Elementary (2012–…): Season 2, Episode 3 - We Are Everyone - full transcript

Sherlock is hired by a shady Belgian 'clients consortium' to find Ezra Kleinfelter, who fled from his civil contractor employer with sensitive information. The sole journalist to whom he gave the documents is found murdered in her apartment. Ezra stayed there but is missing again, having left things he must have had in an abandoned cold war nuclear shelter. Meanwhile Sherlock's home and computers are targeted by the hacking cyber-activists collective, Everyone, but he manages to beat them at their own game.

It's weird to think
that everyone on this street,

everyone in this city,

Who is Ezra Kleinfelter?

What kind of man puts his country's
secrets out there for anybody to read?

Buddy?

We're here.

- Sorry. Got distracted.
Uh-huh.

Sorry, sir. Your card is being declined.

My God.

They froze my accounts.

They know.

You got another card? Cash?

Hey. Hey, hey, get over here.

Hey!

Hey, over here!

Over here! He went that way!

Devon. Devon, give that ball back.
That's not your ball.

Okay.

- That's good running.
- Ha-ha-ha.

I don't know why you volunteer
to come here.

It's like Lord of the Flies.

All right, let me just make sure
everything is cool.

Jewel heist?
Mad bomber on the loose?

No, there's no crime.
Sherlock quizzes me sometimes.

- It's part of the work.
- Quizzes you about what?

Dollhouse.

- Cute.
- Yeah, Sherlock built it.

Is that doll supposed to be dead?

Heh. It's a way to practice
flash analysis of crime scenes.

Suicide by prescription meds?

Huh. Who knew?

So are you getting
any real-world time?

Uh, this is... This is pretty much it.

You know, as cool as it is,

you spend your time
chasing thieves and murderers.

You live with your business partner.

It might be a good idea
to carve out some time

for, you know, regular stuff.
Keep your options open.

Wow, that's a whole family
of dead dolls.

Yeah. It's ghastly.

"No foul play." Uh...

Keep my options open?
What is that, what, about dating?

Okay, no, put that down.

I know it's not your birthday for a while,
but happy birthday.

What is this?

- TrueRomantix.
- What?

It's a horrible name.
It's a great site, from what I hear.

Got you a six-month membership.

- Oh, my God.
- I even filled out the profile for you.

Use it, don't use it, up to you.

But, you know, use it.

I meet people, you know.
My life is not that weird.

Oh, my God.

Staged suicide, obviously.

No one sticks their head
in the oven anymore.

Shut up. Please.

If you're gonna interrupt
my coffee time,

you could at least make the questions
more challenging.

You must tell me
how he became so skilled.

Do you train with him?

Train? I didn't even realize
we had a backgammon board.

One can't bend the dice to one's will.

Ah, good. Watson.

I see you've met Mr. Mueller
of Brussels.

Sort of.

Mr. Mueller arrived
shortly after you left

and has refused to state his business
until all parties were present.

So...

state your business.

You're no doubt aware
that four days ago

a civil contractor
by the name of Ezra Kleinfelter

leaked a dossier of national secrets
to the media.

It is believed that he is sitting
on more such information.

Yes, I vaguely recall
the incessant media coverage.

I represent a consortium
of like-minded citizens,

and we are concerned
about Mr. Kleinfelter's safety.

We think that certain of the parties
that are pursuing him

have something other than a fair trial
in mind.

You're worried
someone's gonna kill him?

Your work comes highly recommended
by the Damery Corporation.

- Hmm.
- We would like you to join

in the pursuit of Mr. Kleinfelter.

If and when you find him,
we would like you to deliver him to us,

and we will in turn
bring him to an embassy

that has promised
to provide safe haven until trial.

Now, I understand that Mr. Kleinfelter's
actions are controversial.

So if you'd like a small window
of time

to research the group
that I represent...

No, that won't be necessary.
We'll take the case.

If you'll excuse us, Mr. Mueller.

My associate,
she gets rather grumpy

if she doesn't take
her midmorning nap. Heh.

We will be in touch
when we have secured Mr. Kleinfelter.

- Thank you both very much.
- Thank you.

Yes? Really?

Sounds like
aiding and abetting a fugitive.

Mm. Excellent.
I took that while you distracted him.

Good enough likeness,
don't you think?

What are you gonna do with that?

I once helped a Lebanese agoraphobe
retain copyright

on a piece
of facial-recognition software.

