"I uh… I suppose now is as good a time as any to tell you that you're going to be a grandpa in a few months."

Red pulled away to get a better look at Lizzie, his face frozen in shock, his mind running a million miles ahead. How the hell could he have been so stupid? He didn't plan for this. He had no plan for this. Why the hell didn't he have a plan for this? Ok. We need a plan for this. We need a lot of plans. Plans for our plans and contingency plans.

As Red began to try and set out a basic framework, his mind slowly caught up to what was happening around him and saw that Lizzie was crying, tears sliding down her cheeks slowly as she waited for him to say something.

"Oh Lizzie. Sweetheart." He whispered brokenly, gathering her back into his arms.

She sobbed into his neck, wrapping her arms around him fiercely.

"I know, Dad. I know the timing could not be worse and I can't bear to think of…of who the father is and the circumstances of…that." Lizzie sniffled, pulling away to look at him. "But Dad, I can't not have this baby. I –" Lizzie blew out a shaky breath. "I want this baby. And I need…I need you to be my dad and tell me everything is going to be okay, tell me that you're happy for me, that you're excited to be a grandpa. Can you do that? For me?"

Red looked at his daughter, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear as he sighed. "I'm sorry Sweetheart. I can't."

Lizzie choked on a sob, unfolding her legs to stand up and escape but Red wrapped his hand around her wrist and tugged her back down.

"Do not misunderstand me, Lizzie. It will take me a little time to wrap my head around the idea – especially, as you said, the timing is far from ideal and there is a lot that needs to be done. But Lizzie," Red gently took her chin in his hand and guided her to look at him, "I promise you, once the shock wears off I will be ecstatic about the idea of being a grandpa and will probably stock pile on toys for every stage of development up to and including those for a 12-year-old child before this baby is even born." Lizzie smiled tearily, letting out a huff of a laugh and Red chuckled along with her before growing serious once more. "But Sweetheart, I cannot tell you that everything will be alright. I can tell you, I can promise you, that I will do everything that I can to make it so."

Taking a large gulp of air and letting it out slowly, Lizzie nodded. "Time to plan then?"

Red smiled sadly. "Time to plan."

/\/\/\/\/\

Red lounged in the overlarge chair, needles sticking out of his face as the acupuncturist did their work, the soft sounds of a water fountain relaxing him further.

"The box in Istanbul." Dembe's voice startled him slightly. The man was stealthy. He hated when Dembe put said stealth to use with him. It was cheating.

"Hmm?" Red hummed, trying to act unaffected.

"It's been cleared out. This was left behind." Red opened one eye and sighed, taking the proffered envelope.

"I was just starting to feel the endorphins vibrating in my spleen." He muttered, opening the envelope to reveal a thick cardstock note written in an elegant hand. Windsor Lounge. 8pm. – M.

Pursing his lips, Red motioned to the acupuncturist to start taking the needles out. He apparently had work to do.

/\/\/\/\

Red quickly spotted Madeline at the bar, nursing what looked to be a bourbon. Walking up to her, he stops a couple feet away, folding his hands in front of him.

"The key. How did you get it?" He questioned her.

Madeline smiled, looking over at him coyly. "Macau. Last winter."

Red tossed his fedora onto the bar and sighed, sitting in the seat next to her.

"I've always hated Macau."

When the bar tender came over to ask what he'd be having, Red shook his head with a murmured "No thank you."

Looking to Madeline, Red rested an arm against the bar. "The documents in the box are worth over $10 million."

"You stood me up in Florence." A harshness that looked unnatural on such a beautiful face appeared in one blink and was gone in the next, being replaced with that same coy look from earlier. "I had to get your attention somehow. I have a proposition."

Red pursed his lips. "In that case, perhaps we should move to your room."

"I'll take the check." Madeline signaled the bartender without taking her eyes off of Red.

/\/\/\/\

Red and Lizzie stood in the library of his latest safe house, both grimacing as they stared at a painting of a young woman sitting at a piano.

"She's breathtakingly unattractive, but she's worth over $40 million– the only Vermeer in private hands."

"That's considered a masterpiece?" Lizzie shook her head in disbelief. Just because it was made by an old dead guy, it didn't make something art.

"Last night, I got up for a scoop of orange sherbet, and she caught my eye. I just stood here in the dark squinting at her." Red leaned forward and mimicked his pose from the night before. "Poor thing ruined my appetite. Even after I went back to bed, all I could hear was the hideous music she must be playing. Didn't sleep a wink."

