August, 1998 - São Paulo
Rosalie didn't breathe easily until she was safely in the confines of the condo.
Kicking off her sandals, she scurried to the bar and poured herself a few fingers of her favoured gin. As the liquid passed her lips, Rosalie allowed the slow burn to calm her nerves. She looked back on her activities in the penthouse across the street with a measure of fear and obstinate pride.
She had stood toe to toe with a major player in the criminal underworld and lived to tell the tale. The Man in the Hat, this Concierge of Crime, presented an unprecedented danger. He didn't take pause or flinch in the slightest when she invaded his personal space and threatened his life. The only thing that seemed to put him on his heels was her telling him she was armed, and Rosalie had the distinct feeling he wasn't concerned about her having the weapon so much as where she could have possibly hidden it.
' Speaking of which… '
The woman reached between her legs and pulled the tab attached to her thigh. A black garter-style holster cascaded toward the ground with the small handgun in tow. Rosalie sighed her relief as she was freed from the straps around her leg. Placing the weapon on the coffee table, she turned to pour herself another drink, her mind still sprinting through the day's events.
' How the hell did he know my name? '
The thought was unnerving. If he knew her name, who's to say dozens of other criminals wouldn't make the same connection?
Curling up in one of the club chairs, she attempted to quiet her unease and mentally organize. The 24-hour gap between now and Reddington's intended arrival left her with two options. Rosalie could follow through with their deal, or she could fly out on the premise of getting the safe house prepared…then drop off the grid. She nixed that last thought almost immediately. Rosalie refused to go back on a business deal, it was a rude thing to do and would tarnish her reputation.
If the man was half as prominent as he indicated, working with him would provide Rosalie with the capital she needed to diversify. Unlike Reddington, the vast majority of Rosalie's business was in her safe house network. If anything went wrong in that area, her empire could be damaged beyond repair. She had been hoping to carve out a greater avenue in the safe passage and bug-out markets. These would create enough diversity in her portfolio to weather the occasional storm while still remaining comfortably in her bailiwick.
A coded knock on the condo's door drew her from her scheming. Rosalie's shoulders tensed as she pulled her firearm from its neglected holster and tip-toed to the door.
Peeking through the peep-hole, she saw a familiar man with short dark hair and green eyes. Rosalie opened the door slowly, giving the young man's bulky frame a quick once-over before letting him in.
His thin mouth twitched in silent indignation, as if to say, "… Really ?" before nudging his way through the door. The newcomer took in his surroundings before turning back to Rosalie, speaking in a lilting French accent.
"The plane is ready for your departure, I am to stay with you until you board."
The woman's brow furrowed, "Now, how on earth did he find me?"
"Brazil is the only country you have not been to in the last three weeks," the man said idly, "it was very easy to see where you were headed."
' Damn .' Rosalie cursed her need to stay in South America long enough to finish her business dealings. She had inadvertently broadcast her intended location by not back-tracking.
"The plane, Mademoiselle," he reminded her, "We must be going."
"Cedric, how many times must I tell you to call me by my name?"
The young man simply lifted his eyebrows imperiously. Rosalie had the distinct feeling he had been sent solely to annoy her. The woman huffed before moving about the condo, packing the few things she had removed from her luggage. "Is he on the plane?" she asked, bringing her bags back to the door.
" Non ," replied Cedric, taking her suitcase in hand, "He will call once you are airborne."
The woman strode quickly back into the condo's office and pulled a key from the door frame. Popping the key into a hidden lock on the bookshelves, she pushed and twisted. The shelf opened on a hinge, allowing her to reach into the compartment to grab a leather folio and another bug-out bag. After the afternoon's events, the condo was no longer a viable safe house. She would need to sell the place and acquire a new location in São Paulo. Rosalie stopped to dismantle one of the hallway vents, packing the last remnants of her hidden contraband in the bag.
