Burn Notice (2007–2013): Season 6, Episode 8 - Unchained - full transcript

My name is Michael Westen.

I used to be a spy until...

We got a burn notice on you. You're blacklisted.

When you're burned, you've got nothing...

no cash, no credit, no job history.

You're stuck in whatever city
they decide to dump you in.

- Where am I?
- Miami.

You do whatever work comes your way.

You rely on anyone who's still talking to you.

- A trigger-happy girlfriend...
- Should we shoot them?

An old friend who used to inform on you
to the F.B. I...



You know spies. Bunch
of bitchy little girls.

- Family too...
- Hey, is that your mom again?

- If you're desperate...
- Someone needs your help, Michael.

And a down-and-out spy
you met along the way.

That's how we do it, people.

Bottom line. As long as you're burned,
you're not going anywhere.

I know where we can find Anson Fullerton.

- Excuse me?
- He's picking up a package tomorrow in a motel...

in Atlantic City.

Nate, you're the only one
who can get to Anson before he escapes.

Get up. Get up!

- We got him, man.
- It is about time.

Nate!

No. Hey!



Nate!

I just... I just... I know he's busy.

I just want to talk to him about
the investigation into my brother's murder.

As a spy, you get used to dealing...

with government bureaucracy.

If you need to requisition a weapon...

get an interrogation log to an analyst...

or even arrange an emergency evac
from a hostile territory...

a bureaucrat can be your best friend.

It is about the status of the case.

But when you need a simple answer
to a straightforward question...

that same bureaucrat
can become your worst enemy.

No, I don't want to leave another message!

Hello? Hello!

I take it that the F.B. I. Stiff
on the other end of the line...

wasn't very helpful.

You have no idea.

I'm sorry I woke you.

You didn't.

I'm not much of a late sleeper these days.

I guess I'm still on a prison schedule.

You haven't been getting much rest either.

I just got a lot on my mind.

The F.B. I. Will find whoever killed Nate.

- Just might take a while.
- It has been a month, Fi.

And I've heard nothing
about how the case is going.

So start an investigation of your own.

- I will help you.
- No. No, Fi.

You are not getting anywhere near this.

We don't know where this is gonna end,
and I'm not losing anyone else.

I appreciate your concern.

- Fi.
- I can take care of myself.

Just let me deal with it.

If you need to get
information from a government official...

it's often best to approach him
outside his usual place of business.

When he's not in an environment
that reinforces his authority...

you're a lot more likely
to get something out of him.

Especially if you can catch him alone.

Agent Sexton.

I need a word. I'm Michael Westen.

I know who you are.

Look, I know you're anxious
to find out what happened to your brother.

All I can say
is the investigation is ongoing.

I need a little more than that.

You threatening me?

No.

I just need you to tell me
everything you know about this case.

Listen to me very carefully.

I'm gonna walk away.

So are you.

I don't think so.

Tell me everything you know
about my brother's murder.

There's nothing to tell.

File's closed. Case was shut down.

What?

We were working the case.

Then we get word
brass wants to put a lid on it.

No explanation... just end the thing.

You think I was happy about it?

Do we have a problem here?

No, there's no problem.

I was just leaving.

Enjoy your lunch.

Hey, look who's not in jail.

Well, I just got an earful from Langley
about your little stunt.

What the hell were you thinking,
threatening an F.B. I. Agent like that?

I didn't threaten him.

I asked him questions
with a gun in my hand...

a gun I have the right to legally carry.

I did what I had to do.

I'm getting nowhere playing Mr. Nice.

At least I now know
the investigation is dead.

A full investigation into Nate's
death would embarrass a lot of people.

That explains why they took the case
from the Agency.

They never wanted to get
to the bottom of it.

Why didn't you tell me you were doing this?
I could have backed you up.

Trust me.
It wouldn't have made any difference.

Whatever leads the F.B. I. Had
are now in a sealed case file.

Yeah, about that.

