The Pit
Chapter 1
Every day, she wakes up at 6:00 AM. Feeds the dog, puts on her gym clothes (gray sweatpants and an oversized T shirt), her running shoes, and go out for a 30 minute jog. She never repeats the same route. Her personality makes it difficult, since she tends to like routine, which brings a false sense of security. It's easier to turn the brain on automatic mode and let the behavior unfold. It also makes it much easier to get lost into thoughts. That's something she definitely avoids.
One way or another, she always finishes by a around the corner café. They make a delicious latte there, and she asks her breakfast to go. Back in her apartment, she takes a shower, gets ready and eats inside the car. On the way to work, she turns the radio on to listen to the news. Every now and then she hears something work related. Not directly related of course. That's a con of working in an off-the-records department. Not that she cares about the glory anyway.
At night, she lies down on her bed, exhausted and lets sleep overcome her. But not before checking the door locks thrice; her gun beside her, twice; her backup gun hidden in the cabinet, once.
.
From somewhere afar, a man watches, fascinated. Takes notes down on a clipboard. Writes down schedule, personality traits. Gives ratings. Physical fitness: 9 out of 10. Willfulness: 8 out of 10. Self-esteem: 6 out of 10. Cunning: 9 out of 10. Intellect: 9 out of 10. Overall Appeal: 9 out of 10.
Compares her grades to the other's.
"And this is Morrison, the most passionate art collector I've ever met." Red presents Lizzie to a short sized man with a sharp nose, who happened to be strabic and missed her hand by inches when she extended it to him. "Went to London College of Arts, isn't that true? Came from a rich family. When one of the teachers told him he couldn't paint for his life and would never be acknowledged in the fine arts world he bribed the hell out of his way and destroyed his career. Ever since he has dedicated his life to the delicate matters of price fixing, market manipulation, bribery, forgery, theft, and money laundering in the art market. A true enthusiast at heart." Red's throatily laughter echoed in the room. "Morrison, this is Elizabeth Keen"
"I'm here for the van Gogh." The man smiled sheepishly at her, finally shaking her hand. "Mr. Reddington said I'd have competition from you. Is that true?"
"Oh- oh, no." She stuttered startled. "Changed my mind. Totally not worth it for an imitation."
She didn't miss Reddington's little smirk.
"Oh, you have good eyes. If you'll dismiss me, I'll take a look around the room."
"Why did you call me here, Red?" She whispered to him when the other man was gone.
"I have a new name for you" he told her while nodding approvingly at a group of woman that passed by them. Lizzie crossed her arms at him in annoyance.
"Cirillo Ambrosi, most known as Signore Acerbi. Ever heard of him?"
"Yes, Signore and Signora Acerbi, they are the most wanted weapon dealers by the Italian police. Have customers all around the world, from ISIS to South America drug cartels. Their nickname 'Acerbi' comes from the ruthless way they do business, meaning 'heartless' in italian."
"Not anymore. Mrs. Ambrosi has passed away. A brain tumor, from what I've heard. You see, she was the rock that sustained their whole little empire. She commanded everything, her word was final. The dominatrix. Are you familiar with BDSM?"
He looked at her through his eyelashes, his eyes travelling from her chin to the curve of her neck and then more boldly to her exposed skin at the top of her breasts.
She eyed him evenly, and sustained his look when their eyes met again. She was used to playing these kind of games with him by now.
"Yes, I take that they had this kind of relationship going on? What does this have to do with anything?"
"Well, Ada Ambrosi was the domineering counterpart of the couple. But you see, their relationship far exceeded the healthy bar. BDSM can be a really lively experience, if done right. Believe me, I've tried it a number of times-"
"Red. Cut to the point" she stopped him with a raised hand.
"Cirillo was completely dependent on her. She twisted him around her little finger. After her death, he's become unpredictable, prone to erratic behavior."
"He had a mental breakdown."
"Yes, and now he has called off a number of trades. Cut ties with lifelong business partners. Sold shipments to the highest bidder. Completely unfit to run his affairs."