Cedric had taken her suitcase down to the car, the coded knock signalling his return. He picked up the bug-out bag, slinging it over his shoulder before reaching for the leather folio.
Rosalie snatched it from his grasp and pulled it close to her chest, eyes narrowed peevishly. The folio contained the information pertaining to each of her safe houses, and she guarded the item quite viciously.
Cedric held up a placating hand, taking a step away from her. His tell-tale smirk belying his amusement at the exchange. He loved getting Rosalie's hackles raised. " Chat de 'la réve ." He teased, reaching out to rumple her hair.
Rosalie grimaced, swatting his hand away. "You're a pest" she grumbled, heading for the door.
Cedric couldn't contain his laughter as he followed her to the elevator. This was the summation of his and Rosalie's relationship. Hurling insults and occasionally shoving each other, which Rosalie was all too happy to do when they reached the lobby. Still grumbling, she nudged the large man who moved almost imperceptibly, still chuckling at her antics.
They bickered good-naturedly until they reached the front door, where they quickly and silently headed for Cedric's vehicle.
Across the street in the penthouse, Reddington's team was keeping a close eye on the young innkeeper. Dembe took the first watch, keeping close tabs on her as she moved around the condo. When the woman left her location with an unknown man in tow, Dembe quietly followed in Reddington's town car.
The pair made their way to a private airstrip outside of the city, where they hurriedly boarded a Gulfstream jet. The blue and white bird turned quickly on the tarmac before hurtling up into the afternoon sun, engines roaring.
Dembe grabbed the aircraft's tags, then stopped to bribe the destination and manifest off of air traffic control before returning to São Paulo.
Upon entering the penthouse, he found Raymond waiting for him. "So, where is the little minx headed?"
The young man held out the papers containing the flight path, manifest, and the jet's tags. "I spoke to air traffic control. They confirmed she is en route to Bulgaria as we speak."
Reddington's head tilted in surprise upon seeing the tags listed for the jet. "You're certain this is the plane that she boarded?"
Dembe's replied in the affirmative, "I watched her board the plane myself."
"Interesting," Reddington scrutinized the documents carefully. "What would an innkeeper in South America have to do with a French mobster?"
"The jet, it is Florian's is it not?" Dembe asked, "He wasn't with her, nor was he on the manifest."
Florian Gaspard Armel, the owner of the jet, was an old Corsican mob boss whom Red had done business with in the past. To Red's knowledge, Florian had never done business in South America. Why his jet would be there was a complete mystery.
In the spirit of transparency, and to somewhat assuage his own curiosity, Red decided to call him.
"Florian!" Red chimed jovially upon him picking up, "I hope I haven't caught you at a bad time?"
The old mobster's booming voice came roaring through the connection. "Not at all my lad, not at all. To what do I owe this call?"
Reddington paced the lounge, hesitating, as he realized he was essentially ratting the young woman out. "...I'm dealing with an innkeeper that I picked up in South America. She seems to be flying to Bulgaria in your jet."
Florian chuckled, "I know nothing about that, Raymond. I have no use for an… Did you say South America?"
Reddington smirked, knowing full well the old buffer was lying through his teeth. "Yes, Florian. Brazil to be precise. I thought you might be concerned as to the whereabouts of your Gulfstream."
" Merde ." The older man groused, perfectly unconcerned. "It looks like I will be making a trip to Bulgaria then, does it not?"
"Dembe can provide you with the necessary information. We will meet you there." Raymond handed the phone to the younger man, indicating he was going to go pack.
Heading for the master bedroom, Red took the few things he had unpacked and placed them neatly back into his suitcase. He was glad to hear the young innkeeper was already getting started on their agreement. However, her connection with Florian made him suspicious. The man wasn't the unsavoury type. Like Red, he had a deep-seated code of ethics when it came to being a criminal. There were certain lines Florian did not cross, and criminals who did cross those lines were never permitted to work with his people. Red could respect a man like that, perhaps that was why they continued doing business. And yet Red knew the man was lying when he asked about the woman on his plane.
