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.

This is the best day of my life.

[Sighs]

[Chuckles]

Listen, Candi, I just want to say...

I think you're really special.

Hey! What--

Don't you knock?

You stole our money. We want it back.

Are you the Nigerian scammers?

I can't believe you're actually Nigerian.

500 bucks. Now.

Candi... you set me up? I thought we had something.

Hey, come on, g-guys.

[Door opens, closes]

It's not technically a crime to scam a scammer!

But it is a crime to cut out a man's intestines.

And make him wear them as a hat.

Wait, you plan to kill me?

Probably.

Okay, that's a big mistake.

Yeah, you better get out of here.

Right now, while you still can.

[Door slams open, dog barking]

Aah!

[Both grunting]

[Dog whimpers]

Oh!

Oh, okay. Okay.

We have to stop meeting like this.

I'm always so happy to see you.

Next time this happens, Leon, I'm gonna be on vacation.

I gather that Mr. Tao is intact.

He is.

Finchy!

And seemingly unfazed by his most recent brush with death.

Are you kidding? I'm distraught.

That woman ripped out my beating heart.

Let's go get me a drink.

I need to work through this.

Mr. Reese, please part ways with Leon as quickly as possible.

We've received another number.

That's the best news I've heard all day.

[Whistles] [Dog barks]

You'll have to leave immediately.

There's some travel required.

You're going to Atlantic City.

All right, Finch, I'm here.

So tell me about our new number.

His name is Lou Mitchell, a retired watch repairman.

He's a widower with no children.

His wife Marilyn died of cancer six months ago.

I'm sending you everything I was able to find.

Not much to go on, Finch.

Like many people his age, Lou has no cell phone, no email, almost no digital footprint.

We'll have to use a more hands-on approach.

Got him in my sights now.

Hey. Hey! Hey, you!

What's a guy have to do to get a little popcorn around here?

Luck isn't on Lou's side, Finch.

Looks like he's burned through some cash tonight.

Just point me in the direction of the pop secret.

I'll make it myself, huh?

Seems his game of choice is baccarat.

Ah, he enjoys the classics.

It's designed to be simple. Two hands.

Player, banker.

You guess which hand adds up closest to nine.

I was an international spy, Finch.

I know how to play baccarat.

A natural nine. Banker bet wins.

You make my arthritis flare up.

Sorry, Lou. Better luck tomorrow.

Sounds like he's a regular, Finch.

Maybe Lou has lost too much money at the Venus Casino.

We should look into his finances.

All right, let's go. Come on, dealer.

Come on, dealer.

[Whistling]

Day two. No sign of a threat.

Who would want to hurt an old man anyway?

Whoever Lou used to be, he's all bark now.

Come on, come on. I'm growing roots here.

Any luck hacking Lou's bank account?

He has no online access.

I'm having to hack his entire bank.

I'm in.

And it looks like Lou's coffers are nearly empty.

He withdrew almost everything at the time of his wife's death.

He's been living on social security ever since.

If he's gambling money he doesn't have, he could be in trouble with loan sharks.

A watch repairman without a watch and no wedding ring.

Maybe he had to pawn off all their valuables.

Seems likely that a gambling addiction is the root of the danger.

Finch, I've seen hands like Lou's before.

All of his fingers were broken.

My guess, a long time ago in Atlantic City, he could have rubbed the mob the wrong way.

Hey, Lou.

Aw, Kelly.

It's like you're pouring me into my grave.

This new stuff, it tastes like mud.

One day, Lou, I am gonna throw you right out the front door.

Face it, Kelly, you're stuck with me.

My ghost is gonna haunt this booth until the diner crumbles to the ground.

What? What? What's the matter?

The owner got an offer on the place.

That flashy casino guy, Makris, wants overflow parking or something.

Oh, God.

Well, you tell him-- you tell him he's got to go through me.

I'll show him where to park his damn cars.

I may have found something, Mr. Reese.

Lou's wedding announcement in an archival copy of the New York Journal.

1972.

Anything useful?

Seems that a friend of Marilyn's gave her away at the wedding.

If Lou was involved with the mob, her parents might not have approved.

I'll ask Carter to look into it.

