*My* Reddington?
Disclaimer: The Blacklist is not mine. None of these characters are mine. Not even the general storyline... and a lot of the actual DIALOGUE in this one isn't even mine. This is the heftiest disclaimer that ever disclaimed.
Author's Note: This one got away from me. It's pretty long. But this episode was so heavy with backstory and mythology and INTRIGUE! :D
…:::…
Chapter 8: Gina Zanetakos
...:::...
Previously...
"There's a photograph… I think Tom was the shooter at a hotel in Boston last year," Liz said quietly, joining Reddington on the sofa, a large pile of papers and books between them.
Reddington looked up sharply at Liz. "What hotel?"
"The Angel Station…" A look of recognition passed over his face, and Liz was quick to catch it. "Red… what else do you know about my husband?" she implored.
…:::…
When Liz finally made it home, she found Tom sitting at the dining table, the open box in front of him. The gun, passports, and piles of cash were organized next to it. Liz stopped short when she rounded the corner and saw him, but quickly pushed forward again, dropping her keys loudly on an end table.
Tom had heard her come in the front door, and when her keys clattered on the wood surface, he finally turned to look at her, his eyes haunted and betrayed, and more than a little angry. "You wanna tell me what this is?" he asked, his voice low.
"Something of yours I found while I was cleaning up your blood. Something I was hoping you could explain to me," Liz replied evenly.
"Liz, that was weeks ago. If you want me to believe you didn't put this in our floor, then you're telling me you've known about this, and haven't told me? Haven't asked me about it? I mean, what did you think, that—that—" Tom stuttered, reaching forward to pick up a stack of money. "—that I just squirreled away all this money—there's a fortune here, Liz—and passports, and a gun? A gun, Liz? Why would I have this?"
"Is this you?" Liz asked evenly, picking up a passport and holding it up, a photo of Tom, without glasses, next to the name Anton Pierre Louis.
"What, are you interrogating me now?" he asked, his voice dropping.
"And this," Liz said, setting down the passport and pulling a picture of Tom leaving the Angel Station Hotel from the file in her bag. "Is this you, too? This is a picture of you at the Angel Station Hotel in Boston."
"Yeah, so what?" Tom asked, his voice calm.
"There was a murder there that matches this gun, an agent named Victor Fokin, a Russian agent who was in the process of defecting when he was killed before he could say anything," Liz said in a rush, trying to control her anger.
Tom had an answer for everything, and if he was lying, he was a very good liar. Liz knew she was good at her job; she was good at interrogations and interviews, she was good at spotting tells and half-truths. As she and Tom fought, she couldn't spot anything in his facial expression that gave him away. If her husband wasn't who she thought he was… he was an incredible undercover operative. She mentally snarled at the small part of her brain that was momentarily impressed.
"Okay," Tom said finally. "Okay, if you think I'm guilty, then why don't you do something about it? Call the FBI. Do it. Go ahead." Tom picked up the phone and handed it to Liz challengingly. "You think I'm kidding?"
Liz weighed her options, the phone heavy in her hand. If she did nothing, and Tom was just her husband, a normal guy, with a normal past, and a normal job, then she'd always wonder. She needed proof. If he was who he said he was, then the FBI going over his life with a fine tooth comb would be able to set her mind at ease. If he wasn't… she had to turn him over to her team.
If he was anything more interesting than an elementary school teacher, that meant he was in her life because of her job, and most likely because of her connection to Reddington.
She dialed the number of the switchboard quickly, and gave her identification code.
…:::…
Tom looked appropriately taken aback when the agent put the black bag over his head, and similarly off-balance when it was removed once they'd arrived in the parking garage at the black site.
Liz fell into step next to him as they got on the elevator. She steadfastly refused to answer his whispered questions.
When they arrived on the main floor of the Post Office, Liz split from Tom's side, walking toward Cooper without having to be asked. As Meera extended a hand to guide Tom away from Liz, he looked at her imploringly, calling quickly, "Wait—"
"Just tell the truth, Tom," Liz said, interrupting him with an unreadable expression on her face.
Liz turned back to Cooper and followed him into his office. She sat across from him and waited patiently.