Uh, I did some poking around the F.B. I.

Turns out a buddy of a
buddy at the Bureau...

might be willing to share that file...
you know, on the D.L.

But the guy wants our help
on another case in return.

What's the case?

Well, the F.B. I. Has been
looking for this guy...

Brian "The Butcher" Quinn... for a while.

He ran the Dorchester Hill gang
up in Boston before he went on the lam.

It's all the good stuff...
drugs, gambling, murder.

Then the F.B. I. Finally caught a break.

They tracked down Quinn's right-hand man...

James "Jimmy Boy" Leary,
right here in Miami.

Let me guess. They think Quinn must
be hiding under some rock close by.

Yeah. Bingo. Now my F.B. I.
Guy is gonna pick Jimmy up...

and he wants our help
getting Quinn's location out of him.

I mean, the guy is desperate.

He's got a witness at North Miami
General Hospital. Guy's on his last legs.

If you can get that F.B. I. File on Nate's
murder, I can run down leads with Jesse.

Tell your buddy I'm in.

- Thanks.
- Right.

So you two got some way to help me out?

'Cause, um, I am running out of time.

- That your witness?
- Yeah.

Yeah. Kelly Duke.

That's Quinn's former number two...

and my last hope at finding that S.O.B.

He's got less than a week at most...

and if he dies,
my case dies along with him.

Now I flew him down here from Boston...

so the minute I find Quinn,
he takes the stand here in Miami.

Now that only happens if you find Quinn.

I think your best shot is to arrest me
along with Jimmy and then let us escape.

I'll get him to take me to Quinn.

Wait. Escape?

Mike's gonna be wearing
a tracker the whole time.

Look, you want to find Quinn fast,
that's the way to do it.

Fine. All right, when do we start?

It starts as soon as I get the
F.B.I. File...

on my brother's murder investigation.

For a file this big, there's not much here.

No prints, no suspects.

Looks like the F.B. I. Didn't get
very many leads on Nate's murder.

You have any luck?

I think perhaps maybe yes.

The ballistics report
says the sniper rifle used to kill Nate...

was made by Meyerson Industries.

We find that gun, that'd be a good start.

We're not even supposed to
be investigating the case.

We can't just ask them
who they sold their gun to.

Well, not directly, but there are
other ways to get information.

- Like?
- Blackmail.

Just hear me out.
There's a definite angle here.

The V.P. Of sales is the
son of the founder.

He's a blackmailer's dream. Okay?

He's a country club member,
he's got a society wife...

and he loves to, you know, par-tay.

Yeah, but setting up a play like that
could take time.

I'm way ahead of you.

He's gonna be at an industry conference
in Jacksonville.

I'll head up there,
get all buddy-buddy with him...

take him out clubbing,
snap a few racy photos...

He'll tell me about the gun.

I'm not sure I could talk my way out of
that one if the C. I.A. Ever found out.

Right. I said "I," not "we."
I'd be doing it alone.

No, you wouldn't. You'd need support.

I could always attend the conference
on some other Agency business.

- It's way too risky. No.
- Jesse.

You guys were there for
me when I needed it.

I said I wouldn't forget, and I haven't.

I'll have plane tickets
and cover I.D.'s in the morning.

What do you think?

It's my first Boston mobster.

- I want to get it right.
- You look great...

but I still don't think
you need to be front and center on this.

Last I checked, you needed a driver for
this job, and since Sam can't do it...

There's other ways you can help.

- So I can't get hurt.
- I didn't say that.

Yeah, you did. In fact, you've said it
a couple of times now.

There's no reason for you
to take unnecessary risks.

Why don't you let me decide that?

If you're trying to prove
how tough you are...

I'm not trying to prove anything.

We still don't know
what kind of situation we're walking into.

When do we ever?
When has that ever mattered?

Since Nate died!

Look, I know you feel responsible
for what happened to Nate.

You're not.

He volunteered for that mission...

because he wanted
to do something worthwhile...

something good.