I'll try to determine the extent of Lou's debts.

It may be that his gambling past is coming back to haunt him.

Lou Mitchell pops up in Jersey organized crime records in the 1970s, got his ass handed to him.

Gambling debts and arrests got him in trouble with some wise guys.

You know if those wise guys still run that part of town?

Nah, they're ancient history.

But it's even worse these days.

A lot of drug problems around the Venus Casino.

Narcotics tells me they're looking into the guy who runs the place.

Thanks, Szymanski.

You got it.

Carter, I got that disciplinary report you wanted on Detective Stills.

It's just your garden variety abuse of power.

Oh. Thanks, Terney.

You got it.

Joss.

Detective Beecher.

Hey.

So I was thinking, since you didn't shoot me on the way out to Owen Island--

Yeah, you know what? Uh, come on.

Then maybe that's your way of saying I should take you to Il Cuore.

Table on the terrace?

Can I think about it?

Mm-hmm. But think quick.

I made us a reservation Friday night.

In the meantime, maybe you can help me look into this casino.

Mr. Reese, I see you've returned to the casino.

Is Lou at the tables?

He will be soon.

To do what? He has no money.

$1,500.

Tell that to the wad of bills he just forked over to the cashier.

Looks like Lou's going further into debt.

The casino attracts regular gamblers through a loyalty card system.

If we could access Lou's, it would have information on his entire gambling history.

Any way you can hack into the system?

I've been trying since yesterday.

Casinos invest heavily in their security, and their firewalls are of the tricky sort.

But every Achilles has a heel, and theirs is greed.

Their video blackjack game is connected to the internet so that online users can lose money too.

I'm playing against you right now.

You're not doing very well.

Winning is not the goal.

The game is so eager to let me play that it's allowed my malware to slip through.

Remind me never to cross you, Finch.

Oh, don't bet against me. Bad luck.

I think you could hold your own.

I'm sending you someone to ID, Finch.

Guy acts like he owns the place.

Indeed he does. Darien Makris.

Bit of a local celebrity. He owns the casino.

Detective Carter put him on my radar.

The police have been looking into him for cocaine distribution, but he's never been charged.

Oh, jeez, I'm sorry.

Looks like I did ruin your luck.

Listen, have you tried our slots?

Come on, I'll give you a free spin.

Eric here will point you in the right direction.

[Grumbles]

Okay, I've given myself security access, so as soon as Lou swipes his card, I should be able to view his history remotely.

Mr. Reese, Lou's lost nearly $2,000 a day for the last six months.

Over $320,000 and counting.

How does someone on a fixed income accrue that kind of debt?

The real question is, how the hell did Lou get all that money in the first place?

Lou must be borrowing money to gamble himself out of debt.

And since he has the worst luck I've ever seen, he's only going to make his situation worse.

But where is the money coming from?

You should check into his old gambling pals, see if anyone is staking him.

Has it occurred to you, what if Lou was a mobster himself?

What, an old mafioso in hiding?

I certainly hope that's not the case.

I'll keep an eye on him.

Finch...

If he's dangerous--

I refuse to believe that that old man is capable of hurting anybody.

He's cantankerous, but he's not a killer.

Open up Interrogation Two for Szymanski.

Let's go.

Szymanski--

Carter...

Somebody's trying to set me up. They planted evidence.

What?

Offshore accounts. A condo in Miami.

Then IAB finds this stuffed in a pillow in my apartment.

This is an Internal Affairs matter.

And this is a good cop. What is going on here?

We received a reliable tip that turned out to be right.

A tip? From who?

Somebody in narcotics got word from a CI.

Let's go, Szymanski.

I'm supposed to testify today, Carter.

They're dirtying me up to keep me off the stand.

Judge, Peter Yogorov runs the Russian mafia.

He's on trial for murder.

Now obviously he had that evidence planted.

It's clear-cut witness tampering.

Now I plead a continuance until Detective Szymanski can testify.

Hey.

I'll have him back in an hour.

All right.

Mr. Yogorov, I heard the ADA lost her key witness in your trial.

Lucky you.

Who the hell are you?

Let's take a ride.

Mr. Yogorov...

