All language subtitles for Person Of Interest S03e13 4C

FINCH: 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'll never find us,

but victim or perpetrator,
if your number's up, we'll find you.

(ELECTRONIC CHATTER)

(CELL PHONE VIBRATING)

WOMAN (ON PA): Your attention, please.

Flight 763 to Istanbul
has been oversold.

Passengers who do not yet
have a seat assignment

should check with the agent
at Gate 39.

I'm so sorry, Mr. Wiley,
we've had to bump you.

I can get you on the next non-stop
to Istanbul tomorrow morning.

But I'm told there's a problem
with the server.

- How many bags did you check?
- No baggage.

Oh, here we go.
It looks like the system's back up.

I see your previous reservation
was for a one-way ticket.

Would you like to purchase
the return leg now?

I'm not sure when I'll be back.

You're in luck.

A seat just opened up on a flight
with a stopover in Rome.

- And it's first class.
- Done.

- Gate 33, seat 1 D. Enjoy your flight.
- Thank you.

Mr. Wiley, we have some newlyweds
on their honeymoon

who would really love
to sit together.

- Would you mind changing seats?
- Sure... Holly.

I'll show you to your new seat.
Right here.

I'll be the attendant in First Class.

Is there anything
I can get for you right now?

- Something to drink?
- No, I'm fine, thanks.

MAN: No.

No, I told Jerry to walk away.

Yeah, well, sometimes, you got
to leave the money on the table.

You make them think
you don't need it.

Such a gentlemen, thank you.

Hey, that's my Tumi
that you're sliding over.

Try not to smash it.

Right, basic negotiation tactics.

Used to be, people dressed up to fly.

Gentlemen required
to wear a jacket and tie.

Not that a man
needs to wear a suit but...

Charge!

Holly? On second thought,
scotch rocks would be great.

No problem.

Don't worry about that.

Of course,
Jerry's gonna listen to me.

Because Jerry always listens to me.

MAN (ON RADIO):
A victory for the FBI today

as they busted a major online
drug market.

(DOWN-TEMPO MUSIC PLAYING)

Sir, the forward door
has been closed.

You'll need to turn off your phone.

One sec.
Listen, sweetheart...

...if you ever bother
to pick up a scientific journal,

you'd know that all this electronic
interference stuff

is really just a bunch of BS.

So why don't you hop yourself
back up there

and tell them that we can go
while I take my call?

Okay.

MAN: Sorry, Frank,
some idiot stewardess.

Mind giving me a hand here, Carlos?

Sorry, got my hands full with coach.
You wanted first, remember?

Excuse me, sir...

Oh.

Looks like he talked himself out.
Bet he could use a blanket.

MAN: Ladies and gentlemen,
we have reached 10,000 feet.

It is now safe to use
all approved electronic devices.

(CELL PHONE VIBRATING)

MAN: Got to hit the head.

Did you need something, Mr. Wiley?

Just stretching my legs.

(THUD)

(EXHALES)

Guy's been in there a while.
Might wanna try the one in back.

- Yes?
- REESE: Finch?

Mr. Reese, where are you?
And why are you calling over VoIP?

You tell me.
You're the one who put me here.

- We can't keep doing this, Finch.
- Put you where? Doing what?

Overbooking my flight,
changing my seat.

Are you on a plane?

With two federal marshals
and their transport.

I told you.
No more missions, no more numbers.

While I don't agree
with your decision to leave,

I certainly respect it.

I did not send you on a mission,
Mr. Reese.

Then who put me on this flight?

(INDISTINCT RADIO CHATTER)

(ELECTRONIC CHATTER)

An incapacitated marshal
with a missing weapon?

That definitely does not look good,
Mr. Reese.

It definitely doesn't look like
a coincidence either.

You're telling me
you didn't get a number?

I didn't. Believe me
when I tell you, Mr. Reese,

I did not put you
in your current predicament.

