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Previously on Reacher...

110th Special Investigators.

I need your help, Powell.

Run a license plate for me.

- McCabe's the one who cut off your ear?
- Yeah.

This was found in the maid's room.

She was giving out
details about our business.

McCabe's gonna blame me for this.

- I hired her.
- Let me talk to her.

If you want to talk to Frenchie,

you're gonna need a Ouija board.

Beck and I have been
summoned to Bizarre Bazaar.

You're gonna see Quinn.

He got past me in Portland and Virginia.

I get near him, it's
not happening again.

What, so you kill him and
try to shoot your way out?

He could recognize me and
I might not have a choice.

And he might have no
idea who the fuck you are.

He had amnesia, remember?

You kill Quinn, then
you're killing Teresa, too,

'cause for all we know, Quinn's the
only person who knows where she is.

At least keep the
phone on in your pocket.

You think we're gonna
walk in and out today?

I don't know.

You ready to meet the boss?

I've been waiting for this
moment for some time now.

Great. The fuck-up's here.

What kind of idiot hires an ATF
agent to fucking clean his house?

I mean, just saying it out loud,

nobody could be that stupid.

Except you.

Right, Beck?

That's Quinn.

If he recognizes Reacher, he's dead.

It's not a rhetorical question.

I want an answer.

Yes.

Yes?

Spell it out for me.

Yes.

No one could be that stupid except me.

I sincerely apologize

that I hired the ATF agent,

but the situation has
been contained, sir.

By my guys.

You were sitting there
with your thumb up your ass

while she gathered evidence
to put you in prison

for the rest of your life.

And I know you, Beck.

You're weak.

You go down, you take me with you.

What I should do is put
a bullet in your head,

drop you in the ocean
and be done with you.

But this is your lucky day.

Buyers know you, expect
to be dealing with you.

And I can't risk another disruption.

Hang on.

Who's this guy?

That's a dress.

It's got to be for Teresa.

She's still alive.

Avrielene.

Avrielene.

Only smart thing you've done
in weeks is hire this guy.

He was the one that
took out of Angel Doll

and got my laptop back from the feds.

What's your name again?

Reacher.

Retrograde amnesia wasn't bullshit.

Quinn doesn't remember him.

Julius McCabe.

You like that dress, you should
see what I'm putting in it.

I'd like to.

Yeah. Well, she's not here.

Goddamn it.

Wouldn't think a man as busy as you
would have time for a relationship.

Relationship?

Some secretary this moron hired.

She overheard something
she shouldn't have.

Bitch would've been fish
food, but she's a redhead.

The client has a thing for redheads.

So I figured throwing in an exotic treat

when we close the deal
should smooth things over.

Jesus. They're gonna make
Teresa a deal sweetener.

What the hell is this?

Okay.

They're here.

Reacher,

Paulie.

Stand behind me and look scary.

Rest of you assholes come, too.

But nobody pull a gun unless
you see me do it first.

Okay.

Let's go.

Okay, we made our point.

Mr. Taktarov.

Fine.

You should know that's only
interest in the bag, no principal.

That was not our agreement.

I am aware and I apologize.

The sale was delayed.

All I ask is a couple more days.

You know, my people,

we have a saying.

"Give a man a fingernail,

he'll take the forearm."

Close enough.

There won't be any more delays.

You'll get your money, don't worry.

Mr. McCabe,

I am not the one who needs to worry.

Sasha.

Get him out of my sight.

I can't afford any more
surprises like the maid.

Reach out to my guy down in Arlington.

Anyone who's been checking into
my operation, I need to know about.

Tell him to make sure to look
under all the rocks, you understand?

Yes, sir.

What was that about?

When McCabe moved his operation
back to the East Coast,

he needed seed capital.

He couldn't go to a bank.

So he went to the Russian mob.

And they were more than happy
to help him get things set up.

"Get things set up."

Is that a euphemism
for kidnapping Richard

and taking over your business?

A lot of people cut corners
in international shipping.

Pretty bad luck he singled you out.

