Original subtitles

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.

Did you miss me?

We're gonna have so much fun together.

He's digging around, getting way too close.

Should we silence him?

We can't let him jeopardize our operation.

Put it to a vote.

I'm in, Finch. Care to tell me where?

The apartment you're in belongs to Ms. Shaw.

I promised to respect her boundaries,

but for eight hours, our agreed-upon means of contact

have gone unanswered.

So you tracked her down.

Ms. Shaw may be violent and uncommunicative,

but she is never tardy.

Something is amiss and I need you to find out what.

So what are you up to?

My waist, approximately.

Don't be so delicate, Harold.

I need you to get in there and dig.

See, people, they put business cards in dirty clothes,

jot phone numbers on napkins.

A single relative's name is all we need.

Watch out for rats.

Rats?

As you may have guessed,

we have a new number. Timothy Sloan,

an estate investigator for the New York public administrator.

If somebody dies without an apparent next of kin

like the compulsive hoarder who used to live here,

they send in Sloan to find one.

So, when somebody dies,

Sloan figures out who gets their stuff.

Exactly.

I'm undercover as his new partner.

Finch, you know I don't like you heading into danger without me.

I'm not so thrilled about my current circumstances either,

but I need you where you are.

Speaking of which, have you found anything?

Nothing unexpected.

Raymond Chandler.

I grew up reading this stuff.

I always dreamed about becoming a detective.

Did you try the police academy?

Turns out they're not crazy

about hiring someone who can't shoot straight.

You check the fridge yet?

For a next of kin?

You'd be surprised what pops up behind moldy leftovers.

Nothing in here but old milk,

an enormous quantity of something that used to be pasta, and...

Wait.

What'd I tell you?

The cooler temperatures keep the film from fading.

Jackpot See for yourself.

Marcia the hoarder has a sister.

Which means we have an heir.

Good work, Harold. Our job here is done.

Mr. Reese, I have to leave now.

We found what we needed.

Unfortunately, so did I.

Taser confetti,

ejected whenever one is fired.

I suppose it's too much to hope she tased herself.

Knowing Shaw, it's possible.

But if I had to guess, I'd say she's in trouble.

Sorry about that.

Which part? The tasing, the drugging,

or whatever this is?

I had to make sure you'd hear me out.

She needs our help, and...

I figured you wouldn't come willingly.

She?

The Machine's given me a mission,

and step one is to team up with you.

I'll pass. Trust issues.

Besides, The Machine gives missions to Harold

and the government, relevant, irrelevant.

Why would it be talking to you?

Because now, there's a third category.

Things are evolving.

And my relationship with The Machine is a little...

...different.

As for trust issues,

I'm happy to take the first step.

There's a gun for you in the glove compartment.

Thanks, but a knife will do just fine.

This is the part where you give me one good reason

why I should believe anything you say.

October 2, 1988.

You took a road trip with your father

to watch the Houston Oilers play the Philadelphia Eagles.

- He bought you a sweatshirt... - Don't talk about my father.

It told you that?

The Machine trusts me,

even if you don't.

You spent years working for The Machine,

and she was never wrong.

If you don't help me, someone might destroy her.

And innocent people will die.

Forget how you feel about me.

How would you feel about that?

Okay.

I'll forget how I feel about you.

But when this is over,

you better hope I don't remember.

- Good evening, Mr. Reese. - Staying out of trouble, Finch?

For the moment, although I'm not sure

our Mr. Sloan could say the same.

I hacked into his office network to see what he's up to.

It appears our estate investigator has taken an unorthodox interest

in a case that isn't his.

Jason Greenfield, died two weeks ago

of an apparent heroin overdose, no next of kin.

How is Sloan's interest unorthodox?

Would going to a dead man's apartment alone

in the middle of the night qualify?

Any progress in finding Ms. Shaw?

Her building doesn't have cameras, but the one across the street does.

