JOHN REESE

The car slows down as Fusco takes a left turn into a one-way street and comes to a stop in front of the corner building.

"We're here." Fusco comments as he brings up the hand break after he gracefully brings the car into a parking space.

The building is the stereotypical tenement red brick building, with metal fire escape on it's front and there are shops on the ground floor. Wonder if Harold had a type of building that he would always pick for his safe houses because this fits the bill for every safe house John has ever been to since getting this job and if it's like the other safe houses, their unit should be on the top floor. Seeing that it's an old building, he bets that there's no elevators.

"It's on the top floor, Mr. Reese, and I'm already here."

John smirks at Harold's apparent mind reading ability and hopefully Harold brought John's bag of guns with him here because he has a feeling that wasn't the last time they'll meet those operators.

"Need your help to carry this dead weight up the stairs." John turns around and sees Shaw putting her hands on Gary's neck to check for a pulse. "He's out cold."

That's annoying… Gary's quite a large man. "Shock?" John asks.

Shaw just nods to answer his question. He then turns to Fusco, who's also looking back with a grimace on his face as he looks at the unconscious man. Oh right, he has to clean the blood. Can't have his sergeant questioning him on the mysterious origins of a bloody seat.

"Could you help with the bag in the trunk?" John smiles at Fusco, who's still looking at the back seat. Hopefully Finch has some Hydrogen Peroxide upstairs.

Fusco looks back at John with a raised eyebrow. "Sure, first I saved your ass, then I'm your taxi driver for the night. So why not throw in me being a porter to round things out?" Fusco says in his usual sarcastic fashion.

"Knew you'd help." John grins at Fusco before exiting the car, which Fusco followed out not too long after him.

He knows he's being facetious with Fusco but given the chance whether to help or not to help, the detective will always choose the help. He's a good man despite his less than stellar past. But who doesn't have a checkered past these days? Carter.

John opens the door revealing an unconscious Gary slumping forward and Shaw's blank face staring back at him. Looking down at Gary… geez, the man had it rough, pale, caked in sweat, torn bloody clothes, his wounds tied with Israeli bandages. At least Shaw managed to stop the bleeding for now.

"Heads or feet?" John asks the former ISA operative.

She looks between him and Gary, then sighs. "Feet."

Shaw really doesn't look like she wants that, but it's the most optimal choice for them in their current position.

John moves Gary's body with Shaw's help and grabs the man by his armpits, then drags him out from the car with Shaw sliding out in tow. After a bit of readjusting their position, John has Gary's back on his chest and Shaw's carrying Gary's by his thighs while looking forward.

"Would be better if we had a stretcher or something more ergonomic, but beggars can't be choosers." Shaw comments as they make a move.

Just as walk around the back of Fusco's car, John can see Fusco struggling to take out the duffle bag.

"Ughh… Jesus Christ, what the hell is in this bag? Gold bars?" Fusco asks after finally getting the bag out of the car.

"Come on Fusco, it's not that heavy." John comments as they pass by Fusco.

Honestly… that bag was incredibly heavy, and Fusco might be right, there might be gold bars in there, among other stuff. If Gary continues to be passed out, he might just dig into there and see what's in it.

They take the lead, carrying Gary into the building with Fusco right behind John, making small complaints and grunting as they make into the building. After twelve flights of stairs, they finally reach the top floor and Fusco is practically wheezing his lungs out.

John looks to his right to see if the safe house is down the hall when…

"Over here." Harold's voice echoes in the hall, causing John to look towards the left side.

Harold standing by an opened door waving at them to come and without a second thought they both quickly make their way into the safe house. The moment all of them went through the door, Harold closes it behind them with a loud thump -if that door is like any of the other safe houses, nothing other than explosive or a blow torch will get through it- and Harold quickly walks forward to guide them towards a bed in the back of the safe house.

John and Shaw quickly dump Gary on to the bed just as he hears a loud thump coming from the living room. That must be Fusco dropping the beg on the floor. John looks on at Shaw, quickly assessing any additional damage from their journey up the stairs.

"Here Ms. Shaw." Harold comes back into view holding a really large red bag. "Medical supplies."

Shaw turns away from her impromptu patient to quickly grab the bag from Harold. "You got Ringer's solution and blood in here?"

"I couldn't find what's Mr. Cook's blood type are, so I hope two bags of O- blood are enough." Harold gives a quick nod. "As for the other things, I had a doctor friend help me with the bag."

John has a few ideas about which doctor friend that helped Harold with this and two bags of blood rules out the illegal ones.

"Two is good enough." Shaw comments as she kneels down to go through the medical bag. The way she goes through the bag with adapt precision tells him that this isn't her first rodeo and she's very comfortable with this.

Was she a medic by training? That was never stated in any of her non-redacted marine files when Harold debriefed him during Shaw's number.

"You know what you're doing, don't you?" John concludes while he stares at Shaw, putting all the medical knick-knacks on the bed-side table.

Shaw didn't reply to John's question, but she did give him a shit-eating grin as she continues doing her stuff.

"Miss Shaw is more clarified in medical matters than any of us, seeing that she has a MD." Harold comments in his nonchalant voice while giving John a side smile.

"Really?" John asks in amazement. When she said she learned a few things, she really was underselling it.

He's trying to do the mental math on how old she was when she got her MD before joining the Marines and then ISA. She's gotta be really young when she got her degree.

"Yeah." Sameen gives him a smug smile. Guess even she can feel a modicum of pride. "Graduated right here in the city, just a bit north of where we are."

The only medical university he can think of from there is Columbia…

"And you choose to join the Marines after?" John teases the smaller woman. Gone from being a high-flying doctor to joining a bunch of crayon munchers. There must be an interesting story behind that changing of her life course.

At that comment Shaw stops as she was about the inserting the needle to set up an IV line and says. "Fuck you, army boy."

"Miss Shaw was one of the youngest doctors in the country." Harold comments, trying to move along the conversation. "But Miss Shaw isn't licensed to practice… anywhere."

Looks like Harold can't help taking a jab as well, even if his face doesn't show it. John really needs to bring Harold to a game of poker together one of these days.

Shaw groans. "Gee thanks, you sound like my mother." She scowls at them after she finishes setting up the IV line. "Anyway… from what I saw earlier, Gary here has two entrance and exit wounds. He also has venous bleeding in both wounds."

