Fic: Selfie In Blue, Part VII
When Reese awoke, bleak daylight was creeping around the legs of the trousers hung at his window.
Instinctively he reached across the flat bed spread.
“Joss.”
He wanted her there; she should have been there. She was dead. Again.
“She’s gone.”
Badge was sitting on the chair, finishing off the shrimp fried rice, her long legs propped on the bed, toes wriggling in blue and gray argyle socks.
“She said to tell you she had to get going. Something about work and blah, blah, blah, you know. But she’ll be in touch later in the morning.”
He scrubbed his hands across his face to press the sleep from protesting eyes.
“And she said you should call somebody named Harold because he was trying to reach you.”
When he didn’t say anything, Badge tossed him the cell.
“You know, urgent like.”
He didn’t want to speak with Finch in front of the girl, but with her staring at him there didn’t seem to be any way to avoid it.
After washing his face, Reese made the call as he paced the narrow gap between the bed and the sink.
Finch was brusque, fueled by caffeine and carbohydrates, sputtering with new information.
“Mr. Reese, I was contacted early this morning in regard to Ms. Hofer. The issue has been joined and the matter is coming to a head in a very few hours I suspect.”
“O.K. Finch, let’s have it.”
“A mutual friend of ours has asked about Ms. Hofer’s welfare.”
“Mutual friend?”
“Yes. Carl Elias.”
Finch whispered when he spoke this name, as if saying the words in full-voice would somehow cast a spell summoning the man himself.
Reese didn’t need to be told the implications of the mob boss’s interest in their case.
“So he’s the brains behind this heist, is he? Makes sense.”
“Yes, I believe so.”
Finch sounded almost elated with this news, eager to elaborate on the scheme he saw unfolding.
“Elias has the manpower, weaponry, imagination, and avarice to make this operation plausible. What I did not realize was that he also has the international reach and computing power to bring his ingenious idea to fruition.”
Reese wasn’t interested in sky-high speculation at the moment.
But Finch was on a roll, his words flowing down in a torrent barely dammed by the need to take a new breath.
“If what I believe is true, then Elias has created a far-reaching operation, able to infiltrate the computer systems of credit card processing companies and banks on every continent.
“This is cybercrime on a vast scale, Mr. Reese. Elias has succeeded in manipulating the entire global financial system.”
Reese figured there was nothing he could do about Elias hacking the international banking system.
If Elias could run a Rube-Goldberg operation like this, hats off to him. It was up to other people, the Finches of the world, to come up with a way of stopping the mob boss and his drive for mastery of the universe.
The only thing Reese could control was what happened in his little corner of that universe. And at the moment, the girl Badge was at the center of it.
“So what does Elias want with Badge?”
Finch’s voice rose, sending a cold thrill racing across Reese’s shoulder blades with his next words.
“He wants to meet her, Mr. Reese!”
He looked over at the girl slouched in the chair, her hands clasped across her round belly.
“Well, that’s not happening, Finch. Not on my watch.”
She studied him with placid curiosity, her blue eyes tracking his movements across the room, radiating trust and even a weird sort of happiness.
As if she delighted to hear him speaking a language she only vaguely understood. As if it wasn’t her very life he was discussing.
He shook his head, hoping the gesture would wipe any frown from his brow.
Finch continued, conveying his convictions in a firmer voice now.
“I’m afraid I don’t see how we have any choice in the matter. Elias says he wants to see her today. He wants her to bring the money. And he wants you to accompany her...”
“I’m not going along with any scheme like…”
“And he says he will order her assassination tomorrow if we don’t comply by this evening.”
It was settled then. Reese bristled at being trapped like this. But he agreed with Finch: the only way out was forward. Straight into Elias’s lair.
In a few more sentences the men sketched out plans for the rest of the day: breakfast and possibly lunch, a change of clothes for the girl, waiting for Elias to designate a meeting point.
Reese had one last request.
“Don’t tell Carter about this. None of it. She’ll only try to interfere and get herself and us in more hot water.”
Finch made his voice sound small.
“Well, I don’t exactly see how I can lie to her, Mr. Reese.”
“Why not? You lied before, you can lie now.”
He put heat into these words, the warmth of his plea easing the dread gripping his throat.
“If she asks, make up a story. Give her another number. Send her on a wild goose chase in some NYPD files. Anything. Just keep her out of this.
“For me, Harold. Please.”
+++++++++
The rest of the day unrolled as planned.
Reese took Badge back to Tortoni’s Café where she said she wanted to shower and change clothes.
