All language subtitles for Reacher.S04E02.XviD-AFG[EZTVx.to]

Previously on Reacher...

No one can help me now.

This is Detective Tamara Green.

We got a call some other people

- want to ask you some questions.
- What is it the government's

so worried she might have given me?

- What are you looking for?
- The flash drive.

Who's your boss?

I'm Lila.

She promised to do all she could
to find my father, and she did.

Someone important.

Congressman John Sampson.

You're gonna blackmail him
with information

Anna stole for you from the Pentagon.

Jacob. How'd your nephew take the news?

I didn't track him down yet.

Seems your sister may have
stolen some confidential data...

Where are you going?

I want to find out all I can
about John Sampson.

Okay.

- Let's go.
- You're coming?

I'm good at not letting people

get away with things.

Take him.

Shoot.

Welcome to the party.

How long was I out?

No idea.

You were here when we woke up
a couple hours ago.

They shot me with a tranquilizer dart.

Twice.

How'd they get you?

Hey.

Big Brother's watching.

Probably listening, too.

They already know how you got here.

No harm in telling me.

I got home,
soon as I put my gun in my safe.

Someone must have been
hiding in my house.

Smelled some chloroform.

Here I am.

I was walking to the bus stop
near my house

to meet up with you in New York,

felt a sting in my chest,

looked down and there was a dart.

Next thing I know, I'm looking at

leaves on trees...

Then I wake up here.

I'm the only one who's tied down.

Yeah. Have you seen yourself?

Neither of us got a look at them.

Have any idea who grabbed us?

Maybe the guys
who took a run at you yesterday?

They told you that?

Didn't need to.

They didn't Mirandize us,
cite the Patriot Act

or gin up any charges.

Means they don't have the power to arrest.

But they had no problem
drugging, kidnapping

and locking us up
in what I can only imagine

is a basement, considering the smell
and lack of natural light.

What federal agency
best fits that description?

I thought the CIA wasn't supposed
to operate on U.S. soil.

This shit's crazy.
'Cause abducting some drifter

is one thing... no offense...
but snatching up cops?

So what does it all mean?

Means we're fucked.

- What's that?
- A stimulant. To clear your head.

It's clear.

I just do what they tell me.

They tell you to get that needle
jammed in your eye?

'Cause that's what's gonna happen,
you try and stick me with that.

Sounds like he's plenty awake.

Forget the shot, Doc.

How's your neck?

How's your head?

Hear that tranq hangovers can be a bitch.

Good luck trying to get those on me.

They're going on.

Question is are they going on
the easy way or the hard way?

We upped the dose.

So, you want to be a hard-ass

or you want to get this over with,
Mr. Reacher?

Just Reacher.

Jack Reacher. No middle name.

Parents couldn't be bothered?

What sort of given name is Jack?
Jack's a nickname.

Why don't you tell me your names
and we can compare.

Okay.

You're Wynken,

he's Blynken, that's Nod.

From the Dutch lullaby.

You call us that
because we put you to sleep?

I call you that because,
before I leave this room,

I'm gonna put all of you to sleep.

Our techs combed through the data,
and the only thing that's on there

is some student's mediocre sketches.

Why?

Maybe he doesn't apply himself.

Why do you have his jump drive?

- I needed it.
- For what?

See, I think you needed it
to make a copy of the drive you got

from Anna Merrick
before she killed herself on the train.

Where is that thumb drive?

I have no idea what you're talking about.

You're the only one
that came into contact with her,

and the drive was not on her person.

Do you think we're stupid?

Yes.

Who was the woman in the park?

You know, the one that you let
open the drive and look at the contents?

Where is she?

Let me guess.

You spent most of your resources on me
'cause you thought

I'd be the problem and she'd be easy.

Then, after I was drugged,
you went back for her but she was gone.

Gave one of your junior officers the slip.

You the one that was supposed
to be looking after her, Blynken?

You look like the kind of jackass
who would get caught

with his pants down and thumb up his ass.

How about I put my foot up your ass?

Try it.

Not now.

Okay, we get it.

You're a tough guy.

We read your jacket.

But what about your friends out there?