If she had just purchased a ride on the jet, Florian would have said so outright.
If the pilot was shuttling passengers in the jet on the sly, Florian would have been absolutely furious.
The old mobster knew this woman, Red just didn't know how he knew her. Not yet, anyway. He assuaged his curiosity with the knowledge that the next day would provide the answers he sought.
A gentle knock sounded on the bedroom door. Dembe strode quietly into the room, returning the phone to his employer. "How long before we leave?" he asked tiredly.
Reddington gave him an understanding smile. "We could all use a little rest, we'll leave in the morning."
Aboard the Gulfstream, Rosalie sat curled up in her usual chair. Her small hand was wrapped around the satellite phone as she dialled the familiar number. She waited patiently while the phone rang on the other end, she had just pulled a crude face at Cedric when a deep, surly voice hit her ear.
"Ma fille!"
Rosalie grinned, hearing the smile in the man's voice. "Bon soir, mon pére."
Florian roared into the phone, "What is going on? I have not heard from you in weeks!"
Rosalie pulled the device from her ear ruefully while Cedric laughed at her. Florian was obviously upset with her for being off the grid for such an extended period. "Now, now, vu gros ours . It does no good to get your blood pressure up."
The man scoffed at her teasing tone.
"Don't say that, Marietta will hear you!" he hissed, "My daughter has been running all over the South American continent. It has been giving me a cornea."
"Coronary " she corrected. Rosalie could practically see Florian, in all of his criminal bravado, looking nervously around for his formidable wife. She couldn't keep a small giggle from escaping at the thought.
"Oh, laugh all you want, mon petit chat de 'la réve . Marietta is on the warpath and you have made the top of her list."
His attempt at a chastising tone only made her laugh more. The sound of Marietta's voice calling in rapid French however, silenced that laughter at once.
Florian picked up on her faltering humour, "Ha! Not so blasé now are we?"
In the same breath, Rosalie heard him whisper "Merde!" followed by the closing and locking of a heavy door. She knew from the sound, the man had taken refuge in his office.
Rosalie heaved a sigh, "Pére , everything is fine, just a minor mix-up." Her tone was placating, but he didn't buy it.
"Cedric said you left the condo this afternoon in a rush. What happened?"
Rosalie's eyes narrowed at the perpetrator across from her. "You're having me followed?"
Florian's tone was completely unapologetic. "Non , I am in contact with your associates. You won't let me give you a security detail. Therefore, I have to employ other ways of keeping you safe."
The woman took note of the frustrated tone in his voice. In reality, Florian was right, she should have a security detail. At this point in her career, Rosalie had already been in a fist fight, shot at multiple times, and now she could add being abducted to the list.
The Frenchman found her silence quite telling, his tone softening when he next spoke.
"I can have a team ready in moments, Rosalie."
She hesitated, "Pére, I hate to ask it of you…" Rosalie always disliked asking the man for anything. He had already done so much for her.
Selecting a security detail was like picking family members. They would be with her night and day, protect her, keep her secrets, and lay down their lives if necessary. In the same vein, she would be responsible for their well-being, their livelihoods, and their families, should the worst come to pass. Her empire could float the cost, but it was the responsibility for those men that made Rosalie take pause. "I have no experience in selecting a detail… Could I ask your guidance?"
Florian breathed a heavy sigh of relief, "It is no trouble, I will send a folio of acceptable candidates to your location in the morning. Until then, keep Cedric with you. What country will you be in?"
Rosalie tittered, as if he didn't already know.
However, the question brought the young woman back to the task at hand. "There is a business opportunity that is taking me to Bulgaria."
"Non ? What is this opportunity? Is that why you were spyhopping all over South America?" The man's teasing tone released the tension the woman had been holding onto.
She leisurely went through the events of the past three weeks and her fateful meeting with the man in the hat, leaving ample space for Florian to ask questions and roar with laughter at her antics.
