Two taxis, a bus and three trips around the city, Reese was rapidly loosing patients when Trent finally led him to the hotel. The guy was nothing if not paranoid. Reese had backed well off his target and passed the Four Points Hotel with traveling disinterest, rounded the corner a block away and stopped in front of a convenience store.

Under the guise of removing his gloves and helmet, he smoothly camouflaged a careful survey of his surroundings; it was no longer Peter Trent that had his attention.

"Harold...?"

"Yes Mr. Reese."

"I have a feeling Trent wasn't just being paranoid. We're being watched. I caught a glimpse of the same white van, twice now. Once while surveilling Erinson, and now at the Four Seasons. New E350, so no plates, and heavily tinted windows." Reese watched the van vanish around the corner.

"I'll see what I can pick up on the traffic cams corresponding to your traveled path. Keep a sharp eye, Mr. Reese."

"Sir. We may have a problem."

"Explain."

"The same man was seen following two of our targets, DERINSON#001 and PTRENT#003."

"Do we have an identity?"

"No Sir. Neither facial, voice, or gait recognition databases have a match. He does appear to be highly skilled at surveillance."

"Has he made any contact with the targets?"

"No Sir, just shadowing them."

"If he interferes or engages the targets, deal with him. I don't want the operation blown in the eleventh hour by some spook. Keep me posted."

"Copy Sir."

Reese entered the lobby of the Hotel via the sub-garage entrance. He'd ducked through the convenience store and slipped out the back, navigating a short maze of alleys that ultimately led back to the hotel.

Though the white van was nowhere to be seen, it didn't mean they were gone. Who ever they were, Reese wasn't about to make this easy.

Reese walked through the lobby casually scanning for anybody out of place. But the only thing truly out of place was the extreme decor. He really wasn't one to notice interior design, beyond its obvious practicality, but this was downright distracting. Any defensible lay out and lines of sight gave way to cascading sheets of transparent glass artwork hanging from floor to ceiling in useless points of interest. So much for cover, he thought as Finch's voice came over his ear piece.

"Mr. Reese, you'd better hurry. I've taken the liberty of hacking into the hotel's computer system, a sorely lacking system I might add, and have located Mr. Trent; he's currently at the bar. He's staying in suite number 4001."

Reese moved to the elevators with an air of confidence that left little room to question his presence as the door slide shut. "Okay Finch, I'm heading up."

"You'll need an elevator code to get to the top suits. Enter 8547." Finch added. "I'll override the suite door once you're there."

The suite was one of only six on the entire floor, so it didn't take long to locate. John grinned when he approached the door and the light turned green. "You're like a cyber bump-key, Harold."

"I'd like to believe I'm a bit more useful." Finch said with mock insult.

Reese stepped through the threshold of the smotheringly, lavish suite. White, over-stuffed furniture dominated the space filled with plush white carpet. A black grand piano stood out like a sore thumb against the row of gigantic, floor-to-ceiling windows slanting out at a 45 degree angle over the city bellow. They gave the impression that the room was floating in the ominous grey clouds that had been collecting all morning. "Nice place, Finch.., a bit over the top. His 'work' certainly seems to be going well for him."

"His offshore accounts would agree with you. Have you found the safe? I texted the code to your phone."

Reese swung aside the painting covering the safe. "Got it, but there's no computer, some papers though." John thumbed through the rest of the safe's contents. "He's got some pretty impressive spec. sheets on weapon devices I thought were only theoretical. Bio-EMPs? Plasma shock inducers? Finch, these could make murders look absolutely natural." Reese paused squinting at faint impressions left in the paper. "Looks like he's made a few notes I can't quite..."

Finch interrupted, "Mr. Reese, I've just detected another signal piggy-backing over the hotel's security network. I'm seeing a video feed of you in the suite. You are indeed being watched."

"Any idea where they are?" Reese was already up, stuffing the papers into his coat as he headed for the door.

"Yes, one second... I'll try to trace its origin... Got it! They're under the building, in the parking garage. I can scramble the cameras as you make your way, but they'll know we've made them."

"I'm counting on it." Reese raced down the hall and punched the sub-level button in the elevator. He felt anxiously hopeful. "Maybe these guys'll have some damn answers."

"Mr. Reese be careful. They are undoing my work almost as fast as I'm doing it." Finch sounded frazzled. "John, they just cut all the video feeds and power to the hotel. They know you're coming. And I'm fighting a rather disturbing jamming signa... hard...t... aintain... connection."

"Finch? Can you hear me?"

Sir, the unidentified man was observed entering the hotel of one of the targets. Security video confirms he then entered his room. Orders?"

"He may have gleaned sensitive information. I think it's..."

"Sir, we were just pinged. He know's our location and is overriding our surveillance control."

"Cut everything and jam the area. Eliminate him!"

"Yes Sir."