I'm not saying
the young lady owes me billions,

but I do think she can analyze
my portrait for me.

I took the case
because I want to put Mr. Mueller,

or whatever his name is, at ease.

We are going to follow him
and divine his nefarious plans,

so we don't want his hackles up.

Mueller's not his real name?

No Belgian is that bad
at backgammon.

Of course Mueller has nefarious plans
for Kleinfelter.

Why else the ruse?

I'm not arguing that he's a good guy.
Can you just stop saying "nefarious"?

That's like 15 times
in the last ten minutes.

My agoraphobe responds.

Yep, there are no recent photos
of anyone

matching our man on public record.

But the orbital ridge doesn't lie.

I give you Elliot Honeycutt,

as he looked when he entered
Officers' Candidate School in 1975.

He entered the Q course
for Special Forces training

right after he graduated.

He was discharged in '88

and went to work as a systems analyst
for Everwood Communications.

Since exposed by the Sentinel
as a CIA front.

Currently VP
of Corporate Counterintelligence at...

Redding Enterprises.

Same contractor that until recently
employed Ezra Kleinfelter.

How did you know that?

Redding.

That man is not looking
to bring Ezra Kleinfelter to justice.

He's looking to eliminate him.

"Kleinfeltarianism." Catchy name.

Turns out that most of Ezra's thoughts
on a broken world

have to do with how he can't get a date
with his neighbor.

That and a bunch
of Ayn Rand quotes.

Philosopher in chief
to the intellectually bankrupt.

Hey, we never talked about
what we're gonna do with him.

We are going to gather data on him,

and we're going to use that data
to extrapolate his whereabouts.

No, I'm talking about after that.

I mean,
Ezra exposed some pretty terrible stuff.

Some people think he's a hero.

Yet some would like to see him hung
from the nearest yardarm.

You're asking where I stand?

I'm fairly certain
that he doesn't deserve to be stalked

and possibly executed
by his former employers.

It's funny.

Most leakers, they tend
to release their information

to multiple sources
at the same time.

It's the best way to ensure
that it is disseminated.

But Kleinfelter dealt exclusively
with one journalist,

Celia Carroll of the Dispatch.

I wonder why.

Oh.

Well, she looks like that.

Could have something to do with it.

I've already talked to everybody
in this city who carries a badge.

- Who are you guys again?
- Sherlock Holmes. Joan Watson.

We are consultants
with the N.Y.P.D.,

although our interest in this matter
is private.

Okay. Well, I'll tell you
what I told everyone else.

But I'm doing an on-camera soon,
so this has to be quick.

I haven't heard from Ezra.

I've no idea where he is.

Before your story came out,
did he tell you what his plans were?

Well, sure, he planned
to leave the country before I published,

but that got scotched
when Redding figured out

he'd been downloading
classified material.

Everything got pushed up.
Ezra had to go into hiding.

Do you think
he has a romantic interest in you?

Judging by his writings,
you're exactly his type.

You're bespectacled, you're lean

and yet possessed
of an alluring curve of flank.

Possessed of...?
Look, you know what? Never mind.

The couple of times
we met face-to-face, it never came up.

So you no longer consider him
your source?

You have no reason to believe
he'll get in touch with you?

I already told you,
I don't know where he is.

I'm not looking
to help anybody find Ezra,

but even if I were, I'd be
the last person he'd get in touch with.

You'd think someone that ambitious
would be a better liar.

Hmm.

You made sure to ask her
where Ezra is a second time.

She leaned back, crossed her arms.

When someone who's not used
to lying is forced to repeat it,

they resort to defensive posture.

Miss Carroll has been in touch with
Kleinfelter, but she's done it in a way

which has eluded the attention
of those observing her.

We're going to have
to analyze her movements.

Determine
how they're communicating.

We're about to sit around
for a very long time, aren't we?

Miss Carroll will give
an interview to anyone with a camera.

This is her fifth one today.
No sign of fatigue.

Do you think we're cut off
from the world?

You know, neither of us dates.
Neither of us really goes out much.

At all, actually.

We're not cut off from the world.

We're engaged in creating one
that's actually worth living in.

One that addresses our needs entirely
and eliminates everything extraneous.

Well, my friend signed me up
for this dating website,

and I think
I'm gonna put my profile up.

You know, so be nice
if I bring anyone around, okay?

Won't be an issue.

