Jacob stared at the flashing police lights and resisted the urge to pound his steering wheel. The ambulance had long since departed, as empty as it had been when it arrived. There had been nothing the EMTs could do for the family in apartment 2C. Gunshots wounds to the chest weren't as easy to survive as certain television shows would have you believe.
Jacob hadn't seen the bodies, but the year before Raymond had gifted him with a handheld gaming console that doubled as a police scanner. Reddington claimed he thought Jacob would appreciate the camouflage. Jacob suspected the truth was that his adoptive father had never really lost the urge to give him a "real" childhood. He had played a few of the games, just to humor Reddington. It wasn't unpleasant, but ultimately it had felt...pointless. A waste of his time. Not unlike his work this evening.
He'd gotten the waiter's address out of the restaurant manager, but not quickly enough. The boy and his family were dead at least a half hour before Jacob parked in front of the building. The father. The eight-year-old sister. And the stupid kid himself, who led a killer straight to his home.
Dembe would tell him that he was being unfair, that a teenager was yet a child. That his mistake was not of malice and that he'd paid for it dearly. On some level Jacob knew that. But if he couldn't blame the kid, then he'd have to blame himself. For not being faster. For not catching the assassin sooner.
Jacob needed to focus. He couldn't do anything about the family, but he could damn well catch the son of bitch who was willing to murder an eight-year old girl to cover his tracks.
Jacob pulled out his phone and called Dembe. His brother picked up on the second ring.
"Did you find the boy?"
"Dead."
"I'm sorry." The corner of Jacob's lips pulled up a little at that. Dembe's first instinct was always to offer condolence, rather than judgement. Even when Jacob knew himself to be at fault, he could always trust in his brother to never deliver recrimination.
"Is Korpal out of surgery?"
"Yes. I'm outside his room." That at least was something. With Dembe there the assassin had no hope of slipping in unnoticed. Unless of course there was something Jacob hadn't thought of. It was an uncomfortable position to be in, not understanding his opponent. Perhaps Dembe could help with that.
"I don't get this guy. Clearly he's a professional. This was premeditated. He must have scouted the kid before picking him, otherwise he never could have found him so fast. But why a hit and run? It's inefficient. There's no guarantee of a result. He must have known there was a good chance he'd have to finish the job, and in a hospital no less. Why risk it?"
Reddington always said the why was always the most important question, because if you understood that, then everything else could be predicted. Undoubtedly this explained the difficulty law enforcement had always had with Raymond himself. No one fully understood his why, not even Dembe and Jacob.
"Raymond would tell you to start with what you know and what you can infer. Assume the man who broke into Scott's apartment and the assassin are one and the same." A fair assumption, given that coincidence didn't exist.
"He went for her computer, not Korpal's. Looked through her stuff. It was all irrelevant personal shit. I checked. Nothing important." If the killer had hoped for blackmail information he certainly hadn't gotten it.
"Was there an impetus for his departure? Sirens, anything that would make him fear discovery?"
Jacob thought back to the surveillance video. The man had been methodical, every move efficient, but not hurried. No variation in speed. No reaction to external stimuli.
"No."
"Then we can assume he got what he came for. Perhaps the personal information wasn't irrelevant." Jacob closed his eyes and tried to accept this theory.
Why would a professional assassin be interested in Liz's personal information? What would be the point in knowing the music she listened to and that she wanted to adopt a dog? Following her would teach him enough about her schedule to plan a hit or an abduction. And after all that he went after Nik...her boyfriend...Suddenly the answer clicked his mind like the cocking of a revolver.
"She is the target, but not to kill, at least not yet. He's planning on getting close to her. Infiltrating her life. That's why he needs to get rid of Korpal." He needed to get to Liz. Now. Jacob pressed the speaker button on his cell and tossed it on the seat next to him. Dembe's voice issued from the device as he pulled into traffic.
"Why not befriend her?" Jacob glared at the red light currently impeding his path to the hospital.
"Liz doesn't really have friends. At least not close ones. Besides, romantic partners have more access." His hands tightened on the steering wheel. It was surprising how enraged the thought made him. It wasn't like he'd never seduced someone for information before. But this was different. This was a violation, and not one intended to protect Liz like the cameras in her apartment.
