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  02x09 - C.O.D
 Posted: 12/09/12 21:38
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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.

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 Ordoñez. 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.


[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 Ordoñez.

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.


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.


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 Ordoñez'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.


[Tires screeching]


You owe me money!


I can't tell if Ordoñez 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?


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.


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.


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.



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.


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.


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.

Ordoñez 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, Ordoñez 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 Ordoñez is so desperate to get his family out of there.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Stay close, Mr. Reese.

Ordoñez 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.


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 Ordoñez 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?


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?


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.


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.


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.


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.


Nothing short-term about that.

No, and he wasn't flying anywhere.

So if Ordoñez 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]



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]


[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 Ordoñez'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.


Mr. Reese?



I might have to meet d3mn8 on my own.

Want to go for a ride? Come on.

[Bear barks]

[Keypad tones]

[Line trilling]


[Cell phone rings]

Yes, Lionel?

[Grunting over phone]

This a bad time?


I'll call you back.

[Dial tone]


[Phone dials, line trilling]


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.


Our little angel of death.


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.


[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]


[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, 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.


Glad we could talk.

Gotta go.

Yeah, me too.


[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.


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 Ordoñez.

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.


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.


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]



[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]


Wait, whoa, whoa, whoa. Who is this?

What do you mean by that?

Wait, hold on.


What's that about?

Anonymous tip.

About what?


The IA detective that disappeared last February.

Said he was murdered... by another cop.

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