John nods at the brief damage assessment which lines with the firepower he experiences earlier. "Guess those guys really love their black tipped bullets."

Shaw snorts, "Yeah, no shit. If we're lucky, the pressure from the packing gauze will stop the bleeding, but if it didn't… then I'll need to stich up the vein and that's going to take a bit of time with the things we have here. God, I'll kill for a Bowie machine right now. Shit, would have made things way easier."

John has no idea what a Bowie machine is, but he'll take a gander that it's something useful just by the tone of Shaw's voice.

"Are you going to do it now?" Harold inquires with some mild trepidation. John knows Harold isn't squeamish with blood, but he probably doesn't want to take any chances when they're sequestered here.

Shaw shakes her head. "Not now. I'll treat his shock with Riger's solution first. After he wakes up and gives us what we want, then I'll see to his bleeding and give him blood."

Efficient use of her skill and time, Gary will have to tell them everything if he wants her to take care of his bleeding, however… by the look on Harold's face, he doesn't agree to the ethics of that procedure.

John smiles at his friend and says. "Doctor's orders."

Harold doesn't say anything back at him and just gives him a raised eyebrow that says 'Really?'.

"Do you have a wire hook or something for the bags?" Shaw asks as she holds an IV bag and tries to look for where she can hang it. Maybe she can hang it on the headboard.

"I'm sure I can find you something in the closet." Harold quickly turns around and walk away.

"I'll go check on Fusco." John gives Shaw a nod and turns around.

"Sure." Shaw replies dismissively as she continues to treat her patient.

As he left the 'bedroom area' John was finally able to take a proper look at the new safe house and it looks almost the same as the others. Wonder if Harold used the same contractor and designers or the higher probability, he just used a standard plan for all the safe houses. The living, dining, and kitchen have no walls to separate them into an open floor style plan.

That's when he spots Fusco, sitting on the sofa, looking up and out of breath with the duffle bag near his feet.

John makes his way to Fusco and says. "Tired already, detective?"

"I'm beat… if it was so easy for you, why don't you try carrying that bag of lead up twelve flights of stairs?" Fusco gives him a friendly glare as his head continues to look up.

"Already did." John replies with a smirk on him while Fusco just looked at with an eye of scepticism.

Oh, right… he needs to give Fusco something. He walks to the kitchen area and check underneath the sink… and gotcha.

"Here." John went back to Fusco and tosses the bottle to Fusco, who catches it with dexterity John didn't know he had.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" Fusco asks as he examines the spray bottle.

"It's for your car. Hydrogen Peroxide is great at cleaning blood." John cooly explains to Fusco.

The detective gives John a look. "Glasses planned on getting rid of evidence or something?"

"No, but I think experience told him people tend to bleed while doing this job." John gives Fusco an eerie smirk, which Fusco isn't buying.

After a moment of amusement, John changes his tone to a serious one. "I think it's best you go back home, Fusco."

That grabbed the detective's attention, making him frown and lean forward closer to John. "After all the crap that happened tonight. Your car getting totalled, the gunfight and explosion? You need every help you can get."

John knew it wasn't easy… "It's not that simple, Fusco…"

The detective cuts John offs and points to the bedroom. "Yeah, simplify it, you got an asshole in a suit with two holes in him in there… Look, Carter told me what she did for Glasses earlier today and the weird things she found… I've been helping you guys for almost two years now and I can see when the both of you are in trouble."

"Four holes." John clarifies with a small smile, trying to calm the curly haired detective.

Fusco shakes his head and snort. "Yeah, that makes it even better… You don't even know who's after him, do you?"

John sometimes forgets that Fusco earned his badge. "Actually, we know who's coming to get him… but we don't know what they're capable of and I think we didn't scratch the surface of what they can do."

From everything he knows so far, Gary's employers have more resources than most countries and he has a feeling what encountered tonight was just the appetizer.

Fusco doesn't say anything and just stares back with a frown, so John continues. "That's why I want you to be back at home with your son, just in case."

The detective recoiled slightly at the mention of his son, and then he sighs. "You think they caught the car's plate number?"

"I can't discount the fact that they might have." John instantly replies.

Fusco groans as he gets up from the chair and stares up at John. "When you put it that way… " he nods. "… try not to die. You're a pain in my ass, but I like you guys. It be a shame if one of you dies."

John can't help but smile at that. Things sure have come far from when they first met. "One more thing. It's better if you ditch the car, just in case."

Fusco gives him a look of pain. "Really? That's my take home car. How am I going to explain to the lieutenant when I come for work without it?"

"I'm sure you can come up with something." John grins at Fusco. "You think quick on your feet."

Fusco deadpans at John before turning away. "Can't believe I was actually worried about you. I'll put the car somewhere until you guys settle this."

Just as Fusco was about to open the door, Harold comes into John's peripheral vision.

"Your assistance tonight, Detective, was greatly appreciated." Harold says with the utmost sincerity.

"Yeah, thanks for the ride and the med kit, Fusco." Shaw says with a feigned sincerity that anyone can pick up.

"Yeah, see you later." Fusco gives them all a nod and left the safe house.

"Is that a good idea? He won't have backup if the collective goes after him." Shaw comments after the door closes.

That word again… John turns to look at Shaw, who has a neutral look on her. They did agree to share information earlier.

"It's for the best. Mr. Cook's employers are coming after him, not the detective." Harold answers as he turns stiffly towards the shorter woman.

The former operative just shrug and looks around the room they're in. "Where's Bear?"

That was a good question but… "Didn't think you even liked the dog."

Shaw raises a single brow at him and says. "Like him? He's half the reason why I'm sticking around."

Didn't know someone with her complications could even like animals. Guess he learns something new every day.

"Bear is back in the library with Mr. Tao." Harold answers her, which causes John to look at Harold.

"Is it wise to leave him in the library again?" John questions his friend.

"I wouldn't call it wise to leave someone with Mr. Tao's tendency to get into trouble alone, but we don't have many options. Plus, I'm sure Bear will keep Mr. Tao in line until we get back." Harold answers as he walks to the kitchen and boils some water.

That's a completely valid reason, and speaking of Leon…

"Did Leon find anything from those accounts? Maybe we can find out where Gary's boss is located." John asks Harold, who's preparing a mug to make his favorite tea and Shaw looks at the both of them with a curious glint in her eyes.