Oh. Our journalist tears herself away
from her adoring public.

Why won't it be an issue?

Because you won't actually
bring anyone around.

I've lived most of my life
with the firm conviction

that romantic love is a delusion.

It's a futile hedge
against the existential terror

that is our own singularity.

Then I met someone
who calls herself Irene Adler,

and that forced me
to reexamine those convictions.

She, of course,
turned out to be a criminal.

Never really discussed
how that made you feel.

I feel liberated.

I am, now and forever, post-love.

And, as such,
I'm free to pursue a life of meaning.

Oh, how very droll.

So the security guard
is her conduit to Ezra.

We need to learn how he's connected.

A look through his phone
should do the trick.

Yeah, think he's just
gonna give us his phone?

No, of course not.
I'm gonna pickpocket it.

Of course, because you know how
to pick pockets.

It's a fascinating art. It's all to do
with establishing trust and eye contact.

Oh, I'll just have
to take your word for it.

Good. And you'll need this back.

You just stole that phone.
Why are you nuking it?

Because it couldn't be more dangerous
if it was fashioned from liquid Ebola.

Hector, the security guard, it seems,
is a man of hidden enthusiasms.

In his spare time, he frequents
a website called Jamaica Quay.

It's a gathering place
for identity thieves,

intellectual-property pirates,
other cyber-highwaymen.

And judging by his posts
and his private messages,

Hector is affiliated with the collective
that calls itself "Everyone."

Oh, yeah,
the hackers from the news.

They prefer to describe themselves
as cyber activists, but yes.

It seems that Hector
and his associates

have taken up the banner
of Mr. Kleinfelter.

They're committed
to getting him to safety.

Hector has received a number
of communiqués

from someone who calls himself
"Defenestrator."

They're speaking in code,
but I'm quite certain

that Defenestrator
is harboring Ezra Kleinfelter.

Hmm.

So, what are we supposed to do?

Just look up "Defenestrator" in
the phone book and we're good to go?

Well, you are closer to
a productive thought than you realize.

Jamaica Quay is anonymous.

So you can't simply trace
the user name Defenestrator

to an actual person. You need to wait
for them to reveal themselves.

In other words, you plan on arguing

- on the Internet all night?
- Yes.

I think
I'm just gonna take this upstairs.

I put Clyde in your bed in an effort
to be a more considerate flatmate.

I've decided not to wake you at dawn
unless absolutely necessary.

So you used your pet turtle
as an alarm clock?

And circumstances have dictated
that I violate the spirit of my resolution.

It's been an eventful night.

Defenestrator has proved
to be a canny piece of quarry.

During the course of the debate,

she revealed that she lives
within a three-block radius

of the building that used to house
Ruben's Delicatessen.

- She?
- That was around 2 a.m.

I spent the rest of the night

coaxing an employee
of Saturnware Computers

into trying to reveal
who within that radius

recently purchased
high-end equipment

suitable enough for hacking.

Vanessa Hiskie.

That's who's hiding Ezra Kleinfelter.

Vanessa?

Vanessa Hiskie?

Before you throw the last tumbler,

you might want to pause
to consider the beauty of this moment.

We're about to succeed

where the combined wits of a dozen
or so federal agencies have failed.

Remind me again what cloistered,
shriveled things our lives are.

Ezra Kleinfelter?

Sherlock.

There are skin fragments
beneath her fingernails.

I'm confident those will yield
the attacker's DNA.

So argument gone bad.

And according to you,
Ezra Kleinfelter's been hiding out here?

We haven't found
any concrete evidence

that she had a guest, but yes.

Considering this place
wasn't broken into,

it would have to make him a suspect.

I mean, I don't get it.
The whole world's looking for this guy,

she's willing to put him up,
and he kills her?

He didn't set out to kill her.

No, something went wrong
between them.

Most likely
a spurned romantic overture, yes.

Kleinfelter grew insistent,
Miss Hiskie resisted...

We needn't have a Socratic dialogue,
because we have DNA.

Well, actually, we don't.

Kleinfelter doesn't have any priors.

I just double-checked with ViCAP.

He was fingerprinted
for his security clearance,

but he doesn't have a DNA sample
on file.

So in the messages that she passed
on to that reporter, Vanessa Hiskie,

did she never refer to Kleinfelter
by name?

Excuse me.
Did you find that book in this box?

Yeah. It was in the closet. Why?

