Chapter Thirteen (A Swell Time Was Had By All…)
"Hello, Mr. Bertineau. Sorry to bother you so late at night, but this is important."
"..Who is this?" the old gentleman was not a happy camper. "How did you get this number?"
"Who I am, really doesn't matter." Reese's voice was controlled..a silky rasp of it's former self. "Perhaps you had better listen to what I have to say, however."
"I don't really care what you have to.."
"I'm standing across from the United Presbyterian Church.." Reese admired the structure from his advantage point. "Lot of people here tonight. Your grandson, Tyler, seems to be enjoying the school's 'Fall Festival' activities. The kid has a definite future in baseball with that throwing arm."
John watched the young boy collect his prize for knocking down several metal milk bottles at one of the small booths set up around the parking area, spilling into the opened doorways of the huge church and lining the halls of the sacred building. "You must be proud."
Reese stepped closer to the noise of the make-shift 'county fair' atmosphere. He wanted Bertineau to hear and recognize his present location. Carnival like music blared over the large speakers set up at various advantage points throughout the crowded parking lot. "Very festive here tonight. It's a perfect night..not too cold. The kids are having a good time."
"..If you so much as harm one hai.." hate dripped from the other man's shaky voice.
"This..coming from the man who ordered the deaths of two young women." Reese did not suffer idiots easily. "I'm not wearing the black hat here..you are." He spoke succinctly. "Save the empty threats. You and I both know what I am capable of. Surely you've heard from your minions, Cain and Harper by now..oh..wait.." Reese corrected himself. "Our Ms. Harper hasn't made an appearance, has she."
The line was silent. Which meant the old guy was considering all his options.
"Do you think I haven't made provisions for cretins like you?" his voice literally shook with contempt. "My grandsons are monitored twenty-four/seven. If you bothered to look around, you'll note two rather surly looking private security…"
"You mean Abbott and Costello?" Reese permitted a tiny smile. "They are..indisposed. Laying down on the job, so to speak."
Terror filled the mind of Justin Bertineau. "W-What do you..want?"
"Take a look at your portfolio, Mr. Bertineau." Reese suggested. "..Check your stock investments..the 'Hedge Fund' account, if you will. I'll wait. I'm rather enjoying the atmosphere here."
"I can pay you whatever you…"
"Are you certain? Best not to make any hasty promises you might not be able to keep." John baited effortlessly. "Check the account, please."
Bertineau's fingers shook as he opened his computer system, going to the correct address. He drew in his breath through clenched teeth, reading the balance of his once lucrative investment.
"The funds have been transferred. I imagine you'll soon be receiving a very nice 'thank you' card in the mail. I choose a very fine charitable organization. Don't bother thanking me, I was happy to do it. Should garner you some pretty good P.R. don't you agree?"
Surely Finch would not begrudge him stealing a little of the computer genius' thunder in this case.
"You see? I am beginning to know your weaknesses. I'm going to make it my life's ambition..to know all there is to know about you, Mr. Bertineau." John's tone implied, 'he' could deliver on that promise.
"Amanda Collins..Taylor Davidivitch." Reese stated the terms of his deal in precise, deliberated brevity. "Anything happens to them..it will happen to someone you love. Choose two family members..."
"W-What?"
"You choose them..or I do." Reese shrugged his well build shoulders. "At least I'm giving you that. Two people you care about. If Collins or Davidvitch are harmed in any way, shape or form..I'm talking accidental drug over- doses..car wrecks..a tragic mishap on holiday, say...anything which ends their existence." Reese stopped for emphasis. "I will visit upon the people closest to you, what you and your..associates visit upon my friends. I think the Bible calls it…an eye for an eye."
The silence was quite a contrast between the gaiety of the place in which Reese stood.
"The book will not be published." John wanted that perfectly understood. "Collins doesn't even know why she is being targeted..but I will make her awar.."
"Don't give me that! She knows everything..I've seen the synopsis!" the old man sounded his age suddenly. "I didn't order this..it comes from higher up. Do you think I actually enjoy..what they tell me to do? Your friend is endangering the lives of countless thousands of.."
