cell, having caught up with his party. "I'm in."
"All we would really need is your money, Darling." Amelia was at her best when bitchy. "Justin and I will handle the messy part..as usual."
"Meow." Cain smiled pleasantly. "I…didn't botch the 'messy part' in this operation, Pet..YOU did."
"Enough." Bertineau put an end to the squabbling. "We are drawing attention." He motioned with his head and they continued on into the building, assisted by the ever ready doorman.
"You've managed to make a nuisance of yourself, John." Finch smiled ever so slightly. "How gauche of you."
"Tact was never my strong point." Reese admitted, his eyes never having left the trio now entering the building across the street. He sauntered forward, weaving his way between the stalled traffic of a busy weekday lunch hour rush.
The doorman smiled politely, sweeping the heavy door wide, as the man entered the warmer atmosphere of the restaurant. It was filled to capacity with it's many affluent customers mingling and talking in low, respectfully polite conversation. John removed his heavy coat, folding it over his arm.
He spotted his quarry being escorted to a table on the far left, clearly a more distinctive section where the wealthy and powerful gathered.
"Sir.." the Maitre'd had noted Reese, a serious frown fixed upon the man's rather austere features, even though a sincere, polite smile was fixed and secure as he took Reese aside discretely. A party of several high-classed business women were ahead of the tall man who was suddenly the center of their attention.
Reese smiled ..politely..at both the ladies and the greeter guy. "A problem?" he asked quietly.
"I am soooo sorry, Sir but.." the 'guy' leaned closer and Reese could smell the expensive cologne he over-used. He offered a sincere grimace, discretely..lowering his voice. "Our establishment requires proper dress." The guy looked pained. "..A tie?"
Reese glanced at his suit even as the other man had.
"I told you." Finch nodded sagely. "New York is a happening kind of town, Mr. Reese. One should always come prepared."
"James.." the obvious 'leader' of the pack of women, eyed Reese lasciviously, as did her counterpoints. "Don't be so stuffy." Her gaze swept Reese from top to bottom, slowly..savoringly. "We need a little..fresh blood in this place."
"Nothing what-so-ever 'wrong' with his mode of 'dress' to my way of thinking." Another petite blonde added coyly, smiling happily at John.
"He looks rather scrupulous to me..tie or no tie." The taller blonde chimed in. "Shirt or no shirt…" the woman placed her thumb to her lips, biting her well manicured nail, offering a rather flirtatious grin.
"Slacks or no slacks." The first added sotto voce, which brought a round of snickers and shared complimentary smiles all around.
Reese felt like he was standing naked in a display case..he kinda liked the feeling. The women smiled sweetly at him and he..smiled right back, holding their eyes easily. "Ladies..you'll have me blushing soon."
He ignored the rather snarky snort of derision from Harold Finch at that remark.
'James' sighed lightly, bowing to the majority rule. He walked back to the greeter stand producing a light blue tie with small geometric designs down the middle, which he handed over willingly. "If I may be so bold, Sir." The tie complimented Reese's darker blue shirt to perfection.
The ladies admired him while he placed the object about his neck. "..How can I repay such—kindness, ladies?" he wasn't sure that was the exact word he sought but it worked for him. He finished with his wardrobe malfunction, situating the knot of the tie perfectly just under his freshly shaved throat area.
"Join us for lunch." Was the rather well received suggestion offered up by the darker haired, older female to his right. They had surrounded him like a pack of valley girls fighting over the last pair of Jimmy Choos.
"As delightful as that sounds, I regretfully.." Reese managed to appear 'regretful' which he was, in truth. "Must meet a business associate in a very short time. It would be my honor to take care of your …"
"Needs?" The small blonde slipped her hand about his bicep, her clear brown eyes issuing an invitation. One that any man would be a fool to refuse.
"That is her version of 'foreplay'." One of the blonde's friends laughed gaily. "Buy us lunch, and we'll call it even."
"Like hell..I want his number."
Reese smiled contentedly. "Would this suffice?" he handed an richly embossed signature card over. The woman looked at it, holding it close to her breast, smiling wickedly over at him.
"Only if you answer your calls."
"Try me." He smiled, walking away. "Put their tab on my bill." He made mention, motioning to the bar area. He made his way across the dining area, sparing the women several admiring glances as he went.
Reese checked on Amelia Harper's group as he passed.
"You lucked out." Finch shook his head obtusely, rejoining the conversation. He had patiently sat, listening. "Purchase a few ties for God's sake. Would it kill you?"
Reese seated himself at the far end of the bar, away from customers, with a good advantage point for discretely watching his prey. "Whiskey, straight up." He ordered absently, for the bar tender had nodded toward him.