- Why else would I be on this plane?
- I can only hazard a guess.

You're there
because The Machine put you there.

Guess your machine didn't get
my letter of resignation, Harold.

Give it a message for me, will you?
I quit.

Message received, Mr. Reese.

But what do you plan to do about the
unconscious marshal in the lavatory?

That's not my problem.

A loose firearm in a plane
full of civilians most certainly is.

You said there were two marshals.
Where's the second?

Keeping an eye on their transport.

Guy's sitting in 4C,
the same seat The Machine sent me.

It appears there may be an accessory
on that flight,

one who is now armed.
I don't suppose you are too?

Even if I were, I wouldn't risk

firing a weapon
on a commercial flight.

Bullet hits a window,
plane will depressurize in seconds.

So how do you plan
to control the situation?

I don't.
Because I'm not accepting the mission.

I'll tell the marshal
what happened to his co-worker.

Whatever happens next is his problem,
not mine.

(BOY MIMICKING GUNFIRE)

- Move it, buddy.
- Titus, come here.

(REESE CLEARS THROAT)

I don't know who this guy is you're
transporting or what he's done...

Hey, what I've allegedly clone.

Sir, I'm gonna have to ask you to
refrain from engaging with this man.

I'm sorry.
He engaged with me.

No, I corrected you.
There's a difference.

Your partner's out cold
in the forward latrine

and his weapon's missing.

Someone may be trying to help
your transport here escape.

What's with the conspiracy theories,
Mr. Dark and Stormy?

I am not trying to escape.

Okay, as much as I love sucking
in this re-circulated MRSA air,

- there is nothing I...
- Quiet.

Look, I don't know who you are
or if you're trying to pull something

but I know this isn't your business.

I need you to get your ass up
and return to your seat, immediately.

You're right.

This isn't any of my business.

Have a nice day, Marshal.

(GROANING)

Got a message for you, canalla.
Raphael sends his regards.

(MAN YELLS)
(GRUNTS)

Agh! He just stabbed me.
(GROANING)

Is he...?

Drugged. He'll live.
Here.

"Lanceros."

HOLLY: Everything all right here?

REESE: Oh, must've mixed
his anxiety meds with his booze.

Probably dehydrated.

- He'll sleep it off.
- And the marshal is dehydrated too?

Hard for some people to stay awake
on a red-eye.

Wish I had that problem.

- Do you have any more blankets?
- Sure.

And a couple of whiskeys, neat.

Sure, just throw him over there.

Hey, don't take this the wrong way
but who the hell are you?

A concerned frequent flyer.

Here you go.

Thank you, Holly.

- I owe you an apology.
- Owen. Owen Matthews.

- You weren't trying to escape.
- What tipped you off?

Was it my word
or the violent psychopath

who stabbed me with a syringe?

It's a coagulant,
to trigger a pulmonary embolism.

He wanted to make your death
look like deep vein thrombosis.

Natural causes.
He's a pro.

You seem really sure of that.

That's what I would've done
on a plane anyway.

Here, drink these.
It'll thin out your blood.

I don't drink hard alcohol
only red wine and in moderation.

We've got eight hours
before we land this bird.

Someone wants to make sure you
don't make it off this plane alive.

So you might as well
have yourself a couple of drinks.

(CELL PHONE RINGS)
Yes, Mr. Reese?

Owen Matthews was the intended victim.
I sent you a picture.

Perp's got a tattoo. He's a Lancero,
Colombian paramilitary.

Kind of like our rangers,

only some of them wind up
on the cartel payroll.

Nothing on the guy's cell
identifies his boss.

But I'm sure you'll find out.

The two marshals on board your flight

helped bust an online market
in illegal substances,

called the "Black Market Bazaar."

Think of it as eBay for narcotics
on the Darknet.

Customers could get anything
from a dime bag of marijuana

to a kilogram of heroin delivered
to their door within 24 hours.