I believe we can help each other.

You're HR, yes?

I heard you guys were finished.

Well, you heard wrong.

I also heard no one's ever seen the boss.

Detective Szymanski is key to your case.

He did the arrest, processed the crime scene.

But now his testimony is under scrutiny, and everything he's touched is in question.

Peter, we can make sure that you and your brother never see the inside of a courtroom or jail cell again.

In exchange for what?

Pulling strings costs money.

We need cash, plain and simple.

You get us back home, we have a deal.

I must say, I'm not finding Lou difficult to tail at all.

Perhaps I should have considered a career in the clandestine arts.

Any luck on your mission?

[Groaning]

I just had a little chat with some of the more notable lowlifes here in Jersey, and they say that all Lou's old mob buddies are dead.

Murdered?

Natural causes. Lou's the last man standing.

What about Lou's finances?

Is he in debt to any criminal outfits or loan sharks?

Not as far as these guys have heard.

Guess that puts us right back where we started, huh?

Mr. Reese, I think there may be more to Lou than meets the eye.

In fact, I think there may be more to many of the gamblers we saw at the casino.

Why do you say that?

Several of them are also here at the pharmacy.

And it does seem strange that Lou would pick up prescriptions two days in a row.

I think I'll task an expert to help us do a little digging.

I'll do some digging too.

Oh, come on, man.

The pharmacy is owned by Lionwood Enterprises.

It's a shell company if I've ever heard of one.

A shell? For whom?

There are several board members, but they're all conveniently unreachable.

I looked into the tax paperwork, and there's one partner left off the public listing.

Does the name Darien Makris mean anything to you?

It does, indeed. Thank you, Mr. Tao.

You've been wonderfully helpful.

Hey.

You're gonna tail me around town, at least have the stones to introduce yourself, huh?

Come on. Come on.

I got it.

Sit.

What's your name?

Harold Quail.

So, Harold, you wanna tell me why you've been following me since I left my house this morning?

I'm with the IRS, Mr. Mitchell.

I'm looking into the Venus Casino.

I was hoping to ask you a few questions.

Am I in trouble?

Not with me.

But I have reason to believe that you might need some help.

Where did you get all the money?

You want answers out of me, you have to earn them.

Baccarat.

One answer per hand.

From what I've seen, Mr. Mitchell, you're not that lucky.

Well, this should go well for you. Bet.

Player.

7 on player, 9 on banker.

Too bad.

Looks like you owe me an answer.

Why do you think I need help?

You've lost $320,000 in the last six months.

I imagine you are in very serious debt.

No, no, no. House rules.

I'm dealing.

Banker.

Oh, tough luck.

How do you know I'm not independently wealthy?

Because I've seen your taxes and your credit reports.

Player.

This is not your day, Harold.

You lose again.

What?

Are you calling me a cheater, Harold?

No one likes a sore loser.

Mr. Mitchell, I believe that you may be in grave danger.

Let me help you.

When people need help, they think, "call the IRS."

This guy's got the check!

Mr. Mitchell, please, I...

Here you go, hon.

Thank you.

Hey, you like seafood?

[Jingling]

Go fish.

Oh, dear.

Got eyes on Lou, Finch.

But where are you?

I decided to return to the library.

Decided?

Lou gave you the slip, didn't he?

When he deposited my keys in a tank full of crustaceans, I got the distinct impression that he didn't appreciate being followed.

And, Mr. Reese, Lou is much luckier outside the walls of the casino.

I think he's throwing those games at the Venus, but I can't imagine why he would intentionally lose his own money.

Didn't you like the slots?

Oh, no, you know, it's the same old thing over and over again.

I thought I'd try the tables.

Mr. Reese, that lady with the bouffant, she's losing money at the same rate Lou is.

So?

She's been doing it longer.

She's down $405,000.

And the woman with the fondness for tanning oil, $261,000.

All of these people that we see with Lou, they've lost enormous sums of money.

That's more than a coincidence.

There must be a reason why they're doing that.

You think they're losing intentionally as well?

Why?

Perhaps we should ask the man who owns both the casino and the pharmacy.

Makris.

