"So." Joss struggled to think. "They could be victims. Or perpetrators. Or one of each. Or maybe even both at the same time."
"Yes." Harold gave a little sigh. "But, Joss, please don't be offended, I just have to ask. Do you think John could possibly be involved somehow?"
She sat motionless. "That's a good question." Surely not? John was a good man, he didn't do that kind of thing any more. But his family was a big black silence. He hardly ever discussed them with her. He'd mentioned his parents once, but she'd never heard of this cousin and she'd assumed all his grandparents were long dead.
She shook herself. "Family – and John – is the common denominator right now. But there might be something else which links the two of them."
"But he hasn't been acting strangely lately?"
She shot Harold a glance. "Well, he gets up in the middle of the night and vanishes without explanation. And he comes back with these strange injuries. Oh yes, and he takes mysterious phone calls and talks aloud to someone no-one else can see-"
"Yes, thank you Detective." Finch wasn't amused.
"The short answer is no. It's been business as usual ever since Samaritan... died." She sat thinking. "Finch, I can't bring myself to believe that John is a threat to either of these men. Not knowingly. But he left his family behind for a reason. I'm not sure we should tell him about these Numbers. Not yet, anyway."
Finch nodded slowly. "I had reached much the same conclusion myself, Detective. I think we need more information before we involve John. I'll ask Ms Shaw to keep an eye on McKay and we can send Fusco out to Queens to check on Mr Harris. I'll see what else I can find out about them. You see if you can get any background information out of John."
She shook her head ruefully. "I'll try, Harold. But John only ever reveals what he wants to."
"A former Army interrogator can do it if anyone can."
"Huh. He's wise to all those tricks."
"Well, Joss," said Finch, rising and picking up his laptop in its bag, "you will just have to use your feminine wiles."
Xxxx
As he made his way along the crowded street, Finch took a deep breath and called Detective Fusco. "Detective, I have rather a delicate job for you," he said.
"Yeah? You ever have any other sort for me, Glasses?"
Harold ignored this. "We have information that an elderly man in a retirement home in Queens is about to be attacked. I was wondering if you could-"
"Sure, sure. So what's so delicate about that? Sounds like business as usual to me."
"It's made a little more challenging by the fact that the gentleman in question is apparently bedridden and receiving hospital care. You'll need to use subterfuge to get close enough to him to protect him."
"Huh. Well, I'm sure I can think of something."
"But there's another thing." Finch hesitated a long time.
"Glasses? You still there?"
"Yes, yes," Harold sighed. "The truth is, detective, the man's name is Henry Harris, and he's John's grandfather."
There was a silence from the phone. "Does John know about this?"
"No," admitted Finch reluctantly.
Another silence. "You really wanna think hard about keeping this from Tall, Dark and Stormy. I've seen him pissed with you for keeping stuff from him, but if he gets wind of this-"
"Yes, I'm aware, Detective," said Finch crisply. "As soon as I have more information I fully intend to talk to John. But in the meantime-"
"Yeah, yeah. In the meantime you're gonna leave me staked out like a goat. Just you make sure you give me time to get clear if he goes apeshit on you and decides to come charging over to talk to Gramps." Fusco sounded aggrieved. "It doesn't take Sigmund Freud to realise John's family is like a toxic waste dump. He never goes near it."
Finch sighed. "He's certainly chosen to keep that part of his life veiled in silence, Detective. We'll try to handle this as discreetly as we can."
"See that you do," said Fusco, and ended the call.
xxxxx
Joss joined John for lunch downtown, since he wasn't doing anything else. The day was warm, so they picked up sandwiches and made their way to Central Park. There was a bench in the sun overlooking the Lake, and they settled down. After a few minutes of munching Joss gathered her courage.
"I've been thinking about the wedding, John."
"Oh yeah?" He paused in his chewing and raised an eyebrow at her.
"Yeah. We haven't set a date yet."
"No. I didn't want to push you while you were recovering and getting settled back in at the precinct."
"Ah." She took another bite of her sandwich.
"So do you have an idea?"
"Yeah. I was thinking New Year's Day."
"It'll be cold. Cold as hell, actually."
"True. But I was thinking about the symbolism. New beginnings, and all that."
He seemed to be considering this. "Yeah. Okay. I can see that." He took another bite of sandwich. "I kind of wanted a wedding in a garden, though. That might be hard in the middle of winter."
It was her turn to consider. "Yeah. A garden would be nice. Let's think a bit harder on that one. New Year's Day was just a thought I had." Time to try to turn the conversation, though.