They're not my friends.

I just met 'em today.

You and Officer Merrick
were running around with the drive

and we saw you conversing with
Detective Green before we detained you.

Now, we can only assume

that they are coconspirators.

We wanted to talk to you first
because we thought

you might want to play ball
and spare them some pain,

but apparently you don't give a shit
what happens to them.

No one knows the three of you are here.

We are treating you
like enemy combatants on U.S. soil.

We can do whatever we want.

Now, you...

might be able to take it.

For a while.

But how do you think they'll hold up?

Get him out of here.
Bring me the woman.

Okay.

Okay what?

I'll answer your questions.

That's better.

So, why don't we try this again.

Where is the drive that Anna Merrick
gave to you on the train?

Told you.

It sounded like an all-out brawl
in there but now it's silent.

Shit.

Hello? Hello?

Holy shit.

We thought they were kicking your ass.

Where you going?

Did he just leave us?

- Hold that.
- All right.

Phone means what I think it means?

Company'll be here soon.

Maybe it's just a wrong number.

They're calling cell phones now.
More than one.

Means more than one guy's coming.

- You get their guns?
- There were none. Must be locked up.

They didn't think they needed
'em with you in cuffs.

They were wrong.

Okay. Try that.

Your wallets are on the table
in the other room.

Got it.

Jesus.

They'll leave a message.

We're running out of time!

Just a little more.

You're gonna have to squeeze through.

I-I think I'm stuck.

Go. Back down, back down.

Close the door.

Go, go, go!

There's more of 'em?

To the alley.

Get in!

I'm not CIA! My van has cats on it!

Go!

Who are you?

Russell Plum. Freelance journalist.

Hey, look out!

Shit!

I saw 'em bring you in on a gurney
yesterday, and you two

were carried in a few hours later.
I've been watching that building

- for weeks.
- Why?

Figured it was a CIA black site,
and I was right.

Saw you trying to escape, I came to help.

What the hell for?

For my story. We are gonna blow the lid
off what's going on in there.

What's going on in there?

- Answer the man.
- Me? I don't know.

Well, what the fuck was your
sister involved in that I got snatched

- by the goddamn CIA?
- I have no idea.

Anna worked for the Pentagon,
so whatever's on the jump drives

they're looking for
has to be military related.

We need to know for sure.

How are we gonna find out?

I have someone who can help.
Just got to get down to DC.

Down to D.C.?
Look out your window, man.

We are in D.C.

What is going on?

I'm investigating
the world's most secretive agency.

I use precaution.

Pen is mightier than the sword.

Depends on who's wielding the sword.

All I need is a pen. You'll see.

- What is all this?
- My research.

Been investigating the CIA for years.

- Because?
- Because they're involved

in all kinds of shady shit that
the public needs to know about.

They trained Manson, covered up Kennedy,

got me fired from The Washington Post.

Now I just have to prove all of it.

You wrote for the Post?

Post. Then the Examiner.
Then the Washington City Paper.

Then a few free periodicals.

None of 'em wanted the truth.

They're all beholden to their
corporate and political overlords.

Now I'm strictly Internet-based.

I give it directly to the people.

No filters.

Holy shit.

Hey, we're across the street
from the CIA building.

Stay away from the windows.

Are we safe here?

Probably.

They know we got away in a vehicle.

It's unlikely they'd look for us
on their own block.

Yeah, I circled around the back
and came in through the rear entrance.

Nobody knows we're here.
Hey, you want to watch 'em?

I hid cameras all over the roof.

Check this out.

That's you.

Most people who work for the CIA
don't know where the black sites are.

How do you know?

Well, I traced payments
for construction work

done on one of the exposed
overseas black sites

through a maze of shell companies.

Now, one of those shells

was connected to an LLC
that has no visible income

but somehow was able to purchase
that building across the street.

So...

I looked at a map...

and check this out.

It's over one of the old steam tunnels
that runs under Embassy Row.

There has to be an illegal
CIA spy op, right?

So, got a sweet off-the-books deal
for this loft

because the building is...

well, it's technically condemned.

Landlord's fighting it in court
but he's desperate for cash flow.

