A person could stay in a five star hotel and still not get decent sleep under these conditions. As it was, Liz was rattled from Red's offer to stay with him, but on top of that, there was the faucet dripping. There was the scratch of that asinine blanket between the sheet and the comforter that seemed to serve no purpose except to look pilled and dingy and remind you that you aren't at home. And why were they always mauve? She didn't dare turn on Netflix for fear that it would give her some hint as to what Tom was doing… or vice versa. If he'd watched any shows it would make her feel homesick for not watching them with him. If he hadn't watched anything it begged the question "What is he doing instead?" and she wasn't ready to swim toward that maelstrom of paranoia.
The fluorescent lights were oppressive but, then, so was the darkness. If she wasn't going to sleep, she decided to at least keep her eyes closed, not letting the neon numbers of the clock radio sear themselves onto her retinas. Yet behind her eyelids, there they were – a ghost of 3:30am appearing, floating… disappearing.
Drifting off into an unsatisfying sleep, she dreamt the unsettling dreams that always seemed to replay in times like these. Crumbling teeth. Freefalling. Searching for keys. She remembered the elective she'd taken on dream interpretation when finishing her psychology undergrad. The teeth were about a lack of stability, fear of change. The free fall was about insecurity, anxiety. The searching was about something missing in your life. It would have been less frustrating if she hadn't known exactly what it each one was really about anyway.
Finally at 5:30am she felt justified in waking up for the day. The shower was impossible to temperature regulate, but the towels were soft and floral scented. It was pleasant but it wasn't home. The office was going to have to be home for now.
As she was swiping her badge, waiting for the now-welcoming cement of the post office, her phone rang. Her ringtone of the chorus to Beck's "Loser" was starting to give her anxiety purely on a Pavlovian basis.
"Ressler, I'm literally 10 feet away from you," she said as the doors opened, speaking to the back of his blonde, perfectly styled head.
"You'd better hope you are because Cooper needs you to report to him ASAP."
"What? Why?"
"Don't play stupid, Keen. And change my goddamn ringtone," he said with that schoolboy sneer that let her know he had one up on her. It was rare to see these days since they were becoming close, but it was the reason for the ringtone and he knew it.
She craned her neck to look into the glass partition in Cooper's door. Knowing that Ressler wasn't going to be of any help given his current demeanor, she straightened her jacket.
"How do I look?" she asked.
"You look like you slept for two hours in a traincar next to a drifter."
"Residence Inn… not far off," she said. She softened a bit at his chuckle. She looked at her watch – fifteen minutes late. Stupid traffic. That had to be what this was about.
Striding with as much rehearsed confidence as she could muster, she rapped the window in a staccato beat and swung the door open. Cooper acknowledged her with only his eyebrow and before she could greet him, she was greeted herself by a velvety voice.
"Lizzie, how nice to see you."
The ground swelled under her. She couldn't conceal her surprise, which did her some favors. Cooper didn't know how long she had already been in touch with Red before this moment and she didn't need any reason for him to think so. She felt her mouth hanging open and closed it, mentally trying to regain her footing. She couldn't speak, she only stared at him. His hat was hanging tilted off his knee, crossed over the other; he was relaxed. His smile, that shit eating grin, made her want to run and hide. That naked feeling again.
"Agent Keen, Reddington came in this morning to offer his services to us. Again. After refusing to contact us for three weeks," Cooper started, obviously speaking to both of them.
"Harold, as I was telling you I need Agent Keen's help with a job I am being tasked with in Europe-…" Red began.
Cooper interrupted, "First I expect you to explain to me where the hell you've been for the past three weeks. I am not authorizing Keen to do anything until-".
"You two will not talk about me as though I am not in the room," Liz said flatly. "Why don't you tell me what's going on. Are you seriously just letting him come back to work? Why don't we start there?"
"Agent Keen, as far as I'm concerned we are in no different position than we were in before. During the incursion it was clear that someone on our team was involved in the operation and it was our lack of diligence that resulted in us bringing him here. Despite there being a leak on Reddington's end, it seems as though the bureau bears most of the blame. So, as long as there are legitimate criminals being offered up, our hands are tied, as far as I'm concerned."
"And how does that change him being number four on the most wanted list for the better part of a month? How did he even get in?"
"Walked in just like he did before. With the same leverage as before. I don't like it but we can't take the chance on allowing an international incident to occur by not working with him. You'll find the situation sounds familiar," he said.