Ezra Kleinfelter's favorite author.

Half the college kids in the country
have that book.

Yes, but Vanessa's bookshelf
is in her bedroom.

Why would she leave
this one book out

in this box along with, uh,

a map of New York,
a travel guide to Venezuela,

a compass
and an unopened box of crackers?

Ezra didn't hook up with Everyone
until a couple of days

after he was on the run, so he had to
be hiding somewhere during that time.

I think he brought this box with him
when he came here.

Let's get the word out that Kleinfelter
is a person of interest in a homicide.

Please. I need a moment free
from the Internet.

I'm trying to drag myself away,

but the people I'm in conflict with
are too infuriating to ignore.

- Oh, you're still fighting with people?
- I've been monitoring Jamaica Quay.

It's frequented
by members of Everyone,

so there's a chance one of them
knows where Ezra is hiding.

But I have, of course,
been drawn into a debate

as to whether Mr. Kleinfelter,
murder suspect,

is the victim
of a government frame-up.

Are governments capable of evil?

Yes, of course they are.
All institutions are.

But they're more capable
of incompetence.

That's good. I should post that.

What are you doing?

I'm looking at profiles of guys
who winked at me on TrueRomantix.

I weep
for the whole desperate lot of you.

Hello.

Hi. I'm calling about your Web ad.

- I think you have the wrong number.
- You don't have a model train set?

What? Heh, no.

Well, I happen to think that Jeff Heinz
of Washington Heights is cute.

I'm gonna wink back.
How's that for post-love?

Hello.

Hey, I can be there in 20 minutes.

- Are the trains set up?
- Excuse me?

Um, what is this thing
about the trains?

Oh, you said we can take our clothes
off and play with the trains together?

- What?
- I can...

What is happening
with my computer?

Hey. Got your pies.

- Uh, we didn't order pizza.
- Um, yeah, you did.

I... I got like 20 more larges
with pineapple in my trunk.

I'm afraid you've been duped.
This is for your trouble.

Please see those pizzas
find a good home. Thank you.

What is happening?

Hmm.

They most likely traced the phone here
before the microwave destroyed it.

Who traced the phone here?

Hector the security guard
realized his phone had been stolen

and then tracked it to this address

before I realized he was a member
and destroyed it.

He and his compatriots
have reasoned

that the enemies of Ezra Kleinfelter
reside here,

and now they plan to subject us
to a life-ruin.

Have you changed your online
banking password recently?

In the last couple of weeks. Why?

They can just get into our computers
like that?

Amongst other places,
but you should be all right.

Your e-mail, social media sites,
those passwords are not derived

from the names of family members,
are they?

Why?

I don't think there's any need
to panic.

Heartfelt apology still works miracles,
I've found.

What am I apologizing for?
Where are you going?

We're not gonna
get any work done here.

All right, thanks.

Hey, did you guys know
your phones are disconnected?

Yes.

Any word on the box we found
in Vanessa Hiskie's apartment?

We pulled some partial prints,
but nothing matches Kleinfelter.

I need to examine the contents
of that box.

- I told you, it was a bust.
- Forensically, yes.

But Ezra Kleinfelter's on the front page
of every newspaper.

He doesn't have the run of the city.

He had to go somewhere
after he murdered Vanessa Hiskie.

He couldn't reach out to Everyone,
not after murdering one of their own.

We also know
that he wasn't under their protection

until two days
after he became a fugitive.

You think he went back
to the first place he was hiding.

Okay. So...

Looks like he's somewhere
in New York or Venezuela.

And doesn't have anything
to spread his cheese on.

This paper's... It's brittle.
It's ready to crack.

They went stale a long time ago.

So why would Kleinfelter carry around
a bunch of old crackers?

"O.C.D."

The Office of Civil Defense.
It's a Cold War-era bureaucracy.

Amongst other things,
they maintained emergency bunkers

for officials to use
in case of nuclear holocaust.

They were stocked
with supplies, food.

Ezra's hiding
in one of those bunkers.

He took that box with him
when he went to Vanessa's.

So how many of these bunkers
were there?

Dozens. Maybe hundreds.
Difficult to say.

Office of Civil Defense
closed years ago.

- You can use the desk line.
- Hmm.

He hardly ever answers the phone
anyway.

Going to have to pay him a visit.

You're telling me
that one guy lives in this building.

Milton Van Kirk inherited the estate
from his parents.

