Disclaimer - I don't own the Blacklist and I'm not making any profit from playing with their characters. I'm just trying to pass the time until Super Bowl Sunday.

Red no longer considered himself an honest man, but when compared to the bastards that rad the Eberhardt Cartel he was an angel. He found it repugnant enough that the common practice for controlling their adult victims was forced addiction to narcotics, that plus the fact that they dealt in child prostitution and worse made him want to burn down their entire operation. The problem with that was he wasn't in any position to get away with it. It has only been two years since he was forced to flee on the way home on Christmas Eve with on the clothes on his back and a box of classified documents he'd removed from his office on a hunch. It was only those documents and the threat of releasing them that was keeping him alive.

He sold some of the least important secrets from his stash to get enough funds to start his new criminal enterprise. The U.S. Navy had trained him well. His ability to plan for all contingencies and see his opponents moves far in advance. It didn't hurt that he had a photographic memory and never forgot a face or name.

His dealings with the Eberhardt Cartel brought him here to Nairobi. He was trying to broker a deal between this cartel and a second one call the Mombasa Cartel. Mombasa was able to obtain women and some men for use by Eberhardt in their various brothels around the world. Mombasa was now demanding a significant increase in what they were receiving for each unit provided. If they didn't receive more money they were threatening to start selling to the Eberhardt's rival cartels. Red was trying to reach a compromise that would be satisfactory to both parties. The negotiations have been dragging on for two weeks already. If something didn't change soon he would either need to take more drastic action or give up. Giving up would damage his reputation and would only be done as a last resort. He couldn't afford for anything to damage his burgeoning fame as a man that could get any deal done.

Red had recruited a number of mercenaries already in his short criminal career. Most of them were former soldiers, marines, and Navy seals that he had worked with during his own short Naval career. He was prepared to call in an attack on both cartels to grab someone close to the head of each cartel for use as leverage. He was quickly learning that he had to do some things he never would have considered just a few short years ago.

Tonight's meeting was taking place in one of the Eberhardt brothels. He was getting so tired of trying to convince the two cartel representatives that with a small compromise they would both benefit.

The small room where the meeting was being held felt even smaller due to the number of guards each side felt it necessary to bring with them. He sat a scratched round wooden table with a cartel rep on each side of him.

"Zuka we have gone over this before, there is no way Eberhardt is going to pay you double the current rate per unit. There has been a much higher rate of sick and starved units included in your last number of deliveries. They have had to bear the added costs of getting them well enough to work. To ensure their continued access to your stock, they are willing to increase their payment per unit by 33% for adults and 25% for minors. That is a significant increase and much more than you would get from their competition." Red explained to the Mombasa rep.

Zuka sneered when Red mentioned the condition of those recently sold to Eberhardt. What did they expect? Did they think all of their captives volunteered to be sold into slavery or that they were captured without a fight?

"The merchandise is delivered in good enough condition to perform their duties. How difficult is it to just lay there and spread their legs anyway?" Zuka said with a cruel laugh.

Red really wanted to just shoot Zuka and get rid of his crude company. The problem with that is the negotiations would need to start over and he'd be doing them for free this time.

"Mr. Reddington has correctly stated our final terms. We require the quality of the merchandise improve before we will ever consider increasing our payment to more than 33%. If the quality continues to deteriorate we will seek alternative sources for our merchandise." Andrew the Eberhardt cartel rep replied.

This statement kicked off another round of yelling and threats from both sides. Red called an end to the meeting and strode angrily from the room. He quickly made his way back to the set of rooms set aside for his use.

He slammed the door to his suite and immediately poured himself a drink from the small bar located in the corner of the living area. He took a sip from his glass while walking into the suite's bedroom. He was tired of dealing with this scum. As bad as he had become he'd found that he still could look down on these types of criminals.

His earlier thoughts of finding some leverage to move these negotiations along was becoming more and more appealing. It was obvious these two were never going to agree to terms on their own. He picked up his satellite phone and gave the order to locate and retrieve the predetermined targets.

It took his men a couple of days to grab Zuca's song and Andres's youngest daughter. Red spent this time with a lovely American woman he'd met at a bar a few miles from the brothel. He didn't have anything against paying for sex when it was his only option, but he drew the line at paying for sex with a prostitute that didn't have any say in what they were doing.

Once he had received notice that the hostages were safely ensconced in a local village in Sierra Leone, Red called for another negotiation session.

This session proved quite profitable. When Red told them that he was the person holding their children hostage each group quickly agreed to the 33% increase. The Mombasa rep also acceded to the requirement that each person they sold would be in good health. If they were not delivered healthy the agreed upon cost to Eberhardt would be what they were currently paying. A copy of the signed agreement was provided to each party and the meeting ended with Red's assurance that his hostages would be released within the week. Red wanted to make sure he had enough time to get out of Nairobi while the hostages were still being held. This precaution would keep either side from deciding to make him pay for his actions with his life.

It was too late after the meeting for Red to fly on to Paris. He would need to spend an additional night in the city.