If the police are right and Makris is running a drug operation, he needs to launder dirty money.

He's using senior citizens as couriers.

They lose the money at the tables, and it gets laundered into the casino's cash pool every day.

The police wouldn't think twice about old people losing money at a casino.

You know what else the police would never suspect?

An old person picking up a prescription.

Finch... the pharmacy is a dead drop.

Makris has got a whole stable of money mules transporting cash for him.

These aren't exactly drug lords.

Safe bet, Makris is forcing them to do this.

But Lou's is the only number that came up.

Why is he in more danger than the others?

Maybe because he's skimming off the laundered money.

And if Makris has found out, I bet he'd kill anyone to protect his investment.

Detective Szymanski, did you talk to Anthony Marconi two nights ago?

No. Absolutely not.

No?

Then when was the last time you guys talked?

The last time I talked to that guy, his men shot me.

It's bad business.

Cal, the tip came in from Narcotics about Szymanski.

Do you know who made the call?

The star witness...

[Sighs]

Look, Joss--

It was you?

Who's your CI?

You know I can't tell you that.

Like hell you can't.

You think I enjoy taking another cop down?

The evidence speaks for itself.

Then I guess there's nothing else to say.

Hey, Carter.

Yeah.

I called one of the guys Stills reported at the 51st--

Can we talk later, Terney?

Sure, sure.

Okay, thanks.

I need you to tell me the truth about something.

There's no Santa. It was your parents.

I'm serious, Fusco.

It's about Beecher.

Have you ever heard anything about him?

Carter, you and I put a bunch of dirty cops away.

But trust me on this, HR's not gone.

Not by a long shot.

Anybody could be on the take.

As far as Beecher, I don't know.

But if you follow that money they found on Szymanski, you might not like what you find.

Ah, you burned through those chips fast today, Lou.

You're killing me, Jen, killing me.

Better luck tomorrow.

Hey, old man. Got that popcorn you wanted.

Out of my way.

Sorry, gramps.

You've been skimming from the boss.

[Grunting] [Car alarm blares]

We gotta get you away from here.

You can trust me. I'm with--

Harold?

Yeah, I figured.

So I guess you're not really with the IRS, huh?

Is it that obvious?

Now I think you owe Harold some answers.

Yeah.

You want to tell me who you really are?

That's not important.

But when I said we want to help you, that was the truth.

Why are you working for Makris?

My Marilyn got cancer.

Really advanced.

Only hope we had was a stem cell treatment.

We didn't have enough to cover it.

I had to improvise.

So you went to the casino.

I was right, wasn't I?

That's like calling a white truffle athlete's foot.

I'm the best damn card mechanic in Atlantic City.

So you got the money.

Yeah, and the treatment.

But sometimes, your luck just runs out.

A few days after Marilyn passed, Makris got his hands on an old list of card sharps.

He saw your name on the list, and he came around, asking for his money back, but of course you didn't have it.

So he takes your wedding ring and Marilyn's jewelry as collateral, and he puts you to work laundering money.

Said it would just be a couple of months.

I get a feeling this is a lifetime gig.

So is that why you started skimming?

I lose everything he tells me to, so what if I win a little back?

Clearly Makris sees it differently.

Lou, I'm not going to let him come after you ever again.

Yeah?

In the meantime, it would be best if you left town.

Here's a ticket, enough money to keep you comfortable.

There's a lovely place waiting for you in Chicago.

I can't leave Marilyn.

There's a plot for me right next to her.

It's got my name on it and everything.

Lou, I know exactly how difficult it is to have to leave someone behind.

You lost someone too?

I had to move on.

So must you.

40 years ago, the mob caught me sharping.

Beat me all to hell, broke all my fingers.

Left me for dead.

A waitress found me in a dumpster behind the diner.

Marilyn.

I was ready to give up.

But she gave me something to live for, you know?

Because of her, I gave up gambling.

I used these hands to fix watches instead.

She saved me, Harold.

And she'd want you to save yourself now.

Chicago will be cold.

Don't worry, Lou, my associate will make sure Makris thinks you've been eliminated.

So you think I'll be able to come back?

Maybe. Eventually.

At my age, there's not much eventually left.