And they agreed to let you see the footage?

After some convincing and a sleeper hold.

Point is I found out who took Shaw,

and you're not gonna like it.

Find them, Mr. Reese. Now.

Why the hell are you following me?

Contrary to the saying, his bite is far worse.

Trust me. Bear, still.

Now, perhaps you'd like to explain why you're breaking

into Jason Greenfield's apartment

and taking his possessions, including that watch.

I'm not a thief.

Read the back.

"To Jason Greenfield from the Sloan family."

You knew him?

Jason was my foster brother.

I'm here 'cause I'm trying to solve his murder.

It's... me and Jason.

His parents were addicts.

They burnt the house down cooking meth when he was 14.

My mom and dad had started fostering, so...

...instant brother.

When he was 18, my parents gave him this.

You know, just... just to remind him

that no matter what, he always had us.

- I just wish he believed it. - What do you mean?

Jason always messed around with hacking.

And after moving out, he got more obsessed,

and spent more and more time with other hackers.

Finally just fell off the map.

Two weeks ago, I'm looking at another investigator's case files,

and I see his name. I couldn't believe it.

I mean, he swore that he would never start using.

Now, he dies of an OD?

- People do change. - Not Jason.

Not-not... Not about that.

The minute I walked in, I knew.

I mean, I've been to the homes of a lot of heroin addicts who died.

You know what you don't see?

High-end TV.

Stereo.

Gold watch?

It all goes to getting their fix.

You think someone killed him, then covered it up. Why?

I'm not sure. But let's take a look at what isn't here.

No computer, no tablet, no phone.

What kind of hacker doesn't have a computer?

It does seem strange.

You found nothing with any data in it whatsoever?

I found a flash drive in the microwave before you came in.

Looks like he fried it.

May I? I'd like to help if I can.

Jason may have tried to destroy the contents of the drive.

Yes, it's largely been wiped clean.

Wait. There's a fragment of stray data.

It's a piece of an e-mail.

- What does it say? - I can only recover a few words.

"You don't understand. If I try to leave, they'll kill me".

The question is, who are they?

And What is this?

I found it in Jason's jacket.

It's an address for...

...a storage unit.

That is weird.

Our guys checked. He didn't have a storage unit.

Yeah, sure.

That's one way to lower your cholesterol.

HR's protection payment. Dirty money for dirty cops.

Deliver it as usual. Then find out where it goes from there.

- I can't do that. - Do you really wanna test me?

'Cause I've got a shiny new 1911 to back me up on that.

What did Morozov say to you back there?

Beats me. I don't speak Russian.

That's funny, 'cause it looked like you understood every word.

Look.

Morozov's been running that deli since I was a kid.

HR knows that and respects it.

These payments are about loyalty.

Let me tell you something, Laskey.

One day soon, you're gonna find out

exactly what HR expects from you in return for that loyalty.

- You get a good look at her? - She came outta nowhere.

Got your message, Lionel. Looks like you found Root's car.

Yeah, and a crazy story to go with it.

Guy over there says this medical supply van

was just stolen by two women driving that car.

One waves them down, engine trouble.

When he goes to take a look,

the other one knocks him out with some kind of martial arts.

I hate to tell you, but Root and Shaw,

they're working as a team, a scary one.

A thank you would be nice.

Finch, I'm closer to Root and Shaw.

From what I'm seeing, it looks less like

an abduction and more like a partnership.

A partnership? To what end?

No idea, but with Root involved, anything's possible.

A troubling development, Mr. Reese,

and I'm afraid I have another one.

It seems that Mr. Sloan's foster brother Jason

may have been murdered by some mysterious group.

You think that same group might be the threat against Sloan?

The only way to know for sure would be to determine

who killed Jason and why.

Are you sure you don't need my help on this?

No, Mr. Reese, tracking Ms. Shaw is your top priority.

All right.

But, Finch, I'm here if you need me.

