All language subtitles for Reacher.S02E03.AMZN-FLUX+TGx+NHTFS.English-WWW.MY-SUBS.CO

WWW.MY-SUBS.CO

Previously on Reacher...

We're being followed.

NYPD?

Gaitano Russo.

He's the investigating
officer in Franz's homicide.

Franz was killed over this hard drive.

It's just a list of
names, all starting with

- the initials A.M.
- All aliases.

We've got page after
page of random numbers.

I'm thinking there's someone hell-bent

on taking out the special investigators.

They're headed towards Atlantic City,

probably gonna try to
find their missing buddies.

Good, all in the same place at once.

Take them out.

Should have left one of them alive.

Not necessarily. Parking lot pass.

"New Age Technologies."

Do you know if Sanchez and
Orozco had any recent contact

- with Calvin Franz?
- Actually, yeah, they were working a case together.

- Was Swan involved?
- I heard them mention his name.

And the weapons, all
650 will be in the truck.

You can track the shipment with
the GPS locater I paired to this.

Two more bodies have been discovered

in Upstate New York near
where they found your other friend.

Pretty easy to ID him with that.

We're gonna need more guns.

Enough.

This ends right now,
Calvin, if you want it to.

Just tell me what you figured out

and who else knows it.

We've already got a bead on
your buddies in Atlantic City,

so you are not saving
them by not talking.

Okay...

if you've got nothing to say.

Get him ready.

Last chance.

You talk... or you fly, asshole.

What's so funny?

I'm just thinking...

about what the big
guy's gonna do to you.

Big guy?

Who the hell was he talking about?

- Synced and corrected by naFraC -
- www.MY-SUBS.com -

I'll take the 17, two
19s, that Beretta...

and three burners.

Well, just so you know...

once you apply for your permit,

there's a seven-day waiting period

before you can purchase a firearm.

You can't only buy
one in a 30-day window.

But I can hold them for you.

That's a lot of hoops.

Well...

more hoops than the NBA.

Rules say you can lend
these firearms to a friend,

which as you know, is
one of the conditions

for a legal temporary
transfer under New Jersey law.

Nice to meet you, friend.

I'm Joe Gordon.

Frank Majeske. Pleasure's mine.

And you must know that a
legal temporary transfer

between family and friends

can only be used for sporting purposes,

so I assume you're going
to be target shooting...

or hunting?

A combination of both.

The law also necessitates
the firearms be back

- within an eight-hour period.
- Technically,

every moment in time exists
within an eight-hour period.

I'm sure you're aware
that transferred firearms

can only be used in the
presence and supervision

of their legal owner
and that would be me.

How about you be with
me in spirit, Frank?

♪ You say you got money ♪

♪ Well, you better be sure... ♪

Well, if it's good enough for
God, it's good enough for me.

♪ I was a paperboy ♪

♪ Back when there was paperboys ♪

♪ Bookstores and... ♪

I don't know. I like my Glock 17.

That is a Glock 17.

I said, "My Glock 17,"
okay? I like the feel.

- What was that?
- Oh, nothing.

I'm just listening to a .200 hitter

complain about his new bat.

Hey, I'm a great shot.

You're average. At best.

Bullshit. Dixon, back me up here.

- That time in Biloxi...
- Was the luckiest shot I've ever seen.

- Thank you.
- Man, you couldn't hit a donkey's ass with a banjo.

Screw you guys.

All I'm saying is I want to use
my own personal sidearm, okay?

One, a bad carpenter
complains about his tools.

And two, you really want to get busted

shooting people with a gun
registered in your name?

Fine, but I don't got to like it.

Well, I like mine.

Beretta 92, like Swan used to carry.

♪ You got a marketing plan... ♪

You know, these guys we're going after

have to be pretty good to
have taken down four of us.

We don't know Swan's dead. Not for sure.

Swan's as dead as his dog.

What? We all know it.

And if it pisses you off
as much as it does me...

that's good.

I think I found what we need.

