Chapter 1

It is a calm, cool night in Washington, a light summer breeze rustling the leaves in the trees, a full moon bright and clear in the night sky and Red is on the phone.

"Enrique, are you sure?" Red asks, pacing in front of the cracked window, the sounds of the peaceful night life doing nothing to calm him.

"Yeah, Red, I'm sure. I completely botched the job man, I'm sorry. It was just a little thing to pay the rent until our gig but the cameras weren't turned off like they should have been and they got me, clear as day. My picture's all over the news, there's no way I can swing the heist without being recognized. I gotta leave town for a bit until things calm down, man. I'm sorry."

Red sighs, frustrated but not angry at his long-time grifter.

"That's all right, Enrique, it wasn't your fault. Do you need any help? Money, transportation?"

"Nah, I'm good, thanks Red. I've got a plane ride sorted out with a friend and I managed to swipe a few grand and a really nice watch before I had to get the hell outta there."

Red chuckles, amused, as always, with Enrique's enthusiasm for stealing.

"And, hey, Red, I don't wanna leave you hanging, you've done too much for me over the years. Call Gordon. I'm sure he can get you another grifter in no time."

"Yes, I'm sure he can, Enrique, but not one I trust as much as you."

"I'm sorry, Red. Call me for the next one, will ya?"

"Absolutely, my friend. Travel safely."

"Good luck."

Red hangs up, sighing deeply once again. He'll call Gordon in the morning to see if he can get another grifter this last minute. Red would do the job himself - it certainly wouldn't be his first bank robbery - but he is much too recognizable. He is number four on the FBI's Most Wanted list, after all. And this heist must be successful, his reputation is at stake. He needs someone unknown, inconspicuous, stealthy. And above all, talented. He hopes Gordon has someone because, by god, he needs the best grifter he can find.


"I know exactly who you need, Ray."

"Are you sure, Gordon? This is an important job."

"Absolutely. She's young, quick, and hell with a set of lock picks. Not to mention easy on the eyes."

Red hears Gordon chuckle over the line and rolls his eyes.

"You know that doesn't matter, Gordon."

"Yeah, I know Ray, I'm just saying. But honestly, I haven't seen a grifter like her in a long time. Give her a try, please. You won't regret it."

Red pinches the bridge of his nose. He isn't looking for young, he's looking for experienced. But, really, what does he have to lose at this point?

"All right, Gordon. Set up a meeting."

"Excellent. You'll love her Red, I promise! I'll let you known when and where."


Red steps out of the car, neatly parallel parked by Dembe at the curb between two large SUVs. Dembe locks the car and follows Red across the street, looking a little too smug about his parking job.

"Don't get too confident, Dembe. Remember who taught you how to parallel park." Red murmurs to him.

Dembe snorts and rolls his eyes, channeling his inner teenager, about the age he had been when Red had first taught him to drive. Red grins at him, remembering that time fondly.

They stride towards the back door of an office building, which is clean but fairly empty; to Red's eyes, obviously a front for something illegal. In this case, Gordon's grifting services.

Gordon had called back almost immediately with this address and instructions to meet here within the hour. Red was pleased with his punctuality. Gordon obviously understands what is in this for him if he does his job and supplies Red with a good grifter.

Red opens the door and bypasses both the bored-looking secretary and the elevator to head for the stairs, Dembe following close behind, cautious and observant as always. They always take the stairs when given a choice; in Red's experience, stairs are much more reliable than small metal boxes suspended by cables.

They start to climb.

"Raymond, what will you do if this grifter isn't to your liking?" Dembe inquires softly. "Will the heist continue?"

"I'm not sure yet, Dembe. Let's meet her first, shall we?"

Red opens the door to the fourth floor and heads to the sixth office on the right, as instructed. He knocks briskly on the door and waits, turning to look back at Dembe, who nods calmly. Red turns back around as the door beings to open, hoping for the best but prepared for the worst.

"Hey, Red, thanks for coming." Gordon says, shaking his hand eagerly.

"Of course, Gordon, thank you for arranging this on such short notice." Red says sincerely. If he has learned anything over the years, it is to keep your friends close until they are your enemies.

Gordon ushers Red and Dembe into the sparsely decorated office. Red moves in, assessing the format of the room, memorizing all available exits, driven by habit.

However, he only gets as far as the east wall of windows before he stops.

A young woman is leaning against the bookshelf in the far corner of the room, staring at him. She is young. Very young. Barely twenty, Red would guess. Her posture is nonchalant, careless, and extremely confident. She wears black skinny jeans and the edge of a dark blue top is visible from underneath her black leather jacket. A brighter blue beanie is fitted snugly over her dark hair which is hanging free around her face. Perched on her nose are large, black-rimmed glasses that Red can immediately tell she doesn't need. What a ridiculous fashion statement.

She is so young.

Red almost turns to leave right then. He doesn't care what Gordon says, he needs someone experienced, not a young girl who's managed to rob her local convenience store with a little bit of luck and the distracting of the night manager.

But then, as he observes her, her lips twitch up into a cocky smile and she winks at him.

Well, Gordon did get one thing right.

She is stunningly beautiful.

Her eyes, an unearthly shade of blue, seem to pierce him as she stares him down, grinning and untroubled.

She is far too young for him.

But Red thinks he may see what she has to say. Just to humor her, of course.

"Red, this is the grifter I was telling you about. Elizabeth Scott, a real talent." Gordon gestures unnecessarily towards the woman, who seems to decide it is time to step forward, pushing herself off the bookcase, sighing as she does so, as if it is a great bother to her.

