Chapter Nineteen (Our Finest Hour?...)
Cordelia was beyond shocked. How could he have known? She had been so very careful to conceal her true feelings. Hadn't she?
She stared at the enigma before her, the wide green eyes blinking their awe.
"..What am I to think?" she defended herself half-heartedly, feeling ridiculously guilty for some reason she could not even begin to phantom. "Millie knows you! He said you were in charge of the entire project, is that not true?"
"Why even bother to inquire." Finch 'inquired'. "Anything out of my mouth is a lie to you." He spared her a withering glance. "Whatever I say will be either misconstrued or dismissed as a falsehood."
"..No." Cordelia hated his disapproval..his anger stinging her like a whip's lash. "No, I..I don't want it to be..like that, Mr. Finch. I HATE..feeling like this!" it felt so good to tell the truth again. "I HATE it!"
Finch digested her sincerity but more so, her words.
For an awful minute, Cordelia thought the man would refuse another word, that he might simply ignore her for the rest of the trip.
Finch's tone was just this side of chilly when finally he spoke, however. "..I no longer have access to the files needed to verify your Mr. Miller's credentials." Finch didn't. No one did, except those now in charge of his creation. "I don't recognize the face personally but there were hundreds of people working on the project in any number of capacities in the beginning. Each section was.." he recalled the pecking order to mind. "Compartmentalized. None knew the purpose of the other."
Cordelia listened most attentively, holding her breath, afraid to interrupt for fear he would stop talking to her but full of thousands of questions already, about to burst forth. She literally placed her fingers over her mouth to prevent such an unwise move.
"I could have walked by the man a hundred times a day and not seen him. My work was all consuming back then." Harold was sad to say, his tone conveying his regret. "It is possible my employer sought him out. Mr. Miller was brilliant in his field of endeavor."
"Not half as brilliant as…" Cordelia blurted, drawing in a sharp breath, catching her lapse too late, realizing she had..interrupted. "I am so sorry, Mr. Finch." She gulped shakily. "Please..g-go on."
Finch had not even noted, his thought processes in gear, accelerating at break neck speed. "..9/11 was a wake-up call for our Government." Harold 'compartmentalized' his tale. "they needed a system to track terrorists operations. A more efficient one. Several top Scientists, Mathematicians, Theorists..all were attempting to produce the needed product." He shrugged. "My design ..worked and we completed it ahead of the others."
Cordelia was confused about the time line. "Eh..but..what about the other one." She wondered where it all fit together. Millie had told her some of what Mr. Finch had just relayed. And then she realized..she had done it yet again. She had..
Finch's head turned ever so slowly but he was forced to give his attention back to his driving. He noted an upcoming turn off just to the right, steering his powerful automobile over three lanes of traffic, cutting off several cars who let him know how they felt about the gesture with gestures of the driver's own.
He ignored them, having floored the Escalade, whipping down the off-ramp, swerving into a half empty parking lot of a local convenience store. He pulled to an abrupt halt, putting his vehicle in gear.
He gave over his full attention, turning to face the woman, his seat belt snapped off. "..What?"
"W-What?" Cordelia was trying to follow the rapid train of events, her head swirling about this way and that. She read the 7-Eleven sign. Gas prices were so high these days.
"You said.." Harold's voice was taunt..his eyes trained on her, focused and steady. " 'What about..the other one.' The other.. 'what', Cordelia?"
She stared at him. "..The other..system?" she offered rather timidly.
Harold..stiffened then straightened slowly, digesting the implication of her statement.
"You..m-must know. Millie said.." she drifted off, his expression alarming her even though, his features were quite..unreadable.
"Mr. Miller.." Harold asked quietly, the blue eyes trained suddenly on her. "Knows..where this..system is located?"
"He says..no one knows for certain now but..originally, it was developed by the Chinese, correct?"
Harold sat back, the wind taken from his sails. He took a moment to regroup. "..How does he know this?"
"He worked on it?" she asked hesitantly. She hoped that was the right answer. "Oh..but, just certain components of it though..like you said. He wasn't sure what his part in the entire thing was." She didn't know how that made it better but maybe it did. "..He didn't know he was working for..well, he was an independent contractor at the time..so to speak." She watched the man's face carefully. "I guess that was after he ..worked for you?"
All this information was in her notes, on her pad, next to her in the seat. She could have simply allowed him read them but he was speaking to her again and he didn't seem so awfully upset anymore.
She chanced a quick glance to the paper, scooting it further under her thigh.
"Why didn't I get a number?" Harold mused to himself, suddenly suspecting, although Ms. Davidivitch and Cordelia were in danger, it seemed to him that..Edward Miller must surely be the real target of this mission. But..there had been no advance warning for the man. None.
"What?" Cordelia had heard the oddly stated inquiry but she had not understood it. "
Finch shook his doldrums. "Cordelia..you must assist me in locating your friend. This could be very important. Not only to his safety."
