Original subtitles

[laughter]

- Hey, let's just go home, Caitlin.

There's no way we're gonna make it onto the tour bus.

- I didn't spend two hours doing your nails

for us to go home early.

Come on!

- Caitlin, Cait-- God, you always do this.

- Hey! Hey!

You're Jeff, right? Turnkot's manager?

Turnkot told me to talk to you about getting on the bus.

- Yeah, I'm sure he did.

- It's true!

He DM'd me from his fan account.

Ask him.

Turnkot!

It's Caitlin.

Remember, we were gonna hang?

You said I'd be good for your next video.

- All right.

It's your lucky night.

[laughter] - Oh, my God.

- Wait. Hey, are you sure about this?

- Harsha, this is going to be the best night of our lives.

- Okay.

[muffled hip-hop music playing]

♪

all: Cheers!

- Cheers! [laughs]

- You looking stressed, beautiful.

- [clears throat]

I'm fine.

- Come sit next to me.

Come on. - Okay.

- Chill.

Relax.

- You can never have too much of this good stuff--

[horn blares, brakes screeching]

What the hell is going on up there?

- What the hell are you doing? Get out of the way!

[horn honking]

[tense music]

[gunshots]

[screaming] - Oh, my God!

[gunshots]

[both screaming]

♪

- Morning. - Hey.

- Hey. - Morning.

- I'm sorry I fell asleep on the couch.

I was drowning in paperwork.

- All good. Didn't wanna wake you.

It looked like you were sleeping and dreaming

of after-action reports.

- Well, I am all caught up now.

And I am free tonight, if you wanna celebrate.

- Yeah, always.

What are we celebrating?

- I have officially hit my 20th at the bureau

and can retire with full benefits.

It happened in the blink of an eye.

- Izzy, that's great.

Congratulations. - Thank you.

- I'm gonna decant something ridiculous for tonight.

- You know, before I met you, my job was everything.

And you have been nothing but patient.

- Oh, please, patience has nothing to do with it.

I know full well how dedicated you are, how passionate.

And frankly, I find it--

- Exhausting? - Sensual, actually.

- [laughs]

Can I ask you something? - Yeah.

- How did you know when it was time to retire?

- [sighs]

[chuckles]

I don't know. I just, uh...

[sighs]

I don't know.

Look, the work never ends, right?

And so I think at a certain point,

I just felt that my part in the work was finished.

[pensive music]

- Hmm.

- Seven dead, including Lewis Thorton.

You most likely know him by another name,

Turnkot.

- The rapper.

My sister used to listen to him.

- Yeah, he's got fans.

They're on the sidewalk with paparazzi,

dying to contaminate the scene.

Could have published a book with all the lyrics this jagoff

wrote about PD, so Chief felt that the Feds would be better,

you know, situated to deal with it.

- Appreciate that.

Who were the other vics?

- Members of his entourage and last night's lucky duo.

- Lucky duo?

- Manager said guy had a tradition--

pick two lucky fans to party with after the show.

[suspenseful music]

- [sighs]

It wasn't part of the tradition to check IDs.

I mean, these are kids. These girls gotta be, what?

- 16, according to her learner's permit.

Same with her friend.

- Tell your chief we're happy to help.

- I'll tell you what. This looks personal.

- Yeah? Why do you say that?

- Well, he still has half a million around his neck.

Nothing else was taken.

This wasn't about money. - Right.

So what was it about?

- Turnkot was on the rise. I really believe that.

And now his publicist is up my ass about releasing

his final LP posthumously.

Can we bury the guy first?

I tried to tell him, when you get to a certain level of fame,

you've gotta have real security.

Instead, he hired his friends.

- Were there any incidents before this?

- You'd get the occasional drunk fan who didn't leave.

A couple kids tried to siphon gas out of our tank.

Stuff like that, but nothing like this!

- Any idea who would wanna target Turnkot?

- Lady, did they not provide you internet?

Anyone who's ever been online knows who did this.

- Good morning, everybody.

So yeah, Turnkot, AKA Lewis Thorton,

was gunned down late last night,

along with his entourage and two teenage girls,

Caitlin Thomas and Harsha Andani, fans of his

who were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Now, the rapper's manager seems to think

the murders were fallout from some very public rap beef.

I'm more of a yacht rock guy myself,

so someone might have to help me out with that.

