Finch stood in rigid horror, blankly staring at his useless computer screens. This was ludicrous! He couldn't simply go on doing nothing. He'd listened to the disconcerting sounds of explosions, bodily contact and gunfire, all the while doing nothing and not calling backup as Reese had asked. He understood why John didn't want the Detectives there, potentially getting in the way of his one-man demolish team, but now...now things had changed.
Even through their intermittent connection, Finch could piece together the intense battle, but when things turned suddenly, and terrifyingly silent... that's when he began to feel true panic.
Finch couldn't be certain that they hadn't just simply lost their connection. He certainly hoped that was the case, because to hear the nothingness was bone chilling.
The jamming device still left him blind, on all fronts, even unable to properly advise the Detectives as to what to expect...
"Detective Fusco, I'm sending you Mr. Reese's last location. We've lost contact and I believe he could use some help."
"Of course he could." Fusco rolled his eyes, what else was new. "What's Mr. Sunshine up against this time?"
"I'm afraid I can't offer much in this case, you'll just have to use the utmost caution. I believe the people that attacked Mr. Reese are the same ones he spotted following him earlier, and the ones responsible for the communications blackout centered around 57th and Park. They were extremely well equipped, and I suspect have military affiliations. I honestly have no idea how many there are."
"Shit, could you be more sketchy? Sounds like there's liable to be a whole army in there... You call Carter yet?"
"I sent her a text, but she's in the meeting with Sinclair. You'll need to hurry Detective and move quickly. I'm on my way as well."
"What about Boyd and the Triad trio?"
"Leave them." As much as Finch knew Mr. Reese would be angry with his decision to pull the Detectives off their current numbers, he knew John needed them.
"...I'm Miss Jan Carson..." The debonaire man took Carter's hand and placed a chased kiss of greeting upon it. Though he was tall, quite handsome, and had a sophisticated charm about him, Joss was repelled. "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice."
"Please come, have a seat in my office." Sinclair softly glided a hand behind Joss and directed her in front of him, toward the first glass room on the left. She used this to her full advantage.
The skin-tight leather skirt embraced every inch of her well curved figure, allowing her to work her hips with hypnotic power. The low-cut, yellow silk of her blouse seductively dove off her shoulders, shimmering down her perfectly rounded cleavage with every step. The stupidly high heels...? Well.., they just kicked it all off and had him practically panting by they time they sat.
"This was an unexpected pleasure Miss Carson." Sinclair cooed, with his eloquently polished, English charm.
Joss bent forward, playing the position to its fullest and slowly pulled a thumb drive from her bag. "I'm just glad you were able to see me so quickly. You come highly recommended by a mutual client, Michelle Von." She paused just long enough to gauge his reaction. "I've recently come into a substantial inheritance and am interested in hearing about some... options." She flipped her hair with a come-hither smile - effectively repulsing herself, but doing the trick as he leaned forward with a swallow.
"Mrs. Von, you say? How is she doing... after the surprising news?"
Bastard was testing her, Carter realized, just as her phone beeped with an incoming text from Finch.
Code2 Four Seasons garage John 10-53
Her pulse spiked with immediate understanding - John was down and urgently needed help, quickly and quietly! Oh God.
It took all her training not to betray her cover and stay composed, but she didn't miss a beat. "Well, it fact she is quite happy. Their prenuptial agreement was very clear. She got everything in the event of any indiscretions by her husband. Though the rather public announcement of his homosexuality still haunts her on occasion.., she's adjusting." Once an exuberant business tycoon, Stuart Von was now a ruined man thanks to this heartless ass.
"Well, I'm glad to hear it. How may I be of service? And please.., call me Hugh."
Carter slid the thumb drive across the desk and let her fingers linger in his for just a moment. "It's all on there."
"Unfortunately, I do have a 1 o'clock today, and I don't want to rush this. Perhaps we could meet for a lunch appointment tomorrow?"
Finch had wanted her to find out his plans for tomorrow night. "Tomorrow's tough, I do tend to be freer in the evenings. Maybe around 10 o'clock? I know this fantastic place..."
