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Five faces, five lives, five new numbers stared back at Finch from their innocuous position taped across the display board. He thought they'd run the gamut when it came to the complexities and number of irrelevants the machine would give them at one time, but obviously he was wrong.
They were facing multiple numbers, all ex-soldiers with elite military training, and by initial appearances, likely spread across three countries. Multiple number situations, albeit difficult, was not Finch's biggest worry. The fear of such highly trained individuals potentially being co-conspiring perpetrators, was.
Mr. Reese would be dealing with people very similarly trained and equal to his level of skill. If they ended up being the perpetrators, it could prove to be a gravely damaging situation. How they would handle the logistics of such distant locations was another distinct difficulty.
Finch massaged his temples against the developing headache when a shoe scuff startled him. "Oh! Mr. Reese... I didn't hear you."
Reese frowned with suspicious concern. Finch was always able to detect and ruin a perfectly executed and stealthy entrance. In this case however, he'd been far from stealthy and too tired to care, so for Finch not to have noticed him, confirmed the depth to which he was distracted. Something was up. "Finch, one of your computers blow a fuse?" But a flashing glance at their board answered the real question.
"Perhaps Mr. Reese. The machine has just given us five new numbers." Finch continued staring at the board.
"Five... but it's done that before. Not since the Dons, but not unheard of. What's got you so uptight about this one?" He walked closer to study the faces.
"Well to be quite honest, the fact that they all share extensive military and specialty training - very similar to yours I might add, - and that they are likely spread across three countries."
Reese just stood there, looking at Harold with an unreadable expression as he spoke in a controlled tone. "How extensive? And what countries?"
"I've only just begun to compile the details, and their recent footprints are light, but here is what I've found so far." Finch returned to his desk, grabbing the pile of papers from its edge and began taping them bellow each photo.
"Sandra Stark started her hazardous career as an Army Combat Engineer and Demolitions Expert; she did that for ten years before joining the FBI's weapons trafficking division from which she was later fired due to her suspected involvement in the disappearance of seized explosives. She was not convicted due to lack of evidence. Her last known address was in Washington D.C.
Dan Erinson was a Marine, part of the Special Operations Team with advanced training in weapons employment. In 2007 his Battalion was deployed to Afghanistan and after a questionable attack left excessive civilian casualties, he disappeared and was presumed dead. Obviously not, since the machine gave us his number.
Hugh Sinclair moved through the ranks of the British Special Forces, until being recruited into MI6's UK Special Forces Dept." Finch paused to work a kink in his shoulder. "Sinclair was later terminated. They cited unsanctioned killings as the reason, though I find no further details. I have yet to locate him."
Martin Boyd was a Navy SEAL Demolitions and Weapons specialist. After being accused of prematurely detonating a civilian populated village in Cambodia, he was dishonorably discharged, but managed to escape before his trial. Mexico, China and Columbia are just the most recent locations I've tracked him to.
Petros Trentidov, now Peter Trent, was a Russian Spetsnaz Officer with the Vega Unit, he defected to Canada eight years ago and currently runs a private security firm in Toronto. But I'm not so sure he's given up his old life completely."
"Any ideas why the machine gave us their numbers?"
"With backgrounds like that, it could be any of a million reasons. Until I can piece together a more detailed picture, I'm afraid not."
"And how am I.., we, supposed to track them across the globe? Just out of New York, rules out Carter and Fusco's involvement. I thought the machine only gives us numbers that don't pose a national threat?" Reese ran a hand through his hair and began a slow prowling pace in front of their board trying to tie anything together.
"You are correct Mr. Reese, which means the threat is on a more personal basis. The machine would not have given them to us otherwise."
"Well, first we need to figure out where they are and if they have any connections to each other. Is one trying to kill the rest? Are they planning something separately? Together? Or are they all in danger by an outside source?" John could feel the growing frustration - the combination of possible scenarios was endless without knowing more.
"I'm running multiple searches now." Though John hid it well, Finch could tell he was exhausted. "This is going to take some time, Mr. Reese. I'm sure we'll have more in a couple hours. Perhaps you should try to get some rest in the back room? I'll wake you when I have something."
Those few short steps to collapsing on the couch would be easy, but he had to take care of something first. "No, just call me soon as you do."
Hugh Sinclair sat in his high-rise office nursing a tumbler of scotch in the dark. He stared passed the coded message on his computer screen and admired the shimmering New York lights bellow. Though it was late, the streets were still filled with life. "City that never sleeps..." He mumbled and swallowed another drink. He couldn't sleep either, too exhilarated by the up coming Event and too irritated by the old memories it reawakened.
It was a private, underground Event that reminded him of the special development branch of MI6. So many innovations and toys of the trade made his mouth water with anticipation, and yet at the same time made him miss his former life - despite how they'd betrayed him.
Though his current mercenary, moonlighting endeavors kept him quit busy, wealthy and satisfied; there was still this underlying longing for that greater purpose. Serving King and Country had given him that.
He cursed his damnable, retrospective weakness. "Such was life!" He leaned forward and sent the encrypted RSVP. "Inevitably, everyone will stab you in the back as they turn theirs." He drained his glass. "All the more reason to thoroughly embrace and exploit this opportunity to the fullest."
Reese left the library with every intention of heading home then calling Carter. She hadn't said much, but he knew he'd screwed up. He at least owed her a face to face visit.
By the time he'd figured out what to say, vetoed it, and came up with something else, he was parked across from Carter's brownstone.