She steps forward, lazily offering her hand.

"You can call me Liz," she says simply, peering at him from behind her huge glasses. How is it that they seem to make her eyes even bigger and bluer? He has a sudden irrational fear of falling into their depths.

"Liz, this is the potential client I was telling you about, Raymo-"

"Raymond Reddington," Red interjects smoothly, feeling the need to gain some ground. Gathering himself, he takes her hand and is mildly surprised by her strong grip as she shakes his hand curtly.

"You can call me R-"

"Red. Yeah, I know. Don't think I haven't heard of you, Mr. Reddington. And I think we should keep things formal for now, don't you? At least until we decide if we'll be working together." She smiles winningly at him and he has to blink, feeling a little as if he's looking into the sun.

"I'm sorry, until we decide?"

"Of course. I can always refuse to take the job, you know. I find the big heists always go more smoothly when all the participants are on equal footing, don't you Red?" She stretches out his nickname into something that sounds a little more mocking than friendly. And was that a threat he heard in that sweet suggestion of hers? The girl has nerve, he'll give her that.

"Why of course, Ms. Scott. But I'm afraid I can't tell you all the details of the job until you accept. I can't have you babbling to the authorities, can I? Standard procedure, you know." He smiles happily, hoping to intimidate her.

"Of course, of course," she murmurs, moving around him to inspect a potted plant sitting rather sadly on a corner table. "Well, what can you tell me, Mr. Reddington?" She asks politely.

"I'm going to rob a bank." He says simply.

There is a beat of silence in which she waits for him to continue. When he remains silent, she turns away from the uninteresting plant and raises her eyebrows at him.

"That's it?" She asks, drily, blinking lazily at him.

He shrugs, grinning at her, once again feeling confident.

"I see," she says thoughtfully, beginning to wander slowly around the room again.

"Don't trouble yourself with making a decision yet, Ms. Keen." he tells her, watching idly as she pulls herself up to sit on the window sill. "I don't know anything about you yet."

"That's true." She agrees calmly, inspecting her nails. He chuckles, amused by her lackadaisical attitude, and turns to remove his coat and place it neatly on the back of a chair. He thinks he might be here a while and he figures he might as well be comfortable.

"And you certainly don't know anything about me." He continues, sitting down in the chair and making a show of getting comfortable, straightening his vest and picking imaginary lint off his slacks. That routine always unnerves potential employees, it's infallible, it-

"Oh, I wouldn't say that."

Red frowns, looking up.

"Excuse m-"

"Obviously fake ID and driver's license, name Bill Kershaw. Interesting choice."

And there she is, sitting on the window sill, legs crossed daintily, thumbing through his wallet. Red's hand automatically goes to his pants pocket. Empty.

Well then.

She must have swiped it when she was walking around the room. For him not to have felt it and Dembe not to have seen it, well.

Perhaps he has underestimated this girl.

"Two credit cards, money," she continues, rattling off the contents of his wallet, "about one hundred dollars in cash - jeez, only a rich guy would carry that much cash - and, oh," she pauses, fishing something out of a back billfold, eyebrows raised, "an extra-large condom. How interesting." She murmurs the last part, craning her neck a little to glance coyly at his lap.

He smiles, amused and intrigued this beautiful girl. Perhaps he will give her a try. It couldn't hurt, could it?

"It's amazing how much you can find out about a man from the contents of his wallet, isn't it, Mr. Reddington?" She asks sweetly, tucking the condom back into his wallet and tossing it lightly to him.

Red catches it smoothly, returning it to his pocket.

"Very impressive, Ms. Scott," he rumbles, peering at her through lidded eyes, "I didn't even feel that brush pass. And trust me, I make a habit of being aware when a beautiful woman is that close to me."

Her lips quirk, amused with his flirting. "Brush passes are only one of my many talents, Mr. Reddington." She lilts, flirting back.

"Oh, I'm sure," he says, delighted with her response, making a point to obviously run his eyes over her seemingly endless legs.

She blushes lightly, looking down, and Red can't help but smile.

Gordon clears his throat and Red suddenly remembers he and Dembe have been present this whole time. How odd. How was completely immersed in his verbal sparring and flirting with this girl. No, woman, he supposes. It might be easier on his sanity if he tries to think of her as a woman. He glances back at her, smiling shyly at him now from the window sill. No. Girl.

Dembe shifts subtly on his feet by the door and Red knows it's time to wrap it up. They don't have any other meetings today but Dembe is surely hungry. Dembe is always hungry.

"Well, Ms. Scott-"

"Liz."

He raises his eyebrows at her.

"Well," she says, shrugging, "I'm certainly interested in this job. Are you not interested in me, Mr. Reddington?"

He smiles at her obvious innuendo. Despite her age, he is interested. Not romantically, of course. She is much too young for him. Of course. But she managed to steal his wallet in a relatively empty room and he didn't even notice. He thinks she may be able to pull off the heist, with enough practice and planning. And hell, at this point, what is he supposed to do? He desperately needs a grifter.

All right. He will give her a chance.

He nods at her. "All right, Lizzie." He chooses not to use her proffered nickname, simply to assert his dominance. But, strangely, she doesn't seem to mind.

She nods back, hopping off the window sill, pushing her glasses up her nose. "All right then, Red." She grins at him. "I gotta run."

"But what about the details of the job?"

"Hmm…" she taps her chin. "Tell you what, I'll call you."

And she pulls his phone out of her pocket and tosses it to him.

Oh, this is going to be a gas.