Person of Interest (2011–2016): Season 2, Episode 9 - C.O.D. - full transcript
Reese and Finch's next number may be their most difficult to date if only because there is not on the surface any clear indication who he may be a target of or who he may be targeting, and because of the large number of non-connected people he encounters every day. He is Fermin Ordoñez, who defected to the United States from Cuba as a major league prospect, leaving behind a wife and child in Cuba in search for this better life for them all eventually. An injury ended his pro ball aspirations, and now he ekes out a living as a cabbie. He is trying to smuggle his family out of Cuba, but his contact is requesting more money than he has available. As Reese tails him, Carter learns that one of his recent fares is found dead, with the Secret Service involved. Through that murder, Reese discovers that the murder was because of something that was left in Fermin's cab that may be a breach of national security. Reese and Fermin have to find that now missing item as leverage to protect him against the people who murdered his fare and who will continue killing until they retrieve that item. Meanwhile, HR is trying to resurrect itself despite the investigation into their activities. Their current manoeuvrings place Fusco in a difficult position.
You are being watched.
The government
has a secret system--
a machine that spies on you
every hour of every day.
I designed the machine
to detect acts of terror,
but it sees everything...
violent crimes
involving ordinary people.
The government considers
these people irrelevant.
We don't.
Hunted by the authorities,
we work in secret.
You will never find us.
But victim or perpetrator,
if your number's up,
we'll find you.
2x09
C.O.D.
Pull over here, cabbie.
You want to make $500?
Give me your number,
circle the block,
wait for my call.
You get the other half
when you pick me up.
You got eyes
on our new number yet, Finch?
I believe I do.
Fermin Ordo?ez. Age 38.
Born in Cuba.
One of New York's
42,000 cab drivers.
Never paid a bill late,
and most Americans
would be jealous
of his credit score.
But yesterday, he emptied out
every last dime
from his savings account.
Could be in trouble.
Or he's about to get into some.
Considering that cab drivers
are 30 times more likely
to be killed on the job
than most other professions,
we'd better keep
a close eye on him.
[Whistles]
[Over radio]
Again, last night's star--
Because you really never know
who's going
to step into his cab.
- Where to?
- 25th and Broadway.
But please don't rush.
I get carsick quite easily.
Uh, in case you do,
there's paper towels
underneath the seat, yeah?
Thank you.
Fermin Ordo?ez.
Defected from Cuba in '05.
Drafted
as a top pitching prospect,
till he tore
a ligament in his arm
in double-A ball in '07.
[Softly] A shame about his arm.
By all accounts,
he had a wicked curveball.
Till life threw him one.
From Major League prospect
to nobody hack.
No doubt,
a difficult life transition.
Let's see what else
we can find out.
_
I know you'd rather fiddle
with the onboard
computer system, Finch,
but why not try
a little small talk?
A little patience,
Mr. Reese.
Are you talking to me?
Yes, actually,
I heard about the cab driver
that got robbed
by his own passenger
on 11th Avenue last week.
Terrible business.
Yeah, you got to be careful
who you pick up.
Must be tough dealing
with complete strangers
getting in your car every day.
Sometimes.
When I look in the mirror
at my passenger,
I never know
if I'm driving around
a good guy or a bad guy,
you know?
I can only imagine.
Must make you a good judge
of character, though.
What do you make of me?
That's a nice suit.
But not too flashy.
Except for the pocket square.
But you're polite, neat,
a thinker.
The vest...
I don't know,
maybe, uh, a professor or--
I know.
A librarian, maybe?
Why, yes.
Of a sort.
Keep the change.
Really?
Thank you.
[Cab door shuts]
We've got sound, video,
and GPS in the cab,
Mr. Reese.
Stay close to him.
The threat could come
from any one
of 8 million people
in this city.
I'm right on him.
I'm using Ordo?ez's cell
to piggyback
on any phone
that enters his cab.
I know who that bitch is.
Nobody does that to me.
He's a dead man.
I remember when this
was farmland over here.
I used to shoot rabbits
down there, 20 feet away.
Quite a cast of characters
in the back of Fermin's cab.
And not all of them appear
to be sober.
Hey, amigo,
turn on the ball game.
Sorry, no baseball game.
What do you mean?
Game's on right now.
- 880 AM.
- I can't.
The radio's broken.
Come on, man!
Just put on the game!
One more time,
we're gonna have a real problem.
[Thud]
[Tires screeching]
Hey!
You owe me money!
Hey!
I can't tell if Ordo?ez
has more of an issue
with drunks, his car radio,
or the game of baseball.
After what happened to his arm,
he probably just wants
to tune it out.
Looking into every passenger
that gets into his cab--
it's impossible.
No priors.
No complaints from the
taxi and limousine commission.
I'm sending you his GPS logs
for the last 36 hours.
His GPS logs?
[Chuckles]
Which I'm sure you obtained
by submitting
an official request
to the TLC.
Not quite.
But if it would
make you feel better,
I could hack into their network
and make it look like I did.
It would only take me
a few minutes.
Never mind.
I'll check it
with the daily crime blotter,
let you know if anything pops.
Forever in your debt,
Detective.
Oh, and how did your date go
with Detective Beecher?
Sounded like it
really went well.
[Beep]
_
_
I just got word from Elias.
He says no more business
with with HR.
Most of them are either dead
or in jail anyway.
At this point,
you got to wonder
who's even left.
FBI investigation's
wrapping up.
My fed contact says
Donnelly's been crowing
about burying HR.
And yet, here we are.
Still, we have
a larger problem.
No one's gonna open
their mouth about us.
I made sure of that.
Make no mistake, my friend.
We are just businessmen,
and businesses run on money,
revenue.
That's gonna take some time.
We need to read in
some new talent.
Rebuild.
We made a tactical error
turning our back on Elias.
Even from jail, he is
the de facto boss of the city.
We need his backing
in order to operate.
That might be problematic.
Set a meeting.
Time we make peace,
get us walking
on the same path again
for our mutual benefit.
And a suggestion.
Should this meeting take
a less than cordial turn--
Don't worry.
I'll bring some backup.
[Phone dialing, line trilling]
Detective Fusco,
it's your lucky day.
I'm calling in a chip.
We're gonna set up a meet,
talk to Elias' guys.
Fermin's taking a pit stop,
Finch.
- Aziz.
- Fermin.
Hey, man.
Do you have it?
Yeah, I told you I'd find
a buyer for it.
Good, I need it.
I'm on my way over there now.
All right.
800 for the laptop.
You don't trust me?
Not at all.
[Laughs nervously] Okay.
Thank you.
- Thank you so much, man.
- Good luck, my friend.
Finch, I think
I know what happened
to our cabbie's savings.
He's carrying it all
around with him right now.
We must have
overlooked something.
Does he have gambling debts?
Is he dealing drugs?
Whatever it is,
it's about to go down.
Looks like he's about
to buy something,
or buy his way
out of a big hole.
Uh, Senor Mendoza.
Fermin.
_
_
Do they, uh...
have a safe way to get here?
This is the last photo I have
of my wife and son.
We have a slight problem,
Fermin.
The price has gone up.
What do you mean?
I mean, you only have
enough money
for Maria or Jorge,
but not both.
No.
Senor Mendoza, don't do this.
You know it is not safe
for them in Cuba anymore.