Lou's safe for now, but Makris will never stop looking for him.

He knows too much.

And we can't abandon all the other elderly people under Makris's thumb.

Do we have the evidence to put him behind bars?

Unfortunately, no.

Money launderers keep two sets of books.

The cooked numbers you show the IRS and the real books to keep track of your extralegal gains.

At the moment, those books are beyond my reach.

Well, what would we need to get them within your reach?

A distraction.

Here you are, sir.

Thank you.

There was a stripper pole in that thing.

I feel weirdly grimy.

So this guy's dealing drugs?

That's putting it mildly.

Based on the financial information I've seen, he's laundering profits on the order of eight figures.

Wow. I'm jealous.

Angry. I'm angry.

He must be stopped.

Indeed. Ergo, you are now Jason Bao, playboy millionaire.

Welcome to the Venus, Mr. Bao.

Thank you, sir.

Right this way.

When a high roller starts betting big, Makris and his security pay attention.

If they're all looking at you, they won't be watching us.

[Chuckles]

That's it, right up here.

[Giggles]

How much is this?

$1 million, as you requested.

Can we get some tequila shots, please?

Right away.

Absolutely.

A million?

You trust Leon with that much of your money?

Absolutely not, but I'm afraid it's the cost of doing business.

Whoo! Oh, wow!

[Applause]

Good luck.

Luck? Merely a construct, Mr. Reese.

Ah, found the casino's servers. This shouldn't take long.

Let Leon have a little fun at least.

[Cheering]

[Whistles]

Finch, I thought you sent Lou out of town.

I did.

Well, not far enough. He's back.

And it looks like he's gambling every chip he's ever skimmed.

Player bet wins.

Does he have any idea what he's doing?

Makris thinks he's dead.

Makris is not gonna like it when he sees a dead guy winning his money.

Someone would like a word. Now.

Look, I'll pay you back for the ticket.

Lou, we're accessing Makris's personal files in search of the proof we need to put him away.

We can't do that and protect you at the same time.

I made a promise, Harold.

To Marilyn, right before she passed.

She grabbed my arm. She knew what I was thinking.

That-- that maybe I'd, you know, join her.

And she told me she didn't save my life, so I could throw it away.

And you haven't.

Laundering drug money? That's a living?

And now to just run away?

No. No, I'm taking back every dime I put in his pocket.

Please.

I don't want to die a loser.

Very well.

Then if we're gonna do this, we're gonna do it right.

I think you can take Makris for more than the 320,000.

[Typing on keyboard]

But to win big, you have to bet big.

So I'm staking you.

And you'd better be as good as you say you are.

[Dramatic music].

♪

[Sighs]

$2 million, Mr. Mitchell. Good luck.

Natural nine. Player bet wins.

The more he wins, Mr. Reese, the more attention he'll get.

You'll have to keep close watch on him.

[Cheers and applause]

Finch, hurry up and get those documents.

[Cheering]

Pardon me.

The goons you sent to kill Lou, they're in the trunk of a taxi headed to Vermont.

You think that's gonna stop me?

Mr. Reese, I've found the real books.

I'm emailing them to you now.

[Cell phone chimes]

Your security will play nice, or the IRS and the FBI will see this.

You're gonna let him play.

[Cheering]

Whoo!

I'm finished.

Where's Leon?

You remind me of a girl...

Candi.

[Giggles]

Have you ever considered pink hair?

[Giggles]

[Cheering]

$20,320,000.

Direct deposit.

Louis Mitchell.

Mr. Makris.

Congratulations, Mr. Mitchell.

I can't believe it. I thought I was gonna die.

[Chuckles]

Finch, we're out. Finch?

Is that his name?

We found your friend Finch.

And Mr. Bao.

You can't run a casino without being able to spot a fake.

I was gonna do this quietly, but now we're gonna have some fun.

Lou, I had such a nice surprise the other day.

A dealer told me that your luck had finally turned.

You walked away $500 up.

And that's when I realized you've been skimming.

Tens of thousands of dollars, right under my nose.

Listen--

All you had to do was lose, old man.

So before you die, I'm gonna make you realize that you are a loser.

