All language subtitles for Countdown.S01E06.ITA.WEBDL.1080p

Mikhail Durko is in custody. His
nephew, Timur Novikov, is dead.

-There was a name. Gallagher.
-Gallagher?

Yeah, just like it sounds.

Set a meeting with the
Belarusian consul general.

I told you before, I don't
know anyone named Volchek.

How hard would it be to get inside
the consulate's computer systems?

I could install a
rootkit. Then we'd be in.

-You say the headaches are worse?
-I'm just looking for a little relief.

Live out the time you have left
in as much comfort as you can.

Wish I could, Doc.

Nice.

Whirlybirds at 50 feet?

Yeah, go ahead.

Yeah. Good.

Don't patronize me.

-Let's see you. Come on.
-All right.

Okay. I remember.

Airborne ranger.

Plus a distinguished expert.

-What does that mean?
-Marksmanship.

It's the highest ranking. But
that's for others to tell people.

I wouldn't think of telling
you something like that.

-Oh, no. You would never.
-No.

All right. Show me.
Hit dude in the window.

-Why? What'd he do to me?
-Punched your mom in the balls.

-Jesus.
-You heard me.

What's wrong with you?

All right.

When we're in a firefight,
you stand right next to me.

Done.

Mr. Harris, it sure is a pleasure
having you here in person.

I'm sure you'll find everything's
in order in the contract.

It's pretty boilerplate,
standard fare.

When could I expect delivery?

Give the bank a couple of
days to transfer funds,

and I don't see why you can't
have delivery by Friday.

That would be beautiful.

-Does your CFO need to look at anything?
-No. I base my business on trust.

And I trust you'll
deliver when you say.

We will see you on Friday.

I look forward to it.

Always good to see
American capitalists

so happy to make sales.

It brings them
their greatest joy.

Give them a month.
They won't be smiling.

I'd drink to that with the
best vodka from the homeland,

but seems all on hand is a
coffee shop in the lobby.

You want one?

Black. Two sugars.

Vusovich?

Or should I call you "Volchek?"

I am Iosif Astapov.

The Belarusian Consul General.

I am here to tell you your government
is prepared to take a fresh look

at your legal troubles
in the homeland.

I think you have
the wrong man.

I am sure I do not.

The Americans are
closing in on you.

They came to my office,
asking a lot of questions.

They even broke into
our computer servers,

fishing for
information about you.

Still, Belarus would prefer not
to antagonize our host country.

It would be in our best interest

if you give up whatever
plans you hold here

and return to Minsk.

You'll be welcomed back to your
birth country with open arms.

I will consider your offer.

Do not think long.

I found you once.

I can do it again, huh?

Okay. So, as you know,

we have been painstakingly drilling
down on the name Gallagher.

The one that Meachum saw in the map
in the basement of the dance hall.

It did take some time, but we
were able to find this man.

Shawn Killian Gallagher.

He was friends with Timur
Novikov in high school.

And in 2013, they were arrested
together for carjacking.

And we're just finding
out about this now?

He was a minor when it happened,
so his records were sealed,

but Bell worked
a friendly judge.

-Called in a favor.
-Good job.

Turns out Gallagher was arrested
twice more for drug trafficking.

He did two short stretches and
is currently out on parole.

Okay. Meachum and I
will talk to his PO.

Uh, sir.

The Belarusian consulate discovered
our rootkit and severed the connection.

We no longer have access
to their classified files.

Also, I find it curious that
they didn't close the consulate

or report they've been
breached or infiltrated.

I mean, Meachum took down
three of their security detail.

You would've thought
that made it to the wire.

Yeah. Well, with things
so tense at home,

the Consul General Astapov likely
wanted to keep things quiet

so as not to draw heat
from his superiors.

My dad used to call
that a CYA rug sweeper.

Exactly.

-Thank you.
-Thank you.

-You really with DEA?
-Fifteen years.

You know I applied there?

They said I was in line,
but it's real political.

Yeah. It's not something
they'll say on record,

but it's all about who you know.

I guess I don't know
the right people.

Come in. Come in. Have
a seat. Have a seat.

Good to see you fellow law
enforcement officers in here.

Yeah. Departments working together.
It's the symmetry that gets you places.

I read about the LAPD and
the FBI not getting along,

but different breed dogs
work in the same pack.

Am I right?

Um, so...

...we understand that you are
Shawn Gallagher's parole officer.

I'm the senior PO for a lot
of bad hombres. Let me check.

Yeah. Shawn
Gallagher. This guy.

-He's a real fried egg.
-What does that mean?