"Why did you buy it?"

"Oh, my God, no." Red laughed. "She's not mine. She belongs to some hedge-fund manager who lives here."

"You're staying in the guy's house and you don't even know him?"

"The owner's been on vacation ever since the SEC started its investigation. I've never met the man, but his housekeeper is an old friend. Please." Red gestured towards the chair opposite his own in clear invitation. "Do you have any idea how much the US government has spent on signals intelligence in the past year?"

"No." Lizzie murmured, confused by the sudden subject change.

"Your country has become a nation of eavesdroppers– frequency domains, triangulation, satellites, crypto-whatever. You've forgotten that what matters most is human intelligence– alliances, relationships, seduction. Madeline Pratt is a master at…"

"Madeline Pratt? Madeline Pratt—"

"—is a thief and a woman of…" Red's eyes grew distant and a small smirk stained his face. "…singular talents."

"And now you want something of hers and you expect the FBI to help you get it." Lizzie asked, choosing to ignore the clear implication of her dad's words and facial expressions.

"I've begun beefing up your security. I'm having a state of the art alarm system installed in your apartment as we speak and once this case is over, I would like you to meet your security team."

Lizzie rolled her eyes. She'd been prepared for this, they'd talked about it. But as her father always did, he had steamrolled along without consulting her.

"Madeline Pratt. How do we find her?" It was time to focus on the case. Everything else could wait.

"Finding her is easy. Catching her is difficult. Luckily, she's asked me to help her plan a heist."

"To steal what? …"

/\/\/\/\

"—The Effigy Of Atargatis. The Effigy was thought to be lost, disappeared from the British Museum in 1983." The older gentleman slowly descended the rolling ladder in his library, having retrieved the book he was looking for. "Two months ago, it pops up at an estate sale in Henderson, Kentucky. The feds raided the auction and paraded it back to the Syrians" The man, wearing a robe and pajamas, his grey hair mussed, flipped through the pages of the old tome. "Ah, here it is– the Effigy."

"Novak, I have friends who are looking for this funny little statue, and they're not the least bit interested in antiquities. What is the real story?"

Novak smiled softly at Red. "The Kungur Six. It's said that when the Cold War was ending, its owner hid a list inside the effigy, a list of Soviet spies."

"Why is that relevant today?" Lizzie spoke up, no longer happy with being a silent observer to the conversation.

Novak startled and looked over at her as if he'd forgotten she was there. "The Kungur Six are still active and are said to be responsible for some of the most damaging intelligence breaches in the past 30 years. Find the effigy, and you find them. Finding them would be the Holy Grail of US counterintelligence."

/\/\/\/\

"Excuse me." Cooper said, affronted at the sight of Red in his office as he and Meera walked in.

Red straightened from where he'd been looking at several pictures in frames, pointing to one of them. "That's great. Harold, look at you!" He greeted jovially.

"Sit down." Cooper grumped.

"No, no, no. I'm fine, thank you." Red walked out from behind Cooper's desk, tapping his fedora against his knee. "I was just looking at the pictures of Charlene and the kids. How old are they now? The kids, not Charlene."

"Diane Fowler. Where is she?" Cooper blustered on, ignoring Red's attempt at small talk.

"I have no idea. And frankly, I'm flummoxed as to why you would even care."

"You expect me to believe that you walk in here after she vanishes and there's no connection?"

"Has Diane gone missing?" Red questioned, appearing clueless to this new development. "Perhaps you should ask Agent Malik. She works for the woman, doesn't she?" Red glanced over at Meera mildly.

Meera's eyes hardened as she looked at Red. "I've had no contact."

"Well, there you go." Red smiled at Cooper.

"You made it clear. You thought we had a mole. And you wouldn't set foot inside this facility until that mole was captured or dead."

Red looked around the room, his lips downturned in dislike. "Who decided on this paneling?"

"You told us you wouldn't come in until the mole had been caught." Cooper's voice rose along side his frustration.

Red shook his head. "I said nothing of the kind."

"You said our house wasn't clean. Is it?" Meera questioned.

Red looked over at her, pausing for a moment. "I suppose you'll have to ask Diane Fowler when you find her."

"When we find out what's happened to her– and we will find out– if you had anything to do with it, you're gonna spend the rest of your life in a box. Understood?" Cooper stated solemnly, stepping towards Red in an effort to intimidate him.