So I just got off the phone with the manager from the storage center.

Unit 117 was rented out to a guy named John Glover.

Now, he recognized Jason's description,

said that Jason was one of a bunch of people

who used to visit that unit at all hours.

The day after Jason died, those same people

came back in, cleaned the place out,

scrubbed it from top to bottom with bleach.

Did they have a photo ID on file for John Glover?

No. Glover paid a full year in advance with cash.

- For all we know... - Glover may not even exist.

Let's see if any other storage units have been rented using that name.

No other rentals under John Glover, but there, in Brooklyn,

another unit paid for a full year in cash

and rented the same day they cleared out John Glover's unit.

- Who rented that one? - Samuel Miles.

Wait.

John Glover? Samuel Miles? That's the connection.

Glover and Miles are both generals in the American Revolution.

Hardly seems like a coincidence. Let's go find that storage unit.

So this mission we're on, what is it?

You'll find out soon enough.

When you see this statue again, think impact.

The Machine told you that?

I suppose I could be making it up.

And I suppose I could be kicking your ass.

Insurance.

And where are we headed to now?

Down.

Spaghetti and an oxygen tank make a mean thermal lance.

- What am I cutting? - This.

You know, the last time I used a blow torch

was to get intel from an uncooperative source.

Now, you either tell me what we're here to do, or I walk.

Honestly?

Most of the time, I'm told what to do

a second before I have to do it.

The big picture, that's hers.

The only thing I know for sure is...

I ".need" .you.

Then you should get out of my way.

Wait.

Safety first.

Funny, the stuff you learn from work.

My truck's stuffed with crowbars,

key cutters, and bump hammers.

Never know what you're gonna need for the job.

Let's see what the people who killed my brother were doing here.

I don't get it. This is empty too.

Why pay for a storage unit a year in advance and put nothing in it?

Look at the dust.

A lot of activity along this wall here.

They are storing something here.

We just need to shine a light of a different spectrum,

the kind somebody like you might use to detect fluids.

You have anything like that in your truck?

I do.

Okay, so you don't know what we're doing.

Can you at least tell me what we're doing next?

Breaking and entering.

Locked door.

Phone.

- What's missing? - Behind you.

Highly trained operative in a bad suit.

This is a CIA pickup site.

- Agent number? - 947-0038 Alpha.

Confirmation? - Diego 241.

Pickup tomorrow, 0800.

Have the package ready.

Okay, so what's the package?

I am.

Here you go. UV lamp.

Kill the lights.

My God.

What is this?

A message center,

for people who want to communicate without being overheard.

Question is...

...what are they saying?

That's weird. Look at those sprinkler heads.

They're not attached to the same pipes

that service the other units.

Right there.

Looks like some kind of motor.

Camera. Dear. We've gotta get...

We're locked in!

It's gasoline!

They're gonna burn the place down with us in it.

Mr. Reese.

I believe I know who tried to burn us alive.

The last time I saw code like this, it was used by this man.

Peter Collier.

He's a member of a group trying to send a message

about government surveillance and privacy.

And he'll kill anyone who gets in his way.

So far, Collier's the most visible member

of the group, and your foster brother,

Jason Greenfield, was likely a member as well.

But Jason would never hurt anyone.

Well, that may not have been his role in the group.

The e-mail I recovered from Jason's flash drive

contained an identifier string

that I was able to match to a conversation

on the Darknet, an exchange between hackers,

one of whom was being lauded for exploits

that were nothing short of astonishing.

The hacker goes by the name of "Atlas7",

but their real identity seems clear.

- My brother. - Indeed.

The targets he chose are all government, military,

data-collecting corporations.

Perhaps that's what put him on Collier's radar.

So they teamed up, and at some point, Greenfield tried to get out.

And they killed him.

They may be coming after you now.

- Me? - These people value privacy.

Secrecy above all else, Mr. Sloan.

- By uncovering them... - You kicked the hornet's nest.