- Well, embarrassed to admit, but while everybody has been

obsessed with the Drake/Kendrick Lamar feud,

I have been tracking Turnkot's beef with Tariq Ward.

You know Tariq Ward, Brooklyn-based rapper.

They had a very contentious run-in on stage

at Rolling Loud, a hip-hop festival that

turned into a full-on war, with both men dropping

brutal diss tracks every week.

You're familiar with diss tracks?

- Now, be nice.

All right, so they were trading insults.

Is that really motive for murder?

- Well, more than just insults.

Tariq accused Turnkot of being a pedophile.

"High on his own supply of high school hotties"

was the lyric, so Turnkot threatened to put

a bullet in Tariq's ear.

At least then he'd have an excuse to be tone deaf.

- All right, well, is there any reason to believe

these threats are anything more than bluster?

- Well, both Tariq and Turnkot have rap sheets.

Their lyrics point to an affiliation with rival gangs.

Tariq has a litany of weapons charges,

and he served 18 months for aggravated assault

a few years back.

- Yeah, Jubal, you're gonna want to see this.

- Okay.

- Guessing the charts ain't enough, huh?

After that verse, you gon' need a hearse for real.

Brooklyn ain't your bitch, bitch.

Go back to Cleveland.

Climb back in your ditch, snitch.

You little rat.

I heard you like 'em young, son.

Ain't no time for that.

I throw on the track, squash you like a gnat.

Time to get my gun and make you flashback.

- Okay, when did he post this?

- Uh, during Turnkot's Brooklyn show,

two hours before the bus attack.

- We should talk to him. Let's bring him in.

♪

[hip-hop music playing]

- It costs a whole lot. You see that?

You see that green? All that, baby.

- All right, Agent Rhodes, you ready to go viral?

- Here we go.

- FBI.

Tariq Ward--Tariq.

FBI. Special Agent Zidan. This is Rhodes and Scola.

We have some questions to ask you, if you'd come with us.

- Ah, here we go.

It's the Feds, y'all. The Federales!

Turnkot gets popped, now we here.

Better watch yourself, suit. I ain't going nowhere.

- You wanna set an example for the kids, Mr. Ward?

Cooperate.

- Ask me nicely, baby girl. I just might.

As long as you promise to bust out those handcuffs.

- No, you're not gonna talk to her like that.

- Ain't nobody talking to you, white boy.

Get the hell off my set. - Hey, hey.

You can't put hands-- - Back up. Back up.

Back up. Back up. - Relax, everybody.

- Get off of me! - Back up. Back up.

- You can't put your hands on us.

See how that works? Come on.

Now you gotta come with me. Let's go.

- You come for me, you gonna bleed!

Make no mistake.

Turnkot dropped tracks!

Tariq Ward drops bodies!

I warned him not to come to Brooklyn, didn't I?

Didn't I?

- Okay, buddy, let's go.

- Hey, my bad, heavy.

Had to do my thing for the cameras.

You know, everything content these days.

But you get it.

- You say "content." I heard a confession.

- Now, listen, I didn't ice Turnkot.

- We know that you guys have been fighting

on stage, social media, making threats of violence.

From where I'm sitting, it looks like

you finally snapped and made good on those threats.

- Hold up, me and my boys were in AC last night--

Borgata Casino, craps table.

They got video. - We'll verify that.

And we need the names of your boys too.

- Of course.

Look, this whole feud was just publicity, okay?

Streamers only cut us on at 0.003 cents per stream,

and that goes to my label. Then I get a cut.

Multiply that by 2 mil, and I'm still broke.

I wanted to quit.

Then I found the cheat code.

There's a linear-ass correlation

between engagement with our diss tracks

and the streaming charts. Put me on Rap Caviar.

Now, why would I want him dead?

This beef's the best thing to ever happen to me.

- Okay.

If not you, then who else would come for Turnkot?

- I mean, let's be real. Nobody liked Turnkot.

He was full of himself, rude,

his thing for young girls.

And don't get me started on that crook, Jeff Mills.

- His tour manager?

- Mills used to be my guy--

till I caught him skimming cash,

charging me for expenses I never used on tour.

When I saw that same fully optioned electric tour bus

on "TMZ," I knew what was up--

Jeff Mills running the same old tired-ass scams.

