The sun was shining above the National Mall and this afternoon of May was expected to be beaming. Kids too young to be in school were laughing and playing, under the watchful gaze of their parents. The vast paths going along the lawn were flooded with walkers, joggers and, to the great pleasure of passers-by, a chocolate brown Labrador retriever chasing one of the many squirrels living in the park. The little rodent perched on a bench, jumped on a low branch and ended up on a giant oak, away from the dog's barks. The latter, refusing to despair, sat at the foot of the tree and waited, his tongue lolling.

"Winston !", a voice shouted from afar, "Winson, come back here !"

Winston recognized his master's voice but refrained from moving. He was not going to let that ugly little ball of fur win : it was bound to come down one of these days and he had nothing better to do than waiting for that day to come.

"Winston !"

The voice was becoming more pressing. It belonged to a thirty-year-old young man, slightly out of breath. His gaze fixed in turns upon the oak sheltering Winston's prey, upon said rascal, and upon the bench's occupant, a young woman with long brown hair.

"That dog has ants in his pants !", he laughed, "Put a squirrel or a mouse under his nose, and you can be sure he's going to try and get it !"

Vanessa looked up and gave him a faint smile. On an ordinary day, she would have followed closely the adventures of Winston and his friend the squirrel. She probably would have gotten up from the bench to pet the dog between the ears and exchange small talk with his master. But that Friday afternoon of May so very sunny did not fit the definition of a normal day and Vanessa was too upset to talk to someone. Mark, because that was the name of the young man, saw that it was preferable not to insist. He pulled Winston's leash and, after a few attempts, the dog finally agreed to move. Before turning at the corner of the next alley, Mark let his gaze drift towards the young woman he had only known for a moment. In spite of the distance, he could feel the tension surrounding her as a winter morning mist and, for a split second, right before she disappeared forever, he could have sworn she was looking back at him, her eyes begging him on her behalf to come back to her.

The action had lasted no more than two minutes and Vanessa wished it had lasted longer. She felt so alone sitting on that bench and she would not have minded some company. However, the instructions she had received over the phone the day before were clear : she had to come alone and make sure to stay so. A brief look at her watch informed her it was 2:59 pm. In less than a minute, she would know. The knot in her stomach worsened and she felt nauseous, though she had not eaten a thing since her lunch with Linda the day before.

"Vanessa Hardgrave ?"

She jumped. A thin silhouette wearing a cobalt-blue suit had sneaked next to her and pronounced her name in a whisper.

"Y… yes, it's me", she managed to stammer.

The courier gave her a big brown envelope and left as he had come, without a sound, without a word, without her having the time to ask him any question. Vanessa unsealed the envelope and dragged a picture from it. Two dark eyes inlayed in a swollen face were staring at her. On the other side were written a name, an address downtown and a time. She shook the envelope and a small flask, filled with a colourless liquid, fell in the palm of her hand. She put everything into her purse and stood up. She felt feverish. She had been waiting for that moment for four months now. The fear of failing was tormenting her but she was so close. She could not go back now and, truth be told, she did not want to. Her life was about to change radically and as and when the minutes went by since her meeting with the messenger, her fear was turning into excitement. If Mark had seen her again at that moment, he may not have recognized the frail and scared-looking young woman she was a few instants before. Leaving her fears wilt on the patent wood bench, she headed for the park's exit.

At 3:05 p.m., on that Friday afternoon of May so very sunny that was not an ordinary day, Vanessa Hardgrave left the National Mall for the last time. Five hours later, if everything went as planned, Vanessa Hardgrave would be known of every inhabitant of Washington. Most importantly, Vanessa Hardgrave would be known of Raymond Reddington.