Elizabeth heart was pounding so loudly she was surprised the scores of agents surrounding her couldn't hear it. Then again maybe they could. It would certainly help explain they'd way they been looking at her since she'd been picked up this morning. She could practically hear the cogs turning in their brains. Who was she? Why her? Why now? What was Reddington up to? She won't mind having the answers to some of those questions herself.
They led her into the concrete holding facility, where she could feel even more eyes boring into her. The stares of the agents were surprisingly easy to ignore, once she felt his eyes upon her. Raymond Reddington. She paused a moment at the top of the stairs to observe the reason she'd been greeted by helicopters and a team of FBI agents the second she'd stepped out of her house this morning. He was smaller than she remembered.
Raymond Reddington, the "concierge of crime", wouldn't appear very threatening to a casual observer. The man restrained to the metal appeared thoroughly average. With his immaculately pressed vest, collared shirt, and slacks, he could be a professor, a corporate CEO, or perhaps a stockbroker. Bystanders might wonder what this man had done to warrant a private cell of metal and bulletproof glass, in addition to the dozens of heavily armed guards stationed nearby. The short answer would be, a lot.
Elizabeth descended the staircase, locking eyes with Reddington, and keeping her face carefully blank. Director Cooper had briefed her on the information he was supposedly selling, and she was determined not to blow this opportunity by exposing weakness. Holding Reddington's gaze was more difficult than she'd anticipated. The loud beeping of the cage being hauled away faded in her ears as she examined every nuance of expression on his face.
The barest hint of a smile twitched at the corner of his lips as she deliberately strode forward and sat down across from him. His blue eyes drank her in as though they were the only two human beings in the room. It was as though his shackles and the guards, and the whole of the FBI were beneath his notice and he only saw her. Elizabeth resisted the tug of that all too familiar magnetism. She would not be taken in by him.
"Agent Keen, what a pleasure." Anger bubbled up inside her, a fierce, bitter resentment that had simmered on low for twenty years. How dare he summon her like this? How dare he speak to her? She tapped down on her fury. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction.
"Well…I'm here." Whatever his game was, she wasn't playing.
"You got rid of your highlights," Reddington paused to chuckle half-heartedly while Elizabeth took in the full implication of his comment. He had been watching her, for at least the past six months, and he had wanted her to know that.
"You look much less Baltimore," he opened his mouth and closed it again, as though he was struggling with want to say next, "Do you get back home much?" This exchange was rapidly becoming too personal. If he kept up this line of questioning it would be a matter minutes before the sharp minds of the FBI deduced the truth she'd been hiding since she applied to the Bureau.
"Tell me about Zumani." If he wanted to help bring a terrorist to justice, that was fine by her, but she would not let this criminal mess with her head. She was a professional. She could handle this.
"I haven't been home in years." If she hadn't known she was dealing with one of the most skilled liars on the face of the Earth, she might have bought the tired and regretful undercurrent in his voice. If he thought she was going to break down sobbing about how much she'd missed over his decades-long absence, he had another think coming.
"Why involve me? I'm nobody. It's my first day. Nothing special about me." He smile grew broader as she completed her speech for the benefit of their many observers. He had definitely heard her message about their…connection not being common knowledge. She had no idea whether or not he'd keep quiet. She'd spent her adult life studying ever piece of information remotely connected to Raymond Reddington and she was no closer to understanding him then she'd been at six.
"Oh, I think you're very special. I'm going to make you famous, Lizzie." One thing Elizabeth did know about Reddington was that he never made a move without thinking it through five steps in advance. He used 'Agent Keen' at the start of their interview, so why the change to 'Lizzie'? Most likely it was a response to her distancing tactic. Was the use of her childhood nickname a means to draw her closer to him, or was it a threat to expose her?
"Within the hour Ranko Zumani is going to abduct the daughter of US General Daniel Reicher." Like flicking a switch the man who'd asked her about her visits home was gone, replaced with the hardened international criminal Elizabeth knew Raymond Reddington to be.
"And I'm supposed to believe you?" Reddington began to laugh as though she'd made a joke.
"No, of course not!" His laugher grew heartier and it was all Elizabeth could do not to stand up, walk over to his chair, and punch him in the nose. She breathed in through her nose, and exhaled slowly, reminding herself that her colleagues, her boss, and her boss' boss were all watching her at this moment.
"I'm a criminal!" Reddington concluded with that smug grin, "But consider Agent Keen, what motive would I have for lying? Why would I send you on a wild goose chase, after I have willing placed myself in your custody? In any case can you afford not to act on the information I've just given you?" He was right. Damn him.
"Well, if that's all…" Elizabeth stood and turned to leave. As she reached the bottom of the stairs Reddington spoke again.
"Good luck…Agent Keen." Elizabeth hesitated for only a moment before ascending the steps. She would not look back.
