"Finch! Where's Erinson?"
"He's in the taxi pulling in now. You should be seeing him in about ten seconds."
Reese rolled his car forward, blocking the only thoroughfare to the loading site. "Take care of the camera's Finch."
"What are you going to do Mr. Reese?"
"Still working on that... " John's answer sounded breathlessly rushed.
"Hey dick-head! Wanna get that hunk'a shit outta the way! Today!"
The taxi driver's expected reaction helped sell the charade as John popped the hood of his car and over played a look of confused exacerbation. "I'm very sorry... It just stalled... You'll have to back out." John knew Erinson would choice to walk rather than stay in the taxi; he was closer from here.
With a one-finger solute, the cabby angrily backed out, leaving Erinson alone with his bag, and Reese.
Reese used his most apologetic smile. "Excuse me? I was wondering if you could help me push my car into the parking spot. I've got a shuttle to catch and can't leave it blocking the road like this."
Their number checked his watch. "Sure.., just gotta make it quick." He dropped his bag and grabbed a fender.
John smiled, trying hard to look thankful and mask his sinister intent. Erinson was very similar to him in height and build, his hair was dark, cut short and neat to go with his sharp tuxedo. John hoped it would be enough. "So you're not from around here." It wasn't a question.
"Why do you say that?" Erinson answered with suspicion.
"Because you're helping me." John plainly answered.
The man relaxed a bit laughing at the implied stereotype. "Yeah, always heard that about New Yorkers. No, I'm a west coast guy." Erinson noted John's formal attire and decided to probe a bit. "So I gotta ask.. why the tux?"
"Actually I'm on my way to a...'Tool' Convention. Thinking you might be heading that way too?" Reese smiled, motioning to Erinson's attire while locking the car and casually closing the hood.
"You guessed it. So is this your first or have you been to one before?" Erinson asked.
"No. This is my first, not really sure what to expect." Well at least he was honest about that part, John mused.
"I remember my first. Man.., are you going to be blown away! Their stuff is unbelievable - I don't know where to begin! You'll see..."
"Well, I'm looking forward to it."
"Hey! We'd better hurry - last pickup. Sorry about your car, hope you can fix the problem."
"Thanks, but I think the problem's been fixed." A look of confusion flashed across Erinson's face along with Reese's fist. The man stumbled back quickly collected into a solid choke hold. John held him firm, waiting out his last of struggles before rendering him unconscious.
Reese drug his slumped body around to the back of the car and laid him in the trunk. After a quick search of his pockets and bag, John found four guns and two knives, but nothing worth keeping.
"Finch, I'm heading for the shuttle now. You'd better send Fusco for the car. See what he can get from him."
"You're posing as Erinson? Mr. Reese what if they recognize you?"
"I admit... it's not one of my best plans, but we're out of time. Let's just hope I got the ones that saw me. Erinson's shuttle code should get me in, work your magic and connect the dots, Finch." John hoped it was that simple.
"I haven't been able to reestablish a connection. I'm going to try to piggy back our signal on their's, hopefully keep our's open. But Mr. Reese... I don't need to tell you, this may be a hornets nest. Are you sure you shouldn't call the detectives for backup?"
"Finch I'm better off alone, not knowing what I'm up against is tricky enough. I might have to move fast and..."
"Understood... Just please, be careful and don't take any unnecessary risks, you really are going in completely blind."
Reese shared Finch's concerns, but this was what he'd signed up for. "We don't have a choice, Harold. This may be our last chance to figure out what's going on and stop it before it's to late. Don't worry, I've taken precautions."
Finch sat back with a swallow... He had no idea what that possibly meant, but he'd learned never to under-estimate his resourcefulness.
As Reese suspected, with the code, getting aboard the shuttle had posed no difficulties.
"I'm in." John whispered. Though the exuberant chatter of the twenty-something guests would have masked almost anything.
They quickly left the congested traffic of the airport freeways and downtown areas, trading it instead, for the more sparse and undeveloped industrial zones along the river.
Of course Reese recognized the old back alley warehouses and forgotten shipyards; unsavory characters always thought these places to be the perfect off-the-grid locations to conduct business. The rest of the passengers, however, seemed to enjoy this great new unknown - leading him to believe the show hadn't been held in this location before.
Their shuttle pulled off into an over-grown, weed infested lot with nothing more than an old shed about three hundred meters in. "Doesn't look like much... Wait, hold on."
"What .. it M.. .eese?
Dammit. They were already loosing their connection. He relayed what he was seeing despite not knowing if Finch could hear him.
Unless he was watching one hell of a magic trick.., that was no ordinary old shed. John watched the two shuttles in front of them, impossibly pull into a building barely large enough for one. This complicated things. "Finch, they've got an underground set-up."
"...undergrou.. set-..." Was all Finch could make out.
"Mr. Reese?" He couldn't boost their signal any farther. "John, can you hear me?"
The jamming device must have a rotating sequence. Finch muttered to himself, as he battled the infernal technology trying to reestablish their link.
Suddenly his finger's stilled their determined work. Finch slowly rose, the look of shocked dread blanketing his face as he intently listening to his modified receiver decrypt the incoming transmission.
"Sir, the last of the five targets have checked-in, and are in route."
"Excellent. But keep everyone alert. We have to assume we may have been compromised by yesterday's incident. Once the targets have entered the complex, make sure you stick to the plan. They will be first to the holographic chamber. Make sure it's set to maximum and take them there."
"Copy that."
It was a trap! And one which Mr. Reese and their numbers had just walked into.
"Mr. Reese abort... John! John it's a trap!" He prayed John had heard him.
"Oh shit! Fusco! Take a look at this..." Carter spread the six opened files across her desk for Lionel's inspection.
"All these missing person cases date back to this date. Five years running." Fusco straightened, realization mirroring Carter's.
Carter clenched her teeth with a nod. "And that's just the ones that were reported. On a hunch, I cross checked the TSA logs of uncompleted roundtrip flight itineraries and pulled out the ones with military back grounds. And guess what... They're all missing. That's twenty-four more people Fusco. They never left! Looks to me like five to six people have gone missing around this time each year. And look at the type - ex-military or government, arrest records on all of them, and loners that no one will miss. "
"Five to six? This can't be a coincidence. You call Mr. Sunshine yet?"
"Tried," her voice was lined with concern, "goes straight to voice mail."
"How bout the Professor?"
Carter reached for her phone just as it rang. She glanced at Fusco with a speak-of-the-devil, look. "Finch. Were's John? What! What do you mean you lost him!?"