True disappointment flashed across Sinclair's face. "Sadly, I have a prior engagement I can not miss. The following then?"
Carter painted a swooning smile on her lips. "I look forward to it. Do you have a number I should use?"
"Oh! Why, yes... of course! Where are my manners. Here is my cell." He scribbled his number then turned to pull a folder. Carter quickly cued her phone to pair with his.
"Here you are. My apologies again for rushing. I do hope everything has been... to your satisfaction."
Cater held back a laugh. Former spy or not, he was still just a predictable man.
"So far... everything has been." She forced a giggled as she stood. "Thank you Mr. Wayneright, I mean... Hugh. I'll be in touch soon."
Carter could barely keep herself from sprinting out of his office to the elevator. Once the doors slide shut, "Finch it's me. I'm on my way, what's happening?"
Fusco wasn't sure if he'd ever heard Finch have such an anxious edge to his voice. It amazed him how unsettling he actually found that. And damn... the man usually knew everything. What went wrong?
He switched on his lights and mashed the accelerator to the floor. "Guess I ought'a see what's got his fancy suit in a bunch." Lionel tried to ease his concerns with his usual flippant monolog, but it wasn't helping.
Fusco's eyes grew wide as he approached the scene. Black smoke billowed out from under the hotel as fleeing guests darted across the street in panicked alarm. Shattered glass lay in glistening piles along the walkways and surrounding lawn. He had to be careful to avoid the desperate people as he pulled his cruiser down into the smoking entrance.
Fusco squinted against the haze, willing his eyes to adjust to the murky darkness. But things became soberingly clear as soon as soon he pulled deeper into the parking garage. Or... what was left of it.
"Crap." It was one hell of a mess. Burning remnants of twisted cars littered the area, charred tires continued to spew acrid black smoke, swirled about by the concrete chunks dropping from the ceiling above. There were pieces, of god knew what, blown as far as he could see - which wasn't very far, admittedly.
Cautiously he drew his gun and began a guarded search. He needed to use his flashlight, but that would have just made him an easy target if.., any preps were still alive. Seeing Wonder-boy's handy-work made him doubt he'd find any survivors.
"John? John you in here?" He hoarsely whispered, subduing a beckoning cough. He couldn't see shit, he inwardly cursed, just as a slight noise directly behind him had him instinctively spinning with his gun aimed high.
"Jesus Carter! Could have shot you!" He hissed as he took in her unexpected appearance, but opted not to comment when he saw the worried look on her face.
"What the hell happened? Finch didn't know much." Carter assumed a shoulder to shoulder position with Fusco and swept the area for any signs of life or otherwise.
"I don't know anymore than you do." He whispered. "Apparently these guys used some kind of high-fangled military jammers to knock out communications and cut the power. But this looks like our boy's usual overkill MO." The pair moved through the black murk suddenly halted by the sounds of a car engine being shut off.
Finch found himself staring down the barrel of two guns. "It's only me Detectives. Have you located Mr. Reese?" He panted, still shaken by the dangerous greeting.
"No, no sign of him or any one else for that matter." Fusco muttered returning to the search.
Together, they picked their way down the middle of the garage, searching and straining to see any signs of life through the hanging smoke.
Finch tried to swallow back the surreal realization that being here was no less frustrating than sitting at his desk, helplessly listening to the perils Reese encountered.
Carter froze, "Fusco," she pointed to her right. The hint of four dark figures materialized through the cloaking haze. One lay face down in a pool of spreading blackness, the other was bonelessly slumped at the base of a pillar and the third man lay draped across the hood of a car, all unmoving except for the fourth. The fourth man was leaning over the body on the car.
Carter shoved Finch down as she and Fusco took cover behind the nearest vehicle. "Freeze! NYPD!"
The shadowed figure spun low, and in an instant, vanished into the darkness. "What the hell?"
The three slowly moved from the cars and approached the scene. Finch couldn't move any father. He was frozen by the grizzly nightmare of three lifeless bodies scattered before him.
Carter knelt next to the man on the floor. "It's not him." She choked out. "This one's dead."
