If Jacob had to listen to one more minute of this seemingly unending lecture about how fish had souls, he was going to leave his car, cross the street, enter the restaurant, and kill Liz's date. Each time he had to sit through these tedious mating rituals it seemed to become worse. Her dates ran the gamut from patronizing to obnoxious. Above all they were incredibly boring. The veterinarian who currently was prattling on, apparently obvious to the the fact that Liz was inches away from stabbing herself in the eye with a fork, may have been the worst one yet.
He understood Liz's objective, as he did most everything about her these days. After Ronnie, she was trying desperately to secure a normal, healthy relationship, with a nice, ordinary guy. The trouble was that she wasn't really attracted to any of them. In the two years that she'd been sticking to this routine none of the men had lasted beyond the third date. Judging by her past dating history Liz was drawn to social outliers, generally with a hint of "bad boy" about them. It seemed that she thought that she could somehow teach herself to enjoy a more bland brand of man. Unfortunately for Liz, changing one's sexual instincts wasn't that simple. Desire was in the blood, not the brain, as Jacob knew only to well.
Watching Liz's futile search was frustrating for him as well. More and more he'd been imagining what he would say if it had been him sitting across from her. He'd know the questions to ask to make her open up to him. He'd know how to read her every expression, how to tell when she'd had a bad day, and what to say to make her feel better. He'd know how to take care of her. He'd know how to make her love him.
No, that was a dangerous thought he couldn't afford to have, especially now. The Major had informed Jacob that his time watching Elizabeth Scott was nearing its end. Bill and Reddington had apparently come to the joint decision that it would be better to replace Tom with a new operative. Reddington had claimed he wanted "fresh eyes" and Bill was anxious to get him back into deep cover.
It was probably for the best. Two years ago Jacob had hoped time would change the way he felt about Elizabeth Scott and it had. What had been just a sense of protectiveness, affection, and lust had become borderline obsession. Focusing on her flaws didn't help. The parts of her that were damaged and broken were in some ways even more fascinating to him than the parts that were whole.
Sleeping around hadn't helped either. Bill had even sent Gina to relieve him for a weekend, and originally Jacob had been pleased. He'd hoped a few days rolling around in the sheets with the closest thing he'd ever had to a real girlfriend would take the edge off his Liz cravings. It had not. Gina had not been pleased when the named he'd called out when they were in bed together had been "Liz".
His thoughts were consumed with her: what she was thinking, and what she was feeling. When he watched her sitting alone in her apartment, shoulders sagging after a brutal day, he found himself aching to hold her, to give some relief to the weight that she carried. On the rare occasion Liz brought a man back to her apartment Jacob found himself seething with jealousy. It wasn't smart or healthy for him to stay close to her. Still when he thought of never seeing her again he felt a pang of loss. Ridiculous though it may be, he would miss this woman that he had never formally even met.
Fish man and Liz were leaving the restaurant. The vet walked to the curb and raised a hand to hail a cab. Liz stood looking at her date for a moment, before turning and beginning to walk down the sidewalk in the direction of her apartment. The vet called after and Liz waved him off, saying she'd prefer to walk home. Jacob's reaction was mixed. On the one hand he could understand Liz's not wanting to be trapped in a cab with Dr. Doolittle, but on the other walking the streets of New York alone at night wasn't the safest decision.
After about thirty seconds of argument Liz's date gave up trying to change her mind. And they say chivalry was dead. Jacob decided to wait until Liz was a block away, and then follow on foot.
Jacob was just about to exit his vehicle when he saw a car door open four spaces ahead of him. A middle aged man with short dark grey hair and an athletic build emerged. The car had been sitting there since Jacob had arrived at the restaurant. Jacob watched as the stranger crossed the street and headed off in Liz's direction. Jacob's instincts shifted into high gear.
He jumped out of his own car and began the pursuit, staying a careful distance behind Liz's shadow. He kept his hand inside his jacket pocket, wrapped around his gun. If this man made one threatening move towards Liz it would be his last.
The man was moving at a brisk pace, faster than the speed Liz was going. At this rate the man would catch her before Liz reached her apartment. Jacob increased his own speed and started scanning the street for convenient alleys. He spotted one about a hundred feet ahead. Jacob moved swiftly and silently until he was right on top of the man. He cocked the gun and Liz's pursuer stopped dead in his tracks.
"Move and you're dead. Take your hands out of your pockets." The man did as he was told. "Into the alley. Don't turn around." Tom briefly looked past his hostage to catch a glimpse of Liz disappearing around the corner. Hopefully no more threats lurked between her and her destination.
"Look, just let me reach into my pocket for my wallet-" The man spun fast, but Jacob was ready. He ducked the blow and kicked Liz's would-be assailant back into the brick wall before aiming the gun between his eyes.