"You smell nice. Something new?" Red looked up at Cooper who stood almost a head taller than him and smiled.

"Did you hear me?" Cooper barked.

Red took a step back. "Madeline Pratt."

"What about her?"

/\/\/\/\

Red stood beneath the large screens mounted to the wall in the war room which depicted a beautiful blond woman with patrician features mingling with senators and doing charity work. "This is the Madeline Pratt you all know and love– politically active, influential, a good citizen. What you don't know is the Madeline Pratt that I love. $6 million in diamonds stolen from a DeBeers outpost in the Congo. Security fibers used in printing the Czech koruna, taken from a mint in Prague and used to produce counterfeit bank notes. The Madeline Pratt you know fosters relationships with incredibly powerful people. The ones you don't exploits those relationships in ways that impact national security."

Lizzie looked sharply at her dad at the word 'love.' She knew he'd had lady friends but was he in love with this woman? If so, why was he now hunting her down as a blacklister?

"Well, we can't just arrest her. We have no evidence." Cooper stated.

"What you do have is an opportunity, which brings us back to the Effigy of Atargatis. Madeline feels her profile is too high right now to steal it herself, so she's asked for my help."

"Where is the Effigy?" Meera questioned as she leaned against a desk.

"Secure wing in the Syrian embassy for now. But it will likely be repatriated at any moment, which means Maddie is rushed and vulnerable. She's trying to make a grab that would normally take months to plan."

Cooper walked forward to take a look at the evidence boards. "Do the Syrians know what's inside the effigy?"

"If they did, it would be in Damascus by now." Meera muttered.

"I can only assume, Harold, that Madeline has a Russian patron, since it's the Russians who want to protect the identities of the Kungur Six."

"I'm not sanctioning an op in support of you going in to steal anything, let alone something that may affect national security." Cooper stated, pursing his lips and rolling back onto his heels.

Red laughed and cocked his head to the side. "I'm flattered that you think I'm up to it, but thieving is not my strongest suit. Luckily, we have an ace of spades among us. Isn't that right, Agent Keen?" Red looked over at Lizzie who stood ramrod straight and stared at her dad in horror. What the hell did he think he was doing?!

/\/\/\/\

Cooper had practically dragged her to the side, over to the stairs which lead to the offices upstairs. Of course, Ressler obediently followed as well.

"What's he talking about? Is there something you want to tell us?" Cooper questioned, his hands on his hips. Why do all FBI guys do that when they're questioning someone?

"No, sir."

"Your father's criminal record didn't show up on your background report. Maybe yours is missing, too." Ressler spoke up.

Lizzie's eyes narrowed at him. So much for being friends. "I don't have a criminal record." Well it's not a lie.

"Because you never committed a crime, or because you were never caught?"

"Yes." Damn she was starting to sound like her dad. "I believe my work speaks for itself. Sir, I can do this."

Cooper stood silent, staring at her for a tense moment before nodding. "All right. We take the case. But understand, if you do this, you're gonna be on foreign soil. If something goes wrong, we can't protect you."

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie sat in an overstuffed chair in the rather feminine living room of what she assumed was Madeline Pratt's home. Red lounged on the couch, his arms outstretched on the back of the couch.

"I need to know about you, how you respond under pressure. This is an embassy. Security, cameras, armed guards everywhere. One mistake, and you go to prison." Madeline stated from her seat across the coffee table.

"Nicole here is as calm as a Hindu cow." Red stated gesturing at Lizzie before swinging his head to look at her. "Tell her that story about Frank."

"Who's Frank?"

Lizzie gave Red the stink eye before turning her head to answer Madeline. "A guy I knew."

"What story?"

"We met in high school. We grifted. Small jobs really, just whatever we had to do to pay the rent."

"Tell her about Omaha."

She was going to kill him. She changed her mind. Her baby was going to grow up without a grandpa. Taking a deep breath, Lizzie smiled at Madeline. "I was 17. There was a drugstore. Thursday night. They made bank deposits on Friday. I was the lookout. The night manager came back. He forgot his glasses. I gave the signal, but nothing. I'd convinced myself that Frank was the only thing I had in the world, so the night manager was an easy decision."

Madeline leaned forward, clearly interested. "What did you–"

"I seduced him into the alley."

"And then what?"

"I played him for a little bit, then I kissed him off, told him he'd get more next week. And Frank and I went away."

"And lived happily ever after. The end." Red laughed.

Madeline looked over at Red, a brow quirked. "I thought you didn't believe in happily ever after."

