"Yes Detective?"
"Finch? What the hell happened out there? Your vague explanation doesn't cut it. Who are those men?" Carter sat on the couch in Reese's loft, next to Fusco, and opposite Finch who was sidetracked examining the charred device he'd recovered.
Carter looked over at John lying on his bed. One of Finch's doctors had been waiting for them when they arrived. He was a pleasant-looking middle eastern man in his mid fifties, very skilled and thorough, but didn't say much. It did seem like he knew both John and Finch pretty well. Carter imagined this doctor was much like the other two she'd met, and figured there were quite a few more out there - people happy to repay their debits of gratitude. A beneficial arrangement given how dangerous John's work was.
Bruised chest, lung and three cracked ribs, plus a probable concussion was the result of John's run-in with the mysterious soldiers. The Doctor assured them he would be alright, given time and rest.., but it gave her little comfort seeing him still unconscious and knowing, soon as he was up, he won't slow down or rest.
Finch pulled her from her thoughts and responded in a hushed tone. "We have no idea, Detective."
"So what do we know?"
"Earlier, while following Erinson and Trent, Mr. Reese became aware of a suspicious van tailing them. After Trent led him to his hotel, John thought he'd lost them. However, as soon as he opened Trent's safe, I noticed another signal hacking into the system. It would seem Mr. Reese elevated his threat level when he entered Trent's room. Directly after they cut the power, blacked-out communications for an eight mile radius, and attacked."
"Eight miles? How's that even possible?" Carter was well aware of military jammers, she'd used her fair share, but something mobile, with this kind of range? That was unheard of.
"Well, that is a question I'm hoping will be answered by this." Finch wiggled the device in his lap. "It's definitely advanced military."
"Did he find anything in the room?" Fusco asked.
"In fact he did, some schematics of top-secret weaponry designed for covert and surgical uses." Fusco's frown made him elaborate. "Weapons that would make assassinations look like natural causes."
"Are you kidding me?!" Fusco shifted causing the couch leather to squeak. "So where is this guy Trent, now?"
"Gone I'm afraid. I haven't been able to locate him again."
"And you probably won't..." Three surprised faces turned to find Reese standing there.
"John! My God!" Carter quickly got up to coax Reese to the nearest chair.
"Mr. Reese, you shouldn't be up yet. The Doctor said..."
But Reese cut him off. "I'm fine."
"What do you mean we won't?" Fusco pushed.
Reese collected his strength and started at the beginning. "He appeared after the fight..."
"So that was him, running off." Carter broke in before Reese continued.
He nodded. "Yes. He wanted to know who was after him. Apparently my killing of the two Mercenaries, piqued his interest enough not to kill me - right away. l think that's when you showed up." John paused as the room spun. He ignored. "I told him we thought his life was in danger, that he wasn't the only one these guys were following and asked him why that might be."
"And?" Fusco eagerly prompted.
"He just laughed, and said he guessed there were a lot of people who might want an assassin dead." Reese knew the feeling. "I told him I knew about W.A.R."
"Did he offer anything?" Finch hoped, receiving only a slight nod from Reese.
"It's an annual event of top-secret and futuristic weapons; stolen plans put into production and offered to a very elite group of buyers, by an anonymous source."
"Stolen from who? Our government?" Finch grew more concerned.
"He didn't say or didn't know..." Reese answered.
"So he doesn't think these guys are connected? If he did, he wouldn't have stuck around this long." Carter volunteered answering her own question.
Reese shook his head. "Said he'd been to a few Events, that they always have a heavy detail of guards, but nothing outside the event. He didn't recognize the two I took down, as either the ones he marked after arriving in New York, or earlier today. Which means there are more..." Reese closed his eyes bracing against the growing pain in his chest.
"I didn't see anyone when I was following Boyd." Fusco offered.
Carter agreed. "No. Nothing unusual at Sinclair's office either."
"Not surprising... Trent is a surveillance expert." Reese's energy was waning. It was all he could do to breath, and his head felt close to exploding. "Finch...what about..." He tried to ask Harold about the device he was holding, but failed when his vision suddenly spun and grayed to black.
"Mr. Reese!" Finch leaned forward slowing John's boneless decent. "Help me get him back to bed!"
Once they had him laid out, Finch gave him the shot of Tramadol, the doctor had instructed he administer before the pain level became too much. In John's case however, they were already behind the eight ball.
Carter stoically stood at the foot of his bed until Fusco softly called her over. "Hey. We should get back and do some research ourselves. We can't do anything else here."
"I know." Reluctantly she agreed, but turned to Finch. "Call if you need anything or something changes."
A nagging feeling made Finch look at his watch, realizing with shocked frustration that it was 5:02 pm; he'd nearly forgotten about Stark.