"You want him gone because he is bad for your business."
"Yes, but that's not all of it. My sources have informed me a number of disappearances have been linked to him. All of them women, from their early twenties to late thirties."
"He's got into slave trade?"
"That's what I thought at first, too. But the M.O. is all wrong. Dembe will meet you downstairs and provide you with the files on the missing women. You'll see what I mean. Now, if you excuse me, there are some exquisite pieces of fine art that requires my examination." He quirked his eyebrows playfully at her while making his way towards the group of women.
The next day, at the post Office
"Sarah Bennett, 35, Afro-American. A police lieutenant from Memphis, Tennessee. Married, 2 children. Was decorated after solving a series of murders linked to a serial killer. Went missing on March, 23rst, while investigating a crime near a train station." Liz recited while pointing at the photo of the woman at the screen. She had spent the whole night studying these women and knew every single detail of their lives.
"Nadia Egorova, 32, Caucasian, single." Liz continued, changing slides. "An engineer and astronaut in-training for the Russian space program, went home to visit her family on a weekend and never came back. The local police found her car not far away from her parents house, her purse with ID, money and credit card still inside. Supposed date of missing is February 27th. "
"Katia Willians, Caucasian, 27, single. Australian pilot, was diagnosed with anxiety disorder last year and said unfit to continue working, has taken leave ever since. Went missing when staying at her boyfriend's summer house. At first he was suspected guilty, but at the date of her disappearance he had to go back to work and has multiple witnesses that confirms his alibi. A delivery boy could also confirm that Katia was alone there that day, which is March 12th."
"You say all these kidnappings are linked?" Ressler asked, a little skeptical.
"I'm getting there. Which it brings us to Rita Lopez, a 39 year old argentinian geologist. Before she went on an expedition to Iceland she confided to her sister she was afraid she was being followed around, stalked. She secretly hired a bodyguard that accompanied her passing as a fellow geologist. Someone else followed her there as well. Once they were at the campsite, he tried to knock her down only to be shot down by a sniper round. She turned to Reddington for help and they found out a series of bank deposits that in the end linked him to Cirillo Ambrosi, also known as Signore Acerbi."
"Why Reddington and not the police?" Copper inquired.
"It happens that Reddington has a few clients into commodities speculation and Rita and her mining company are under his paycheck. But that's beside the case." She switched to another slide with Cirillo's photo and bio."But that's not everything. Reddington managed to get info that in the short amount of time of 1 month Ambrosi has been to Russia, Australia, Argentina, and guess where else?"
"Memphis, Tennessee." Ressler answered with a grimace.
"All with passports under different names. Which means he may have been watching his victims closely. These kidnappings, the modus operandi is that of a serial killer, but it doesn't fit with Ambrosi's psychological and behavioral analysis. He's going bankrupt, it makes sense if he was getting into human trafficking, but it also doesn't apply. In most cases women are 'recruited', lured by false propositions, they try first to infiltrate their lives to gain their trust. None of these women fits the standard for slave trade victims, and they seem all have been carefully chosen by the kidnapper, like it was something personal."
"So, basically, a serial killer." Samar said.
"At the moment, I'd say that's the best logical conclusion, even though my gut tells that is not the case. Except for a small percentage, most serial killers work alone. Paying someone else to follow and abduct Rita doesn't fit. This guy confuses me." She shook her head scrutinizing Mr. Acerbi's files, trying to get inside his head.
Elizabeth drunk her black coffee while sitting cross legged at the floor of her apartment. All the pictures and files from the case where scattered around, with her notes attached here and there.
She stretched her arms up and heard her shoulder crack. Wincing, she got up and went to refill her cup.
From the corner of her eye she saw the door to her apartment open. In a quick reaction time she went for her gun, but before she had time to turn around she was hit by a heavy object at the back of her head.
She falls to the ground with her vision blurry, trying desperately to recover and stand up. Before her conscience slips away she hears a male voice say
"I might have to lower cunning to a 6."