For Bear Part Three
Searching
Five hours and twelve of Harold’s safe-houses later, John hadn’t found any indication Harold had been to any of them recently.
It was no surprise that he found new tenants in some who couldn’t tell him where the former occupant had moved to or even who they were. The residence they were in was vacant when they had moved in.
This last one was an older ten story apartment complex made of bright red brick, huge windows; sculpted gilded lions were etched into the molding surrounding them and had an awning covered entrance of opaque-green glass doors.
John didn’t want to go there; it was where they had spent their last night together; he hadn’t been back since.
John parked the bike in front of the building, briefly looking up at the block of windows where Harold Falcone’s apartment was. The doorman quickly hid his surprise with friendly recognition when John approached him.
He greeted John with a pleasant, “How are you this afternoon Mr. Ryan?” At the same time he moved in front of the doors discreetly blocking John’s entrance into the building.
John wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries and just answered with a curt, “I was planning on seeing Mr. Falcone. Is he in?”
For the second time the doorman had to hide his surprise.
“Mr. Falcone doesn’t reside here any longer. I believe he is in London now overseeing his company’s office there. You might try contacting him through the New York office.”
John knew these doormen were paid handsomely not to divulge anything about the building’s tenant’s personal lives, so he had no doubt the man had received a bonus of some kind to relay that information to him.
So this was another dead end. There may be a London office but highly doubtful Falcone was actually there overseeing it. It was just another message to John, don’t look for me.
After John got back on the bike, he couldn’t help but take one last look at those windows, remembering looking out of them, the view of the river at night, Harold softly asking him to come back to bed.
He snatched his helmet up, jammed it on his head, started the bike and sped away from the building, away from reliving the rest of that night.
John rode the bike aimlessly through the city, no destination in mind, futilely trying to figure out a way to find a man who couldn’t be found when he didn’t want to be found.
He hadn’t been keeping track of time before he looked at his watch while waiting for the traffic light to change. It had been hours since he’d called to check on Bear. Once traffic started moving at the light’s changing, John pulled the bike into the first empty space he could find.
John pulled off the helmet and then the cell phone from his jacket pocket. He called Leon, relieved and sad too when Tau told him Bear was still the same. He still hadn't eaten but Leon had been able to get the dog to drink a small amount of water.
“When you coming back man? I’m good here, I am, but …hold on...”
“You just keep doing what you’re doing Leon. I’ll get there when I can.” John ended the call.
It was when John picked up the helmet to put it back on that he realized where he was at. He looked at the shiny new chain link fence surrounding the Library and the under renovation sign wired to it. ‘Its fate is no longer in limbo apparently’.
He didn't know why he had subconsciously driven himself here. And it hurt like hell to see figuratively another bridge Harold had burned between them. John had come here once a week after their breakup to find the building truly abandoned, but this?
Shaw had showed up that day too demanding to know what the hell was going on.
‘Shaw! She’s still working for him.’ John pulled on his helmet and headed in the direction of the safe house Harold had set up for her.
The door was locked, the blinds drawn when he got there. John picked the lock, going on in, hoping she was and wasn't inside, the prospect of getting shot before he could get three feet inside wasn't enough to stop him. Desperate men do desperate things.
John did get more than three feet inside, had just began to think Shaw wasn't there before he heard glass shattering as it hit the floor and felt something slammed into the back of his head.
He didn't lose consciousness, but was incapacitated enough that Shaw took him down and had his arm twisted behind him, her knee in his back, before he could do anything about it.
“Hello Shaw”, John managed to get out, even though he was face down in the carpet.
“John, what the hell are you doing here?" She scrambled up and off him, grabbing her gun off a side table at the same time.
He got up off the floor slowly, partly because he was still reeling from the getting smacked on head and partly because Shaw probably would shoot him if he moved any faster.
“What the hell did you hit me with Shaw?”
“My dinner, now I asked you, why the hell are you here?”
“Harold, I need to find Harold. You’re working with him now; I know you've seen him, help me find him…please?”
“Now there’s something I’d never thought I’d hear, John Reese asking me please. What’s going on John?”
John told her about Bear, everything, expecting Shaw to scoff at the whole thing.
She looked John up and down, her expression softened just a bit, for her anyway, before she answered.
“John, I can’t. I like this job and I want to keep it. I’m sorry about Bear, I like that dog, but I just can’t tell you anything.”
“Thanks a hell of a lot. I’ll think I’ll leave now”, John pushed past her angrily.
“John, wait. Harold still watches over you. You should know that. ”
“Then he damn well knows what’s going on. I’m going home now. Goodbye, Shaw.” John walked out the door slamming it closed behind him.
John was back at the loft’s building and had pulled into his space behind it before his anger had even cooled. He felt like throwing his helmet against the wall he was so angry. Instead he tucked it under his arm as he headed for the back entrance to the apartment building.
John took the stairs up to the loft forgoing the elevator, he needed time to think and calm down. It was wrong to get angry, to think Harold didn't care. John should be directing the anger at himself. He had driven Harold away, had hurt the man so badly he wouldn't come near John again, even for Bear’s sake.
John’s last thought before opening the door was that if Shaw would have shot him, he deserved it. And never in a million years did he expect the brown blur that flew at him when he opened it.
“Bear, Bear get down. Bear, aif leggen.” When he finally got the dog to calm down enough he looked over at a laughing Leon. “What the hell happened? The medicine, did it start working?”
“Maybe, but I think it had more to do with Harold showing up a couple hours ago, I tried to tell you but you hung up on me.”
John looked hopefully around the room, “Where is he?”
“He left, half hour ago maybe. He promised to come back, left a box for you over there on the bed.”
~*~
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
For Bear
Chapter Five