Was it bad that Ressler didn't want Gale to find Keen? Don't get him wrong, he wanted to find her, but he didn't want Gale to find her, especially not before he did. He did not want Keen thrown into a hole never to be seen or heard from again. Ressler knew Gale would ship her off to a black site and that would be that. No, Ressler wanted a crack at her first. He wanted to know why she was taunting him, why she tipped him off about Gale, why she joined Reddington. He had so many questions, and he knew if he did not catch her first, he would never get those answers.

Once they landed in Vienna, the team headed to a prearranged safe house to set up base. Ressler chose to begin his investigation on his own. He told the team he was grabbing food for everyone after the long flight. What he was actually going to do was going to the café Keen was spotted outside of to ask them some questions about her whereabouts.

When he arrived at the café, he showed Keen's picture to the hostess.

"Have you been here all day?" He asked.

"Yes," the thick accented hostess said in decent English.

"Do you recognize this woman?"

To Ressler's surprise, the hostess broke into a smile and pointed at the picture, "Oh yes, that's Ms. Liz."

"How do you know her?"

"She comes in all the time. Turkey club, no tomato on wheat. She's a good tipper." The hostess beamed at Ressler unaware that her favorite customer was an international fugitive. I'd tip well too if I had an unlimited illegal revenue supply in cash and wanted to keep the locals happy, Ressler thought.

"She came in today, correct?" Ressler asked.

"Yes. For lunch."

"Do you where she went after?" The hostess was beginning to get suspicious at why this American was asking so many questions. Ressler could not flash his badge, it meant nothing here and he had no jurisdiction. He'd have to think quick to not raise more suspicion in case Reddington had paid informants that may work here. Reddington was known to have an endless information stream from informants around the world. "She's a friend of mine. She isn't answering her phone, and I need to find her. It's urgent."

The hostess smiled again, "Oh yes, she lives around the corner."

"Do you know the address?" This might be his lucky day.

"Not the exact address, but I know she lives in the red building right there," she pointed to a five-story red brick walk up just down the block.

"Thank you. Thank you so much," Ressler wanted to tip her for her help, but then remembered all he had was American money.

Ressler headed back on to the streets doing a cursory check up and down out of habit. He wanted to call in this lead, but he didn't want Gale to block him and take over. He knew going in alone and blind was stupid and dangerous. However, it seemed like if he did not check out the lead now, he might miss his opportunity. He knew Red never stayed anywhere for more than a few days, and Liz being his daughter would know that, too.

What if she was already gone? There could be evidence left behind. If she was still there, this might be his only chance at getting the jump on her. Drone surveillance had not seen proof of Red or Dembe with her. She could be alone and so close. He may regret this later, but he was not going to call this in until he saw what was in that apartment. This went against all his training. What was Keen doing to him?

As his insurance policy, Ressler texted Aram: Might have found Liz. Track my phone. Don't tell Gale, yet.

There, at least someone would know where he was. Didn't need another warehouse incident. Ressler checked for traffic and walked across the busy early evening bustle. The red building was on the corner. Ressler noted three possible exits in addition to the front door including fire escapes on both the North and South sides as well as a side door. Ressler walked into the lobby of the building which was small and straight forward. A staircase in the middle headed upstairs while a door to his left was marked "Basement access." A wall to his right was lined with in wall mailboxes and a building directory with a dirty plexiglass cover. He examined the names, many of which were hard to pronounce, but one stuck out to him, L. Scott. Liz Scott, he presumed. Very clever Keen. Sam Scott was Elizabeth Keen's adoptive father; he took care of her for most of her life. This was before she knew anything of Reddington being her real father. L. Scott stood for Liz Scott, at least Ressler hoped it did. Maybe he knew more about her than he thought.

Ressler skipped steps two at a time on his way to apartment 404. With the last couple steps Ressler slowed his enthusiastic stair climb to a slow step at a time. He wanted to maintain his element of surprise and quietly approach the door. The fourth-floor landing opened to two apartment doors on either side of him and two narrow walkways along the stairs led to two more doors. Ressler swung around the railing to his left following the even numbers. 404 was the back-left apartment. He checked the surrounding doors to make sure he was alone and would have no audience peeking out. The last thing he needed was innocent bystanders getting in the middle of his capture of Keen.

Ressler approached the door, upholstering his gun and positioning himself away from the opening in case of immediate conflict from the other side. He was about to knock when he saw the door was ajar. He saw a slight crack of light creeping through the inch gap between door and frame. Maybe he was not the only one looking for Keen today, or she already skipped town and did not bother locking up.

He slowly pushed the door open, raising gun at the ready. Once inside, he scanned the room. It was a basic rental, no personal effects, or decorations. A bland low-income unit. A small kitchenette and single two-seat couch living room made up the dimly light room. Only a single window allowed light in with the actual lights turned off. There was nowhere to hide in here. Ressler moved to the window, still cautious in his steps. Light and soundless, he made his way to the window and check for an escape plan. There was no fire escape access.

Two other doors on the adjacent side of the apartment were his only hope. Passing the kitchenette, Ressler noticed the takeout bag from the café on the counter. An uneaten sandwich and chips lay untouched. Odd seeing as the hostess had said she was there for lunch, several hours earlier. He wiped it from his mind and deciding picking which door to open was more important. He chose the right. Ready for whatever may or may not jump out at him, he turned the knob and stepped back quickly, gun at the ready.