The man has spent his entire adult life
writing a biography of Robert Moses,

The builder
who shaped much of this city.

Van Kirk just turned 75, and he has yet
to finish the manuscript.

He's been writing the same thing
his whole life?

His research has made him
the world's foremost expert

in the geography of New York City.

We've had a delightful correspondence
about the Delaware Aqueduct.

I have, however, learned not to ask
him about the progress of his book.

I recommend you do the same.

The Office of Civil Defense
maintained...

Let's see.

- 41 emergency bunkers
in New York City during the Cold War.

But they were all decommissioned
by the time Clinton took office.

I don't know how your man got hold
of a box with a O.C.D. Stencil.

But those bunkers
just aren't there anymore.

- Can I...? Can I look at those?
- Yeah.

Thanks.

Milton.

Look. Two lists.
Commissions, decommissions.

The list of commissions
is 41 entries long.

The list of decommissions, 40.

There is one bunker situated
in a caisson in the Brooklyn Bridge

which was built
but never decommissioned.

They must have just simply
lost track of it.

Ezra had access
to government records for his job.

Maybe he noticed the same thing
that you did.

Thank you, Milton.

Wait.

Can you help me?

How did I end up agreeing
to reading a 5,000-page manuscript?

You won't be wasting as much time
on the Internet now, will you?

So you're gonna need something

to fill up the hours you've spent
selling yourself to strangers.

Excuse me,
might I borrow your phone?

- It's police business. I'm just...
- As soon as we pick up Kleinfelter,

we're gonna figure out how to get
these people off our backs, okay?

Excuse me.

My name is Sherlock Holmes.

I have to get a message
to Captain Gregson in Major Cases.

Kleinfelter hiding.

Brooklyn Bridge, east caisson.

On the way, all right?

It's of paramount importance.

Okay.

You might consider this
something of a lesson.

If you keep a discreet digital footprint,
as I do,

you're less vulnerable
to the harassment

which is Everyone's stock-in-trade.

Hey, can you pop the trunk?

U.S. Secret Service!
Hands in the air!

What's this about?

You seriously think we can't
trace a blog back to an IP address?

"44MustDie. Com." Sound familiar?

It should,
because you posted it yesterday.

And it's got the details
of four different plans

to assassinate the president
of this country.

That's a class-D felony.

Please, he didn't put that up.
We're being harassed.

Once again, I have no designs
on the life of your president.

I have no designs
on the life of any president.

I suppose if I lived
in the age of Millard Fillmore,

I might consider drastic action.

We're talking about the leader
of the free world. This isn't a joke.

Isn't it? Because while we sit here
and engage in beef-witted debate,

my pursuit of an actual enemy
of your state lies dormant.

I've told you,

call Captain Thomas Gregson
of the N.Y.P.D.

- We'll get to that.
- You're in pursuit of the author

of a series of hate pamphlets who calls
himself "Skrewdriver," are you not?

I saw your bulletin board
while you had me waiting.

You want to know if he's a threat.

If you make the call,
I will tell you his identity.

You couldn't know that.

Couldn't I?

I know that you, Agent Polk,
are in the latest stages of a divorce

and have started shaving your chest
in anticipation of dating again.

And if you won't find
alternative sources of protein,

then you really need
to resume eating meat.

Veganism is not a choice
to be made flippantly.

I just spent three hours
answering questions

on whether or not I plan
to assassinate the president.

I just heard from Captain Gregson.

By the time the police got
to the bunker, it was empty.

This was all they found.

Everyone is helping Kleinfelter again.

They were monitoring
the police band.

Told him
when the officers were on the way.

How'd you get your phone
to start working again?

Oh, it's not mine.
I liberated it from Agent Polk.

- Uh, hi.
- Hi.

You're Joan? You're Joan Watson?

Yes, and you are?

Oh, Jeff Heinz. Um...

The guy from TrueRomantix.

Okay.

It's just that, you know,
we exchanged some nice messages.

And then I got some really weird stuff
from you.

Oh, no.

They all had your home address,
which I thought was a little weird.

It's on your profile now too,

along with some interesting thoughts
on same-sex marriage.

Oh, my God, you know what?
I know those things are on my profile,

- but I did not write any of those things.
- Yeah, I kind of figured that.

I'm no computer expert,

but it seems like somebody's
messing with you pretty badly.

So, um, I just wanted
to make sure you're okay.

