The Most Wanted Men
“You know, I once shared a bottle of absinthe with a Serbian arms dealer who swore The Blacklist was just a clever front for actual intelligence leaks. He was mostly wrong — but charmingly so.”
Welcome to The Most Wanted Men, a podcast devoted to peeling back the layers of intrigue, betrayal, and designer coats that make The Blacklist such a guilty pleasure. Join our hosts — two very opinionated amateurs with nothing better to do — as they explore the cases, conspiracies, and quirks of Raymond “Red” Reddington’s criminal concierge service of doom.
We’re not here to recap. No, no. We’re here to obsess, to question, to rant lovingly about overlooked plot points and the sheer audacity of a man who disappears into a monastery one week and drops acid in the Louvre the next.
Spoilers? Constant.
Accuracy? Occasional.
Charm? Relentless.
So pour a glass of something expensive, burn your aliases, and press play.
You’re on the list now.
The Most Wanted Men
The Alchemist (No. 101)
Send an Encrypted Message to the Men
You see, there are people in this world, Harold, who don’t just want to disappear — they want to evaporate. And when the usual bag of tricks won’t cut it, they call in a man of… let’s say peculiar talents. The Alchemist. No, not the Paulo Coelho kind, unfortunately. This one doesn’t deal in spiritual growth or metaphor. He deals in genetic manipulation and the ultimate vanishing act: making people untraceable by changing their very DNA. Charming, really.
The task force, bless their hearts, discovers that this biochemical Houdini has been hired to protect a high-level mob informant and his wife by faking their deaths. Except — plot twist — the people burned alive in that car? Yeah. Not the people everyone thought. Just an unlucky couple who were modified to match the victims’ DNA. Think of it as a homicidal version of “Trading Places.”
Meanwhile, dear Agent Keen is still elbow-deep in her own personal cold case: Who the hell is Tom? Is he a schoolteacher or a sleeper agent? The mystery thickens, like a good demiglace. She finds a key that opens a mysterious safe deposit box. And what’s inside? Oh, just surveillance photos of her with Tom. Romantic, no? Nothing says “I love you” like high-resolution espionage.
As for me, well, let’s just say I’ve got my own reasons for dangling the Alchemist in front of the Bureau like a shiny red apple. I give them a taste, they take a bite, and the next thing you know, they’re begging for the recipe. There’s always an angle, Harold. Always.