Maria says that the neighbors
are getting curious.
They sense that she and Jorge
are leaving soon.
If an official finds out,
they will arrest her
on suspicion.
Fermin, we've known each other
for how long?
I helped you
when everybody stopped caring.
Put you back on your feet
after the surgery
when your career was over.
These are prices
I do not control.
But how am I supposed to come up
with another $40,000?
It's the land of opportunity,
my friend.
You'll find a way.
Ordo?ez is a desperate
man, Finch.
Pushing around his cab
for the past five years,
saving up to bring his wife
and his kid here.
Sounds like
he just came up short.
Who knows
what he'd be willing to do
to get his family back?
I hacked
the Cuban Government database.
Surprisingly
sophisticated software.
No doubt,
courtesy of the Russians.
Don't tell me
Fidel Castro's really dead.
Actually, yes.
And his body double has cancer.
The Cubans keep a file
on every defector.
Apparently, Ordo?ez pitched
for the Cuban national team
from 2000 to 2005,
when he defected to the US.
Wanted a better life
for his wife and child.
Cuba was a surveillance state
long before the advent
of security cameras
and digital networking.
If they catch his family
trying to defect,
his wife can go to prison.
Explains why Ordo?ez is
so desperate
to get his family out of there.
Desperate times call
for desperate measures.
Stay close, Mr. Reese.
Ordo?ez turned off his sign.
He's not looking for a fare.
So who's he waiting for?
Acosta! Acosta!
Over here, man!
Look over here, Acosta!
Beautiful family!
Rafael Acosta.
Plays second base for New York.
Rafael Acosta?
Of course.
They defected together in '05.
Escaped from a hotel room
in the Netherlands
during an international
baseball tournament.
- Acosta--he's having
a pretty good year.
Career year, Mr. Reese.
He's top ten in OPS
among infielders
for the last three.
You're a baseball
reference machine, Finch.
You should get out more,
take in a game once in a while.
Who says I don't?
Hey, Raffi.
_
_
_
_
Yeah.
How's the shoulder, man?
Uh, it's okay.
Look, man,
I-I hate to ask,
but, you see, I, uh--
I just need a little help
with mi familia, you know?
Oh, yeah, yeah.
Of course, uh...
How are they?
I don't really know, Raffi.
You know, I haven't--
I haven't seen them
in a long time.
I'm still trying
to get them out of there.
Here you are, man.
Just, uh, toma.
Take that.
Good luck, Fermie, okay?
Baby, let's go.
Acosta ended up with
the life Ordo?ez could have had.
Now he just wants
his family back.
Detective,
the meeting with Elias' guys
is on for this morning.
- We'll come and pick you up.
- Count me out.
You got one too many skeletons
in the closet
to be calling the shots here.
Not to mention,
a couple buried in the ground.
But they can always be dug up.
Fine, I'll be there.
You don't need me for this.
You got youngblood recruit
right over there.
Have him twist
a few arms for you.
Elias knows how
to hold a grudge.
You're here because
if this thing goes sideways,
these guys are gonna want
something to shoot.
That's comforting.
Gotta say...
took some balls,
calling a meeting like this.
In the shape HR is in,
I'm not quite sure
what you have to offer anymore.
Just your goodwill.
Your boss wanted the heads
of the five families
on a stick.
Grifoni's the only one
that got away.
Last I checked,
he was in Witness Protection.
And on the back
of this photo...
his alias and present address
in nowheresville, suburbia.
And in exchange, you want what?
Elias' support
in rebuilding HR.
[Phone dialing]
Hey, it's me.
I'm at the meeting.
So here's the deal.
The boss accepts your offer...
on one condition.
We're not interested
in going out and getting him.
The boss says
you bring Grifoni to us.
Then all is forgiven.
Consider it done.
Okay, cabbie,
what were you doing here
last night
for 25 minutes?
Carter!
Whoa, now this party's
really blowing up.
Who called you?
Nobody.
I was 10/6.
But you look kind of lost
out here, Terney.
- What's the story?
- I wish someone would tell me.
What we got is, uh...
this guy.
Seems like he's been dead
about nine hours.
Multiple gunshot wounds.
No ID.
Just the clothes on his back.
Who are the suits?
[Laughs]
Secret Service.
I don't know
who tipped 'em off,
but they were
all over that body
the minute we called it in.
Detective Carter,
Homicide Task Force.
Call you back.
Agent Regina Vickers,
Secret Service.
We got an ID on the body?
No offense, but this case
is "need to know."
No offense taken.
But, uh, if a body drops
in New York City,
we're gonna have to ID it.
Vadim Pushkov,
Russian national.
What we're mainly
concerned with
is if he had anything
on his person.
Has anything turned up yet?
A laptop? A phone?
Well, just some receipts,
and, uh-- and this.
Makes you wonder
where the other half went.
But we'll keep combing
the area.
He buys a pizza bagel
at JFK yesterday afternoon
and winds up dead
in Morningside Park
at 2:00 AM with no luggage.
Any idea how he got here?
Town car? Cab?
Maybe if we find out
who drove him here,
we could find the shooter.
Or a witness.
You canvass the area and
we'll check the security cams.
We find that car,
we'll find out who did this.
[Cell phone rings] Excuse me.
[Beep] Vickers here.
Hello, Detective.
So, GPS put your driver
at Morningside Park
for a window of 25 minutes
last night,
right around the time
some Russian guy succumbs
to acute lead poisoning.
And you think our cab driver
is connected to this homicide?
Figured you could tell me.
Along with, why are
the Secret Service crawling
all over this investigation?
I have no idea.
But whatever you can find out
would be much appreciated.
Unlikely,
considering they're
about as forthcoming
with information as you are.
I'll see what I can find out.
[Car door opens]
So what do we know
about the dead Russian
in the park, Finch?
Vadim Pushkov.
If the Secret Service
is involved,
he's likely some kind
of international criminal.
Seems like our cabbie gave
the wrong guy a ride last night.
Take the 59th Street bridge
into Queens.
Do you have an address?
No address.
Just go.
I can't seem to access
this woman's phone.
Either she doesn't have one,
or it's currently turned off.
They're taking the bridge
into Queens.
Now take this all the way down
and make a right on Vernon.
Got a bad feeling
about this, Finch.
Turn right up here.
Strange place for her
to be going.
One-way street
that bottlenecks down the way.
This is good right here.
They're stopped
in the middle of the block.
She's isolated him, Finch.
Uh, $11.50.
First, a few questions.
Excuse me?
A friend of mine
was in your cab last night.
Do you recognize him?
Uh, I see a lot of people...
every day.
Pushkov.
You drove him.
Did he leave anything behind?
Do not lie to me.
Look, lady,
I turn in the cab every night.
Uh, if someone did leave
anything in here,
I didn't find it.
[Phone dials]
_
[Car door opens]
[Car door opens]
Sorry, I'm not in service.
Here's the thing.
You're gonna want
to give me a lift anyway.
Listen, I'm having
a pretty lousy day, okay?
You mind, uh, just getting out?
I'm afraid it's gonna get
a whole lot worse, Fermin.
[Gun clicks]
I don't want any trouble.
Unfortunately, you and I don't
have much to say on that matter.
Now listen up.
We're about ready
to be boxed in by two cars.
Four to six shooters.