She downed her head instantly, the situation brought vividly to mind, her hair falling, obscuring her face. The curly blonde strands swished softly as she shook her head. A long moment passed as Cordelia weighed her options. She lifted haunted eyes. "I..don't know what to do." She just didn't. "Tell me."
She knew he would answer the obvious but she wanted to hear the words from his own mouth.
"That is a decision only you can make."
Cordelia's heart soared. "Ohhhh, Mr. Finch!" she clasped her hands together, suddenly exuberant. "..Only a man with a good heart would..say that!" she suddenly knew the right thing to do.
"Or a very deviously conniving one." He halted her intended embrace, with a restrictive hand lifted, a barrier between them. "No." he too, shook his head, his manner more than stand-offish. "That time has passed between us, Cordelia."
He hated the stricken expression which followed but he was not the sort of man to use unfair tactics to obtain a goal. "..Mr. Reese and I will locate Mr. Miller but time is of the essence. Whatever your decision.." he informed her, knowing he had probably just lost her cooperation completely. "That part of our..relationship..is no more."
He refused to lie to her. He no longer felt the connection he once had.
The words were cold and hurtful. Cordelia was utterly crushed but then, what did she expect? She was devastated, her joy of seconds before a thing of the past.
She..sat back in her seat, trying to wrap her head around all that had transpired in such a short interval. "I..see." But she didn't 'see'..not at all. If she could put aside her own doubts and mistrust. For goodness sake..she thought her very life was in danger from this..man. Millie's life..Davy's.
If she could forgive and..
Harold waited patiently for the girl to work through her emotional turmoil.
She sat, her features carefully composed. She stared straight ahead, her body tense..he noted her hands, resting upon the seat between them, one, laying on her upper thigh.
He remembered the feel of her fingers, gently stroking his body..how they moved ever so gently through his hair, massaging his scalp, raising tiny trails of ecstasy down his arms..curling into the hair of his nape.
Finch closed his eyes briefly dispelling such disturbing images.
Cordelia suddenly felt like a trapped animal, the air in the car depressively suffocating.. stagnant. She pulled at the collar of her coat, gulping in air, her brow beaded with perspiration, her body damp with sweat.
She could not breathe!
Her entire body felt as if a thousand ants were crawling under her clothes. Her skin crawled.
What was happening to her?
She..could not..breathe!
She could not take in enough air.
Instinctively, she sought escape, her hands clawing at the door handle, then..unlatching the automatic lock, scrambling to exit the car into fresh air.
Her palm flattened against the cold glass of the window and she pushed open the heavy door, clamoring out, stumbling onto the pavement of the parking lot, practically tumbling out of the vehicle.
She drew in deep, lungful's of air, her body trembling, shaking uncontrollably.
But, still..the feelings did not subside.
Finch was out of the car, making his way around the back end, realizing a panic attack when he witnessed one. He used to have them, himself..in the time directly following the accident. He would awaken, drenched with sweat, feeling dislocated from his own mind and body. But, he had learned how to control the attacks after a short time.
He could assist.
Cordelia, on the other hand, had never experienced anything of the nature, unprepared, and frightened by her body's reaction..to what? She didn't know.
She did sense Finch's approach, her panic rising to new heights. She..bolted. The very last thing she wanted was comfort from a man who could no longer stand her touch.
She still felt the admonishment of his abrupt denial of before, when she had reached out to him, still heard his casually stated rejection..which reverberated in her befuddled brain even now: "that time has passed..that part of our relationship is..no more."
She dashed across the parking lot, running from the man's presence, her body's illogical reaction to the entire situation and her own demons.
"CORDELIA!" Finch halted his steps, having just reached the tail light of the Escalade, his hand on the outer corner of the car. She did not heed his command to stop, continuing on, disappearing around the end of the building in seconds.
He stood, helpless to overtake her, cursing his physical condition. He scrambled for his phone, his fingers fumbling inside his vest pocket but then, the phone was out and he had punched the needed connection.
He stared after the woman..or rather, where he had last seen her, waiting grimly for Reese to pick up. "..Mr. Reese, there is a problem." He heard the familiar response, dispensing with niceties. "Ms. Fellows has..flown the proverbial coup, I fear."
"What?" Reese's brow furrowed slightly. "What's going on, Finch?"
Finch explained in short, succinct sentences. "I'm afraid I've bungled it rather badly." He understated, feeling his inadequacies deeply. "I should have been more..articulate."
"It's ok, Finch." Reese's confident tone served to calm Harold's own anxiety. "I'll find her. When she calms down, she'll head for Miller. We can kill two birds with one stone."
He had dropped Davidivitch off at Carter's Precinct. "I have one stop I have to make then I'll meet you at Union Park. We'll start there and fan out the search. We have untapped resources."
"What are you going to do, John?" Harold was feeling most ineffectual at that exact moment.
"Take out a couple of insurance policies but I'll put a rush on the paperwork." Reese maneuvered his vehicle in and out of the rush hour traffic of a busy New York City day, headed upstate. "In the meantime, if we can't find her, they can't either." He shrugged mentally. "It's fine..really."