"Yeah, I've heard the speech before." Reese cut the tirade short. "What…are you talking about?"
"She knows dates and times and events..how does she know all that information if she is as innocent as you claim?" Bertineau changed tactics mid-sentence. "Look..I can try to reason with my people. Give me some time to.."
"You have two hours." Reese didn't want anyone 'regrouping'. "I will find Collin's source. I will deliver him/her to you if they present a threat. Otherwise..the deal stands."
"..How can I get in touc.."
Reese clicked the burner phone off. He would toss it beside the roadside on his way home.
The new information was disturbing but he would get to the bottom of the old man's accusations.
He thought about contacting Finch but he hesitated. He sensed the other man had a lot of things to ponder this night. Reese could handle the situation that had arisen without disturbing his employer. It's why he got paid the big bucks, after all.
Still, he was determined to get a good look at Amanda..Cordelia Fellow's original treatment she had sent to Davidivitch.
Something wasn't adding up right here. He had work to do.
Harold Finch pushed back from his desk chair. He needed some tea. He was getting groggy. He glanced at the computer screen before arising. Two Twenty- Seven in the morning.
He automatically went to check the parameter of the cabin, from his advantage point of the upper deck of the home. He walked to the East and West windows, then, satisfied all was quiet, he went for his tea.
It wasn't that he didn't trust his 'home made' security system constructed earlier in the day. He was, by nature, a cautious man.
He glanced over, on his way down the sturdy stairs, his hand on the wooden banister. He pulled up short, his right foot on the second step, his left, not even having left the upper landing.
Cordelia's bed was empty. He could see the rumbled covers thrown to the end of the bed. His heart jump started, his pulse reacting violently.
Harold rushed to the room, throwing wide the door.
The woman looked over, from her place by the window.
Harold..breathed a sigh of relief, his body relaxing from the adrenalin rush of seconds before. "Do NOT.. DO that!" he reprimanded, coming further into the room, his mood altering a bit. He studied the girl carefully, picking up on..something indefinable. "…Can't you sleep..still?"
Cordelia didn't answer, just returned her profile to the darkness outside the window. She had a small shawl about her shoulders, her feet bare on the hard wood floor, one leg propped on the window seat edge, her knee supporting her weight.
Harold couldn't help but note how fetching her calf was..bare, sculptured, braced against the seat. She still wore his shirt which showed quite a bit of thigh. He remembered how alluring her flesh felt under his fingertips.
He cleared such thoughts. Standing in the center of the room, he felt rather foolish now. Perhaps he should have..knocked.
"..Did you hear something?" he chanced a closer step, glancing out into the darkness himself. The yard below was empty. Everything seemed alright from his point of view. "What's going on?"
He stepped behind her, seeing what she saw. The patch of elms swayed precariously in the strong breeze but all seemed..fine.
"..I couldn't see anything even if it existed." The young woman sighed, her hand releasing her hold on the window curtain, allowing it to fall into place. "..I'm nearsighted. I left my glasses in the apartment."
"Whaaat?" Harold was upset. "Why didn't you inform me. I will have Mr. Reese go immediately to fetc.."
"NO!" she turned abruptly, her tone almost..shrill. "Don't send him to that..awful place!" it had not been a request. "I don't want to ever go there again…EVER! And I don't want anyone else to.."
"Alright." Harold's calming tone served it's purpose. "But..you can't run around without prescription eye wear. We'll have to see what can be done about replacing your's..WITHOUT.." he interrupted her intended tirade. "Returning to the apartment."
Cordelia..settled. "..I can…see." She frowned attractively, squinting hard at the yard below. "…Sort of."
Harold smiled, but soon his unease returned. Being in such close proximity with the woman brought back..his time with her..before.
He cleared his throat self-consciously, wondering where to go from here.
"It..doesn't matter, you know." Cordelia's small, child-like voice drifted back, as did her scent. A scent he had been attempting to forget these past few hours.
She turned slowly, the emerald eyes uplifted to his questioning ones. Harold could not find it in himself to dismiss or ignore her. He allowed another smile, his tone gentle and patient when he spoke. "What doesn't matter..aren't you cold?"