Because that's who he was.

Because he was a Westen.

I'm gonna do this because it's who I am.
It's because of who we are.

And you can't change that.
I'll wait for you outside.

Okay, Jimmy Boy's in there...
the 40-footer with the dinghy on top.

I got local P.D. Ready to pick him up...

and a surveillance team
ready to trail the two of you.

No, you won't be tailing us.

I can't risk Jimmy spotting any law
enforcement once we're on the run.

- Great.
- We'll have the tracker.

Which is working like a dream. Just follow the little dot.

You sure Jimmy's not gonna see that thing?

Well, not unless he's got X-ray vision.

I mean, that thing's buried
in Mike's belt buckle.

- You ready, Mike?
- Let's do it.

Okay, let's take this son of a bitch now.

Go, go!

Let's move! Move, move!

That's the best you got? A gun charge?

I'll beat this rap by dinner.

Oh, ho. Look who's hosting the party.

Agent Woods. What a surprise.

Yeah, good to see you too, Jimmy Boy.

Yeah, it's deja vu all over.

That's French for "talk to my lawyer,"
just like last time.

You trust me. It will
be different this time.

- Doyle, scoot over.
- Oh, no can do, boss.

My ass took a wicked snooze.

Think you could kiss it
and wake it up for me?

- That wake it up?
- Yeah, it did.

Come on.

Don't go anywhere, you two.
We'll be right back.

Yeah, we'll be waiting
on pins and needles for you.

Good job, guys.

You're Jimmy, right? Name's Robbie Doyle.

I got to get a message to Quinn.

Got to make it fast.

Quinn? Don't ring a bell.

Look, we don't got to play this game
with each other, all right?

- Everybody knows...
- Do me a favor.

- Shut up.
- I'll do you that favor. I'll shut up.

Hope you two are comfortable back there.

Got a nice two-hour ride
to federal detention.

What the hell you keep looking at?

That's my girlfriend, Dawn, behind us.

Think she's gonna bust us out.

Hey. Hey, don't be stupid.
You don't want to do that.

You're gonna be giving the feds
an airtight charge, okay?

You just lawyer up,
shut your mouth. Trust me.

Like I said, I got
an urgent message for Quinn.

You know, the guy who don't ring a bell?

Whether you're trying
to run someone off the road...

or just trying to sell that you are...

it all comes down to
the vehicle you use to do it.

- Okay. Here we go.
- You want a light frame...

so you can maneuver faster
than your target...

- Hey, you don't want to do this.
- Too late. Brace yourself.

This is gonna hurt.

And a low center of gravity
so you don't flip.

Choosing the right car can mean
the difference between a clean stop...

and a nasty spill.

And you wanted me
to stay home and do nothing. Hmph!

There. That's what I've
been waiting to see.

Nice driving, hon.

Hey, Jimmy, you coming?
Feds are gonna try to pin this on you.

You might as well go while you can.

No? Fine.

Good luck explaining
that this wasn't your idea.

You're not getting away with this,
Jimmy, so don't even try.

Stay put, Mr. F.B. I. Man...

or I'll blow your head off.

Hey, wait up.

Suspects last seen
heading north on Pine Road.

All units respond immediately.

Well, looks like we got
a pretty big party started.

They're setting up roadblocks
all around the area.

I sure hope your boy Michael
knows what the hell he's doing.

Relax. Tracker says they're getting
to the motel right about now.

Should have ears on them any second.

So where's Quinn? We don't have much time.

Cops are swarming like roaches.
I got to find him now.

Slow down.

Who are you? And what just happened?

Who am I?
I'm, like, a snitch, but for our side.

I got some cops up in
Boston on the payroll.

I hear things from them, and then I sell
that information to guys who need it...

and I got some Grade "A" information
for your pal Quinn.

- Oh, yeah?
- Yeah.

Couple of guys up in Boston said...

that I could get to Quinn through you.

Guess one of them must have blabbed,
because the feds nabbed both of us.