"When this all started," Cooper began, "when Reddington turned himself in and you asked to work with him, I was somewhat skeptical. Suspicious. You've built your career and usefulness here on being the foremost authority on Raymond Reddington, but I don't know why. There are other criminals you could have concentrated on, or at least spread your focus. But you've always been very single-minded."
"I've worked on any case ever assigned to me, and if I may say so, sir, I've done a very good job—"
"You have. I'm not disputing that," Cooper allowed. "You've done good work." He sighed. "But now this. Your white whale waltzes in one day and turns himself in, allowing you access to him. And then you call us with suspicions about your husband…? I need you to help me understand what's going on here."
"The gun, the money, and passports were in my house. A hatch in the floor. The gun was used in an unsolved homicide; I pulled the ballistics report," Liz explained.
"I know. Agent Ressler and I have been quietly watching your actions since you and Reddington started working together," Cooper revealed. Liz swallowed. She thought she'd covered her tracks better than that.
"Tom is my husband," she said, leaning forward. "But I brought him here, to you, for help, for answers. If we can—"
"You're not going to do anything," Cooper interrupted. "Until this matter is resolved, I'm putting you on leave."
'No,' thought Liz frantically. If she was denied access, she'd never find out what Tom was hiding—they'd seal things up, classify it, and most definitely block her from working with Reddington. Her gut twisted as she thought of never seeing him again. "But sir—"
"Agent Keen… go home."
On her way out the door, she slipped her cell phone from her pocket and dialed. "Hi, I need to meet with you. I have a favor to ask."
…:::…
The fact that Reddington had agreed so readily to meet her made her feel slightly better. They sat, facing opposite directions on a park bench near the White House. Red tried to begin the conversation with politics and cynicism, but Liz interrupted him. "I'm here to talk about Tom."
"You're here because you need me to walk in to Cooper's office and request to work with you again."
Liz looked down at her hands. "I need to have access. I need to know what happens to Tom. I need to know if he's…" She shook her head. "If he's working for someone, if a third party is responsible for inserting him into my life, I need to know." Barely turning her head, she cut her eyes sideways at Reddington. "And I want to know what you know."
"People think it matter who occupies that house," Reddington said, inclining his head slightly toward 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. "It doesn't. Multinational corporations and criminals run the world. You've obviously heard of corporate espionage, companies trying to beat each other to be the first hand on the dollar. But what if it were taken a few steps further?" Reddington posited, not acknowledging Liz.
"Red—"
He continued as if he hadn't heard her. "There are certain deliberate and malevolent actions taken by corporations to protect their vital interests. And one of the often-used instruments in recent years is a corporate terrorist named Gina Zanetakos."
"What does this have to do with me?" Liz asked impatiently.
"If you want to find out the truth about your husband, you need to find Gina."
"What?" she asked, surprised. "Why? Does she know Tom?" Liz pushed.
"Because she's Tom's lover."
Liz stayed silent, digesting the information for a moment. "Why are you helping me?" she asked in a low voice.
"Hasn't anyone ever told you not to look a gift horse in the mouth, Agent Keen?" Red tilted his head to one side, raising an eyebrow.
"You want something in return. I know you do. I'd like to know what that is," Liz lifted her chin defiantly.
Reddington pursed his lips. "You want to know what I know. I want to know what you know. For the time being, I think we both want to continue working together. Am I right?" Reddington took Liz's silence as a yes. "Good," he said, nodding.
…:::…
Reddington left the park and went directly to the black site. Standing in Cooper's office, he shook his head and rolled his eyes, playing up his displeasure at this inconvenience. "I fail to see how suspicions about her husband affect our arrangement."
"Agent Ressler is perfectly capable of—"
"Agent Ressler is perfectly capable of nothing when it comes to me, Harold; I thought I made myself clear that I want nothing to do with him. Bring back Agent Keen. I'll speak to her." Reddington played with the brim of his hat, and moved toward one of the vacant chairs in the room.
"Agent Keen is on leave."
Reddington sat, crossing his legs nonchalantly. "Well, then, lives will be lost." He went on to paint a dire picture of potential acts of terrorism on US soil, and offered to deliver the person who would be responsible.
"You turned yourself in, Reddington. You were the one who proposed our little arrangement. Delivering criminals to me is your job."