Set up shop and I started watching.

And then I see 'em

bringing in steel plating
and welding equipment.

I assume it was for cages.

Right? Did they lock you guys in cages?

Yeah. For a while.

I knew it.

I'm gonna blow the lid off this thing.

I'm gonna win my Pulitzer.

I'm gonna need your testimony.

No.

But... I rescued you.

You need to forget you ever met us.

You've stumbled into something
way bigger than you can handle.

- My story i...
- People already

died over this, Russell.
You don't want to be next.

Okay. What do we do now?

We?

I thought you were just gonna ride it out
till you get your pension.

I was drugged and taken
150 miles from my home.

I'm in this shit now.

Public transportation's risky
with the CIA looking for us.

My sister was on the train in Philly.

So her car's still got to be in her garage.

She lived near here.

They've probably
ransacked the place already.

Odds are it's safe to go.
Keep your heads on a swivel.

What are you gonna do?

Go look for John Sampson.

The congressman? What the hell
does he have to do with this?

That's what I'm gonna find out.

- These burners?
- Yeah.

Help yourself.

I've already memorized your numbers.

I'll text you mine.

Call me after you get the car.

What do you want me to do?

Start looking for a new place to live.

Man.

Step forward.

Is Representative Sampson in today?

Yes, he is. And you are?

A constituent.

I'm sorry, sir. His schedule is full.

May I take your name?

How about I just write him a note?

Of course.

Tell him I'll be at the food trucks
by the National Mall.

Someone was looking for the drive.

Your nephew?

Yeah, wish he'd call me back.

Starting to worry.

You know college kids.

I'd go days before calling my mom back.

There's the garage. I'll get the keys.

Hey, they're not here.

Forget the keys.

Where's the car?

I don't know.

Anna's Pentagon employee badge is here.

Under some mail. Old mail.

Like she hasn't used it in a few weeks.

Your sister must have left in a hurry.

Didn't even finish her meal.

Fuck.

Still warm.

Thank you.

Just returning the favor.

Major Reacher. Don't get up.

I'm Elspeth Sampson,
the congressman's wife.

This is our head of security, Springfield.

Smart move,
leaving your full name and rank

so we could look you up,
know who we're dealing with.

Otherwise we might not have come.

You said you were
one of John's constituents,

but records don't show
a North Carolina address.

Or any address.

Don't have one. I served
in North Carolina three times, though,

so I figured that was close enough.

I see.

And why did you choose to meet here?

Hadn't eaten since yesterday.

Why not?

'Cause I was drugged
and abducted by the CIA.

Then you should finish your meal.

Most scandals involve something
the wife doesn't know about.

Sending you was a statement.

John didn't send me.

I wanted to see for myself
if you were worth his time

or if this is just
some pathetic attempt at blackmail.

I don't want anything
from your husband except the truth.

A Pentagon clerk killed herself
in front of me, night before last.

With John's name on her lips?

- Basically.
- "Basically" doesn't cut it.

Why do you think my husband
has anything to do with this?

With respect, my questions concern matters

your husband probably
wouldn't share with you,

so even if I asked,
it's unlikely you'd know the answer.

John and I have no secrets.

Maybe.

Hotel, few blocks from here.

Congressman's speaking
at a dinner there tonight.

He's in his suite now, preparing.

He'll be expecting you.

You get five minutes of his time,
not one second more.

Can you give me a ride?

I could.

Yeah, that should hold him.

I'll hold on to his Glock.

You could use a weapon.

Your sister keep any guns in the house?

There's... the one.

But she...

Right. Sorry.

If that was the CIA,
they'd be calling this guy's cell.

Answer it. Pretend you're Anna.

Hello.

This is she.

No, he isn't.

I have no idea.
But if I hear from him, I'll tell him.

I really have to go.
I'm in the middle of something.

Thank you for calling.

That was one of Ben's football coaches.

He never showed for practice.

Snap.

Come in, Reacher. We need to talk.

Crackle. Pop.

Have a seat.

No, thanks. Where's Sampson?

You're in big trouble.

You told us Anna Merrick didn't
say anything to you on the subway

- the other night.
- She didn't.