Are you getting at something?

Just the fact that after
all your kid's been through,

maybe he deserves to know the truth.

You weren't just some white collar
guy greasing the wheels of commerce.

You were a gunrunner,

who was absorbed against his will

by a more vicious and brutal gunrunner.

It was a hostile takeover and you lost.

Richard got hurt in the process

and you've done nothing
but lie to him about it.

What would you have done?

Not been a gunrunner.

Yeah, well, good for you.

- Why did McCabe need to move east?
- No idea.

I just get his product
where it needs to go

and Richard and I stay alive.

And McCabe, how long does he stay alive

if he doesn't get the
Russians their money?

Not long.

These guys are no joke.

And if he made a move on Taktarov

and the outfit back in Saint
Petersburg finds out about it,

they would replace him in one day.

You cut off the head, and
two more grow in its place.

That's why he hasn't gone to ground

even though he knows the ATF
is looking into his operation.

His life depends on making this sale.

How did he get behind in his payments?

He's got everything tied up in
this massive sale that's going down.

But bad weather on the Red
Sea's delayed shipments.

Buyers nearly pulled out.

McCabe's barely holding
the deal together.

And it's making him nervous.

And when he gets nervous, bad things
happen to people like you and me.

Well, maybe just you.

He seems to like me.

We got to follow him.

We couldn't tail these
guys to find Beck's house

before they were on alert.

We are shit out of luck, Duff.

This was a bust.

Maybe not.

♪ Hey, won't you go ♪

♪ Won't you go downtown... ♪

We need to speak to the owner.

Already are.

We're here about one of your dresses.

A green one, probably
went out this morning.

Oh, yeah, the redhead.

You've seen her?

No, but I got her measurements.

Guy said his boss wanted to buy
something sexy for his girlfriend.

A surprise, so she couldn't
come in to be fitted.

He wanted it to go well with a redhead,

so I said, "It's got to be green."

- Why?
- You ever see The Swinger?

Ann-Margret dancing around
in that green sweater?

Ooh.

Made an impression on a kid.

We need the buyer's name.

No. I don't have that.

He paid in cash.

But...

he left a number to
call when I was done.

Would you like it?

Probably a burner.

It's all we've got, so
we work the clues we have.

Now you're starting to talk like him.

Jumping won't solve anything.

Yeah. I'd be just one more body

my dad put in the ocean.

Not making excuses for your father,

but if anyone's polluting
the Atlantic, it's McCabe.

Yeah, I guess.

What do you say we head into town

and get some epoxy to fix that toy gun?

Your dad's party's on Saturday.

Can't show up without a present.

You already bought it.

Might as well give it to him.

I'll meet up with you in a few minutes.

Gonna grab a coffee.

Hey.

Thanks for coming on such short notice.

Saw a chance to get away
for an hour, so I took it.

- Wanted to get this back to you before someone found it.
- Thanks.

So, Villy and I tracked down the
guy who made the dress you saw.

All he had was a number.

We tried it, but no answer.

Quinn and his guys probably
ditched their burners

after they learned Beck
let a fox into the henhouse.

Yeah. We figured the same,

but Villy has a contact
at the service provider.

Hoping he can get a look at
the call log for the number.

Maybe that gets us something.

Maybe.

What about those guys
outside Bizarre Bazaar?

Russian gangsters.

Quinn owes them money, so
they've got him by the balls.

That's why he's trying so
hard to keep the deal together.

Okay, you need to stay on Quinn's
good side long enough to find out

where and when that
deal is taking place.

Teresa will be there.

Okay.

Thank you.

For what?

You were face-to-face with the guy.

You could've killed him.

Wasn't the time.

Because you found out
Teresa's still alive?

I'm gonna kill Quinn eventually.

Doesn't mean I need
to risk your informant.

We can still make sure she stays safe.

I know it's important to you,
so I want to make sure we...

What the shit?

What?

That is not happening twice!

I didn't even know it
was gonna happen once.

No, I am not getting involved
with someone I work with.

Understood.

