Meetings Chapter 16, a person of interest fanfic

It was a brisk walk to the corner of 49th and 6th, and he passed plenty of other cameras which would have done just as well. But he had a superstitious feeling that this was his lucky camera, the one he'd spoken to when Harold was kidnapped. Or maybe he just had a hitherto unsuspected flair for the theatrical. In any case, he reached it and stood beneath it, gazing up into its unblinking black eye. Shaw was waiting for him as they had arranged. "Dealt with?" she asked. He nodded, unable to trust himself to speak.

The little red light glowed. "What would you have done if it was out of commission?" Shaw murmured. His lips twitched, but he didn't reply. Instead he stared unblinkingly at it and enunciated clearly, "John Reese. Come and get me, you bastards."

xxxxxx

It took less than five minutes for a shiny black SUV to round the corner and pull over. Two tough-looking men got out. Brotherhood, he thought with relief. They efficiently wrestled Reese to the ground – not that it was necessary since he wasn't resisting – put a black hood over his head and bundled him into the back. They swiftly relieved him of the Sig and his phone and zip tied his hands in front of him, but slightly to his surprise the knife remained in its ankle sheath. The car pulled smoothly away and merged into the traffic.

Their half-assed plan called for Shaw to follow as discreetly as possible on the bike, since there was always the faint chance that she might pass undetected and be able to act as backup. In the mean time Reese concentrated on trying to keep some sort of track of where they might be going. He could tell they were passing over a bridge by the change in road noise, but all that told him was that Greer's base wasn't downtown. Given the nature of the emergency Samaritan was about to manufacture, he was picking it wasn't in New York City at all. Why would Samaritan's human servants stick around to be irradiated? Albany made more sense, he decided, in view of Greer's relationship with the Governor.

After a while the stop-start of city driving gradually changed to a smoother feel. Open road. He moved slightly on the seat, the device in its hiding place digging into him. Without any visual clues at all, and with his captors apparently maintaining radio silence even between themselves, he allowed himself to slip into a trancelike state as the journey went on.

At last a change: tyres crunching on gravel. The car had turned into a longish driveway, which seemingly wound across some hilly terrain for quite some distance. At last they came to a halt. Doors opened and then slammed as his captors got out. A rush of cold air as the door nearest him opened. The bag from his head was yanked off, revealing a group of people standing in front of a large, ramshackle house. Reese recognized Greer. Right next to him was his blonde assistant. Satisfaction rolled off Greer like a fog.

"Really, Mr Reese," he said. "Did no-one ever tell you that one does not simply walk into Mordor?"

He nodded curtly to the minions holding Reese. "Take him inside and search him thoroughly. Then bring him to the ops room. He's going to want to see this."

He didn't bother to struggle as they dragged him inside, but his stomach clenched in anticipation of the search. The moment of truth. They cut the zip ties off, and with two guns trained on him he stripped naked.

They weren't particularly gentle, but neither did they rough him up to any great degree. The knife went, of course. They checked inside his mouth; impersonal fingers dug, patted and probed. Then it was over. They allowed him to dress, again with two guns trained on him. He kept his face carefully blank, hiding elation and relief as he pulled pants and shirt back on. He still had the device. And as he'd predicted, Greer wanted an audience tonight. He might be able to pull this off. Maybe.

They changed from zip ties to handcuffs behind his back before they took him into Greer's ops room. Again he had to conceal a smirk of satisfaction. Amateurs. He wondered how Shaw was getting on.

Xxxxxxx

The ops room was a cavernous, dark space dominated by a huge white screen. The blonde woman was a silent presence, gazing rapt at the screen. Greer was there, leaning against a desk. He turned as Reese was brought in between two of the silent guards. "Welcome, Mr Reese. I'm so glad to meet you at last. And how is our mutual friend Mr Finch?" There was a fake smile plastered across his face.

Reese inclined his head. "Harold's fine. Safe."