"There are two ways this goes: 1) You tell me what I what to know and I consider letting you walk or 2) You don't and I put a bullet in your head. Who do you work for?" The man spat at Jacob in typical "tough guy" fashion and Jacob responded by kicking him in the nuts. The man doubled over in pain, cursing at Jacob.
"Trust me when I say you want to talk to me and not my boss. He's not as gentle as I am." There was a chance this wasn't about Reddington, that this guy was just some street thug Liz had pissed off through her work with the FBI. Jacob willed the hitman to take the bait.
"You think I'm scared of Reddington?" The man snorted, then clenched his jaws. Jacob heard a cracking sound and within seconds the man started convulsing and forming at the mouth. He was dead in less than thirty second. Suicide pills. Jacob couldn't believe people still carried those things in their teeth. Jacob briefly wondered if the man had been KGB once upon a time.
Jacob quickly went through the man's pockets and found keys, a wallet, a hotel key card, a knife, and a burner phone. He took out his own his phone and snapped a picture of the man's face. With some difficulty Jacob hauled the body to the dumpster and pushed it inside. Nothing compromised physical evidence quite like trash and it was as good a spot as any to store the corpse.
After taking pictures of the license plate of the assassin's vehicle, Jacob got in his own car and left for his apartment building. He was more than aware that all of his efforts to get an ID on the man were probably in vain. The cyanide pill suggested he'd been an old world spook and whoever employed him was so intimidating that the man had chosen death over betraying his boss. Jacob felt an unfamiliar sensation in the pit of his stomach and it took him a second to identify it as fear. He suddenly felt an overwhelming need to lay eyes on Liz.
She was already asleep by the time Jacob was back in his apartment. He took a moment to stare at her still form, so peaceful and calm, so unaware how close to death she'd come that night. Why was this happening? Who was she to Reddington? And how the hell had she been found?
Tom deposited the dead man's possessions on his kitchen table and picked up his own burner phone.
"I need to speak to Reddington." Jacob was aware his tone was sharper than it should have been, but at that moment he didn't care. He was gradually becoming aware of a growing anger in his chest, which seemed to be largely directed at his boss.
"Mr. Reddington is in the middle of-" Jacob cut Dembe off mid-sentence.
"I don't care what he's in the middle of. Put him on!" The Concierge of Crime had somehow jeopardized Liz's safety for reasons Jacob was convinced were a complete mystery to her. The least he could do was put his criminal empire building on hold for a moment and take Jacob's phone call.
"Sweetheart, not the best time." Dembe was right apparently, Reddington was with company he didn't trust. Although that probably covered 99.9% of the world's population.
"Someone tried to assassinate Liz tonight." There was a pause on the other end of the line. Jacob was pleased his words were having some kind of an impact.
"I'm so sorry to hear that, but I trust you managed just fine without me?" Although it was a statement, Jacob recognized the question in his voice.
"The hitman's dead, and I stashed his body in a dumpster. She's sleeping in her apartment. She didn't see anything. He seems to have been working alone." Liz was secure, for now. The threat was imminent, but not immediate.
"Wonderful. I have a few things to care of then I promise I'll be right over. See you soon."
Within five seconds of hanging up on Reddington, the burner phone Jacob had stolen from the assassin started to ring. After a split second's hesitation he accepted the call, hopeful he might be able to gather some kind of information on the identity of the hitman's employer.
"Verification code." So much for learning anything of value. The woman repeated herself once before ending the call. Whoever Reddington's enemy was, they were cautious.
Jacob turned his attention back toward his screen. What would tomorrow hold for Elizabeth Scott? She'd been found, and targeted by enemies of Raymond Reddington. The safest course would be to send her into hiding with her adopted father. The fact Liz didn't really have close friends worked in her favor. She could start over with a new life, a new identity.
Of course she'd have to leave behind her career, everything she'd worked so hard to achieve. Despite the debacle with Ronnie Liz had still managed to graduate at the top of her class and even though she wasn't widely liked by her colleagues in the FBI mobile psych unit, she was respected. Reddington had cost her everything she'd fought so hard to earn.
How would she take losing all of that? Would she rage against the injustice of it all? Would she accept her fate with stoic calm? Would Reddington deliver the news himself or through an intermediary? Would he make Dembe do it? Would he make Jacob do it?
The burner phone was ringing again. The person on the other end of the line must have reported that someone without the bona fides had answered the call. Did that mean they were calling him? To what end? Jacob put the phone to his ear. A slightly accented voice greeted him.
"I assume I'm speaking to the operative who killed my agent?" He had was a Russian accent, Jacob was certain. He needed to keep the man talking and hopefully learn something useful.
"You assume correctly. I hope you're not calling for an apology." It would be a cold day in Hell before Jacob apologized for protecting Liz.
"Not at all. I'm calling to offer you a job." That was...unexpected.
"I already have a job." Did this guy really expect a bodyguard employed by Reddington to turn assassin? This man, whoever he was must think Jacob was a complete idiot.
