After a four-day break, the agents had caught up on paperwork and other necessary housekeeping that kept their tight ship running smoothly.
The quiet of the last day had lifted their spirits and as they entered the late afternoon, even the dour Agent Ressler seemed in a jovial mood.
The sound of the elevator descending had some in the area tensing. All eyes turned expectantly. After Anslo Garrick had breached the site, it paid to be cautious.
After a few moments, the door opened. Then a familiar voice called out, "Honey, I'm home."
Aram and Samar smiled their relief that it was friend, not foe. Ressler's face grimaced, his jovial mood a thing of the past.
Liz smiled sympathetically at her partner. They all knew of his hot date tonight and had been wishing that nothing would hamper his plans.
Unbeknownst to Ressler, the entire Post Office placed bets on whether or not he would score, and any info gained was a hot topic around the water cooler.
Red and Dembe came striding into the pen, as cocky and blasé as ever.
Liz scanned them both for new wounds or physical ailments, finding none, relaxing mentally and physically.
As she watched Red swaggering toward them, grinning as though he had not a care in the world, she wasn't sure why she had been so worried after the phone call had ended yesterday.
For a brief second, their eyes met and the facade he wove about himself dropped completely, replaced by a slight scowl of concern, a questioning look appearing on the handsome face.
Liz shook off his unasked questions with a brief gesture of her hand, her eyes reassuring the man all was well. She was having difficulty holding the penetrating gaze, lowering her eyes, shifting about almost anxiously.
He inclined his head briefly in response.
She cleared her throat gently, busying herself with paperwork she had already addressed.
Reddington's mouth curved sensually, sensing the reason behind the woman's sudden awkward state. He gallantly gave her a reprieve putting his private thoughts aside for the moment.
Although his security team had assured Elizabeth's safety, both last night and of course, her arrival to the Blacksite itself... Reddington felt better after seeing the woman himself.
The fact that she trusted in him to protect her, was a moment of epic proportions for a host of reasons.
The one upper most in his mind at this exact moment in time... had shocked him. Not an easy task by any stretch of the imagination.
The whole episode itself had been so unlike Elizabeth Keen. A pleasant change, to say the least.
Red replayed the events as they had happened, his mind wandering briefly.
A minute smile touched his lips.
He allowed himself just a second to imagine that he was hearing that breathy voice in his ear once again, not through the phone, but as he lay next to her.
The sweet moment was shattered by the incessant ringing of a thousand phones. He grimaced irritably, brought back all too soon from a very pleasant visual.
Reddington shifted the burden in his arms, trying to retain his train of thought.
Surely she didn't see anything wrong with self pleasuring. Aside from being perfectly healthy and an activity he very much loved watching, it was a need.
For a beautiful young woman such as Elizabeth, just hitting her prime, it was an incessant need. Especially with everything going on in her life... the stress relief, the rush of endorphins, the high of orgasm...
It was just what Lizzy needed even if she wasn't aware.
It's effects seemed to be filtering over into today.
They had silently communicated and it had felt as comfortable, as natural, as it was between he and Dembe.
A week ago she would have avoided the evening's events, acted as though they had never happened.
The subtle gesture she had offered spoke volumes. There would be further discussion on the matter, simply at a more opportune time.
He was satisfied with the outcome so far.
"She should masturbate more often..." Red mumbled to himself, but obviously not low enough when Dembe's mouth turned upward at the corner, having heard the innocuous remark. Red shared a small tilt of his head with his friend, then shrugged as if to say, Well, she should.
The man scanned the group, frowning when he reached Ressler's pouting features.
"Why the long face?" Red pointed his chin is the strawberry blonds' direction.
"He has a date tonight." Aram helpfully supplied.
"You can always back out if she's that bad, Donald." Red looked confused, setting down his burden. "Tell her someone died."
Liz and Samar exchanged perplexed glances over the nondescript boxes Red had sat aside, their curiosity more than piqued.
"He wanted to go." Liz shrugged her slender shoulders. "But now that you're here... "
"Have no fear Donald." the man smiled, whipping the fedora from his head with a flourish. "If you're positive you still wish to go." Red shrugged.
Donald eyed the felon warily. "You didn't come here to give us a new name from the Blacklist?"
"I did."
Ressler deflated, Red held his smile. "But he will not be state side for another two days. I am merely here to give warning."
"Do we have a name?" Liz asked.
"A killer for hire. A psychopath who calls himself Carver." Red sat on the stool, spinning it in Lizzy's direction. "You've probably seen his handiwork throughout the States, but hadn't connected the modus operandi."
"Then what am I looking for exactly, Mr. Reddington?" Aram asked meekly his hands poised over the keyboard.
"Carver strips the flesh from his victims, usually hanging the pieces along a handy line of rope, like putting out the laundry. Even uses the clothes' pins." Red's mouth pinched with distaste, "I'm not a fan of his work. After you've stripped a line or two, if they haven't talked, they're not going to. He finishes out of pure enjoyment."
