Chapter Twelve (And A Partridge In A Pear Tree…)
Reese road the elevator, the soft hum of the hydraulics the only sound besides his even, steady breathing.
His hands were clasped sedately before his crotch. He waited patiently for the ride to end.
On the eleventh floor, the automatic doors dinged merrily, announcing his stop. He stepped out, the swoosh of the doors closing behind him.
The slate grey eyes scanned the corridor on either side of the lift he had just exited. A neatly lettered sign down to the left signaled his next destination. He headed for the 'stairs'.
He knew, once inside the landing, just through the faux metal door he now opened, he would be under security surveillance. The fact did not trouble him. He wanted to give a little head's up time. It seemed only fair.
Most people..probably all, Reese imagined, his gaze resting on the lens of the camera in the corner just above his head, would automatically head 'down'. The confident stare traveled the stairwell to his right. The top floor of this apartment complex was owned by Thomas Cain and therefore, off limits to anyone but the 'noblesse obliged'.
Reese had always assumed with that title, came the responsibility to carry oneself in the manner of a noble person. In his travels, he had come to realize..few who claimed the position, deserved it.
He had decided against confronting Cain at the office complex. The security was more intricately involved and here, he only had a few obstacles to overcome.
He started up the emergency stairwell, casually extracting his weapon from inside the hidden shoulder holster, to conceal, certainly, but also to flatter the cut of Reese's stylish suit of charcoal gray. A darker, more subdued black shirt completed his outfit this particular night.
He had decided to forego the tie, for this would be filed under 'informal meet and greet' in 'Reese World'..so even though he had recently invested in a few new ones..he was bare necked for this outing, his shirt unbuttoned to allow a glimpse of what Taylor Davidivitch had affectionately labeled..Seventh Heaven.
The thought made Reese's lips twitch ever so slightly, a softening of the steely glint in his eyes.
He made his way leisurely up the fourteen steps, his eyes on the metal door at the top of the next landing.
A solid, thick click announced his presence had, indeed..been noted.
His finger tightened slightly on the trigger of his weapon. A thin set, balding man with a dark scowl threw open the heavy door, weapon in hand, the steely cold eyes insolently raking the intruder into Cain's domain.
No time was wasted by either man on civilities. Reese lifted his arm, his glock discharging a well-placed shot directly into the slender man's knee-cap.
The security guard cried out loudly, his leg giving way instantly, his own weapon slamming into the landing with a sharp metallic clink, as he..himself, fell headlong down the steep incline of stairs, his frantic attempt to grip the railing, slipping with the unexpected weight behind his fall.
Reese casually stepped aside, leaning into the wall, allowing his assailant to continue on down, gravity helping greatly in his descent.
The guard crumped to a halt on the bottom landing, his groans giving way eventually to blissful unconsciousness.
Reese continued his steps, opening the heavy door with one hand, chancing a quick glimpse around the corner of the protruding wall.
A volley of shots rang out but these guys were semi-professionals, savvy enough to know, like Reese..silencers prevented a whole lot of unnecessary explanations down the line.
Reese ducked back, allowing the wild shots to snug into the opposite wall with not so much as a muffled thud.
The security personnel's footfalls were heavy, approaching rapidly. The idiot didn't even have enough sense to attempt stealth. Maybe he was just confident he had stopped the stupid guy trying to invade his territory. Reese listened intently, timing his reaction perfectly.
The large man wasn't totally dumb, stopping just short of where he hoped Reese would be.
John could hear the slide of plastic along the rough surface of the wall. The man had his weapon held aloft, the buttons of his jacket scraping along as he went.
Reese tensed his body, stepping quickly forward, his free hand latching onto the guard's uplifted wrist, his own weapon having been held low, off to the side, merely having to swing a small arc, as he tapped another round into this gentleman's right thigh..the bullet entering the soft flesh but exiting the now shattered knee bone.
He stepped over the guy, leaving him to his own self-pity, agony..awashed with blood.
It only took seconds to cross to the decorative doors of Thomas Pain's flat. Reese checked the elevator directly across from where he stood. It was silent, the doors securely shut to the outside world.