"So far? Nothing definitive." Harold answers as he pours hot water into his mug. "That's why he's still in the library, going through another tree branch where the last one failed to yield any results."

Well, that's a dead end…

"Let me guess, there're hundreds of accounts and almost every account holder looks real or is a real person?" Sameen deadpans as she takes a seat on the sofa and puts her legs on the duffle bag.

"Guess you encountered something similar in the past three years?" John asks. The memory of their conversation before the house exploded was still fresh in his mind.

"Something like that." Shaw gave him a slight smile when she answered.

"Thousands Miss Shaw, hundreds of thousands of authentic accounts." Harold says in a dire tone while he stirs his mug. "Would either of you like tea?"

"I'm fine, thanks." Shaw has a look on her face that John can't decipher when she answers.

He just shakes his head to answer Harold. That was more than what Harold told him earlier. Guess things really escalated since the morning.

"How about the server?" John asks his friend, causing Shaw's eyes to snap at him -interesting-. "Did you manage to get anything out of it?"

"Despite trying to every physical exploit I know about for the CPU, I couldn't break the encryption." Harold stops to take a sip of his tea. "Then, when…"

Just as Harold was about to continue, a loud snort cut through…

"Lemme take a quick guess." Shaw quips in. "The software on the server completely stumped the shit out of you, and when you restarted the server to give it another crack, everything on the server was mysteriously wiped clean, down to the firmware."

John's brows are arched with curiosity. The way she laid it all out sounds like she had the same exact experience. Guess he shouldn't be surprised if she said she's been chasing Gary's organization for three years.

Harold pauses for a moment as he stares at Shaw before saying. "Not the way I would describe it, but in general what you said applied. I assume you have encountered such things prior?"

Shaw stretches her neck as she answers. "Not me personally, but the eggheads back in the activity did."

John turns his attention to Shaw and says. "You did agree to tell us what you know, and I have a feeling that you know more than we do."

"It would be embarrassing if I knew less than the two of you." Shaw mutters to herself as shakes her head then nods to John. "You tell me what you know first, then I'll say my part." Shaw then points to the metal meshed window. "By the way, we're in a faraday cage, aren't we?"

"Yes." Harold answers instantly.

That's something new about this safe house compared to the others. Wonder if that's the reason why Harold told Fusco to drive them here.

"Good… at least the chances of those fuckers listening in is zero." Shaw let's out a sigh of satisfaction at the end as she leans deeper into the seat.

That's overtly paranoid and Shaw doesn't look like the paranoid type… that's concerning. He shares a look with Harold, who thinks the same, then his friend nods to him, saying it's fine to share what they know about the number.

Exhaling a little, John takes a seat on a couch opposite Shaw and starts explaining. "We believe that there are two very secretive groups going to war with each other and Gary there got caught in the middle of that when his firm lost almost all of his money. Now his group wants him dead for losing billions." While Shaw's face remains emotionless, he pauses for a second before continuing. "We haven't figured out who attacked the money, but that doesn't matter since we know it's Gary's employers that's trying to kill him. What we've learned about his employers is that the upper management only has three people in it but that might be based on wrong information, other than that they're incredibly sophisticated, resourceful and well-funded from how they cover their money trail and also from that SCIF we found."

That incited a small reaction from Shaw. "A SCIF? Where? And that's where you got the server?"

"The Flatiron District and yes, that's where Harold got it." John answers, then continues on. "The SCIF used to host some kind of server farm and a phone exchange before it was abandoned a year ago. We tried to find out what was in there but couldn't find anything about it other than whatever was there needed a lot of bandwidths. Whoever Gary's employers are, they're more powerful than most of the organizations we've faced before if what happened tonight was just the surface of what they can do. I have my suspicions about his employers, but Harold here doesn't share my view and I can take a guess that you would know better." He ends with a smile. "So, how did we do?"

Harold is still by the kitchen island, leaning his back onto it and drinking his tea. Shaw meanwhile just stared at him for several seconds before a grin broke that blank face and she started snickering.

"Did we miss our mark or something?" John asks with a slight smirk of his own.

Shaw shakes her head. "No… you pretty much got everything right…"

That's good…

Shaw continues "… Except for the whole thing about two groups having secret war thing."

Huh?

Shaw's amusement left her as she continued. "It was never two groups; it was just the one."

… Oh.

What the…

Harold jumps into the conversation with a frown on him. "That would mean Mr. Cook's employers intentionally caused the market to crash, resulting in themselves losing almost six billion dollars just to have a reason to 'fire' an employee?"

Was that just a pun?

Shaw just shrugs at Harold's comment and says unimpressively. "Guess they have a lot of money?"

"That's a lifetime's worth of money!" Harold protested as he puts down the mug.

Shaw slowly turns to Harold with an arched brow. "Seriously, dude? I knew you were rich, but I didn't know you were so far gone with it."

Harold looks quite offended by the accusation that he's an out of touch billionaire and… John kinda agrees with Shaw on that. His friend is a lot of things, but the man loves his luxuries and has a general disregard for the amount of money that would change the average joe's life.

"Even if this 'firm' has triple that amount of money, burning it all away is a bit nonsensical." John comes in to defend friend.

Her attention went back to John. "I guess if they're LARPing as a corporation, Gary there is unionized, and it's really hard to fire someone without just cause."

John just gives Shaw an unamused stare, which causes her to grin and continue. "They either don't care about money, or they had planned the crash in a way that they don't lose any money and if experience tells me anything, my bet is that they had a plan."

"That's… improbable…" Harold says with a thinking look on his face. "The amount of sophistication needed to plan and organize such a thing is well beyond what most of the best investors are capable of."

"You've seen a glimpse of their tech. Do you actually believe they're incapable of doing that?" Shaw quickly retorts.

Harold doesn't say anything but the look on his face tells John everything…

They could have done it.

John looks at Shaw and says. "We've said what we know. Now's your turn, Shaw."

Shaw leans in forward with a serious look on her. "First of all, this group has a name; it's Collective Service Solutions."

That's an odd name for a criminal group.

"Service Solutions?" Harold asks as he takes a seat on the couch beside John.

Shaw nods. "Yeah… they do consultancy for criminals. That's why the sniper bitch earlier referenced it as the firm. Me, on the other hand? I think they drank their own Kool-Aid on this one."

