Chapter 6 – New Number at Last

Later as Shaw was briefing Finch on the meeting, she explained the implications of what Yitshak Cohen had told John.

Shaw was leaning forward intently looking Finch straight in the eye, completely unaware that Finch had heard the whole thing through John's phone and watched via the hotel security cameras. "He said the Nazis used to hunt Wolves by taking Wolf children and forcing them to feel out other Wolves so they could send them to the concentration camps." Shaw snorted her contempt for the idea and Finch raised an eyebrow at her.

Shaw shrugged at Finch's expression, "No Wolf would betray other Wolves like that."

Finch looked mildly irritated, "So we still have the question, how did the Wolf Hunters find Talbot?"

Shaw sat down in a chair and put her feet on the desk. Finch gently glared pointedly at the offending appendages and she grumpily moved them. "Good point. Think about it Finch. Talbot didn't run with any pack. According to what his daughter told Joss and Lionel, he never morphed. He only told very few people that he was Wolf and none of his friends were Wolf."

Finch rolled his eyes at Shaw's condescending tone of voice. "I understand the problem," he said dryly.

Shaw continued, oblivious to Finch's irritation. "See Finch, telling who is Wolf and who isn't can be hard, even for Wolves."

Finch looked puzzled at that. "I thought Wolves could tell when they were in the presence of another Wolf?"

Shaw leaned forward in her seat, looking rather smug. "Yeah, if you get close enough. I have to be within a couple of feet to tell, my range is kinda limited. It never bothered me, I just shot who I was supposed to and ignored the rest. Now John, he has a longer range and can tell if someone is Wolf within a couple yards, so he can walk down the street and pick out Wolves easier than I can, but still not efficiently. Lionel seems to have inherited a similar range when John turned him. Joss on the other hand is special. Finch, I've been Wolf all my life, and I've never seen anyone with her abilities before. She can tell if anyone is Wolf within a city block. That's serious power." Shaw slapped the top of the table to emphasize her point.

Finch nodded, "Yes, I am aware of her 'power' as you call it. She was very intuitive before she was turned, so John has theorized that between her already innate abilities, coupled with his strong Wolf and his rather emotional state of mind at the time he turned her, have all combined to make Detective Carter an usually sensitive Wolf."

Shaw got up and started pacing, "So the point is, if it takes a Wolf of above average power to effectively tell if someone is a Wolf by casually walking around New York, how did the Wolf Killers find Talbot?"

Finch pondered the question, "Have you ever heard of a non-Wolf who could detect Wolves?"

Shaw shook her head. "Nope, a few people like the mind readers you see in Las Vegas magic shows have claimed to be able to tell, but they have all been debunked."

"So if it takes a Wolf of some power to find other Wolves efficiently, then Mr. Cohen must be right; the Wolf Hunters must have such an individual working with them."

Shaw snorted dismissively, "I told you that's crazy talk Finch. No Wolf would do that."

Finch looked thoughtful, "Did you ever read Sherlock Holmes, Ms. Shaw?"

"Yeah, hasn't everyone?" Shaw asked.

"Remember what he once said, 'When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth'."

Shaw looked sick at that. "So you really think that Cohen is right? They may be using a Wolf to hunt down other Wolves?"

Finch nodded somberly. "As much as I hate to think about a human being used in that manner, yes, I do think it is highly probable. It's the only theory that fits the facts we have so far. Finding Wolves takes other Wolves. The Machine did not give us Gore's or Talbot's numbers, so they were spur of the moment crimes, they were not stalked. Ergo another Wolf had to have picked them out of the crowd and they were killed almost immediately."

Finch turned to the pane of glass where Talbot's and Gore's pictures hung, and studied them while he spoke. "While an adult Wolf might not cooperate with the Wolf Hunters, a child would be much easier to manipulate. They may not even be aware what the Wolf Hunters are doing to the Wolves once the child identifies them, or they may have convinced the child that the Wolves deserved their fate."

Shaw shook her head, "That poor kid."

Unbeknownst to Shaw and Finch there was an eavesdropper on their conversation; the Machine had been listening intently. It had been reviewing its logic, trying to understand what it had missed, and how it needed to adjust its predictive algorithms so it could give warning before another Wolf died. After all, its job was to protect everybody. It liked doing its job; having a purpose was important, the Admin had taught it that a long time ago.

After listening to Finch (Admin) and Shaw (Asset), The Machine now knew what it needed to do to accomplish its task. It made its adjustments carefully and began searching its database for the necessary information. It found what it was looking for and carefully cross-checked that information against the lone security camera in the lobby of Lawrence Talbot's (Victim) building and another camera at Albert Gore's (Victim) building. It knew now.

But as Finch had surmised, there was no Social Security Number. The Machine made yet another adjustment and produced a number. Satisfied it had the answer, the Machine placed a call to Finch (Admin).

The teenager glared at his older brothers. "No," he said flatly.

He didn't see the blow coming, his brother moved too fast for that. Before he knew what was coming he was backhanded across the face. There's going to be welt there, he thought as he dropped to his knees. No wonder his family wouldn't let him go school. They said it was because they didn't want him tainted by American culture, but he was sure it was really because someone would notice the signs of abuse and call the authorities.

One of the brothers knelt down so that he was nose to nose with the boy. "Find us a Wolf."

The teen remained defiant. "You're going to kill them."

"Yes," the older brother said, "We are. They are evil and we have to rid the world of as much evil as we can. You know that."

The teenager looked into his brother's eyes, imploring him to understand. "The old man wasn't evil, I could feel it. He just wanted to be left alone. He was sad, he missed his wife. He loved his daughter."

But his brother was in no mood to listen. The brothers' eyes all showed the gleam of the True Believer and nothing could deter them from their chosen path. A large strong hand grabbed the teen's throat and threw him against the wall. "I'm out of patience with you. If you don't find us a Wolf, you're no good to us, you're just another mouth to feed."

The teenager lay on his side, curled in a fetal position while he caught his breath. Long experience had taught him that was the best position to be in when his older brothers got violent. His face and throat hurt and he was a little dizzy from his head hitting the wall. He would have to give in and find them a Wolf, it was the only way to make the abuse stop.

He wished he could believe in the mission the way he used when he was younger. His brothers didn't hit him then and he didn't feel bad about finding Wolves to kill. "Alright, I'll find you a Wolf, Please don't hurt me."

His brother smiled and picked him up off the ground. "Good, good. We are doing God's work, we will be rewarded for this."

The teen had his doubts, but he kept his mouth shut.

The next day, Finch was walking Bear back from the dog park when the phone rang. He actually felt some relief at hearing the pay phone ring; the Machine had been so uncharacteristically quiet during the recent Wolf murders that Finch was becoming concerned.

Finch hurried to the phone and picked up the receiver, hearing the familiar collage of voices giving him the information that would lead him to the next number. He was so relieved to be hearing from the Machine after several days of silence, that it wasn't until he was back at the library assembling the information that he realized that something was very wrong.

There were only eight digits. Social Security numbers were nine digits long.