The Blacklist (2013–…): Season 4, Episode 12 - Natalie Luca (No. 184) - full transcript

The team tracks down a killer who imparts a fatal disease on her victims.




You're new.


Roll over.


What's your name?

- Zack.
- Zack.

Hi. I see you're ready.

What happened to the new girl?

What new girl?

How much?

Smoll was cleaning over $200 million.
How much was lost?

All of it.

Thank you, Abe.



Transactions vital to my interests

failed to be tendered.

What kinds of transactions?

It seems a bid I made on
the Whistler Cruise Line

wasn't tendered because
my accountant dropped dead

before he could transfer the funds.

In addition, millions are missing

that the same accountant was
in the process of laundering.

I think I've heard enough.

It appears my operation is under siege.

And this affects the fate
of the free world how?

Not at all.

However, in order for me to
be useful to your task force,

I have to maintain a certain...

stature in the criminal underworld.

From time to time,

I am compelled to rely on your bureau's

support in that endeavor.

This is one of those times.

The interest I hope to acquire
from Whistler Cruise Line

was sold to a longstanding
rival, Baldur Magnusson.

Rumors have circulated that
he assassinated my accountant

to secure the deal.

What do you need from us?

Some help to determine who
murdered my man, Zack Smoll.

If I can't staunch the bleeding
Smoll's death has precipitated,

all of our work could come to
a grinding and permanent halt.

I'm under attack, Elizabeth,

and I need to find out by whom.

Roughly 14 hours ago,

Zack Smoll was found dead in
the Gentle Bliss Massage Parlor.

M.E.'s preliminary
report describes symptoms

consistent with acute meningitis.

How does Reddington know Smoll

didn't contract meningitis naturally?

He didn't say, but if he's
coming to us with this,

it means he's desperate.

You may feel you're paid enough
to serve the public's interests

and Reddington's.

Personally, I don't.

If someone killed
Reddington's accountant,

you think he's gonna want
us to just put him in jail?

I mean, the second we
find him, he's gonna insist

that we hand him over

so he can make an example
by murdering him.

I agree. Agent Keen?

Tell Reddington he's on his own.

Uh, guys?

Smoll's body's just
been flagged by the CDC.

They've rerouted it to a
level 4 bio-containment lab.

- What does that mean?
- It means whatever killed Smoll

is a lot more dangerous than meningitis.

Get to the CDC. See
what you can find out.

Any idea what we're dealing with?

Luschen's disease. It's a
form of viral meningitis.

Symptoms include sudden
high fever, stiffened neck,

reddish-purple rash, seizure,

respiratory failure, and death.

- How contagious is it?
- This strain's mutated such that

it's transmitted via physical contact...

Sweat, saliva, even the
lightest touch can be lethal.

Good news is it doesn't
survive outside a host.

Symptoms present almost
immediately after exposure

followed by death in only minutes.

Which is, ironically, the one
saving grace of the disease.

- How so?
- It can't travel.

The victim's incapacitated
before he can transmit it.

- So how did Smoll get infected?
- Lipstick.

We found traces of it
around the victim's mouth.

Based on the sample,

whoever left it behind
should've been dead long before

she had the chance to
even kiss our victim.

So who is she? Why isn't she dead?

Well, for the moment, Agent Ressler,

that remains a mystery.

Oh, oh, oh. I found our suspect.

Good for you.

Okay, um, what... what's going on?

Nothing. I'm fine.

Really? Because you seem upset.

And, um, and before, uh, with Mr. Cooper

about not getting paid enough...

I just lost it in front
of the ladies in payroll.

They gave me your check
instead of mine because,

you know, we both have brown faces.

I'm, uh, I'm sure that was a mistake...

- You make 32% more than I do.
- Oh, you opened my check?

I have a PhD from the
London School of Economics.

Well, maybe it's because you're on loan

- from Mossad.
- I have the same clearances

- and responsibilities.
- Actually, technically...