That's a new one… haven't heard of a criminal consultant before. He and Harold shared a look with each other. Looks like it's a first for Harold too.

Shaw lets out an audible sigh and leans back into her seat. "Guess I should start from the beginning."

John nods. "You said you've been chasing them for three years?"

"Yeah." There's a distant look in Shaw's eyes. "My first encounter with these fuckers was DL656."

A flash of recognition appears on both his and Harold's faces. "The one that went down at Harrisburg and killed the Governor?"

Guess that's why Shaw practically called Gary a terrorist.

"Research gave the number to ISA?" Harold inquires softly, like that event touched Harold personally.

Shaw nods. "Yeah, me and my mentor at that time got the number, but we only got a single number. I'm not going to bother retelling the stake out other that it was boring, and our number was clean as a whistle… until a week or so before that flight. That's when I first encountered CSS's tech, but we got nothing that tells us about the plot until the day of the flight when the number drove to Harrisburg. I caught the fucker before he could do anything, but there were other numbers that Research didn't know about." Shaw shakes her head in frustration. "The guy was a patsy, he, and any people we suspect were killed not long after the flight went down. It was a fucking trap. Those Collective fucks were playing us like a damn fiddle."

… The machine couldn't detect relevant threat number?

How's that possible? And by the look of disbelief on Harold's face, it looks like he didn't think what Shaw said was possible, yet it happened.

"I'm guessing the official report of the flight going down because of bombs being planted in the engines are wrong?" John questions.

"Yeah…" Shaw stares out the window. "… my guess is that Control covered it up. Biggest terrorist attack since 9/11 and I guess Control can't jeopardize the program because Research missed the other two perp."

"Two? You know what took down the plane?" Harold asks.

Shaw snorts. "Of course, saw it with my own two eyes. They used stingers."

Stingers? What the hell?

"That's one bitch of a curve ball, isn't it?" Shaw's gallows humor is evident in her smile. "I was surprised too when I found the asshole had a case of one in the back of his truck."

Everything Shaw said tells him that this was a big plot that needed a lot of premeditated planning. Planning that the machine should have picked up…

There's a deep frown on Harold's face as he thinks about what Shaw said.

With neither of them commenting, Shaw continues. "The guy that was training me at that time goes by the name Hersh."

That sounds familiar…

"A guy around 6ft with a blading curly hair and a face that looks like he was hit with a bag of bricks?" John has a feeling that's the same guy.

"Shit… You met him before?" Shaw has a curious look in her eyes.

"We met in a hotel, and I stabbed him in the gut." John quips lightly.

A full-blown grin appears on Shaw. "Nice. So, you were the asshole that sent his ass to the hospital."

"Thought you would get slightly offended." John remarked with a raised brow.

Shaw let out an amused snort. "Nah, fuck Hersh. Dickhead tried to kill me."

Ah… so he's the one that stuck Shaw with that poison.

"Fair." John gives Shaw a nod. All the while Harold was just looking at the both of them like they had a few screws loose and he might not be entirely wrong.

"Anyway…" Shaw her hand and in continuing on with the main topic at hand. "… During that mission, Hersh mentioned the method of communication and procedure that our number used was similar to a number he got in '08, but that time Hersh along with his partner stopped the number from blowing up a bank in New York."

That meant this CSS figured out how the machine detected, then foiled their plan and found a way to counter the machine for their next attack… How would they even know that there was an all-seeing machine that figured out their plan? He has a bad feeling about this…

"What bank and when did it happen?" Harold asks in a calm voice.

Huh… he didn't think of asking that and it's in 2008…

Shaw frowns for a second to search for the answer. "I think Hersh said it was in June and it was Bear Stearns."

"That's a month before they collapse and started the financial crisis…" John's thinking out loud. "Unless they wanted to trigger the financial crisis earlier… but why would they bomb the bank when they could have easily done it like today?"

Shaw just shrugs. "Who knows, maybe 'upper management' was bored and wanted to kill a lot of people for shits and giggles."

Harolds chimes in with horror in his voice. "If this was indeed the first time ISA has ever gotten a number against CSS, then that means the shooting down of the airliner must be some kind of twisted test to their new capabilities against Research and ISA."

There's a sick feeling in John's stomach at the thought of someone willfully condemn hundreds of innocent people to death just for a 'test'.

"My thoughts exactly." Shaw gives Harold a deep nod. "Aren't you a smarty pants, Harold? I only figure that out two years ago."

That's '11 and if '09 was a test, then that means…

"There's been more terroristic/mass casualty events in the homeland since 2010…" John just made a horrific realization. "… are you saying that CSS is involved in all of them?"

Harold is staring back at John with horror in his eyes.

"Not all of them, but most of it, yes." Shaw answers with a slight tinge of anger in her voice. "We've been getting a bombardment of numbers since 2010, but unlike the shooting down of the airline, these numbers were easier, predictable, and actually preventable."

"They were giving you a handicap?" John speculates.

Shaw clenches her fist. "Yeah, that's what I think now. I didn't think too much about the numbers at that time because each number was such an open and shut case with the numbers having actual motives, unlike Harrisburg. It was after I looked at all the numbers I handled, was when I noticed a pattern. All of them received clean money over a span of a few months before I got their numbers."

"I'm guessing CSS gave that money… Was the money used for their attack?" John interrupts.

Shaw shakes her head. "No, we had a clear transaction chain for the monies that were used for all the attacks, but I can't discount the fact that might be involved in the dirty money as well. Anyway, the clean money has the same characteristics of the clean money from the number in '09. That's when I started my investigation." Shaw turns to Harold. "Like you, I started with the money, but that was a dead end and I quote the accountant in ISA, 'an accountant's hellscape'. So, I followed up with any plausible investigative path, but it all lead me to nowhere, like a fucking infinity loop. My investigation was stuck at a dead end with no other path for me to go… not until I got that new hobby from Harold here."

John turns to Harold and sees a look of recognition. When did that happen?

"Root?" Harold whispers with a look of shock on him.

What?

Shaw snaps her finger at Harold with a grin on her face. "Gotta give it to ya, Harold. That was one of the best pieces of advice I've ever gotten."

"You sure Root's part of all of this?" John presses Shaw.

"A hundred percent." Shaw gives him a look as if what he said was stupid. "Maybe not involve with Gary here but she's part of this group."