But, for the record, you kissed me.

Yeah, and for the first
and last time, buddy.

Hey, I had to move the car

a block down 'cause they're
re-painting the streets.

- What's he doing here?
- He gave me a ride.

Nice to see you, too, asshole.

I said I wanted to see you.
Get him out of here, now.

- What's the problem?
- What's going on?

Is that the cop you killed at my school?

That's the problem.

So the whole kidnapping was fake?

It was some kind of setup?

What are you, a cop? A fed?
Where-where are you taking me?

What the hell, Reacher?

Stop! Get-get-get your
hands off me! Get off me!

- Get off.
- Shut up.

First of all, I'm sorry
about the fake kidnapping,

but it was the best way to get
inside your father's organization.

Second of all, everything I
told you about me was true.

I just didn't tell you everything.

Those people back there were DEA agents.

They asked me to help
them find a missing woman

that worked for your father.

I saw evidence she was
being held in the cellar

under the carriage house.

- Do you know anything about her?
- No. And...

and after what I went through,

I don't believe my dad
would willingly participate

in anything like that.

Had to be McCabe.

McCabe's the other reason
I'm here. I'm gonna end him.

So where does that leave my dad?
You gonna send him to prison?

I don't know,

but he's already in prison. So are you.

McCabe's got both of
you under his thumb,

and I'm your best shot at
making it out of this alive.

So...

... can I trust you
not to blow my cover?

Unless you plan on killing me,

I guess you're just
gonna have to, aren't you?

Don't overplay your hand, kid.

I don't like you that much.

Got the tuxedos, Mr. Beck.

Oh, good. I was afraid they'd be out.

They nearly were. Half the
town is coming to your party.

You know, Agnes, I'd like to see the
list of all those who have RSVP'd.

Annette was making that.

Those men probably took it

when they got rid of
her things this morning.

I can't believe she just
left everything behind.

Can't find reliable help,
especially the French.

Well, maybe you could just go up
there to her room and take a look?

- Just in case, huh?
- Of course.

Agnes picked up tuxedos for you.

Try 'em on so we know if
they need to be altered.

I thought I'd just wear my suit.

This party's black tie.
It's not formal, son.

Hey. What's wrong?

Nothing.

Don't lie to me.

Was there a problem in town?

Uh, those guys were there again.

The ones who pushed you around?

Yeah, but... everything's okay.

Reacher took care of it.

Funny. I don't remember
you in the delivery room.

Excuse me?

You weren't in the delivery
room when Richard was born,

and yet here you are,

acting like his father again.

If there's bullies bothering my son...

... I can handle it.

I was just looking out for him.

I'm looking out for both of you.

It's what I'm paid to do.

Well...

... historically speaking,

people with that job description
are prone to catching bullets.

I wonder when yours is coming.

It's Samuel Abernathy from next door.

There's a problem with the water
pressure up and down the block.

Is it affecting you?

Mine's fine, Mr. Abernathy. I
was just getting ready for work.

I'm sorry, son.

Don't try anything smart.

You okay, Mr. Abernathy?

He's been better.

We got the soldier boy, Mr. McCabe.

And those guys in Chicago should
be moving in right about now.

♪ Rikki, don't lose that number ♪

♪ You don't want to
call nobody else... ♪

♪ You might use it if you feel better ♪

Fuck!

You can end this. Who asked
you to track the license plate?

What license plate?

Okay, I've been here before. I know
when a soldier isn't gonna talk.

Maybe the guys in Chicago
will have more luck.

Gut him from tongue to
taint, and let him bleed out.

We got silencers. We can
just put a bullet in him.

Where's the fun in that?

Please call 911.

Seriously?

You want me to do you a favor?

It was just a job.

It wasn't personal.

That doesn't make it any better.

Move.

Don't make me do it for you.

I need a doctor.

Tell you what...

... give me the name of
the person who hired you,

and maybe I'll call you an ambulance.

Costopoulos.

Costopoulos wanted us

to find out why you...

... were looking into some guys.