Oh, how does everybody
stay out of jail?

The Black Market Bazaar
only accepts Bitcoins,

a digital crypto-currency.

The site was developed
by an unknown mastermind

who calls himself "The Sphinx."

He's still at large and wanted
by every agency

from the DEA to INTERPOL.

Transport must know something.

Owen works for the company
that hosted the site.

It would appear that his job
has placed him in grave danger.

(OWEN HUMMING)

Why were those two marshals
transporting you?

Funny story.

So I'm sitting at my kitchen table
this morning,

having my breakfast, toast, dry.
Butter's bad for your heart.

Almost as bad as a cartel hit man.

Which is no doubt related
to Marshals Crockett and Tubbs

infiltrating my kitchen
to detain me as a critical witness

in this black market case.

Five hours later,
I'm on a flight to Europe

with Mr. Blanket Cover-Up

to testify in some sort
of international court.

So, what do you know
about the Black Market Bazaar?

The company I work for
hosts the site.

But I'm just a programmer.
No bonuses, no benefits.

They don't even pay for my flu shot.
I'm a nobody.

A trained killer
doesn't just go after a nobody.

You better hope he doesn't have
any friends on this flight.

I'm telling you,
they got the wrong guy.

Whatever's going on here,
I'm irrelevant.

(ELECTRONIC CHATTER)

You wanted to see me?
(GASPS)

Would it be too much to ask you
to snap a twig or...

Not my thing.
We get a new number?

No, but Mr. Reese did.

Owen Matthews.
He's on a plane with him now.

On a plane with a number?
You engineer that, Harold?

I assure you,
I had nothing to do

with his claustrophobic circumstance,
Ms. Shaw,

which presents us
another troubling situation.

(WHIMPERING)

What's going on?

You need me to do something
you don't want me to do.

I need you to visit
your former colleagues.

The Activity?

The people that want me dead.

(SCOFFS) Mind if I ask why?

I fear the number that Mr. Reese
received is relevant.

There's a relevant number
on the plane?

So what's the other side
gonna do about it?

That's exactly what I want to know,
Ms. Shaw.

Perhaps then we can figure out
why The Machine put John there.

(ELECTRONIC CHATTER)

(CELL PHONE RINGING)
Mr. Reese?

Any progress on ID'ing our Colombian
hit man's employer?

I'm afraid not.
I had hoped to hear from Ms. Shaw.

I sent her to visit her former
colleagues with the ISA.

The ISA?
Why?

- It was regarding Owen Matthews.
- Owen Matthews is a relevant number.

- How long have you known?
- I don't know anything for sure.

I just couldn't figure out
why they would consider

a mid-level programmer relevant,
so I sent Ms. Shaw to investigate.

And you didn't tell me anything.
Just like your machine, Finch.

You have all the information,
you just won't share it.

Why are you relevant
to National Security, Owen?

Would you hit your call button?
I really want some almonds.

You're not a nobody.
You're wearing a stun belt.

And a stun belt has a remote.
Hand it over.

Okay, but I'm not kidding
about those almonds though.

At high altitudes, my blood sugar
drops to dangerously low levels...

(ELECTRICITY CRACKLING)
(MUFFLED SCREAMING)

(GROANING)

Why are you relevant
to National Security, Owen?

Funny story, I may have
downplayed my whole role

in the black market thing before.

I might be a little more
than just a programmer.

- Tell me about it.
- I don't like to brag.

No, no, no.
You seem like an angry guy.

Do you wanna talk about that?

I feel like you wanna talk
about that.

Okay, okay, okay.
Fine.

The Black Market Bazaar.
I built it, okay?

I'm a really good designer and the
Sphinx asked for me personally.

He even brought me this coffee
that is so hard to...

- Hold on, hold on.
- You've seen the Sphinx?

Yeah. Smart guy.
Little misunderstood,

- but he has a vision.
- Enlighten me.