He had nothing, so he sat there, feeling at a loss as he debated the situation his confusion had caused. No sleep for 72 hours didn't help either, but it was the fact that he'd all but avoided Carter after getting back from New Orléans that made this so much harder.
Maybe he should go? Just call? Maybe wait until tomorrow? Maybe break-in for old-time sake? Yeah that would go over real well, but he couldn't help the mischievous grin the thought caused. He did miss pushing her buttons, honestly missed less complication.., but it was too late for that.
Still, he'd already ruined enough of her night as is was. She had likely just gotten home from processing Miss Elliot and the steroid twins, and was perhaps already in bed. Tempting.Dammit John! He rubbed his eyes, berating himself for that train of thought.
John laid his head back, allowing his eyes to drift closed for just a minute. He knew what he wanted, why he'd come. He wanted to see her, walk up those stairs, hold her in his arms, and wordlessly cast away all doubts and fears that had prevented him from talking to her in the first place, but it wasn't that simple.
The stress of these five new numbers added to already muddied waters, fatigue and one hell of a head ache. He was sure his judgement was clouded and didn't know if his being here would make things better or worse.
He'd just call her tomorrow.
A knock on his widow had his gun reflexively drawn and leveled before he realized he'd moved. Or who it was.
Cater jumped, both hands held up in apologetic shock. "What the hell!" She mouthed through the closed window.
Dammit. She must have seen him from her window. Okay, so not asleep and always aware of her surroundings. He loved that.
The street light filtered down through the leafless trees, dancing shadows across her face. John could see the worry in her eyes and felt bad for being the one to cause it, and yet he couldn't help the racing excitement of seeing her. He rolled the window down. "Hey Carter."
"John? What are you doing? I saw you pull up, but when you didn't get out...I was... I figured I'd check on you."
He always managed to screw things up. "Sorry. That wasn't my intention. It's late, I should have just called. Wanted to make sure things went ok and... Sorry."
He was rambling and she could tell, not saying what was really on his mind. Usually he was better at masking that, but tonight his exhaustion let her see right through him. "Hey, don't worry about it. I was up, just going over some files. Why don't you come in, get out of the wet cold and tell me what was up with Finch." She expected a flirtatious response, but instead just got a tired grin. Still, a sexy-ass grin. Carter admitted.
Now that he was at her door, he felt a twinge of apprehension. The last time he passed through her door, she'd brought him here to care for him after he'd been shot. Now here he was, what? What was he going to say? Tell her everything was alright? Let her down easy? Avoid the elephant in the room and say nothing? God - he shouldn't be here.
Carter saw the hesitance and look on his face. "John its ok, Taylor's at his grandma's so we don't have to be quiet." Crap. That came out so wrong... She tried to look completely innocent, hoping he hadn't heard her.
He had. "Why... Carter? We doing something noisy?" How many times had he fantasized about making her scream his name in the throes of passion.He quickly reined in the thought.
There it was. The opportunistic 'Dog.' The John Reese she expected. The old John. She stifled a nervous giggle as she sat on the couch issuing a hand motion for him to join her.
He didn't move right away; if he sat down, he wouldn't make it back out. "I can't stay long."
She pursed her lips. "Just sit down before you fall down, and tell me what happened with Finch?"
Reese took a deep breath and sat on the other end. "We have five new names, but not your regular, run-of-the-mill civilians. Finch is still gathering the details, but what we know so far is that all of them worked for elite branches of the military and government with advanced specialty training. And not just for the US government either..," Reese slowly blinked processing the information. "... Russia and the UK as well. We'll know more in a couple hours."
"What do you mean worked? What are they doing now?"
"Just that. They've all either been fired or gotten dishonorable's. One even faked death to avoid prison. Not sure what their up to currently, Finch is looking into that too."
"Shit. Any idea what's going on? Cuz' these guys don't sound very ethical. This could get real bad, real fast, if they're involved in something." She paused, realizing the implications of dealing with other governments. "John? What if they're overseas? Have your sources sent you to other countries before? Or are they involved in something here?" When she didn't get a response, she leaned forward and caught him staring off. "John?"
"Sorry. No, our cases have all been in the states, primarily in New York. Finch is trying to find them now." John met Carter's eyes. "Carter listen... about New Orléans and since we've been back. I'm sorry we haven't had the time to deal with things. I'm not sure I can... Yet."
Carter calmly swallowed. "I told you how I felt because I had to be true to myself, not to force you to. I know how you feel and that's all I need right now. I get what you're worried about. Really, I do. So just know, I'm here... when you're ready. Okay."
John had expected anger, hurt, pain, something; he was NOT expecting understanding and patience. God she never failed to amaze him. He was at a loss for words. "I'm trying."
Joss had always felt the distance John kept from people. It was a safety mechanism she understood more than he knew, but she also felt that distance shrinking between them. Sometimes he'd drop his guard and let her in, if only for fleeting, but amazing moments. That's what would keep her waiting. And hoping. "It's late, why don't you just stay. You look worn out and you could use the driving time to sleep instead."
Reese was on the verge of protesting when Carter continued. "Listen. No strings. You can crash on the couch. It's pretty comfortable."
At 2:05 am, he had to admit it was a tempting offer, but whether or not it was a good idea, was a different story. Unfortunately she was right, he was beyond tired and already proved incapable of deciding what was, and wasn't, a good idea. "At least this time I won't bleed all over it." He gave in.