The Jade East Motel. Belt Parkway.

It's perfect.

Hump joint near the airport,
affairs, prostitution...

No one's looking to get into
anyone else's business there.

Good place to hide out.

I don't know, Reacher.

You okay with staying
somewhere so fancy?

Any reason I shouldn't pull over?

Let's get it over with.

You four... wait here.

That was weird.

I wasn't going fast
enough to be pulled over.

I know.

You think anyone found
out about the friends

you and Dixon made in Atlantic City?

Not unless they decided
to re-pour concrete.

Oh, maybe the pawnshop owner
set the cops on our tail.

He gets our money and his guns back.

He's an accomplice. He
burns us, he burns himself.

Hold my gun.

Wake me up if something happens.

Whoa, you're taking a nap right now?

I'm gonna be arrested, but I got
a feeling it's gonna take a while.

So...

sleep when you can.

Hey, Slugger?

Get out.

I'll pay you back the bail money.

Don't forget the room.
And the plane ticket.

What are you waiting for?

Get out.

Hands on the roof, Paul Bunyan.

Neagley, Dixon...

handle that parking pass matter.

O'Donnell?

How can I be of service?

You went to law school, right?

Yeah. Rutgers.

So... kind of.

You can kiss my ass.

- This guy's my lawyer.
- Good for you.

Shit.

Detective, my client's
requested counsel.

If you separate us during transport,

you'll be creating a contestable issue

that I assure you I will win on appeal

in the slim chance a conviction
actually comes to pass.

None of that is remotely accurate.

We can agree to disagree.

Rutgers.

Get in the car, Dershowitz.

How'd you find us?

I drove around looking for the
car with a giant asshole in it.

- Guess they spotted you.
- Well, if you must know,

I knew you guys would get scarce
once I was unjustly assaulted,

so I pulled all the security footage

from the car rental
companies at the airport,

scrubbed them until I saw you talking

to that number in the business suit.

Pulled the plate off her rental car,

put a BOLO out so I know if and when

you guys got back to New York.

Cruiser car spotted you and
here we are, you fucking genius.

Why do you have toys back here?

- Hey, put that away.
- Oh, is this your icebreakers

for the kiddies on the playground?

That ain't even funny.

What's with the bag, Russo?

It's a bag of none of
your fucking business.

So feel free to root around in there,

grab a handful of none
of your fucking business,

and shove it up your ass.

Nice place.

Yeah.

I like a lobby you can
hold an IndyCar event in.

Frances Neagley, Karla Dixon?

I'm Marlo Burns. New Age
Director of Operations.

Not my thing, but nice to meet you.

Oh, okay.

Well, we don't often get visits
from private investigators.

- Is everything all right?
- We're looking into

three confirmed murders
and a missing person,

so I'm gonna go ahead and say no.

This parking pass was found

in a person of interest's car.

We were hoping you could provide

more information about
who it was issued to.

New Age has over a thousand employees

with dozens of divisions.

We have countless visitors
coming here every day

regarding the scores of
projects we're developing.

Look...

we understand, but any
information you could give us

would be greatly appreciated.

This isn't just any
case we're working on.

The, uh...

The victims happened to be our friends.

I'm so sorry.

I'll see what I can find.

Thank you.

- You want to have a seat?
- You want to tell us what this is about?

- Besides your bruised face?
- I think it's more about his bruised ego.

For the record, that
was a sucker punch, okay?

Technically, the airbag
sucker punched you.

- I beat you up.
- Fair fight, I'll turn your lights out.

And when this is all
over, we're gonna go again

and I'm gonna beat
your ass to the ground.

Well, why don't you
just take off the cuffs,

rescind the arrest and you
guys can settle it right here?

What kind of lawyer are you?

The best the 91st-ranked law school

in the country can produce.

Look, Curly,

you want to tell why I'm in here

instead of being processed out there?

- I got bad news.
- Let me guess.

Our friends Sanchez and Orozco are dead.

Kidnapped and bodies found Upstate.