- He say the tour bus is electric?

- Yeah. Why?

- Mills mentioned the gas tanks earlier.

An EV wouldn't have those.

- Well, let's go see if ERT is still processing the scene.

- All right, thank you.

ERT confirmed the bus is fully electric.

- Okay, well, that would have freed up space

for them to build this thing. Look at this.

Hold on.

[grunts]

[whistles] Okay.

This is a pretty serious custom trap job.

- What do you think was in there?

- I don't know.

But whatever it was, apparently it was worth

killing seven people for.

- Scola. - Yeah.

- I've got another one over here.

♪

That's about $2 million worth of cocaine right there.

This wasn't about some rap beef.

- No.

Something tells me this was just the opening shot.

♪

- You lied to a federal agent, Jeff.

- That's felony number one.

Given that you were trying to skip town

when we picked you up, I figured we're not

the only ones you're ducking.

So who are you running drugs for?

- Well, that depends on

what kind of plea deal you can offer.

- You were using your bus to distribute drugs

all across the country, using your client's tours as cover.

- Felony number two.

That's 20 years, minimum.

Maybe 30, with all the innocent lives lost

as a result of your scheme,

two of which were teenage girls.

- If we find out that you provided underage girls

for your client, that's human trafficking of minors.

10 to life, if they convict.

- I was not a part of that.

I told him to cut it out with the girls,

but, uh, I worked for the guy, you know?

He didn't listen.

I'm heartbroken those kids got killed.

Maybe...

I could get another client to do a benefit concert.

- Yeah, I don't think a benefit concert

is gonna cut it, okay?

So who are you moving these drugs for?

[suspenseful music]

♪

- Oh, I'd rather be quiet than dead.

My suppliers are not forgiving people.

If I talk,

these guys will disembowel me.

- Two girls are dead for no reason.

You can make that right.

♪

- I'll need protection.

A lot of it.

- Yeah, you'll get protection.

Now, give us some names.

- Yeah, all right, folks, so Jeff Mills just admitted

to using Turnkot's tour to run drugs

for a gang called the Solanos.

Gang Unit, you wanna bring us up to speed on them?

- The Solanos are known narco traffickers

with relatively new footholds up and down the east coast.

Locally, they've cornered the market on pink cocaine.

- Okay, this is the--the drug that the One Direction singer

was on when he died, right? - Correct.

It doesn't actually have cocaine in it.

Usually, it's a mixture of ketamine, MDMA, and opioids,

making it four times as potent.

- We've been trying to figure out how

they moved their product for months.

- Okay, so one mystery solved.

But the Solanos wouldn't hit their own stash.

So who might have wanted to rob them?

- It's a long list.

Every gang in the tristate area

has lost territory to the Solanos.

- Right.

All right, well, let's work smarter, not harder.

Has any pink cocaine hit the street since last night?

- Short answer is yes.

One of my street level CIs said he saw a crew of guys

at a club in Midtown last night,

selling and seemingly celebrating with pink cocaine.

- All right, let's get a location on those guys.

[tense music]

- Perimeter is in place. Let's move.

♪

Place is empty.

[gunshots]

[suspenseful music]

♪

You good?

- All good.

- It's definitely the crew

that ripped off the Solanos' shipment.

- Yeah.

But who are they?

♪

- All right, folks! What have we got?

Give me something good.

- Ballistics confirmed a match this morning.

Shooters were the same traffickers

that attacked the tour bus.

Good news, they won't be hurting anyone else.

Two of them were local hoods, guns for hire.

Bad news is that the third was a capo

for the Grippo Crime Family.

- Uh, oh, okay.

But last I heard, the Grippos had gone quiet.

- Yeah, or that's how they wanted it to look.

They wound down operations, trafficking guns, women,

various substances, especially after they lost

their patriarch, Jack Grippo.

He is number three on the Most Wanted watch list

with a hefty million-dollar reward.

UFAP still has an outstanding warrant for his arrest.

But in 2009, he fled to Cuba, a non-extradition country,

and has been untouchable ever since.

- You keeping tabs on old Jack?

- Well, it's one of those names.

I can't help myself. - Right.

So Jack is in hiding.

What, someone's been making moves in his name?

- Rumor has it that would be Sonny Grippo, Jack's son.

- Right.

