Chapter Six
This wasn't their first Blacklister that exploited secrets, but he was one that Reddington found interesting while he was hunting down Liz's mother. A woman that Red himself had referred to as a secret keeper once. The question wasn't if this case had to do with Katarina Rostova, it was how. Would the Collector lead Reddington to her somehow? To the Sikorsky Archive that the people behind the Townsend Directive thought she'd stolen? Or perhaps he wanted to destroy any evidence that might clear Liz's mother in their eyes. Why, that was the big question. He'd loved her once, she thought. But that had been when she had thought he was her father and when she thought he was Ilya. Now she was back to square one not knowing who he was or what his connection was to her or her mother. Ressler had said that the only thing he knew for sure was that Reddington cared about her, but what if that wasn't true? He'd used her once to find the Fulcrum. Maybe she was just a convenient tool to get him to where he needed to go.
If there was one thing that Elizabeth Keen had learned as an absolute truth over the years it was that everyone had secrets. Everyone. And Bruno Krause was no exception.
Liz and Ressler had been left to sit for what felt like hours, waiting on the attache to make time in his schedule to meet with them. They'd only gotten the meeting in the first place because they'd let slip that he was being targeted, but it had been a calculated release of information meant to get them through the door more quickly. Well, they'd gotten through the door, but for all their hurry they had been left to wait.
"Are you sure she's telling you the truth?"
Liz blinked, Ressler's voice startling her out of her daze. "Who?"
"Your mother."
"She has no reason to lie to me."
"That you know of." Liz shot him a look and Ressler shrugged. "What? With all the back and forth you've been doing with Reddington over the years … I mean, you've done a DNA test, right?"
"You mean a DNA test like the one with Kirk that showed he was my father?"
That pulled a rough chuckle from him. "Okay, fair enough, but I just mean…" He took a deep breath, pushing it out through his nose. "I'm here, Keen. If you need me. I mean it."
A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Be careful. I might take you up on that."
Any response he might have given was cut short by the door opening to reveal Bruno Krause. He was a tall man, broad, with striking blue eyes. He offered a curt nod and spoke with a thick accent. "Agent Ressler. Agent Keen. Sorry to keep you waiting. I'm not certain I understand why you are here?"
Liz and Ressler stood from their places. "We believe someone may be targeting you, Mr Krause," Ressler answered.
"Why would they be targeting me? I'm nobody."
"You have access," Liz pointed out. "Diplomatic immunity can take you a long way."
"I'm not corrupt."
"Really? Did Amanda Clemmons think you were squeaky clean too?" Ressler asked pointedly and Krause paled.
"I'm sorry… who?"
"Amanda Clemmons," Liz pressed. "Five years ago you two went for a drive and you crashed her car into a lake and left her for dead. That's not easy to forget."
"But when something like that comes out, it is easy for someone to use it against you," Ressler added.
"What is all of this?" Krause demanded. "Are you here to arrest me? You have no proof of this."
"No, we don't," Liz answered. "But a man known as The Collector either will or has reached out to you. All we know is what he's using against you, not what he wants from you." She watched as he shifted a little in his place, nerves on edge. "If you help us catch him, we can help you."
Liz watched as his icy blue eyes shifted from her to Ressler, almost as if he expected help there. Liz's partner shook his head. "Diplomatic immunity may keep us from arresting you today, but do you really think you're worth enough to the German government to risk their US relations?"
Krause glanced nervously at the closed door behind him and Liz's phone started buzzing in her jacket pocket. She didn't dare reach for it and risk breaking his moment of decision. Finally, he pulled in what was likely supposed to be a steadying breath. "This man - The Collector - he reached out to me. I will help you, but I want to make a deal first."
Ressler nodded. "Let's take a trip."
Krause nodded and they ushered him out of the room. Security didn't stop them as he walked out of the front door of the German embassy and onto US soil. Ressler showed him to the back seat of the SUV they had arrived in and Liz risked a glance at her phone. There was a single text from her mother's number:
They found me. I'll be in touch.
"Keen?"