The man's laughter quieted as she relayed the details of her capture. His tone was gentle, flickering with both pride and concern. "Your network is working beautifully mon trésor , but you need to find out how that man managed to know your location before you were there. That condo is burnt, you would do well to be rid of it and purchase another location in São Paulo."
Rosalie's head nodded in agreement. She knew after being unceremoniously taken from the location herself, she couldn't have her clientele using it in good conscience. As for Reddington's knowledge of her whereabouts, Rosalie was loathe to admit that was her own fault. She told Florian as much, that she had been unwilling to leave the continent due to a deal in play. After running throughout the continent, the only logical move she had left was to fly to São Paulo.
Florian's deep chuckle resonated through the connection, "Ah, you are truly ma fille . I despise being interrupted mid-acquisition." There was a beat of silence before he whispered conspiratorially, "How is the property in Patagonia?"
It was Rosalie's turn to laugh merrily. She could just see Florian's features turning to boyish delight as she relayed the specifics of her newest location. "It is magnificent."
"I am sure it will be a splendid addition, the location is sublime. Now… what shall we do about this Concierge fellow, what is his name?"
"Raymond Reddington" she sighed, "I've been out of the social scene too long. I have no idea who he is."
"Hmmm… that is alright, I know of him. We have done business with him on the shipping routes out of Corsica. Other than kidnapping you, I have not heard of any exploits outside of the usual racketeering, murder, etcetera. If Reddington was up to something more heinous than that, I would know." Florian decided not to tell her the man had basically tattled on her. He was surprised and pleased at the loyalty Reddington had showed.
Any apprehension regarding the deal disappated almost instantly. She trusted the blustering Frenchman beyond all others. He would know if there was something unsavoury about the man, and she trusted him to always tell her what she needed to know. With her conscience settled, Rosalie proceeded to flip through the folio containing her properties.
"You know I would never let anything happen to you mon trésor. " The man soothed through the connection.
Rosalie paused for a beat. "You'll save me from Marietta, then?" she sniggered, knowing full well the fiery little Parisian owned Florian body and soul.
"I could deny her nothing, even if it means letting her tan your hide for not calling more often."
The young woman snorted indelicately. "Yes, well, she will have to catch me first."
"Do not underestimate her, Rosalie...I think my own men would turn on me with a snap of her fingers."
The pair laughed heartily at the idea of wispy little Marietta absconding with Florian's entire security detail on a whim.
In the silence that followed, Rosalie pieced together the issue that had been bothering her most. " Pére , he knew who I was. He knew my name was Rosalie, he knew about my mother…How did he find out about her?"
Florian didn't sound overtly concerned. "He is a concierge, it is their job to know things. Did he threaten her?"
"No, but…" Rosalie sighed, "I can't risk my mother finding out what I've become, Florian. It would hurt her. She wouldn't understand. She doesn't know what I've been doing all this time."
The old mobster nodded thoughtfully, the girl's true concerns finally coming to light. Rosalie's capture concerned her significantly less than the idea of what could happen to her mother should she be discovered. The girl's purpose as a criminal was built upon caring for the woman and ensuring Rosalie the freedom to pursue the life she was meant to have.
The young spitfire had come to Florian under the most beguiling circumstances, and he had warmed to the little darling immediately. Rosalie was and would always be, a criminal by nature. Blessed with a keen intellect and a moral compass that points to her true north as opposed to that of the law, this life was a natural progression for her. She belonged in Florian's world, the edges of right and wrong, that is where she truly shone. The man understood her need to protect her mother. In truth, she and the woman were very close. Rosalie maintained the ruse of traveling for work, her mother believing that her daughter was an international real estate agent. In reality, the young woman had been learning how to be a criminal from Florian.
Now, three years later, Rosalie was poised to become an institution in the dark corners of their world. Her safe house network was growing steadily, and her abilities were garnering her a loyal and high-profile clientele. All without any input from Florian or his fellow Corsicans. The woman was building an empire in her own right.