I heard directly from the Catskill P.D.

How the hell you guys know about that?

Guess we're just two steps
ahead of you, Sipowicz.

No, you're not two steps ahead of me

if you're working this case.

You are actively interfering
with my investigation.

And if you want me to arrest
you and put you in the tombs,

I can make that happen,

but that's not gonna
solve these murders.

And me and you both wanting that,

is the one thing we have in common.

Fair enough.

Why don't you start
with a show of good faith

and explain why you were tailing us?

Okay.

When I looked into the 110th,

Calvin Franz's phone logs
had multiple calls to you,

Tony Swan, Jorge Sanchez,

Manuel Orozco,

but he didn't call you, though.

- Why's that?
- I don't have a phone.

You guys were in the
same unit for years.

Now you're all being killed off.

Something is going on and I
think you guys know things.

Look, I just want to get
to the bottom of this shit.

If we share what we've got...

you better have something
for us in return.

I found something.

Our records show that parking pass 6322

was issued to a man
named Trevor Saropian.

He's not an employee. He
was here for an interview.

Interview for what?

Apparently, he runs an
office maintenance company.

Washing windows, waxing
floors, that kind of thing.

We didn't hire him.

It was too small an
operation for our needs.

But his resume was still on file

with his address.

Thank you, sincerely.

Did a murderer really come
here for a job interview?

That's what we're gonna find out.

Six hundred and fifty at $100K.

What the hell is being sold
that's worth $65 million?

A sale's an assumption,

and in an investigation,
assumptions kill.

It could be a transfer of $65 million,

a $65 million cover-up,

a $65 million bribe.

Well, whatever your
friends were involved in,

it was big enough to get them killed.

Not sure I like your use of
the word "involved" there.

Involved means involved.

Read into it any way you want.

I'm reading an insinuation
that my friends are criminals,

and if my read's correct,

you and I are gonna
have another problem.

I'm a detective.

I got to be open to
all the possibilities,

even the ones you might not like.

Well, there's one possibility
I've been very open to

that it's you who's in on this.

I'm no dirty cop.

You followed us without
ever identifying yourself,

and you brought us in here
to find out what we know,

but never formally arrested me.

Seems like you want to
keep things off the books.

Say I'm dirty again, see what happens.

Tough talk when I'm cuffed.

I don't take envelopes. You got that?

Gentlemen, why don't we all just

take a big, you know... big breath,

and we just go to our
respective corners.

And, uh, Detective.

A great way to demonstrate

your integrity would be
to share some intel with us

that we don't already know.

We got a suspect.

How'd you find him?

Printer in Franz's office.

We searched that office ourselves.

Printer was smashed on the ground.

Nothing in the output tray.

But the memory card was intact.

I had the tech geeks look it over.

They found an unfinished
job in the queue.

It didn't print due to low ink.

Maybe you're not the only
good investigator in the room.

Azhari Mahmoud?

He's known to INTERPOL
as a weapons broker

for terrorist organizations.

"Mahmoud could be who we're looking for.

He's a ghost. No
pictures of him anywhere.

Sanchez."

Sanchez and Orozco dug
this guy up for Franz.

A.M. It's same initials.

Same initials as what?

The list of aliases we found

on a flash drive that belonged to Franz.

This guy's name most
likely isn't Azhari Mahmoud.

You were never going to mention that?

You're gonna want DHS to
flag all of his aliases.

You think the guys got wrapped up
in something involving terrorism?

Maybe.

Well...

whatever it is, this case just got

a whole lot bigger than
what we thought it was.

Been known to happen.

We're gonna need to pull
Neagley and the others

- off that arson case.
- What?

Come on, this is a bar brawl gone wrong.

This guy probably had a
few too many soda pops,

got handsy with some guy's
girl, push, shove, come outside,

bang, bang.

It could be a stamp from a club,

like you get outside a door.

Except, uh, on his palm.

Yeah, they don't stamp
at this place anyways.