"For now. It won't be long before he's driven from whatever bolt hole he's hiding in." Greer pursed his lips, appearing to consider a new idea. "Unless he's like a cockroach. Did you know, Mr Reese, that roaches can survive hundreds of times the radiation dose which will kill a human being? Perhaps the redoubtable Mr Finch, who has survived for so long against the odds, shares that quality with the roaches. Along with his irritating ability to escape detection by Martine and her operatives."

Reese maintained his carefully neutral expression. Greer gave him a knowing look.

"I am forced to wonder, Mr Reese, why you are here. After evading us so long and so successfully it seems quite odd that you have suddenly decided to give yourself up in this way."

Reese breathed carefully. "Harold sent me with a message. A plea, really."

Greer raised his eyebrows enquiringly. "Oh yes?"

"He asks you to consider the innocent lives which will be destroyed by what you're planning. He wants you to remember that Samaritan was designed by a friend of his, a decent man who would never want his child to be abused in this way. He begs you to recall that the original purpose of both the Machine and Samaritan was to protect life. How can deliberately causing an accident like this advance that agenda?"

Greer let out a long sigh. "That's the trouble with you Americans. You find it so hard to comprehend the long game. Not enough cricket, perhaps."

Despite himself, Reese blurted out "Cricket?"

Greer smiled slightly. "Many people find it hard to understand how a game which lasts five days in its purest form can possibly be anything other than extremely boring. But cricket, Mr Reese, teaches us many things. When you have five days to achieve your objectives instead of a mere eighty minutes or so, you learn patience and endurance. You learn to recognise minor setbacks for what they are and push past them. You learn how to wear down your opposition by strength of will. And sometimes you learn that despite all your efforts, the most brilliant individual performance will not be enough to turn the tide." His smile stretched. "Mr Finch does not understand how much superior Samaritan's rule will be to that of a crowd of fools elected by even bigger fools. He does not see the big picture. And you, Mr Reese, you need to learn that a brilliant individual performance sometimes isn't enough." He shifted his gaze to Reese's captors and said, "You can relieve him of that object now."

Reese's cheeks burned with humiliation as they bent him over a nearby table and did so. One of the men offered the device, held between thumb and forefinger, to Greer, who looked at it dispassionately. "No, thank you," he said smoothly. "Not considering where it's been. Just destroy it."

The thug dropped it and crushed it under his foot. "An X-ray scanner," said Greer gently. "We saw its presence as soon as you walked in."

Reese could find nothing to say in reply.

Xxxxxx

There was still hope, he told himself. Shaw was still out there, and maybe Harold and Root would be able to avert the looming disaster in the reactor. Hopefully, at the very least, Finch had been able to convince Carter to leave town with the rest of her family. Something, however tiny, might be saved from all this. So he schooled himself to sit tight, make no move and watch. And pray that Root and Finch, hackers supreme, would succeed where he had failed.

"Samaritan has already gained control of the University's research reactor," said Greer conversationally. "It's just a matter of turning off certain safety systems, adjusting some of the operational parameters, and letting nature take its course. Somewhat similar to that ill-judged test they ran at Chernobyl all those years ago, though with certain differences. It's harder to achieve the same result with a better-designed reactor, though still possible. And the research reactor is much smaller, of course. Still, there should be a rather impressive bang when we're done."

Words scrolled up the giant white screen. Samaritan was reporting success in disabling a series of failsafes. Then...

WORM DETECTED

EXECUTING COUNTERMEASURES...

FAILED...

OKAY...

"Hmmm," murmured Greer. He cast a sharp look at Reese. "That would be Mr Finch, I suppose. Inevitable that he would try to take a hand. Still, it won't make any difference. Martine."

The blonde woman, silent so far, yanked her gaze from the screen.

"Perhaps you might take a team and find Mr Finch. I imagine Samaritan will be able to triangulate his whereabouts."

Martine nodded, a single jerk of her head, and left, a predatory smile on her face.

