Chapter Text
“Knight to H3.”
Aram and Liz remain huddled in front of the laptop, neither showing surprise at Reddington’s sudden suggestion from over their shoulders.
“But that will sacrifice—”
“It will indeed, Agent Mojtabai, but you’ll close it out in two moves.”
True to his word, with a check and checkmate later, the game is complete and the agents turn to find the Most Wanted looking a bit pleased with himself.
“Who were you playing?”
“An eleven year old from Devonshire,” Aram mutters. “That’s the first match I’ve managed to win.”
“With a little help,” Liz reminds him with a smile.
“Things must be slow if the task force is reduced to mid-morning chess.”
“And who’s to blame for that, Reddington? You’re my CI so criminally inform, why don’t you?”
He chuckles at her raised eyebrow and walks around to the front of Aram’s desk to plop down his fedora. “As it happens, I am here to discuss an associate you are currently questioning.”
“What are you talking about? The only thing being questioned around here is your immunity deal for the lack of cases.”
“Very amusing, Agent Keen.” He raises an eyebrow back at her before continuing. “Not you specifically. You, as in the FBI, are currently detaining an associate at a blacksite in New Rochelle.”
“Do we have a blacksite in New Rochelle?” It seems Aram is thinking the very same thing as Liz at that moment.
“Funny enough, you do. Now, I’d like to have her brought to the Post Office where it will be more convenient to arrange her release.”
“Her?” Liz asks quietly, with the slightest edge in her voice.
“Cassandra Bianchi.” Ignoring the way her eyes have narrowed into slits, Red checks the time on his Rolex and continues quite cheerily. “If they get moving, she should be here in a few hours and out the door by dinner.”
“Reddington, the FBI doesn’t arrange your dinner dates.”
“I assure you, there are certain areas where I don’t need the FBI’s assistance.”
“Your girlfriends aren’t the bureau’s business.”
“But it is in the business of the Blacklist.”
“Is she a blacklister?”
“Not exactly.”
Aram is watching the back and forth as intently as he might a grand slam tennis match, but can’t help wondering aloud. “How exactly do you know about…”
“You really don’t want me to answer that.”
“I do though,” Aram mumbles before the match resumes once more.
“Why are we holding her, Reddington?”
“I presume it has something to do with—”
“So you don’t know exactly?”
“I know enough.”
“Which is not good enough, I’m afraid,” Liz replies, folding her arms resolutely.
With no new cases, things have indeed been quiet within the Post Office, but suddenly the agents and specialists present find any and every excuse to mill about the war room. Cooper’s footsteps descending the stairs are the only sounds as Red and Liz watch each other.
With a sigh, he finally gives in. “Cassandra was in New York to broker a deal for the sale of a rare and exquisite antiquity that we happened to acquire together.”
“Together?”
“Yes.” Her eyes have narrowed again and he shifts his weight back and forth, choosing his words carefully. “Along with a few partners. I’m sure we can clear up the misunderstanding once the transfer to this blacksite takes place.”
“Who are we supposed to be bringing to the Post Office?” Cooper asks once he arrives at Aram’s desk.
“Reddington’s partner in crime is currently being detained in New Rochelle and he’d like them transferred and released by dinner.”
“Dembe?”
“A female partner in crime,” Liz returns calmly, never taking her eyes from Red’s.
“Aram, reach out to Panabaker for information on this detainee,” Cooper instructs and holds up a hand when Liz starts to object. “Agent Keen, it is my understanding that the New York task force specializes in foreign operatives at work here in America. If they are holding Reddington’s associate, there is a reason and I’d like to know what that is and how it involves our CI.”
Suddenly there is an air of excitement as Cooper smiles pleasantly back at their informant and Liz does the same. The fedora is retrieved by its owner without another word and is headed toward the elevator when Ressler steps off, realizing immediately something is most definitely up.
“What’s going on?”
“What is that expression about a day late and a dollar short, Agent Ressler?”
“And what exactly am I late for, Reddington?”
“The first match in what could be a very interesting game.”
The elevator doors close, leaving the Post Office abuzz with activity and Liz wondering just what game they are playing.
“One day you’re not going to get your way and I hope I’m around to see it.”
“Now, now, Agent Keen. did you have anything else more important to do this afternoon?”
Red already knows the answer to that and is smiling slightly when she glances over with a roll of her eyes. They are on one side of a two way mirror, watching as Aram questions Cassandra Bianchi in the room beyond.
Though what type of interrogation it is with the way they are both laughing she can’t imagine. Liz would swear there is a flush creeping up from Aram’s collar and resists the urge to turn up the volume to hear what it is that’s being said.
“She certainly is charming,” Liz observes, studying the blonde through the mirror. Their detainee appears completely at ease or at least is giving a damned good impression that she hasn’t a care in the world considering her current predicament. “And very controlled.”
“Mmmmm.”
“Care to expand on that?” she goes on, turning his way.
They are interrupted by Cooper and Ressler entering the confines of the observation room, making Red chuckle at his escape from her questions.
“It appears the FBI, NSA, CIA and a few more off the record agencies are very interested in the set of Byzantine nesting caskets you liberated from Turkey.”
Red glances thoughtfully toward Cooper. “I can’t for the life of me imagine why that would be so.”
“From what the case agent tells us, a deep cover CIA operative posing as an archeologist obtained a list of some or all of the foreign agents embedded in the US and was attempting to smuggle it out of Izmir when he disappeared almost two years ago.”
“What does this have to do with the caskets?”
“The agent gave his handler information that the list was hidden within a shipment of antiques on their way to a London museum. I’m sure you would be able to tell us why that shipment never arrived,” Cooper returns somberly.