"Umm, John, was there anyone you wanted to invite?" Damn, should have phrased that as an open question. Trying to interrogate someone you loved was tricky.
"Not many. Finch, Shaw and Fusco of course."
"Any family? Uncles, cousins? Is your Mom still alive?" She held her breath, aware she was treading perilously close to an unmarked boundary.
"Nope. No family." His face was blank as he finished his sandwich. He crumpled the wrapper in his fist and rose. "Lunchtime's over, Detective. Time to get back to work." Was it her imagination, or was the smile he gave her as she got up to join him just a tiny bit forced?
Xxxxx
Finch leaned back, trying to ease his neck. At some other time he might have found the parade of local news in the Puyallup Herald from the late nineteen eighties quite soothing. But he was on a tight time line here, and mostly it was just plain tedious. Bear came over and rested his head on Harold's knee. Harold petted him for a moment before returning his attention to his screen. "I appreciate it, Bear, but right now you're just a distraction," he murmured. He scrolled further down the screen. "Ah. Here's something..." He read the news report, his brows rising as he did. "Hm. Well. No wonder..." Once he had finished he read the report again, and then printed it out and placed it on the window beside McKay's picture. He stared at it another moment before digging out his cell phone.
"Detective Carter? I think I have something. I need to see the court transcript from a case in Puyallup in 1987. I'm sending you the reference now."
xxxx
Shaw was standing pretending to look into a store window when McKay came out of his building. She bluejacked his phone as he came past her, gave it a moment and then peeled off from her vantage point to walk down Madison Avenue after him. He made his way along the street, turned on to East 52nd and kept on for three blocks. She came to a halt beside the traffic light on the corner of Third Avenue. McKay dodged through the slow-moving traffic, getting his wallet out as he did so, and disappeared into a bank. Two doors away the Stars and Stripes and the Union Jack fluttered, flanking the entrance to the British Consulate.
"I'm up on his phone now, Finch. He's just gone into a bank."
"Oh, good, Ms Shaw. Let's listen in, then."
They heard as McKay requested, and got, access to a safe deposit box. The phone's mike picked up a rustling sound as he removed something from his breast pocket. Then sounds of rattling and banging as the box was returned to its place. A few minutes later McKay emerged from the bank, dodged through traffic again, and walked past her back towards Madison Avenue.
Shaw stood a moment longer. "Finch, something funny's going on here." She hesitated.
"Would you care to enlighten me any further, Ms Shaw?" asked Finch impatiently.
"Well, I'm following McKay. But there's another guy following him too," she took a photo with her phone as she spoke. "And I could swear there are a couple of John's old friends following him." More photos. "It's a regular conga line right now."
xxxx
"There's a couple of couple of Company guys across the road. And a mystery woman," came Kevin's voice over the earpiece."It's bloody funny, I think she's following our man too."
"That's affirmative, two CIA," said David, on a rooftop across the street. "I'd swear the woman isn't though."
"Ah, sorry boss, but I think the woman just made me," said Kevin. "She gave me a helluva fishy look as I walked past."
"Fuck," said Martin.
"Sorry, boss," Kevin repeated.
He didn't sound nearly sorry enough, Martin thought sourly. "So who the hell is she? What's her interest?"
There was silence from his two subordinates.
"Okay, get your arses back to the hotel for now. We need to do a rethink before we grab him."
xxx
Finch sat waiting for his facial recognition software to complete its run. When it did so he gazed at the screen unhappily. No results; that couldn't be right. "Mm," he said frowning. He sat for a moment, considering, then sighed and fished out his laptop. "Come on, Bear. Let's go for a walk," he told the dog.
Up in the outside world Finch made for Times Square. The afternoon was wearing on and the streets were becoming more and more crowded, which suited him just fine. At last he found a good space, sat down and opened the computer. Bear sat next to him, content, for now, to watch the world go by. Finch glanced down at him. "So, boy, you wanna hack the CIA?"
Bear grinned happily.
In the end it didn't take him long to find what he wanted – the CIA's firewalls weren't nearly as secure as the Agency doubtless believed. He saved the information to a file and closed the laptop. Just as he was gathering up computer bag and coat and dog lead, his phone buzzed. He tapped his earpiece to accept the call.
"Finch? It's John here."
"Oh, Mr Reese. How nice to hear from you. How are things going for you?"
"Oh, I'm having a lovely time, Harold." Mr Reese's voice was mock-pleasant. "I'm cleaning my weapons, I've tidied my desk drawers, I had a try at the crossword in the Journal. I was kind of wondering whether any Numbers had come in – you remember, we used to save people from violent deaths?"