Nothing. He poked his head in and moved a few random hangered clothes around but found nothing of interest like a 30-year-old brunette female. Left door then. This time when Ressler opened the door and stepped back, he heard movement on the other side. He stiffened his grip on his gun and added his other hand to stable his aim. It was a bedroom, a small room with a bed and single dresser. He took a few steps into the room and turned slightly to his right to see his prize. Elizabeth Keen, there in the flesh.

"Well, well, if it isn't Elizabeth Keen," Ressler said with some smugness. He had waited a long time for this moment. The smugness was overdue.

"You need to leave," said Liz. She was standing near the window in a peculiar posture. She did not seem to be moving, even looked a little scared.

"Leave? I don't think so. I've been looking forward to this moment for a long time." Ressler moved away from the door and toward Keen. "Elizabeth Keen you are under arr—"

"Ressler, watch out!"

Black spots blurred his vision as something large a heavy connected with the back of his head. He crashed to the floor. He landed face down, pain shooting out from his jaw, too. The back of his skull was pulsating, and his head was in the middle of a tornado. He tried to get up, but the message never made it to his limbs. A trickle of blood reached his bare neck and dripped to the floor. He could hear footsteps and a gasp from Keen. Before Ressler could try to stand again, someone helped his efforts by grabbing the back of his suit and wrenching off the floor with the strength of a giant. He landed clumsily on his feet, the vertical rush spinning his head tornado faster. Once on his feet again, he tried to make out his surroundings but could only see blurred shadows of figures. Three figures including Keen. He assumed the fourth behind him was an actual giant the way he moved Ressler like a puppet.

"Who do we have here?" One of the figures spoke.

"He's not a part of this," Keen said.

"Sweetie, anybody who knew you by name, is important to me." The figured moved into Ressler's vision more clearly. He was rummaging through his suit pockets until he found his badge. "Ah, looks like we've caught ourselves a fed. Thought you lot were a bit more careful than to run around by yourself."

"Blimey we caught a dumb bloke," the other figure said.

"Excuse me," he checked Ressler identification, "Agent Donald Ressler of the FBI, what is your business here?"

"Keen," Ressler said trying to tame the tornado.

"You in business with her, are you?"

The pulsating pain was not subsiding, and Ressler was trying to focus his eyes. He squinted harder to try to make out faces. The blurs were coming into focus again. He saw to leather jacket bound middle aged men on either side of him. Between them but behind them stood Keen, who had not moved from her spot when he was knocked to the ground. He noticed her writhing against something. He squinted harder. Shit. Keen was handcuffed to the radiator, both hands cuffed behind her back. Now it made sense why she looked scared when he entered. She was already under capture. These men must have heard him enter and hid. She had tried to warn him.

Then the pain shot through him even worse than before as the giant shock his whole body with ease lifting him off the ground.

"Hey, fed. Answer me." Ressler forgot what the question was. "Are you in business with Elizabeth Keen."

"No." Ressler answered.

"I don't believe you." The leather jackets shared a look.

"I say we take them both. Reddington will pay top dollar for her and who knows what we could get for an American government agent. This could be our lucky day." The irony, Ressler thought. He too had thought today was his lucky day.

"Get the ties. We need to prep them for transport."

The giant let go of Ressler and he dropped the remainder couple of inches to the floor trying to find his footing again. One of the men unlocked Keen's cuffs while the other rummaged through a bag for ties. Ressler looked at Keen who looked on with pity at him. She did try to warn him. Was she an international fugitive with a soul? Then, Ressler saw his gun. It had fallen out of his hand when he was clocked in the head. It lay slightly under the lone bed. He had not noticed the men holding any guns themselves. The giant was guarding the door, the one rummaging was by the bathroom door across the room and the third was looking out the window. If he could just get his gun, he might be able to get out of this. He made eye contact with Keen and then looked at the gun. She picked up on his plan and nodded.

Ressler made his move. As he went for the gun, Keen ran at the man by the window knocking him hard into the window. Ressler grabbed the gun and turned around to meet two guns pointing right back at him. The giant held a pistol while the leather jacket had whipped out a shotgun out of his rummage bag. He cocked the shotgun and said, "Put it down laddie."

A scream from behind him made his head snap around. Keen was being held by her hair; a gun pressed to her temple.

"Put. The. Gun. Down." The leather jacket repeated.

Ressler followed instructions putting the gun down and raising his hands in defense.

"Secure him."

The giant came over and Ressler felt a frying pan sized hand fist his hair right on his head wound and slam his face into the floor. A knee to his back weighted him down and his arms were then wrenched behind his back. Keen showed up along side him her own face smashed into the floor. Both their hands were tied, and duct taped placed over their mouths. The giant picked each of them up and grabbed an arm on each ready to transport.

"I will remind you, if you try anymore of that funny business," the non-shotgun leather jackets took his pistol and whipped Ressler across the face with the barrel, then did the same to Keen, "No more." The barrel cut Keen's cheek and she winced at the strike of pain. Ressler could feel the cut on his own face adding to the blood already soaking his suit. Ressler looked over at Keen again, meeting her eyes. Another meeting, another miss. Maybe he could donate some blood to one of their capturers and get out of it alive.

The giant dragged both Keen and Ressler by the arm after the leather jackets. Down the stairs, out the side door and into a car with tinted windows. In the car, the giant pulled black hoods over their heads and they spent the rest of the ride in darkness and silence. Why did Ressler go against his training? Why did he have to be so selfish with Keen? He wanted to catch her himself and look where that had gotten him. Then, he remembered the tracker. Aram, this is your time to shine. Come on, Aram, come find me, Ressler pleaded with the universe. Please find us.