Lizzie sighed, standing up quickly. "I didn't come here to audition." She stated and grabbed her coat.

"Wait. The job. It's yours."

"I don't want the job. Call somebody who does." Lizzie reached into her pocket and tossed Madeline her own cell phone before heading towards the front door.

"How did you get my phone?" Madeline murmured before looking up and calling out "— What if I paid you double?"

Lizzie stopped at the front door and then walked slowly back into the living room. She couldn't have played Madeline Pratt better if she'd rehearsed it.

Red shook his head in obvious delight. "See, this is what I love about the two of you. Headstrong, yet vulnerable. Confident, but cautious. I think you're gonna get along great."

Lizzie didn't see that happening anytime soon.

Once they had come to agreement, it was work of mere moments for Madeline to grab the blueprints of the embassy and for them to begin strategizing.

"Your name will be on the guests list. The statue's in a UL-approved Class I vault situated in a strong room one level below the ground floor."

"How long will it take to breach?" Lizzie questioned.

"An auto-dialer can circumvent the electronic keypad in two, maybe three minutes tops. I'll supply equipment that can get through a metal detector."

"What about physical security?"

"There are two guards stationed outside that strong room, armed and mobile. They do a hall sweep every 20 minutes. When they take their patrol at 9:20, – you'll have 10 minutes."

Lizzie nodded at this. "How do I get in?"

"Dirar Marwan, embassy official. He has the security credentials you'll need to get to the structure's classified lower level. He takes a coffee break every day at 4:00 PM, wears his ID on the lapel of his jacket, easy enough to unclip in a standard brush pass. This lift needs to be round trip, not one way. Can't raise any flags."

"I know someone who can clone his badge before Marwan can return to the embassy." Lizzie shrugged as if it was no big deal. It wasn't, Aram could probably do it in his sleep. "How will you return his badge?"

"I won't. You will, in a second brush pass before he re–enters the building."

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie leaned against a car, wrapping her coat tighter around her. When she saw Marwan jogging down the steps of the embassy for his next caffeine fix, she quickly stood up, making her way closer. As she came upon him she bumped into him, swiping his badge from his lapel flawlessly. Good to know she's still got it.

Turning abruptly, Lizzie climbed into the surveillance van where Aram sat and handed him the badge.

"Okay, here we go." He murmured, getting to work.

"You good?" Lizzie asked, shifting on her feet.

"I will be in 90 seconds."

Lizzie took a small chip out of her pocket and held it out for Aram.

"What's that?" He questioned.

"It's Madeline Pratt's SIM card. I swiped it when I palmed her phone. If I'm gonna do this, I want to know who she talks to and why."

"You know how to palm a phone?" Aram asked, hesitantly taking the SIM card from Lizzie's fingers.

"He's coming. We have about 15 seconds. Hurry." Meera's voice came over the small speaker in Lizzie's ear.

"How are we doing on Marwan's ID?" Ressler's voice came over next.

"How long you need?" Lizzie questioned Aram.

"Almost there. Okay, 30 seconds."

"He's on the move." Meera's voice came over slightly anxious.

"I need the badge now, Aram." Lizzie stated impatiently.

"Somebody stall him." Meera directs.

Lizzie hears the door to the front of the van open and slam shut. Ressler must have volunteered as tribute.

"We are a go." Aram muttered, hitting a few more buttons before handing Lizzie the ID.

Lizzie jumps out of the van and knocks into Marwan again just as he spins back around from being slammed into by Ressler. Marwan walks away none the wiser to the fact that his badge had been missing at all.

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie was readjusting one of the pins in her hair in the mirror as she listened to her dad's voice travel down the stairs of his safe house.

"We have a problem. I had my people run background on the guest list for tonight's event. The file's on the Ottoman. Rasil Kalif– notorious playboy– works as a cultural attaché in the Syrian embassy. Apparently, Madeline's been seeing him for some time."

Lizzie turned and grabbed the afore mentioned file from the ottoman and skimmed through it. "Why is that a problem?" She yelled so he could hear.

"Cultural attaché is Kalif's cover. Truth is he's been recruited as an asset by the Russian Bratva– he's a mobster. My guess is he's the one who hired Maddie to steal the Effigy. And right about now, she's walking into the embassy as his date."

"What? You said her profile was too high and she wasn't going."

"Well, she is." Red countered.