I want you to aim for the rear
quarter panel of their car,
and don't let off the gas,
you got that?
Now's a good time, Fermin.
- Wait, what?
- Now, Fermin.
[Tires screeching]
Mr. Reese, are you okay?
I'm fine, Finch.
But I think
the real threat just found us.
What the hell is going on?
Who are those people?
Mr. Reese, the blonde
who led him into the trap
made a call
just after leaving the cab.
I can't quite make it out.
[Female voice murmuring]
But I believe it's Estonian.
Estonian mob.
I recognize their methods.
It was a kill box.
Had a similar experience
in Russia.
Didn't work out
too well for them.
[Grunts]
Disabled the GPS.
Can't risk them accessing it
to track you down.
Who are you?
Just a guy who needed a ride.
That woman asked
about a passenger
in your cab last night.
His name is Pushkov.
What happened to him?
I don't know this Pushkov!
I'm just a cab driver!
What, you're gonna lie to me
like you lied to that woman?
There's a big difference here,
Fermin.
I'm the only one who can
help you, you understand?
So why are you helping me?
Maybe you're an honest guy
who just made a mistake.
But you need to decide
whether your life's worth more
than whatever that guy left
in your cab.
Okay.
I picked this guy up
near the airport, huh?
We drove around for a while.
He seemed nervous.
He spoke in Russian
on his cell phone.
- You understand Russian?
- A little.
My grandfather spoke it
when I was a kid in Cuba.
It sounded like he was trying
to sell something.
He called it, uh, "H-said,"
or-- or-- or "travelers."
I didn't know
what he was talking about.
That blonde lady said
he left something in your cab.
What was it?
I'm not a cop here, Fermin,
but if you want my help,
you need to tell me
what he left in your cab.
He left a laptop.
He left it underneath the seat.
He must have forgot.
What'd you do with it?
I sold it...
to a friend for money.
Look, I never do that,
but--
I drive him around all day
and then he stiffed me
on the tab.
- Finch, are you there?
- Always, Mr. Reese.
Sounds like this Pushkov had
some kind of a deal
to sell the laptop
to the Estonians.
But then he leaves it
in the cab?
He knew it would be dangerous.
He wanted to negotiate
a higher price.
Clearly, the Estonians
were in no mood to negotiate.
What in the world could be
on that laptop?
- Who are you talking to?
- My business partner.
Estonians don't care
if he doesn't have the laptop.
They'll kill him
just because he knew about it.
Just because of a laptop?
Because of what was on it,
and getting it back
may be the only leverage we have
to keep you alive.
Let's start
with the friend you sold it to.
Finch, looks like the Estonians
have been here already.
Aziz?
Sorry, Fermin.
I sold him the laptop.
I got him killed.
- Is the laptop still here?
- I don't think so.
He told me he found a buyer
this morning.
He paid me my share.
Mr. Mansoor sold the laptop
before his demise
at the hands of the Estonians.
They trashed this place
looking for it.
How'd they know to come here?
Pushkov may have installed
a beacon
that turns on
when you power it up.
Anyone with an access code
could follow it geographically.
And they're willing
to kill anyone
who comes in contact with it.
I've gotten
into Aziz's email account.
It appears
that he sold the laptop
to an online buyer
named "d3mn8."
Any way we can track him?
If d3mn8 discovers
what's on the laptop,
he may try to flip it.
In which case, he'd probably go
to the darknet,
try to sell it on Silk Road
or one of those
black market forums.
I'll try to track him down,
see if I can negotiate
a meeting.
What about Aziz?
The NYPD will be here
shortly...
Find out who did this
to your friend.
We better get moving.
'Cause you're gonna be next.
[Cell phone rings]
Let me guess,
your driver confessed to killing
the Russian in the park.
Not exactly.
You want the good news
or the bad news?
Start with the good.
Pushkov was killed
by the Estonian mob.
They're chasing a laptop
he left in our driver's cab.
Which explains
the Secret Service
swarming the body.
Why do they want
this laptop so bad?
Don't know yet,
but they're willing
to kill anyone who comes
in contact with it.
Keep an eye out for a blonde.
She runs point for them.
I'll pull our analytical brief
on the Estonians.
Now, what's the bad news?
They just dropped another body.
I'll text you the address.
I never should have taken
that laptop.
Oh, I knew this whole thing
was a mistake!
No matter what I do,
nothing seems to turn out right.
You mean, how you chose
to get involved
with a smuggler like Mendoza?
Wh-- Mendoza was our contact.
When we defected,
he arranged everything
for us ballplayers.
He brought us all the way
to New York.
In exchange, he takes
a cut of your contract
when you get paid?
Mendoza said that's the way
it worked.
He promises the Moon.
I thought baseball,
this country,
was gonna make me rich,
but this game...
you know, it lies to you.
And once you got injured,
it was over.
You can't play,
you can't make money.
You become a nobody.
So Mendoza figured
he'd find another way
to get his money out of you.
- Your family.
- Yeah, he said he'd help.
But now he's sticking it to me.
He doesn't care.
Sometimes I wish
that I'd never left Cuba.
You did a brave thing.
Leaving to find
a better life for your family.
American dream, right?
You get a good job,
you buy a house.
I'd trade all that in
just to see my family
one more time.
To see my son grow up,
you know?
Ah, he doesn't even know
who I am anyway.
I can help you
make things right, Fermin.
But you've got to trust me.
Do I have a choice?
This CI of yours...
How does he know
the Estonians killed Pushkov?
They're hunting
a laptop he had on him.
You know what's on that thing?
- Do you, Detective?
- Not yet.
But I'm getting
a strong premonition
that whatever it is,
it can embarrass the Government.
Am I right?
Look, I'm only trying to help.
Vadim Pushkov was a lone wolf
hacker extraordinaire.
We first noticed him
five years ago.
He stole over 100,000
credit card numbers.
The next time he turned up,
he hacked into
a drone pilot station in Nevada
and sold the flight control
encryption protocol online
to a buyer in Pakistan.
So, he showed up
on your radar again,
and you guys hoped to catch him
before he sold
whatever he stole.
Problem is, we have no idea
what Pushkov was up to
this time.
[Cell phone beeps]
Afraid to even think
about what would happen
if the contents of that laptop
slipped into the wrong hands.
You might want to come with me.
Where are we going?
Body dropped
at a computer store
in the East Village.
Last guy to sell the laptop.
Mr. Reese, my search
for d3mn8 continues.
But I think
I may have discovered
what was on Pushkov's laptop.
What is it, Finch?
Detective Carter said
they found a $275 receipt
on Pushkov
for short-term parking at JFK.
$275?
Nothing short-term about that.
No, and he wasn't flying
anywhere.
So if Ordo?ez heard him say
"H-said,"
it's possible
that he's speaking about
the Homeland Security Automated
Identification Database.
My best guess is
he stole information
on a huge number of travelers...
Addresses, FBI clearances,
biometric data.
Means they could sneak
whoever they wanted
directly into the country
using stolen credentials.
Terrorists could get
their hands on this.
A breach like that
only has value
if no one knows about it.
Which is why they're
killing everybody
that comes in contact
with the laptop.
[Computer chimes]
Uh, my suspicions
are confirmed.
I found the laptop listed
on a darknet IRC channel
frequented by d3mn8.
He's trying to sell it
for $50,000.