He's one of those, uh...
whatchamacallit... um, doomsdayers.

"The end of times are
coming," you know?

"The cell towers are turning our
water to poison." That type of thing.

-Right.
-He's all the way into it.

I give him about 92% chance he
violates before his time's up.

Mark my words.

Has he been making his
regular appointments?

-Yeah.
-Secured employment?

You know, I think so, but, uh,
looks like I'm a little backed up.

I haven't updated the system.

-How about, uh, an LKA?
-Of course.

What's the average
on... on violators?

-About 70% get rearrested the first year.
-You're kidding.

I'm not, sir. Not about that.

Uh, here we go. House
in Highland Park.

-Hmm.
-You, uh... You want me to text it to you?

Oh, no. No, that's, uh...

We can... ...not do that.

Look at this.

Boom. See?

Got it. Thank you for your time.

Uh, Sam Johnson.

In case you wanna put in a word
for me with your bosses at the DEA.

Yeah. I-I will do that.

Stan Jackson. Got it. Okay.

In here.

All of you.

This morning,
following my meeting,

I was confronted
by Iosif Astapov,

the Consul General of Belarus.

I don't know how he found
me, just that he did.

He meant to intimidate me,

but he will find that
throwing rocks at a bear

is a way to get
your face mauled.

He will not spoil my plans to
bring this country to its knees!

I want to know his schedule,

what he does every
hour of every day.

I want to know everything
about his daily routine...

where he eats, where he sleeps,
where he smokes his cigarettes, okay?

Understood?

Find out! Today!

-Well, this is it.
-All right.

-All right.
-Oof.

What's going on?

Nothing. Just like... You know
when you drink an Icee too fast?

Well, we're good. Let's go.

You guys cops?

Yeah. LAPD. You
should go back inside.

You looking for Shawn Gallagher?

Yeah. You know him?

I know he hasn't
been there in months.

That place is a ghost house.

All right. Go back inside.

-He took my hot plate, if you see it.
-Not gonna tell you again.

All right. This guy's a prep per,
so he's probably gonna be strapped.

Shawn Gallagher,
police. Open up.

Well, look at that.

That would've sucked.

Jesus.

-Clear.
-Clear.

This guy's not home.

It looks like he hasn't
been home for weeks.

Let's get out of here
before a grenade goes off.

-Should we grab the neighbor's hot plate?
-Ah, fuck that guy.

All right. Well, Shawn
Gallagher was definitely there.

The place was like a booby-trapped
little house of horrors.

-That dude is out there.
-Yeah.

Yeah. I looked under
the hood on him,

including the list of visitors he
received during his various jail stints,

and the same name popped up in
over ten different visitor logs

for dates over the
course of a year.

Wade Trippett.

Record?

Drunk and disorderly from five years
ago, but no felonies and no jail time.

That many visits? He's
not just a friend.

-You and Finau go talk to Trippett.
-Oh, thank God.

I've had all the wacko
ambushes I can take for a day.

Tag. You're it.

Yeah. I have his work address.
It's Shoe Heaven, at the Vine.

Oh, come on. A mall?

Yeah. I called earlier,
and he's working right now.

Oh, great. We get trip wires,
these guys get to go shoe shopping?

Let me know what size
Jordans you want, bro.

Yeah. You're not funny.

Twelve!

If they have it.

Every morning, Astapov
walks in Pan Pacific Park,

from 7:00 to 8:00.

He goes home, showers,

and is in his car heading
to the Consulate by 8:30.

He stops at Levain bakery on
Larchmont, then on to the Consulate.

Okay...

At the Consulate, he
stays most days till 4:30.

He has a standing table
at République on La Brea.

Every Tuesday and
Friday night, 7:30.

Other nights, home or
Consulate engagements.

Okay. Very good.

Of course.

Send Danill in to see me.

You wanted to see me?

I have been deciding on the
best place to strike Astapov.

I want to send him a message...

...you threaten me,

you will know what a
true threat looks like.

We will take him in this parking
lot outside of the bakery.

-When?
-In the next few days.

I understand.

Send in Radoslav.

You ever been here before?

Nah. Not a lot of Gang
Unit work at the mall.

There it is.

What size are these?

-You asked for a size 6, ma'am.
-Well, these are too small for a size 6.

You put them in the wrong box.

They are what they are, ma'am.

Well, could you just go get
me a real size 6 please?

Okay. Can I help you?

Special Agent Keyonte
Bell with the FBI.

Someplace we can talk?

Uh... Sure. Yeah.

Of course. Uh, just
give me a second here.