"My job is my business, Harold," he replied, his voice deep, and a secretive smile playing across his mouth. "Delivering criminals to you is a hobby, a diversion. One that may become tiresome… especially if you refuse to bring back Agent Keen." With that, he stood and left the office without a backward glance.
…:::…
Meera had questioned Tom for hours by the time she finally gave him a break, excusing herself to report in with Cooper. "He claims to have been there on a job interview, gave me the name of the school and his contact, the headmaster. Mentioned several other details, things we can verify. He's been quick to volunteer information."
"Okay, Cooper said, turning to Ressler. "And where are we on the contents of the box?"
"Still working on the passports and money. Ballistics did confirm that it was the gun used to kill Victor Fokin. There was also a partial on one of the casing in the magazine. No hits on it through AFIS."
"Give me updates as soon as you have them." Cooper stopped walking, and the two other agents slowed to a stop beside him. "In the meantime, Reddington's brought us a case."
Ressler nodded, his hands on his hips. "About time he realizes he has to talk directly to us."
Cooper glanced at Ressler. "You're the one who called Keen in on this."
"Yeah, but look at the mess she's made of things so far. Her husband is being investigated for murder right now—surely you don't—"
"He's requested her again," Cooper interrupted with a finality in his tone that made it clear the discussion was over.
…:::…
Liz had breathed an audible sigh of relief when she hung up the phone after Cooper had called her back in. She'd driven directly back to work, and launched into a quick history lesson on Gina Zanetakos for the team. She explained that nearly a year ago she'd reached out to Reddington, hoping he could broker a deal to assassinate a Supreme Court judge who was the swing vote on a case that could have cost her corporate clients billions.
She didn't need to remind everyone in the room that no Supreme Court justice had died in the last twelve months. She didn't have the details about why he'd turned down the job, but she was privately pleased. That wasn't something she could imagine him being involved in. Despite his more recent track record for violence, she guessed the job offer last year had been what earned Gina a spot on Reddington's blacklist.
…:::…
Liz had called Reddington immediately when Ressler made the connection to a dirty bomb based on Aram's findings from Gina's cell phone.
"Hey—you can't just run off to this guy every time we get a lead!" Ressler shouted after her as Liz made her way toward the elevator. "We need to work on this here!"
"You work on it here, Ressler, I'll work on it with him. I'll call you with any additional information," Liz said as the elevator doors slid closed.
She met with Reddington in a park, strolling comfortably beside him as she explained their theory that the dirty bomb was scheduled to be detonated at four in the afternoon somewhere in the central time zone of the US.
"Have you found the connection to your husband?" Reddington asked nonchalantly.
Liz sighed. "We looked through all of Zanetakos' phone messages, all her records. There wasn't a single message from Tom." She stopped walking, and he passed, turning to face her. "I know I said I'd always believe you… but… are you sure there's something between them?"
"Has he been giving satisfactory answers to Agent Malik's questions so far?"
Liz licked her lips and shifted her weight. "No. He says he was at the hotel in Boston meeting with the headmaster of a private school." She looked up and met Reddington's eyes. "The headmaster denies the meeting, has never heard the name 'Tom Keen', and Tom didn't recognize a picture of the man when it was put in front of him."
Reddington nodded. "So you still think he was involved in the murder at that hotel?"
"I actually found something else," Liz admitted, looking away across the park. "The picture of Tom… leaving the Angel Station Hotel." Liz bit her lip. "I think Zanetakos is in the picture, too."
Reddington tilted his head, interested, and waited for Liz to continue.
"Different hair, dark glasses, but I think it's her." She paused, and then went on hurriedly, "I mean, she's not looking at Tom, he's not looking at her, they're walking in opposite directions, but…"
"That puts them together."
"Or that gives us a different suspect for the murder. A known terrorist and assassin," Liz was quick to point out.
"If that's the case, and Gina Zanetakos was the one to kill the Russian defector, why was your husband there? You know he didn't have a real interview. And how did the weapon used in the crime end up under your floor boards? Why would someone be framing your husband, Agent Keen?" Reddington took a step closer to Liz, dropping his voice as he looked down into her eyes, searching. "What's so special about you, hmm?"