He glanced down at the shirt which he was suddenly loathe to note..was entirely unbuttoned. She had wrapped it about her small frame, holding it closed with her arms crossed over her breasts. The shawl did little more than cover her shoulders. A portion of the white cotton gaped, showing the flat of her stomach and a patch of the blue panties which he had simply..moved aside, before..as they had been in his way.
"Grace." Cordelia's eyes were clear but..troubled. "..Whatever you feel…for her. It's..alright."
Finch had stiffened, instinctively closing himself off. Shit! Finch rarely resorted to profanity..but when it was called for..it was called for. She had heard his conversation with..John?
"I will take whatever it is.." she moved..closer. "you wish to give. I won't ask for anything..more. I give my word to you, Mr. Finch."
Finch read the sincerity in her eyes, the green pools melting any resolve he had managed to muster.
Cordelia religiously searched the vivid blue eyes, hoping to find something the clear, guarded orbs refused reveal.
Acutely disappointed, she turned back around, refusing to allow him see her growing distress. She could not reach him. She would never be able to..reach him.
The realization filled her with dread. She glanced back at him, unconsciously transmitting her doubts in the saddened eyes.
Harold Finch knew what the woman was asking, albeit silently. He knew he wanted to sooth her anxiety over the matter, but..
"..What..happened between us, Cordelia." No, that wasn't the way to go, judging from the sudden apprehension he read on her face. He halted immediately, seeing her face. The damage was done. She had gotten his drift. She turned her head back to the window, saying nothing.
"Not that I did not.." No. Too little, too late. He had hurt her. Something he never wished do.
He took a moment to rethink his priorities and the situation.
But, Cordelia had been forced to move forward, her pride dictating nothing less. She straightened her form, her head lifting proudly. "I understand what you're..saying." she spoke in a husky whisper, that sent shivers up and down the hair on his arms. He shook the sensation. "..It happened and it shouldn't have." She nodded her head minutely. "Perhaps we should simply move on. I won't mention it again."
The woman was dying inside. But he would never be privy to that fact.
"..I think I will try to sleep now."
It was his cue to leave, of course.
Well, Finch had gotten what he wanted. He slowly retraced his steps to the door, his head hung dejectedly. She had handled it better than he had expected, for which he was grateful but at this time..he simply was not ready to..
He turned, looking back at the small figure.
Moonlight streamed into the window, framing the golden blonde hair like a halo.
She appeared an illusively ethereal creature, her beauty astounding him.
Golden curls of silky fluff cascaded down her back, hugging her shoulders lovingly. His shirt covered the slender frame but showed just enough of the tempting cleavage, the creamy tanned thigh..to whet a man's appetite.
Only now, Harold knew what lay beneath the cotton fabric. He had touched her flesh. He had..felt her warmth..and other pleasant things.
The soft shawl draped her body romantically. She reminded him of an Eighteenth Century beauty stealing a walk in an English garden with the dark of night surrounding the angelic form.
His decision was made even before he realized. The depressive weight which had descended upon his soul lifted like an early fog on a Scottish moor.
He didn't even recall retracing his steps but suddenly, he was very close beside her, his gaze skimming the lush beauty of the gorgeous sun-kissed curls.
Finch reached..curling one long strand about his index finger. The texture and beauty enraptured him.
He felt Cordelia stiffen but she remained silent.
So many things rushed through his head..so many. He did not know how to choose an acceptable beginning so he plunged in without preamble.
He continued to play with the strand of hair, concentrating hard on what he was trying to convey. "..The ..accident, left me with many..injuries." a strangled half-laugh escaped his lips. "As you probably have noted." Who could not, after all, he mused. But the story had to be told if she was to understand his reasoning. "My leg..my hip." He lifted a half-shrug. "My back gives me fits." He could have gone on. "They tell me, I was fortunate to have survived at all."
Cordelia's breath escaped her body. She turned quickly about, her eyes large and empathetic. "Don't say that!"
Harold's eyes softened a bit and suddenly he could not look at her and say the things he needed her to hear. He peered over her head, looking at the scenery outside the window. "Since the day I was released from..the hospital. No one else has ever seen.." he let it go. "I hired a male nurse during my convalescence."