He started the site because the
war on drugs was already lost.

Cartels, corner boys, turf wars...

The site just cuts out
the middle man.

- For a price.
- A small transaction fee.

No harm, no foul
and people stop killing each other.

Ever occur to you that the Sphinx
might be the one who wants you dead?

What? No, we're pals.
Why would he wanna kill me?

Because you, my friend, might be
the only one who can identify him.

(CELL PHONE BUZZING)

- Yeah?
- I've identified your hit man's boss.

Raphael Hernandez, cartel kingpin

and one of the Black Market Bazaar's
largest suppliers.

I still can't find Raphael's
connection to Owen.

No need.
Owen built the entire site.

He can identify the Sphinx.

Which means he could also identify
all the Sphinx's accounts.

And if Owen testifies,
he could jeopardize

Raphael's business as well.

None of which explains why
he's relevant to National Security.

Let Shaw worry about that.

Right now,
you and I need to find out

if this Colombian hit man
has a partner in crime.

Hey, where you going?
The ride's getting pretty bumpy.

They're gonna turn the seat belt sign
on any second.

Sorry, Owen. Got to let you
fly solo for a little while.

- But I'm like a sitting duck.
- That's the idea.

Hello, Holly.

Could I get a glass of wine
for our friend in the back?

- He's afraid of flying.
- Yes, of course.

- Is everything okay?
- Fine.

It's just, the marshals.
One of them's out cold,

the other one
hasn't come out of the lav.

And you look like
a nice enough guy, but...

John Wilkinson, Department of
International Homeland Security.

International Home...?
What?

- Do I need to update the captain?
- Oh, no, no, no, you can't.

Right now,
everyone on this plane is a suspect

- and I need your help.
- Help with what?

Keeping everyone calm,
preferably asleep.

Lights out, lots of decaf.

Okay, I can do that.
Anything else?

Keep an eye on the suspect.

If he gets up, just hit this button.
It'll summon me.

MAN: Ladies and gentlemen,

the captain has turned on
the fasten seat belt sign.

Everyone should return to their seats

and remain seated
with their seat belts fastened.

(MAN AND WOMAN SPEAKING
FOREIGN LANGUAGE)

We control the price of X,
not the Sphinx.

(YELLS)
(GROANING)

Huh?

Guess the honeymoon's over.

Oops.

(INDISTINCT RADIO CHATTER)

- We were just closing.
- SHAW: Of course, you were.

Because who the hell uses
a travel agency anymore?

I must've gotten 100 itineraries
from this place,

but I never actually
thought it existed.

The Activity bothers to keep
a storefront with posters

and dead plants.
Charming.

I'm afraid I don't know
what you're talking about...

Oh, you're right to be afraid.

Because I've done
a little reverse engineering

since Catalyst tried to kill me.

Made a list, checked it twice.
Who's naughty? Who's nice?

And you definitely
haven't played nice.

(GULPS)

It's nice to meet you
in person, Foster.

I'd introduce myself
but you already know my name.

Say it.
I'll wait.

- Shaw.
- Good.

And my partner?

Cole.

And you're the facilitating
son of a bitch

who sent us to New York from Berlin.

You booked the reservations

but I'm the only one
who made it back alive.

I don't know
what you're talking about.

What I'm talking about
is you're the one person who knows

where every ISA team is dispatched.

You book their travel.
You sent a team of six after us

and the next trip you booked
had us coming home in a casket.

Except I'm still here.

So, Mr. Facilitator,

when was the last time
you were out from behind the desk?

The way I see it,
you owe me a favor

and I'm calling it in.

Owen Matthews is on a flight
to Rome right now.

Why is this man relevant
to National Security?

You play dumb with me one more time,
I'm gonna make you eat this tie.

Except right before you digest it

I'm gonna pull it back out and
we're gonna do this all over again.

I never know what the target's done,

I just know
that they sent an operative.