He's discovered
what he's got in his hands
and what it's worth.
If he lives that long.
I'll try to make a buy,
set up a meet.
Mr. Reese, I've managed
to connect with d3mn8
on the black market.
We've agreed on a price
for the laptop.
Sending you the address now
to meet up with him
for the buy.
What is this place?
Finch, there's no one here.
This place is empty.
What do you mean, empty?
We may be the only ones
in this room...
but we're not alone.
We're being watched.
[Cell phone rings]
[Beep]
Fusco.
Bowman will swing by
and pick you up.
You two will get the package,
deliver it as planned.
Hey, listen, I've been
thinking about this.
I can't do it.
I got to keep my nose clean...
because I'm no good to you
locked up.
Oh, I'm sure we'd find
something for you
to do with yourself, Lionel.
Besides, you're not
that much good to me as it is.
No, I'm sorry,
I just can't do it.
No?
Okay, Lionel.
You've sealed your fate.
[Dial tone]
[Beep]
[Computer chimes]
_
_
[Cell phone beeps]
_
Mr. Reese, I've just had
a message from d3mn8.
He's called off the sale.
Apparently, he doesn't like
the way you look.
What the hell's wrong
with the way I look?
He says you look like a fed.
He's voided the transaction.
That laptop may be
our only hope
of getting Ordo?ez's life back.
D3mn8 isn't as smart
as he thinks he is.
Now he's in grave danger too.
I piggybacked on the signal
from his camera
and traced it back
to where he is right now.
I have an address
at Yeongson Pool Hall.
I guess our Estonian friends
are looking for d3mn8 too,
Finch.
We're gonna be delayed.
[Grunting]
Mr. Reese?
Whoa.
[Grunting]
I might have to meet d3mn8
on my own.
Want to go for a ride?
Come on.
[Bear barks]
[Keypad tones]
[Line trilling]
[Grunting]
[Cell phone rings]
Yes, Lionel?
[Grunting over phone]
This a bad time?
Kinda.
I'll call you back.
[Dial tone]
[Beeping]
[Phone dials, line trilling]
Yeah?
Okay, fine.
What time you want to do this?
This is
the security camera footage
we took
from the computer store.
We have Aziz Mansoor leaving
with the laptop.
About 45 minutes later,
he returns without it.
No laptop, hmm.
He must have sold it.
But look at this.
- 20 minutes later...
- She's in the file.
Estonian operator
named Irina Kapp.
Interpol issued a red notice
on her six months ago.
She walks out,
ten minutes later,
Mr. Mansoor dies
in a hail of bullets.
Hmm.
Our little angel of death.
Yeah?
I'm here to meet someone.
Who are you?
And what do you want?
I brought the money.
But you're not him.
- You're not d3mn8.
- What do you know?
I know that he's sitting
right over there.
And if he's gonna remotely
monitor a wireless camera
with his phone,
[Raises voice]
He should take better care
to encrypt its IP address.
Whoa.
[Bear barks]
You don't want to do that.
[Bear growls]
Thank you.
(Dutch) Sit.
- Let's see the money.
- I'm new at this sort of thing.
But I'm guessing I'm supposed
to see the laptop first.
You're not with the Estonians.
No, I'm not.
You tried
to buy the laptop earlier.
But I didn't like
the way your partner looked.
So you arranged to make
a deal with the Estonians,
thinking they would pay more.
You'd be wrong.
[Latches click]
100,000.
Small bills.
Double your asking price.
What's the catch?
The catch...
Albert,
is that you leave
this very second,
disappear, and don't show
your face for at least a year.
Especially not
at your mom's house in Queens,
where you presently reside.
Take your money
and go far, far away.
Some very bad people
want that laptop.
And if they know
you've even seen it,
they will kill you.
So that's the catch, Albert.
Then why would you want it?
Let me worry about that.
Take your money.
Go. Now.
Sorry, Finch.
Got distracted.
Where's the pool hall?
Did you get the laptop?
Yes, I'm here,
and I have the laptop,
Mr. Reese.
But I'm afraid you'd better come
rather quickly.
I think you have something
that belongs to me.
Did you open it?
I don't have to.
I know what's on it.
And I know
I'll never let you take it.
At any price.
I do like men with glasses.
Too bad.
[Bear barking]
Shoot the dog.
I wouldn't do that, fellas.
[Customers screaming]
[Grunting]
[Woman screams]
Mr. Reese!
(Dutch) Attack
Ah!
[Bear snarls, growls]
Nice try.
Little high...
and outside,
but it still got there.
Heel.
Good boy, good boy.
Hey, Carter...
you missed all the fun.
Where have you been?
Feds just got a hit on that
blonde woman's cell phone
at a Korean pool hall.
I'm guessing you guys
are there?
So you got to clear out.
Don't suppose you could
give us a ride?
Grifoni should be
coming out soon.
[Cell phone rings]
Hey, give me a second,
will you? It's my ex.
I got to tell her
I'm gonna be late
picking up my kid.
Yeah.
Yeah, Fusco.
Hello, Lionel.
Long time no speak.
Hey, what's going on?
You called me, Lionel.
Remember?
I'm calling you back.
Yeah, sorry about that.
I've been, uh, kind of buried
on this case.
Yeah, well, we could've used
your help on this one too.
What do you want?
Nah, it's--
it's nothing.
Don't worry about it.
Everything's fine.
Great.
Glad we could talk.
Gotta go.
Yeah, me too.
[Beep]
[Knock on car door]
Here we go.
You all right?
You look like crap.
Yeah, I'm fine.
Here he comes.
We'll take him at the car.
[Chuckles]
Wait a second.
Is he laughing?
What the hell's so funny,
Grifoni?
I'm laughing...
'cause I ain't the one who's
about to get hit.
Sorry, fellas.
Elias told me
you might be coming.
Ever since I screwed up,
I've been trying
to work my way back
into his good graces.
Kinda like you and HR.
Oh, well.
And you...
Elias wants you
to take a message back
to your pal Simmons and HR.
No sign of Irina Kapp anywhere.
And no one knows anything
about the laptop.
It's still out there
on the black market.
You are not a librarian, huh?
Don't worry about your cab.
A brand-new one's on its way.
And before I forget...
I owe you cab fare for the day.
Think you're gonna like
your tip.
Agent Vickers,
this gentleman's name is
Fermin Ordo?ez.
I've been told he was very
instrumental
in tracking down the Estonians
who killed Pushkov and Mansoor.
Thank you for your help.
Uh, you're welcome.
It also sounds like
he may have something
you've been looking for.
Really?
Where is it?
Maybe he can get it to us,
if we can help him out
with something.
And what's that?
It'll just take
a little bit of money
and some help
from the Coast Guard.
[Bear barks]
[Crowd cheering]
_
_
_
(Spanish) Good, good.
[Bear barks, whimpers]
(Spanish) Go back.
[Laughs, speaks Spanish]
Well done.
Don't know
how you pulled that one off.
It sure feels good.
(Dutch) Drop.
Yeah.
I got my own bag of tricks.
[Spanish] Come here.
Guess so.
But I have to ask you...
What's going on with Lionel?
What do you mean?
No reason.
I'll keep an eye on him.
[Bear whimpers]
Thanks.
[Whistles]
[Bear barks]
What the hell happened
out there?
You tell me.
