Cold open – Liz is dead. But we know she isn’t, of course, even while we might wonder, y’know, would it really be so bad for the show if she were…? Anyway. Back twelve hours, and there’s a super-assassin called Wendigo – not this week’s Blacklister, mind you – after Liz. He’s not in it for the money, explains Red; he’s driven by a sense of vigilante justice. Except… well, he is in it for the money: there’s a Darknet bounty on Liz’s head. It’s been funded online by the haters, no longer just content with hating; they’re going to crowdfund a killing. To get Liz’s name off the website she and Red are going to have to find Arioch Cain, who put her on there in the first place. And he is this week’s Blacklister.
But they’re interrupted by Mr Vargas, who is all, come and see Dembe. As we know, it’s a trap; I was amazed that Red fell for it, but perhaps he has other things on his mind. Anyway, he and Liz are seized by Solomon. “What is the deal with you two anyway? It’s what everybody wants to know!” he metas. Fortunately Dembe has enough juice in the tank to come in, gun in each hand, just before Liz gets torture-porned. Then Red stages Liz’s death to draw Arioch Cain out: successfully, as it happens, even if this storyline went out with a bit of a whimper.
Meantime Tom is off in a plot world of his own, befriending last week’s rich kid Asher Sutton and his girlfriend. Girlfriend is up to something, I’d say, but that has to keep for a week or two, because some bad Russians – them again – are extorting money from Asher because he wouldn’t take a dive at rich kid fight club, or something. Tom under-reacts heroically by killing the Russian thug point man, presumably on the basis that he wants to draw some flies. Asher looks horrified, as does Girlfriend, who I think might be feigning. It’s entertaining enough, I suppose, and as ever The Blacklist is better with Tom.
Less promising is Ressler’s storyline, which seems to suggest that The Cabal is going to be around to delight us for a while yet: he testifies before a Presidential commission, but the upshot is that David Strathairn’s character, on whom I’ve never quite been able to get a handle, but who now seems to be the director of the CIA and named Kotsiopulous, persuades them that The Cabal doesn’t exist and that Ressler should be sharing all his lovely Red/Keen intel. Which is a problem, of course, because the Task Force has been doing everything it can to “hunt” the runaways while still giving Red pretty much everything he wants. With Red gratuitously killing characters both recurring and one-off the body-count is refreshingly high, helping to make this a diverting episode, if not a great one.