Liz blinked hard and found Ressler staring at her. She'd stopped moving, her whole focus on the text and all the questions that accompanied it. "I think my mother's in trouble."
"You need to go?"
She sucked in a breath, hoping to use it to push the words out from her throat, but they stalled there. Regardless of what Reddington got from it, Krause was a terrible man that would help them reach a different type of terrible man with a broader reach. This was their job. She couldn't just run off at a single text with no context.
"No," she managed. "She won't be there anyway. I'll have to wait until she reaches out. Let's get this guy."
Ressler watched her for a long moment before he finally nodded, circling around to the driver's side and slipping into the vehicle. Liz followed, her phone heavy in her hand.
There was something about the ease in which the United States government had been willing to throw out his first immunity agreement as if it had never existed at all that left Reddington more hesitant than he used to be to meet with Elizabeth or the Task Force at the Post Office. He preferred a venue of his own choosing. Preferably one with multiple exits. It wasn't that he distrusted the Task Force, per se, but he knew the types of people that they answered to.
When the call came through that day requesting his presence he had countered with his own location. He'd expected Elizabeth, though, not Cooper.
Reddington turned just as Dembe was escorting the assistant director into the kitchen that had become his new favourite haunt and, never one to broadcast that dome one had managed to catch him by surprise, Red flashed a charming smile. "Harold, you simply must try the Cassoulet. I typically prefer it with duck, but the chef uses a rare type of pork that is to die for."
"I'm not here for lunch."
"Of course not, but that doesn't mean you can't enjoy one," Red countered, his smile refusing to falter. "Tell me, what brings you here?"
"I'll admit, when Elizabeth brought The Collector in as the next name on your Blacklist, I was hesitant. I thought you might be sending us on a wild goose chase."
"Why's that, exactly?"
"You know why. He was a myth in the intelligence community. A man with access to too many secrets, more intel than any country would ever allow to be centralized."
"One country, certainly," Reddington answered lightly. "But many? That's an entirely different story."
Harold stared at him and Red could see that clever mind piecing it together. "The Cabal."
"Tell me, what have your people found that has made you a believer?"
And just like that his expression closed off. It was like a visual reminder that Harold Cooper hadn't gotten his start in the Bureau. He was former Navy Intelligence. He knew when to show a hand and when to hide it. Reddington ducked down to search through a cabinet for a bourbon he knew was hidden away there while Cooper decided how much to share.
"Your story on Bruno Krause checked out," Harold said after a moment and Reddington reached for the bottle. It was tucked away like the cook thought it might stay hidden.
"And the young woman?"
"We may not have enough to put him away from it, but the fact we knew about it certainly got his attention. He's agreed to work with us."
Reddington straightened, bottle in hand. "Oh. Then The Collector has already reached out?"
"Seems to be that way."
"Splendid. Krause will lead you straight to him. Once you have him, I'll need ten minutes. Preferably before he's delivered to the Post Office." He reached around for two glasses and set them next to the bottle on the counter between them.
"No."
"Five then," Reddington countered the single, sharp word.
"No."
He tilted his head. "Harold, a meeting with The Collector is the entire reason I brought you this case. I must speak with him."
"About what?"
Ah, so that was his angle. "It's a private matter."
"Elizabeth's mother?"
Reddington didn't answer, but instead he poured a couple fingers' worth of bourbon into either glass and pushed one over to Cooper.
The other man didn't touch it, but instead held his gaze. "Let me be clear, Reddington. You receive leeway with our task force. We overlook and ignore more than perhaps we should, but one thing I will not overlook - not today, not tomorrow, or any day in the future - is your conscious choice to betray Elizabeth by targeting her mother."
A moment of silence stretched between them and Red raised his own glass to his lips to take a long sip. He closed his eyes and allowed the liquid to burn its way down his throat. Once it had, he set it down, the glass clinking sharply against the metal surface, and his eyes slid back open to lock gazes with Harold. When he spoke, it was with great care, as if tasting each word before letting it fall from his tongue. "I…. appreciate your care for Elizabeth. I do. It gives me… hope that she'll always have someone to watch over her, even in the darkest of moments. You, Donald, Aram… perhaps even Agent Park someday. The devotion, the love you've shown her, gives me peace." He paused, head tilted to the side. "But my word is my bond, Harold, and I gave you my word I would not harm Elizabeth's mother."