Liz stood her ground for as long as she could, but she blinked first, taking a breath and stepping back from Reddington. He'd made a habit of invading her personal space on a handful of occasions prior to this, but this time was… deliberate. And overt.
Almost like he was trying to distract her from something.
"I'll call you with anything else," she mumbled.
…:::…
That call happened sooner than either of them expected.
"Meet me back at the park?" she asked, her voice small.
They sat this time, rather than walking. He'd gotten to the park first, and she found him sitting alone at the gazebo he'd offered as their rendezvous point. She joined him, sitting next to him on the steps. She didn't try to hide the fact that she was sitting with him, the way they'd always done before, sitting at opposite ends of a bench, or seated facing opposite directions. She sat next to him, and leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, mimicking his position.
"We found a picture of Tom in her apartment." Liz found herself running through all the details, her voice even and unemotional. "And a box… passports, weapons, money. Same as the box from my house. It even had the same symbol carved on the lid. I think Tom and Gina work for the same people. And even though he says he doesn't know her… he clearly does."
Reddington stayed silent.
"There was a picture of the murdered FSB agent in the box, as well. I don't know which of them actually did it, but I think they were both there that day for the same job." Liz turned to look at Reddington. "Do you know who they work for?" she asked, a pleading note slipping into her voice, which she mentally cursed herself for being unable to control.
"I might," Reddington answered after a moment.
"Would you tell me?"
"Not yet."
Liz sighed in frustration. "So much is happening, and I just don't know how to—" She broke off, and rephrased. "It's not like I wouldn't be able to handle it if Tom turned out to be… I don't know; whatever we think he is right now. But… the questions, the not-knowing… I feel like I'm drowning, and I'd really appreciate it if you could just give me something—I know you don't know me, and you think you don't owe me anything, but—"
"Trust and honesty don't come easily in my profession, Agent Keen," he interrupted.
Liz watched his face for a long moment as he stared out across the grass in front of them. "You can trust me," she said finally, her voice steady.
…:::…
"Your husband may have been connected to our primary suspect," Cooper said angrily, pacing in his office. "If I let you into the field and you discover some incriminating information on him, I have no reason to believe you won't suppress it. But circumstances require your continued involvement."
Liz stood facing Cooper, Ressler a few feet behind her. "You found something else?"
"Money Zanetakos wired to a dummy corp in Berlin, linked to a man named Maxwell Ruddiger, a bomb expert operating out of Europe."
"And you need me because you need Red to find this guy," Liz said, turning her head to look from Cooper to Ressler and back. Ressler didn't meet her eyes. "He's still requesting me?"
"We've tried multiple times in the last hour. He picked up the first few calls we made to him, but wouldn't answer any questions. Just kept asking for you," Ressler grumbled.
"Now he isn't even picking up the phone," Cooper added.
Liz got the feeling that this was the 'something' she'd asked for. She'd meant her somewhat desperate request in the gazebo in terms of information; he'd responded with an action. He was willing to fight to maintain her involvement on the case. Apparently he'd keep her in position, but wanted to see if she could get the information on her own.
Liz grudgingly admitted to herself that this seemed fair.
…:::…
Dembe escorted her into a back room in Reddington's current safe house. He was shouting into his phone, pacing the length of the room. "No, Hakim, that is not the problem. Listen to me. Shipping is my business. Once I receive payment, the merchandise ships. That's the deal. According to my man in Houston, the payment's not there. It's been diverted to New Orleans, which is entirely unacceptable." He stopped pacing to look at Liz and nod in acknowledgment of her presence before continuing, "Well I don't care if the wedding is Saturday. All I care about is my payment. Hakim? This conversation is over."
Reddington snapped his phone shut and lobbed it at Dembe, who caught it easily, and smoothly placed it in a jacket pocket.
"Agent Keen…" Reddington walked toward her with a smile. She noticed his voice changed immediately from the harsh, commanding tone he'd been using on his business call. The way he greeted her was kind, and welcoming. "What can I do for you?"
Liz fidgeted. He was in her personal space again. "Maxwell Ruddiger. He's the bomb maker. He gets me to Zanetakos, she gets me to Tom. Can you help me find him?"
…:::…
By the time Reddington had tracked down Ruddiger and leaned on him for the information regarding Zanetakos' whereabouts, they had nineteen hours left.