Having seen some of the worst of which people were capable, Red was surprised to note some of the faces present, exhibited a range of emotions. Some squeamish, some disturbed, all taken aback by the information given.
"This is a man who takes extreme pride and delight in his work, who ends his 'slice and dice' by carving the initials, CRVR." Red scratched his head, "I have to wonder," he had to admit, "if you've gone to the trouble of going that far, why not add the vowels?" he scoffed at the stupidity of it all.
"And you know he's coming here, how?" Ressler asked.
"He's taken out two of my associates in the last few weeks." Red said. "It only makes sense that he'd come for Edward."
"And why is that?" Liz paused in her writing. "And who is this Edward?"
"Besides Edward being a weasel of a human being, it's a food chain." Red explained. "Edward is somewhere near the bottom but a vital connection."
"And where are you on this chain?" Liz had to ask.
"Sweetheart, I'm always on top." Red leered playfully.
Samar's full lips curved into an inviting grin.
Liz tried very hard to not be amused, "So why didn't he come after you?"
"He wasn't hired to come after me." Red waved his hand nonchalantly, "These men are loose ends and need to be erased. It could be a contract gone south, an action not performed to the specifications of the hiring party. Any and all of the above."
"Who are these guys in the grand scheme of things?" Liz queried.
"You mean their specialty?" Red assumed. "Victor was receiving, Edward is shipping, Carlos was money, the go between."
"Of what exactly?" Ressler asked.
"Drugs, arms, miscellaneous merchandise." Red shrugged, giving a noncommittal shake of his head. "They moved what needed to be moved. If they were paid enough, I'm sure they weren't discriminatory."
Not having limited his search parameters, had slowed Aram's success greatly.
"I think I've found something." the nervous young man piped in, popping pictures up on the screen's overhead. "I'm still running a search to see how far back this signature goes."
Liz looked up at the grotesque pictures, grimacing. "How did no one see they were connected?"
Red studied the photographs closely, his innate sense of humanity coming to the fore. He glanced away, disheartened.
"If someone didn't enter it into the database correctly, there would have been an oversight." Red said. "He changes it up each time in some small way."
"Do you know any of these people, Reddington?" Ressler demanded.
"Thirteen of the twenty." Red refused to look back at the pictures behind him.
"But you don't know the others?" Cooper was curious having entered the Pen a few minutes back.
"These were husbands, wives, bosses." Red picked up his fedora, smoothing the rim. "Normal people, personal hits. They weren't even felons or criminals." the man's shoulders slumped slightly as he crossed the room, "Looks like he didn't discriminate about where the work came from either."
"All right people, let's get this sorted." Cooper said, limping to the clear boards, tacking up a picture as a starting point.
Three hours later and the agents had a working time line, not that it would really be of any use in the following days.
The FBI way of doing things, the procedures, the routines, gathering evidence for court, made Red want to vomit. So much time wasted, so many resources that could be put to better use. Often, Reddington had rethought his affiliation with such people or such a system, rather.
He knew why he had done it, but he found the tedium unbearable at times.
He had sat out of the way, rereading War and Peace. It seemed appropriate, since the length of the book was equal to the amount of time misspent.
At least he had filled them with scrumptious food which everyone had seemed to greatly appreciate. Such a break fed the body, true, but also the mind.
Dembe amused himself with New York Times crossword puzzles. He originally had tried to emulate his Mentor, using only ink. Red smiled to himself, for the man now had downgraded to pencil.
Cooper's loud voice, stilled the scurrying agents. "Now people, we're moving on to... "
"Oh for God's sake Harold! Let them go." Red said smoothly, not looking up from his book. "It's Friday night. Ressler has a hot date. How often does that happen?"
"Reddington," Cooper objected strenuously, "we have a lot to do here."
"All of that," Red pointed to the pictures wrapped around three walls, "is not going to help you catch him."
"Then why did we do it?" Cooper asked disgustedly
"I don't know why you're upset with me," Red sipped at his tea. "I only said, take a look at his work, not make a book report out of it." he shut the book gently. "Not all is lost," he waved over the data nonchalantly, "you'll need this for the courts," he muttered quietly, "assuming you get Carver there at all." he sat his book aside.
"You have no faith in us Red?" Coopers tone mellowed, having heard the remark.
"I get the feeling that he's not a 'take me alive' type of guy." Red stood, walking to the neglected boxes. Aram's interest was immediate and focused. "You may get him, but it won't be a walk in the park."
Red grabbed the top package, handing it over with a flourish to Cooper. "For you and Charlene."
Cooper removed the top of the box to reveal a slew of fresh made chocolates. The smell was mouth watering.
The others craned their head to see the contents.