The best way to protect you from Collier

is to find out what he's up to and get out ahead of it.

The messages in the storage units

appear to have been encrypted with a running key cipher.

We find the key, we break the code.

- So what's the key? - A long string of text.

A letter, a book.

Jason would've had that key, too.

- So it must be in his apartment. - I'll go check it out.

And I'll go somewhere where I can do more in-depth research.

Hey. I'm coming with you.

You should stay here.

You're looking for the key to this code, right?

Well, there's something I do better than anybody else,

and that's finding things that people keep hidden.

Please.

Let me do it for Jason.

Come on.

CIA is here to pick us up.

- Any last words? - 24381.

Whatever.

PIN?

24381.

Good to meet you, Agent Dearborn. She been sanitized?

- Looks like you got a fun one. - You don't know the half of it.

Laskey, it's Simmons.

Go see your pal Morozov. I think he needs your help.

Who are you? Where's Morozov?

Exactly what I called you here to talk about.

When's the last time you counted the money you got from Morozov?

You think he's been skimming?

Boss, I've known Morozov my entire life.

- He values HR. - Laskey. You're a rookie,

so I'm gonna let you off with a lesson this time.

You need to learn the difference between knowing someone

and trusting them. See, this kid I can trust.

Because he values HR? No.

It's because he's scared of us.

- You got it? - Yeah.

- Thanks for the lesson, boss. - That ain't the lesson.

Old man Morozov made the mistake of pulling a gun

when I called him out as a thief.

There's a shovel in the backseat.

Six feet, kid.

Don't skimp.

Cells one through three secure, sir.

Hope the voice in your head knows what it's doing.

- That's gotta go. - Sundown, Ottawa.

Left, right, left, right, one, two, three.

You say the sweetest things.

Agent Dearborn? Nick Breckenridge. Chief interrogator.

Little late to be checking in a new asset.

We're prepping all prisoners for transport.

Transport? We just got here.

You know the drill, Dearborn.

We move these guys every 72 hours.

You get to interrogate indefinitely. Now, I need some info.

Encrypted radios always acting up.

- Name of operation? - Sundown.

- Asset's place of origin? - Ottawa.

Transport authentication number?

Should have gotten it from the operative guarding the pickup site.

Stress was high on this one.

Must have forgot.

You NOC types think you can just come in here

and ignore all kinds of protocol, don't you?

No authentication number, no access.

- Does anybody know how to... - Left, right.

Left, right, one, two, three.

We use them all the time at the farm.

Give that to the intake guard at the next site.

And next time, remember your damn authentication number.

Still searching Greenfield's apartment, Finch.

Keep looking, Mr. Reese.

None of the books you've found so far match the code.

- The kitchen's clean. - No luck here either.

All right, it's gotta be somewhere.

- Scavenger hunt. - What?

It... It's a game that Jason and I used to play

when we were bored.

We would steal something from each other.

Then we'd hide it in the house, except Jason would always lose

because he always chose the same place.

The heating vent.

Care to brush up on your history, Finch?

The American Revolution: A Concise History.

Why am I not surprised? Let me see.

I've located a copy online.

It seems to match the algorithm the code is based on.

- I'll start deciphering. - Great. Sloan and I...

Where's Sloan?

Grab him! Hurry, we're on the clock here.

- Get out of here! - Mr. Reese?

Mr. Reese?

Mr. Reese, are you all right?

- Let's go. - Shots fired.

He's with the guy in the suit.

- Mr. Reese. - Collier.

Mr. Reese, are you all right?

You're right, Finch. It's Collier. Sloan's gone.

And we have no way to track him.

I'm afraid it gets worse.

I've deciphered enough of the code to learn its purpose.

It's a plan to kill Jason Greenfield tonight.

Greenfield?

Isn't he already dead?

You can't keep moving me like this.

I'm an American! I have rights.

Do you even know my name?