Well, that's not what you wrote in the
note that you sent to the congressman.

You lied to federal investigators.

People go to prison for that.

- Not me.
- Why not?

You didn't identify yourselves.
You could've been anybody.

So, if we showed you some ID
you would have told us the truth?

Sure.

So... did she say John Sampson's name?

No.

Then where did you hear it?

From the CIA.

When did you talk to the CIA?

When they kidnapped me.

Why would the CIA kidnap you?

They think I know something.

Do you?

I know they're running
an illegal black site

out of an old building
on the corner of Hopkins and P.

Go see for yourselves.

The way I see it, the CIA
knows way more about this than I do.

If you have questions, ask them.

You want some advice?

No.

You were in the wrong place
at the wrong time

and you saw the wrong thing.

Something fucked-up
happened in front of you

and, as a former investigator,
you want to look into it

'cause your instincts
say that things don't smell right.

But this is not a case you're gonna close.

Walk away.

'Cause if you keep sticking your nose
where it doesn't belong,

you're gonna get it cut off.

- Yeah.
- Have any trouble?

Nothing we couldn't handle.
What about you?

Same. Need you to pick me up.

Can't. Anna's car isn't here.

Had Docherty put out a BOLO.

Federal agents could have
taken the car to search it.

Maybe.

But they tossed the house.

Probably could have searched
the car in the garage at the same time.

Maybe it was stolen.

That'd be quite a coincidence.

Coincidences are rare.

So what we're left with
is Anna drove her car to Philly.

Then, for some reason,

got out and got on the subway.

- Why would she do that?
- No idea.

Anything else?

Ben missed football practice.

He's on scholarship.

Knows if he screws up, he'll lose it.

I don't care what
that woman he met looks like,

he's not risking his full ride for any girl.

We've got to get back to Philly
and find him.

Public transpo's out.

We need a car.

I know someone
who has a car we can borrow.

You're back.

Anybody see you come in?

- I came in the back.
- Good.

'Cause two guys in suits
driving a sedan with government plates

just pulled into the black site.

Wouldn't be CIA with those plates,
but I don't know.

Could be FBI or NSA, but they like to use
generic state plates, not draw attention,

so my guess is that they're DCSA,
maybe DCIS.

Anyway, they kicked in the door,
they went inside.

They're not gonna find anything,
because the CIA bugged out

just before they got there.
There goes my story.

Place is completely cleared out now.

Wonder how they found out
about the black site.

- I told 'em.
- Why would you do that?

'Cause I want to give the CIA
something to worry about besides us.

- Us?
- I need your help.

I knew you'd come around.

Okay, but before we go,
I need a new burner.

For all I know, they grabbed the signal
off mine during my meeting with the feds.

- Could be trying to track it right now.
- Let me just get my shit.

And don't worry. I'm a valuable asset.
You'll see.

I can dig up any information you need.

You will not be sorry.

I'm gonna need your full background
for my article.

I mean, I can tell you're former military
by the way you carry yourself.

And your pointed questions
and limited answers,

well, makes me think
you're some kind of investigator.

Damn it.

Hey, you think they'll tell us anything?

I've got a badge,

Reacher looks like every bouncer
who ever roughed 'em up.

And you're an uncle worried about their
friend. Something for everyone.

They'll talk.

Wait, Ms. Merrick's dead?

How?

Suicide.

Has anyone heard anything from Ben?

Whatever it is, you're not ratting on him.

You're not being a bad friend, it-it's just...

he could be in some kind of danger
or something.

He's still with that girl.

You know that for a fact?

No, but she's thicc as fuck.

I'd skip practice for her too.

Hey, shut the fuck up, all right?

This is serious.

Look...

Ben wouldn't bail on practice
unless something was actually wrong.

Hey. Stop.

Got to get to class, man.

- You know something.
- No, I don't.

Get the fuck off my car.

Fuck. Aah! Fuck!

- Are you crazy? Chill.
- Get the fuck off me! Fuck you!

- He knows something.
- Yo, chill!

- Off of me!
- All right, easy, kid,

- we're just trying to locate your friend.
- Fuck you.