"I..handled it very clumsily, John." Harold was feeling guilty, his remorse genuine. "I could have waited to.."
"Harold." Reese disliked the man's present mood. "Shit happens. We'll put this back together. Just give me a little time to get to you, right?"
Finch nodded morosely. "I'll..head for the park."
"I won't be long." Reese had already completed one part of his mission. "Stop beating yourself up. Focus on the job."
Again, Finch nodded, headed back to the driver's seat. "Just find her. She's out there alone, without protection. And it's my fault.
Reese nodded but sighed impatiently. "It is not..your fault. She shouldn't have been so stupid, Harold."
"She isn't stupid." Finch snapped then regretted it. "..Most days." Reese grinned, clicking off his device. Then he actually chucked. Whatever had gone down with Finch and his new main squeeze, it hadn't soured the other man too horribly against Ms. Coredelia Fellows, which was rather amusing if one thought about it long enough. But, he had other things with which to occupy his thoughts. He put his foot to the accelerator, speeding to his destination.
Cordelia sat, hunkered down in an alley way, behind a very large garbage receptacle. She had run until her side hurt but then, she had to stop for a while to catch her breath. The good news was that the terrible feeling she experienced in the car had lessened and she could once again, think relatively clearly.
Which is exactly what she had been doing for the past few minutes or so. The alley was deserted and she looked around trying to get her bearings. She could see, in the distance, the tall spirals of St. Patrick's Cathedral.
She was very far away from where she needed to be.
She had no money, no cab fare. What were her options?
She looked about her person. Her watch, she had dropped into that sweet Detective's washer. She glanced at the one piece of jewelry no one had noticed but..it was her Mother's ring. A simple gold band. The only thing she had left as a remembrance.
Cordelia wore it on her right hand, always had, after her mom's funeral.
She stared at it a very long time.
No. She simply would not part with that. She arose, knowing what she could part with though.
She made her way out unto the main street, walking to the end of the avenue, glancing up to the corner sign. Tall brick apartment buildings lined either side of the boulevard. Across the way was a small dress shop. To her right, a deli. The smells made her stomach roil.
She hurried down the sidewalk, looking for something in particular. This neighborhood was not the best in the world but neither was it especially dangerous. Still, she felt uneasy, hoping for a reprieve soon. If she could just get cab fare.
It seemed she had walked forever when..across the street in the middle of the block, the printing in the window alerted her, giving fresh hope. She pushed the pedestrian walk light several punches, waiting impatiently for the light to change.
She literally ran to the store front, entering the small establishment hurriedly. She stopped inside to get her bearings then.. "..How much will you give me for the coat?" she was shrugging out of the garment before she even got to the front of the desk.
A tall black man looked her up and down, a suspicious look on his face.
"I'm stranded. My car broke down and I forgot my purse at the apartment." She explained quickly. "I need cab fare but I'll be back to pick it up this afternoon. It's a very expensive coat."
She showed him the label.
"I don't know that store label." The thick Brooklyn accent was more than apparent, and the man threw up a dismissing hand. "I have enough damned coats, lady."
"Bus fare then..anything! I need to get down town!" Cordelia was frantic. "That is a very exclusive shop, up State! The coat cost a fortune..honest! I don't need much."
"No coats lady!" the man raised his voice, waving his hands in the Universal sign of 'no sale'.
-Cordelia looked forlornly to her fingers. She weighed the balance of her mom's ring or Millie's life. She pulled the ring off, offering it over. She lifted angry, defiant eyes. "You say one bad thing about this ring and I'll punch you right in the face."
The man didn't put much store in such a threat, obviously, but…he was interested in the merchandise. "14 carat." He inspected the inside carefully, reading the tiny print. "It's a small fit. What is this..size four, five? Not much call for that small a finger size."
"How much?" she snapped.
"..Fifty dollars."
Cordelia closed her eyes, knowing she was being rooked over. "WHATEVER..give me the fucking money!" she would be back tonight to get the ring. She waited impatiently while the paper work was done. She grabbed the money, exiting the store. Her eyes fell on the building across the way. A huge grey monstrosity that curved around the block.
The woman's vision swam. She felt as if she had betrayed her mother. But she knew, down deep, her mother would be the first to understand and approve of her decision.
Cordelia swallowed her misery. She went in search of a ride up town.
Harold Finch watched the scene play out on his monitor. He sat in the park, on a bench, having run a facial recognition program in order to find Cordelia Fellows. It had taken him less than ten minutes, once he had found a comfortable spot.
He watched the woman hail a cab. He had seen her in the pawn shop.
He drew in a deep, cleansing breath, glancing around the pavilion. There were hundreds of people here today. Many homeless that kept out of the way of the 'normal' people, but they were present.
He wondered if any were the person he sought. After a while, he was loathe to admit, they all began to look the same. What a sad statement..not so much for the homeless people, but those who were not in their predicament.