"Yes, I understand you're Reddington's babysitter for Elizabeth Scott. Seems like a waste for a man of your talents. I have a job that's much more suited to your skill set." Jacob's blood ran cold. This man was speaking as though he knew, if not who, then what Jacob was. How could he possibly know that?
"Thanks, but my current boss has a nasty reputation when it comes to people who cross him." Jacob's mind raced frantically over the possibilities. Could Bill have sold him out? Or was this man just bluffing.
"I too, have that reputation. But to business, I'd be willing to double what Reddington is paying you. That's 10 million per annum." Per annum? That implied that whatever this man had in mind was long term. He'd said the job was more in line with Jacob's skill set...
"What's the job?" Jacob was beginning to see where this was leading, but he needed to actually hear the words.
"I want you to infiltrate the life of Elizabeth Scott and determine her value to Reddington." What was that saying, "Be careful what you wish for"? Less than a hour ago Jacob had been fantasizing about what it would be like to date Elizabeth Scott and now he was being offered a sizable paycheck to do just that.
"Call me back on this phone in an hour. You'll have your answer then." Jacob hung up before waiting for a response. As bad as he'd thought things had been ten minutes ago, the reality was much worse. Not only did Reddington's enemies know about Liz, but they'd also known about him. What was the assassination attempt then? A test? Of him? Of the intelligence that Liz and Reddington were connected? And how did they know who he was and how much he was being paid?
Jacob punched in Bill's emergency contact number.
"Line secure. This better be important." Bill sounded aggravated, but that was nothing compared to the way Jacob was feeling at the moment.
"Have we suddenly gotten into the business of screwing over our clients?" There was a pause on the other end of line.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Bill sounded genuinely confused, but Jacob knew all too well how easy that was to fake.
"I'm talking about the fact you making a big deal of how important a client Reddington was and then handing privileged information over to his competitors." Jacob couldn't believe Bill would jeopardize his reputation in this manner, but who else had access to the facts so casually mentioned during the phone call.
"First of all, watch your tone. You're forgetting who you're talking to. Second, I have no idea what you're talking about. Selling out clients is bad business pure and simple. Tell me what happened." Jacob relayed the night's events as quickly as possible.
"He knew what I am, he knew how much I was being paid, he knew about Liz and Reddington-" Bill cut him off mid-sentence.
"Is that why you're in such a lather, because of the girl? Was Reddington right about you?" Jacob froze, conscious of the slip he'd made. He was getting too emotional about this and Reddington had apparently voiced his suspicions to Jacob's handler.
"I am "in a lather" because I am compromised and our very important client is on his way here and is expecting some kind of an explanation." That was as good a cover story as any. Any operative in his position would be upset. Bill was silent for so long, Jacob almost wondered if the call had disconnected.
"Don't tell him about the job offer, just tell him about the assassination attempt. With any luck he'll relocate the girl and she won't be our problem any more." Jacob nodded, in agreement, forgetting for the moment that Bill couldn't actually see him. Of course that didn't exactly solve his problem dealing with Reddington's enemy.
"And the other job offer?"
"You said he knew what you were, but he didn't have your name did he?" Jacob though back and realized that the man with the Russian accent had used neither his alias nor his real name.
"No." Perhaps things weren't as catastrophic as he'd feared.
"Then the exposure's minimal. Politely decline and as soon as you wrap things up with Reddington, get on a plane to London. Mr. Pitts will have something new waiting for you."
Jacob hung up. The plan made sense. If there was one thing Bill could do well it was play a bad hand to perfection. Still Jacob remained troubled. Bill must have been telling the truth about not revealing the details of the contract to Reddington's enemy, otherwise he would have told Jacob to take the job offer, so how had the Russian known how much he was being paid?
There were only three people in the world with that information: Reddington, Bill, and Jacob. Reddington was incredibly cautious so it was unlikely the leak came from him, and if Bill hadn't said anything...the truth suddenly hit Jacob like a subway car. There WAS one other person with all the information about his current job: Gina. She knew who he was watching and for whom, she knew how much he was making, and she had been angry with him. He'd been so stupid. He had never considered the possibility that Gina would violate Bill's code to get back at him. It was...unprofessional. Speaking of...
Jacob swung his eyes back to the woman he'd been paid to protect. She was one of the the very few people in the world he'd genuinely cared about, and through his weakness he had put her in danger. He'd been so angry at Reddington on her behalf, and the truth was the calamity that was about befall her was his fault. Yet another unfamiliar sensation swept over him. Guilt. It must be guilt.
What could he do about it? Stick to Bill's plan, move on to the next job, and hope Reddington would protect her? Or was there another choice? A way he could atone for his failure?
Jacob reached out, gently touched the image of Elizabeth Scott, and spoke to her as though he were there in the room with her., "Lizzie...I am so sorry."