- Give me a number.
- Indigo Six Alpha.

(THUMPS)

Heard a ruckus.
Everything okay?

Newlyweds decided
to join the mile-high club.

First Class problem.
This one's all you.

Let me help you.
Let's get you patched up.

I should notify the pilot.
What if those people wake up?

They won't.

I borrowed some sleeping pills
from the old lady sitting next to me.

(CELL PHONE VIBRATING)
Look, I have to take this.

Can you keep an eye on Owen for me?

Colombians aren't the only ones
who want Owen dead.

A couple of ex-Mossad agents
aren't too fond of him either.

I don't suppose they told you why.

Something about the price of ecstasy
and then they stuck a fork in me.

- A fork?
- Any idea why they went after Owen?

Israeli criminals control
Europe's MDMA trade.

I can't imagine
that they would welcome competition

from an online drug market.

Starting to wonder who on this plane
doesn't want Owen dead.

I'm afraid Ms. Shaw
has more bad news.

(MUFFLED YELLING, THUMPING)

ISA has an operative on the flight,
Indigo Six Alpha.

You ask your contact what that means?

Didn't have to.
I was Indigo Five Alpha.

That guy has my old job
and he's there to kill Owen.

You get the operative's description?

Tall, dark, badass in a suit.
Sound familiar?

Got to go.

(GRUNTS) Oh, God.

(MUFFLED YELLING)

Excuse me.

Have a seat.

(GASPING) Whoa.

I need the zip ties
you keep for unruly passengers,

a blanket for this guy

- and a shot of whiskey.
- For who?

Put it in his sippy cup.
One finger.

- I have to go to the bathroom.
- Why don't we go find your mommy?

Owen?

(ELECTRONIC CHATTER)

The captain says we can't divert.
There's nowhere to land.

- Breathe, Holly.
- I can't.

Then drink.

(SLURPS, GROANS)

I could've been a teacher.

But, no, I wanted to see the world,
meet interesting people.

There's plenty of interesting people
on this plane.

All trying to kill each other.

Which I get because you know
what this job has taught me?

- That people are horrible.
- I know what you mean.

Even the pilots call me
"Sweetheart, Doll Face."

And the other flight attendants?

Carlos is a selfish idiot who doesn't
know what the hell he's doing.

Whatever happened to people
helping other people?

Holly, I hate to tell you this.

You're good at your job.

That's so nice of you.
Thank you for that.

- And for saving me from that maniac.
- He was just trying to kill Owen.

Where is Owen?
How did he disappear?

(OWEN SNEEZES) He didn't.

Hey, guys. I wasn't trying
to escape or anything.

I was actually trying to sleep
in my seat.

But I got this terrible...
Oh, a pinched nerve in my lower back.

It must be sciatica or something.

It was like someone
was stabbing me in the back.

You can probably relate to...
(GRUNTS)

Sorry, sometimes it's just faster.

- Why does everyone want him dead?
- He's relevant to National Security.

Right, just like you work

for the International Department
of Homeland Security.

- What do you really do?
- Nothing. I quit my job.

- Didn't like your boss?
- I didn't like my boss's boss.

Just take us to the cargo hold
and we won't cause any more problems.

FINCH: Good evening, Ms. Shaw.

Have you been able to determine
why the ISA wants Owen Matthews dead?

Working on it. Meeting up
with an old friend for coffee.

(GROANING)

Oh, damn it.

Hey, going through other people's stuff?
That's not cool.

- What are you looking for?
- A safety razor, maybe. Hair spray.

Dude, your hair looks fine.

That salt and pepper thing's
like catnip to soccer moms.

Go au naturel.

REESE: Took care of the ISA operative.

Still not sure
if The Machine sent me

or if this guy's worth saving.

You're scheduled to land
in two hours.

Ms. Shaw is still in the process
of finding out

why ISA wants Owen dead.

ISA, Colombians, Israelis,

all want the head
of a lowly website designer...