Jason Greenfield, I presume?

How do you know my name?

I know a lot about you, Jason.

I know you hacked government sites for a fringe group of activists,

got squeamish when the group turned violent,

cut a deal with the feds in exchange for a new life,

and got screwed over by them and stuck in here.

Who the hell are you?

Answer me.

We're on a bit of a clock here,

so let's dispense with the temper tantrum.

To answer your question, I'm like you.

FBI Trojan horse of 2009, the null worm.

What, that was you?

That thing infected over seven million computers worldwide

in less than a week. If you designed the worm,

then you must be able to tell me how...

A self-executing attachment rewrites the OS

to infect nearby Bluetooth devices and spread wirelessly.

That was a long time ago.

I'm more interested in you, Jason.

Well, Jason doesn't exist anymore.

Those CIA liars faked my death.

It was supposed to be for my protection.

In return, I give them everything about the group.

Instead, they brought me to this mobile black site.

And now, they can question me forever.

Must have gotten bad for you to reach out to people you don't trust.

The group murdered someone.

A data broker.

And it's my fault.

I'm the one who told Vigilance about him in the first place.

- Vigilance? - That's their name.

"Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty."

I said we should scare the bastard,

but Collier convinced the group that it was time for more...

...aggressive action.

I'm not a killer.

Transport's here.

Prepare to move out.

So you never told me why you're here.

Simple, Jason.

I'm here for you.

- Move out. - Got it.

I'll be a ride-along.

I'm not letting this one out of my sight.

So Sloan's dead brother is really alive?

Yes, it seems Jason Greenfield turned himself in to the CIA.

And now, Collier wants to kill him for being a traitor.

Precisely.

According to the plan, the assassination of Mr. Greenfield

is scheduled to take place within the hour.

They're probably going to interrogate Sloan on the way to their mission.

If we can find where they're going to kill Greenfield,

then we have a chance to save them both.

Just give me a location, Finch.

Got it. An intersection downtown.

- I'm sending you the coordinates. - I'm on my way.

So you're his brother.

Jason said he had no family.

What made you choose to look into him now?

None of your business.

You know what? That is right.

We members of Vigilance value privacy,

even if the government doesn't.

However, when you started digging into Jason's life,

you also dug into ours, our methods, our plans,

which brings me to some rather bad news.

We took a vote as to whether we could possibly let you live,

and I'm afraid it didn't go your way.

My options at this point are limited,

but what I can offer you is a quick exchange of words

followed by an even quicker death.

I need to know exactly how much you know

about our group and who you've told.

Let's start with those two men I've seen you with.

Who are they? Feds? NSA?

I don't know, okay?

I don't know why they're helping me.

I don't know why they care.

All I know is Jason made a mistake falling in with you guys.

And when he realized it and he tried to get out,

you killed him for it.

Seems you've gotten ahead of things, Mr. Sloan.

Jason Greenfield is very much alive.

- You didn't kill him? - No.

But we are about to.

And you're gonna have a front row seat.

We're here.

Things are about to get a bit hectic.

We'll have to continue this conversation later.

Until then, Mr. Sloan.

Finch, I'm at the intersection. And there is Collier's van.

Be careful, Mr. Reese.

- What are you doing? - In ten seconds, brace yourself.

For what?

Impact.

- Shaw? - Now.

- Mr. Reese, what's happening? - Go, go! Move!

I just found Shaw. Unfortunately, so did Collier.

So good to hear your voice.

Time to go, Jason.

Jason?

- Shaw. - Reese.

- Gotta save somebody. - Know the feeling.

I saw somebody out there.

Tim Sloan. Do you know why he's here?

- Is he okay? - Did you see a man heading his way?

Tall, nice suit?

- Yeah. - He'll be fine.

Your new identity and the pass code to a bank account with $2.5 million.

Go to Cartagena, find a bar called Sol Azul in Boca Grande.