- You asked?
- No. Been here a few times.

- What'd you find out?
- We showed pictures of Private Simms

to all the employees.

No one recognized him,

which might not mean much
in a dark, crowded bar,

but he definitely wasn't involved
in some fight that led to this.

- Full sweep?
- Hit every inch of the place.

And it wasn't easy

'cause the ladies were
barely letting me get by.

Somehow they can always
tell I'm a great dancer.

Yeah, but once Baryshnikov
here got past his fans,

it was pretty obvious

there wasn't an
altercation in here tonight.

That's 'cause he was never in that bar.

His pant cuffs are wet.

Couple potholes back there are
filled with last night's rain.

He was running for his life,

cut through this lot,
splashed a pothole,

got slowed down, got popped in the back.

- Died right here.
- Yeah, but what about the stamp?

It was transferred off something
he was holding onto while he ran.

Look how the ink smudged.

It came off a glassine wrapper.

- He stole someone's drugs?
- A kite.

'Cause it gets you high.

- Lieutenant Colonel.
- Oh, cut the shit, Reacher.

I'm in Wranglers, for Christ sake.

Copy that.

So what brings you out here, Fields?

I heard the call while I was out
buying ice cream and pretzels.

How far along now?

Eight and half months in.
She's craving salty and sweet.

I was around the corner at the Wawa,

figured I'd swing by
before I headed home

to the missus and little Hortense.

You name your kid after you?

Technically, after my father, but yes...

it's the family curse.

So, what do we have here?

The ever-winning combination
of booze, men and guns?

Replace booze with drugs.

From the looks of it,
Private Simms stole some,

- ran, and got caught.
- You think?

Kid from our base stealing drugs?

I don't want to assume,

assumptions kill,

but it's what my
instincts are telling me.

Well, this is what the
110th was created for, right?

You and your team
open a file and dig in.

Keep me updated if there's
anything I can do to help.

For now...

my butter pecan's melting.

Roger that.

Swan, you were half right.
It's not just a kite.

It's a fighter kite.

Saw these all the time in Afghanistan.

Kite fighting's popular there...

so is heroin production.

- Dixon?
- Boss?

The aviation fuel case.
Let's pull that file.

I might know what was
weighing down all those planes.

You're quiet.

Whatcha thinking?

I'm thinking I have the name of someone

who killed some of
the best people I know.

I'm thinking you're gonna
figure out those numbers,

we're gonna find those
fuckers and they're gonna learn

exactly why you do not mess
with the special investigators.

Reacher sure knew what he was doing

when he put us together, didn't he?

Guy's got good instincts.

- Guy's got good everything.
- Ew.

I'm just saying.

Never thought I'd have
the chance to find out.

Please. Everyone saw that
coming like Halley's comet.

I didn't.

I honestly thought he wasn't interested.

He keeps everybody at
a distance except you.

That's just 'cause I
don't press the issue.

I like how we are.

Distance is... comfortable.

And yet you two are the
closest in the 110th.

So, how'd that happen?

Honestly? No idea.

But I do know even when days, months,

even years go by without us speaking,

Reacher'll be there when I need him.

- No questions asked.
- Oh, my God.

That's it.

- It's days and months.
- What is?

Those pages?

There's seven sheets, right?
On each sheet

there's 26 or 27 numerical tabulations.

- If you say so.
- I mean, if you run them all together,

you could fit everything on
one page instead of seven,

but clearly, they wanted seven.

So knowing that each page is
a specific calculation of data,

it makes it even more relevant
that all of the pages have 26,

except for one.

One has 27. Why?

I've understood nothing
since you said, "Oh, my God."

It's days and months, right?

Each page is a month. Seven of them.

But not every month has
the same amount of days.

But if you work six days a week,

that total's 26 or 27 days,

depending on which day
that particular month starts

- or ends on.
- Right.

But based on those working days,
it's not just any seven months.

It's... actually, the last seven months.