He'd managed to fend off the nightly offer of female companionship free of charge. The brothel owner was grateful for his help in reaching an agreement and thought of his offer as a great bonus to the cash he was receiving. After refusing for what seemed like the millionth time, he was offered his choice of male companionship. The owner's thought being that if he was turning down girl after girl the only answer could be that he was gay. Instead of trying to make him understand how he felt about unwillingly bedmates, he simply turned down this offer as well.

Red found it impossible to sleep. He was so anxious to get out of here he couldn't shut his mind off. He got out of bed, made sure all his bags were packed, then decided to take a look around the areas in the building he hadn't explored during the busy day and evening hours.

He avoided any of the rooms on the second and third floor. These were the rooms where all the brothels business took place. The third floor was where and special requests were accommodated. He knew this was much more than simple BDSM and as much as he enjoyed kinky sex, he didn't want to know too much of what went on up there.

He took the stairs down to the first floor. The decor on the first level was classic brothel. The walls were covered in red velvet like wallpaper and the lights were always dim. Besides the "reception" area there was a large room off of the reception area where all the available men, women and children sat awaiting a customer to make their choice. In the other corner of the first floor was a bar area that often held the friends of customers that didn't want to partake in the business of the house.

Red didn't find anything on the first floor to interest him. He located another set of stairs leading down another level to the basement hidden behind a door in the kitchen. He opened the door and started down the stairs.

The basement was dimly lit by a single bulb hanging precariously from the rooms ceiling by a single thin wire. He was almost to the foot of the stairs when he realized that he wasn't alone. Chained to a standpipe in a corner of the room was a teenage boy. The boy was in bad shape. Red saw bruises on his face and peppered all over his ribs and back. He also saw what looked like untreated burns. It was obvious the boy hadn't eaten in days. Red was sure that he wouldn't be able to stand without the aid of the pipe to which he was chained. When he reached the floor of the basement and was standing a few short feet away the boy raised his head and looked at Red with defiance radiating from every pore.

"Do you speak English?" Red asked without really expecting an affirmative answer. He was surprised when the boy nodded his head yes.

"What is your name?"

"Dembe" the boy answered in a hoarse voice.

"When was the last time you had anything to drink Dembe?" Red asked while looking around for a sink of any kind.

"I don't know a few days I think."

Red finally located a small dirty sink in the corner of the room. There were no cups to be found, but he did finally manage to find an old empty beer bottle on a shelf. He took it to the sink and rinsed it out as best he could. After filling the bottle with water he walked over to the boy. With his hands chained there was no way he'd be able to drink on his own.

"I'm going to help you here. You can't drink this all at once you'll only get sick, so I'll only give you a little at a time. I'm not doing this to tease or torment you. Do you understand? I will give you as much water as you like once I know you'll be able to keep it down." Red said before bringing the bottle to Dembe's lips.

After only a few sips Red pulled the bottle away. Dembe made an involuntary noise of protest. Red simply looked him in the eyes and waited for him to calm down again.

"I know you want more, but you won't thank me if you throw it all back up. Just another minute or so and I'll give a little more." Red told the boy as kindly as he could.

After a couple of more minutes it appeared that he would be able to start giving Dembe more water without worry. He again held the bottle to the boys mouth and allowed him to drink as much as he'd like. Red only pulled the bottle away when it was empty.

"Tell me Dembe why are you chained up down here?"

Dembe looked like he didn't want to answer, but he appeared to decide that he had nothing to lose by answering his question.

"I got tired of being forced to work in the rooms upstairs. I beat up my last customer. Then the bosses here decided to put me down here, they intend to leave me here until I die. I only see someone when they come down to beat me again or a former customer comes down to use me again." Dembe answered in a low voice with an accent that Red couldn't place immediately.

Red was finding himself angrier than he had been in years. The Eberhardt cartel was even more evil than he'd realized. This boy was tall and very muscular. He must have caused a great deal of damage to his last tormenter. He also suspected that what Dembe said was true, they'd leave him here until he was dead.

"How old are you Dembe?"

"I'm 14."

While Red thought that Dembe was still a teenage he would have put his age at 16 or 17, not 14.

"How long have you been forced to work as a prostitute?" Red wasn't sure he really wanted to hear the answer.

"I was taken from my village after my family was killed, I was six." Dembe's voice had gotten quieter and quieter with each answer.

Red wanted to go upstairs grab his gun and start mowing down every cartel member he found. The only thing stopping him was that he'd be killed and Dembe would never get out of here.

"Dembe I'm going to go back to my room upstairs and get my bags. I'll then come back down here and set you free. I can get you out of Nairobi and back to your village if that is where you want to go. You said your family was killed, do you have anyone to stay with in your village?"

Red could see the disbelief warring with hope in the boy's eyes. He doubted Dembe had little or nothing to hope for in the last eight years. He would keep his promise to the boy. It's been a long time since he'd done something so selfless. He hoped he was able to accomplish this without paying a painful cost like last time. He turned around and climbed the stairs heading out of the basement.

It took surprisingly little time to grab his bags and make his way back to the basement. He quickly picked the lock on chains keeping Dembe prisoner. After allowing the boy time to drink another bottle of water Red let him lead the way out of a back exit from the brothel. Dembe had insisted on helping Red carry his bags out. Red made sure he kept hold of the bag containing his payment for the services he'd rendered.