What's the coincidence of this happening? John's coming to grips with the revelation, but Harold still looks shocked. Shit… Knew that the kidnapping still has some lingering affects on him, and John really tried to help but the man doesn't want talk about it.

Shaw's eyes darts between him and Harold. "How come you guys didn't know about that? It only took me a few knocked down door to figure that out."

John shrugs. "Never really thought she's part of any group. She seemed to be the lone wolf type."

While he answered Shaw, he couldn't help but notice the deep frown on Harold's face. Did they miss something obvious?

"Anyway, that group of nerds led me to…"

Realization sparked in him, and he couldn't help but say. "The New Jersey mob."

"Yahtzee." Shaw grins at John. "Up until two days ago, Gary Bidwell was the mob's handler in the Collective."

There's a small, satisfied look on Shaw's face as she finishes up her explanation and it's not unwarranted.

Hmm… if they're involved with the mob. Does that mean Elias knows about them? Something for them to check out after they get Gary to safety.

After several seconds of silence, Harold softly asks. "Do you know the name of the group leader?"

Shaw nods and answers with a smirk. "A woman that goes by the name Pauling."

Wait, isn't that… John looks at Harold, whose eyes are wide with recognition. The name of who's trying to kill Gary has been in front of Harold the entire day.

Then that means… "Gary made a reference to his boss, and her name is Fran."

Shaw's eyes widen slightly. "Guess we know the full name then, Francine Pauling… You ever heard of that name before?"

"I don't think I have…" John and Harold shared another look with each other. "… but I think we might know an old friend who does. Whether he'll answer is up in the air."

"I wanna met that person… but I won't hold my breath on getting anything important from him." Shaw looks unimpressed and continues to elaborate. "Everyone I encountered who knows about or worked for CSS, fears them more than anything else."

Huh… but Gary's attitude towards his boss sounded more familial.

"Guess it's good Gary's an asshole then, huh?" John smirks back at Shaw.

Just as Shaw was about to reply, she's rudely interrupted…

"Auuuggghhhh…" a pained groan echoes out of the bedroom.

Speaking about the devil.

Shaw's head snaps at the sound and a second later she jumps up from the couch to make her way back to the bedroom.

"What do you think?" John glances at Harold.

His glasses wearing friend pauses slightly then answers. "I think this Collective may know about the existence of the machine and actively know how to counter it." There's a grim tone in Harold's voice. "Looks like this number just lead us to a group of criminal terrorists that can fight against the machine and win. We may have just fallen into a lion's den, and the only way out is through a pit of snakes, Mr. Reese."

Sounds about right. They both get up from their seat and make their way to the bedroom.

Just as John enters the room…

"YOU!" Gary points at Harold, who's behind John. "You're the asshole from yesterday! What the fuck are you doing here? I knew not to trust you fuckers. You assholes work for the firm!"

Gary tries to scramble out of the bed -honestly it's a pathetic sight for John to witness-, but a ticked off Shaw holds the larger man in place. "Don't fucking pull the needle, you dumb fuck. If we wanted to kill you, I could have slit your throat when you were out, or I could have just shot you in the head back in the warehouse."

Gary stops trying to move but continues to glare at John and Harold. That seems to calm him down slightly.

Harold moves forward. "I'm sorry for deceiving you yesterday, Mr. Cook… we help people who are in need, but we didn't understand the exact nature of your situation."

"You fucking said you worked for the bitch." Gary growls at Harold, who doesn't budge.

"No, I didn't. You were the one that made that assumption and I merely played on that assumption." Harold calmly explains.

Gary just stares at Harold before… "Oh…"

"God, you're such a dumbass." Shaw gives the injured man a scathing look.

"Fuck you, bitch." Gary glares at Shaw, who just grins at him.

"Do you know why your boss is trying to kill you?" John moves nearer to the man.

Gary gives him a stupid look. "Do I look like someone who fucking knows what the fuck is going on?"

"Not really…" John lets out a disappointed sigh.

Harold's now standing by the bed. "Mr. Cook, has your organization ever done something like this previously? A former colleague suddenly disappearing or lost contact."

That gave Gary a pause as a frown slowly deepens then after a minute his eyes widens.

"No, that can't be…" Gary softly mutters. "… she wouldn't." He shakes his head in denial.

"Christ, stop muttering to yourself and tell the class already." Shaw glares at the man.

"Some of the guys that joined the firm before me retired, had a party and everything, but not long after they left the firm, I stopped getting any messages from them. I've always thought they fucked off to some island with all the money we've made…" He has this voice of realization before his voice became hard. "… Ross, Chevy, Fred, Virgil… the bitch killed them all, didn't she?"

"You would know better." John answers the clearly distressed man.

"I knew she can be fucking ruthless, but I never expect that bitch to actually kill any of us, fuck I never thought she could kill people she 'cares' about." Gary rubs his face. "You know… she was such a sweet girl when I first met her…" There's a melancholic tinge in his voice.

Sweet girl? Gary here is around his own age so… How old was Pauling when they first met? There's so many questions to unpack here.

Gary's eyes turned from melancholy to rage. "Now… fucking Francine… after 13 years of working for her, this is how she's repaying me?! Trying to put me down li-like I'm some kind of wild dog. Now I got two holes in my body, all of my money gone!"

"Pauling?" John asks the man. It's not that he doesn't trust Shaw, but it's better to get right from the source.

Gary looks at him like he's dumb. "Yeah? Who the fuck else is trying to kill me? That bitch…"

"God, shut the fuck up." Shaw cuts Gary's rant. "So, fucking what your boss tried to kill you? Join the club buddy." Shaw gives John a glance at the end.

Just as Gary was about to open his mouth again, Shaw spoke up first.

"Look, they might be doing this for some weird sense of charity…" Shaw jerks her thumbs at him and Harold. "… but I'm not like them. I don't really care if trash like you die, but you have information I want, and I'm not going to patch you up until you tell me what I want."

Gary glares at Shaw for a moment before a spike of pain flashes through him, causing him to look down at his body. Then his eyes dart between the three-standing people in the room before letting out a frustrated sigh.

"My health for info, huh?" He glares at Shaw. "You're a shit negotiator, you know that?"

Shaw smiles eerily. "People have never been my strong suit."

John can't help but think why Shaw became a doctor first with her predisposition.

"Fine. What do you want to know?" Gary leans back into his bed after Shaw lets him go.

