Euphoria. The melancholy oblivion that comes with lack of sleep, deep tissue massage, or the perfect amount of alcohol. The heaviness of the body paired with the slow heartbeat and absolute inhabitance of the current moment without the outside influence of prior thought or judgment. The moment of leaving oneself, albeit momentarily, in order to completely exist. Without thought of past or future. To be, for a moment, at perfect peace.
Xxx
He said that the next target on the Blacklist resided in Paris. A dark shadow in the city of light, he was an arms dealer responsible for supplying the finest weaponry to the deeply ambitions and morally challenged. Of course Red needed Liz on the case. Needed her to fly to Paris that very night to commence the methodical chase. Of course Cooper immediately agreed. Really, what choice did he have? At this point, a year into working their way down the list, it was clear that it was the FBI who assisted Red, not the inverse relationship that had originally been in play. With Tom no longer in the picture, Liz had little tying her to the States so her protests were minimal. Early Tuesday morning she learned the identity of the individual and by that afternoon she found herself prepped for a trip across the Atlantic and boarding a sleek private jet outside of Washington, DC.
Xxx
The wheels of the plane thundered down the uneven concrete of Paris-Orly runway number five at half past midnight. Outside the windows blue, yellow, and green runway markers illuminated the fog as the plane decelerated along the pavement. The unlit hulks of dark aircraft waiting on the first flights of morning intermittently blocked the light as the jet rolled past.
From her seat Liz could just make out the edges of the primary airport structure before the plane made a sharp left and taxied to an unmarked hanger. Shivering involuntarily she pulled her fleece sweater more tightly around her body as the lights flickered on in the cabin. In the seat behind her Liz could hear Red moving and the sound of fabric swishing against leather. She imagined him shrugging into his jacket and double tapping his hat with the web of his hand, as he was oft to do. Standing, she was surprised to see Red, fully ready to disembark, looking at her, a tumbler of scotch in hand.
"And so we begin", he said, tipping his glass to her with a barely perceptible quirk of the lips, "to Paris".
Xxx
Gazing out the window of the lushly sedate sedan barreling through the night, Red cleared his throat and began to speak.
"I am reminded of Ludwig Bemelmans and his petulant heroine. How, as much as he controlled her story, how she still must have come to surprise him on occasion with her strength, her resolve. Crossing dangerous precipices, saving the less moral from the feral dogs, and the usual whatnot. A resourceful girl, that Madeline. Always navigating herself out of one jam or another without the benefit of blood relations close at hand. Just Ludwig, jumping in to save her every time."
Turning towards him and placing her right hand on the middle seat to brace herself, Lizzie replied.
"You are aware, right, that the child about which you are speaking, is not actually real?"
Without turning to her, Red continued to look out the window. Slow drops of rain were beginning to bead the glass and run helter skelter to the weather stripping below.
"You will find, Lizzie, as you grow in experience, that all of our paths are but a work of fiction in one way or another. The only question is who is doing the writing and who is following direction. How sometimes the only one who can save the virgin in the end is the one who wrote her into peril in the first place."
"Should I see this as cautionary, Red?"
Turning, his eyes landed on Liz's briefly and transmitted an unknown dark emotion. Then just as quickly they danced, his countenance brightening and the corner of his lips lifted in a slight smile.
"What you should see is Paris…the lights…the life…you see right there…I was once a guest at a fantastic dinner of savants in that very flat we just passed. Savants I tell you. Paris will be good for you Lizzie. Get out and see the world a bit…".
Xxx
The sedan sidled up to the curb in front of a stately row house shortly before two in the morning. Dark green ivy climbed the rockwork at the front of the home curling away from the multiple paned windows. The warm glow of the ground lights did little to lessen the foreboding affect of the structure.
Buttoning his coat with one hand and swinging his long legs to the pavement, Djembe exited the driver's door, making his way towards the rear of the car.
Red reached his body towards Liz and stretched his right arm to the metal door release on her side. Looking down at Red's arm brushing against her midsection, Liz shot Red a wary look.
"A brief stop on the way to solving a little quandary standing between us and our Parisian foe. The man who inhabits this fine home I have known for many years. An upright character despite the company he keeps. I am thinking a night spent in his audience will provide the last nugget of information we need to get the proverbial the ball rolling."
With that Red raised his hand up into Liz's view and moved his gloved fingers such that his right thumb and forefinger depicted the amount of intelligence he hoped to gain.
"Plus he has a most excellent walk in wine cellar", Red continued. "Really, a true feat of modern engineering. I'm amazed he was able to have it constructed in such a historic dwelling. Can you imagine the permitting nightmare? I can just see the palms greased on that one…".
Chuckling silently to himself, Red fully opened the vehicle door and handed Liz out to a waiting Djembe.
Walking swiftly through the misting rain they climbed the wet stone steps to the front door. Knocking resonantly Red turned to face Liz and tapped a gloved finger under her chin, "Smile darling, this is the beginning of your adventure. You know what they say…the books you read and the people you meet, right."
With that the door swung open and the three travellers were ushered quickly inside the vestibule by a wiry woman in a stiff black and white maid's uniform. Red, engaging in a murmured exchange with the woman, turned to the others and began walking down the sparsely lit hall. Upon reaching the end he paused momentarily, seemingly to gather himself, and then strode headlong and shoulders back into what appeared to be a well-appointed library.
"Roy", arms spread wide Red approached the bearded man standing on the far end of the room. "So good to see you my friend. Too long, too long. How's the travel treating you? Heard you spent some time exploring the African wilds. Bring back a tusk or two? Some of that peculiar black tea perhaps?" Red rubbed his hands together briskly.
Continuing forward across the tiled floor, Red embraced the man heartily before taking a step back and holding him at arms length.
"Your warm hospitality for the night is deeply appreciated. Apparently the lion trainers performing in the round so thoroughly trashed my usual suite at the Relais that management is having to perform some magic of their own getting it back in order."
Dropping his arms to the sides of his black wool topcoat he stepped aside and gestured slightly for Liz to come forward.
"Allow me to introduce my Elizabeth. She is visiting the city of light for her first time. A Parisian virgin in the flesh."
Roy's lips parted in a sly grin, "another conquest Raymond, I am impressed, whatever became of the fair haired maiden of last?"
"Oh, Roy, a story for another time I am sure. Certainly your flattery has served to move mountains in your stead. Alas, Elizabeth wants nothing of my old world charm. Immune she is to my wicked ways. No, no, sweet Elizabeth is here in official capacity. An associate…brought in to help in matters of trade if you will. The woman who cracks the door open with a crowbar so to speak."
With that Roy closed the distance to where Liz stood and leaned in to kiss each cheek. Liz felt the coarse hair of his beard and smelled the deep timbers of tobacco and wood smoke emanating from his lambs wool cardigan. Forcing her lips into a smile, Liz's gaze move momentarily from the heavy mantle clock ticking behind their host's shoulder to Red. Saw his eyes harden for split second as Roy held Liz close. And then, as if she had imagined it, the look was gone and his eyes retook their familiar calculating glint.
"Shall we sit Roy? Catch Elizabeth up on our old shenanigans? Come join me by the fire and let's talk about old friends…one friend in particular has been evading me as of late and I wondered if he had happened by?"
Accepting a generous pour of wine, Red raised his glass to his host, "to a friend in the storm" he said audibly, and so quietly she had to strain to hear, "to Paris in the springtime."
Xxx