- And people actually shoot at me.
- That is true.

Okay, you should probably
say something to Agent Cooper.

Say what?

Aram has a suspect.

Yes. Uh, the suspect.

Uh, the suspect, yes.

Okay, so I found a partial
angle from a security camera

behind the massage parlor.

Check it out.

Okay, now the CDC has only one other

recorded outbreak of
Luschen's in the U.S.

A pawnbroker in Maryland.

The local coroner wrote
it off as natural causes,

but the weird thing is,
his pawnshop was robbed

the day he died.

So... I dug up some security
feeds, and look who was there.

Same woman at both outbreaks.

One, a robbery, the
other an assassination.

And a bad disguise at both.

What if it's not a disguise?

Look at the time code, it's July.

In Maryland, it must've been 90 degrees.

So either she's sick,
she has fevers, chills,

or she doesn't want anyone else
to get sick so she's using it

as a protective covering
to mitigate contagion.

So she's not trying to start a pandemic.

Well, whatever she's doing,
if we don't find her soon,

someone else is gonna
die in the process.

I wish there was another way.

It's okay.

But we need it for the next stage.

It's okay. You don't have to explain.

This is what we both want.

Just do it.

What do you want?

Are the rumors true
that you're responsible

for the death of my
accountant, Zack Smoll?

The truth doesn't matter.

It's about appearances.

And at the moment, it
appears to virtually everyone

who gives a damn that I killed Smoll.

And your failure to retaliate
is proof of your weakness.

Whether I killed him
or not is immaterial.

You have no choice but to come for me.

- And you for me.
- Which begs the question,

why bother with a phone call?

Because we've known each
other for a long time.

We understand each
other's organizations.

If Cristobal acted
without your authority

or someone forced your hand, tell me.

We can try and sort it out.

After all, you're a bit long
in the tooth for a street brawl.

You think so?

I've reviewed the case file you sent.

And you've got something?

You know, many ancient cultures
shared a common figure...

a god or demon who brought
disease to humanity.

The Finns called her Loviatar,

the Yoruba people knew her as Shapona.

The Greeks, of course,
immortalized Pandora.

Odd that they're always women.

Have you every heard of Mary Mallon?

Should I have?

She was a cook for the New York
elite in the late 19th century.

When an alarming number
of high society swells

came down with typhoid
fever, a research scientist

traced the outbreak to a
woman with the rare ability

to carry the disease
without suffering its effects

or exhibiting any outward symptoms...

- earning her the name...
- Typhoid Mary.


You're looking for asymptomatic
carrier of Luschen's disease.

To find your suspect you,
need to know when and where

was the outbreak that she survived.

And hurry. There's a
reason the plague bringers

were the most feared
among the ancient deities.

You've got that little
crease between your brow.

Right here.

It always happens when you're upset.

The spinal tap didn't yield the results

that I was expecting.

And... and we still need
specialized equipment.

Which means that...

More money.

More people.

I found another opportunity

that we... we can handle,

that you can handle, I'm sure of it.

Please. Look at me.

I'm gonna figure this out. I swear it.

I just need a little bit more time.

We're so close.

All right, baby. Home sweet home.

All right, come on, you.

Please excuse the intrusion.

She's not here.

I'm not here to see Elizabeth.

What do you know about Edgar Legate?

When it comes to assassins,
he's the gold standard.

- Nobody's ever seen the guy.
- Precisely.

Because he doesn't exist.

Legate is an elaborate fiction,

a bogeyman I created.

No. No, Legate is real.

All right? I know of at
least six jobs the guy's done.

Or so you believe.

Edgar Legate is nothing
more than a name I employ

to take credit for
various killings for which

I or my associates are responsible.

One of my competitors, Baldur Magnusson,

is actively seeking a reliable

independent contractor to kill me,

someone I won't see coming.

I think Legate would
fit the bill nicely.

- And you want me to become Legate?
- I thought maybe.

Forget it.