"How about we start with something simple?" John flashes his trademark smile. "Give us a description of Pauling and is Pauling her real name."

Gary raises an eyebrow at him. "She has other aliases, but in an official context, it's always been Francine Pauling. She's short, around your height…" He points at Shaw. "… a redhead, with freckles, she sometimes wears glasses, I'm not sure if it's a disguise or she actually needs them, no matter what clothes she wear it's always purple, and she's cheerier than you miserable assholes. Now that I think about it, I don't know if it's an act or she's a psychopath."

"Cheery?" He can't help but ask that. Since that's the first time he heard about a boss of a crime organization being described like that.

"Yeah, was a bit off-putting the first time I met her. She always has this cheerful smile on her with that very happy and optimistic attitude." Gary elaborates.

Huh… guess there's always a first for everything.

"How old is she and when was the first time you met her?" Harold inquires.

Gary scratches his chin. "Met her at downtown New York in… I think it was a month before spring of 2000 and she said she was 21 when she recruited me into the firm."

"She said was 21?" John questions in a skeptical voice. That's a bit young…

Gary just nods like there's nothing wrong. "Yeah, she said she was 21, but between you guys and me? I clocked her for 20 or just turned 20."

"Why the fuck would a soldier like you join some 20-year-old's organization?" Shaw gives the man a scowl.

Gary shakes his head and glares back at Shaw. "What the fuck would you do if some chick suddenly appears in your apartment with a pistol aiming at you and proceeds to tell you everything about your life? She knew everything, even shit, that people wouldn't know about. I still don't fucking know how she knows about those things."

The way Shaw and Gary describe CSS information gathering ability… compared to the CIA, the agency can't hold a candle to some criminal organization.

"I would shoot first and ask questions later." Shaw retorts instantly.

Gary rolls his eyes at Shaw. "Yeah, sounds all good when you have hindsight and not in that position."

Ignoring Shaw's comment. Somehow that sounds just like how Harold recruited John two years ago, except for the gun.

Shaw doesn't relent and presses forward. "Was this before or after your family died?"

There's an instantaneous reaction from the man as he grabs Shaw's left arm and the former operative quickly draws out her pistol and presses it at the man's crotch. Everything happened in the blink of an eye, and John barely had the chance to stop things from escalating.

"Don't bring them into this." The man has fire in his eyes as he seethes at Shaw, who looks calm as a cucumber.

"Let go of me or I'll shoot your balls off." Shaw says calmly while glaring at the enraged man. "And answer the question."

John's hands twitch in anticipation of physically intervening in this confrontation, but with Shaw's finger on the trigger. There's a risk of her pulling the trigger and he really doesn't want to deal with a ball-less Gary the entire night/day -pretty sure they passed midnight a few hours ago-.

"Miss Shaw, please remove your pistol away from Mr. Cook's extremities." Harold said evenly, trying to deescalate the situation. "And Mr. Cook, I'm sure this is the exact reaction Miss Shaw is trying to get out from you when she referenced your family."

Gary's eyes never moved away from Shaw while Harold tries to reason with him, but slowly John can see the tension receding away from the man's muscles.

"… It was after." Gary says somberly after he lets go of Shaw's wrist. Shaw, true to her word, puts away her pistol but continues to have a glare off with Gary.

How did Shaw know Gary had a family? That particular piece of information didn't turn up when Harold did his investigation.

"If you're willing to answer and you don't have to answer if you don't want to…" Harold said in a kindly voice. "… is why did you join CSS?"

Gary finally stops his glaring match with Shaw after a minute and leans back into the bed. "What happened to my family was the main reason for me joining… Francine gave me gave me an opportunity and the resources I needed."

Was his family killed by some organized crime group? Back in the warehouse tunnels, he said he something about keeping the chaos in check…

"But I bet the money was good, right?" John chirps in with a small smile on him.

Gary's eyes dart to John with a look he can't describe. "More than I've ever seen."

"So you joined a terrorist organization for money and power?" Shaw concludes unsympathetically.

Gary glares back at Shaw and growls. "That shit again. The firm mainly deals with organized crime in this country and out, but we've never dealt with that shit!"

"Sorry the break it to you, but your boss does. You fuckers colluded with terrorists and brought down a plane back in '10." Shaw says nonchalantly.

A look of disbelief appeared on Gary's face. "What? That's not… Francine is a lot of things, but I've never seen her done anything like that and I would have bailed out earlier if that's even true."

"Believe it or not, it doesn't matter because the MO behind the terrorist attacks is the same as your organization." Shaw explains coolly.

There's a deep frown on Gary's as he still doesn't believe Shaw's accusations, but by the look in his eyes there're doubts about his beliefs.

"Let's get back to the topic." Harold cuts in. "What is your position in CSS?"

Gary tears his eyes away from Shaw and lets out a sigh. "VP of operations for Northeast NA."

John and Harold exchange glances with each other… VP of operations? Meanwhile, the unmoving Shaw has a deadpan expression on her.

"You guys really like your corporate lingo, don't you?" John quips.

Gary just shrugs. "Don't ask me. Francine has been using it since the beginning, and I never questioned it."

Huh… wonder if they have those corporate culture crap that's hot right now. Would be funny to see a group of criminals going to some corporate retreat in a ski lodge.

"Putting aside the cringe worthy terminology." John's pretty sure Shaw is incapable of cringing. "How big is your region?"

"Everything north of Maryland and east of Toronto, which includes the city." Gary instantly replies.

John's eyes widen slightly and say. "That's a lot of people to manage."

"Not really. The firm is quite selective about who they choose as clients." Gary explains.

"How about the other regions? I'm assuming you guys follow how the census breaks up the country into regions. What about your colleagues?" John asks in curiosity.

Gary shakes his head. "I don't know. Company policies state that employees can't disclose their position in the organization with other employees and Francine is very anal about following company policies. You know… the whole compartmentalization and shit."

Well… There isn't much of a point in asking for his colleague's name. If they're strict about compartmentalization, they most likely use aliases. However, there's one person…

"How about Root?" Shaw quickly followed up, taking the question right out of John's mouth. "What's her position in the collective?"

Gary frowns at the name. "You know that bitch?"

"We've met before." John answers with a grim smile. If they ever meet again, he's going to put a bullet in her.