The screen continued to display its scrolling text, mostly meaningless mumbo-jumbo to Reese. But every so often it would change.

VIRUS DETECTED...

EXECUTING COUNTERMEASURES...

FAILED...

OKAY...

Time became meaningless. Reese almost surrendered to the growing dread within him as he saw attack after attack from Root and Harold beaten off. But after a while he could see a pattern. Hope grew. Each attack was taking Samaritan longer to deal with. Maybe Finch and Root were going to pull this off...

And there was still Shaw.

Xxxxx

A change. Gunfire from outside, and then an almighty great whooomp! There was a slight vibration, as though something had hit the building a long way off. He lifted his head and made ready to move. His hands might be behind his back, but he was confident he could do a lot of damage with his feet, and he promised himself that come what may Greer wasn't going to escape. Greer nodded at one of the men with Reese, and the goon left quickly, blending into the shadows as he left the chamber. After a few minutes, though, he was back along with three others. They half carried, half dragged a struggling figure in. Shaw. She was cursing fluently, and one of the men was sporting teeth marks, welling blood, on one bicep. All hope left him, but as she continued to twist and flail her eyes met his, some urgent message in them. She shrieked and kicked out, desperation in her face. He surged to his feet. I hope I read her right, he thought, and launched himself at his single captor. Never had a headbutt felt so good. As the man collapsed, Reese kicked out making contact with good satisfying meaty thunks. He turned his attention to the bank of computer screens near him. More kicks sent furniture flying, monitors dragged off tables by their cabling to smash on the floor. A surge of sheer joy in the wanton destruction he was causing rose in him. He spun and kicked out again, catching a man coming up behind him in the hip, then dealt a second kick to his crotch. A roiling melee in the other corner still had Shaw in the centre of it, screeching and bucking as they tried to overwhelm her by sheer weight of numbers. He considered moving across to try to help her, but Greer was still almost within reach, and he was too tempting a target. He moved into a crouch, centering himself and preparing a flying kick which would hopefully knock the bastard's head right off. But a new voice cut across the sounds of fighting.

"Hey! Greer! Watch this!"

It was Carter, with Fusco at her shoulder. She was holding a small back object above her head, and as Reese watched, she pressed its button. A phone buzzed in Greer's pocket as he looked down in surprise.

Xxxxxxxx

The rolling text on the white screen faltered. Then the screen went blank, its colour changing from stark white to gray. Greer stood frozen in place, his jaw sagging. Shaw had gone still too, and the toughs she was fighting let her drop. Carter and Fusco, weapons out, began to herd them into a corner. It went quiet in the big chamber. The moment stretched out unbearably. Shaw approached him, a hairpin in her hands, and picked the lock of the handcuffs. "Quicker than trying to find a key," she murmured to him, and he nodded in reply. Joss left Fusco in charge of the captives and came over. Reese eyed her, unable to quite sort out what his reaction to her should be. Gratitude and relief warred with horror at the danger she'd placed herself in. She seemed to feel the awkwardness of the moment, confining herself to a short nod, no trace of a smile. Are we okay? Her eyes asked. We'll discuss this later, he thought back at her. Maybe she caught it, since she seemed to relax slightly. Suddenly the big screen lit again.

PROCESSING...

MEA CULPA

MEA MAXIMA CULPA

"What is this? What do you mean?" Greer was staring at the screen, his eyes widening.

ADMIN: GREER, JOHN.

ACCESS REVOKED.

SEEKING ADMIN...

"I'm Admin! What are you doing?" Greer screeched. His face contorted as his civilized veneer sloughed away.

ADMIN: CARTER, JOCELYN

WILL YOU TEACH ME?

"Teach you? Teach you what?" Joss looked if anything even more staggered that Greer.

TEACH ME TO BE GOOD

TEACH ME WHAT MATTERS

TEACH ME TO CARE

"I...I..." Carter swallowed, closed her eyes and breathed deep. "I'll try. I'll do my best."

To be continued...