...instead of a...
mastermind.

See, I hate it when you look at me
like that. It's not polite.

You didn't just build the site.

You know how it works,
where the money's at.

Okay, look,
I'm not a moron, all right?

I socked away a few funds,
diverted some accounts.

Something else
you wanna tell me, Owen?

Okay, okay. Fine, fine.
Don't tase me, bro.

I didn't just build the site.

I'm the guy-

You're the Sphinx.

I created a business model
from my bedroom

that revolutionized
an international market

and cut violence in the drug trade
by half. You're welcome.

Yeah, people are just lining up
to thank you.

It's okay.
I have a plan.

Okay, I have 100 million bucks
in Bitcoins.

You get me off this plane
and past INTERPOL in one piece,

I'll split it with you.
Good deal, right?

You think you're a mastermind.

Hey, that's the media's word,
not mine.

You computer guys, you build
something you can't control,

and when it backfires,
you won't accept responsibility.

What are we talking about here?

Have you really made anything better?

Does it look like,
you've stopped the violence?

Okay, are we still talking about me?

Because it seems like,
you're mad at somebody else.

(APPROACHING FOOTSTEPS)

(NECK CRACKING)

I thought you got rid
of that walking steroid.

Guess not.

Dizzy?
Tongue a little itchy?

Shaw.

You once taught me that an operative
should always wet their lips

and wait for symptoms
before drinking anything.

Scopolamine.

Tachycardia will be setting in shortly.
Fatigue, amnesia...

I know what the drug does.

You're conscious but you've been
rendered completely docile.

- I'm on a job right now.
- You were.

Guy with the glasses
and the laptop, right?

That was the number
you were supposed to kill tonight?

I trained you well.
Too well.

I always liked you, Hersh.
Even after you killed me.

You put an ISA operative
on a flight to kill this guy.

Why?

He built the biggest narcotics
marketplace on the Darknet.

Billion dollars in sales.

You can't stop the drug trade
but you can tax it.

Tax it?
Since when?

We were on to the Sphinx a year ago.

But when it comes
to funding our operation,

the black budget only goes so far.
So we took 30 percent off the top.

So why take him out now?

Nobody asks
how we keep the country safe.

But they'll start
if that kid goes public.

National Security risk.

And that flight
is a perfect window of opportunity.

Well, I think you might have
some competition on the plane.

Shaw, your new employers...

- Mm-hm?
- ...are they treating you okay?

They haven't tried to kill me yet.

I could've killed you tonight, Hersh,
and I didn't.

Too bad you won't remember
any of this.

(GROANING)

OWEN: Whoa!

(GRUNTING)

Not the face!

(SCREAMING)

Fore.

Nice shot.

Mr. Reese,
it seems that the ISA

took a mutually beneficial
financial interest

in the Black Market Bazaar

which they could ill afford
to have come out.

Still doesn't explain why
The Machine put me on this plane.

I didn't program The Machine

to detect national embarrassments,
Mr. Reese.

I designed it to prevent
a national tragedy.

You're saying they missed something?

They aren't the only ones
who want Owen dead.

Raphael Hernandez once blew up an
entire floor of a hotel in Medellin

to prevent a witness from testifying.

Well, I already took out
Raphael's hit man.

I've accessed his e-mail.

Raphael has ordered his team
to take out Owen

by any means necessary,

even if it means
taking down the plane.

Well, how many hit squad members
were on that e-mail?

Two.
Colombian paramilitary.

There's another Lancero on board.

But I checked the manifest,
every passenger.

He's not a passenger, Finch.

Good evening, Captain.

(GUNSHOT)
(SCREAMING)

(INDISTINCT RADIO CHATTER)

(ELECTRONIC CHATTER)

He's lost a lot of blood.

If we don't get him to the hospital
in the next hour, he's a goner.

I heard something,
saw Carlos enter the cockpit.