Ha. Lucky for me, Dawn wanted to see
the Sunshine State.

Me and Robbie are like a team.

Even though sometimes
he don't like to admit it.

You say you got information. What is it?

I know where the feds are hiding
the son of a bitch that ratted on Quinn.

- You're talking about Duke?
- Yeah. Duke.

So I got to talk to your boss, like, now.
So where is he?

No, no, no. That ain't the way it works.

You tell me where Duke is,
and I'll take care of the rest.

Yeah. No offense there...

but if I tell you,
nothing stops you from cutting me out.

What, you think I'm taking you to Quinn?
I just met you.

Are you saying you don't trust us?

Busting you out ain't enough?

Forget it, Robbie.

Let's get out of here
before the cops come knocking.

This ungrateful skid
ain't worth the trouble.

Sure. Jimmy can explain to Quinn
how we gift-wrapped Duke up in a bow...

but instead of putting him under a tree,
Jimmy sent him back to Santa.

Hey, all right, all right. Fine.

I'll make a call.

- Set up a meet.
- Okay. You hear that?

Sounds like Quinn's about to crawl
out of whatever hole he's been hiding in.

- Want one last look at the file before you approach Meyerson?
- No, I'm good.

The man is the link
to identifying Nate's murderer.

We can't screw this up.

How hard could it be to convince him
to have a few drinks?

He's a party animal, remember?

Mmm!

Better get a move on.

Looks like he's not staying for happy hour.

Okay.

It's time to get our friend
drunk, frisky and compromised.

Observe.

As far as cold approaches go...

there's nobody spies
would rather deal with than salespeople.

They're talkative, eager to please...

and most meet too many people
in a given year to remember them all.

- Oh!
- Excuse me.

No.

Oh, my God.

Meyerson, you son of a bitch.
How you doing, man?

It's good to see you.

You... You don't remember me.

You d... Mark.

Mark Thompson. Atlanta convention?

Crazy, crazy night?

You bought me a drink. You know what?

I'm gonna return the favor.
I'm gonna buy you some drinks right now.

No, sorry. I can't. I'm, uh,
feeling a little under the weather, Mark.

I'm gonna try to sleep it off
before tonight's meetings.

- Thanks for the offer though.
- Yeah, yeah.

And no matter what a
salesman has going on...

No, it's cool. I'll just...

I'll call your purchasing guy on Tuesday.

They can't bear
to offend a potential customer.

You're a buyer?

I do all the contracting work
with the Pentagon.

We talked about this, man.
You seriously don't remember me?

No, no, no, no.

Of course I do.

- Mark.
- Mark.

Okay.

Just a drink. I'll introduce
you to some of my sales guys.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

When I owe a man a drink,
I owe a man a drink...

and we're not getting it at the hotel bar.

- You understand me? You're coming with me, buddy.
- What...

Nope, nope. It's go time.

Setting up a blackmail is about more...

than knocking your target out and snapping
pictures of things he won't remember.

It starts much earlier,
with all the things he will remember.

You need to make sure
that by the time you knock him out...

he's ready to actually believe
that he did anything.

Oh!

So glad I ran into you, Mark.

Yeah, what are the chances, right?

Crap.

What's up? What's wrong?

It's my secretary.
I've got a sales meeting in a half hour.

- No.
- I should go.

No, you don't. No, no, no. You're gonna
miss the best part. No. Excuse me, ma'am.

Yes, you. Yes, you.

With the... Yes.

My buddy here would like
to have a, uh, closer look at your goods.

- Oh.
- Thank you very much.

Yes.

Once it's time to spike
your target's drink...

the important thing is to control the dose.

You better get in there.

Mix too much sedative with alcohol...

and you shut down the part of the brain
that controls the heart and lungs...

which means your target won't be sleeping,
he'll be dead.

All right, man.

A toast...

to new business, old friends and strippers.

- Hell, yes.
- Hell, yes.

- Whoo.
- Mmm!