"Now who's being spoken about as if they aren't in the room?" Red said. Liz shot him a look that Tom used to refer to as "The Widowmaker".
Red smiled up at her, smug and penetrating. He was telling her with his eyes that she should go along with what was being proposed, but Liz was not ready to grant him that favor. Not yet. Not when it meant traveling with him and getting herself trapped deeper into his web. Until his value dropped where the department was concerned, Liz was a lamb for slaughter; the incursion had only served to gain him credibility. The bureau now seemed to owe him a favor.
"Don't you need to get Fowler's OK on this?" Liz asked, looking at Cooper.
Red interrupted with a swiftness that seemed to drop the temperature in the room. He was no longer willing to rib good-naturedly, this was now a business transaction.
"Agent Cooper, I'm afraid there's no time. My contact is prepared to make a drop worth about twenty five million dollars and thousands of American lives in only a few hours and we'll be dealing with a headwind." His voice dropped significantly into what Liz recognized as his more persuasive register. Why was he so desperate all of a sudden? She knew the transatlantic headwind went the other way – he was desperate if he was assuming that Cooper would overlook it.
"You don't seriously expect me to go over the head of the director of the Justice Department and put an agent on your plane. How do I explain that once you're over the Atlantic?"
"You don't," Red said, leaning closer. "As far as Diane is concerned, I am still missing and Agent Keen is still on maternity leave. I cannot impress upon you the importance of getting this shipment intercepted Agent Cooper. It's the reason I returned and I can assure you that it was with a great deal of trepidation about my own safety as you can imagine. It cannot wait on whatever red tape Diane uses to save face." Liz felt a static sensation emanating from Red – it wasn't a job, he was in personal danger. He was going to need her help.
"You can fit me with a chip," Liz said, surprised to hear the words come out of her own mouth. "Red needs a new chip anyway if he's going to be dealing with the agency, fit me with one too. If I'm that integral to completing this mission, I'm willing to do what it takes sir."
"Agent Keen?" Cooper looked shocked.
"If this is as time-sensitive as he says we need to move quickly and frankly he hasn't been wrong yet. We can't afford the gamble if the stakes are American lives. He wasn't wrong when we brought him to the black site and a group of terrorists came in here with guns. We didn't listen and we all know what happened as a result. If it's a matter of my security I am happy being outfitted with a chip and we can proceed. I trust the bureau to monitor this closely as usual – I feel that it's the best move."
Red's shoulders seemed to relax imperceptibly as she spoke. Agent Cooper took off his glasses and sighed heavily, finally resting his eyes on Liz.
"Keen, I expect you to be contacting the bureau frequently with updates. I realize this is time sensitive, but you are going to need to call me once you get there to brief me on the situation. If I don't hear from you in exactly 12 hours I will send in an extraction crew for you. And only for you. Red, if this goes south you are completely on your own. I trust you're savvy enough to know you have a good deal and not to compromise it."
"Cooper I'd thank you if you weren't the one getting the better end of this deal. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do. For you. On a voluntary basis," Red said, his voice regaining its normal timbre. "Agent Keen let's get our tracking devices – we'll get you provisions when we arrive at our destination."
Liz almost didn't wait the three necessary seconds to clear Cooper's door before interrogating Red herself, but she never got the chance to start. Ressler had been waiting for them outside the door like a hall monitor who noticed someone spending too long in the bathroom.
"Keen, Reddington, where do you think you're going?" Ressler asked.
"All these questions… Agent Ressler, calm down. The vein in your forehead is telling me that your blood pressure will lead you to an early grave if you don't start trusting me," Red said, jovially. Liz wondered exactly how many times he could change his tone and approach within a five minute span when it suited his needs.
"Ressler, I'll call you within the next 12 hours. I'm getting a chip, I'll let you know the tracking information," she said. He looked stricken, just in time for the elevator to ding its arrival.
The doors closed with a thud and Liz immediately cornered Red, her finger digging accusatorially into his chest.
"You answer me. Now."
"What's the question?" he said, looking down at her finger as if it were as inconsequential as a stray thread and just as intrusive. He was calm. Collected. She could tell because his heart was beating slowly yet steadily under her fingertip.
"If you play stupid with me, this is going to be a long fucking trip," she said through her teeth.
"Is the cursing necessary?" he asked, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head like a dog hearing a high pitch.
"Quite. Where am I going, Red?"
"Let's just say if you intend to keep using that language you'll be right at home. How do you feel about Jameson whiskey?"