- Which guys?
- I don't know.

Angel or...

... something. Paulie, maybe.

Okay.

And now that you found me,

what were you and your dead
friend gonna do with me?

That's what I thought.

Hey. Know phone calls are a little
dangerous right now, but a couple

of professional bad guys
just took a run at me.

You okay?

- Never better.
- Is that 911?

Shut up.

They were sent on account of
those names you had me run down.

Jackass bleeding out on
the floor said he was sent

by somebody named Costopoulos.

That the name Quinn's using now?

No. He's calling himself McCabe.

Okay, I'll look into Costopoulos.

Shit.

If Quinn sent guys after
you, it means he's coming

for anyone checking up on him.

I got to go.

Reacher?

Okay, now...

I told you everything you need to know.

Hey, can you call me an ambulance?

Okay.

You're an ambulance.

No sense of humor.

Please. Please.

Fine. If you're just gonna
keep whining about it.

911. What's your emergency?

I've got a GSW to the abdomen
and a few other places,

on the 14th floor

- of the Higgins Building on State.
- Paramedics will be there in five.

Okay. Thanks.

Well, the good news is, the ambulance
will be here in five minutes.

Bad news, you'll be dead in one.

110th Special
Investigators. Wade speaking.

I need to speak with
Warrant Officer Powell, ASAP.

So do I. He was supposed
to be here to relieve me,

- but he's half an hour late.
- That normal for him?

Not really.

- Tried calling him, but...
- Does he live on base?

Who am I talking to?

This is Retired Major Jack Reacher.

Oh.

Okay, um...

Powell doesn't live on base, sir.
He rents just outside Rock Creek.

Send someone over there now.

In fact, send three people.

And make sure they're armed.

Who'd you piss off in the military?

- No one.
- You sure?

'Cause my guy in D.C. did a sweep
for anyone looking into my operation,

and it turns out,
some low-rank Army punk

flagged the plates on one of our cars

and a PI in Chicago
accessed files on my guys.

They were both in the same unit.

110th Special Investigators.

What?

Reacher was in the 110th.

Where is he?

He's up in his room.

Go put a bullet in his fucking head.

Fuck.

Shit!

I want him dead!

So do you think the kid's
gonna rat on Reacher?

Nah. He knows Reacher's his best
chance of surviving this thing.

- Reacher?
- Need you to come get me.

Wait, what do you mean, "get
you"? Where the hell are you?

Woods, down the road from Beck's.

My ride's shot to
shit, my cover's blown.

- Shit. The kid flipped?
- No.

Quinn must have somehow...

Shit.

Fuck.

Ah!

Shit.

Spread out.

How you folks feel about
closing early tonight?

Shit.

Thank you.

This is the best
coffee I've had in days.

Last cup I had came
from a cat's asshole.

Nothing beats a serrated knife.

Teeth grab the tomato's
flesh and slice right through.

I mean, look at that, huh? It's perfect.

Ask Richard to join us.

Quinn...

Please, leave Richard out of this.

It's not his fault, it's mine.

I hired Reacher, I hired the maid...

Be quiet.

What? This is...

I'm sorry, son.

Fuck did I tell you?

I've had a bad day, Rich.

In fact, I've had a bad fucking week,

so what I need right now is
some entertainment, you know?

Take my mind off of things.
You feel like helping me out?

Uh...

Yeah.

No.

- Sit down, or your wall gets a paint job.
- Um...

Come on, Rich.

You remember how to play.

It'll be more fun this time because now

we'll actually have a bullet in the gun.

Come on.

Let's play for real.

I'll get you started.

Quinn? Quinn, listen to me.

I'll fix things, okay?

Please, just stop.

You... You've always had all the power.

Damn right I do.

You're lucky I don't have Paulie

bend your kid over the counter
and tear him up prison-style.

Now keep your mouth shut,

or his odds of survival get
a lot worse than one in five.

Do it.

Uh.

You want to shoot me?

Your balls finally drop?

Okay, go ahead. Pull the trigger.