I need to run to the back and
get this lady another box of...

Yes, I visited Shawn Gallagher in
jail, but it's not what you think.

I was his AA sponsor.

He was struggling. He was
trying to get clean, but...

You know CIA, right?
Catholic Irish Alcoholic?

They get all the genetic
cards dealt against them.

Anyway, he called me when he was in
a fix, like he should've done, but...

This is embarrassing. I... I
fell off the wagon that day,

and I didn't see the call.

That's when Shawn got
aiding and abetting.

He got put in the pokey
for a two-year stretch.

I felt guilty as hell, man.

I mean, I'm his life
preserver, and I let him drown.

That's why I went to
visit him all the time.

I tried to get him
work when he got out,

helped him get a house
in Highland Park,

but he fell in this really
bad cult kinda shit.

Like end-of-days stuff, man.

I haven't seen him or
heard from him in months.

He's on the wagon
or-or off the wagon...

I don't know.

Do you have any idea
where he might be?

Yeah. He moved into a trailer
park out in Needles, California.

-Where's Needles?
-High desert.

-Wonderful.
-You have an address?

I do, actually.

It's on my phone. Can I...

Yeah, yeah.

Okay.

Do not call him. Do not try
to warn him we're coming.

Or you're gonna see us again.

No. Man, I-I'm shut of it all.

Okay. Don't let your
guilt tell you otherwise.

I won't.

Needles, California,
is appropriately named.

It's the meth
capital of the state,

with a crime rate that makes Chicago
look like the Garden of Eden.

Uh. That's my people.

I counted at least
14 trailer parks,

but Gallagher's address
puts him here at Vista Luna.

We think in the plot
abutting the Mojave.

But the only way to approach is
through the rest of the park.

Groovy.

Okay. Bell with Finau.
Oliveras with Meachum.

Move on him at sunrise. Let's hope
we catch him sleeping one off.

-Bring him in for questioning.
-Yes, sir.

You're in position
at the bakery?

-Yes.
-He's not going there.

Headed into the Consulate now.

-You're sure?
-Yes, sir.

All right.

Time to level with me.

Meaning?

Something's up.

What are you talking about?

You're squinting your left
eye more than your right.

You use the stairs, and it takes you
20 minutes to climb down 12 flights.

-I told you I left my phone at my desk.
-Don't fucking bullshit me.

I know junkie behavior
when I see it.

You're hiding shit, you're
lying straight to my face.

You're acting like a user.

Hmm.

Something you should know
a little bit about, huh?

Okay. So I guess
we're going there.

I figure we're pretty much
partners by this point,

so maybe this time, we put
all our cards on the table.

Fucking fine.

You want my cards?
Here are my cards.

You know where I'm from?

I'm from the suburbs of Chicago.

Grew up a little suburban chick.

Do you know what it takes
for a woman to go undercover

in Matamoros or Tijuana

when she spent her formative
years on a lake 2,000 miles north?

Balls.

That's right.

And that does
something to your head.

I was doing eight months UC work
in Brownsville, in Matamoros.

And one night, two narcos
held a gun to my head

and said if I didn't needle up with some
black tar, I wasn't gonna leave the room.

So I did.

And over three, four weeks, I shot
up probably have a dozen times.

And they thought, "Well, there's
no way this bitch is a cop.

Es una yonki."

Just a junkie.

When I came in from the cold, I got
clean, and my SAC covered for me.

Kept me away from
the drug testers.

These fucking guys who have
never been in the field.

Never had to choose between
a needle or a bullet.

Just want you to know,
I haven't dipped since.

Not once.

But goddamn, if I
don't think about it...

Not every day, and the stretches are
getting longer and longer, but yeah.

I think about shooting
up again. I do.

And sometimes I wonder if that
feeling will ever go away.

And that's it, Meachum.
That's all I got.

You're the first person
I told that story to.

Well, that sucks ass.

Yeah. Agreed.

Your turn.

I'm dealing with migraines
for the first time in my life.

Migraines?

Yeah. You know...

Dark tunnel, pain,
nausea. The works.

I just gave you
complete honesty.

So I'm gonna look you in the eye,
and I'm gonna ask you straight up.

You're not on something?

I am not.

The adrenaline gene?
Oh, I got that for sure.

But the other one? The drugs?

I don't have it.

Okay.

You talk to a doctor about it?

I have, yeah.

I keep asking him for
some stronger meds,

'cause this over-the-counter
bullshit isn't workin'.

He won't do it unless I
report it to the brass,

and then they'll just
put me on desk duty.