I think it's time
for a little V. I.P. Treatment.

One lappy, one song,
and you're on your way, I promise.

- Come on.
- Sure, why not?

Whoo, hoo, hoo.

Do not go easy on him.

- Come on, bad boy.
- Go.

- Yes.
- Oh, yeah.

- Yeah, Jesse.
- Hey. All systems go.

Looks like Meyerson's
about to have the afternoon of his life.

All set here.

His love den's ready and wired for sound.

You know what? That's a good thing.

I think we might be heading back
sooner than we thought.

Cop cars are crawling all over the place.

- When do I get to see Quinn?
- We've been here for hours.

How much longer are we gonna have to wait?

As long as it takes.

Well, you might not be for much longer.

Yeah.

Yeah, okay.

I'll tell them.

You're going to see Quinn.

Great. What's the address? I'll go now.

Oh, no. We're all going... together.

But first we need some fresh wheels.

Of course, if boosting a car
is gonna be a problem for you two...

Grand theft auto is my middle name,
right, Robbie?

For as long as I've known her.

There's always a risk
when using a stolen car in an operation...

but there are ways to minimize that risk.

Take it from an employee parking lot
during midday...

and chances are it won't
be missed for hours.

You want an older model
to avoid antitheft devices...

and a common, neutral color
that won't attract attention.

Bang a right up here.

Of course, it doesn't matter
how carefully you choose a car...

if you have to drive it
through a police checkpoint.

All right, turn the car around.
Turn it around now.

Can't. Boxed in.

Crap. Cops must have
blocked off the whole area.

Nice. Your little plan
is about to get us pinched.

Yeah, well, it better not.

- Look, we'll run the roadblock.
- What?

Whoa.

We can pull into that garage.

Might be our best shot at losing the cops.

Especially if they have
a little fire to deal with.

It's them!

There they are! That's our vehicle!

Get down.

Go, go, go!

A car on fire makes a great diversion...

but it takes a few minutes
to get it fully engulfed.

If you don't have much time to spare...

you find the closest burning materials
that will create the most smoke...

like old newspapers and fast-food bags
doused in hand sanitizer.

Stuff them in rolled-up
rubber floor mats...

and you've created a vent
that will focus the flames into one area.

- What the hell is she doing?
- Saving our asses... again.

And the more focused the flames,
the faster everything burns.

Watch yourself!

This thing is getting
completely out of control, Sam.

I did not sign up for a high-speed chase...

setting cars on fire
or putting cops in danger!

You got to have a little faith that Mike
knows what he's doing.

No. No, I don't.

I'm calling in your buddy's position...

and I'm having Jimmy picked up right now.

- This is over.
- Are you crazy? Mike is wearing a tracker.

He's going to meet Quinn, a guy that
no one could sniff out for years.

Let's at least get in the car
and see where this takes us.

No. You had your chance.

You pull the plug, your witness dies,
and Quinn goes free forever.

Is that what you really want?

Better hope your guy is as good
as you think he is.

Check this out.

Guys have funny taste in meeting places.

We walked all that way for this?

I was hoping for some sand between my toes.

You'll have plenty of time
to catch some rays later.

Where's Quinn?

Quinn's not coming to see you.

You're going to see him.

Give me your clothes. Throw these on.

What? Wh-Why my clothes?

Because Quinn got busted by a cop wearing
a microphone in his shoe once. That's why.

I'm not handing over my threads.
They're mad expensive.

Who says you got a choice?

What about my belt?
It's my lucky belt. Can I keep that?

Hey, Robbie.

Your luck's gonna run out real fast...

if you don't start listening to me!

Fine. What about her?

Can she at least change in some privacy?

She keeps her clothes.

Quinn says she ain't going.

She stays with Shane and Dylan.

They'll take good care of her,
long as you play nice.

- That wasn't the deal.
- That's the deal now.

Well, then, the deal's off.

Robbie, I'm fine.

All right.