I'm not the one you want to talk to
like that because I'm the only thing

standing between you
and the white bull behind me.

So, take a breath...

and tell me your name.

Colin.

Okay, Colin.

Do you know where Ben is?

Come on, man, please.

Ben's mother is dead.

We're worried something bad
happened to him, too.

Okay.

Just, not in front of her.

Why the hell not?

Just... take a walk.

Fine. I'll be in the car.

Okay.

Talk.

All right.

I don't know where Ben is,
but I knew that girl, the one

he left with the other night.

She's an OnlyFans model.

What's OnlyFans?

Wait, he's serious.

It-it... It's like a-a porn site
for independent contractors.

You can talk to girls
and pay them for stuff.

So you paid her
to perform sex acts online?

- No.
- What, then?

Special videos.

Of her...

Of her feet.

If you were looking at her feet,
how do you know it's the same girl?

'Cause I've livestreamed with her,
I've talked to her,

I've-I've bought her socks and shit.

- Why'd you buy her socks?
- O-Okay, 'kay, okay. Okay, okay.

- You recognized her, right?
- Yeah.

Soon as she walked into the bar
and started talking to Ben.

All right, just...

send me her OnlyFans page.

Now.

Look, I-I shut up in there

because I-I didn't want people
to know what I do online.

It's... embarrassing.

Yeah.

What'd you learn?

That society's gone to shit.

Here she is.

Doesn't answer the phone
while I'm covering for her ass,

then she sends me work to do.

Not now. Been a long day.

- You found anything about the girl or not?
- Yeah. Real name's

Mary Ellen Daniels.

Online, she goes by "Smellen Degenerate."

Feet videos.

Apparently, dirty pics
are just a side hustle.

She also gets hands-on.
Busted for prostitution, twice.

High-end gal. Five ginos an hour.

No way Ben can afford that.
And he wouldn't do it anyway.

Do you have an address?

Feds took the suicide case
away from us, Green.

You're working with me,
not Deputy Dawg and HoboCop.

She's a missing person
in our jurisdiction.

I'm doing my job.

Now give me the fucking address.

Ms. Daniels.

Philly PD.

Exigent circumstances?

Yup.

My gosh.

Whoever did this weren't amateurs.

These cuts were designed
to cause maximize pain and suffering

while keeping her alive.

They took their time.

Saved the kill cut for last.

So they enjoyed themselves.

The guys who came after me
and Lila Hoth were skilled with knives.

This could have been them.

M.E. needs to take a look at the knife
the guy that took a run at me used,

see if it matches these wounds.

Okay. Where is it?

In a coal bin in the basement

of the main branch
of the Philly Public Library.

Next to the guy's body.

You said they both got away.

- I lied.
- I don't like that.

We work together, we share information.
You should have told me yesterday.

You didn't need to know yesterday.
Now you do.

Besides, it was self-defense.

I'll call it in to the anonymous tip line.

Techs can check his prints against
whatever they find in this apartment.

You sure it was self-defense?

Same way it was self-defense
when I took out those CIA guys

and saved your ass.

You okay?

I...

grew up in a small town.

I liked it there.

The pace.

The people.

And I became a cop, like my Dad...

to protect that town.

But, honestly,
wearing a badge in Mayfield,

It doesn't ask very much.

Breaking up teenagers
drinking behind the high school.

Letting 'em set off ladyfingers
on the Fourth of July,

but take their M-80s.

I have never had to draw my gun,

much less see anything
like what's in that room.

No shame in that.

We'll drop you off somewhere

and you can call a friend to pick you up,
take you back to Jersey.

People who sliced up that girl
have my nephew.

I don't care if it costs me my life,
I am gonna get him back

and I am gonna figure out what the fuck
drove my sister to do what she did.

And then I'm gonna find
who did all this...

and make 'em pay.

Then we're on the same page.

You know, some might think
his nephew did this.

He meets a woman,

goes home with her,

she doesn't want to go all the way...

says he got a small dick, whatever...

he gets pissed, next thing you know
he's carving her up.

He runs, calls Mommy and confesses,

she can't take knowing
her sweet boy's a killer,

so she feeds herself a bullet.