By the time they'd grabbed Zanetakos, they had considerably less.
"What was that?" Liz bellowed at Ressler as the medevac team wheeled the bleeding woman out of the public restroom on a gurney. "You told me not to kill her when we finally got our hands on her—like a woman would be so blinded by jealousy that she'd forget we needed to talk to her—and then you're the one who shoots her! Twice!"
"She had one hand around your neck, Keen, and a knife in the other. Should I have let her kill you?"
"That woman is the link! She's the only one who knows where that bomb is!" Liz roared, advancing on Ressler, who gave Liz a strange look and backed up a few steps warily.
"She might also be the woman your husband is cheating on you with." Ressler narrowed his eyes. "And she's the only person who can exonerate him in the death of that Russian agent. You don't seem the least bit concerned about that part…?" he said suspiciously.
Liz lifted both hands, palms up, as if weighing options. She lifted her right hand, and said softly, "My husband might be a liar and a cheat, and yes, a murderer." She lifted her left hand. "A dirty bomb might go off somewhere on US soil," she said pointedly, her voice rising in volume again. "Which do you think I should prioritize right now?" she yelled, turning away and slamming a stall door loudly on her way towards the exit. "Quit trying to kill people we need to talk to, Ressler!" she shouted. Before she walked out through the door, she mumbled over her shoulder in an irritated voice, "This is just like Brussels all over again…" She turned to jab a finger at Ressler. "She better make it."
…:::…
After regrouping at the Post Office and running through what they knew regarding the bomb, Zanatako's employers, the Hanar Group, and their financials and corporate interests, Liz interrupted Cooper. "Wait, what did you just say? Say that again."
"The Hanar Group. Their shipping division is doing terribly, and within the year they might have to shut down the port they operate in New Orleans.
"Shipping in New Orleans," Liz repeated. "Hang on, I might have something… let me make a call—!"
She strode quickly from Cooper's office, dialing Reddington as she went. He picked up just as she rounded the corner into a blissfully deserted hallway. "New Orleans," she said instead of greeting him. "What do you know about it?"
Reddington's suggestive chuckle on the other end of the line didn't improve her stress levels. "Quite a lot," he murmured, his voice low. "What do you have in mind…?"
"You were on the phone, earlier, someone was getting married, and you said something about shipping and a port in New Orleans," she said hurriedly.
"Yes." Reddington's answer was short, hearing the urgency in her voice.
"You told the man on the phone your payment was diverted. Why?"
"It happens every once in awhile, but this was unprecedented. An associate of mine in New Orleans was advising illicit traffic in the Gulf to be rerouted to New Orleans."
Liz swallowed. "The Hanar Group hired Zanetakos. They're a majority owner of a port in New Orleans. Where was your payment diverted from?"
"Houston," Reddington volunteered immediately.
"That's the target! New Orleans and Houston are the two biggest ports in the Gulf. If Houston were to close because of radioactive contamination, all traffic would be diverted to New Orleans, the Hanar Group's profits would soar—they'd be the only game in the Gulf—thank you—!" Liz hung up the phone, already running back down the hallway toward Cooper's office.
…:::…
After the bomb was successfully located and contained, Liz was—with great protest from both agents—allowed to accompany Meera and Ressler to the hospital to question Zanetakos, who came out of surgery with expectations of making a full recovery. Liz hung back in the room, while Meera offered her a plea deal in exchange for information.
"Your prints were found on a nine-millimeter used to assassinate Victor Fokin in Boston last June," Meera said. "Did you kill him?"
Zanetakos' eyes flicked over Liz where she stood near the door before answering. "Yes."
"Why?" Meera prompted.
"He was a Russian agent defecting to the US. Somebody didn't want him spilling secrets."
"What secrets?" Ressler chimed in.
"Fokin had information about the route Chechen guerillas were using to move their supplies to their soldiers on the Russian border." As Zanetakos spoke, Liz felt her stomach drop. She knew Red had several deals with Chechen guerillas in recent years. "The guy who hired me was making millions providing those supplies," Zanetakos continued. "His name is Raymond Reddington."
Ressler and Meera both immediately turned to look at Liz. Desperate to direct the topic away from Reddington, Liz pushed forward past the other agents. "Do you know Tom Keen?" she asked quickly, pulling the photograph from her jacket pocket. "We found this picture of him in your apartment."