Organized Crime suspects he's been

secretly rebuilding the org.

He's been questioned in connection

to several major crimes, but there hasn't been

enough evidence to arrest him.

- Do we have a location on Sonny?

- Yeah--cell phone's pinging from his residence in Chelsea.

- All right, we don't have enough to arrest him, not yet,

but we can make him sweat.

Bring him in. - Yeah.

- And Jubal, when he gets here, let me know.

I wanna run point on this one.

- Yeah, yeah.

[suspenseful music]

♪

- You recognize this man?

- Isn't ID'ing victims supposed to be your job?

- I wouldn't refer to him as a victim, Mr. Grippo.

He and his two associates killed seven people

in the past 24 hours.

Take a closer look.

- Oh, yeah.

I think maybe he used to work for my pops.

- It's interesting.

Your father's been gone 16 years,

but his boys remain active.

- If you say so.

- This man who did work for your father didn't just hit

a multi-million dollar cocaine jackpot

without someone's say so.

And you're the most senior member of the Grippo family

here in New York.

- It's you.

You've been running your father's operation.

- [laughs]

- Not another word, Sonny, or I swear to God,

I'll slap your fillings out.

I'm Billie Abbott, Sonny Grippo's attorney.

- It was his decision to come in without an attorney.

- He changed his mind.

- Well, we're gonna need to hear that from him.

- Careful.

When my sister gets going, nothing on God's green Earth

will shut her up.

So just save yourself some grief and let her do her thing.

- No handcuffs means you haven't booked him

'cause you've got nothing to charge him with.

And you're not going on some fishing expedition in the hopes

that my brother incriminates himself on a lesser charge,

so leave him the hell alone.

- People are dead, including two 16-year-old girls

who got on a tour bus and never made it home

because your family started a gang war.

- I understand you're just doing your jobs,

and I genuinely hope you find the person responsible.

Good luck.

But I am taking my client home.

- Are you married, counselor?

- No.

- Then your last name, you changed it

to put some distance between you

and your father's reputation, right?

- I live my whole life in fear of becoming

part of his collateral damage.

People I love are dead because of him.

- I was at the crime scene where they found your mother.

You were very young.

I'm so sorry.

- So you know

it's not just my father's name that was poisoned.

- Can you really look at both of us

and tell us you have no idea how violence

has continued in your father's name,

16 years after he left the country?

- Listen to yourself.

Do you really think that Jack Grippo would ever

willingly give up his throne?

- Billie Abbott claims that her father, Jack Grippo,

is still running the family's operations from Cuba.

- Well, Interpol doesn't have much on his activities in Cuba.

Moves often, pays in U.S. cash, which is untraceable.

- Yeah, well, there has to be a digital trail somewhere.

AUSA fast-tracked an electronic search warrant for Sonny, so.

- Uh, yeah, I'm combing Sonny's internet history.

It turns out he's got a burner email account,

nothing in the inbox or outbox, but a few draft emails.

- So what, he has anxiety about hitting send?

- Not exactly.

It isn't only Sonny's IP address

that logs into the account.

There are two.

The other one is in Cuba.

He's foldering.

It's a covert communication tactic.

Two users on one email account

send messages to each other in drafts without ever sending.

It's old school. - Yeah, okay.

Okay, so this is how Jack Grippo signaled his son

to hit the Solano drug shipment,

which caused the murders of seven folks,

including two innocent girls.

That's gotta be enough to arrest Sonny, right?

- When was their last correspondence?

- Last night after the murders.

Timestamp on the last login matches the sign-in from Cuba,

so it had to have been written by Jack.

"I'll deliver the flowers to the wedding tomorrow myself."

- Does that sound like Jack Grippo's

returning to U.S. soil?

- He knows that he'd be risking capture.

If he's coming back, it's for something big.

- Right. So who's getting married?

- How about two rival gangs?

The city's drug trade is roughly divided

into these territories.

If OC's intel is correct, the Grippos have been

quietly taking back their old neighborhoods.

They're in blue, Solanos green.

If the Grippos took over the Solanos...

[suspenseful music]

It would effectively double the Grippos' territory.

- Right, okay, so last night was a warning shot.

Jack Grippo is coming over here to negotiate

a Solano surrender, an arranged marriage at best, right?

- Well, Grippo has taken over gangs before.