"Then what do you want with The Collector if not to use him to get to Katarina Rostova?"
"There's a storm coming, Harold. I've already experienced the first waves. Elizabeth has as well, even if she didn't understand it. It will be dangerous. I have…. protected her and equipped her as best as I know how, but I fear it won't be enough. You all have become her… family. I need - she needs - that to remain true, no matter what."
"Are you going somewhere?" Harold asked carefully and Reddington chuckled.
"Someday. Smile, Harrold. We're nearing the finish and you're about to prove the intelligence community wrong by bringing in The Collector. Won't that be fun?"
His movement was slow, hesitant, but Harold reached forward for the glass that had been offered before. He drew it up to his lips and sipped at it, never letting his gaze leave Reddington. He didn't argue the reaffirmed promise, nor did he push any further on the pieces that Red had revealed. It was for the better. Reddington wasn't ready to admit his own mortality openly yet. Perhaps he never would be.
Tolliver was on the move. It had been a possibility he was prepared for, but she had played it smart. She hadn't disabled the bug. Instead she had moved around it. If Jacob hadn't had someone on the building he might not have known she was on her way out until it was too late to follow. As it was, Tolliver herself slipped her tail. Whoever this woman was, she was good.
Thankfully the tail had managed to stay on at least one of Tolliver's men - Simms - and he'd gotten the location over to Jacob. It was the best lead he could have gotten short of a direct sighting. As far as he could tell, Simms was trusted. He might not be with Tolliver then but he'd lead him to her.
Jacob kept his distance, but never too far as he watched. He followed the man across the metroplex to the point that he started to question if it was the best use of his time. Errand after errand, meeting and revealing nearly nothing. It was grunt work. He should have put one of Brigitte Tremblay's go-fors on it, but there was something pulling at Jacob's instincts that said that this was important. That he would lead him somewhere important.
He took a risk around five in the evening when Simms stopped for coffee. Jacob followed him into the crowded shop and bumped into him, tagging a small listening device to his clothes. He waited until Simms was gone and pulled it up to his phone, testing it. He'd seen his face, it was true, but he had ears on him in case he lost visual.
Simms several more stops before circling around in the most roundabout way to an apartment complex. Jacob knew where he was going before he ducked into the lobby. It would have taken effort not to, knowing Simms' connection to Tolliver and the fact that there was some sort of unexplained connection between Tolliver and Keen. It was her building. Tolliver's man was on his way to see Keen.
Jacob tucked himself back into an alcove outside the next building over and tapped his earbud, pulling up the audio feed in time to hear the elevator door ding. He could almost see Simms exit it onto the floor that Jacob had only seen briefly - early on when he had scouted out Keen's building - and to her door. Knuckles rapping against the solid wood door sounded over the feed and Jacob leaned back, eyes closed, and listened as the door opened.
"Simms." Keen. Tired. It'd been a long day. "Is she…?"
"She's safe. She wanted me to tell you."
"She could have told me herself."
"There wasn't time."
"What happened?"
"The room was bugged."
"Bugged?"
"One of Townsend's people. Possibly one of Reddington's." Interesting. Jacob only knew one name, but he logged both away.
Keen loosed a breath. "What can I do?"
"Exactly what you're doing. We'll reach out. She just… wanted you to know."
"Simms?" There was a pause and Jacob imagined the man turning back from his hasty retreat. "It was a risk coming here to tell me. Thank you."
"Wasn't my call."
"Still. Tell my mother… I'll do whatever she needs."
Jacob blinked hard. Her mother? Maddy Tolliver was Katarina Rostova? Well that was a twist he hadn't seen coming.
"Hey."