He returned his interest where it was needed, taking a deep, cleansing breath, his hand lying lightly on the ornate handle on the left side of the doors.
A little pressure clicked the door open. Reese sensed a trap so he backed off a bit, calculating his next move.
He shoved hard, executing a commando roll of sorts, just barely dodging two rather well-placed rounds where he should have, by rights..been standing.
His roll ended, as he agilely arose to one knee, weapon trained..and fired.
The last guard toppled to the expensive carpet, his head just clipping the edge of a marble sculpture of Michelangelo's 'Pieta.' Reese assumed it was a reproduction. If anyone had the original, it would have been Finch.
Thomas Cain stood off to the right, his eyes wide and vacant. He stared at the intruder into his home.
Reese was up and stalking toward the man before Cain even had time to register his shock.
He grabbed the man, his arm going about Cain's throat. He pushed the barrel with the silencer screwed on into the man's temple, holding him easily, for Cain didn't even struggle.
"You see how ridiculously simple it is to breech your defenses, Tom?" He drew the hammer back with a deadly 'click'.
Cain was a good head shorter than Reese, and far less muscular, so it was rather easy to control the situation..and the victim. Reese pushed a little harder on the handle of the glock, shoving the indentation of the barrel into the sensitive flesh of the now trembling man.
"Big and mean doesn't always guarantee..professionalism." Reese reminded, his tone soft..menacing..a gentle growl.
"L-Listen..if it's money you.."
Reese tightened his grip..painfully so, causing the man to strangle a bit, gasping for air. "You get one courtesy call…" he hit the guy with the butt of his handle, just enough to bring stars to Cain's eyes. He allowed Thomas to sink unaided, to the carpet. "One."
John waited patiently for the man to come around enough to comprehend. "..Next time..I won't be so..polite." he aimed and fired.
Cain yelled his pain, withering about in agony, holding his leg as best he could, both to stop the profuse bleeding but also, to cradle his injured body part.
"Leave Collins and Davidivitch alone." Reese advised icily. "And..I leave YOU alone."
"Jesus God! Call for help!" Cain pleaded, lolling from side to side, his face twisted with pain.
"The book will not be published." Reese continued, unhurriedly. "Try to harm them again and the next bullet will be..in your head." He fired again, shattering the other knee cap.
He left Cain, unmindful of the other man's pleas for mercy and assistance. John made his way back down the steps, going to the original elevator he had used upon entry into the apartment complex.
He exited into a busy, bustling New York avenue, cars coming and going in a town that never slept. He pulled his coat collar up, blending in time, into the sights and sounds of the city.
"Very efficient, as always, John." Finch had sat through the ordeal, monitoring his friend's activities, as was his way, instinctively keeping silent, allowing the man to do his thing. "you are free and clear of the situation?"
"In and out, Harold." Reese slid into the seat of the still warm car. "That's my motto, in a lot of things.."
"All well and good but what do we do about our good friend, Bertineau?" Finch was always one move ahead, his fertile brain actively seeking a solution to the problem presented at any given time. "He will not respond to such basic tactics, will he."
"You sound like Fusco." Reese started the engine, checking for oncoming traffic before pulling out into the side street where he had parked the car. "Not trying to get to Bertineau. I just need his cell and the address of his grandsons' school."
Finch hesitated. "..We don't use those tactics, Mr. Reese. It would put us in the same category as..those we.."
"You should know me better by now..Mr. Finch." Reese hadn't even pretended 'hurt'. "Sometimes the illusion of a threat is just as good as the actual deed but..I have other plans for Bertineau."
The silence continued. Reese's brow furrowed slightly. "You do trust me not to hurt children, don't you, Harold?" that thought, had bothered the man.
"Oh..of course." Finch dismissed curtly. "It isn't..that." his mind had been elsewhere and he glanced once again..to the half closed doorway across the hall, at length, pushing back his chair, arising stiffly. His muscles were rebelling. He had used places on his body he had not used in years this night.
He kinked his shoulders left and right, stretching his muscles with knotted fists to either sides of his back.
"Then..what?" Reese hadn't liked the sound of Harold's tone. Reading something beneath the reluctantly stated comment. He drove carefully, keeping the car just under the speed limit but flowing with traffic. He didn't want to draw attention to himself.
