A/N: Well, this took much longer than I wanted. If this is readable at all, thank thefirstfewchapters for being my awesome beta, and thank you for sticking with me. As always I own nothing.
Red's first thought as he slowly regained consciousness after that cheap shot to the head was that once again, he had lost a favored hat. It was disgraceful really, the disregard common criminals showed for the possessions of others. That thought, and the irony of it, would have made Lizzie's eyes roll emphatically had he spoken it aloud. He could imagine her sarcastic reply perfectly, complete with that slanted smile he adored; Yes, Red, she would say, it seems there is, in fact, no honor among thieves.
He was gaining ground against the darkness behind his eyes; he risked opening one eye first, just to see if he was being observed. He was alone, and appeared to be in an office judging by the industrial furnishings and the worn carpet under his feet. He was bound to a chair, on the visitor's side of the desk, with a view of a nondescript office park outside the window to his right. It was still dark, so he hadn't been unconscious for long. He crossed his legs at the knee, relaxing his posture as much as he was able to and waited to see what would happen next.
Lizzie was on her phone with Aram, who was tracking Reddington via the tiny GPS chip that was secreted way in Red's favorite watch. Dembe had given Aram the codes for the device as they had tried to follow the car that had taken Red. They lost the trail of the vehicle and so Aram had been enlisted to help. Dembe drove swiftly to a suburban office park of no consequence, following Aram's directions. It was well past time for the 9-to-5 crowd to be gone, only a scattering of cars remained in the parking lot. Aram's signal had gotten them to the general vicinity, but pinning down which of the several identical buildings Red might be in would be a bit harder.
Lizzie switched to her Bluetooth headset as she and Dembe exited the car and moved towards the first building, she needed both hands on her weapon to cover Dembe while they searched for Red. They moved to the first entrance, Lizzie keyed in the code that Aram fed her over the phone. The lock on the glass doors deactivated and they began to painstakingly sweep each floor.
Red was just beginning to wish for some reading material to relieve the tedium when the door opened behind him. An unremarkable looking man in a rumpled, inexpensive suit entered and took a seat behind the desk and smiled at Red.
His bland appearance would be deliberate. Red was fairly certain this man was The Trader, responsible for financing the powerful and corrupt alliance called the Cabal. If Red had learned anything in his years of playing on the wrong side of the fence, it was that if you always follow the money. Any group, even one as broad and powerful as the Cabal, needs a way to move funds without rousing suspicion. In the grand scheme, he was little more than a tool, but he was a tool with information.
"My name is Matthias Warner. I understand you've been looking for me, Reddington."
"Ah, good, you are the Trader. I wasn't exactly sure when I fed your name to the FBI, but this ties in so neatly with my list. You were number forty, by the way. I love being correct, even about these little things. You do know that this was all wholly unnecessary." He lifted his hands the small amount the zip ties would allow him. "I can think of several out of the way spots where we could have met, and we would all have been spared this nonsense. I have never cared for these mafia-style shenanigans. I'm a civilized man, after all." The Trader's jovial smile slipped a notch or two, and his fingers tightened around the pen he held.
"Civilized, Reddington? I have two dead associates to account for as a result of this evening. Volkov was a valuable asset."
"Volkov was a thug. You know it and I know it. He was a useful thug, but sooner or later, you would have replaced him. I did you a favor. At no charge, I might add."
"Well, then we will consider that I did you one as well, when I flipped your little canary in the Attorney General's office. So, we are even."
"That canary sings no more, of which I am sure you are also aware. So, what is your interest in the Attorney General's office, exactly? Are you recruiting?"
Matthias leaned back in his chair and fiddled with the buttons on his suit jacket. Red wanted to roll his eyes at the blatant tell, the man needed a better tailor and a better poker face, not necessarily in that order. He was getting restless now, waiting to see what the purpose of this little meet and greet was going to be.
"You know, Raymond, can I call you Raymond?" Matthias didn't pause for Red's answer, "The people I work for have let you go about your business for many years; as long as you kept in your place, stayed in the shadows, they were content. But you decided to come out and try to play poker with us, try to call our bluff so to speak and so we have nasty scenes like the one with Alan Fitch." He looked up at Red, who concentrated on keeping a blank face, not by even a flicker did he betray his feelings about the "scene" with Alan Fitch. On the contrary, his expression was as smooth as top cream as he lifted one eyebrow.