Justin Bertineau had waited until the server had vacated their table. "I cannot stress enough, the importance of this matter being closed as soon as humanly possible." He began without preamble. "There is no room for error. If you cannot do the job, I will assign someone more capab.."
"We can do the job." Thomas Cain assured the man in no uncertain terms. "There is no question to that. I do question the logic and necessity of eliminating two very high-profile targets who will undoubtedly be missed..the incident, investigated. Which draws unwarranted attention, Justin. Something you have always abhorred."
"That shall be my concern." The old man snapped. "I want results by tomorrow night. Is it understood?"
"Of course, Justin." Amelia soothed expertly. "When have we failed you?"
"This had best not be the first time." Bertineau was not appeased. . or waylaid. "Make the problem disappear. It is that simple."
Thomas Cain nodded. Amelia smiled tightly, both tense..on edge. "We will report to you when it is finished. Relax now and enjoy your meal."
"Yes, put the matter from your mind." Thomas advised airily, situating his napkin delicately. "Consider it over and done."
"I shall." The old man's shrewd eyes observed the two warily. "When that time arrives..and not one second before."
"..May I ask.." Thomas Cain did not get to where he was by being timid. "What it is the targets have done to warrant all this uproar?"
"No" Justin Bertineau's gaze turned to ice. "You may not."
The matter was dropped agreeably. "..Then..may I, at least..choose an appropriate wine?"
The tension seemed to ease and the meal proceeded in amiable enough good will.
Reese sipped his drink absently, the aromatic liquid sliding down his throat like hot silk. "..Remember Henry Peck, Finch?"
"All he did was ask a few questions about the Machine." Finch followed the man's line of thought. "Ms. Fellows is bringing it to vivid life in print for all to consider."
"Still think I'm paranoid?" Reese quipped.
"I know you are..never said it was a bad thing." Finch sat back in his chair, thoughtfully reposed. "Bertineau isn't supposed to be privy to the knowledge shared by the Committee which oversees the project. But, clearly..he is aware of it's existence."
Reese listened attentively.
"I cannot believe any of those in the know would leak the information to others." Finch had to believe that. "The people to which the information was entrusted were reliable and trustworthy."
"Tell that to Henry Peck." Reese smiled once again, having caught one of the former women's eye who had gotten him into the restaurant before. He raised his glass in mock salute. The woman waved his business card then placed it between the cleft of her breast, tucking it down into the fragrant valley securely. His smile grew, and he lifted approving brows, but his mind was focused and direct. "Your NSA guy, good old Ted Gibbons wasn't so trustworthy..he tried to have Peck eliminated."
"They truly believe they are protecting the United States..it's people. The greater good, John." Finch defended the Committee's position as best he was able. "You, of all people, know..the world cannot be viewed in terms of black and white. At times, difficult decisions must be made in order to maintain a semblance of control..good verses evil."
"They try to make it complicated, Finch." There was a bitter irony to Reese's voice. "But the reality of it is..it comes down to the right decision..or the wrong. It's really quite simple."
"You are not that naïve." Finch knew for certain.
"And you..Harold." Reese also knew a few 'truths'. "Are not that jaded."
Each man halted the debate, the cell at the table ringing merrily. Bertineau checked the number, arising fluidly. "I must take this." He excused himself, walking to the privacy of a secluded section of the darkly draped corridor which led to the bathrooms.
"We don't have ears?" Finch had sat up immediately, adjusting his computer to 'receive' mode but..nothing happened.
"It's blocked." Reese had tried to clone the cell but the effort had failed.
"Shouldn't we tell him?" Amelia's tone was anxious, tense. She had leaned close to Thomas Cain to confer, both watching the old man closely, as he walked through the restaurant.
"No! Let him think the worse." Cain advised tersely. "It will look all that more impressive when we 'solve the problem'." He 'quoted' with his fingers.
"But he thinks we're idiots." Amelia pointed out the obvious. "That we haven't got a back-up plan in place."
"Let him think it." Cain scoffed, a sound escaping his throat. "When we complete our part of the bargain, he will be proven wrong. He is a dying breed, Amelia.." there was a measure of contempt in the man's tone. "It's time our kind was noticed and appreciated by those in power. Besides..it does the soul good..to be wrong on occasion." He grinned, touching her cheek lovingly. "Not that I ever am."
"What if she doesn't activate it?" Amelia was still wary of Justin Bertineau's presence. The old man seemed totally absorbed in his call, however, his face taut, etched with tension.
"It is like an extension of her being..of course she will activate it." Cain dismissed the concept. "We have tested it time and again..it always connects." He waved his hand about. "Sooner or later, we will have their location. They have her secluded away. She needs quiet time. Give it a while yet. Be patient."
"What about the other one though..what if they aren't together?"
"Our friend is very persuasive..he will get her to talk."