I want to talk this over
with Dawn, someplace private.

- You talk to her right here.
- No, I'm talking with her in private...

or you're not getting the information.

Shoot me if you want.

Maybe there's something in here
we can use as a weapon.

Michael, you need to go.

I can't leave you here, Fi.
They're taking the tracker.

They're not gonna let
us walk out of here...

and we can't fight our way out either,
at least not yet.

You need to see this through.

I think I can take the two guys
they're leaving me with.

Try to find a way to give me a signal...

when you're ready for me to start the fun.

So you coming?

Last chance.

Hey, Robbie.

Knock 'em dead.

You know I will.

Mike's got to be meeting with Quinn
just up the street here...

maybe in one of these warehouses.

Looks like it's the next
block on the right.

Sam, are you sure this is the spot?

I mean, this is a park,
and there's no one here.

Signal's coming from right over there
where that garbage can is.

Oh, crap.

- Damn it!
- Damn it. We lost them.

A successful blackmail...

depends on the psychological state
of your target.

Leading with your demand...

can risk putting him on the defensive
right from the start.

But if you start by showing him how his
world's about to crash down first...

he'll be looking for the key
to his salvation...

and be more likely
to take it when you offer it to him.

Wake up, sleepyhead.

- Mark?
- What time is it?

- It's 2:00 a.m.
- Oh, God.

- I gotta call my wife.
- No, no. It's okay.

I texted her from your phone...

told her that you had some bad sushi...

and you'll call her
in the morning. You're good.

Oh, God. Thank you.

However, you might not be...

When she sees these.

Man, that Trixie was a fun gal, wasn't she?

- Or is that Cinnamon?
- Oh, my God.

I can't remember. Doesn't matter.

- There was a bunch of them up here.
- Oh, my God.

I know, right?

Why did you take these? What is this?

This is bad, is what this is.

But it doesn't have to be.

No one needs to see these, including your wife.

I can help you with that
if you help me with what I need.

Wait. Are you blackmailing me?

Yeah. But let's not call it that.

Let's call it a potential win-win.

So what do you want?

I want the records of every sniper rifle
you sold in the last 12 months.

Of course,
no blackmail attempt can succeed...

if your target has no
fear of being extorted.

You think you're the first person...

who's ever tried to blackmail me?

There was a girl once
who wanted money from me.

I told her to go to hell.

- You know why?
- Why's that?

Because my father has friends in every
police department in the country...

not to mention every politician
he's personally bankrolled.

One call from him,
and you're in a whole world of hurt.

You need to hear me out on this, man.

I think I've heard enough.

Listen. You walk out that door,
you're gonna regret it.

I don't think so.

No, no. He's right.
You are definitely gonna regret it...

and so will your father,
because if you don't play ball with us...

we won't just ruin you, we'll ruin him.

Who are you?

Someone who knows about
your father's bank accounts...

and I don't mean just the ones
he jots down on his tax returns.

I'm talking about the ones
he uses to grease those friends of his.

All it takes is an anonymous call
to the U.S. Attorney's Office...

and they'll be filing charges...

Okay. Okay. I'll get the records.

Good boy.

Now go clean yourself up.

What the hell are you doing?
You shouldn't have shown your face.

I did what I had to do.

How'd you know about
those bank accounts, anyway?

I didn't.

The passage of time...

is one of the most often-used tools
in counterintelligence.

It allows an adversary to observe you...

and determine whether you've been followed.

Then it's just a matter of
whether they've seen enough...

to make a new acquaintance or a corpse.

Sorry, Robbie,
for the less-than-stellar accommodations.

I don't get a lot of people
just dropping by these days.

It's good to meet you, Quinn. Yeah.

I'd shake your hand, but, you know.

I hear you have some information
on where Kelly Duke...

might be spending his days lately.

Before we get started,
I feel it's only fair to warn you.

You lie to me, my guys put a bullet
through each of your girlfriend's eyes.

Got that?

Good.