Oh.

Oh, hey, I hope that's not too strange.

No, it's nice.

Right, hack this!

Oh, God, that is my roommate.
He's kind of a long story.

You know what?
I would love to explain all of this to you.

Could I just have a couple of days
to sort some things out

- and get things under control?
- Yeah.

But, you know, big picture, I am fine.
Seriously.

Thank you so much
for checking in on me.

Yeah, of course.

I hope to see you soon.

Yeah.

- Good night.
- Good night.

Everyone may have had
our power turned off,

but they can't hack our generator.

The generator powers the laptop,

which is connected
to the neighbor's wireless.

I've opened a chat on Jamaica Quay
so I can appeal directly to Everyone.

I've written them a heartfelt plea

for them to end their campaign
against us.

Oh, because they're known
for compassion.

Well, I'm expecting nothing
but mockery.

But if I can engage them at all,
it might prove fruitful.

At least some of them
are working with Kleinfelter.

Perhaps I can goad them
into revealing something of their plans.

Um, I asked you
about Irene yesterday.

Her name is Moriarty.

Sure, Moriarty.

What she put you through
was cruel.

And I don't think you've really dealt
with it yet.

I submitted to one recovery
at your behest.

- There won't be a second.
- I...

"Shoe on head."

They want me to upload a photograph
of myself with a shoe on my head

as it is a ritual of humiliation
for the tribe.

Fine.

Oh.

Very well.

Um...

Heh. No.

I remind you
we are investigating a murder.

No.

They all just left.

Everyone is a collective.
They don't take orders.

Why would they just fall silent
just because "Jormungandr" says to?

It's 9:00. You didn't wake me.

I didn't need to.

We're quite free
until 4:22 this afternoon.

I thought a leisurely breakfast
might be nice.

Hmm.

And what is happening at 4:22?

Well, after you went to bed last night,

I spent some time
reviewing Ezra Kleinfelter's options.

He could try to survive as a fugitive
here in the States.

That's a difficult life. It's highly risky.

He could present himself
to a sympathetic embassy.

His best option, by far, is the third.

Make his way to foreign soil,
gain asylum, live out his days.

Wait, first of all, there's only a handful
of places that will take him right now.

I mean, everyone in the country's
looking for him.

Public travel's out of the question,
I agree. Yeah.

But private air travel
is far less regulated.

- The security measures are minimal.
- So he needs his own private plane?

No, he needs an ally with a plane.

And a few days
to make the necessary arrangements.

Jormungandr.

The name of the member of Everyone
who got his compatriots to toe the line.

The name, of course,
refers to the third child

of Loki and Angrboda
in Norse mythology.

Oh, of course,
because everyone knows that.

He was a serpent who grew so large

he could encircle the Earth
and swallow his own tail.

It's quite a striking image.

And it led me to the man
behind the alias.

Fifteen years ago,
an Irishman named Darragh O'Connor

sold a nifty bit of software
that he'd written himself.

It was his first and only foray
into the business world,

but it netted him
nearly a billion dollars.

Since then,
he's spent his time primarily

as an advocate
for freedom of information.

That's Everyone's pet cause.

Ouroboros.

A snake eating his own tail.

So Darragh O'Connor
is Jormungandr.

Well, according to the FAA,
his private plane is scheduled

to touch down here in New York
later this afternoon

and take off for Venezuela
shortly thereafter.

I'll wager
he'll be taking on a passenger.

4:22 on the nose.

The driver. Kleinfelter's the driver.

We want the driver. Move in.

Ezra Kleinfelter, you're under arrest.

You're facing federal charges,

and you're a person of suspicion
in the murder of Vanessa Hiskie.

You are persistent, I'll give you that.

But I'm still getting on this plane,
and I'm flying to Caracas.

Heh. I can tell you two things wrong
with that sentence.

Arrest me, and 14 innocent men
and women will lose their lives.

One of you,
reach into my bag there.

There's an envelope.

It's a dossier concerning a man
named Farouq Hassad.

Yeah? What about him?

He's an intelligence asset of ours
in Morocco.

Call that number on the Post-it.

See how fast the section chief asks
how you knew that.

That's just one to prove
that I'm not bluffing.

There are 13 more, and if you
arrest me, their names go public.

Now, some of them might get
to protection in time.

But most of them?

Well, there's a reason
why they call it "deep cover."

We gotta let him go.

Let him go.