So, just gonna have to live with these
sons of bitches until the mission's over.

You're just eating the pain?

Yep. I mean, look, what
happened to Drew...

This mission is just too important,
so I'm just gonna deal with it.

I guess we're both screwed up.

I guess we are.

Second year driving in a shop,

we came across this 15-year-old
kid at Chesterfield Square.

Head smashed, cheekbones gone,

face just... unrecognizable.

-Stomped.
-Gang war?

Initiation.

-His own gang?
-Yeah.

After that, I
transferred to Gang Unit.

Swore if I could bust up shit like
that, that's what I'd do 100%.

Well, either way. I'm glad you
accepted this task force, man.

Yeah.

-What we're doing...
-Hmm.

...feels important.

I agree.

You know, there's never been a Black
deputy director of the FBI. Hmm?

Oh, yeah?

I'm gonna be the first.

Good man.

More conspicuous
than I'd prefer.

Let's just snatch and
grab this motherfucker

-and get the hell out of here.
-Yeah.

Looks like no one's home.

Last time we
knocked on his door,

he tried to Rambo us with
a board full of nails.

Shawn Gallagher.

This is Special Agent Keyonte Bell with
the Federal Bureau of Investigation.

We're gonna need you
to step outside now.

All right. Y'all wanna
rock, paper, scissors?

-See who takes that first step?
-I'll do it.

No sense in all four of us
getting our nuts blown off.

Or... You know what I mean.

-Why you?
-Don't discourage him.

Yeah. Just smile
and say thank you.

Gallagher?

You ambush me, I swear
to God you'll regret it.

Looks like we
might've missed him.

Oh, shit.

Shit!

Stay with him.

-I'll hit the highway, try to cut 'em off.
-Copy. On him.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Shit.

Oh, shit.

Whoo!

Oh, my God.

Oh, shit.

Oh.

Fuck.

Bell, Finau. We
gotta stop this guy.

Hold on.

-Get away from me!
-Come here.

He's out of his fucking mind.

Come on, man. We
just getting started.

He just kept coming at me.

-Hands behind your back. Now. Shut up.
-He's out of his fucking mind.

Well, that got a little salty.

You guys all right?

-Yeah.
-He's right.

You're out of your fucking mind.

How's it going, Shawn?

I ain't saying shit to you feds.

-He ask for a lawyer?
-No. Not yet.

Look, I know my rights. One
of them is to remain silent.

So, fuck you.

And fuck you too.

Hmm.

Yeah, do you also know about
felony reckless evading?

'Cause that's what
it looked like to me.

-He was gonna shoot me.
-Well, that's a good point.

That's assault on a federal
officer. That's also a felony.

I'm a sovereign citizen, so your
felonies, they don't mean shit.

Hmm.

Turn this off.

You know, you're so
far up your own ass,

you don't even hear what
we're trying to tell you.

We're on your side.

I'm serious.

You think we like where
this state is headed?

No. It's a hellhole.

This government, these politicians,
they don't give a flip about you or me

or what makes America
actually function.

That's right. You know, the southern
border is overrun with criminals,

and the swamp isn't doing
a damn thing to stop it.

But people in sanctuary cities

who've never been within
a hundred miles of Mexico,

they can't be bothered to get
us the funds that we need.

This is what I've been saying.

Yeah. I know.

And trust me, there are a lot more of us
in law enforcement than there are of them.

We're taking matters
into our own hands.

-Good.
-Yeah. That's what this is about.

We would've told you all that, but instead
you took off running like a maniac.

We had to bring you in,
man. 'Cause you ran.

Well, I saw a bunch of
feds busting down on me,

I thought it was TEOTHWAWKI.

-Tee-ought what?
-The end of the world as we know it.

-That's right.
-Yeah, yeah. No.

But, see, because we had
some actual feds with us,

we had to, uh, sell that arrest.

You're gonna be out of here as soon
as those assholes turn their heads.

So, how do we help you?

We know you got
something planned.

With Timur.

-Who?
-Timur Novikov.

Who you grew up
with? The carjacking?

I don't know no Timur Novikov.

Yeah, you do. The Belarusians.

-The who?
-Okay, look.

You want to keep it
inside, that's fine.

That's cool with me but I'm just trying
to tell you, we can be your inside help.

I can be your
get-out-of-jail-free card.

Nobody wants to give it to
these big cities like I do.

I'm down for that.

Straight up, I don't
know no Belarusian.

Well, they know you.
Volchek and Timur Novikov.

-Mikhail Durko.
-Mm-hmm.

-Know me?
-Oh, yeah.