'Cause they knew
we were coming for him.
We got double-crossed.
The part I don't get...
they shot bowman,
but they let you
just walk away.
'Cause they want me
to send HR a message.
Elias said, "go to hell."
Quite frankly,
I second the motion.
[Phone rings]
Carter.
Wait, whoa, whoa, whoa.
Who is this?
What do you mean by that?
Wait, hold on.
Whoa.
- What's that about?
- Anonymous tip.
- About what?
- Davidson.
The IA detective
that disappeared last February.
Said he was murdered...
by another cop.
The government
has a secret system--
a machine that spies on you
every hour of every day.
I designed the machine
to detect acts of terror,
but it sees everything...
violent crimes
involving ordinary people.
The government considers
these people irrelevant.
We don't.
Hunted by the authorities,
we work in secret.
You will never find us.
But victim or perpetrator,
if your number's up,
we'll find you.
2x09
C.O.D.
Pull over here, cabbie.
You want to make $500?
Give me your number,
circle the block,
wait for my call.
You get the other half
when you pick me up.
You got eyes
on our new number yet, Finch?
I believe I do.
Fermin Ordo?ez. Age 38.
Born in Cuba.
One of New York's
42,000 cab drivers.
Never paid a bill late,
and most Americans
would be jealous
of his credit score.
But yesterday, he emptied out
every last dime
from his savings account.
Could be in trouble.
Or he's about to get into some.
Considering that cab drivers
are 30 times more likely
to be killed on the job
than most other professions,
we'd better keep
a close eye on him.
[Whistles]
[Over radio]
Again, last night's star--
Because you really never know
who's going
to step into his cab.
- Where to?
- 25th and Broadway.
But please don't rush.
I get carsick quite easily.
Uh, in case you do,
there's paper towels
underneath the seat, yeah?
Thank you.
Fermin Ordo?ez.
Defected from Cuba in '05.
Drafted
as a top pitching prospect,
till he tore
a ligament in his arm
in double-A ball in '07.
[Softly] A shame about his arm.
By all accounts,
he had a wicked curveball.
Till life threw him one.
From Major League prospect
to nobody hack.
No doubt,
a difficult life transition.
Let's see what else
we can find out.
_
I know you'd rather fiddle
with the onboard
computer system, Finch,
but why not try
a little small talk?
A little patience,
Mr. Reese.
Are you talking to me?
Yes, actually,
I heard about the cab driver
that got robbed
by his own passenger
on 11th Avenue last week.
Terrible business.
Yeah, you got to be careful
who you pick up.
Must be tough dealing
with complete strangers
getting in your car every day.
Sometimes.
When I look in the mirror
at my passenger,
I never know
if I'm driving around
a good guy or a bad guy,
you know?
I can only imagine.
Must make you a good judge
of character, though.
What do you make of me?
That's a nice suit.
But not too flashy.
Except for the pocket square.
But you're polite, neat,
a thinker.
The vest...
I don't know,
maybe, uh, a professor or--
I know.
A librarian, maybe?
Why, yes.
Of a sort.
Keep the change.
Really?
Thank you.
[Cab door shuts]
We've got sound, video,
and GPS in the cab,
Mr. Reese.
Stay close to him.
The threat could come
from any one
of 8 million people
in this city.
I'm right on him.
I'm using Ordo?ez's cell
to piggyback
on any phone
that enters his cab.
I know who that bitch is.
Nobody does that to me.
He's a dead man.
I remember when this
was farmland over here.
I used to shoot rabbits
down there, 20 feet away.
Quite a cast of characters
in the back of Fermin's cab.
And not all of them appear
to be sober.
Hey, amigo,
turn on the ball game.
Sorry, no baseball game.
What do you mean?
Game's on right now.
- 880 AM.
- I can't.
The radio's broken.
Come on, man!
Just put on the game!
One more time,
we're gonna have a real problem.
[Thud]
[Tires screeching]
Hey!
You owe me money!
Hey!
I can't tell if Ordo?ez
has more of an issue
with drunks, his car radio,
or the game of baseball.
After what happened to his arm,
he probably just wants
to tune it out.
Looking into every passenger
that gets into his cab--
it's impossible.
No priors.
No complaints from the
taxi and limousine commission.
I'm sending you his GPS logs
for the last 36 hours.
His GPS logs?
[Chuckles]
Which I'm sure you obtained
by submitting
an official request
to the TLC.
Not quite.
But if it would
make you feel better,
I could hack into their network
and make it look like I did.
It would only take me
a few minutes.
Never mind.
I'll check it
with the daily crime blotter,
let you know if anything pops.
Forever in your debt,
Detective.
Oh, and how did your date go
with Detective Beecher?
Sounded like it
really went well.
[Beep]
_
_
I just got word from Elias.
He says no more business
with with HR.
Most of them are either dead
or in jail anyway.
At this point,
you got to wonder
who's even left.
FBI investigation's
wrapping up.
My fed contact says
Donnelly's been crowing
about burying HR.
And yet, here we are.
Still, we have
a larger problem.
No one's gonna open
their mouth about us.
I made sure of that.
Make no mistake, my friend.
We are just businessmen,
and businesses run on money,
revenue.
That's gonna take some time.
We need to read in
some new talent.
Rebuild.
We made a tactical error
turning our back on Elias.
Even from jail, he is
the de facto boss of the city.
We need his backing
in order to operate.
That might be problematic.
Set a meeting.
Time we make peace,
get us walking
on the same path again
for our mutual benefit.
And a suggestion.
Should this meeting take
a less than cordial turn--
Don't worry.
I'll bring some backup.
[Phone dialing, line trilling]
Detective Fusco,
it's your lucky day.
I'm calling in a chip.
We're gonna set up a meet,
talk to Elias' guys.
Fermin's taking a pit stop,
Finch.
- Aziz.
- Fermin.
Hey, man.
Do you have it?
Yeah, I told you I'd find
a buyer for it.
Good, I need it.
I'm on my way over there now.
All right.
800 for the laptop.
You don't trust me?
Not at all.
[Laughs nervously] Okay.
Thank you.
- Thank you so much, man.
- Good luck, my friend.
Finch, I think
I know what happened
to our cabbie's savings.
He's carrying it all
around with him right now.
We must have
overlooked something.
Does he have gambling debts?
Is he dealing drugs?
Whatever it is,
it's about to go down.
Looks like he's about
to buy something,
or buy his way
out of a big hole.
Uh, Senor Mendoza.
Fermin.
_
_
Do they, uh...
have a safe way to get here?
This is the last photo I have
of my wife and son.
We have a slight problem,
Fermin.
The price has gone up.
What do you mean?
I mean, you only have
enough money
for Maria or Jorge,
but not both.
No.
Senor Mendoza, don't do this.
You know it is not safe
for them in Cuba anymore.
Maria says that the neighbors
are getting curious.
They sense that she and Jorge
are leaving soon.
If an official finds out,
they will arrest her
on suspicion.
Fermin, we've known each other
for how long?
I helped you
when everybody stopped caring.
Put you back on your feet
after the surgery
when your career was over.
These are prices
I do not control.
But how am I supposed to come up
with another $40,000?
It's the land of opportunity,
my friend.
You'll find a way.
Ordo?ez is a desperate
man, Finch.
Pushing around his cab
for the past five years,
saving up to bring his wife
and his kid here.