Apprehension mounted as Fusco moved to the man at the base of the pillar. His head was slumped forward. In the dark, he had the same hair cut, size and black clothes. He didn't particularly like John Reese, in fact, considered him a pain in his ass most of the time, but the work he did was invaluable. And to be honest, it was because of him he felt like he'd gotten the chance to straighten up his life... He was the reason he could now proudly look his son in the eye. So he really didn't want to find him dead.
Fusco checked for a pulse, nothing.., then raised the man's head. He was definitely not wearing a suit. It was a good thing too, because whoever this was used his face to stop a bullet. "It ain't him. This one's dead too."
Both Fusco and Carter moved to the farthest and last body, immediately recognizing the tall form and long limbs sprawled across a severely dented hood and deeply embedded in the caved windshield.
"Finch, we found him!" Fusco breathed and looked at a silent Carter. He knew something was up with her and Mr. Happy for a while now. Seeing her frozen with fear broke his heart. "I got this." He whispered.
Tentative fingers searched Reese's neck for a pulse. Fusco bowed his head in relief. "He's alive!" Quickly, he looked him over for immediate injuries, noting the drizzling blood at Reese's temple and the large, unusual burn cluster on his chest.
Lionel leaned in to study the damage. "Shit! What the hell did that?"
Carter was spurred forward and helped part John's shirt, indescribably relieved to find he'd worn his vest and equally confused by the lack of bullets.
"Hey man. You still with us?" Fusco patted Reese's face, but got no response.
"Let's get his vest off." Carter hurriedly pulled the velcro straps of the vest, laying it's heavy weight to one side.
"Damn! What ever it was, that had to have hurt." Fusco looked up at Finch.
"How bad is he, Detective?" Harold forced his feet to move.
"He's out cold. Took a heavy shot of somethin', vest stop it though, and luckily the windshield cushioned his landing. But I'm pretty sure Mr. Happy ain't gonna be to happy when he wakes up." Fusco's relief was evident with his wise crack.
The words washed over Finch, easing his fears enough to rally his focus. "Then we don't have anytime to waste. We need to get him out of here. Also, collect anything you might find, like a computer, phone, weapons..."
Finch began a quick search of the area for any part of the transmitting device he knew had to be there. The signal had been extremely complex with shocking range and military grade encryption, but it had to be networked.
With his eyes darting back and forth, he hobbled around a few of the closer cars when something wedged, just under a car's tire, caught his eye. He gently grasped the charred, laptop-sized box and shoved it into his bag, then hurriedly caught up to Fusco and Carter moving Reese to his car.
Finch's apologetic tone pulled them from their work. "I hate to say this Detectives, but we also need to take the bodies."
Fusco's surprise morphed into annoyed compliance. "Of course you do, why am I not surprised!"
"Finch we've already compromised this crime scene enough as it is. What the hell do we need the bodies for?" Carter's conflicted anger was more than evident.
"We need to keep whoever they work for, in the dark until we can learn something about who it is we're dealing with. For now, just run their prints and DNA." Finch explained.
"And after?" Carter couldn't believe she was going along with this.
"Don't do anything with them just yet, I'm sure Mr. Reese is going to want to have a closer look."
"And him? A hospital?" Fusco tilted his head toward Reese in the back of Finch's car. Then looked at Carter who was already shaking her head, 'no.'
"Just follow me Detectives."
"Sir, we have another problem... We are at the incident site. Two NYPD cruisers showed up almost immediately, along with a third unmarked car. Maybe a Fed? They just left."
"How the hell could they have gotten there that fast? Communications are still out... And why would they leave a crime scene so fast? These aren't normal cops."
"Bowman said they got pinged, so that guy wasn't working alone..."
"Dammit! This is a serious mess! The last thing we want is get tangled up with the authorities or some black ops crap. What about our men and the hardware?"
"Gone Sir.. There is lots of blood and destruction, but no bodies or gear."
"Fuck! Okay.., get out of there. And Mathison, double eyes on our targets. I don't need anymore outside interferences. I don't have to tell you what's riding on this going smoothly."
"No Sir. Copy that."