"That doesn't explain the hit and run." Jacob paused, considering that. There were easier ways to kill someone, even ones that looked like accidents if you didn't want to draw attention. But maybe the killer did want to draw attention. Not to Nik's death, but to where he'd been when he died.
"Maybe it does. He was hit coming out of a date with another woman. Maybe this wasn't just about killing him. Maybe it was about exposing him. It would certainly speed along the grieving process if the boyfriend was cheating." Losing a faithful partner would undoubtedly make Liz reluctant to quickly form a romantic liaison with someone else. There would be too much guilt.
"Still to woo a woman grieving her partner, unfaithful or not..." Perhaps Dembe was correct. Even if Nik had been cheating, it would still be a challenge to get Liz to open up to someone new. Unless the grief was the way in. A shared loss.
"I've got to go." Jacob kept one hand on the wheel while his other dialed Hartwell. The phone rang three times before she picked up.
"Give me a second, Aunt Susan. I'm in the waiting room." Liz must have been within earshot. He struggled to contain his patience while the operative found a more private location. "What is it?"
"Who are Nik Korpal's friends?" A pause. On the other end of line, no doubt trying to determine Jacob's motivation for the question.
"I don't know the entire list off the top of my head. I told you he's popular." Of course he was. Jacob would need to narrow it down.
"I'm looking for someone male, young, good-looking. Probably not a doctor, that'd be hard to fake. Someone he met less than three months ago." Another pause on the other end of the line. Was Hartwell deliberately torturing him by drawing out the suspense?
"Brian Young. Information specialist at the hospital. Mid-Thirties. Handsome. And just walked in with tea for the primary." Tea. Not coffee. Jacob was willing to bet his favorite mustang it that tea was flavored with 2% milk. They had him.
"Text a description to Dembe."
Fifteen minutes later Jacob was just pulling his car into a parking space when his phone rang. He accepted the call and was rewarded with the sound of his brother's voice.
"Are you close?" Dembe sounded more tense than was his general custom. Something was wrong.
"I just parked. Why?"
"It seems you were correct. I saw the man Hartwell described entering Korpal's room. I followed. He had a syringe. I intervened." Jacob closed his eyes. He had hoped to catch the operative off guard, maybe utilize Dembe's current attire to trick him into going off with them to answer some questions...He hadn't quite worked out the logistics yet, but even the framework of that plan had to be scrapped.
"Did anyone see you enter?"
"No. The nurse was away from his station." Which was probably why the operative made his move.
"Is the assassin dead?"
"Unconscious. I presume you wish to interrogate him." They hadn't lost their lead. That was something at least.
"You presume rightly."
"We must get him out of this room. There is a window and roof a roof a few stories down." Jacob rolled his eyes. Hoisting an unconscious man out of a hospital window with no equipment and no prep time. What did Dembe think, he traveled around with climbing equipment in his car?
Jacob rubbed his eyes. What they needed was to get a body out of a hospital room without drawing attention. Luckily bodies were taken out of hospital rooms by nurses all the time.
It was also the middle of the night, so staff was probably less alert than they would be in the middle of the day. In a hospital this size there were undoubtedly plenty of temp nurses working there. If he was able to secure some scrubs, a gurney, and a white sheet, he'd be good to go.
There was still the nurse's station to worry about. He might notice two men and a body being wheeled out of a co-worker's hospital room.
"You said the nurse was a man, right? Same guy that was there when you arrived?"
"Yes." Jacob mentally reviewed the sweep of the hallway he'd done when Hartwell had put on her little display at the vending machine. Yes, the nurse HAD been among her captive audience. The force was with him today.
"Good. I'll be there in ten minutes."
He hung up on his brother. He hoped he wouldn't have to go twelve rounds with Hartwell to get her cooperation. If she gave him shit he was perfectly willing to leverage her earlier slip-ups. Whatever it took to have the problem under control by his next check-in with Reddington.
Jacob wanted this situation resolved in the next 24 hours. He needed to be certain Liz was safe. He paused in the middle of entering Hartwell's number. NEEDED. Damnit.
He shook his head and finished dialing. Placing the device to his ear he imagined his life 48 hours from now on a plane headed a world away from pretty FBI profilers and the havoc that wrecked on his equilibrium. All he had to do was make it through tonight.