Sounds like
he just came up short.
Who knows
what he'd be willing to do
to get his family back?
I hacked
the Cuban Government database.
Surprisingly
sophisticated software.
No doubt,
courtesy of the Russians.
Don't tell me
Fidel Castro's really dead.
Actually, yes.
And his body double has cancer.
The Cubans keep a file
on every defector.
Apparently, Ordo?ez pitched
for the Cuban national team
from 2000 to 2005,
when he defected to the US.
Wanted a better life
for his wife and child.
Cuba was a surveillance state
long before the advent
of security cameras
and digital networking.
If they catch his family
trying to defect,
his wife can go to prison.
Explains why Ordo?ez is
so desperate
to get his family out of there.
Desperate times call
for desperate measures.
Stay close, Mr. Reese.
Ordo?ez turned off his sign.
He's not looking for a fare.
So who's he waiting for?
Acosta! Acosta!
Over here, man!
Look over here, Acosta!
Beautiful family!
Rafael Acosta.
Plays second base for New York.
Rafael Acosta?
Of course.
They defected together in '05.
Escaped from a hotel room
in the Netherlands
during an international
baseball tournament.
- Acosta--he's having
a pretty good year.
Career year, Mr. Reese.
He's top ten in OPS
among infielders
for the last three.
You're a baseball
reference machine, Finch.
You should get out more,
take in a game once in a while.
Who says I don't?
Hey, Raffi.
_
_
_
_
Yeah.
How's the shoulder, man?
Uh, it's okay.
Look, man,
I-I hate to ask,
but, you see, I, uh--
I just need a little help
with mi familia, you know?
Oh, yeah, yeah.
Of course, uh...
How are they?
I don't really know, Raffi.
You know, I haven't--
I haven't seen them
in a long time.
I'm still trying
to get them out of there.
Here you are, man.
Just, uh, toma.
Take that.
Good luck, Fermie, okay?
Baby, let's go.
Acosta ended up with
the life Ordo?ez could have had.
Now he just wants
his family back.
Detective,
the meeting with Elias' guys
is on for this morning.
- We'll come and pick you up.
- Count me out.
You got one too many skeletons
in the closet
to be calling the shots here.
Not to mention,
a couple buried in the ground.
But they can always be dug up.
Fine, I'll be there.
You don't need me for this.
You got youngblood recruit
right over there.
Have him twist
a few arms for you.
Elias knows how
to hold a grudge.
You're here because
if this thing goes sideways,
these guys are gonna want
something to shoot.
That's comforting.
Gotta say...
took some balls,
calling a meeting like this.
In the shape HR is in,
I'm not quite sure
what you have to offer anymore.
Just your goodwill.
Your boss wanted the heads
of the five families
on a stick.
Grifoni's the only one
that got away.
Last I checked,
he was in Witness Protection.
And on the back
of this photo...
his alias and present address
in nowheresville, suburbia.
And in exchange, you want what?
Elias' support
in rebuilding HR.
[Phone dialing]
Hey, it's me.
I'm at the meeting.
So here's the deal.
The boss accepts your offer...
on one condition.
We're not interested
in going out and getting him.
The boss says
you bring Grifoni to us.
Then all is forgiven.
Consider it done.
Okay, cabbie,
what were you doing here
last night
for 25 minutes?
Carter!
Whoa, now this party's
really blowing up.
Who called you?
Nobody.
I was 10/6.
But you look kind of lost
out here, Terney.
- What's the story?
- I wish someone would tell me.
What we got is, uh...
this guy.
Seems like he's been dead
about nine hours.
Multiple gunshot wounds.
No ID.
Just the clothes on his back.
Who are the suits?
[Laughs]
Secret Service.
I don't know
who tipped 'em off,
but they were
all over that body
the minute we called it in.
Detective Carter,
Homicide Task Force.
Call you back.
Agent Regina Vickers,
Secret Service.
We got an ID on the body?
No offense, but this case
is "need to know."
No offense taken.
But, uh, if a body drops
in New York City,
we're gonna have to ID it.
Vadim Pushkov,
Russian national.
What we're mainly
concerned with
is if he had anything
on his person.
Has anything turned up yet?
A laptop? A phone?
Well, just some receipts,
and, uh-- and this.
Makes you wonder
where the other half went.
But we'll keep combing
the area.
He buys a pizza bagel
at JFK yesterday afternoon
and winds up dead
in Morningside Park
at 2:00 AM with no luggage.
Any idea how he got here?
Town car? Cab?
Maybe if we find out
who drove him here,
we could find the shooter.
Or a witness.
You canvass the area and
we'll check the security cams.
We find that car,
we'll find out who did this.
[Cell phone rings] Excuse me.
[Beep] Vickers here.
Hello, Detective.
So, GPS put your driver
at Morningside Park
for a window of 25 minutes
last night,
right around the time
some Russian guy succumbs
to acute lead poisoning.
And you think our cab driver
is connected to this homicide?
Figured you could tell me.
Along with, why are
the Secret Service crawling
all over this investigation?
I have no idea.
But whatever you can find out
would be much appreciated.
Unlikely,
considering they're
about as forthcoming
with information as you are.
I'll see what I can find out.
[Car door opens]
So what do we know
about the dead Russian
in the park, Finch?
Vadim Pushkov.
If the Secret Service
is involved,
he's likely some kind
of international criminal.
Seems like our cabbie gave
the wrong guy a ride last night.
Take the 59th Street bridge
into Queens.
Do you have an address?
No address.
Just go.
I can't seem to access
this woman's phone.
Either she doesn't have one,
or it's currently turned off.
They're taking the bridge
into Queens.
Now take this all the way down
and make a right on Vernon.
Got a bad feeling
about this, Finch.
Turn right up here.
Strange place for her
to be going.
One-way street
that bottlenecks down the way.
This is good right here.
They're stopped
in the middle of the block.
She's isolated him, Finch.
Uh, $11.50.
First, a few questions.
Excuse me?
A friend of mine
was in your cab last night.
Do you recognize him?
Uh, I see a lot of people...
every day.
Pushkov.
You drove him.
Did he leave anything behind?
Do not lie to me.
Look, lady,
I turn in the cab every night.
Uh, if someone did leave
anything in here,
I didn't find it.
[Phone dials]
_
[Car door opens]
[Car door opens]
Sorry, I'm not in service.
Here's the thing.
You're gonna want
to give me a lift anyway.
Listen, I'm having
a pretty lousy day, okay?
You mind, uh, just getting out?
I'm afraid it's gonna get
a whole lot worse, Fermin.
[Gun clicks]
I don't want any trouble.
Unfortunately, you and I don't
have much to say on that matter.
Now listen up.
We're about ready
to be boxed in by two cars.
Four to six shooters.
I want you to aim for the rear
quarter panel of their car,
and don't let off the gas,
you got that?
Now's a good time, Fermin.
- Wait, what?
- Now, Fermin.
[Tires screeching]
Mr. Reese, are you okay?
I'm fine, Finch.
But I think
the real threat just found us.
What the hell is going on?
Who are those people?
Mr. Reese, the blonde
who led him into the trap
made a call
just after leaving the cab.
I can't quite make it out.
[Female voice murmuring]
But I believe it's Estonian.
Estonian mob.
I recognize their methods.
It was a kill box.