Zanetakos looked Liz up and down for a moment, as if she was sizing her up. 'Like a rival,' Liz thought bitterly.
"Never seen him before," Zanetakos replied, turning her head away and slipping down further in bed, signaling she was done answering questions.
…:::…
"We need to talk," Liz said, striding into the room and walking directly to Reddington. "Zanetakos confessed. She killed Fokin last year in Boston; her print was found on the gun. Tom's been released."
Reddington looked up from his chair. "You must be relieved," he said.
"Not remotely," Liz fired back immediately. "The box from my house? The passports? Forged. The money? Traced to an offshore account of yours." Liz stopped talking, allowing Reddington a chance to speak up. He didn't take it. "Now, this should mean one of two things. Either Tom is completely innocent, and you're trying to frame my husband, by planting all of that evidence under my floorboards for me to find. Or… you've hired both Tom and Gina Zanetakos before, and provided them with those boxes. You had her assassinate a Russian defector who could have caused trouble for your business with the Chechen rebels. A crime, incidentally, that you were surprised I thought Tom was responsible for when I told you my suspicions last week in your Baltimore safehouse."
Liz began to pace the length of the room.
"But why bother framing an innocent man if you were also going to send Zamani to kill him?" Reddington took a deep breath, as if to speak, but Liz held up a hand with an irritated glare. "I know you haven't admitted that, but I know it's true. I'm sure we'll end up discussing the entire thing sometime in the future, but for right now, let's put a pin in that one." Reddington raised an eyebrow and bobbed his head. Liz continued, "And you looked honestly shocked when I told you Zamani had come after Tom. I'm good at my job—I don't think you knew the details of the target you'd sent your man after that night. And you certainly didn't recognize me when I walked in to talk to you after you turned yourself in." Liz licked her lips, pausing in her pacing. "Did you?" she asked quietly, narrowing her eyes.
Reddington looked at her evenly, still silent. 'No,' she thought. 'He didn't. He still doesn't.'
She resumed her trek across the room. "So I don't know how likely it is that you're responsible for hiring Zanetakos in the past, and then framing a man you don't know with a gun she used in the job you'd hired her for, with some fabricated story about her being his lover, just to get under the skin of an FBI agent who you also don't know."
Liz gave a frustrated sigh, and sat down in a chair across from Reddington before she continued. "Or, option number two. You hired Tom, and inserted him into my life. But this raises all of the same questions. How could you have hired a man you don't know? I suppose, through an intermediary. But why me?"
Reddington gave her an unreadable smile. "Yes. Why you…"
"I also don't understand why you were willing to work with her, hire her for the Angel Station assassination, when she left such a bad taste in your mouth after the Supreme Court job offer you turned down? That's why you sent us after her, right? Not just because you're using the FBI to clean up your network of previous employees?" Liz found herself desperate for confirmation on any of her theories. She waited for a long moment before speaking up again. "This is the point where you talk," she said, a hard edge to her voice. She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, and looked at him earnestly. "Even if you'd hired both Tom and Gina, at separate times, why would she have his picture? Why would her print be on the gun in his box?" Liz shook her head and leaned back into the chair, realizing she would get nothing from Reddington tonight. He was playing things entirely too close to the vest these days. "You didn't know anything about Tom when you turned yourself in to the FBI. But I'm betting you've been doing some digging, ever since you found out who it was that Zamani ended up stabbing that night. And now you do know. You didn't know the name 'Tom Keen' two months ago, but suddenly this week you know who he's cheating on me with." Liz raised her eyebrows. "Red… what do you know about my husband?"
Red tilted his head to one side. "You don't believe he's innocent. Even though the FBI has cleared and released him."
"No," Liz answered.
"Have you told him that?"
"I haven't been home yet. I came here to talk to you first."
"But you plan on going home? On keeping up what is essentially a charade at this point?" Reddington's voice was curious.
Liz shrugged. "I still have questions. About him. About you. But you know what they say…" She gave a grim smile. "Keep your friends close…?"
…:::…
I know, this is really a bit more of a departure from canon!Liz, but I'm just going to run with it and see how far it'll take me. :)