"I don't like him. Thomas." Amelia shivered involuntarily. "He gives me the creeps."
"That is his job, Precious." Thomas laughed lowly. "It is the nature of the beast. One must associate with such creatures at times. It is a necessary evil."
"Perhaps he can deal with this new fly in the ointment." Amelia gave credence to the idea. "What does he want..who is he?"
"My point exactly." Cain was calculating, if nothing else. "The old man is into something heavy and I want my share of the pie. We have earned it..we deserve it. Whoever this new guy is, he's a player and he's getting in my way. Not acceptable."
"Whatever is going on, it's causing a big ripple in the upper echelons. We play our cards right..and maybe we'll finally get the 'in' we've been searching for." Amelia was excited now..and happier.
She sat back, smiling brightly for Justin Bertineau who was making his way back to the table.
Reese's eyes had hardened perceptively. He turned his back on the table, sipping his drink absently.
"Activate what?" Finch demanded. Ramrod straight in his chair now. "They have a tracking device on one of the women. Am I correct in this assumption, John?"
"I didn't pick up anything in the car when we came over..it could be with Davidivitch."
"No..I swept the house when I arrived.. earlier, remember?" Finch shook his head negatively. "Nothing showed on my device at that time either."
"They said.. 'she will activate it.'" Reese was racking his brain. "It's turned off. That's why we can't find the trace."
He 'activated' his own device, beginning a three way connection between Finch and himself and.. "…Carter.." he had waited for the beautiful black woman to answer. He explained the problem in concise, short terms.
Carter listened then acted. "Ladies.." she had been walking through the living area, conferring with John Reese on the new problem. She confronted the two, who were at the kitchen nook, preparing their lunch. Carter immediately turned the washer on, motioning accordingly. "there's a problem."
"We need to move them, Finch." Reese stated the obvious, arising from the bar stool. "We have everything we need from our good friends here. I'll meet you at the safe house." He arose, going to pay his bill, on the way..he smiled politely to the tableful of still interested ladies as he passed, nodding his farewell. He smiled at the several pouts his leaving caused.
"On my way, John." Indeed, the man was gathering his things even as he spoke.
Detective Carter left her earpiece on, for she could hear the activities of the two men as they made their way to their separate modes of transportation. She felt very much part of the 'team' now for Finch had given her her very own private listening device..just like the guy in the suit. But, right now? She had her own priorities.
"Ms. Davidivitch.." Carter focused on the older woman, hoping to set an example. "If you will empty the contents of your purse here on the table?"
Davidivitch stood, a butter knife in one hand, and jar of mayo in the other. Cordelia had come around the small bar, her hands full of lettuce and a loaf of artisan bread. Both looked at Carter like she had a screw loose.
"All your clothes..go in here, please..quickly." Carter pointed to the washer that was half full already.
Finch and Reese could hear the water spewing into the tub.
"Excuse me?" Davidivitch's face was incredulous.
"You want them to find you?" Carter put it on the line. "They bugged one of you..the only sure fire way to find it is a thorough search..then we make sure it's components are compromised." She jerked her head to the machine.
Cordelia was already pulling her tee over her head, shimmying out of her sweats. She threw the clothes into the water, struggling with the snaps of her bra.
"It's probably very small. You wouldn't have noticed it." Carter explained, rummaging rapidly through the items in Davidivitch's purse. "Could be the hem of your clothing..bottom of your shoe tread. Did anyone give you an unexpected gift of late.." she checked with the women. "A piece of jewelry?"
"You've read one too many spy novels, Detective." Taylor was certain.
Carter checked the lining of the expensive purse. "This is a very real threat, Ma'am." She snapped her pique. "I suggest you take it very seriously..your clothes, please!" her tone altered, as did her expression. "NOW!" she pointed to the machine..emphatically.
Davidivitch sighed heavily but..reluctantly began to disrobe.
Carter hear an annoying crackle as her connection peaked to life, the totally male chuckle jangling her nerves pleasantly.
"I like the way you think, Carter." John was approving of the turn of events, holding his ear piece very much closer suddenly. He drove effortlessly, maneuvering his powerful automobile in and out of the hectic traffic of a busy New York afternoon.
"And your cell." Carter demanded, ignoring the man and his 'tone'.
The woman balked. "Over my dead body!" she objected most strenuously.
Carter pulled her weapon, holding it out to her side. "Your call." Her expression was beyond 'no-nonsense', the dark eyes steadily trained on the other woman.
Davidivitch's mouth tightened but she stalked angrily over to the washer..kissed her beloved cell 'goodbye' dropping it into the washer with a definite 'cringe'. "Your little friend is going to reimburse me for that! It cost a bundle!"