I'm not gonna play
dress-up assassin so you can

kill someone I've never met.

I don't need you to become
Legate to kill Magnusson.

I need you to become Legate so Magnusson

will hire you to kill me.

You want me to deliver him to you?


If you can find a sitter.

I wanna talk to you after this.

Yeah, sure.

So I looked into Reddington's
Typhoid Mary angle

and I found something.

The first recorded outbreak
of Luschen's in human beings

occurred in rural Moldova in 2002.

A family of nine wiped out
except for one daughter...

Natalie Luca.

She was taken to a local clinic,

but the outbreak was deemed
too much for them to handle.

- How did she get out of Moldova?
- The World Health Organization

called in Hawthorne Biologics,

a company that specializes in
infectious disease response.

They brought the girl back
to their research clinic

outside Alexandria
for further treatment.

I had no idea Natalie was
capable of anything like this.

We care for dozens of
patients who are too infectious

to live outside of strict quarantine.

Out of all of them...

...Natalie was the
sweetest, the kindest.

If she was so infectious,
how come she's at large?

We did our best to give
her a normal life.

But she was young,
determined to be independent.

We did everything we could
to dissuade her from leaving.

But eventually, we had no choice
but to comply with her wishes.

How is that possible?

She was infected with
a deadly contagion.

We had no legal right to hold her.

She was young...

she was in love.

In love? With who?

Malik Roumain.

He was a promising
young bio research tech.

They're here.

But they couldn't touch each other?

No. It's hard to imagine

in the absence of physical contact,

but certainly not impossible.

He advocated for her,
agreed to take responsibility

for her quarantine, see to her needs.

We agreed to a year-long
break from testing

in exchange for Malik
submitting regular reports.

Until you called, we had
no idea they were gone.

The reports kept coming
in, so we assumed they were

still at the house we'd provided.

It turns out, they moved out months ago.

You didn't check on them?

We wanted to respect their privacy.

If you need anything further from me,

please don't hesitate to call.

If anything were to
happen to this child,

I don't know that I'll
be able to forgive myself.

If I were you,

I'd be more worried about what
might happen to everyone else.

Hi. I'm so sorry,

but we're doing this
scavenger hunt for my sorority,

- and I need to kiss two guys with a gun.
- Seriously?

- I know. It's stupid.
- Do your worst.

So does your friend have a gun, too?

If you had allowed me secure
the facility as I requested,

Malik never could've broken
her out in the first place.

We agreed your men would've
drawn unnecessary attention.

- Enough.
- What did you tell the FBI?

That Natalie voluntarily
chose to leave with Malik.

They have no reason to suspect
the true nature of our research.

It's only a matter of time
before the FBI find them.

Then make sure you're
there when they do.

Perhaps it would be best

to temporarily suspend our research.

Out of the question.

Our top priority at this point
is recovering Natalie alive.

- Understand?
- Yep.

Malik Roumain... Born
to immigrant parents.

Full-boat to Berkeley at
17. The American dream.

By 23, he had his PhD in biochemistry

from Johns Hopkins and turned down

a number of highly paid offers

to accept a post-doc at Hawthorne.

Hawthorne claims that he and
Natalie fell for each other

- while he was working there.
- Talk about forbidden love.

There was another attack.

An armored truck was
taken down in Bethesda.

The CDC's already on site.

They should have something for us soon.


Cooper called me in.

Apparently the ladies in
accounting were not too thrilled

with my freakout.

Did you tell him why you freaked out?

Yeah, he offered me a raise. 16%.

- That's fantastic.
- I'd still make less than you.

Okay, but, you know, it's a start.

No, it isn't. It's an
insult. I turned it down.

He's here.

All clear.

- Excuse me.
- Huh?

Wrong door, sir.

You're the ugliest
chambermaid I've ever seen.

Myron, my sincere condolences.

- Who died?
- You did.

I need Baldur Magnusson to
believe Edgar Legate is in town.