Get her on the phone, Jimmy.

You there, darling?

Is Robbie okay?

He's fine and you will be too...

so long as Robbie here is straight with us.

Go ahead, Shane.

That's just a taste. Keep you honest.

Now tell me where
that son-of-a-bitch witness is.

Spies feed enemies
false information all the time.

Sometimes, though,
you have to give up the real thing...

actual intelligence
that puts innocent people in danger.

It's rough rolling the dice
with someone else's life...

but sometimes it's the only play.

Duke is at North Miami General Hospital.

He's under 24-hour police protection.

Jimmy.

Send one of your guys to make sure
our friend's information checks out.

Looks like someone's
getting put down today.

Question is whether it's Duke or your girl.

- So?
- We got Duke.

He's at North Miami General,
just like Robbie said.

I told you the truth.
Now can we get rid of these here?

Jimmy, are you sure Robbie here
ain't playing us?

Quinn, don't be crazy.

Why would he come in here telling us
all about Duke if he wasn't legit?

You're right.

Sorry, Robbie.

When you been running as long as I have...

it does something to your head.

Cut him loose.

Gather your guys and get over
to the hospital.

Take care of this
son of a bitch Duke once and for all.

All right. Hey, what about the cops?

There's two of them
sitting outside his room.

What do you think?

Guess I owe you some money, don't I?

Jimmy said something about you expected
a reward for your information.

I'd appreciate a one-time payment...

but I'm more interested in a more permanent
position with your group...

seeing how you're gonna be
back into the swing of things and all.

What'd you have in mind?

Maybe we could discuss this
somewhere a little more civilized?

I mean, I appreciate the cot and all...

but, uh, I like to talk business over
a nice bottle of scotch.

All right.

Single malt it is.

When you've been
driven to a meeting in a head bag...

figuring out your location
can be a challenge.

If you know how long you
were on the road...

you can use the local speed limits
to calculate a general area...

and if you can get to a window, local
landmarks can narrow it down even further.

Oh, is that downtown across the water?

Nah. Miami Beach.

It's the sort of thing
you learn in the Boy Scouts...

except Boy Scouts rarely do it
with a gun to their back.

Nice neighborhood.

I don't get out much.

Aw, that's a shame.

You got a wicked amazing view here.

You even got a view of that bridge.

Bet it looks nice lit up at night.

What is that?

MacArthur Causeway.

Now, are you here to admire the view
or discuss terms?

Definitely discuss terms.
I just need to talk to my girl first.

- Don't worry about her. She's fine.
- She didn't sound too fine...

when one of your boys
was smacking her around.

Now I get it.
You got to do what you got to do...

but where we come from,
a man takes care of his woman first.

Get me Dylan and Shane on the phone.

- Dylan.
- Yeah.

Put the girl on.

Hi, hon. You all right?

I'm fine, Robbie.

Just a little bruised is all.

There ain't nothing here I can't handle.

Nothing.

- How's everything with you?
- Oh, I couldn't be better, hon.

I'm here at Quinn's place.
You should see it.

Maybe you and I can get a place like this
one day. It's got a view of Miami Beach.

We're right next to the MacArthur Causeway.

It lights up at night. Oh. It is on fire.

- Oh, I can totally see it, baby.
- Yeah, it's beautiful.

Just me, Quinn, couple of his boys
drinking the finest scotch I ever had...

and, uh...

So... Listen, I got to go here
and you got to go there, so...

You just tell me when.
I'm ready, sweetheart.

All right. We'll hang up together.

On three.

One...

Two.

Three.

What the hell?

Come on.

Who the hell are you?

I am just a guy who enjoys
a nice bottle of scotch.

It's Fi.

Fi, thank God.

We were starting to think
you guys were dead.

Yeah, well, don't celebrate yet.
Michael's by himself at Quinn's house.

It's a big place with a view of Miami
Beach, close to the MacArthur Causeway.

You need to get there as fast as you can.

