"I can't help you." Jacob inhaled slowly through his nose, counting back from five in his mind. He would not let Carter rile him. It was what the tracker got off on, and Jacob would not give him the satisfaction of seeing him upset. A calm and measured tone, that's what he needed. A calm and measured tone.
"Glen, I don't have time to play games. You already kept me waiting for sixty-five minutes, even though I was first in line when you opened-" Carter interrupted him, raising his hand in the air as if to fend off Jacob's accusation.
"My supervisor was on the prowl, and you alway make a big stink about discretion-" Jacob raised his own voice to speak over Glen's rambling.
"And now you want to sit there and tell me you can't help me? Seriously, man?" Carter's hands dropped to his sides and his shoulders drooped. He looked smaller than usual, deflated even. The space inside the office, which usually crackled with the DMV employee's maniac energy, felt dead.
"Look, I'm sorry, but I'm just not going have the time for next few months. Maybe if you come back after the New Year's I'll be available." Jacob said nothing, simply sat and let silence fill the air. He could do this, he could outlast Carter. The man mouth ran on a motor. If Jacob didn't respond to his nonsense the contractor would crack, and they would be in business. Ten seconds passed. Twenty. Thirty. Forty. Fifty. Glen shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Phelps, I got to back to work."
When the man started typing on his computer, Jacob realised he was really and truly being dismissed. Oh no. Whatever was going on with Glen, there was no way Jacob was getting the brush-off. He felt his grip on his temper begin to slip.
"Sixty-five minutes, Glen. Over an hour! And let me tell me tell you something: I have stayed in prison cells that were more sanitary than that that waiting room! I probably picked up swine flu, because you didn't have the courtesy to-" So much for maintaining his calm, professional demeanor. Jacob supposed he should have known better than to even make the attempt. Glen Carter was one of the only people on the planet who could rile Raymond Reddington, and Jacob didn't have a tenth of his boss' patience.
"You know what, you're not the only person in the world with troubles! My life hasn't exactly been a bed of roses lately!" Despite himself Jacob paused at the tracker's outburst. This was probably just another one of Glen's yarns, but what if it wasn't? Bad shit happened all the time and it was possible that something was genuinely bothering Carter.
"What's wrong?" Glen's expression twisted and he busied himself shuffling the papers around on his desk.
"Forget it." Jacob momentarily closed his eyes and thought of Dembe. Serenity, wisdom, and compassion. He could do this.
"I apologize if I seemed abrupt. Please tell me what's troubling you." There that sounded like his brother, more or less. Jacob waited and after a few seconds Glen ceased his straightening and sunk back into his chair. A pained expression played across the tracker's face.
"It's my brother. He's in court mandated rehab. Mom's beside herself. She wants to transfer him to some private treatment center in Maryland. Tranquility woods. She keeps talking about taking out a second mortgage to pay for it, but I'm terrified she'll lose her house." Jacob tightened his hands around the arms of his chair so he wasn't tempted to wrap them around Carter's throat.
"Glen, you're an only child." How Carter had survived this long was a mystery to Jacob. He couldn't be the first person to interact with the pathological liar who had longed to put him out of their misery.
"No, I WAS an only child. Apparently Dad was watering quite a few of his neighbor's gardens back in the day, if you catch my drift, and Steve sprouted up. He found us a couple of months ago and Mom's got such a big heart. She just welcomed him into our family. She says we've got to stand by him even after he stole her good jewelry to pay for his habit. She's just a marshmallow, and it kills me to see her like this.
And on top of everything else, I can't help thinking, 'What if it's me next. They say addiction runs in families. The next time you come to see me, I might have a crack pipe under my desk-"Jacob stood, unable to withstand one more minute of listening to the tracker's drivel.
"Goodbye Glen." He got exactly two steps toward the door before Carter called him back.
"Wait. I suppose since you're already here, and I need the money to pay the pawnbroker who my brother sold the-" Jacob slammed the file down on Carter's desk so hard the man actually shut up. The man did have some sense of self-preservation after all. Who knew?
"I need everything and anything you can find on this man." Jacob flipped open the folder and tapped the photograph Hartwell had provided. "He was last seen yesterday at 9:53 am breaking into 601 Edgewood Street NE, Apt. 2C. Call me when you have something." He didn't wait for a response before turning and heading out the door.
Jacob nearly plowed through a woman with walker and a beleaguered middle-aged dad in his haste to escape the DMV. A few mumbled apologies later he was standing on the sidewalk, breathing what passed as fresh air in the city. It was amazing how one five minute conversation with Glen Carter could feel like it lasted a year.
As Jacob pulled out his phone, he promised himself that this was absolute last time he would use Glen as a contractor. No matter how good the man was, the psychological toll just wasn't worth it.