If this Reddington knew of her last remaining family member, someone else could as well. The security around her mother would need to be increased, Florian decided. He would see to it personally, placing some of his own people in the retirement community in which she lived. It would do no good for Rosalie to be fretting about her mother's security when she is dealing in high-stakes negotiations.
"You need to focus on your new client. I will take care of your mother, ma fille. I'll see to her security, and make sure that any ties to you are buried so deep, even Reddington won't find them."
A feeling of relief wrapped itself around Rosalie, knowing Florian would keep his word. He always did.
"And Cedric?" she asked dryly, trying to lighten the mood.
"What about Cedric?" Florian chuckled, his expression bemused.
"Where can I drop him off, I can't stand looking at his face anymore." She stuck her tongue out at the offending party, who had been casually flipping her the bird.
She could feel Florian's exasperation through the phone as he sighed. "The two of you are going to be the death of me." He grumbled, "You are to keep Cedric with you until I say otherwise."
Rosalie's giggling filtered through the phone, making the older man smile warmly.
The woman sighed happily, "Well, Pére , I will have to get busy if I'm going to have the Bulgarian property ready for occupation in 12 hours."
"Bon chance, ma fille."
Rosalie ended the call and went to pour herself a drink. It was going to be a tense couple of hours before she would be able to sleep.
In order to have the Varna property prepared, Rosalie would need her associates to begin working without her. Whipping through the folio she had been looking at, she began to dial her contacts for Bulgaria. Conversing in stilted Bulgarian she laid out the plans for her newest client.
The young woman had racked her brain for things she noticed during her brief captivity in Redington's penthouse. The colour of the drapes, the decorations, the bottle of scotch that was on the bar cart, she slowly filtered through it all. Contacting her property manager she delegated the appropriate linens, foods, and various other accoutrements that she felt would suit her client's taste and expectations.
Two hours later, Rosalie had contacted her property manager, landscaper, maids, and a personal shopper. Over the next twelve hours they would be cleaning, sprucing, and readying the house. Florian even provided a few of his security to check the property for any vulnerabilities, bugs, or other problems. Feeling that the major aspects of the property were underway, Rosalie stood and stretched languidly. She smirked at Cedric, his large body lying prone on the sofa. She draped one of the soft blankets over him and kissed the top of his head. Even in his sleep he swatted grumpily at her. Rosalie tittered as she headed to the lavatory, hoping to freshen up before getting some much-needed sleep.
12 hours later - Varna, Bulgaria
Rosalie stepped off the plane feeling refreshed and ready to ackle the situation at hand. A dark SUV waited for them on their arrival. Rosalie hopped into the driver's seat, ignoring Cedric's mildly put-upon look as she took off towards the safe house.
"So," he said, breaking the silence, "What is the story with this new client of yours?"
Rosalie's lips pursed, "He's a big client, willing to bring lots of little clients with him, moves every two days..."
Cedric's Parisian drawl hitched slightly, " Every two days? "
Rosalie nodded thoughtfully, "182 safe houses per year, if he doesn't stay in the same place twice. I have my work cut out for me."
"Can your network even support that?" The man brought up a valid question.
"It will, once I've finished. I'll need to hire more property managers, but it's feasible."
Cedric shook his head, "Imagine if one gets the flu...What a nightmare."
Rosalie gawped at him, her eyebrows shooting to her hairline. "Thanks for that!"
"...What?"
"You know what! Killjoy." she laughed, throwing the map at him.
Cedric smirked as he caught the projectile, proceeding to toss it in the back seat.
"Prat." She teased.
"Brat." He countered.
Rosalie nibbled her bottom lip as they continued down the road.
"You don't know where you're going without the map... Do you, Rosalie?" Cedric's face held a sly grin as he watched her attempt to locate the next turn.
She groaned, passing street after street with no knowledge of where she needed to go. "I told Pére you were a nuisance."