"Yeah? Must be a shit experience. She's a stuck-up bitch." Gary remark with an edge in his voice -what did Root do to him?-. "She's along with Francine and another guy I've never met are the upper management of the whole thing."

… What?

Looking at Harold, looks like he has the same reaction. Why would she go to all the trouble of capturing Harold last year if CSS might know the existence of the machine since '10?

Unless… Pauling is the only one in the group that knows about it? Still… from what Gary said, CSS has a lot of resources but when they 'met', she looked to be acting alone. Risking her own life and all.

There's so many questions and John doesn't think Gary here knows the answers.

"When did she join CSS?" Harold politely enquires.

That's a good question. From his trip to Bishop, they know Root's general timeline and she only left that small town in 2001, after Gary joined CSS.

"I first met her in '05 I think. I didn't know she was part upper management until '06 but I'm not sure when she joined, could be before me for all I know."

No, it can't be prior to 2001 since she's still in Texas. John bets she joined in '05. That would make her 27 at that time, young…

Why was she promoted a year after joining while Gary spent 13 years in the same position? Telent? Skill? Or did she have some kind of a connection with Pauling?

"Who's the other guy in upper management?" Shaw asks as she takes out the blood bag and sets it up by the headboard next to the half empty IV bag.

"Can't really say much." Gary shrugs. "Never met the guy. All I know is that he's been in the firm since the beginning and Francine called him Milk."

"Never heard about that guy." John comments as he looks at Harold if he knows but his friend shakes his head.

"Yeah, not surprising. The guy doesn't do much anymore… and my guess he hasn't done anything since the 90s, but you can try asking around some old timer mobster if they know who he is." Gary explains as Shaw checks his pulse.

90s? Maybe Elias or someone he knows might have heard of this person.

"Speaking of mobsters." Harold said as he walks around to the other side of the bed and takes a seat. "You said you handle this region. Does that mean you know Elias?"

A look of recognition appears on Gary's face. "Yeah, he's basically the firm's only client in the city since '05… I think."

That explains how rapidly Elias went up to the top of the criminal underworld. With his intellect and the Collective's resources, it's no wonder disposing of a near century old system caused little chaos. Well… comparative little chaos. There were still a lot of bodies from that event.

However, one thing doesn't make sense… John asks. "How did Elias pay for the collective's? The man was underground at that for most of that time and had to do some extreme things just to get the money to go to war."

Gary doesn't look like he cares about that. "Dunno. He and Francine had some kind of agreement where we don't do any jobs for any of the five families or their allies, seeing that it's New York and the families practically ran it. We had to reject a shit ton of jobs, but that changed last year. When she said there's no reason to work with Elias anymore, and started accepting jobs from others again."

John frowns at the answer and what implies.

"What happened last year?" Shaw asks looking at the three of them, with her being the only one out of the loop.

Harolds has a slight frown as he answers. "That's when Elias took displaced the five families and killed Don Gianni along with people from the other family." Harold turns to Gary. "Why would Miss Pauling cut ties with Elias after he won? That doesn't make sense…"

"Beats me. What I know is that the firm has gotten a lot busier since then, with jobs from the Russians, Irish, HR, and the whole nine yards…" Gary has a smug satisfied look on him before "… Ouch bitch, what you do that for?"

Shaw just stares back unamusingly at Gary with her finger hovering above Gary's gut wound. "I sensed that you were going to be annoying." Shaw then turns to Harold. "Can't you see why?"

"I don't believe I understand, Miss Shaw." Harold quizzically said.

Shaw looks really unimpressed with Harold's answer. "That bitch backed an underdog. Now that the underdog is now the top dog, she ditched him."

John comes to a realization from that… "It's like spots, it's fun to root for the underdog."

There was a horrified look on Harold as he asked Gary. "She did it just for fun?"

Gary gives Harold a look that's hard to describe and wiggles his head. "Probably? That girl must have some nuts loose for how cheery she is for someone in this line of work. I've once seen her clothes bloody with someone else's blood and still have that smile on her face."

Well… that's an unsettling image.

"Yesterday." Harold trudges forwards with the questioning. "You said that the Collective changed protocol a few months ago. What does that mean? I assume it's protocols on how you communicate."

Shaw's head snaps at Harold and glares at the both of them. Guess she expected they told her about this little fact earlier… ops.

There's a thoughtful look on Gary as he answers. "Back in '10 Francine issued a directive for everyone to ditch our phones along with our laptops and get new ones from her. Then the new policy was to only use the company's electronic devices for work and nothing else. We've been changing our devices whenever Francine tells us to which happens randomly. It's such a shitty thing to happen because Francine would give me this long ass password to remember and if I forgot about it, I can't talk to anyone in the firm until the next change."

'10? That lines up with what Shaw told them…

"Was there a specific software in your devices that Miss Pauling told you to use for communications, or was there anything odd about those devices?" Harold asks a follow-up question.

"Yeah, there's a messaging and calling app to talk to the others on every phone I get." Gary scratches his jaw. "Now that you ask about it… The odd thing about those phones is that I can't use it like a normal phone. No one can call me nor can I call anyone else despite having a full bar on the phones, although the service range on the phones was shit and sometimes the call quality is shit. No idea what shitty carrier Francine used."

Sounds like the phones were changed in a way that will prevent any unwanted third party from listening in. This Pauling woman knows about the machine… this is proof. And by the looks of it Harold came to the same conclusion.

"That shitty phone you had on you was special? Where's the phone now?" Shaw asks.

Gary looks at Shaw with disdain. "You made me drop it in the warehouse."

"I didn't." Shaw retorts back.

Gary scoffs. "You smack my face, making me drop the phone!"

"You were fucking staring at nothing when there's a firefight going on." Shaw snaps back.

Just as Harold was about to ask another question, Gary cuts him off.

"I think I've answered enough of your questions." Gary points at a pissed off looking Shaw who's a hair away from pulling out her pistol again. "I won't tell you anything until she patches me up."

"You pretentious…" Shaw immediately retorts and looks like she's either going to rant at the man or straight up murder him.

However, Harold tries to calm the situation again. "I think your request is reasonable."

"What?" Shaw snaps at Harold. "I don't work for you. So, why should I listen to you?"

"If the tourniquet is not removed in a timely manner, it will cause unfavorable consequences for Mr. Cook's leg." Harold said reasonably.