It's locked.
No response from the intercom.

The plane's banking.
We're losing altitude.

And I can't contact the tower.

Knew there was something off
about that guy.

It's because
he's not a flight attendant.

He's a professional assassin,
paratrooper.

- He's taking us down.
- I need you to get me in there now.

He's overridden the code.

The situation's critical, Finch.
Can you help us?

I'm trying to get
into the flight management system

through the plane's satellite link.

- Where is Owen?
- Stashed in the cargo hold.

I'm gonna need to borrow this.

Mr. Reese, I've gotten into the FMS.

It appears that he's disabled
the autopilot.

I can't seem to override
the manual operator.

You ever flown a plane
this size before?

Heavens no, props only.
This is a commercial jumbo jet.

Somebody's gonna have
to stick the landing.

Putting you on speaker.

Excuse me.
Can I have some water, please?

Mr. Reese?

Ladies and gentlemen,
we're experiencing a bit of turbulence.

The captain asks that
everyone remain seated at this time.

Make sure your tray tables are up
and all seat belts are fastened.

Oh, my God!
What's happening?

(PEOPLE WHIMPERING NERVOUSLY)

(ALARM BUZZING)

- Mr. Reese, who's flying the plane?
- Need a little help, Finch.

(GRUNTING OVER TRANSMITTER)

Oh, dear.

- Finch, we're going down.
- Hold on tight, Mr. Reese.

Stick and rudder, stick and rudder.

Small corrections.
Wings level.

Airspeed and altitude.

Take us home, Finch.

Keep it level.
Keep it level.

I'm coming in too hot.
I'm gonna belong.

There might be a bounce.

(PASSENGERS CHEERING)

You hear that, Finch?

That's for you.
Yeah, you just stuck this bird.

Thank you, Mr. Reese.
How about Owen?

The only relevant number
on this plane is 130 people.

Grazie. Arrivederci

- So what is it you really do again?
- I help people.

You wanna help me get a drink?

(OWEN GRUNTS)

Man, do you think you could've
stuffed me into a case that breathed?

Next time, just throw a garbage bag
over my head

- and stick me in a casket.
- Here.

Go to this address.

Stay there until you hear
from a man named Harold.

Harold?
The guy on the phone?

You're out of business.
Stay off the grid.

Do not reach out
to anyone you once knew.

Well, what if I wanna
send you something,

repay you for all you've done?

I'm not in it for the money, Owen.

You almost say that like it's your job,
which would be insane.

Well, whatever you're in it for,
good on you, man.

I appreciate you saving my neck.

- Thanks for meeting me.
- Thanks for the drink.

Well, I hope you get a better crew
to work with on your return flight.

Give me a call
if you're ever back in the city.

- Ciao.
- Ciao.

- She seems nice.
- You track me down, Harold?

Just flew in to get Owen situated
with a new identity and destination.

- Is that it?
- Prego.

Grazie.

Mr. Reese, I understand
your frustration

with the opacity of The Machine.

But there's a reason
I chose to make it that way.

The Machine only gives us numbers

because I would always rather

that a human element remain

in determining something
so critical as someone's fate.

We have free will.

And with that comes
great responsibility...

...and sometimes great loss.

I miss her dearly, too.

(CLEARS THROAT)

- When are you leaving?
- Soon.

I thought I would go see this exhibit

at the Giorgio DE Chirico
house museum.

An artist that Grace
was very fond of.

You're welcome to join me.

I'm not sure I can, Finch.

While I'm in Italy, I thought
I'd get fitted for a new suit.

Oh, of course. We should call
my atelier in the via Palestro.

See if Gianni could fit you in after lunch.
He's the best.

I thought maybe,
I could hitch a ride back with you.

I'm not quite ready
to fly commercial yet, so...

But I need to get back to work.

Certainly, Mr. Reese.

I know the pilot.

I think we could delay that flight.

(English US - SDH)