If they don't submit, he will punish them

and their neighbors.

Innocent people are gonna die unless we stop them.

- I agree.

So do we start by arresting Sonny Grippo?

- No.

I have another idea.

♪

- Hey.

So Scola confirmed the tracker is in place on Sonny's vehicle.

He should lead us right to his father.

You chased Jack before, right? - Yeah.

Yeah, I was part of the joint task force that tried

to take Grippo down in '09.

We had him pinned to a safe house in Queens.

He shot his way out, killing two agents,

including one of my instructors from Quantico.

- Right.

- I don't know if Jack Grippo is bold enough

to come back in town, but I hope he is.

And then he can watch with his own eyes

while I tear down his entire organization for good.

[tense music]

♪

- Jubal, Sonny Grippo just pulled into Teterboro.

It's gotta be where his dad's landing.

- The place is packed with private jets.

That tracks.

- We're covering the FBO gate, but we're gonna need

state troopers at all the rest.

- Okay, coordinating now.

- All right, OA. You got the ball?

- I got eyes on Sonny's vehicle.

I've got Sonny and two guys going into hangar 81.

Can you get an angle inside the door?

- Hold on.

All right, it looks like a plane

might have already landed.

I can see a jet in there, but I can't see a tail number.

[tablet beeps]

- Okay, Moran just sent over a confirmation for a flight

that pulled into hangar 81.

Originated in...

Cuba.

- I'm going in.

- Be careful.

♪

- I got eyes on Jack Grippo.

- We'll intercept him at the FBO gate.

Don't spook him.

- Who the hell are you?

[grunting]

- OA? Hello?

♪

- Come on. [indistinct shout]

- Jack Grippo's getting into a black Mercedes.

I repeat, Jack Grippo is getting into a black--

[tires screeching]

- There he is. I see him. - Get in.

[tires screeching]

♪

- FBI!

Get out of the car!

- Out of the car with your hands up now!

- Come on.

- Who the hell are you?

- What? - Who is that?

- It's not Grippo.

♪

Jubal, we don't have Grippo.

He used a decoy.

♪

- Hey, so we just questioned

Grippo's decoy with an interpreter--

Cuban national, only speaks Spanish--

says he does not know Grippo.

He was paid handsomely in cash by a local guy

to take a flight to New Jersey.

And we searched the airport.

Sonny ditched his phone, and he's in the wind.

- So they led us to Teterboro, knowing we'd be looking south,

while Grippo made his real entrance from the north.

- Yeah, and Marshal Service Fugitive Task Force

just confirmed it, sent us video footage

of Grippo crossing the border into the U.S. ten minutes

after Sonny arrived at Teterboro.

- So we have nothing.

- Grippo didn't make it to number three

on the Most Wanted list without being slippery.

You know that.

- Yeah, I just really--

I really thought that we were gonna get him this time.

[pensive music]

You know, today, I hit my 20.

I thought maybe...

- What are you talking about?

That you'd be--you'd be out?

[phone buzzes]

- Our friends from the FAA.

You know that decoy flight that Grippo used?

We know who chartered it.

- I can assure you, I had nothing to do

with booking any flight for my father.

- Your name was on the charter,

including the Swiss wire transfer that paid for it.

- Check again.

You'll find I've never accessed that account.

I've never even heard of it.

I'm sure my father borrowed my identity.

It wouldn't be the first time.

People are nothing but pawns to him.

- Including your brother?

He was at the airport when the jet landed.

He met with your father's decoy.

This does not look good for him.

- Are you charging my client with something?

- Your brother is a person of interest

in a litany of violent crimes

associated with the Grippo family.

This does not end well for him.

- My father is the real problem.

I want Jack Grippo behind bars as much as you do.

- Then please tell me where he is.

End this.

[suspenseful music]

♪

- I would have a condition.

I want full immunity for my brother.

- Well, I had a feeling that you would say that,

so I got ahead of the paperwork.

Sonny will have full immunity if you can deliver your father.

♪

Good.

- All right, Billie, so your job

is pretty straightforward here, okay?

Once your brother gets to your office,

you're trying to get him to talk

about where your dad's holed up.

- And the FBI will use that intel to nail Jack Grippo.

- You seem pretty resolute.

- [sighs] It feels fated.

Sonny'd never turn on our dad.

