Through Finch's narration, everyone learned about his and Gen's whereabouts over the past few days.
While Reese was protecting Leon Tao, and while Jack and Jiejie were in Texas, Gen had also done a lot of things while holding Finch hostage.
Honestly, Ms. Root was truly a genius, a criminal prodigy with a mastery of computer technology.
Over two years ago, while conducting a scam, Gen stumbled upon Finch's existence and his remarkable abilities.
At the time, Finch had no helpers, no partners like Reese, and no FBI and NYPD support from Jack and others to cover his tracks.
He attempted to assist these "unrelated numbers" with extremely cautious yet clumsy methods. While most of his attempts failed, there were a few successful ones.
Simply put, as the mastermind behind a fraud ring, Gen found that every move he made was anticipated, leading to his ultimate failure.
Since all his plans were stored in his own mind, with no possibility of leaks, Gen was acutely aware that something was amiss.
This piqued her interest, and she spent nearly two years digging deeper. The results were simply delightful.
"I'd like Ms. Sam Groves to elaborate on this point," Jack said, looking at Gen, still bound in her straitjacket, but with an increasingly relaxed and cheerful expression.
"Is this difficult to understand?" Gen said, as if she had found a kindred spirit, with a certain sense of contentment. "I know the government has been trying for years to establish various secret programs to protect the helpless little lambs, or rather, to maintain their rule.
Like 'Prism,' 'Starwind,' 'Genesis,' and so on. I thought they would never succeed until I stumbled upon Project Polaris and the name Nathan Ingram in a document.
Later, I conducted further research and found his name and Harold's on the list of victims of a terrorist attack.
Oh, and Harold was still using the last name Warren at the time, but could you have been more explicit? Warren (wren) became Finch (finch)?"
She licked her lips and glanced at the glass of water on the table.
"Untie her. Ms. Groves isn't a professional agent. Her treatment of her was driven by her disregard for ordinary human life." Jack nodded at Hannah, who sat beside her.
He'd been genuinely worried about just handcuffing her, and there was also a tinge of revenge. The leg injury would have forced him to pretend to be a cripple for at least five or six days, which was incredibly annoying.
"Actually, I prefer to be called Gen." Gen, stripping off his restraints, didn't rush to grab the water glass on the table. Instead, he looked at someone with a sharp gaze. "I'm curious, how did you find out my true identity?"
Jack tossed the 20-year-old photo in front of her. "We found your friend Hannah. The day we left Bishop, her father and the town gave her a proper funeral."
The slightly cynical smile suddenly vanished from Gen's face. She reached for the photo from the table, gently stroking the sweetly smiling Hannah in it, her eyes sparkling.
"I owe you thanks anyway."
The sadness on Gen's face didn't last long. She sniffed, picked up the water glass on the table, and drank it all in one gulp. Although her voice was still a little hoarse, her previous faint smile had returned.
"So, it was this that led you to Hana?"
"I guess so," Jack shrugged, not directly responding. He would later privately question Finch about certain details.
Everyone knew what happened next. On a strange government contract she'd uncovered, valued at one dollar, Root found another signature: that of Denton Weeks, then Deputy Director of the CIA.
In a high-end restaurant, she publicly drugged Weeks's lover, sending her to the hospital and stealing her phone.
Root then took Finch to the villa where they'd been meeting and sent a message to Weeks.
Trapped, Weeks was hung from the rafters for the entire night and then force-fed a pint of sodium thiopental.
Of course, this wasn't enough to sway a veteran CIA agent, so Root resorted to a trick, pretending to leave to refuel, allowing Finch to rescue Weeks.
Root's delicate demeanor was deceptive. Upon her return to the villa, Weeks easily ambushed her, knocking her unconscious. He then seized Root's pistol and interrogated Finch about the "machine."
"Wait a moment." Jubal raised his hand to signal a question.
"If I remember correctly, you developed and completed the Machine, and your friend Nathan Ingram sold it to the government for one dollar.
If Weeks was involved in that transaction, why is he pressing you to reveal the Machine's secrets?"
Without waiting for Finch to respond, Gen scoffed. "Isn't the answer obvious? Finch entrusted the Machine to someone both incompetent and ambitious."
Yet everyone's eyes remained fixed on Finch, eager for his own answer.
"I did worry that the Machine wasn't in the right hands, and indeed it was. Even back when the Machine was still in its testing phase, I was warned that someone was attempting to remotely control it.
One of those individuals was Denton Weeks," Finch replied calmly.
"So you designed the 'machine' as a black box, unable to be modified remotely unless you have access to its servers, and the location of the servers themselves is highly confidential.
As long as the project isn't given a code name and disguised as something else, these servers can be hidden anywhere in the country, right?"
Seeing Finch nod slightly, Jubal breathed a sigh of relief, and the others were similar.
Only Jack continued to look at Finch with a half-smile, "Is that why you didn't send out the location signal until the very last moment? Ms. Gen wanted to use Weeks to get this secret out of her.
And you, simply went along with it, using Weeks to tell the secret to Ms. Gen, who was lying on the ground pretending to be unconscious. It was a wonderful battle of wits and courage."
The sound of Jack clapping his hands lightly echoed in the room, as if cheering, but also like a mockery.
(End of this chapter)