It took half a beat longer than it should have for Jacob to realize the voice had been from his right on the sidewalk rather than over the feed he was listening to. He turned to see a face he recognized as one of Tolliver's goons. Short and thick, he looked like he'd spent his life intimidating anyone that would cower away. "What's up, man?" Jacob asked casually.
"Step out."
Jacob tapped his earbud. "I'm on a call."
"I don't think so."
"I don't really care what you think, buddy, I -" Jacob's cover argument was cut off as the man reached out, fingers grabbing at the fabric of his shirt, and spun him around to throw him against the building wall hard. Jacob felt his head collide with it and the breath was pushed out of his lungs on impact. He would not have bet that the guy had that kind of strength tucked away in that build.
Live and learn.
Tolliver's thug came around for another blow and Jacob bobbed out of the way, his opponent's balled fist slamming into the brick wall and causing him to howl in pain. Jacob used the distraction and slammed his head forward into the building. The other man staggered and Jacob shoved him hard into the alley and out of any potentially prying eyes.
It was enough time for him to recover, apparently, and Jacob coughed hard as the opposite fist made contact just below his ribs. He gasped, finding it hard to hard to suck another lungful of air in and Tolliver's man came at him again, rushing him like a linebacker.
Jacob sidestepped and caught him from behind. He wrapped an arm around the shorter man's neck and lifted. He adjusted his angle and twisted hard before releasing him, sending the man crumbling to the ground with his head tilted in an unnatural way.
Instincts kicked in and Jacob turned, finding someone standing right behind him. He didn't have a chance to react before the newcomer shot a taser out, electric currents ripping through him and Jacob was swallowed up by darkness.
There weren't many people that Liz could call at half past midnight and for a favour, and the list was even shorter of people that she'd trust with her daughter's life, but Ressler landed right up there at the top. Oh, he'd given her enough grief over it and asked her if she really wanted to call in a favour for a glorified babysitter, but she thought that layered under the gruff teasing that he knew how much trust she was putting in him for this. Where there was one threat, there were usually others just waiting for a chance to strike, and the last thing Liz thought she could handle was leaving to help her mother and coming back to find whatever babysitter she managed to snag at this hour dead and her daughter gone all over again. Ressler wouldn't let that happen. That she knew. That she trusted.
And she was sure he knew that too.
Simms hadn't wanted to bring her along, but Liz hadn't really given him much of a choice. If the man was after her or her mother, they didn't know yet, but either way she couldn't sit idly by.
The van pulled to the curb outside of an old, seemingly abandoned warehouse and Liz stepped out and waited until he circled on around to lead her inside. He paused at the door. "We walk in there, you're not a cop, you understand?"
"You think this is my first enhanced interrogation?" Liz snapped irritably. "He was at home. Near my daughter. No, I'm definitely not a cop in there."
Simms studied her for a long moment before finally accepting it and walked her in. Liz could hear the distant sounds of a beating coming from inside and they followed the noise to a large, dimly lit room. Katarina stood in the middle, eying a man that had his back to Liz so that she couldn't see his face. He was strung up by his wrists to a low-hanging beam, his bare feet barely touching the concrete floor, and a mountain of a man stood next to Katarina. He reared back, laying a hard blow to the bound man's middle that sent him swinging.
"That him?" Liz called out, moving towards the scene without hesitation. "What's he given you?"
"Nothing," Katarina answered., drawing the word out. "Yet." She motioned and the man to her side punched him again, swinging him around this time.
Liz turned to look at the face of her mother's enemy, but the bloodied face that greeted her was the last one she ever expected to see and she felt the floor shift dangerously beneath her, his name riding out on a breath. "Tom."
TBC
Notes: I'm really excited to get to this chapter. The Red and Cooper scene took forever to write. While all the characters have unique voices, those two speak in layers fitting intelligence officers. It was a tough scene, but a lot of fun, and one of those that's going to set the path forward on the big bad of the story.
Oh, and Liz knows that Tom's alive. Who's excited? :D
Next Time: Jacob struggles to wrap his mind around what he learns about Elizabeth Keen and Ressler gets pulled into a glitter party by Agnes.