"Why would she hire us to steal the Effigy when she's obviously planning on stealing it herself?" Lizzie spun around at the sound of her dad descending the stairs.

Red stopped in the doorway of the den and smiled softly as he gazed at her in her flowing red dress. "Wow! Sweetheart, you look beautiful."

Lizzie smiled and almost said thank you until her brain caught up with what she was seeing. "What are you wearing?"

Red looked down at himself and shrugged. "A tuxedo. I'm your plus one."

"You can't get into that embassy." Lizzie looked at her father like he was nuts. To be fair, the jury was still out on that one.

"Oh, yes, I can." Red chuckled. "Some of my best friends are Syrian."

"You act like this is a joke." Lizzie's breath hitched. "There's a digital net over the embassy. Aram can't access the surveillance feeds. I'm going onto foreign soil to steal a priceless artifact with no backup."

Red walked forward and grasped her upper arm, squeezing comfortingly. "You have me. And I'm not gonna let anything happen to you."

/\/\/\/\

"There's Madeline." Lizzie nodded subtly in the woman's direction. "Think she beat us to it?"

"Stay on task. We have two minutes to access the security door." Red grasped Lizzie's hand in his and spun her. "Shall we?" He questioned though he was already leading her in a dance. Lizzie tensed, not feeling that this was the time or the place for this and looking around, attempting to keep her eyes on Madeline Pratt. "Lizzie, I know this must be very difficult for you, but I need you to relax. Think of this as that father-daughter dance we never got to have." He murmured lowly.

Lizzie took a deep breath and smiled at him, allowing him to lead.

"How did you know about Omaha?"

"I didn't." Red shook his head, returning her smile.

"You're the one who brought it up."

"Well, it was a heartwarming story. The night manager and the alley."

"I made it up." Lizzie stated, blushing slightly.

Red chuckled darkly. "You better have. If I heard you'd taken up those shenanigans again after promising me you wouldn't, well, I feel it is within my rights to say you are so very grounded, young lady.

Lizzie laughed, shaking her head. "You couldn't ground me even when I was younger. All I had to do was turn on my best puppy dog eyes and you were putty in my hands."

Red harrumphed, rolling his eyes. "Don't let that get out, will you? I've a reputation to maintain." After they shared a couple chuckles, Red quieted. "How are you feeling?" His eyes motioned towards her stomach in obvious question.

Lizzie smiled sweetly, touched by his concern. "We're fine. Don't worry."

"I can't help but worry. Constantly."

They danced for a few moments, slowly making their way across the floor to where they needed to be. "Now Lizzie, you're not a cop tonight. You're a criminal. And you're gonna be fine. Just be yourself. The security door is behind you." He murmured close to her ear.

"Okay, I'm gonna need a distraction."

"Be yourself." Red propels her in a spin toward the buffet table, directly into the path of a waiter holding a tray of champagne. In the immediate commotion, no one noticed Lizzie slink off into the nearby hallway, towards the security door.

Once he was sure Lizzie had gotten through the door, Red turned and made his way over to Madeline and her date, Rasil Kalif. "Mind if I cut in?" He asked, though he had already grasped Madeline's wrist and spun her away before Kalif could answer. "What are you doing here, Madeline?" He asked, pulling her closer to him as they danced.

"What are you doing here, Red?"

"I came to watch you." He murmured lowly in her ear.

"Thank you. You still wear the hell out of a tux."

"My plane is 15 minutes from here. We could be in Tegucigalpa by breakfast." He could feel her smile against his cheek.

"The girl– tell me about her."

"What would you like to know?"

"How did you pick her?"

Red chuckled. "Fate."

"She's a little young for you."

"You think?" Red quirked an eyebrow, trying not to think of the insinuations yet allowing her to make the assumption nonetheless as he spun her then brought her back in towards him, back to his front.

"Last summer, what happened in Florence? What happened to you? You left me alone. I deserve an explanation. "

Red kissed her shoulder, his arms tightly around her as they swayed. "I was serious about Tegucigalpa. What do you think? Right now."

"What happened in Florence?" She questioned, a bit more forcefully.

Red didn't even have a chance to come up with another deflection as an alarm began blaring.

Madeline's escort – Kalif, came running over and grabbed her hand. "Come! I need to get you to the safe room. All embassy dignitaries will head to the safe room."

As they rushed off, Red stood calmly looking around him. A guard walked passed him and Red takes the opportunity, pinching the man on the neck and sending him to sleep. He took the man's gun from his holster and quickly fired two shots into the air, causing the crowd of people around them to scream and stampede for the nearby exits. Red dumped the gun into a champagne chiller.