But we can't help you if you don't
get us into that inside circle.

-You know what I mean?
-What are you guys talking about?

Circles, Belarusians...

I wanna kick some feds in the
throat just as much as you do,

but I ain't got a clue
what you're sayin'.

Hmm.

I don't know, boss. I
don't think he's lying.

He's not smart enough
to pull that off.

Let me take a run at him.

Yeah. Have at it.

Oh, I see.

It's like the car salesman goes
in the back to get the manager.

-And the manager comes to...
-Shut up.

You thought you had friends?

You have no friends.

All you have staring you in the face
is a long life in a very dark place.

Felon in possession of a weapon,

attempted murder of
a federal officer,

probation violation.

And the list goes on.

You're looking at at least
ten years behind bars

unless you tell
me what they want.

I'm telling you,
I don't know them.

Bullshit!

-That's your name.
-So?

-You're a part of their plan.
-No.

And if you don't
tell me what it is,

I'm gonna bury you in the desert
you just tried to run across.

What?

You tried to kill four federal agents.
Don't make it worse on yourself.

-I don't know what you're talking a...
-Tell me!

-I don't know.
-Durko! Volchek!

I don't know them!

Are there two Gallaghers?
Did we get the wrong one?

If it's not him, we don't
have any other connections.

Is he a patsy? He's working
for them and doesn't know it?

Are you sure you
got the right name?

What?

In the dance hall. Are you sure that
Gallagher was the name that you saw?

Yeah, I know what I saw.

You said yourself you didn't get
a good look, so it might not be.

We can't be working off a guess.

That. That's the name
I saw. All right?

Fucking Gallagher.
Gallagher! Right there.

Everybody calm down.

Look, all I know is what I
saw in the interview room,

and we don't have
the right Gallagher.

Which means there's another
Gallagher connection out there.

We just haven't found it yet.

But we will.

'Cause we dig.

And we dig, and we dig, and if we
don't strike gold, we keep digging.

That's what we
do. We stay on it.

Okay?

-Okay?
-Okay.

-Yeah.
-Yeah.

All right. Let's keep digging.

You all right?

No. Not really.

I mean, we're risking
our necks out there.

Drew is dead.

And here we are, just
chasing our fucking tails.

Not one inch closer to Volchek,
and I just... I don't...

I don't know, man.

Okay. How did you...

How did I, a DEA agent, acquire
prescription medication?

Thank you.

Mm-hmm.

Get your head better.

'Cause out in the desert, you were
acting like you had a death wish.

And I need you.

Sir?

I still think the name
Gallagher is our best clue.

Yes, sir.

We need to expand our search. Are
we limiting ourselves to California?

Could Volchek be planning
to hit somewhere else?

I do think transport of radioactive
material would be limited.

I mean, moving it intrastate
would be high-risk.

Is Gallagher the name of a city? A
building? A town hall? A public center?

Yeah. On it.

Special Agent Bell.

Come up with your own leads

before criticizing the work
of others on this team.

Are we clear?

Yes, sir.

Andrej. Danill. Radoslav. Vadim.

As you know,

I planned to pick up the
Consul General of Belarus.

And show him that he
is not untouchable.

The best way to target a victim

is to hit him during his
normal everyday routine.

There is regularity
in a routine.

But also...

there is death in it.

I watched Astapov, yesterday.

He did everything
as he normally does.

Regularity.

Routine.

But he deviated
from one usual task.

I was wondering how Astapov
knew exactly where I was.

He found me in a parking
garage following a meeting.

That was no regular
routine of mine.

The only way he could know
where I was on that day

was if someone in this room

betrayed me.

So... I told each of you where I
was going to snatch up Astapov.

To you...

I said we would pick
him up at the park.

To you, outside the Consulate.

To you, the restaurant.

And to you...

I told...

the bakery.

The only place where he
deviated from his routine.

The only place

where he decided not to go.

This proves nothing.

-Hand me your phone.
-No.

Please.

I have no tolerance
for disloyalty.

Find a place for Danill
where no one will find him.

Your delivery has arrived.

Open the doors.

You wouldn't abuse the
new medication I gave you.

It's nothing like
that. I'll be fine.

The name Gallagher's
been a bust.

We need to stop chasing our
tails and find a new direction.

There was a stolen Border Patrol vehicle.
Got dumped after the port shoot-out.

Yeah. It's in the way back. Wasn't
a Border Patrol vehicle though.

I know you have ambition
like your father.

The Bureau could use good agents, and
I see in you a very bright future.

My nephew Danill he
has gone missing.

Can you tell me where he is?