And what better way to
announce that than by

making him believe Legate

killed a larcenist of your stature.

And what better place for
the deadly deed to occur

than the flagship hotel
Magnusson owns and operates.

By the time our little
charade is finished,

Magnusson will be scouring the town

desperate to hire your killer.

Not to worry, Myron, we'll have
you out of there in a jiffy.

You'll be ordering room
service and watching the game

with my associates before you know it.

You'll provide the body,
we'll provide the evidence.

The CDC confirmed the victims
of the armored truck robbery

died of Luschen's.

Witnesses saw a 2006 dark red Ford van,

partial plate... 7-Mike-Echo-6.

Okay, the vehicle is
registered under a Alec Moore.

That's him. He must've
registered the car under an alias.

- Okay, pulling up his address...
- Samar, Ressler, get over there.

Liz, pull together a Hazmat team.

Have them meet them at the location.

Can I help you, sir?

As a matter of fact, you can.

I believe this man checked out
of your hotel earlier today.

He's an old friend, and
I completely lost my head

and forgot our appointment.

I was wondering if you could
tell me where he was headed.

The airport, perhaps? Train station?

Or was he driving himself?

I'm afraid I don't know.

And even if I did, I would not
be at liberty to say. I'm sorry.

Keep it.

Discretion is a rare

and tragically undervalued quality.


Reddington was here looking
for one of the guests,

Michel Badot.

He was there when they
removed the body, watching.

- It's Legate.
- What do you want me to do?

Secure Legate.

I want a word.

Police! Open up!

Agent Ressler!

What the hell is this place?

- You got it.
- Yeah.

It cost everything that we got.

But if I can isolate the
enzymes, we'll be able to...

What is it?

What's wrong?

- They found the house.
- Who?

The cops. They have all of
our equipment and our research.

- Well, what should we do?
- What can we do?

Natalie, we have to
start all over again.

Malik, I'm sure there's
something we c...

- Natalie, just...
- Don't!

I'm sorry.

I love you, Natalie.

There's nothing that
I wouldn't do for you.

You know that.

We'll... we'll start again.


Another job.

One that I heard about from Hawthorne,

and I wouldn't be asking
if I knew that it wasn't

absolutely necessary, and it is.

But it's the only way.

But after this,

I won't have to hurt anyone else?

No. Never again. I promise.

I'll take your hand in mine.

And I'll pull you closer.

I'll feel your breath against my skin.

And I kiss you.

The two of us.


Monsieur Legate.

My employer would like a word with you.

It appears he was trying
to isolate the enzyme

in her blood that shields
her from Luschen's.

He was trying to replicate her immunity.

- A cure?
- No, the opposite.

The boyfriend was
trying to infect himself

so he could be immune like her.

He was willing to give
himself an incurable disease

so they could touch and
kiss and be together.

Typhoid Mary, meet Typhoid Larry.

The pawnshop in Maryland,
the armored car driver.

They were robbing people
to pay for their research.

I get that, but what I don't
get is what any of this has to do

with Reddington's man, Smoll.

What are we looking at?

Okay, I pulled these from...
from one of Malik's hard drives.

They're blueprints for a compound

in Sag Harbor, New York,
owned by an offshore trust.

Now, he also had a number of
dossiers, including these...

All right, Francois Troyet,

owner of the world's
largest private collection

of post-Impressionist art.

William Lawsover, a billionaire
corporate debt restructurer.

Caitlin Montag,

gajillionaire author of the
Buddy Chanticleer novels.

The writing is atrocious,
but I can't put them down.

Other than being rich,

what do these three have in common?

Xavier Holcombe's annual poker bash.

An all cash, no limit marathon
with positively obscene stakes.

- How obscene? - Buy-in
is half a million,

quite the research grant
for our star-crossed outlaws.

I bought in on a lark three years ago.

Lost my... well, no one
has a shirt that expensive.

Nevertheless, I had a ball.