And that's all you're ever gonna be.

You like games, right, Lou?

Huh?

Roulette's my favorite.

It's just you versus the wheel.

You may skate by for a spin or two.

But in the end, the house always wins.

I'll give you all the money back, just don't-- just stop this. Just stop it.

[Click]

[Laughs]

Oh, he's safe.

For now.

Come on, man. You gotta save me.

That's your thing!

[Click]

Not him either.

The odds are getting worse.

Sometimes your luck just runs out.

[Grunting]

[Clicking]

Hey, dumbass...

I cheated.

[Police radio chatter]

It's not like I'm still crying over Candi.

But it's always the same story, you know?

You find a girl you like.

She's tall, she's pretty, and it turns out someone paid her to handcuff you to a bed, so they could murder you.

Same old story.

I gotta learn to protect myself.

Maybe protect other people like you guys.

That sounds like a great plan.

I'm turning over a new leaf, dude.

What?

Saving people costs money!

Carter.

What's the rush?

[Sighs] I think Szymanski was set up.

Really?

Yeah.

Oh, Fusco, you were right about following the money.

You know those marked bills IAB found in Szymanski's place?

Well, the FBI placed them in a bodega run by Elias.

Six days later, NYPD did a raid there, but the marked bills never showed up in evidence.

They just disappeared.

So either Elias moved the money or someone on the force grabbed it, giving HR a perfect way to set up a good cop.

Wow, Carter, that's real police work.

That should be enough to get IAB off his back.

It was definitely enough to get him out on bail by the end of the day.

And it should let him testify against the Yogorovs.

[Cell phone rings]

Carter.

Yeah?

This means someone does have it out for Szymanski.

You watch your back.

You don't want them turning on you next.

[Cell phone rings]

[Phone beeps]

Thank you.

I understand your winnings are tied up as evidence.

Yeah, well, it doesn't matter.

As long as it keeps Makris locked up.

You know, your poker face needs work.

You had plans for that money.

I figured out why you skimmed all that cash, what you wanted to buy.

What's that?

A diner.

That's you and Marilyn, isn't it?

Yeah, this place was a home to us for 40 years, but the owner kept threatening to shut it down.

I wanted to keep it alive.

But now that Makris's offer is off the table, problem solved.

Until another offer comes along.

Yeah, well, nothing lasts forever.

I've been meaning to have someone look at this.

[Chuckles]

That's a $2-million watch.

It was.

Unfortunately, I stepped on it.

If someone was interested in repairing it...

You know, your wife, the one you lost.

She lost a good man.

She's smiling down on you right now.

Wait.

You mean she's not dead?

You know, for a genius, you're an idiot.

It's too late, Lou.

You're still breathing. It's not too late!

Go to her, Harold.

Today, while you still have time.

[Dog whimpers]

Speaks Dutch: zit (sit), uit (out)

[Dog whines]

[Dog barks]

You all right?

I heard what Lou said to you.

Oh.

You were listening?

Always.

You did what you had to do to keep her safe, Harold.

Lou doesn't know that.

But I do.

And if I were to return to my old life, it would eventually cost Grace hers.

Some of us don't get to grow old with the one we love.

You ask me, Lou's the luckiest guy I know.

I'll grow old with her, Mr. Reese, just from afar.

And beyond that, it's best not to think about it.

[Line rings]

[Cell phone rings]

Who is this?

Tell your boss the deal's off.

They didn't drop the case.

The ADA just added more charges.

Witness tampering.

I should have known not to trust an old man.

You know, Yogorov, you really ought to have more faith in my boss.

As you know, the mayor is very invested in this case against the Yogorovs.

So he's asked me, his chief of staff, to ensure that the case is moving forward, despite recent setbacks.

These charges against Detective Szymanski have HR written all over them.

We've been working on this case against the Russian mafia for nearly a decade.

We are not gonna let the Yogorovs go anywhere.

They can't intimidate us, and they can't stop us.

We're gonna put the Yogorov brothers away until their grandkids can't remember their names.

[Chuckles]

Exactly what I want to hear.

Detective Terney... are we clear on the story?

Shooter ran out the back?

Right shoulder.

You got it, boss.