It doesn't matter where you go.

We know you killed Vanessa Hiskie.
We'll prove it.

If there's evidence
that ties Ezra to the murder,

do you think that Venezuela
will still grant him asylum?

Why?

Um... Well, I stole his watch.

You...

That's why you grabbed him?

We didn't cover sleight of hand yet.

Well, I dug into it on my own.
You were right.

I mean, all it is is eye contact
and controlling the point of focus.

Our power's out,
so, what else am I gonna do but read?

Well, if we can scrape together
enough skin cells

to get a viable
epithelial DNA sample,

and we get creative about how
we came into possession of the watch,

then we could prove
he killed Vanessa Hiskie.

Okay, but even if
we do get Kleinfelter back,

isn't he just gonna
release those names?

Oh, undoubtedly.
But we just have to try and make sure

that all 14 of those people are safe
before he does.

Yeah,
but we don't know who they are.

Not yet.

But it's a nine-hour flight to Caracas.

I need a backgammon board.

Time to give our client
a status update.

Good evening, Elliot Honeycutt.

Holmes.

How did you get in here?

Have a seat.

We can sharpen
your backgammon skills while we talk.

Things are going rather poorly,
I'm afraid.

Ezra Kleinfelter, as we speak,
is on his way to Venezuela.

It seems he will escape justice

and whatever fate you had in mind
for him.

We can tie him to the murder
of Vanessa Hiskie,

but if we do, he will release
the contents of several stolen files.

They contain the names
of 14 clandestine operatives.

That's not really surprising to you,
though, is it?

Did you tell your employers

that he has the names
of more than a dozen key assets?

No.

The board decided
to pursue a strategy of containment.

Didn't work, though, did it?

But now you have a choice.

Release those names
to the government,

and they can get those people to safety
before Kleinfelter posts their identities.

That's suicide for the company.
The board will never agree.

I'm not talking about the board.

Can you access the stolen files?

I can access anything
at this company.

You're a former operative yourself.

Does it sit well with you?

Your board playing fast and loose
with the lives of people in service?

I have no intention of letting
Ezra Kleinfelter get away with murder.

You've done your research on me.

You know I get my man.

Even if it means
letting those operatives die?

I don't believe it will mean that.

Because when I leave here,

you're going to release those names
to the government,

regardless of what it means
to this company.

Why would I do that?

Because you know what it means
to serve.

You won't leave those men
and women to their fates.

You're bluffing.

Well, I've told you
what needs to happen.

Those souls won't be
on my conscience.

Your turn, Mr. Honeycutt.

This was the scene
at Miami International Airport

as federal agents took Ezra Kleinfelter
into custody early this morning.

Federal sources say
that Kleinfelter confessed

to the murder of Vanessa Hiskie
in exchange for a guarantee

that he won't face capital punishment
for espionage.

- The former assistant...
- The power's on.

So you got confirmation
that the agents are all okay?

After Honeycutt
turned over the names,

they were in safe houses
within the hour, apparently.

Kleinfelter's confession has dampened
Everyone's enthusiasm for him.

They've moved on to other pursuits.

I might have sent them a photograph
of myself with a shoe on my head

to hasten the reconciliation.

Oh. My phone's back on.

We are free to resume our lives.

You might wanna check your
voice mails. The landline as well.

Potential clients
may have reached out.

No more detective work
for me today.

I need to figure out how many people
Everyone managed to offend

when they hacked into my accounts.

Have you considered
letting the matter lie?

Might be a chance to pare back
on unnecessary social entanglements.

And I'm going out tonight.

I need a little real-world time.

For a long while now,

I've suspected that connection
with another person,

real connection,
simply isn't possible.

I'm curious if you disagree,

although I suspect
you feel as I do in this,

as you do in so many other things.

Oh, hey.

I'm assuming the evening went well,

or you wouldn't have ended it
with a good-night kiss.

It wasn't bad.

I mean, I don't know
if there were any sparks. It was fun.

I think it's sad that you've given up.

I think you have a lot to share,
if you cared to.

I shouldn't be the only one
who knows you.

So tell me, is it possible
to truly know another person?

Is it even a worthwhile pursuit?

Yours is the only opinion I'll trust,

the only point of view

That holds even the faintest interest.

I find my diversions, as I always do,

but the days are long
in this gray place.

I dearly hope you'll write soon.

Ever yours, Jamie Moriarty.