As he had feared, she was in fact eager to meet with the mastermind behind the money scheme.
Badge wanted to see Carl Elias face to face. She wanted to hand over the cash she had taken, make apologies for her missteps, and explain her charitable impulses.
She was sure Elias would understand.
From her bubbling voice and dancing eyes, Reese also could see she was moonstruck with what she imagined was the glamour of the meeting.
Badge knew it was rare that a foot soldier got an audience with the head of such a vast organization.
She told Reese she was excited for the opportunity. She said it was like going to meet a movie star or the president of the United States or Derek Jeter. If she was scared, she didn’t show it, announcing her desire to look her best for the appointment.
As she disappeared upstairs to the apartment she shared with her boyfriend above Tortoni’s, Badge thrust her backpack at Reese, declaring it was too heavy to lug up the steps.
Reese took a seat in the café to wait, placing the lumpy satchel between his feet under the little table.
Joss called for the second time that day and he updated her in vague terms, throwing her off the trail, he hoped.
He ordered a tall coffee and sipped it as slowly as he could, but by the time he had finished, the girl still hadn’t returned.
Taking pity on him, Mrs. Tortoni, the old crone behind the cash register, gave him a slice of olive oil cake with a serving of fresh fruit on the side.
The cake was light but earthy, a citrus icing sprinkled with shreds of lemon zest decorating the top. Reese felt decadent, even dishonest, savoring this moist dessert while he waited to carry an innocent girl to a possible appointment with death.
He took the empty coffee cup and studied its yellow exterior, which matched the warm golden color of the walls of the cafe.
On one side of the cup bold black cursive letters spelled out the name Tortoni’s with scrolls embellishing the Ts and the final S. Under the name was the address of the café and the phrase “Buon Appetito!” below it.
The idea prickled in his mind as he ran his fingers around the rim of the coffee cup.
With a napkin, he slowly wiped out the inside of the cup, pressing the paper into the crevice circling the bottom to absorb the last drops of liquid. When it was clean and dry, he placed the cup inside the backpack, on top of the wads of twenty dollar bills. He was careful to draw the zipper so that the cup was not crushed, but nestled against the stolen money.
This was the way out, Reese was sure of it.
If everything fell into place, if every signal was received, if every hint was heard, he could save Badge and her baby.
At the high cost of betrayal, but a rescue all the same.
Instinctively he reached across the flat bed spread.
“Joss.”
He wanted her there; she should have been there. She was dead. Again.
“She’s gone.”
Badge was sitting on the chair, finishing off the shrimp fried rice, her long legs propped on the bed, toes wriggling in blue and gray argyle socks.
“She said to tell you she had to get going. Something about work and blah, blah, blah, you know. But she’ll be in touch later in the morning.”
He scrubbed his hands across his face to press the sleep from protesting eyes.
“And she said you should call somebody named Harold because he was trying to reach you.”
When he didn’t say anything, Badge tossed him the cell.
“You know, urgent like.”
He didn’t want to speak with Finch in front of the girl, but with her staring at him there didn’t seem to be any way to avoid it.
After washing his face, Reese made the call as he paced the narrow gap between the bed and the sink.
Finch was brusque, fueled by caffeine and carbohydrates, sputtering with new information.
“Mr. Reese, I was contacted early this morning in regard to Ms. Hofer. The issue has been joined and the matter is coming to a head in a very few hours I suspect.”
“O.K. Finch, let’s have it.”
“A mutual friend of ours has asked about Ms. Hofer’s welfare.”
“Mutual friend?”
“Yes. Carl Elias.”
Finch whispered when he spoke this name, as if saying the words in full-voice would somehow cast a spell summoning the man himself.
Reese didn’t need to be told the implications of the mob boss’s interest in their case.
“So he’s the brains behind this heist, is he? Makes sense.”
“Yes, I believe so.”
Finch sounded almost elated with this news, eager to elaborate on the scheme he saw unfolding.
“Elias has the manpower, weaponry, imagination, and avarice to make this operation plausible. What I did not realize was that he also has the international reach and computing power to bring his ingenious idea to fruition.”
Reese wasn’t interested in sky-high speculation at the moment.
But Finch was on a roll, his words flowing down in a torrent barely dammed by the need to take a new breath.
“If what I believe is true, then Elias has created a far-reaching operation, able to infiltrate the computer systems of credit card processing companies and banks on every continent.
“This is cybercrime on a vast scale, Mr. Reese. Elias has succeeded in manipulating the entire global financial system.”