It's a weekend of delicious isolation

and degenerate risk... Heaven.

Just like everything
else is to you. A game.

- Where's Tom?
- Belgium.

You know, Tom and I were
just starting to find

some semblance of normalcy.

And you had to just sweep in,

drag him back down your rabbit hole.

There must be dozens
of contract operatives

just like him. Why him?

Tom is very good at what he does.

It defines him.

He can no sooner choose to
stop than a great white shark

can choose to stop swimming and eating.

He will do what he does.

But at least if he's doing it for me,

he won't risk a double-cross,

unlike with the vast majority
of his prospective employers.

Because unlike them, I
genuinely care for him.

Or rather you, and your daughter.

Holcombe's game commences
precisely at 6:00.

You don't have much time.

Care for a claw?

Hmm. No, thanks.

As I told your goons...

Oh, tut, tut. Don't be uncharitable.

These gentlemen are seasoned
professionals like yourself,

Monsieur Edgar... Legate.

I don't insist on the Monsieur.

That Saudi oil minister
in Kuala Lumpur...

How on earth did you manage that one?

I don't discuss the details of my work.

I appreciate that,

particularly as I wish
to engage your services.

You know, I usually require
a referral for a new client,

but, uh, I might be able
to make an exception.


Legate works for you.

In a manner of speaking.

Well, I suppose it was inevitable,

one way or the other.

Looks like it's "the other."

Kill me and restore your reputation.

Give us a moment.

You said something before.

The truth doesn't matter,

that the only thing in
this world that matters

is just the appearance of truth.

I fear you might be right about that.

Lately I find that

the truth has become...

so elusive.

Often imaginary.

But in the end, it's all that
we're left with, isn't it?

What is real,

what you can taste and touch and feel.

The words that pass between us
as we look each other in the eye


all we have to hold on to.

The truth.

I hold it dear.

I didn't kill your accountant.

Your deal was falling apart.

I stepped in and took it.

I would've done exactly the same.

Keep the ships, Baldur.

As Rat said to Mole, "There
is nothing, absolutely nothing

half so much worth doing as
simply messing about in boats."

It's funny.

For the longest time, I've
been perfectly comfortable

knowing I could die at any moment.

I could walk out of this room
and be shot in the street.

I've always been fine with that.

But lately, I can smell
it in the air around me.

Like death is...

slouching towards me from
the corners of the room.

And I cannot tell if it is here for me.

Just an echo of the past.

I wish it had been you.

Would've been so much easier.

Raise. Three red.

Uh, oyster delivery for Mr. Holcombe.

About time. You're an hour late.

We're two minutes out.

How soon until Hazmat is on site?

10 minutes.

Raise. Three red,

three black, three red.

FBI. We have reason to believe that

your compound is under
threat of biological attack.

We need you to start
evacuating immediately.

Samar, what do you got?

There's no sign of Malik. I'm going in.

On the ground. Get on the ground! Move!

Stop, Natalie! Stop!

Don't move. No one
else has to die today.

- Malik!
- You need to come with us now.

If you wanna stop me,
you're gonna have to kill me.

Please don't make me do that.

I can't be locked up again.

Suspect's in custody.

There's no sign of Malik.

Aram, check that local
PD has shut down the roads

- 10 miles in every direction.
- On it.

And that Hazmat team we sent earlier,

- they should be there any minute.
- No, Hazmat's already transported her.

- What are you talking about?
- The Hazmat team.

The Hazmat team is already en route.

Oh, my God.

We have gone through quite
a lot of trouble to find you,

young lady.

You're the most valuable
asset in our portfolio.

Fortunately, the FBI was
kind enough to lend an assist

and lead us straight to you.

I won't go back there.


Okay, yeah, yeah, yeah. Okay.

Come on now. All right, uh,
satellite's coming around now.

Okay, they're heading
southeast on Holly Knoll Drive.

They're about 200 yards
past mile marker 46.

Okay, weird.