“I could,” Red muses quietly. “Their connection to this list is unknown to any of those involved.”
“You sure about that?” Ressler asks with his usual skepticism.
“I’ve just said so, Agent Ressler.”
“And nothing about the caskets appeared out of the ordinary?”
“Nothing.” Red turns to Liz in answer to her question. “They were authenticated but beyond that nothing has been done with them. They have been held until…”
“The heat was off so you could sell.”
“That is one way to put it, Agent Keen.”
“That’s the only way to put it. So your associate goes to New York in hopes of striking a deal but finds herself caught in a CIA sting operation.”
“Yes. At this point there is really only one thing to do.”
Cooper, Liz and Ressler don’t volunteer what that one thing could possibly be and remain silent, waiting for Red to continue.
“Go through with the sale.”
“Reddington, the sale was a CIA fake.” He looks at her so patiently she feels the need to take a deep breath. “Okay, I’m assuming there was a plan for the stakeholders to meet if the price was right.”
He gives her a smile and continues with the plan. “We were all waiting to hear from Cassandra. As the architect she will have arranged a meeting place where the reunion of the caskets could take place and be transferred to their new owner in safety and privacy. Let her go and the instructions will be sent. Once we have the set assembled, perhaps we will discover what secrets it is hiding.”
“You think we’re just going to let her walk out of here to run off with you to god knows where?”
“I do,” Red replies matter-of-factly to Ressler.
“Then you’re taking one of us with you. We can’t risk one of your buddies discovering the list before we get a chance to see exactly what is on it.”
“That’s an excellent idea. I think it should be Aram.”
“Aram?”
“Aram?”
“Aram?”
Red looks to the three who have just spoken in unison before pointing over his shoulder. “They seem to have hit it off so I figured he’d be the logical choice.”
Three pairs of eyes look past Red to Aram and Cassandra chatting casually and then back again.
“Although the CIA agent posing as the buyer’s broker was a woman therefore it might be better if Agent Keen accompanies me.”
“Director Cooper,” Liz says after contemplating the situation. “Have Aram compile everything he can find out about these nesting caskets, the Byzantine empire and anything else he thinks pertinent. I’m going home to pack since I assume we’ll be traveling.”
“I take it we have a deal then?” Red asks, looking around the room, extremely pleased with the turning of events. “Harold?”
“Yes. Your associate’s freedom in exchange for the list.”
“Excellent, excellent.” Red dons the fedora he’s holding and makes his way to the door. “If you’d be so kind as to escort Cassandra back to New York after you offer her the deal.”
“Of course.”
“Well, I’ll be on my way. Wouldn’t want to risk bumping into her on the way out and blow my cover, as they say.”
“And make sure you call me with the instructions for where to meet,” Liz calls out to him, before he leaves.
“I will, Agent Keen,” With another check of the time, he gives her a mischievous smile. “See, just in time for dinner.”
“He’s impossible,” Ressler mutters as the door closes with a snap.
“That’s one word for it.” Liz gives them a small wave and leaves, heading in the opposite direction of the one that preceded her.
“Won’t it be a little conspicuous if we arrive together?”
Red looks up as Liz climbs aboard the jet and walks toward the galley where he is pouring himself a scotch. “More than a little which is why I’m dropping you off in Edinburgh. From there we will travel to the island separately.”
“A Scottish isle in the dead of winter, a band of criminals and a stolen antiquity hiding a master spy list. What could possibly go wrong?”
“Agent Keen, where is your sense of adventure?”
Liz steps forward to lift the glass from his hand just as he is about to take the first swallow and does so herself. It burns a path down her throat, but she ignores it as she sets the glass aside and reaches a hand behind his neck, drawing him forward. She tastes like whiskey and the winter wind, eliciting a small moan from him when she kisses him and all rational thought disappears for a few spectacular minutes.
“Enough with the Agent Keens, Raymond,” she whispers, taking in a breath and lets her other hand come up to link with the one over his shoulder. “Do you think they suspect anything?”
“Not a thing.”
“I don’t know, sometimes I wonder if Aram has guessed.”
“I doubt it.”
“Ressler had a look.”
“Lizzy, he always has that look. We were completely professional and incognito as usual.” Raymond brushes his lips gently across hers, until the worry fades from her expression and the tension leaves her body. “Now to more important matters.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” She leans forward again, but is halted by his hands on her shoulders holding her in place. “What?”
“Dinner first, then you have some studying to do. Tomorrow you will need a working knowledge of Byzantine antiquities.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. I haven’t seen you all week since you’ve been in New York, up to no good, I might add. You failed to mention you were off to meet this Cassandra when you left.”
He chuckles and takes her hands from around his neck and drops a kiss on one and then the other. “Strictly business, Lizzy. There is no need to be—“
“Don’t say it, Reddington.”
“Enough with the Reddingtons,” he replies with a chuckle, leading her to a seat. “I imagine you didn’t have time to eat so I ordered takeout from that place you like on the street with the shop we went to that day.”
She knows just the one and relaxes back as he goes to putter around the small galley, unpacking their meal. “We have to be back by Friday, remember.”
“I promised Agnes I’d be at her recital and nothing is going to interfere with that,” he agrees emphatically.
After a few minutes he brings her a plate piled high and one for himself. A bottle of wine follows and though she is technically working and though she really does have to brush up on her knowledge of ancient empires, she does not object when he hands her a glass.
“I missed you,” she murmurs when he sits across from her and lets her legs intertwine with his under the small table between them.
“Lizzy, if you keep looking at me that way, everyone will guess.”
“There’s no one here,” she returns with a smile. “Besides I could say the same of you.”
He raises his glass and waits for her to do the same. “To poker faces and secret desires.”
“I’ll drink to that.”