The man snorted, retrieving the map from the rear seat. "Oh please, Florian knows you just like to complain."
"You're fired." She groused, snatching the map from his grasp.
Finally pulling into the gravel drive, Rosalie smiled softly up at the two-story home built into the hillside. The place was a fortress in its own right, as its illustrious history had shown. The house had been utilized as a halfway point for Russian operatives moving between the Motherland and Italy during World War II. The large pale rocks that made up the facade were completely bulletproof, but showed scuffs here and there from its previous occupation. The patio off of the second floor master overlooked the garden with its shimmering pool, the Black Sea winking off in the distance.
Rosalie found herself hoping the location would be to Reddington's liking.
Their arrival at the home initiated a flurry of activity. Cedric moved the woman's luggage into the guest house on the other side of the property while his charge busied herself with her associates. The maids came scurrying up to hug the young woman, patting her cheeks affectionately and chattering in Bulgarian. Rosalie beamed at the pair, enquiring about their health and their respective families as they lead her into the house.
The heavy oak floors positively gleamed in the morning light. Rosalie took a quick turn about the living room sighing her approval, "My dear friends, the place looks magnificent."
The women smiled proudly and continued escorting their employer around the house. As each room opened to her, Rosalie remembered why she had chosen this home for her Bulgarian operations. The strong wooden beams, walls of solid stone, they gave an earthy, natural quality to the space that made her feel stable and grounded. The young woman's nerves melted slowly as each space revealed itself.
Having found the property and grounds to her standards, Rosalie delegated a few last-minute tasks to the property manager before ushering her associates from the home amid promises of dinner and drinks later. They would be staying in the guest house as well, giving Rosalie ample opportunity to properly thank them for readying the space in her absence.
Striding quietly out onto the veranda, the woman peered at her watch. Her client would be arriving soon...
Reddington's jet landed late that afternoon, taxying to park alongside Florian's Gulfstream.
They had made a minor detour to pickup a blustering Howard Hargrave, who would be acting as broker for the deal Reddington was hoping to make. The man was not yet aware that Raymond had located the innkeeper he had mentioned a few weeks ago. Nor did he know their base of operations for the next few days would be one of hers.
Howard halted for a moment outside the door, recognizing the jet beside them. "I'll be damned if that's not Florian's jet." he commented, shielding his eyes from the late afternoon sun and gazing at the bird.
"Ah, so it is!" called a booming voice. The imposing figure of Florian Armel appeared at the bottom of the staircase, peering up at Raymond and his entourage. Descending from the jet, the group found two black sedans waiting for them. The bosses engaged in perfunctory handshakes while their respective security simply nodded stoically at one another.
"Florian, I'm sure you remember Howard, he's brokering a sale for me while I am in Bulgaria."
The two men nodded and shook hands once more.
Howard winced apologetically, "On that note, I really should head down to the marina, Raymond. I will need to get my assessment started if you want to complete the deal in the next 48 hours."
Red smiled knowingly, "Certainly, the car is at your disposal. I should be there in a few hours."
Howard took his leave, making a beeline for the first sedan, his bodyguards following him.
Florian genially watched the man leave. "Well," he said, patting Reddington on the back, "It seems there is no time like the present. Let's go see this plane thief!" The old mobster chuckled knowingly and headed for the second vehicle.
Dembe exchanged an amused glance with Raymond before taking one of the front seats.
The comfortable sedan clipped along the highway as Red and Florian sat in companionable silence. Neither one wanted to broach the subject of Rosalie. Their stalemate did not last long though, as they arrived moment later at a magnificent stone property settled into the hillside. The blonde in question was stood on the front steps of the home, waiting to welcome her new client.
As the men exited the confines of the vehicle, Reddington heard the woman gasp in surprise.
He turned in time to see Rosalie Ølegaard throw herself into Florian's arms, kissing his cheeks and practically squealing, "Mon Pére!"