Red heads down a stairwell and moves to the side as a group of guards pass him. He noticed a straggler and stops him as he tries to pass.

"Shh! Shh! Shh! Shh! There was a man. He had a gun. The man had a gun."

When the guard looks to where Red is pointing, Red takes him in a choke hold and holds it until the man stops flailing, stealing his pistol and holstering it in the waist of his trousers.

Once he got to the bottom of the stairwell he, turns down the hallway and finds Lizzie, restrained in a chair with a guard standing guard over her.

"There you are! What the hell happened to you?! You just leave me stranded with that awful Algerian?! He's been hitting on me for 20 minutes!" Red shouts at her rather… flamboyantly.

"Sir, this is a secure area!" The guard shouts.

"Well, not secure enough if you ask me, sister. You know what? Why don't you ask Rasil? We wouldn't even be here if it weren't for that troublemaker." Red said, sweeping his hand out towards the hallway before placing his hands on his hips and cocking said hips to the side saucily. "Always an agenda with him. Cultural attaché. Culture my ass. The things I do for this one." He points to Lizzie who is staring up at him, stunned. "Gallivanting around the globe for your little assignations with you–know–hmm–hmm, carrying her furs and bikinis as if I wouldn't rather be back in Dutchess County with my shelties. Hey, don't take anything for granted!" Red leans forward, getting into her face. "Everything you have was bought and paid for by your boyfriend! Do you have any idea whose horn this tramp is blowing? Let's just say it starts with Bashar and ends with Assad, gassing you faster than a Sunni." Red stood back up and addressed the guard. "So, let's get her out of the hot seat and into a limo– good God! – Crumbs up!" Red shouted, pointing disgustedly at the man's waist.

"– What?" The poor guard questioned, looking down at himself.

"Your cummerbund. Pleats up! You look like Bob Yoshimura in 8th–grade swing choir. It's upside down!"

Red moved towards him as if to fix it and when the guard looked down, Red punched him, knocking him out.

"Aah! God, that hurts! Ohh!" Red groaned, clutching his hand as he walked over to the guard, swiping the keys from him.

"What the hell was that?" Lizzie questioned, unable to keep in a small giggle.

"I don't know. It just felt so right in the moment." Red sighed, only slightly embarrassed. He quickly finds the needed key and uncuffs Lizzie, enabling her to stand up.

"Where's Pratt?"

"Gone."

"And the effigy?"

"Gone with her."

"God, Dad. I know you two have history but we have got to discuss your choice in women! She is so not coming to Christmas dinner."

/\/\/\/\

"Where the hell is Reddington?" Cooper barked at Lizzie as he walked up to where she stood in the war room, her hair and make up were still all done up but she had changed into more comfortable clothes.

"He told me he was going to try and locate Pratt."

"For all we know, he set up this whole thing so he could get the identities of the Russian spies, damaging national security. The Syrians know the safe was opened as a distraction, and they're still trying to account for exactly who was in that panic room with the effigy. They're attributing the whole heist to Reddington."

"She knew where the effigy was the entire time, and she used us to get it." Lizzie defended. "She got me to set off the alarm, and she used Reddington's notoriety get the Syrians to believe that he took it."

"We got something." Meera stated, walking over to them. "The SIM card Keen took from Pratt's phone. This is a list of outgoing calls she made over the past two weeks. Several of these calls were to a mosque outside of Arlington."

"Homeland has a person of interest tied to that mosque– a cleric named Firas Ashear." Ressler continued where Meera left off.

"And he's connected how?" Cooper asked, looking at the files that Ressler handed to him.

"We're not sure. But the biggest red flag is his family's connection to The People's Liberation Alliance." Ressler answered.

"Extremist organization out of Aleppo. Apparently, the father is a local warlord – with financial ties to the group." Meera continued for him.

Cooper nodded, shutting the folder and slapping it on the table. "Find him. Bring him in for questioning."

As they made their way out, heading to find Firas Ashear, Lizzie and Ressler stepped into the elevator. Just as Lizzie closed her eyes, absolutely exhausted, her phone began to ring. Glancing at the screen, her brow furrowed in confusion at the unknown number. Assuming it was her dad, she answered.

"Hello?"

"Lizzie. Please, wait! Don't hang up!"

"Tom? What the hell are you doing calling me? How did you get this number?"