"Yes, I'll be in touch as soon as anything comes up, Mr Reese," said Harold placatingly.
"Are you sure something hasn't already come up? Something you're not telling me about? Or have those Numbers that never stop coming, stopped coming?" There was a definite edge to Mr Reese's voice. Time to end this conversation.
"I'll be in touch," said Harold hurriedly, and tapped his earpiece.
Xxxx
Joss sat before her computer in the Precinct, furtively calling up the court reports from Puyallup, Washington. She hoped Moreno wouldn't tumble too quickly to just how little time she'd spent today on her real job. The process of accessing out-of-state court records wasn't a quick one; she prayed the information would come through fast enough to be useful to Finch.
Wow. You have a really interesting problem, Joss.
"Athene, I can't talk to you here," she hissed.
That's okay, I'll talk and you can just listen. I can save you a lot of work. Just tell me what you want to know about John and I can have it all at your fingertips in a flash.
"What?" she squeaked. Fusco shot her a puzzled glance from across his desk.
Consider me your research assistant, Joss. Tell me what you want, and I'll find it.
Joss stood up and walked rapidly to a vacant interrogation room. She shut the door and pulled the blinds on the window.
"Athene, what the hell are you talking about? I can't let you spy on John like that!"
All I'd be doing is exactly what you and Machine Admin are doing. Just faster and more efficiently.
Joss felt like tearing her hair. "That's different."
Really? How is it different?
"We're doing it because we want to help John, not just out of curiosity."
But I want to help too. The computer sounded hurt.
Joss took a deep breath. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, Athene, I really do. But you have to let us handle this. Finch and I ..." She came to a halt. Finch and I really care about John, and that's what makes it different, was what she wanted to say. But she wasn't sure she wanted to think about where that conversation might lead. In the weeks since her appearance Athene had been friendly and cheerful, but … "Finch and I can handle it, and just for now we'd prefer to keep it that way. But we'll call on you if we need help, okay?"
Okay Joss. Athene sounded reluctant.
"Thank you, Athene." Joss made her way back to her desk. The court report was there on her screen: if it was Athene's work that it had appeared so quickly she wasn't going to complain. She skimmed the file and then forwarded it to Finch. Then she sat back in her chair chewing the end of a pencil. What she'd just read fitted with what John himself had told her of his past, but she couldn't help feeling that there was more going on there than the bald details were recording.
Xxxx
When her shift finished she made her way to the subway to meet Finch, calling John with a fabricated excuse. She felt bad as she put her phone away again.
Finch and Shaw were both waiting for her as she made her way across the old platform to the subway car. Harold gestured her to a seat.
"Joss, there's been a development in our case. Ms Shaw was following Patrick McKay when she found he was being followed by another party."
"The threat, I would imagine," said Joss thoughtfully.
"Well, yes. But that wasn't all." Finch nodded to Shaw.
"The threat, if that's what he was, was being followed himself," said Shaw. "And I'd bet dollars to donuts the guys following him were CIA."
"I then ran facial recognition on the potential threat, with somewhat unexpected results," said Finch. "He entered the US two days ago on a diplomatic passport. His name is Kevin Gillespie, and he works for the British SIS, the organisation often known as MI6."
"Ouch," said Joss after a moment. "What the hell is going on here?"
"Also, I had to get into the CIA to get Gillespie's name, and while I was there I was able to confirm that the men Sameen photographed were indeed from the Agency."
Shaw gave a humourless chuckle. "So what we have is Patrick McKay, being hunted by MI6. Who are being hunted by the CIA. And then there's us getting on the end of that wagon train. Wonder if anyone else is going to join in?"
Joss was turning this over in her mind. "There's also the other aspect I found today. From Puyallup."
"Yes," Finch agreed. He turned to Shaw. "We went looking for more background on McKay. Based on an old newspaper report and the court records Joss was able to pull for us, we have something of his earlier story. Did John ever tell you about the circumstances under which he joined the Army?"
"He got drunk once and mentioned a judge giving him a second chance," said Shaw, shrugging slightly. "But he never went into any detail and I never asked."
"He told me once that his mother got up in court and told the judge he needed to be scared straight, and the judge gave him the choice of jail or the Army," said Joss. She wished she didn't feel as though she was betraying a confidence. "And then I saw the court record..."
"Indeed," said Finch. He raised his eyes to meet Shaw's curious gaze. "He beat someone up in a bar. An unprovoked attack, which left the victim so badly injured he needed extensive surgery to repair his face. The victim was his cousin, Patrick McKay."
To be continued….