"That is the least of your worries, Miss." Carter reminded, replacing her weapon. "Your clothes..I won't ask again."
Davidivitch threw up her hand. "What EVER!" she snapped, taking her anger out on her clothing as she pulled them off.
Cordelia was standing, nude..in the center of the dining room floor, looking lost and confused.
"The coat." Carter had seen the new garment with it's fresh tags. "Use that."
Cordelia was glad to have the cover, hurriedly slipping into the warmth of the long, calf-length apparel, pulling the belt snuggle about her small waist, tying it securely shut about her body.
Carter searched in vain for something to cover the other woman, her eyes landing on the cashmere throw on the back of a living room chair. She stepped offering the drape to Davidivitch.
"I'm not shy, Honey." Was the sarcastic response.
John Reese held his smile, pulling into a space behind a speeding Ford pick-up, taking the off-ramp to the South side of town.
"You'll be a little 'chilly' though…Sweety." Carter stated succinctly. "We'll be moving out soon."
"I have a coat upstai…" Davidivitch halted, realizing the dilemma imposed. "..Shit." She threw the throw over her shoulders.
"John..where do we go?" Carter offered her own coat to Davidivitch who reluctantly nodded her 'thanks.'
"Finch is on the way." The man replied to Carter's request, turning into the street on which the safe house was located. "Maybe we should separate them. Might be safer."
"I can take one of them to one of our safe houses..the precinct uses it occasionally."
"Appreciate it, Carter." Reese did. "But, I'll take her off your hands as soon as I get on site..two minutes, tops."
"No need..I have some time to kill. I assume you have other duties to perform, at any rate." Her attention was suddenly caught by the action of one of the women.
Cordelia grabbed her pad and pen. Carter held out a restrictive hand. "I said..nothing is to be.."
"I can't leave this!" Cordelia was stricken. "I can't!"
"She can't." Davidivitch came to Cordelia's defense. "It's her outline. It's just a damned pad of paper, for God's sake." She was incensed for what she considered stupidity on the part of a couple of freakoid captors. "Check it! Those freaking notes represent a hell of a lot of money for me.."
"Calm the hell down, Lady!" Carter raised her voice as well. "Take the pad." She informed Cordelia.. "Leave the pen."
Davidivitch..calmed. "Sure..it's always in the pen, kid.." she relaxed fully, having gotten her way. "The geek guy can buy you another one. The notes are the important thing, right?"
Cordelia nodded, unclipping the pen. Carter dropped it into the washer.
"Alright." The woman had crossed, checking the street outside the building. She recognized Reese's car as it slipped into an available spot between two white cars. One a late model chevy, the other an older Mercury sedan. "Which of you want to go with me and which with..the geek guy?" Carter found the term amusing, needling Finch a little for she knew he could hear the ongoing conversation.
"ME!" Cordelia piped up hurriedly, then shyly..blushed, averting her eyes hastily at Davidivitch's sly grin.
"She has a crush on the little guy."
"DAVY!" Cordelia was agast. "I most certainly do NOT! I…I j-just..I.."
"Looks like it's you and me, Detective." Taylor let the girl off the rack, finally. "Besides, she can do some research if she's with her role model, I guess."
"What are you talking about?" Carter was mildly amused but more..intrigued. She grabbed her sweater, her heavier coat in her car, saved for more harsh weather but a New Yorker always carried a spare. Winters were a bitch here so, one learned..be prepared.
"The sooner she gets done with this thing, the sooner I get my commission." Taylor reminded Cordelia more than Carter. "Find some time to write, sweet girl. All this excitement and 'atmosphere' should get the creative juices flowing sooner or later."
"Role model?" Reese wanted to bring the topic of conversation back to that statement, walking up the front path, taking the steps of the entrance two at a time. "Is she talking about Finch?"
"No, she is not, Mr. Reese." Finch disputed the statement, as he took the same route his counterpoint had minutes earlier. "Change the subject, please."
The conversation continued uninterrupted inside the house. Reese knocked on the door lightly tapping his knuckles, waiting for Carter to answer.
"I can't write." Cordelia was positive. "How could I? My mind is filled with the fact..someone is trying to kill us, David! How can you be so blasé about this? It's real!"
"What am I supposed to do?" The other woman had the grace to be bothered. "Shit happens. You cope..or you don't. I 'cope'." She grumbled. "It's how I operate."
The silence came.
"It's either that or..go crazy." Davidivitch stated gloomily.
"I know." Cordelia felt bad, rubbing the other woman's back gently. "..I'm sorry."
"Forget it." Taylor moved on. "Am I in immediate danger or can I go pee before we round up the wagons?"
Carter went back to the window, a half smile on her face. Finch had found a parking spot across the street. "Make it quick." Then she went to let the men inside the house.