Cordelia thought perhaps, the man hated emotional women but..she hurt for him. She bit the inside of her lip to halt it's tale-tell trembling. "I wish I had been there..with you."
He snapped his eyes to her face. "What an incredibly stupid thing to say. You would have died." His tone scalded her. He turned aside..it was too difficult..sharing. He truthfully was rethinking his earlier..
"I wouldn't have allowed it!" that much he did know.
"I wouldn't have left you!" she snapped right back.
Harold processed the sullenly stated proclamation. He had searched out the stubborn set of her features, the defiant green eyes, the adorable pout of conviction. "No..I dare say, you probably would not have."
The silence came.
Cordelia watched the man's thought processes, marveling at the very essence of restraint he exuded..always. Already, he had dropped back into his 'controlled' mode. Nothing seem rattle Harold Finch's world. Always so self-possessed, sure of his decision in life..never second guessing himself. Or at least that is how he seemed to the girl.
Part of her resented the fact. A larger part, admired it. At this particular moment, she just wanted to slap his arrogant face.
He felt her stare, turning one of his own on her. "..What are you thinking?"
She merely looked aside but he noted a distance between them still. He found he disliked the realization.
"I am reluctant to share my body with anyone..still. I am ashamed of it." He stated bluntly. "I don't want you to..see..the scars."
To his amazement, the woman rolled her eyes, pushing past him, headed for the bed. "It isn't your leg I'm interested in, you idiot." She had never heard such a stupid statement. But, she had kept her voice very low, speaking only to herself..she thought.
At first, Harold was shocked by the carelessly stated vulgarity and then..he was not. Holding his need to laugh right in her pretty little face.
He allowed a throaty, low chuckle finally feeling on more familiar ground with the woman.
Cordelia pulled up short, glaring at him..then, realizing the reason for his brevity..blushed profusely.
"Well!" she hurriedly defended herself. "That is just..stupid! You stupid man, you! Nor can it be the real reason you.." this time she thought before she spoke, halting her train of thought instantly.
"Refuse to share your bed?" he asked quietly..too much so, his stare branding her with an inner heat.
Cordelia's blush deepened and she floundered helplessly, searching in vain for some witty repartee. Her brain failed her miserably, however.
"I have..shared your bed." He reminded politely. "Of..sorts."
"What does that mean?" she was incensed by his all too superior attitude and..and his..insinuation.
"That is the subject we are bandying about, is it not?" he needed clarification, pushing his luck. "If not..feel free to slap my face."
He spread his hands in a 'go for it' gesture.
Cordelia offered a 'gesture' of her own. One she had seen Taylor Davidivitch offer to a few overly rude construction workers a couple of weeks prior.
Harold's eyes twinkled mischievously. "You can take the girl out of the street.." he secretly approved of her 'spunk' but his attitude suggested otherwise. "But you can't take the 'street'.."
"Ohh, Shut UP!" she yelled at him. "Eat me!" another quaint Davidivitch saying came to mind.
"I had planned to do so." He soothed expertly. "You chose another route."
She..gasped. She was getting good at it. "THAT was an EXPRESSION..that's all!" she could not believe he had misconstrued such an obviously innocent remark.
"A rather pleasant one." He conceded. "So much for foreplay on your part."
Again she ..gasped, even more indignantly, were that possible. "You are purposely being vulgar!"
"I wanted to hold up my end." He nodded regally, his tone rather bored.
"No..you are being impossible. You are trying to divert the issue by refusing to discuss it. How dare you think I would care anything about your injuries! Do you think so little of me?"
"and if the situation were reversed?" he debated artfully.
Cordelia..blinked, unprepared for such a question. She suddenly realized…she would NOT want him to see her if she were..
Harold seemed to read her mind. "Then my decision is a sound one after all..yes?"
"NO!" she objected..strenuously but, she knew her case was a weak one after such a ludicrous response. She stared hopelessly at him. "…No." she pleaded for his assistance. He would know how to fix this. He would know the answer.
Harold Finch..knew the answer. He could, indeed..fix this.
The man moved forward slowly, holding the emerald eyes willfully.