There's another vehicle trying
to push them off the road.

Uh, okay, now both vehicles
are off the roadway.

They're about 1/4 mile before marker 45.

I thought I lost you.

Are you okay?


What do we do now?

We'll go in the woods. We'll find a car.

- Don't move!
- Aah!


- Oh, God.
- Don't!

We need help!

I'm sorry.

- I'm so sorry. I was wrong.
- No.

I was so wrong.

No. No.

I never should've made you...

I would've done anything to be with you.

Oh, I take your hand in mine.

So soft.

And I pull you close.

I feel your breath against my skin.

And I kiss you.

The two of us...


Give her a minute.

I can describe every tile
in the room they kept me in.

For 13 years, I was
just a medical curiosity.

But then, there was Malik.

He was the only one who
really saw me, not the subject,


me, Natalie.

What made you leave?

At first, we thought the
research they were doing

was our best chance at being together.

But when Malik learned
what Whitehall was doing...

- Whitehall?
- Hawthorne's weapons lab.

They weren't trying to cure me.

They were using me,

my cells,

to develop a biological weapon.

So why didn't you go to the authorities?

Hawthorne had contracts
with the government.

We didn't know who we could trust.

I'm sorry.


We're really sorry for all those people.

I know.

It was one of the most romantic

things I've ever seen.

He died in her arms.

It was like an episode of...

I don't know. Some show.

But the point is, it made me
feel a little sorry for myself,

that I didn't have someone like that.

What, to die in your arms?

And then I started
thinking about my raise.


That's an odd number.

And then I thought it's
exactly half of the difference

between what you and I make.

I went down to the ladies in accounting,

and they never talked to Cooper.

You did.

You gave me half of your 32%.

Now we get paid equally.

- I don't want your money.
- Why not? You were right.

We do the same thing.

No, we don't.

I-I know. You put your life on the line.

- What you do...
- No, I'm sure you deserve more.

It's just I have
this... this student loan

and this online poker debt...

What you did, no one
else would do for me.

I'd do anything for you.

I know.

Which is why I have no reason
to feel sorry for myself.

How'd it go?

Honestly, it was great.

I was thinking about what you
said, about why I needed that.

Truth is, I still don't know.

But what I do know

is that this family's the most
important thing in my life.

I don't wanna lose it.

We just arrested a woman who...

would've done anything to
stay with the person she loved,


she lost him anyway.

I'm not going anywhere.

That's not what I meant.

From the beginning, we've
been fighting secrets and...

agendas and...

psychotic homicidal killers

coming between us.

And for the first time, we're together,

and we've got no one to fight.

But it still feels...

Like we're coming apart?

I know this family is the
most important thing to you.

But it's not gonna work if
you can't be who you are.

- I guess I'm just scared.
- Of what?

I'm not gonna love that person.

Do you love me?


Then you love that person.

Because that's who I am.

I understand that the
work we do depends on you.

So I'm going to allow
this, but understand this...

We are sworn officers of the law.

Do not expect us again
to carry your water.

You work for us, not
the other way around.

Is that clear?

I'm sorry to have put you

in such a difficult position, Harold.

Who are you?

Losing someone we love is painful.

Agonizing even unto death.

The Japanese call it tako-tsubo...

a grieving surge of...

abnormal electrical waves

that causes the heart
to deflate... and contort

until it resembles a...

a fishing pot.

Hollow and cold,

an empty vessel at the...

bottom of a fathomless sea.

I'm sorry for your loss.

You have suffered enough
of that in your life.

What do you want?

The man you killed at the...

... massage parlor...

was an associate of mine.

You didn't know him, you didn't rob him.

Someone hired you to assassinate him.

She knew who I was. We had no choice.

She said if I didn't kill him,

she would tell Hawthorne
where to find us.


Isabella Stone.

Thank you.

Natalie, do you mind if
I sit here for a moment?

For the life of me, I don't
think I could get up right now.