- Ask for Ruiz. - Who's he?

I have no idea.

Now go.

Why? Why are you helping me?

I'm just following orders.

But my guess is you're necessary.

There she is.

I guess a software omniscience isn't much help if you're out of bullets.

All right, bitch. Where's Greenfield?

Why are you smiling at us?

I'm not smiling at you.

- I knew you'd come back for me. - Mission accomplished?

- Absolutely. - Good.

That's far enough,

assuming you'd like Mr. Sloan to survive this encounter.

Peter Collier.

You seem to know my name.

One of 'em.

But I can't say the same about you.

I'm the guy you shot in the back, and I'm here to return the favor.

Well, before you do, perhaps you'd like to tell me how it is

you manage to keep showing up at Vigilance operations.

I'm persistent.

And energy and persistence conquer all things.

Benjamin Franklin.

You guys got a thing for the American Revolution, don't you?

That's true.

In fact, it may soon be time for another one.

- Forget it, Collier. It's over. - But only for one of us.

You can take me, or you can save Sloan.

Finch, Collier shot Sloan in the femoral artery.

We need help.

There's an ambulance on the way, Mr. Reese.

Hang in there. You're gonna be all right.

You learn your lesson, Laskey?

Six feet. I didn't skimp.

How was your night, Laskey?

Sleep good?

My name is Mikhail Lesnichy.

There are 12 of us Russians on the force.

So HR is seeding the NYPD with cops they know will be loyal

and cementing their deal with the Russian mob in the process.

What about that money you got from Morozov?

HR's stockpiling it.

I don't know what for, but whatever it is, they have millions.

It gets worse than last night, you know.

What's worse than burying a friend?

Good to see you out of the hospital, Mr. Sloan.

You're looking well.

I can't thank you guys enough, not just for saving me

but for helping me find my brother, even if it was for a second.

You helped us as much as we helped you.

Indeed, you've proven yourself to be quite a fine detective,

one worthy of Raymond Chandler.

They're packing up Jason's stuff for auction today,

so I figure I'd stop in and take one last look around.

Maybe find a remembrance?

- Already have one. - It suits you.

Good luck, Mr. Sloan.

Excuse me.

- Hello? - Tim? Tim Sloan?

Jason? Where are you?

You wouldn't believe me if I told you.

Listen, I've managed to create a secure stream,

so we can talk, but it'll only last 30 seconds or so, and...

I just wanted to tell you thanks.

Those guys I got involved with,

I thought I'd found a new family, but I should've known.

- You're my family. - Jason...

I want you to know that I have something of yours,

and I'm gonna hold on to it until next time.

That sounds good, Tim.

You'll always be my brother.

We're gonna have to keep an eye on him.

Collier may try again.

If Vigilance wants a revolution, these may only be the opening shots.

Equally troubling, The Machine appears to have sent two teams

into the same battle with different goals.

Why keep us in the dark about Root and Shaw?

Speaking of which, have you figured out what to do with Root yet?

There are more comfortable chairs, if you'd rather...

Not to mention a padded bench,

which doubles as quite a comfortable bed,

albeit a small one.

And all within the proximity radius

programmed into my lovely new ankle accessory.

I found out the hard way what happens if I cross it.

Just making sure you have everything you need.

Well, there's no shortage of reading material.

That's for sure, Harold.

Keeps the mind occupied.

You know damn well who's supposed to be occupying my mind.

I'm afraid that's out of the question.

I suppose that even if I managed to get access to a wireless device,

the Faraday cage you've constructed in here

would prevent me from communicating with her.

Your powers of deduction are, as ever, impeccable.

And your choice of pronoun, illuminating.

Well, if there's nothing else...

You're going against The Machine's wishes by keeping me here, Harold.

You're only gonna make her angry.

Can you imagine what a being that powerful will do when she's angry?

How can you be so certain, Ms. Groves,

that The Machine does not wish you to be precisely where you are?