Finch lost his nerve at the last minute, revising his intended words. He had been standing, looking out unto the silent forest surrounding the cabin, his thoughts troubled. "..I really don't know where to begin." He tried the truth, needing to talk to someone he trusted and Reese was an experienced, mature male. Who knew the ways of the world.
Although they had never discussed such things, Harold sensed as much from the way Reese interacted with females in general. The man was never less than confident and straight forward with the gentler sex.
While Harold's experience in such matters was..lacking. He glanced back yet again, to the door across the way. The house was quiet..
"I may have…" he moved carefully, uncertain of the path he was taking. "Over stepped boundaries..tonight." Of course he had over-stepped boundaries! What an idiotic statement.
"..We can all be accused of that from time to time." Reese couldn't begin to imagine what 'boundaries' Finch meant, for he considered the man above mere 'mortal' weaknesses. But, he wanted to be supportive, his tone uncensored, calmly reassuring. "..Do you want to talk about it?"
"..Yes, actually." The answer shocked Finch. He felt terrible, had now since..the incident. "But..I'm not certain I know..how." he felt his inadequacies deeply.
John sensed how difficult it was for his friend to open up in any capacity. "You have been more than understanding of my particular demons, Harold. I can do no less for you."
Reese's non-judgmental reaction helped Harold continue, where normally, he would not have even considered sharing his doldrums. "I'm sure you've noticed a..difference in me the last few days." He would start at the beginning. "There is a reason, probably not an acceptably sane one."
Reese could hear the weariness in the man's tone. He was a little worried, not certain where this was leading.
"You've got a lot on your plate." The younger man maneuvered the car around a slower moving vehicle, his patience at an end where the other driver was concerned. He had followed the guy forever, it seemed. "I would be the last to judge or condemn." He shrugged mentally. "Which would be ludicrous..a guy like me."
Finch was touched. "..Thank you, John." He moved back to the window again, lowering his voice. He took a moment to collect his thoughts. "…You remember.." he closed his eyes, forging ahead. "Grace."
Reese did. "Has something happene.."
"No..well.." Finch drew in an uneven breath, exhaling a sigh. "Nothing bad, certainly, but..yes." he lifted his head a tad, gathering his determination. "I check on her periodically..as you know."
"I kept running tabs on Jessica even though we were supposed to sever all ties with family and friends." Reese admitted, 'getting it' where a woman was concerned.
"Did you, John?" Harold had not known that fact. "..Well, it is narcissistic at best, our behavior." That was a given. "But, occasionally, I just needed to..see her."
Reese nodded minutely, his eyes on the streets he drove. "I know." He did.
The silence came but this time, it was not an awkward one for either man.
"She's seeing someone."
Reese could hear the depth of despair in Finch's words. "..Are you sure?"
"It's high time, don't you agree?" Finch tried to make light of the subject, feeling anything but.
Reese wasn't sure what to say. A woman couldn't be expected to wait forever and yet..it was clear Finch still held a deep emotional attachment to Grace.
"I felt..betrayed, at first." The other man confessed hesitantly. "Stupid, really but there you have it." Finch accepted his fallacies. "She thinks I'm dead..why shouldn't she..move on with her life?"
Reese pulled the car into the underground parking facility, turning the key off, his mind ticking away feverishly to find a way to help his friend and employer.
"My intelligence dictates..common sense on the matter." Harold's hand went to his neckline, his fingers squeezing the bunched up nerves of his muscles, kneading methodically. "My emotional reaction has been…" he let it go, turning from the window, making his way back to his computer desk. "So..tonight, when Corde…Ms. Fellows…" no, that would never do. "…tonight…I..sought comfort..of sorts with..another."
Reese's mouth fell agape as the implications of Finch's words sank in. He sat..stunned..unresponsive..
"It was all rather innocent..at first." Harold hurried on, afraid he would lose his nerve if he didn't just get it all out, but more afraid Reese would judge Cordelia Fellows wrongly. "..Certainly so on Ms. Fellows part. She is not to blame in this..farce. I want that understood. It was I who allowed matters to..progress when, by rights..I should have.."