Had a similar experience
in Russia.
Didn't work out
too well for them.
[Grunts]
Disabled the GPS.
Can't risk them accessing it
to track you down.
Who are you?
Just a guy who needed a ride.
That woman asked
about a passenger
in your cab last night.
His name is Pushkov.
What happened to him?
I don't know this Pushkov!
I'm just a cab driver!
What, you're gonna lie to me
like you lied to that woman?
There's a big difference here,
Fermin.
I'm the only one who can
help you, you understand?
So why are you helping me?
Maybe you're an honest guy
who just made a mistake.
But you need to decide
whether your life's worth more
than whatever that guy left
in your cab.
Okay.
I picked this guy up
near the airport, huh?
We drove around for a while.
He seemed nervous.
He spoke in Russian
on his cell phone.
- You understand Russian?
- A little.
My grandfather spoke it
when I was a kid in Cuba.
It sounded like he was trying
to sell something.
He called it, uh, "H-said,"
or-- or-- or "travelers."
I didn't know
what he was talking about.
That blonde lady said
he left something in your cab.
What was it?
I'm not a cop here, Fermin,
but if you want my help,
you need to tell me
what he left in your cab.
He left a laptop.
He left it underneath the seat.
He must have forgot.
What'd you do with it?
I sold it...
to a friend for money.
Look, I never do that,
but--
I drive him around all day
and then he stiffed me
on the tab.
- Finch, are you there?
- Always, Mr. Reese.
Sounds like this Pushkov had
some kind of a deal
to sell the laptop
to the Estonians.
But then he leaves it
in the cab?
He knew it would be dangerous.
He wanted to negotiate
a higher price.
Clearly, the Estonians
were in no mood to negotiate.
What in the world could be
on that laptop?
- Who are you talking to?
- My business partner.
Estonians don't care
if he doesn't have the laptop.
They'll kill him
just because he knew about it.
Just because of a laptop?
Because of what was on it,
and getting it back
may be the only leverage we have
to keep you alive.
Let's start
with the friend you sold it to.
Finch, looks like the Estonians
have been here already.
Aziz?
Sorry, Fermin.
I sold him the laptop.
I got him killed.
- Is the laptop still here?
- I don't think so.
He told me he found a buyer
this morning.
He paid me my share.
Mr. Mansoor sold the laptop
before his demise
at the hands of the Estonians.
They trashed this place
looking for it.
How'd they know to come here?
Pushkov may have installed
a beacon
that turns on
when you power it up.
Anyone with an access code
could follow it geographically.
And they're willing
to kill anyone
who comes in contact with it.
I've gotten
into Aziz's email account.
It appears
that he sold the laptop
to an online buyer
named "d3mn8."
Any way we can track him?
If d3mn8 discovers
what's on the laptop,
he may try to flip it.
In which case, he'd probably go
to the darknet,
try to sell it on Silk Road
or one of those
black market forums.
I'll try to track him down,
see if I can negotiate
a meeting.
What about Aziz?
The NYPD will be here
shortly...
Find out who did this
to your friend.
We better get moving.
'Cause you're gonna be next.
[Cell phone rings]
Let me guess,
your driver confessed to killing
the Russian in the park.
Not exactly.
You want the good news
or the bad news?
Start with the good.
Pushkov was killed
by the Estonian mob.
They're chasing a laptop
he left in our driver's cab.
Which explains
the Secret Service
swarming the body.
Why do they want
this laptop so bad?
Don't know yet,
but they're willing
to kill anyone who comes
in contact with it.
Keep an eye out for a blonde.
She runs point for them.
I'll pull our analytical brief
on the Estonians.
Now, what's the bad news?
They just dropped another body.
I'll text you the address.
I never should have taken
that laptop.
Oh, I knew this whole thing
was a mistake!
No matter what I do,
nothing seems to turn out right.
You mean, how you chose
to get involved
with a smuggler like Mendoza?
Wh-- Mendoza was our contact.
When we defected,
he arranged everything
for us ballplayers.
He brought us all the way
to New York.
In exchange, he takes
a cut of your contract
when you get paid?
Mendoza said that's the way
it worked.
He promises the Moon.
I thought baseball,
this country,
was gonna make me rich,
but this game...
you know, it lies to you.
And once you got injured,
it was over.
You can't play,
you can't make money.
You become a nobody.
So Mendoza figured
he'd find another way
to get his money out of you.
- Your family.
- Yeah, he said he'd help.
But now he's sticking it to me.
He doesn't care.
Sometimes I wish
that I'd never left Cuba.
You did a brave thing.
Leaving to find
a better life for your family.
American dream, right?
You get a good job,
you buy a house.
I'd trade all that in
just to see my family
one more time.
To see my son grow up,
you know?
Ah, he doesn't even know
who I am anyway.
I can help you
make things right, Fermin.
But you've got to trust me.
Do I have a choice?
This CI of yours...
How does he know
the Estonians killed Pushkov?
They're hunting
a laptop he had on him.
You know what's on that thing?
- Do you, Detective?
- Not yet.
But I'm getting
a strong premonition
that whatever it is,
it can embarrass the Government.
Am I right?
Look, I'm only trying to help.
Vadim Pushkov was a lone wolf
hacker extraordinaire.
We first noticed him
five years ago.
He stole over 100,000
credit card numbers.
The next time he turned up,
he hacked into
a drone pilot station in Nevada
and sold the flight control
encryption protocol online
to a buyer in Pakistan.
So, he showed up
on your radar again,
and you guys hoped to catch him
before he sold
whatever he stole.
Problem is, we have no idea
what Pushkov was up to
this time.
[Cell phone beeps]
Afraid to even think
about what would happen
if the contents of that laptop
slipped into the wrong hands.
You might want to come with me.
Where are we going?
Body dropped
at a computer store
in the East Village.
Last guy to sell the laptop.
Mr. Reese, my search
for d3mn8 continues.
But I think
I may have discovered
what was on Pushkov's laptop.
What is it, Finch?
Detective Carter said
they found a $275 receipt
on Pushkov
for short-term parking at JFK.
$275?
Nothing short-term about that.
No, and he wasn't flying
anywhere.
So if Ordo?ez heard him say
"H-said,"
it's possible
that he's speaking about
the Homeland Security Automated
Identification Database.
My best guess is
he stole information
on a huge number of travelers...
Addresses, FBI clearances,
biometric data.
Means they could sneak
whoever they wanted
directly into the country
using stolen credentials.
Terrorists could get
their hands on this.
A breach like that
only has value
if no one knows about it.
Which is why they're
killing everybody
that comes in contact
with the laptop.
[Computer chimes]
Uh, my suspicions
are confirmed.
I found the laptop listed
on a darknet IRC channel
frequented by d3mn8.
He's trying to sell it
for $50,000.
He's discovered
what he's got in his hands
and what it's worth.
If he lives that long.
I'll try to make a buy,
set up a meet.
Mr. Reese, I've managed
to connect with d3mn8
on the black market.
We've agreed on a price
for the laptop.
Sending you the address now
to meet up with him
for the buy.
What is this place?
Finch, there's no one here.
This place is empty.
What do you mean, empty?
We may be the only ones
in this room...
but we're not alone.
We're being watched.
[Cell phone rings]
[Beep]
Fusco.
Bowman will swing by
and pick you up.