Taking Red's advice, Lizzie had changed her phone number and gotten a new phone after they had kicked Tom to the curb.

"That doesn't matter, listen. Please, I just… I want to see you. Can we talk?"

"Absolutely not."

Lizzie hung up and, with the push of a few buttons, blocked any more calls from that number. She assumed he had used a burner phone but it still felt good, like she was doing something proactive. She was going to have to talk to her dad about this.

"You want me to rough him up for you?" Ressler asked gently.

Lizzie laughed softly, shaking her head. "I think you'll have to wait in line. I think Red wants a shot at him first."

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie hadn't slept in 24 hours. She'd had to escape to the bathroom twice in the last two hours so that she could go through her usual morning routine. Apparently the baby didn't care if she hadn't slept and there were no windows in the Post Office, making the idea of 'morning' rather relative.

They had finished interrogating Firas Ashear and the team immediately jumped to start researching everything he'd told them. The early morning hours now found the whole team standing in the Post Office once more.

"The CIA sanctioned a covert op to raid the compound of Al Hakam Ashear in early December 1983. The Agency received credible intelligence that Ashear had met with a former KGB agent to purchase information." Cooper stated, taping pictures and scraps of paper onto the evidence boards.

"What kind of information?" Ressler asked before stifling a yawn.

"Ashear paid $3 million for the location of the Kungur Six, which, according to the son's story, he hid in the base of the statue." Meera answered.

"So, it appears the six aren't people." Cooper sighed, taking off his reading glasses and rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

"What do you mean?" Lizzie questioned, perking up slightly.

"During the Cold War, there were rumors that Russia was able to hide several nuclear weapons in America."

"Those weren't rumors." Ressler stated though it came out as more of a question.

"Pratt was hired to steal the effigy because inside it are directions to those weapons. The Kungur Six are not Russian agents." Cooper continued.

"They're nuclear bombs. Hidden all across the country." Lizzie said, horrified.

/\/\/\/\

Red came up alongside Madeline as she walked down the street, grasping her elbow firmly in his hand and propelling her forward, forcing her into a brisk trot in her heels. "Tell me about the coordinates."

"What coordinates?" Madeline tries to tug her arm away from Red. "Stop it."

"I had a little talk with Rasil. We had a few laughs, compared notes about you. He told me all about that delightful thing you do with a trouser belt, which was a bit hurtful, since I was pretty sure it was our thing. The coordinates."

Madeline chuckled darkly. "It's over. You were played. Go home. You really want to know why I brought you into this?" Madeline stopped, stepping directly into Red's path so that he was forced to stop or risk bowling her over. "Florence. Because you didn't show. Florence was everything, our way out, a fresh start. But to you, it's all just a job. Tegucigalpa? Honestly? If I was interested in having an affair, I'd find a man with hair."

Red's lips purse but before he can answer, two men come up behind them and Red feels the familiar stinging jolt of a taser.

/\/\/\/\

"Raymond. Raymond, is that you? Raymond, say something." At the sound of Madeline's frantic voice, Red groaned and flopped onto his back on the dirty cell he was being held in.

/\/\/\/\

A little while later, Red had dragged himself over to the wall close to Madeline's cell. There was a small slot between the two which allowed them to talk and see at least a portion of each others' faces.

"The Syrians aren't getting the effigy back. It's gone. I've already sold it to the Russians." Madeline stated, shaking her head hopelessly.

"I ran out of gas." Red murmured, licking his dry lips.

"Huh?"

"I was so excited to get home, I didn't even bother to look. My head was just – I ran out of gas."

"What are you talking about?" Madeline questioned. He must seem delirious from the torture.

"It was Christmas Eve. I pulled off to the side of the road. Seemed like it'd been snowing for days. No traffic. No cars to come help. Just me and a car full of gifts. It was more than 20 years ago. I must have walked four miles five, maybe." Red closed his eyes, chuckling lowly at the distant memory. "It was so still. Just cold and white. The whole time, all I could think about was them in our house. The warm light in the windows, the smoke from the chimney." Red's lips thinned, the corners of his eyes pinched tighter. "The sound of my daughter at the piano. The smell of the tree and the fire, oyster stew on the stove. I was so upset to think that I'd ruined Christmas for them, being late, leaving the gifts in the car. But the closer I got, the more I realized how funny the whole thing was, how much they'd love the story, daddy running out of gas, how every Christmas they'd get such joy from telling that story at my expense."

