Chapter Text
“How did he knew? One minute he was asking if he could trust me, and the next, he turned around and called me a killer.”
Hitchin kept tossing that idea around in her head, as she thoughtfully swirled her favourite spirit, to take another sip. These past few days have been an absolute clusterfuck, from not being able to get rid of Keen, to acquiescing to the insufferable Reddington, losing Kotsiopulos, cleaning up the fallout and placating the Cabal members.
Now that the situation is more or less under control, she could finally relax and allow herself to look into other matters and think things over including this riddle that bugged her ceaselessly.
Hitchin abhorred being the direct target of any form of accusation, especially as a murderer. After all, she is the National Security Advisor and she worked her ass off to present an unblemished reputation and career history in order to get here. Never mind, the very long list of murder, manipulation, sexual favours, cheating, and betrayal to her name, which have been carefully kept hidden, long enough to stay in the game and climb to the top. She is perceived as an upstanding character who has worked hard to be where she is now and she intended to keep it that way, no matter what it takes.
Then, comes along this pipsqueak of an agent who outrightly accuses her of murder in front of everyone. The audacity is…. Oddly arousing, firmly planting itself in her consciousness, too difficult to be ignored.
It wouldn’t hurt too bad if she hadn’t liked Donald Ressler, but truth be told, she did like him and she had hoped that he could have been one of her friendly associates. The first time she met him, she was pleasantly surprised with his charming smile and masculine good looks. Pretty handsome for an agent. Of course, she had met her share of good-looking ones throughout her career and work. But Donald Ressler, presented quite the enigma. Speaking with a strong sense of conviction and pride about his work, in a room full of high-ranking officials against the Director of Clandestine, of all persons, definitely takes a lot of balls. And the way he confronted her and dismissed the Director after turning up at the nick of time to take away Keen at the Post Office, would have been outrageous if it hadn’t been ridiculously hot. It has been a long time since a subordinate challenged her authority and power, and looked good while doing it.
As Hitchin retraced back and tried to remember her conversations with Agent Ressler, she couldn’t help thinking of his initial naïve trustworthiness – all lost thanks to one Reven Wright. What she did not expect though was Agent Ressler’s undaunted conviction when he directly confronted her. She would not normally pay much attention to threats, more so from someone beneath her, but she was perturbed by his conviction as if he had witnessed the murder himself.
And then it dawned on her…Tommy Markin..
Reven Wright said it right before she died, and she had asked Agent Ressler about it. That had to be it. She could not recall any other vital information related to both Reven and Ressler. That was the only connection. Hitchin remembered the look on his face for a split-second, when she dropped the name, before he schooled it back and denied knowing anything about it. That was it – that was what gave her away, although she has no idea how.
Hitchin picked up her phone and dialled a number.
“Nick, get me everything you can on a Tommy Markin. And keep this confidential. Pass any information to me directly, no records, no one else involved.”
@@@@@@@@@@
“Miss Hitchin, this is all I managed to find on Tommy Markin.” Nick handed over the file that he had painstakingly put together over the past few days. It hadn’t been easy digging up an old case, and putting together the pieces based on his conversations with the officers at the local police dept and old witnesses. But as a Secret Service agent with special instructions from the NSA went a long way in pulling the right strings.
“Go ahead.” Hitchin gestured to Nick to have a seat and proceeded to go through the file.
“Tommy Markin was a detective at the Detroit Police Department who went missing in 1996. No one knows what happened to him, and he remains a missing person to date. Prior to him missing, there were some rumours of him and a few others being involved in a staged shooting of his partner, Robert Ressler. He was suspected…”
“Wait, what is the name of his partner again?” Hitchin had stopped looking at the file and stared intently at Nick.
“Robert Ressler, ma’am.”
“I see…carry on.” Hitchin placed the file on the table. She clasped her hands on her crossed knees and leaned back.
“Like I said, he was rumoured to be a dirty cop, involved with the local drug group, but the allegations didn’t really stick due to lack of evidence or witnesses.”
“Tell me about his disappearance.”
“That’s the thing, no one seems to know what happened to him. Some said he took off, with the dirty money, some others think he could have been killed by the drug traffickers he was dealing with.”
“And when did this happen?”
“Shortly, after his partner’s death, the day before his funeral, actually.”
Hitchin took a moment to collect her thoughts. Her mind was racing wildly. She knew that Agent Ressler’s father was a Detroit police officer and he was killed in the line of duty. This must the Ressler Snr, then. Why did Agent Ressler denied knowing the name, his father’s partner? Could it be true that the shoot-out that killed his father was really staged by Tommy Markin, his partner? Did Agent Ressler believed Tommy Markin to be responsible for his father’s death? Did he tell Reven Wright the same story?
It makes complete sense now why Reven Wright dropped Tommy Markin’s name as she breathed her last and Agent Ressler caught the underlying significance. They both knew Tommy Markin to be a dirty cop who betrayed his own partner. The same way she betrayed Reven. That is how Agent Ressler figured it out, that she killed Reven. Hitchin’s lips stretched into a thin tight line as she shook her head. She had dug her own grave by repeating back Reven’s last words to Agent Ressler. Damn Reven and her last words. Damn Ressler and his needless shrewdness.
“Okay, thank you Nick. Keep me updated if you hear anything, anything further about this Tommy Markin. That’ll be all.”
@@@@@@@@@@@
Hitchin hated having to go to the ground to get what she wants. She would rather order her underlings, well-placed in almost all law enforcement agencies and judiciary to do what needs to be done. But she does love coming to the Post Office once a while. It is quite fun to catch a glimpse of her favourite agent in action rescuing the world, get him all riled up, screaming bloody murder at her and yet remaining helpless to do a damn thing. He definitely was throwing a fit when Cooper handed over the thumb drive to her with the trove of invention ideas.
As she stood in the lift for the door to come down, Hitchin looked up to find Agent Ressler’s ice blue eyes boring into her. Her cheeks felt flushed as she thought, A fine specimen, fine specimen indeed. Hitchin smiled back as the lift door came down.
A few weeks later, she received a phone call from Nick urging for a hasty meeting.
“Something new has cropped up on the Tommy Markin case.”
At the guesthouse, Nick took out some photos and laid them on the table for Hitchin.
“What am I looking at?” Hitchin asked as she surveyed the photos.
“The remains of Tommy Markin.”
Hitchin’s head snapped back, eyes widening with surprise.
“An excavation at an abandoned field near his home exposed the remains wrapped in a rug. The badge found was Tommy Markin’s. What do you want me to do?”
Hitchin put down the photos and straightened up. Running her hands through her hair, Hitchin tilted her head and queried further, “How many people know about this?”
“For now, just the excavator driver, patrol cop and the officer that I had put on the lookout at the station. He managed to put a lid on it from going further up. Told me soon as the report was made.”
“Good. Good. Look, this has to be kept quiet. Throw at them whatever it takes, national security, money, whatever you need from me. Here’s what I need you to do.”
Picking up one of the photos, Hitchin’s lips stretched into a thin smile. “I have a very good feeling about this.”