You got a 20% chance of killing me.

But even if you beat those odds,

Paulie still kills your old
man, then it'll be your turn.

You're in the same position your
daddy was when we kidnapped you...

out of options.

Now put that fucking gun

to your fucking head

and pull the trigger!

- Again.
- Come on, Quinn. Stop this!

I said do it again!

Quinn, I'm begging you!

Do it again!

Please!

Do it again! Do it again! Come on.

No!

Please stop!

I'll fucking give you anything.

I'll give you anything.

I want a matching set.

I know.

Look, this is the last one.

Before you know it,
I'm home every night,

and I'm cooking you dinner, okay?

Got to go.

Talk soon. Love you.

Found him naked, playing mahjong
with a couple of geriatrics.

Phone company contact get back to you

about the number from the dress shop?

Not yet, but my wife's called twice.

- She worries.
- She should.

This has gotten crazy. I
mean, Russian gangsters?

Maybe we should just call in some
backup and raid Quinn's warehouse,

confiscate all those guns and see
what charges we can make stick.

I ran out of Beck's house hours ago.

Guns would have been relocated by now.

Yeah, and he'll change
up his entire process,

anything he thinks Reacher
might have known about.

So now we don't know
where the weapons are,

when they're being sold, or to who,

or even where the sale is taking place.

And Teresa could still
be anywhere. Fuck!

Screw it! Let's call the ATF.

Tell 'em they lost an agent,

let 'em charge into Beck's
house and fucking burn it down.

And hopefully, someone
talks, and we find her alive.

Quinn's guys will never
cop to another body.

It's kidnapping charges,
murder of a government agent.

Guaranteed federal death penalty.

No one will talk, and Teresa will die

in whatever hole they're keeping her in.

Contact came through.

Looks like most of the calls
from that number originated

from someplace called... "Port Rome."

Port Rome. Okay.

Hundreds of buildings, not to
mention off-the-grid structures,

cabins in the woods,
cellars in the ground.

Too many places to look.

I know exactly where to look.

Port Rome will have boat owners.

That was Harley's number.

Teresa's on the Sweet Marie.

You think she's in there?

Anchored off the docks,
away from other boats?

Definitely suspicious.

You up for a swim?

You okay there?

It's too tight.

Teresa was here.

He had her tied up.

And drugged.

Don't look at me. I'm
scared of her, too.

You're not going anywhere, scumbag.

Get off of me!

Talk, asshole!

Fuck you, bitch.

Let's try this again.

We got to get off this boat
before the fire hits the fuel tank

and this whole thing blows up.

- Better talk fast.
- Okay.

Okay.

McCabe was paying me a grand a day

to keep her here so
no one could find her.

- Where is she now?
- When this guy took off,

McCabe just...

He went crazy, and he
changed everything up.

He doesn't trust anybody anymore.

So he moved her somewhere new
so he could watch her himself.

- Where did he take her?
- I don't know.

- You sure?
- I don't know!

You believe him?

If I was Quinn, I wouldn't
tell this asshole a thing.

Who the fuck is Quinn?!

What about the gun sale?

He changed everything up.

We don't know where or when.

I've told you everything.

Just let me off this
thing before it blows.

Please. Please.

What do you think?

I think this captain should
go down with his ship.

Yup.

No. No, wait.

No!

Don't leave me here!

Oh!

Fuck you, Reacher!

Fuck you!

Hurry up. Cops are on the way.

I am hurrying.

You're sneaking peeks.

Excuse me? I am not.

Hell of a lot of
side-glances for a person

that doesn't want to get involved
with someone they're working with.

Fuck you.

Don't get so flustered.

How are you not flustered?

How often do you do shit like this?

- Every so often.
- What does that even mean?

That's our last lead burning
up out there, you know?

And with you exposed, we have
no one inside Quinn's operation.

We're flying blind now,
with no way to get to Teresa.

That's not exactly true.
We have a man inside.

Just doesn't know it yet.

Pack your sunscreen, Duffy.

We're going to Los Angeles.

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