So the last seven months,

something was supposed to
happen nine or ten or 12

or 13 times a day,
Monday through Saturday,

but it didn't always come out right.

It's not just that it
didn't always come out right.

I mean, those numbers went
from pretty good in month one

to abysmal in month seven.

So the real question is,

what kind of somethings
were they counting?

I mean, you should've seen it.

Through half inch chain-link fence,

across the yard,
underneath the porch rail,

dead center into the bolt lock.

Biloxi police chief said it
was the most incredible shot

- he'd ever seen.
- I agree.

It's like Mr. Magoo finally
finding the staircase.

Eat shit.

Good news.

Put the aliases you
gave me into the system,

we got a recent hit on this A.M. guy.

Recent like right now in
the United States recent?

Oh, yeah.

And one of the names on the
list, Alexander Markopoulos,

just bought a ticket for
a flight from Denver to JFK

that boards in an hour.

Soon as A.M. checks in, we got him.

Oh. I'm so sorry about that.

All right.

Yeah.

I've been delayed.

Delayed? What do you mean "delayed"?

Do I really have to define
the word delayed for you?

I'll still be there, just
a bit later than expected.

Authorities were waiting
for me at the airport.

Are you sure?

People don't normally
travel with empty suitcases.

My IDs are burned.

How much do you think they know?

I didn't stop to ask.

But if there was a
clear link between us,

you'd be speaking to your
lawyer right now instead of me.

Well, you're supposedly
the expert on all this.

We had a deal.

And I'm keeping my end of it.

I will just be a touch late.

"Late" can blow this whole thing up.

Every minute we don't close this deal

is a minute more that we're exposed

and a minute closer to us
all being in federal prison.

Mr. Langston, a question.

Have you done a deal like this before?

For the type of product being purchased

at the price offered?

No.

I have. Multiple times.

Like you Americans say,

this is not my first rodeo.

All right, we'll keep things
moving forward on our end.

But how are you gonna get
into New York without an ID?

I'll handle it.

♪ In you ♪

Months and days.

♪ I see ♪

♪ For me... ♪

Shit, she's right.

Of course she's right. It's numbers.

Here we are.

Saropian's home sweet home.

Can you get me some info
on that house next door?

- On it.
- Isn't this all just moot

if A.M.'s being picked up
at the airport as we speak?

And if he keeps his mouth shut,
we never learn who he's working with

and everyone else
involved gets away with it.

Barbara Gottelsman.

She's 79, so... be nice.

Why wouldn't I be nice?

Hello?

Hello, is this Miss Gottelsman
of 950 Emerson Drive?

Yes.

I found Trevor Saropian's
wallet on the sidewalk.

ID puts him at 948 Emerson,

but I wanted to make
sure he still lives there

before I mailed it back

since no one's answering
the number I found for him.

His ID lists him as five-nine,
picture has a scar on his face.

Yes, that's Trevor.

Okay.

- Sorry to bother you.
- You know,

his trash cans have been
on the curb for days now.

He's supposed to bring them
in the day after collection

or it's a $20 fine per can.

Yeah, he's not bringing
those cans back in.

So it's actually his house.

Should we go see what we can find?

Right after we make a
stop at the hardware store.

Donkey's ass, meet banjo.

Fucking bulletproof vests.

All clear upstairs?

Other than this asshole's dead buddy,

all clear upstairs.

Oh, shit!

Reacher!

West!

Who sent you?

Who sent you?!

Brian Collins.

Who do you work for?

New Age? Do you work at New Age?

Are you having a heart attack?

You got to be kidding me.

Hey! Collins!

Who's running this operation?

Collins!

Really?

Asshole.

Evening, Mrs. Gottelsman.

Oh.

You're alone. Have to
assume no survivors?

No.

Guy in the car was from New Age.

Found an ID.

Well, I'm glad you found something

'cause these guys ain't got jack shit.

Outside muscle.

Guy I just left dead was here

to make sure they got the job done.

- What now?
- We get the hell out of here.

Pretty sure Mrs. Gottelsman
has called the cops by now.