"You fed me to Berlin, made me the target of that madman's mission. Hoping I suppose, that he would what? Finish me? Distract me? You should all know me better than that by now."
"We hoped for the best."
Red huffed a laugh, almost against his will.
"Looks like we're both disappointed."
Lizzie and Dembe moved silently through the office building, checking every office and closet for the missing criminal mastermind. She cursed Anslo Garrick again in her thoughts for removing the DARPA chip from Red when he invaded the Post Office. On the third floor, Lizzie saw light shining through the bottom of a door down the hallway. She glanced at Dembe, who nodded; he had seen it as well. As they approached, they could hear voices. She recognized Red's gravelly baritone and another quieter, higher-pitched voice engaged in a discussion.
The man they called the Trader smiled.
"What is your involvement with Elizabeth Keen?"
Red struggled to keep the tension from showing in his posture. The last thing he wanted was the Cabal getting interested in Lizzie. Things they got interested in tended to disappear in an all too permanent fashion.
"What do you care about Agent Keen? She knows nothing of you."
"The very fact that you sit here is evidence to the contrary, Raymond. She may not know everything, but she is certainly capable of learning. So,what is she to you? You never keep a useless weapon in your arsenal, even if she is pretty."
"Pretty weapons are the sort I find most useful. Because everyone is so busy just thinking they're pretty, no one sees the danger until it's too late." And, as Red had reason to know, woe betide anyone who underestimated Lizzie Keen.
Dembe and Lizzie held their mutual breath outside the door. They could only hear one other person speaking with Red, but that didn't mean that there were only two people inside. Rather than charging into an unknown situation, which could get both them and Red killed, they needed to draw the occupants of that office out into the hallway. Lizzie pulled back the slide on her service weapon. Hopefully, this would work.
Outside the door, a gunshot rang out along with the sound of glass shattering. Matthias jumped from his chair, and slid a revolver from a drawer in the desk. He checked the chambers, clicked the cyllinder into place and moved to the door. The single shot was not followed by any further noise, he glanced suspiciously at Red.
"This would be your cavalry, I assume?" Red's blank stare was his only response. He was willing to bet Lizzie had found him and in true Lizzie fashion, she would take the most direct route to securing his release and her target. The Trader was a smart man, but all of Red's chips would stay on Lizzie.
Matthias opened the door quietly, taking a moment beforehand to switch off the lights. Red only saw his darker shadow leave the doorway, he hoped Lizzie had been wise enough to bring Dembe with her. He strained his ears in the dark, listening for any indication of what might be happening. A few muffled thumps were all he could pick up, and then silence. He twisted his wrists in their bindings, hoping he could stretch the plastic enough to slip them off, but to no avail. He froze as he heard footsteps in the hallway and a shadow slid inside the room.
"Are you injured, Red?" He heaved a sigh of relief as Lizzie knelt by the chair to cut his hands free, only poking him once or twice with the pocketknife in the process.
"Nothing a few aspirin and a large glass of scotch won't fix. Where's Dembe?" He stood, chafing his wrists.
"He's taken the guy downstairs. We got the drop on him down the hallway and knocked him cold. Is he the one we've been looking for?"
"Yes, he is. Come on, Lizzie, let's get out of here."
Dembe had secured the Trader's hands and feet and had tossed him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. He handed Red the revolver that Matthias had been carrying and smiled as Red tucked it under his vest at the small of his back.
"Should we expect resistance, Raymond?" Dembe's quiet seemed to echo in the empty hallway.
"Probably not. It's not their style to put up a fight over an asset. Especially one they think will be easy to replace. The trick is going to be keeping him alive long enough to get anything useful. Once they know we have him, they will try to eliminate the threat, and probably us as well."
The trio exited the building quickly and quietly, dumping their unwieldy cargo in the trunk of the sedan. In the back seat, Lizzie and Red both tried to dispel the tension of the situation. It worked to a point, but the adrenaline left them both jittery. Lizzie abruptly unbuckled her seat belt and leaned into the front seat, when she sat back she tossed something into Red's lap. It took him a moment in the darkness to identify it.
"Lizzie, you saved my hat." His laughter echoed in the shadows, and Lizzie smiled.