He worships the guy--always sided with him over me.

And still, I can't abandon my brother.

I guess loyalty is the family curse.

- All right, looks good.

Ready?

- Yeah.

- All right, Billie, just remember,

keep him talking, lean forward, draw him in.

You'll be fine.

- If Sonny finds out I'm wearing a wire,

I don't know what he'll do. - Okay.

We've got an agent monitoring the situation

one floor above you, and we are close by.

- [exhales deeply]

- MTA spotted Sonny hopping off the train a few minutes ago.

He should be here any second.

- Where's your phone?

- It's right here.

- You've gotta be careful. Dad's here.

Things are heating up, and these Feds,

they're trying to follow me.

- I know. The FBI called me.

Look, Sonny, I'm can't be your lawyer anymore.

You need to find somebody who can handle this kind of mess.

I'm out.

The Feds saw you at Teterboro.

They know you're in deep with Dad.

They're trying to bring you both down.

- Let them try! Dad's not worried.

- They are closer than you think, Sonny!

[tense music]

- [sighs] How close?

- Well, they're not exactly sharing intel with me,

but I think they know where Dad is.

- Okay, okay, I hear you,

but if that's the case, I gotta go warn him.

- Billie, do not let him leave without getting that location.

- Sonny, Sonny, be smart.

What if you're with Dad when the Feds come in?

You cannot afford to incriminate yourself more.

Please, I don't wanna lose you.

- Okay, she's working him.

- He'll bite.

Family is where most people let their guard down.

- That new? - Huh?

- Ah, I just see your necklace.

I--I haven't seen you without Mom's pearls since she--

- It doesn't go with this dress, all right?

Look, I'll warn Dad.

They're not after me.

You can lay low.

- All right.

- Just tell me where to find Dad tonight.

- He's meeting up with the Solanos at Tom's place.

- Tom's place?

- Got it.

I'll take care of it.

- It seems like she knows.

Billie, you've got the location.

Wrap it up.

- You go home, wait for my call.

After I talk to Dad, I'll give you a call.

- Why do you keep playing with that necklace?

Let me see it. - No, it's nothing.

- Just let me see it. - Don't be an idiot.

- OA, are you hearing this?

- Yeah. - It's just a necklace.

- An idiot? Don't call me an idiot.

- Hey! - Let me see this.

- Get off me, Sonny!

No, Sonny! - What is this?

Is this a bug? - No, no.

- Is this a bug? - No, of course not.

- You'd do that to me and Dad? - No, no, of course not.

Please! Please! I've only ever tried to protect you.

- He made her. - No!

[screams] Sonny, no!

- I'm going in.

♪

Drop it!

Put it down! - [gasps]

- This is Agent Zidan.

I need medical to the third floor.

- Sit, sit, sit. Are you hit? What the hell happened in here?

- [panting] He--he pulled his gun on me.

I didn't--I didn't-- I didn't have a choice.

I didn't have a choice.

I didn't have a choice!

[sobbing]

♪

- EMT confirmed Sonny's carotid artery was hit.

There's nothing else we could have done.

- I'm not sure how she recovers from this.

- So this was self-defense,

open and shut, okay?

- He's my brother,

my own flesh and blood.

And he tried to kill me.

- Yeah, Billie, this doesn't all

have to be for nothing, okay?

[soft music]

You can tell me where your father is.

What's Tom's place?

- It's a nickname

for a bar that my dad owns

through a front

on Roosevelt Ave.

- Thank you.

And I'm sorry.

And I want you to know that your father

is never gonna hurt anybody ever again.

♪

- SWAT's on hand.

We have a staging area across the street.

But, Isobel, the bar's looking pretty crowded.

- If Grippo is meeting with Marcus Solano in there,

and we go in hot, things could get bloody quickly.

- And if we don't, he could slip through our fingers again.

- Yeah.

- Move in and take no chances.

[tense music]

♪

[rock music playing]

♪

- Possible ID--blue ball cap.

It's not him.

False hit. I repeat, false hit.

- Come on, Scola! Give us something.

[static screeching]

- What the hell was that?

[tense music]

- Little trick I learned in Cuba.

Drop your comms.

Good boy.

♪

- Jubal, what's going on inside?

We're blind out here. - Keep holding.

Ian, where are we?

What's going on with Scola's comms?