Bet you wish you had a
change of clothes now, huh?

One pair of slacks, Jack?

I wouldn't get too comfortable.

I have a feeling the
night's not done with us yet.

- You were saying?
- A lot of angry

and a lot of bald is
about to blow into town.

- Evening, Russo.
- Close the door.

A pipe bomb?

In suburban fucking Queens?

- They frown upon that sort of thing?
- You think this is funny?

What were you thinking?

We were thinking we were being set up,

and as it turns out, we were right.

Set up how?

There were hit men who tried
to kill us in Atlantic City.

They failed.

But they had a parking pass
for a company called New Age.

So, you were you never
going to mention that?

While O'Donnell and I were
being unlawfully detained

by you, Neagley and
Dixon visited New Age,

where the director of operations

gave them the name and
address of the person

the pass was issued to.

An assassin left his address?

We had the same question.

But it led to two possibilities.

The hit man could've gone to
New Age to canvass a target

in which case the address
he gave would be fake.

Or he could've gone to New Age
'cause he was working for them...

a hit man for hire getting an
assignment to track us down...

in which case, getting a
real address from them means

someone wanted us to check it out.

So, you four guys just
decided to walk into a place

where you knew people
were waiting to kill you?

Well, in our defense,
we did blow it up first.

Un-fucking-believable.

We got confirmation this
all goes through New Age.

Found that on one of them.

So, you get this from the guy you shot,

blew up, or the asshole
who died by barbecue?

He was stopped by the barbecue.

He died from trans fats.

- Where's his car?
- We decided to take it with us last minute.

Plates swapped, parked out back,

head-in to hide as
much damage as possible.

You never know when you
could use another vehicle.

Look, if we're gonna help each other,

I got to know that you
guys are not gonna go rogue.

Especially now that we got a setback.

What setback?

A.M. never showed up at the airport.

So he knows he's being watched.

That list of aliases we gave
you is useless to us now.

Useless to him, too.

But there's no way his
plan, whatever it is,

isn't still in motion.

After what we did tonight,

it's gonna be tough
for us to work the case

- if the cops get onto us.
- They're not.

Once I heard the description
of the perp, I raced down there

and I got an official
statement from Mrs. Gottelsman.

Let's just say I didn't get, uh...

all your dimensions
correct in my report.

I don't like doing that.

Do not put me in that
position ever again.

In the meantime, I can use this
to support a warrant on New Age.

That's the logical next step.

Well, glad we're finally
in agreement on something.

In the meantime, I need you guys to stay

the fuck put until you hear from me.

Then let me give you a number
so you don't have to come around

where you're not wanted
every time you need to talk.

Burner?

I thought you didn't have a phone.

It's not mine.

Belonged to someone I killed.

Okay.

I'm serious...

no more fucking cowboy shit.

So... what are we gonna do now, boss?

Saddle up,

'cause we're about to do
a whole lot of cowboy shit.

Where'd you park?

Two klicks down the road on the right.

- Assignments.
- Server room.

- H.R.
- Director of operations' office.

And I'll take everything else.

Soon as the alarm goes
off, hit your timers.

Closest police station
is four miles away.

Call has to be routed
through a central service,

and they can't do more than 60
on some of these surface streets.

Too many turns to get back here.

To be safe, no more than two minutes

to get what you can
and meet at Dixon's car.

And if I'm late...

don't wait for me.

Hooah, Major.

- You see Reacher?
- Nope.

But he said not to wait for him.

- Shit.
- We got to go.

No, I'm not leaving him here.

I don't want to go either, but I don't
defy an order from Jack Reacher.

He said go, we go.

Fuck.

Hey!

Stop!

I can't believe you were gonna leave me.

Asshole.

- Dixon.
- Yeah.

Torch.

Find something?

No fucking way.

Holy shit, it's Swan.

He was working at New Age

with the people who have
been trying to kill us.

- Synced and corrected by naFraC -
- www.MY-SUBS.com -