Reddington picked up on the second ring. "Yes?"
"I spoke to Glen." A bemused chuckled greeted Jacob's ears, causing him to scowl. Easy for Raymond to laugh when he wasn't the one who had to suffer through the experience.
"Was he as charming as ever?"
"Pretty much, but he's on it."
"Excellent. Hartwell's security protocols seemed adequate?" Jacob carefully considered the question before answering. The operative's cameras were still in place, and remained undiscovered even with the break-in. She'd provided detailed intelligence on what the man been up to. Jacob could objectively say he found no fault with the agent's work.
"She's knows what she's doing. Scott's as protected as she can be, under the circumstances."
"Under what circumstances?" Jacob sighed softly. He shouldn't have said anything. Reddington did not appreciate unsolicited armchair quarterbacking. He briefly considered trying to walk back the comment, but he knew Raymond well enough that he wouldn't just let it go.
"You demanded that Hartwell maintain a careful distance from Scott and she has. The trouble is we both know it's a hell of lot easier to protect someone if you're standing right next to them, rather watching them through a scope." If someone for example attempted to abduct, or assassinate Scott in the middle of the night, there was no guarantee Hartwell would be able to reach her in time. Without Reddington's restrictions in place, Hartwell could have positioned herself as Scott's neighbor, or maybe even roommate. A close friend would have a hell of a lot better access to her and in the protection game, proximity mattered.
"You're suggesting I should have hired someone to infiltrate Elizabeth's life on a more intimate level?" Jacob could hear the unmistakable disapproval in Raymond's tone. The international criminal's sense of honor showed up in the most unexpected and inconvenient places.
"I'm saying that she'd probably be physically safer if you had." Jacob's assessment was met with a silence, prompting him to end the non-debate with, "But she's your friend's kid, not mine. That's your call to make."
"How generous." Clearly it was time to change the subject.
"Did your contact come through with the Good Samaritan file?" Jacob knew Reddington had an informant he'd tapped in order to investigate the possibility that this whole affair was connect to Scott's work with FBI. It would make everyone's life easier if it was. Serial killers may frighten the public at large, but they didn't stand a chance against an operative like Hartwell or a career criminal like him. Unfortunately Jacob suspected the man they were after was something else entirely. It could be the paranoia that last couple of years had nurtured in him, but to him, this felt like the enemy they'd been unsuccessfully pursuing, the one Newton had dubbed "the Adversity'. Dear God, Jacob hoped he was wrong.
"The agent left it for you in box 2142, Bradford Bank. I've already had the key messengered to your hotel." Then that was Jacob's next stop. It was probably a dead end, but Reddington hadn't trained him to bank on his own assumptions. Besides it wasn't like he had anything else to do while he was waiting for Glen to provide him with a lead.
"What alias am I using to access the box?"
"Thomas Vincent Keen." Jacob rolled his eyes. He hated that identity. The name sounded so forthright, so earnest. Not to mention the ridiculous glasses Reddington had chosen for him for the passport photo. They'd been perfect in that they made him look completely non-threatening, but whenever he wore them, he always had the lingering fear he'd be forced to fight in them. Being punched in the face while wearing glasses was not fun, nor was continuing the fight half blind. He knew from experience.
"Unless you have something else you need me to take care of, I think I'm going to stick with Hartwell. Two sets of eyes might be better than one."
"I'm surprised to hear you volunteering to work with a partner. You generally insist on working alone." Jacob heard the amusement behind the faux confusion in Reddington's voice and smiled. Their moment of tension had passed.
"You paid top dollar to secure the Major's best asset. I'd be an idiot not to...take advantage of that." Reddington chuckled softly at Jacob's implication.
"I trust I don't need to remind you to remain focused on the task at hand?"
"No, you do not." It went without saying that any woman, no matter how beautiful or talented in the bedroom would ever come before Jacob's commitment to Reddington or his agenda.
"In that case, let me simply remind you that in nature the most stunning creatures are frequently the most lethal." That was rich, Reddington of all people warning him off seductive and dangerous women.
"Sounds like someone recently had an unfortunately rendezvous with Dechambou...Or was it Pratt this time?" Jacob could not deny that the man had game, but he couldn't help but notice that a sizable chunk of Raymond's affairs seemed to end with his lovers attempting to kill him. The kind of thing had to wear on a guy after a while.
"I'll expect an update the moment you have new intelligence." The lack of response, and subsequent termination of the call strongly suggested Jacob had been right on the money. When this business with Elizabeth Scott was resolved, he'd push for more details. Until then he had an intruder to find, and a gorgeous blonde to both entertain and assist him. Things were definitely looking up.