Finch felt as bad as he had when he had allowed himself to be sidetracked and lost Layla that day in the Library. When the baby had escaped his make-shift play pen of constructed books.
"It was..consensual, Harold." Reese asked the rhetorical question. "Where is all this guilt coming from?"
"Remorse is more apropos." Finch corrected, seating himself dejectedly. "Does it matter? It was my responsibility. At which, I failed..miserably."
He fiddled with a pen he had taken from the desk, turning it over and over in his hands.
"You are an honorable man, Harold." That much, Reese knew. "A conscientious one."
"Really, Mr. Reese?" Harold looked up quickly, a burning question hanging between them. "Then why did I allow..what I allowed?"
"Because you're also..human." Reese suspected, reminding quietly. "and sometimes..it's just really important to have some kind of..connection."
Finch listened intently to the hauntingly soulful words. One could sense the empty hollowness behind the carefully stated confession.
"To..break the cycle. The one we both live day to day..hour to hour, some days." Reese closed his eyes, his tone suddenly weary. He shook his head, his eyes listlessly searching the shadows of the garage complex. "Is it wrong? To want a little..sanity?"
Finch could only guess at the toll Reese's job and former life had taken on the man. He was hearing something in the other man's tone he just did not like.
"Are you..concerned about that, John?" he had to know. "Your..sanity?"
"..Not so much anymore, since.." Reese smiled mirthlessly. "you found me. It's..better now, Finch."
Harold nodded minutely, glad to hear it.
"Can I say something without pissing you off?" Reese asked.
"Probably not." Finch erred on the side of caution.
"I would be more worried about you, Harold.." And Reese meant it. "If you had not succumbed to Ms. Fellows..charms." He told the truth. "I know that's not what you wanted to hear."
No..that wasn't what Finch wanted to hear..nor was it what he had expected to hear.
"..I don't know how I am going to face her." God, he dreaded that upcoming moment.
"Are you sorry it happened?" Reese had to get things clear in his head if he was going to offer any constructive assistance. "There is no real depth to what you feel for..her?"
"God no!" Finch was quick to deny such accusations. "Of course I feel something for her! What man would not. She is a beautiful, intelligent young woman..thereby lies the rub, John. I am old enough to be her.."
"Discretely older brother?" Reese kept the smile from his words but his face was beaming. He was happy to hear the horror in Finch's denial which meant..the man was somewhat 'involved' ..a good sign. "But..she's just not..Grace?"
"It's not..that, either." Finch was having trouble sorting through all the emotions running rampant in his body and mind. "At least, I don't think it is. Grace and I had..four wonderful years. The best years of my life."
"And you have known Cordelia such a short time." Reese was beginning to see the situation. "Don't want to piss you off again.." he shifted more comfortably in his seat, taking his time in saying the words correctly. "Maybe Grace isn't the real problem at all. Maybe, Harold..you're afraid to let your guard down again."
"What are you talking about?"
"It..hurt. To let Grace go even though you felt you had no other recourse..to keep her safe." Reese continued. "it had to hurt like hell, and now, Cordelia has apparently kinked your armor..maybe you're afraid to let her in, thinking..it can only end up like Grace..eventually."
Finch was given food for thought.
"The truth is, Harold.." Reese reasoned it out. "Ms. Fellows knows a hell of a sight more about your life than Grace ever did, am I right? She has seen some of what we do." A fact of which Reese was not proud. "She still seems attracted to you..very much so." That seemed a given in 'Reeseland'..which brought another smile to his face. "In my book? That's a 'keeper'."
Harold mused overly long, forgetting John was on the other end of the line for a moment.
"You really tap that young ass, Finch?" Reese knew how to put matters back on track, his tone just this side of total approval.
Finch was rudely snapped back from his reverie. "Can you BE more vulgar?"
"You better check with Davidivitch on that one."
"Go back to work, Mr. Reese."
Finch..clicked off, a little annoyed but then..his memories surfaced as they had continually throughout this night.
Amazing memories..incredible ones. Titillating, irrepressible..erotic..memories.
And for once, instead of pushing them to the back of his mind, refusing access to his neat, orderly universe..the man allowed the visions free reign.