You two will get the package,
deliver it as planned.
Hey, listen, I've been
thinking about this.
I can't do it.
I got to keep my nose clean...
because I'm no good to you
locked up.
Oh, I'm sure we'd find
something for you
to do with yourself, Lionel.
Besides, you're not
that much good to me as it is.
No, I'm sorry,
I just can't do it.
No?
Okay, Lionel.
You've sealed your fate.
[Dial tone]
[Beep]
[Computer chimes]
_
_
[Cell phone beeps]
_
Mr. Reese, I've just had
a message from d3mn8.
He's called off the sale.
Apparently, he doesn't like
the way you look.
What the hell's wrong
with the way I look?
He says you look like a fed.
He's voided the transaction.
That laptop may be
our only hope
of getting Ordo?ez's life back.
D3mn8 isn't as smart
as he thinks he is.
Now he's in grave danger too.
I piggybacked on the signal
from his camera
and traced it back
to where he is right now.
I have an address
at Yeongson Pool Hall.
I guess our Estonian friends
are looking for d3mn8 too,
Finch.
We're gonna be delayed.
[Grunting]
Mr. Reese?
Whoa.
[Grunting]
I might have to meet d3mn8
on my own.
Want to go for a ride?
Come on.
[Bear barks]
[Keypad tones]
[Line trilling]
[Grunting]
[Cell phone rings]
Yes, Lionel?
[Grunting over phone]
This a bad time?
Kinda.
I'll call you back.
[Dial tone]
[Beeping]
[Phone dials, line trilling]
Yeah?
Okay, fine.
What time you want to do this?
This is
the security camera footage
we took
from the computer store.
We have Aziz Mansoor leaving
with the laptop.
About 45 minutes later,
he returns without it.
No laptop, hmm.
He must have sold it.
But look at this.
- 20 minutes later...
- She's in the file.
Estonian operator
named Irina Kapp.
Interpol issued a red notice
on her six months ago.
She walks out,
ten minutes later,
Mr. Mansoor dies
in a hail of bullets.
Hmm.
Our little angel of death.
Yeah?
I'm here to meet someone.
Who are you?
And what do you want?
I brought the money.
But you're not him.
- You're not d3mn8.
- What do you know?
I know that he's sitting
right over there.
And if he's gonna remotely
monitor a wireless camera
with his phone,
[Raises voice]
He should take better care
to encrypt its IP address.
Whoa.
[Bear barks]
You don't want to do that.
[Bear growls]
Thank you.
(Dutch) Sit.
- Let's see the money.
- I'm new at this sort of thing.
But I'm guessing I'm supposed
to see the laptop first.
You're not with the Estonians.
No, I'm not.
You tried
to buy the laptop earlier.
But I didn't like
the way your partner looked.
So you arranged to make
a deal with the Estonians,
thinking they would pay more.
You'd be wrong.
[Latches click]
100,000.
Small bills.
Double your asking price.
What's the catch?
The catch...
Albert,
is that you leave
this very second,
disappear, and don't show
your face for at least a year.
Especially not
at your mom's house in Queens,
where you presently reside.
Take your money
and go far, far away.
Some very bad people
want that laptop.
And if they know
you've even seen it,
they will kill you.
So that's the catch, Albert.
Then why would you want it?
Let me worry about that.
Take your money.
Go. Now.
Sorry, Finch.
Got distracted.
Where's the pool hall?
Did you get the laptop?
Yes, I'm here,
and I have the laptop,
Mr. Reese.
But I'm afraid you'd better come
rather quickly.
I think you have something
that belongs to me.
Did you open it?
I don't have to.
I know what's on it.
And I know
I'll never let you take it.
At any price.
I do like men with glasses.
Too bad.
[Bear barking]
Shoot the dog.
I wouldn't do that, fellas.
[Customers screaming]
[Grunting]
[Woman screams]
Mr. Reese!
(Dutch) Attack
Ah!
[Bear snarls, growls]
Nice try.
Little high...
and outside,
but it still got there.
Heel.
Good boy, good boy.
Hey, Carter...
you missed all the fun.
Where have you been?
Feds just got a hit on that
blonde woman's cell phone
at a Korean pool hall.
I'm guessing you guys
are there?
So you got to clear out.
Don't suppose you could
give us a ride?
Grifoni should be
coming out soon.
[Cell phone rings]
Hey, give me a second,
will you? It's my ex.
I got to tell her
I'm gonna be late
picking up my kid.
Yeah.
Yeah, Fusco.
Hello, Lionel.
Long time no speak.
Hey, what's going on?
You called me, Lionel.
Remember?
I'm calling you back.
Yeah, sorry about that.
I've been, uh, kind of buried
on this case.
Yeah, well, we could've used
your help on this one too.
What do you want?
Nah, it's--
it's nothing.
Don't worry about it.
Everything's fine.
Great.
Glad we could talk.
Gotta go.
Yeah, me too.
[Beep]
[Knock on car door]
Here we go.
You all right?
You look like crap.
Yeah, I'm fine.
Here he comes.
We'll take him at the car.
[Chuckles]
Wait a second.
Is he laughing?
What the hell's so funny,
Grifoni?
I'm laughing...
'cause I ain't the one who's
about to get hit.
Sorry, fellas.
Elias told me
you might be coming.
Ever since I screwed up,
I've been trying
to work my way back
into his good graces.
Kinda like you and HR.
Oh, well.
And you...
Elias wants you
to take a message back
to your pal Simmons and HR.
No sign of Irina Kapp anywhere.
And no one knows anything
about the laptop.
It's still out there
on the black market.
You are not a librarian, huh?
Don't worry about your cab.
A brand-new one's on its way.
And before I forget...
I owe you cab fare for the day.
Think you're gonna like
your tip.
Agent Vickers,
this gentleman's name is
Fermin Ordo?ez.
I've been told he was very
instrumental
in tracking down the Estonians
who killed Pushkov and Mansoor.
Thank you for your help.
Uh, you're welcome.
It also sounds like
he may have something
you've been looking for.
Really?
Where is it?
Maybe he can get it to us,
if we can help him out
with something.
And what's that?
It'll just take
a little bit of money
and some help
from the Coast Guard.
[Bear barks]
[Crowd cheering]
_
_
_
(Spanish) Good, good.
[Bear barks, whimpers]
(Spanish) Go back.
[Laughs, speaks Spanish]
Well done.
Don't know
how you pulled that one off.
It sure feels good.
(Dutch) Drop.
Yeah.
I got my own bag of tricks.
[Spanish] Come here.
Guess so.
But I have to ask you...
What's going on with Lionel?
What do you mean?
No reason.
I'll keep an eye on him.
[Bear whimpers]
Thanks.
[Whistles]
[Bear barks]
What the hell happened
out there?
You tell me.
'Cause they knew
we were coming for him.
We got double-crossed.
The part I don't get...
they shot bowman,
but they let you
just walk away.
'Cause they want me
to send HR a message.
Elias said, "go to hell."
Quite frankly,
I second the motion.
[Phone rings]
Carter.
Wait, whoa, whoa, whoa.
Who is this?
What do you mean by that?
Wait, hold on.
Whoa.
- What's that about?
- Anonymous tip.
- About what?
- Davidson.
The IA detective
that disappeared last February.
Said he was murdered...
by another cop.