Chapter Three

All Charlie ever wanted to do was math. He loved solving equations, teaching applied mathematics at CalSci, and helping the FBI solve cases. But he never thought it would get him in this much trouble. He'd been shot at multiple times in his life now, and it was really starting to piss him off. And of all the people in the world, did it have to be his favorite astrophysicist that was trying to kill him? He had calculated the risks of consulting with feds before, and knew it was dangerous, but he always hoped the odds would be in his favor. Unfortunately, this time they weren't. As John zoomed down the street, Charlie kept glancing back at Harnett periodically. "He's got a gun!" Charlie cried when Harnett held a MAC-10 out the window.

"Get down!" John bellowed, making the car swerve.

Charlie slouched as low as he could, his arms over his head. Harnett fired the gun, shooting out the tires and making bullets blast through the windows. The cab came to a screeching halt, and if Charlie hadn't been wearing a seatbelt, he would've flown through the windshield. "Stay in the car," John ordered.

"Good idea," whispered Charlie.

John opened the door, jumped out, and crouched behind it for cover. Harnett got out of the car behind them, rapidly firing bullets toward the taxi. Charlie really wished Don was there. Harnett started walking closer, still letting bullets fly. John aimed his gun at the astrophysicist's knee and pulled the trigger. Harnett screamed in pain, clutching his leg as he fell. John stuck his gun back in its holster and strolled over to the wounded man. Charlie sat up straight in his seat and turned to look. John grabbed Harnett by the shirt and dragged him back to the cab. John slammed his back against the side of the car. "Why did you order the hit on Eppes?!" he interrogated.

The now frightened man kept his mouth shut. "I asked nicely," John said humorously. "Why do you want to kill Charles Eppes?"

"I—I can't tell you. I can't tell anyone. And I'm definitely not supposed to tell a cop," Harnett admitted.

"Do you I look like a cop?"

The man shrugged unsurely. John asked, "Is someone making you do this? Has someone threatened you?"

Harnett stared at the ground shamefacedly, his eyes filling with tears. "He's got my son, his wife, and my grandchild," he said between sobs.

John clenched his jaw. It abhorred him when people messed with kids. "Who has your family?"

"I don't know. I never saw him. He called me, sent me threatening texts with pictures, and told me who to kill if I wanted them back. But I couldn't kill him myself, so I hired two druggies to do it for me. When he found out what happened earlier, he called to tell me to do the job myself or he'd hurt my son. So I followed you." Harnett put pressure on his bleeding knee with his palms. "Are you going to help me or stand there and let me bleed to death?"

The sound of sirens wailed in the distance. John needed to leave before NYPD showed up. "Give me your jacket," he ordered.

Harnett pulled it off. John tied it tightly around his leg, making a tourniquet to stop the bleeding. "There's your ride to the hospital," John stated when an ambulance turned the corner, headed right towards them. "Ask for Detective Joss Carter, NYPD. Tell her everything you've told me. We'll be in touch."

Harnett nodded, and John moved him to the sidewalk. "I need to borrow your car," said John.

The astrophysicist handed him the keys to his sedan. John hopped in Harnett's car and pulled up beside the cab. "Get in!" he called to Charlie through the open windows.

A still in shock Charlie scrambled hastily out of the taxi cab and into the car. They rode off just before the ambulance made it to the scene. Charlie crossed his arms in an attempt to control his quivering. "Are you okay?" John asked.

"Oh, I'm great!" Charlie mocked enthusiasm.

"Harnett's family is being held hostage. He was ordered to kill you. That's why he hired those hit men," John clarified.

The statements didn't make Charlie feel any better. "Why would someone do that?" Charlie wondered, more speaking to himself than John.

"Mr. Reese," Harold cut in, "I found the threatening texts and phone records. However, the phone's signal is far too encrypted to track. Whoever we're dealing with is almost as smart as me."

"So you can't find them?" John pondered.

"I said 'almost as smart.' I didn't say I wouldn't be able to find some other way to track them down."

"What's he saying?" Charlie inquired.

"Finch can't track a phone signal back to its source," John responded. "It's too encrypted."

"Nothing's too encrypted to crack. Some things may be monumentally harder to crack than others, but nothing is perfect. If I could study it, learn the built in redundancies, there's a chance I could hack the system," said Charlie.

"How long would it take?" John asked.

"Well, depending on multiple variables, it could take anywhere from an hour to days, maybe even weeks or months."

"We don't have days. We may not even have hours."

"Do you have any other data? I mean, besides the phone signals. Any information you could give me, no matter how seemingly insignificant, could help."

John asked, "Finch?"

Charlie waited patiently, held in suspense. "Yes, I heard, Mr. Reese," Harold said. "Besides the phone signal, the picture and messages themselves are the only information I could find. This man is virtually untraceable. There's no mention of the kidnapping or plot on email, social media, anything."

"The picture and messages are the only other data we can give you, Eppes," John put flatly.

"Picture?" he asked. He hadn't heard the conversation between John and Harnett, so this was news to him. "I need to see that picture. Maybe I can find out where it was taken. Wait, what kind of phone signal was it?"

"What do you mean?" John furrowed his brows.

"The signal from a landline isn't the same as a cellular one. People use cellphones more often today. Some don't even have landlines. If it came from a landline, we can narrow the search to anyone in the area with one. It won't be a hundred percent, but it's better than nothing," Charlie explained.

"Actually, it was from a landline, Mr. Reese," Harold told him.

"It's a landline," John told Charlie.