The man now known as 'John Reese' was a master of all the myriad skills required by his former profession of spy and assassin. Shadowing being merely one of them. Even though a few inches over six feet in height and wearing his typical black suit, white shirt, and no tie; he managed to always take a position where his target would never notice him.
At the moment he was drinking a cup of coffee while apparently paging through the New York Post at a small cafe. To his left he was watching the Professor and her bodyguard out of the corner of his eye.
Professor Summers was slightly over five and a half feet tall and very slim, with long dark hair. She wore a conservative dark gray blouse and skirt and low heels. Her bodyguard, Lehane, was slightly shorter and stockier in build, and had wavy shoulder length dark hair. From her posture Reese could tell she was a fighter and even at this distance he could see her head constantly scanning in casual moves. Checking the entire area for potential threats obviously. Lehane wore dark jeans, flat soled leather boots, a red silk turtleneck and a 3/4 length black leather jacket. To Reese's professional judgment she could be hiding anything up to and including a folding stock assault rifle under it.
Summers and Lehane chatted for a few more minutes then began walking towards the entrance to the subway. Reese finished his coffee and after waiting for a few seconds, began to trail them. He held back as far as he dared, mainly because Lehane was constantly scanning for people like him. Finally the pair descended towards the station and Reese moved in closer using a tourist couple as a mobile screen for his approach...
"What's wrong Faith? Something up?"
"Not really sure D, I think we're under surveillance. Something's tickling my brain wicked fierce," the bodyguard turned, but Reese had already sought cover behind a pillar and was in the process of force-pairing their phones.
"They seem to have some...unusual type of security on their phones. I can track them by their GPS and monitor their calls and texts through the cell towers, but not listen in or access them in any other way."
"What do you mean unusual?" Reese looked up and saw that the station was nearly deserted as they had just missed the most recent train. The only other persons on the platform besides himself and the two women, were a passed out bum and a pair of gangbangers talking and laughing.
"Well, it doesn't seem like there is any security...not even a password, but I just can't access it."
"I can get past those remotely. This is something else, something very odd," Finch sounded worried.
Reese nodded to himself. For Harold Finch to be stymied by any sort of computer security, was so rare to almost be considered impossible. He continued to lean against the pillar shielded from sight of the two women and heard a faint scuff behind him. Glancing at his watch crystal, he saw the reflections of four shadowy shapes moving down the stairs almost noiselessly.
"Finch, we have company."
"Oh?" Finch's characteristic interested upturned lilt came clearly though the earpiece.
The shapes were men in dark poorly fitting suits. One flashed a pistol at Reese and made waving away motions. Reese put a scared expression on his face and raised his hands in a surrendering sort of way, and the four men passed him by.
"These seem to be the problem for our number. Four shooters."
"Do you have it in hand, John?"
"Not yet," Reese stepped quietly out from the back side of the pillar and drew his pistol. Working the slide as quietly as possible, he chambered a round, and in a crouch slipped over the side and down on to the tracks.
"Harold, I don't suppose you could delay the next train coming through?"
"Working on it..."
Reese moved to a point directly parallel to the two women and waited.
"Miss Summers," one of the thugs uttered in heavily accented English, "You will be coming with us."
"Faith, this is Thursday right?"
"Ayup," the two women sounded surprisingly relaxed considering they had firearms pointed at them. Reese pulled a dental mirror from inside his jacket pocket and scanned the group. Four men with handguns at a professional distance away. Close enough to be accurate. Far enough to not be immediately engaged in hand to hand.
Summers tapped her jaw thoughtfully, "You guys are either a day late or four days early. Tuesday is the traditional kidnap-Dawn day."
Reese made a decision. Standing up he looked over at the confrontation and said in a calm voice, "Excuse me, have you seen my keys? I think I dropped them over here somewhere."
"What th'Christ?" Lehane looked startled and amused and all four guns were now pointing at Reese.
"Oh, am I interrupting something? I am so sorry. Could I get a hand out of here at least?"
"Who are you?" the leader of the thugs directed his question at Reese.
Lehane casually ambled over to where Reese was standing. John showed his concealed pistol to her, nodded slightly towards the thugs, and winked. Lehane smiled so hard dimples appeared.
"Sure man. Let me get you out of there."
"Faith! Remember, no seductions when there is a kidnap attempt!" Summers sounded exasperated at her bodyguard.
"You!" the thug leader yelled at Lehane, "Get away from him!"
"Yeah yeah D. I know th'drill..." bending down she whispered, "This is going t'be fast so get ready for it."
Reese nodded, slightly puzzled and stretched up his non-gun hand. Lehane grabbed on and in one smooth motion, and with amazing speed and strength, hauled Reese up to the platform as he rose he fired, aiming for shoulders and upper torsos. Soon there were four bodies writhing on the platform.
"That was sweet," Lehane was grinning, "Now who the hell are you?"
Reese pulled out a badge, "Detective Sills, NYPD."
"No you're not. I know cops and you ain't one. D, you cool?" she shot a glance over her shoulder at her principal.
"Any reason the Tajikistan Secret Service would be interested in you?"
"Tajikistan?" Lehane looked surprised.
"He got it off the accent same as I did Faith. You're a Fed aren't you?"
"Yes," Reese lied glibly, "State Department."
"Backstopping your ID now Mister Reese," whispered Harold's voice in his ear.
Lehane looked at him curiously, "He may be a Fed, but he ain't State Department."
"How do you know Faith?"
"A little voice whispered it t'me D."
"John, she must have real time data feed."
"You found me out," Reese said, "I'd rather not say what department I'm with. I just clean up messes. We really should leave before the police arrive...What I did here isn't exactly legal."
He scooped up the pistols and wallets and whispered under his breath, "Call Lionel or Carter and get them over here. No ID means no claims of diplomatic immunity until much later..."
"... When the bodies are already in the morgue. Good thinking. I'll let the Detectives know."
At that moment the three were heading into the tunnel away from the platform.
Reese looked at his new companions, "Doctor Summers, Miss Lehane; my name is John."