House with a view of Miami Beach
near MacArthur Causeway.

He wasn't more specific?

Well, I'm pretty sure
he said it was gonna be on fire.

House on fire. Okay.
That sounds like Mike. We're on our way.

Place is off MacArthur.
We can be there in 10 minutes.

Let's make it five. We'll take my car.

A good defensive
position is known as a "force multiplier."

Come on. Bust that lock.

One man can hold off three others...

as long as he can remain well-protected...

while keeping up a steady stream
of suppressing fire.

Only problem is doing that
requires a lot of ammunition...

and when it's all gone...

your defensive position
very quickly becomes a death trap.

Now hold on a sec.
I want to talk to this son of a bitch.

You've wasted a lot of bullets
shooting at that door.

Can't last forever.

By my count,
you got one more shot left in that clip.

Do yourself a favor. Give up.

I may trade you back to the cops.
I'm sure they'd want their snitch back.

You're awfully interested in that fire.

Let me guess... Some kind of signal.

Quinn, we're running out of time.
We're coming in.

Tell your boys to back off,
or this will get ugly.

All right.

Taking a hostage is only as effective...

as his relationship with his rescuers.

The more they value his life,
the more leverage you have.

Listen up, boys.

Hey, shut up, shut up, shut up.
He's talking. He's talking.

This bastard's already got the cops coming.

It's over.

Of course, if your hostage
doesn't value his own life...

all bets are off.

But I'd rather die
than go back to the joint...

so kill this son of...

- If you shoot in there...
- You heard him. It's what he wants.

Let's finish this.

Go, go, go!

Okay. Stop. Stop!

You don't even have the guts
to kill me yourself.

Should have taken my deal, boy.

Lock and load, fellas. It's time to go in.

Anybody else want some?

Lose the weapons.

You won't be taking any
witnesses out today.

Why don't you fellas slide those guns
over here and take a knee?

Mike. You all right in there?

Mike.

What took you so long?

Told you we'd get him.

Easy peasy.

Well, we don't have the shooter,
but we do have the sniper rifle.

This sale order shows where the gun
was made, when it was shipped...

and then it landed at the Pryon Group.

It's a private security firm upstate.

And whoever took that gun
used it to shoot Nate.

- Yeah.
- Thanks, Jesse.

I'm sorry I couldn't be
more help with this.

Please. I went to a strip club,
snapped a few photos.

From what I hear, you guys went
through hell to make this happen.

Look, I got to get going, but, um,
just call me if you need anything, okay?

He's right.

The job was hell.

But you probably could have
managed it without me.

- Fi.
- No.

You really didn't need my help.

You can stop now.

I should have just stayed home.

I'm glad that you came.

You know...

I would like to show you something
else that you can't do without me.

If you're thinking of shooting
through the door, please don't.

It's me, Pearce.

- Pearce, I was gonna call and thank...
- Michael, I can't talk long.

Is everything okay?

No. Most definitely not.

The C. I.A. Found out
about my approach to Meyerson.

How?

Meyerson was acting suspicious at home...

his wife noticed, and he came clean to her.

Guess she was upset and blew the whistle...

because eventually it got to the Agency.

They traced it back to me. The C. I.A.
Did send me to that conference, after all.

- I'll call the Agency. I'll take full responsibility.
- No, you won't.

I already told them I was moonlighting
on some corporate espionage work...

for one of Meyerson's competitors.

Needless to say, Langley
wasn't too happy...

but no one knows you're connected.

- I can't let you do this.
- Michael, you can and you will.

Consider this my last order
as your senior officer.

What are you talking
about, your last orders?

I've been reassigned to Mumbai...

part of an anti-counterfeiting task force.

I leave the country in a few hours.

Pearce, you're gonna be
stuck in some room...

examining fake prescription labels
for the rest of your career.

Could have been worse.

They were looking to fill
the ice-station post in Reykjavik.

I have to go.

Just promise me
this won't be for nothing, Michael.

I promise it.