"While we were in Italy, we happened upon the most amazing confectioner who didn't seem to have one particular specialty." Red peered in the box. "Not that it mattered, everything was so delicious." he checked with Dembe. "I think we gained ten pounds." Dembe nodded to his smiling friend in agreement.
"Steal a piece or two Harold." It was advised. "Charlene won't let you near it when you get home, and you know as much."
Cooper gingerly pulled out a small piece, biting into the soft chocolate. "Delicious. Absolutely delicious." the man smiled warmly. Holding out the box to share with the others. "Thank you, Reddington. Charlene will be pleased."
"Oh... my... God!" Both women burst out in unison as they savored the delicacy. One would have thought they were having a religious experience.
Ressler and Aram had swallowed their's whole, not understanding what the big deal was about. Both exchanged perplexed glances.
Red lips quivered with amusement watching the pair, Dembe, bowed his head slightly hiding his big grin.
"It's just a piece of candy." Ressler gestured helplessly.
Aram fingered the stack of remaining boxes, questioningly. "That's a lot of candy."
"Have no fear ladies," Red stated, passing box after box to the correct recipient, "I'm not completely idiotic."
Beautifully wrapped gift boxes of expensive chocolates seemed secondary to the larger items embossed with name brand designer labels.
Respective mouths dropped. Samar and Elizabeth did not have to be told twice. Both ripped the tops off their packages, eagerly gazing inside, having moved aside tissue paper.
Liz's blue eyes widened and she gasped, stunned. A silver pair of the most amazing high heeled shoes with intricate straps shimmered in the light. If she had to classify them upon first sight, she would have said Cinderella could not have worn anything except these fantastic shoes to the Ball.
Samar gently fingered the champagne straps running her nail from toe to ankle. Red crooked his head, bending lower. "Agent Navabi," his voice held a trace of awe, "I don't think I've ever truly seen you smile."
Liz's eyes grew even larger as she held up for all to see, the handbag which matched her phenomenal gift, perfectly.
Samar's voice almost squealed her delight holding up her own matching purse. "I know!"
"One simply does not go to Italy and not buy shoes." Red nodded knowingly, again checking his facts with Dembe who stroked his chin thoughtfully, in total agreement.
The women were inspecting their gifts, feeling the cushy and supple insides of the shoes, running their fingers delicately over the beautiful lines, mesmerized.
Red playfully waved a hand under their faces and chuckled when neither woman acknowledged him in the least.
Aram held up his black shoes, a perplexed look on his face. "Uh, thank you Mr. Reddington."
Ressler who had been just as lost, frowned hard at his own nine hundred-dollar pair of shoes.
"God, you are such barbarians." Red punctuated the next sentence carefully and slowly, "Put... them... on."
Aram immediately did his bidding, sitting hastily pulling the rich leather over his feet. Ressler scratched his head, looked around for a seat, found one and followed suit.
Both men stood carefully, their expressions altering drastically.
"Awesome... " Aram exclaimed, glancing at Ressler's feet and then his own again.
Ressler looked at the shoes in wonderment. "Damn."
Red ticked off his fingers, "I gave you the flight number, time of arrival, a very detailed description of the man... " he seemed at a loss. "And you lost him? What did you do, send Ressler?"
Ressler weakly defended himself, "Navabi was there too."
"You two shouldn't broadcast that fact." Red laughed, holding his stomach. "Donald, you constantly exceed my expectations."
He turned his attention to the business at hand. "Edward, is not as of yet, in the State. Which might buy us a couple days."
"Carver won't track him down?" Liz asked.
"Carver has already been paid to do the job. He'll bide his time." Red supplied. "If you're lucky, he'll take a couple days off, go sightseeing."
"The cherry blossoms are in bloom this time of year." Aram helpfully piped in.
Everyone glanced curiously at the man. Reddington waved his hands expressively, shutting his eyes in remembrance. "Ah, the fragrance. So wonderful."
Cooper chuckled the tension from the room.
"You don't think he'll take on another job?" Liz got things back on track.
"I don't know the man's complete social calendar. He's highly in demand."
"Do you know where he might go to ground?" Ressler said.
"Our best bet right now is finding and tailing Edward." Red countered.
"Who knows who could die while we're waiting for this Edward to show up."
Red could feel all their frustrations, especially Liz's.
"We'll find him." he reassured, knowing full well there could be a high head count by the time they were done.
Red Reddington was damned frustrated.
His men were down to the last popular flop on the list, every major hiding place known to man, and they had turned up nothing.
Red was the best at making people disappear, so not being able to find someone as despicable as Carver, left an itch under his skin that wouldn't go away.
The filthy bastard may not be in the city, granted, but his men were the best at their jobs. They knew people who knew people. With a tri-state search going on for the psychopath, they had nothing...
When he came face to face with the son of a bitch, and he would, eventually. Red knew he would definitely have the asshole questioned in depth by Brimley.