"Actually Detectives. How does dinner sound?"
It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the finer foods. Hell, he liked a good grass-fed lamb as much as the next guy. The part he couldn't swallow was the outrageous price tag, laughably small portions, and the fact that he had to wear a dress jacket and tie just to walk through the damn door.
If only he could have flashed is badge and told that pompous maître d' what he'd really like to do with his tie... Then again, he reminded himself, he wasn't paying and they weren't here for fun.
Fusco courteously held the chair for Carter, then sat on the same side, so both had a clear view of Miss Stark.
Stark was sitting four tables over against the wall. She had a menu, but paid it no attention. Carter leaned toward Fusco. "Looks like she's waiting."
"S'what I was thinking. I thought 'Glasses' said she'd made reservations for one?"
"He did, maybe a last-minute thing?" As if to answer their question, an older gentleman, sporting at least a three thousand dollar suit and a fedora, approached her table. Removing his hat, he gave a slight bow of obvious introduction, then seated himself.
"So who's this guy?"
At a lose, Carter shook her head with a slight hitch of her shoulders. "Sure doesn't look happy. Use you're the phone Finch gave you, see what they're saying."
"I'm quite impressed with your résumé, Miss Stark. I believe this could be a supremely beneficial arrangement." The older man said.
"I'm glad you think so, but let me do you favor and clear something up... I work alone. You need me, you hire me. You have clients with a job, get your brokering fee, and have them contract me. I don't deal with middlemen."
The older man, leaned back staring at her for a moment as if choosing his next words carefully. "I think you misunderstand. So let me return the favor, and be equally clear. I'm no one's middleman. You would work for me, exclusively. And I-am-not-asking."
Stark's complexion redden with anger. "What in the world makes you think I'd just work for you?"
"The fact, my dear Sandra, I shall have to killed if you refuse." The man spoke the last words as a matter-of-fact promise."
Stark slowly stood and leaned over the table, holding him with an intense stare. "You can try, Mr. Gideon."
"That's too bad Miss Stark. I must say, it will be a tragic loss of great talent."
"Suck it old man." She spit and stalked passed the waiter. "He's paying."
Carter casually, but quickly stood. "Meet me outside..."
The rain had been increasing throughout the day. Any normal person knew, if they were going to stay dry in New York... you used an umbrella or got soaked. Funny how the bad guys were always too cool. Idiots...
Two, rain-soaked men leaned against the end of the brick building. They did their best to look unobtrusive, but only managed to look like the plotting, drowned-rats Carter knew them to be.
Stark was heading straight for them. Carter unzipped her purse and gripped her gun concealed inside. She heard Fusco move in behind her.
The taller and furthest of the two men, stomped out his cigaret and moved from the wall into Stark's path.
Stark stopped. "It's not a good idea to say 'no,' to Mr. Gideon." The man growled.
"How would you know? Not like you have the balls to try." Stark bit back.
"Bitch." The answer came with a flick of a switch blade, just as the second man moved behind her.
Carter's heart was pounding as she watched the men closing in on Stark. She increased her pace. "Hey! You forgot your purse!" Carter held hers up in distraction. The closest man turned to find her gun aimed right at his face. "NYPD - asshole!" At that moment, Carter caught the peripheral blur of a slowing vehicle, and braced for a possible drive-by. But as soon as she heard Fusco yell at the second guy, the van sped away.
"Drop the knife or I'll drop it for you." Fusco ordered. "Both of you, face up against the wall!"
The blindsided men complied. Fusco cuffed them both and turned to Carter. "You saw that too right?" Fusco asked under his breath.
"Sure did." Carter said, realizing what they'd both seen. "I got them. Get the old guy," then turned to Stark.
"Thank you." Sandra said to Carter and Fusco as he passed. "Not sure what I would have done." But all three knew what she would have done.., and who had actually gotten their asses saved. It wasn't Stark.
"What's your name?" Carter probed.
Stark uncomfortably swallowed. Where had these cops come from? How did they get wind of Gideon? "Julie Simons." She lied.
Nice. Carter so wanted to ask her for ID, catch her at the lie and take her in, but knew they were only supposed to assess the situation, not get too involved. "So what's the deal with the old guy? We heard him threaten you."
"If that's what you think you heard... I didn't. He's just some old geezer. Now, thanks for stopping the muggers, but I really have to be going."
Carter knew she couldn't stop her, but this wasn't over. "Julie. I believe you could still be in danger."
"It's New York... who isn't." She called over her shoulder. "But thanks for the concern officer, I'll be fine." Stark turned and continued down the street.
Joss hoped so. She also hoped she didn't just make a mistake letting her go... Finch had better be right about this.