Red's smile at the idea of the joke quickly diminished. "And then, finally I got there. I walked… I walked through the door. And there was just blood. All I saw was blood. All there was was blood." Red's voice had darkened to a growl. "I can… I can still s–smell the nape of her neck, feel her little fingers on my cheek her whisper in my ear." Red's face contorted in a grimace before he opened his eyes to the sight of tears sliding down Madeline's cheek. "That's why I didn't show up in Florence. It's why I haven't shown up in a lot of places over the years."

At that moment, two of the guards unlocked the door to Red's cell and dragged him out, his legs trailing behind him limply.

"No, don't. Please, please. No, please! Stop! Please stop! Please stop! Please come back! I'll tell you what you want to know!" Madeline cried out.

/\/\/\/\

Madeline gave the note pad with coordinates written on it over to the guard.

"Now, I gave you what you wanted. Where is he?"

The guard immediately turned around and handed the pad to Red who stood in all his good-looking glory, cleaned up, with barely a mark on him and wearing the hell out of a light blue three-piece suit.

"No." Madeline groaned, realizing she'd been played.

"We have the location of the effigy." Red stated before hanging up his phone.

"You son of a –"

"Yes." Red smiled grimly at Madeline.

"You'll never get to it in time. Damn you, Reddington! Damn you, Raymond! You let me out of here right now, you son of a bitch! Was it true? That story about your family? Was any of it true?" She cried.

Red stood there for a moment before placing his fedora on his head. It was the truth. It had hurt so damn much to dredge up those memories. He wanted nothing more to go home and hug Lizzie, make plans for his little grandbaby. But it was also a convenient truth, the pain of those memories were a necessary evil to get Madeline right where he wanted her. "I never would have taken you to Tegucigalpa." He murmured before leaving, ignoring her cries to let her out.

/\/\/\/\/\

After a shoot out involving Rasil Kalif and his men as they tried to extract the effigy, the team had been able to subdue the men and take the effigy. Within the hour, everyone was back in the Post Office to regroup.

"ERT examined the statue. There was nothing inside, no coordinates. No papers of any kind, nothing on Kalif or any of his men." Cooper stated angrily, pacing his office where he had asked/ordered Red to meet him.

"It appears Madeline sent us on a good old–fashioned snipe hunt." Red shook his head, as if disappointed.

"I sent a team to the warehouse where you said we could find Pratt. She was gone. Where is she?" Cooper questioned, stepping towards Red.

"Let's talk about the effigy."

"Why? The idea that it actually contained anything was obviously a myth."

"Or maybe Madeline double-crossed the Russians and kept the coordinates to the nukes for herself and led you to believe it was all a myth."

Cooper reared back on his heels, blowing air forcefully out of his nose. "You have them."

"While you were chasing the effigy, I was coming to terms with Madeline. In a moment of …weakness, she gave me the coordinates."

"You knew there was nothing inside the effigy when you sent us after Kalif."

"I thought you might have a passing interest in rounding up some Russian mobsters."

Cooper huffed. "The coordinates. Where are they?"

"Relax, Harold. I have no use for rusty Russian firecrackers left over from the '60s."

Cooper's brow raised as realization dawned on him. "You want the effigy"

Red smiled brightly at Cooper. "And you want the bombs. How about a trade?"

/\/\/\/\

"Case file on Pratt." Ressler murmured, setting the now rather thick file down on Lizzie's desk and walking back over to his own, gathering his stuff.

Lizzie shook herself from her malaise and looked over at him. "You taking off already?" She asked quietly.

Ressler gave a small grin. "Yeah. Meeting Audrey for dinner." Ressler finally looked back up from where he'd been cleaning up the day's clutter from his desk and frowned at Lizzie's unmasked sadness.

"Hey? What's up? Tom bothering you again?"

Lizzie laughed wetly, ashamed to realize she was tearing up. Damn hormones. Was it too early to blame hormones? Screw it, she was going to blame the hormones.

"No. Well, sort of." Lizzie tsked her teeth. "I guess you could say he'll be bothering me for years to come."

"Huh?"

"I'm uh…I'm pregnant."

Ressler's eyes widen and he slowly walks over to lean against Lizzie's desk, beside her chair.

Lizzie leaned back in her chair and blew out a breath. "No. Go." She said waving him off. "You have dinner."

"She'll understand." He murmured, giving her a soft smile and offering his hand to help her up. "Up for some Chinese?"