His associate was missing. Of course, this happened from time to time, the seedy underbelly of the world was not one that was easy to survive in, not for everyone–and not even for Raymond Reddington. But this associate was always careful, always came out with his head on his shoulders, and a cock-eyed smirk on his face. He was never just missing. After an arduous half an hour at the cesspool of humanity known as the DMV, Glen argued for a good ten additional minutes until he finally gave him the information he sought.
Some “Man in a Suit,” had taken him out of his apartment. Why? No idea, and no amount of berating Glen got him any closer to an answer, but he did get a location. Red and Dembe, through no small effort, saved the associate and incapacitated this Suit-wearing individual. He found the earwig himself, hearing a buzzing noise that turned out to be someone on the other end of the line. It nestled into his ear–though not as well as it ought to, as it was not made for him–and he listened for a while, smile playing on his features as “John? John are you there? What’s happened?” panicked sounds of a man whom he had long thought only a myth. This was just delightful.
“Listen, Mr. Finch,” he crooned, “or Sparrow, Egret, Ibis –– whatever name you’ve… plucked from the aviary this week –– I’ve ʜᴇᴀʀᴅ of you.” He let that sink in, just for a moment, “been watching you and your errand boy for some time now, and I don’t know exactly what it is or how it is you do what you do, but –– color me intrigued. Anyway! Long story short? I’ve reclaimed my associate and taken the liberty of borrowing your guard dog here. Now, don’t worry I can ensure his safety, but not without a price. Come collect him yourself. Be at this address in,” Red paused, checked his watch as Dembe finished tying the man securely. He exhaled with a hissed sigh, “shall we say twenty minutes? I would love to have a tête-à-tête, see if we can hash out details of this little agreement, that you stay out of my affairs, and you two can walk out with a story to tell your grandkids. Don’t bother protesting, you and I both know you really have no choice in the matter, so don’t even bother trying to talk your way out of it, all right? Wonderful! Ta-ta.” Without giving the man on the other end time to answer, the earwig fell to the ground and was crushed beneath his entirely too expensive shoes.
“Dembe!” he called, smiling, “Go get some lunch from Del Frisco’s, and a bottle of that Burgundy you liked so much.” This would be quite the afternoon. “Buy an extra for our incoming friend.” Red was a gentleman if nothing else.
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