Both of them have a stare off for a few moments before Shaw relents and rolls her eyes.

"Ugh… Fine." Shaw jabs Gary's wound again.

Gary groans. "Fuck you, bitch."

"Fuck you, asshole." Shaw glares at the injured man. "I'll patch that one bullet hole only. The other one is when he finishes giving us everything."

Gary glares back at Shaw. "Fine… you better not mess up, bitch."

"How about I cut one of your nerves?" Shaw spits back while she opens the medical bag again to prepare for the minor surgery.

"Although it sounds enjoyable, Miss Shaw, causing further damage to Mr. Cook would be counterproductive to our goals." Harold tries to deescalate the heated conversion from exploding.

"Yeah bitch, listen to your boss." Gary goats a ticked off scalpel welding sociopath.

Harold turn to Gary and basically reprimand the man for trying to commit suicide by doctor. "Mr. Cook, provoking your caregiver might not be conducive to your good health or lifespan."

Gary pauses and glances at Shaw, who looks like she really wants to stab the man if he says something that would piss her off.

Gary sighs like a petulant child and says morosely. "You gotta work on your bedside manners. I'm the patient here."

"You gonna stop being a dick?" Shaw retorts before preparing the stuff to close the holes in Gary.

Harold let out a small breath of relief. "Do you think you can run away from your former employers?"

That cause Gary to look at Harold like the man is dumb -which is a first for John, seeing that Harold is normally the smartest man in the room- before letting out a roaring laughter. This cause Harold to flinch back in awkwardness and glance back at John who just shrugs.

After a few seconds, the laughter died down. "What the fuck do you think?" Gary chuckles. "It would be a miracle if I live long enough to eat lunch… hell it would be a surprise if I live long enough for breakfast."

"Isn't it early to throw in the towel?" John quips. "What happened to focusing on saving your own life?"

"Yeah, well… I was being delusional and in denial." Gary snorts. "You don't know Francine. If she wants someone dead, they will be dead by the end of the day and… what time is it?"

John looks down at his watch. "Ten past 4 in the morning."

"Yeah, I'm soo dead…" Gary said causally as if he's resigned to his fate.

That's bullshit… the guy might be scum that John doesn't mind if he dies, but the machine seems to value his life and Harold believe all life matters. Also, it's his job to save people even if they're criminals.

"Honestly, you assholes should worry about your own lives." Gray sounding surprisingly sober. "You interfere with a hit and now you assholes know way too much about the firm. I'm sure Francine already figured out who you are and put a hit on you."

"Yeah, unlike you, I'm not the idiot with two bullet holes in them." Shaw rolls her eyes and confidently say. "Let they can try."

"Ditto." John joins in.

"You idiots have no idea what's coming." Gary grins as he shakes his head.

"Is there no other way to call off this hit on your life, Mr. Cook?" Harold inquires.

Gary lets out an ugly snort. "Unless you have a hell of a silver tongue in that mouth of yours to change Franny's mind. I don't think so."

As confident as he is in holding off anything, the collective sends their way. They need to resolve this situation from its origin and as much as he doesn't want this; they don't have much choice…

"We need to call Root." John turns to a surprise-looking at Harold.

There's a deep frown on Gary's face at the suggestion and Shaw just raise a brow at it.

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that suggestion, Mr. Reese. She's a wild card." Harold replies hesitantly.

John retorts. "I know that she's a wild card and as much as I want to shoot her…"

"Tch. Get in line." Shaw mutters.

He ignores the comment and continues. "… at least you know with certainty that Pauling listens to what Root says. You saw it before, Finch."

Conflict dances in Harold's eyes as he stays silent at the argument John was putting.

"Wild Card?" Gary barks. "More like she's fucking insane! You thought I think Francine has some screw loose? That woman is a walking insane asylum."

"Psychiatric hospitals." Shaw deadpans at the blonde man.

He scrunches his face at Shaw. "What?"

"We haven't called them insane asylums in the past forty years." Shaw clarifies in a way to piss off Gary.

Before both of them went into a pedantic argument with each other, Harold intervene. "You said Elias and Miss Pauling made an agreement with each other. Does that mean Elias knows Pauling personally?"

Gary nods. "Yeah, he sometimes contacts Francine directly rather than going through me for some things."

Oh… John knows where this is going. He would rather try that than Root. John knew he should have tried harder to help his friend with what happened to him a year ago, but either pride or stubbornness stopped Harold from opening up more.

"Thank you, Mr. Cook." Harold nods at the man before leaving the room.

John quickly followed Harold out.

"It's four in the morning, Finch." John spoke up. "You can't just stroll up to Rickers and talk to Elias now."

"I'm sure I can think of something when I'm on the way there." Harold says dismissively.

"You know I can't let you go out on your own Finch. Those people from the Collective can find you and kill you if you're alone out there." John waves his hand towards the door and stresses the risk Harold is taking.

Harold pauses to think for a second before responding. "It is a risk, but it's been more than an hour since everyone arrived here. If they can find me out there when I'm driving, they would have found us now, and there's no firefight going on right now."

"Finch, I know you might still be afraid of Root in some way, but the way Gary describes it, contacting Root might be the smartest choice we have here." John grabs Harold by the arm, stopping him part way towards the door.

"No, Mr. Reese, I am not afraid of Miss Groves." Harold said evenly, trying to project a façade of confidence. "But bringing her into this adds an unpredictable element into an already strenuous situation."

"Shit's already unpredictable, Harold." They both come to a stop by the front door. "And you don't even know if Elias still has Pauling's contact."

"We can't leave any stone unturned, Mr. Reese." Harold looks into John's eyes with determination.

There's no convincing him otherwise, is there?

John lets out a defeated sigh. "Don't get yourself killed out there, Finch." He lets a small smile spread. "I'll be out of a job."

Harold nods then turns towards the bedroom. "I'll be back in two hours, and do try to keep Mr. Cook alive, Mr. Reese."

John glances back towards the room. "Don't worry about him. There's enough ammo here for me to hold off an army long enough until the NYPD reaches here."

"It's not the collective I'm worried about." Harold says in an amused tone. "Try to prevent Miss Shaw from murdering our number, Mr. Reese."

A shit-eating grin spread across John's lips. "No promises."


A/N: Had to split this final chapter in half if I wanted to keep the schedule. The other half is around 40% completed and hopefully be done by next week.