They malfunction or what?

- RF jam--it only flicked on for a second,

but now his comms are offline. - Okay.

But we've got eyes on the exits, right?

- Yes, he's still in there.

- This doesn't feel right.

- We're going in.

Move! Move! Move! - Move. Go.

[tense music]

♪

- FBI! Nobody move.

- Everybody stay right where you are.

♪

- No sign of Scola.

- Jubal, Scola's not here.

- What? We have eyes on every exit.

Ian, I need a floor plan of this building.

There must be another exit we don't know about or a tunnel.

- Yeah, working on it.

- Where the hell is Sonny?

Find my son.

Tell him to move the meet with Solanos.

Meet me out back behind the place.

- All right.

- You're too pretty for a cop.

It's the damn Feds in the end, huh?

- That's what happens when two teenagers die

off of a call that you make.

- War has casualties.

Now, move the rack for me.

Move it. - This?

- Move it!

♪

Open the door.

Good boy. Now, sit.

- This is not the move you wanna make.

- I ain't proud to say I agree,

but I'm running out of moves here.

Free piece of advice, kid.

Always leave yourself a way out.

- He's not in the office.

- He's not in the kitchen.

- We don't have eyes on Scola, Jubal.

- Ian, you got it?

- Uh, yeah, the bar did a remodel 20 years ago.

I pulled schematics from the city's building department.

Now, they don't show it on these new plans,

but the bar used to have a basement.

That old stairwell was on the west wall.

- Get down the west side.

- We're not seeing it.

- Building permits don't lie.

- Wait, hold up.

I've got drag marks on the floor from a door.

- Okay.

Could you guys get up for us, please?

- Let's move.

- Kidnapping an FBI agent

is not gonna get you what you want.

- We're going out that door.

Unless you're stupid, you'll be just fine.

- You know why you can't find your son?

He didn't make it.

- What are you saying? What did you do?

- I was up on surveillance.

He went after Billie,

and she defended herself.

- He wouldn't.

You did this. You put him in a corner.

- Your boy folded.

How do you think we knew that you were meeting the Solanos

here at Tom's place?

- Tom's place? Huh?

♪

Maybe you're not so smart.

- Either way,

he gave you up.

- But this isn't Tom's place.

Tom's place is the bowling alley,

as my cunning bitch daughter well knows.

- Drop the gun, Jack!

♪

[gunshot]

Isobel, we got him.

And we're gonna need a coroner.

♪

- You keep playing with that necklace.

Let me--let me just see it. - No.

It's--don't be an idiot. It's just a necklace.

- An idiot? I'm not an idiot! Let me see it.

- No, get off me! [gasps]

- Is this thing bugged?

- No, I've only ever tried to protect you!

No!

No, Sonny, no!

[knock at door]

- Hey, you got a minute?

- Yeah.

- So there was this thing that Grippo said to me in the cellar

that just keeps going through my head,

that we had the wrong location, right?

That Tom's place wasn't a bar but a bowling alley.

So I dug in with the Gang Unit.

Apparently, there is a bowling alley up in the Bronx

that Grippo's guys hang out at.

ERT just sent us the pole cam footage from their location.

Take a look.

[suspenseful music]

♪

- Billie Abbott took the meeting.

She made the deal with the Solanos.

- She was planning on killing her own brother.

- And she used us to clear the board, to seize power,

and form a Grippo-Solano alliance,

something her own father couldn't do.

And she did it without leaving any fingerprints.

♪

Oh, my gosh.

Thank you.

- Of course.

Well, it's a big day for you.

- Yeah.

Um...

- Did I say something wrong?

- No. Gosh, no.

Not at all.

Um, just today, we caught a man

I thought we'd never get close enough to touch.

And you know, for a second, I thought maybe it was a sign,

catching him the day I hit my 20.

- Feels like a sign to me.

But--

- Yeah, the but. - But.

- Somebody else took his place,

someone new to chase.

You--you were right.

The work never ends.

- Look, I'm sorry it wasn't more of a clear-cut W

for you, Izzy.

But again,

you decide when your part in the work is finished.

- Yeah.

Well, I'm not finished.

Not yet.

- Well, then...

[soft music]

- Thank you.

So what are we drinking to?

- To the chase.

- Yeah.

♪

[dramatic music]

♪

[wolf howls]