Reese figured there was nothing he could do about Elias hacking the international banking system.
If Elias could run a Rube-Goldberg operation like this, hats off to him. It was up to other people, the Finches of the world, to come up with a way of stopping the mob boss and his drive for mastery of the universe.
The only thing Reese could control was what happened in his little corner of that universe. And at the moment, the girl Badge was at the center of it.
“So what does Elias want with Badge?”
Finch’s voice rose, sending a cold thrill racing across Reese’s shoulder blades with his next words.
“He wants to meet her, Mr. Reese!”
He looked over at the girl slouched in the chair, her hands clasped across her round belly.
“Well, that’s not happening, Finch. Not on my watch.”
She studied him with placid curiosity, her blue eyes tracking his movements across the room, radiating trust and even a weird sort of happiness.
As if she delighted to hear him speaking a language she only vaguely understood. As if it wasn’t her very life he was discussing.
He shook his head, hoping the gesture would wipe any frown from his brow.
Finch continued, conveying his convictions in a firmer voice now.
“I’m afraid I don’t see how we have any choice in the matter. Elias says he wants to see her today. He wants her to bring the money. And he wants you to accompany her...”
“I’m not going along with any scheme like…”
“And he says he will order her assassination tomorrow if we don’t comply by this evening.”
It was settled then. Reese bristled at being trapped like this. But he agreed with Finch: the only way out was forward. Straight into Elias’s lair.
In a few more sentences the men sketched out plans for the rest of the day: breakfast and possibly lunch, a change of clothes for the girl, waiting for Elias to designate a meeting point.
Reese had one last request.
“Don’t tell Carter about this. None of it. She’ll only try to interfere and get herself and us in more hot water.”
Finch made his voice sound small.
“Well, I don’t exactly see how I can lie to her, Mr. Reese.”
“Why not? You lied before, you can lie now.”
He put heat into these words, the warmth of his plea easing the dread gripping his throat.
“If she asks, make up a story. Give her another number. Send her on a wild goose chase in some NYPD files. Anything. Just keep her out of this.
“For me, Harold. Please.”
+++++++++
The rest of the day unrolled as planned.
Reese took Badge back to Tortoni’s Café where she said she wanted to shower and change clothes.
As he had feared, she was in fact eager to meet with the mastermind behind the money scheme.
Badge wanted to see Carl Elias face to face. She wanted to hand over the cash she had taken, make apologies for her missteps, and explain her charitable impulses.
She was sure Elias would understand.
From her bubbling voice and dancing eyes, Reese also could see she was moonstruck with what she imagined was the glamour of the meeting.
Badge knew it was rare that a foot soldier got an audience with the head of such a vast organization.
She told Reese she was excited for the opportunity. She said it was like going to meet a movie star or the president of the United States or Derek Jeter. If she was scared, she didn’t show it, announcing her desire to look her best for the appointment.
As she disappeared upstairs to the apartment she shared with her boyfriend above Tortoni’s, Badge thrust her backpack at Reese, declaring it was too heavy to lug up the steps.
Reese took a seat in the café to wait, placing the lumpy satchel between his feet under the little table.
Joss called for the second time that day and he updated her in vague terms, throwing her off the trail, he hoped.
He ordered a tall coffee and sipped it as slowly as he could, but by the time he had finished, the girl still hadn’t returned.
Taking pity on him, Mrs. Tortoni, the old crone behind the cash register, gave him a slice of olive oil cake with a serving of fresh fruit on the side.
The cake was light but earthy, a citrus icing sprinkled with shreds of lemon zest decorating the top. Reese felt decadent, even dishonest, savoring this moist dessert while he waited to carry an innocent girl to a possible appointment with death.
He took the empty coffee cup and studied its yellow exterior, which matched the warm golden color of the walls of the cafe.
On one side of the cup bold black cursive letters spelled out the name Tortoni’s with scrolls embellishing the Ts and the final S. Under the name was the address of the café and the phrase “Buon Appetito!” below it.
The idea prickled in his mind as he ran his fingers around the rim of the coffee cup.
With a napkin, he slowly wiped out the inside of the cup, pressing the paper into the crevice circling the bottom to absorb the last drops of liquid. When it was clean and dry, he placed the cup inside the backpack, on top of the wads of twenty dollar bills. He was careful to draw the zipper so that the cup was not crushed, but nestled against the stolen money.
This was the way out, Reese was sure of it.
If everything fell into place, if every signal was received, if every hint was heard, he could save Badge and her baby.
At the high cost of betrayal, but a rescue all the same.