In this theory, Anna Merrick
gets a confessional call from Ben,

so she takes her gun,
puts on a winter coat in summer,

drives hours from home, parks the car,

gets on the subway
and shoots herself in the head.

On the same night she just happens to be

smuggling confidential documents
out of the Pentagon.

I'm with you.
I'm just saying, I have to call this in

and Ben was the last person seen with her.

Either way, if he's still alive...
and I hope he is...

he's in deep shit.

Not to mention, we don't even know
where to start looking for him.

We have no idea
what's going on here, do we?

That's why I'm gonna talk to Sampson.

They fucked with you
the last time you tried.

What makes you think
this time will be any different?

'Cause this time
I know where he's gonna be

and I know how
to get his undivided attention.

Shit.

So our mama's standing there,

among the shards of her antique lamp,

and the brand-new football's
right beside it.

Well, my brothers and I
are, like, zipped up.

So, she sits us down,

tells us the story of George Washington.

"I cannot tell a lie.

Yes, I chopped down the cherry tree
with my hatchet."

When she finishes, she says,
"All right, now, what's the lesson here?"

And my brother Beau pipes in with,

"Well, you give a six-year-old an ax,

don't be surprised
if you lose a tree or two."

Mama didn't find it nearly as funny.

She took our football away for a month.

But that was the day

I learned that a person can be just
a little too clever for their own good.

You're better off just telling the truth
and taking your medicine.

I mean, you might
get a trip to the woodshed...

but at least you can play football
with your brothers when you get back.

Thank you.

Hey, we got to get out of here.
Thank you, guys.

It was a really great event.
We appreciate it. Thanks.

Excuse us.

What do you think of the news
that the governor of Rhode Island

is planning to enter the primaries?

The more the merrier.

Congressman Sampson. Jack Reacher.

Now a good time for our meeting?

You don't give up, do you?

It's okay.

I have a second dead woman
to discuss with you.

Should we do this in private or...

you want to do this here with the press?

Jack, it is good to see you again.

Hey, folks, if you will excuse us,

Major Reacher is a military hero

and an old friend.

He and I need to catch up in private.

Thank you all for coming out. Shall we?

That's it, folks.

Thank you. Good night.

Thank you.

You've got five minutes, Mr. Reacher.

Just Reacher.

Already wasting time. Get to the point.

A sex worker last seen with
Anna Merrick's missing son was murdered.

We just found the body a couple hours ago.

Well, prostitution's
a dangerous line of work.

Maybe her murder's a coincidence.

- Coincidences are rare.
- When I saw your military record,

I told those federal boys

that you'd be a hard man to scare away.

And I'll be damned if you aren't
out there running circles around 'em.

He's already found out
more than they have.

Who are they?

I can't say.

Why is the CIA involved?

Don't know.
I got nothing to do with the CIA.

Would you tell me if you did?

Probably not.

But I wouldn't pretend not to know,
'cause I don't have time for bullshit.

Did you know Anna Merrick?

Never heard of her
before early yesterday morning,

when I got a courtesy call from those feds

who told me that she might be involved
in a minor data breach.

Did she really say my husband's name
before she died,

or did you get it from the CIA
like you told the investigators?

Neither.

Then you're a liar.

Sometimes.

Well, who did you hear my name from?

From someone who said
the data Anna Merrick took

was connected
to a Delta mission you were on

in Indonesia back in the '90s.

Anna Merrick worked
for Human Resources Command.

Specific Delta mission information

is locked away where an HRC file clerk

couldn't get to it even if she wanted to.

Anna Merrick couldn't have had access
to anything more than

general details.
Dates and units and such.

The person who gave me your name
wouldn't need more than that

to prove what she's trying to prove.

Which is?

Something of a delicate nature.

My wife's tougher than you and me
covered in cowhide.

So, whatever you got, say it.

Dates and units are more than enough
to prove that you were in-country

when my source was conceived.

That's what this is about?
You think I had an affair?

That there's some love child out there
looking for Daddy?

Well, I can absolutely assure you

that when I was in-country,

my powder wasn't
the only thing I kept dry.

Hell, if my DNA is all it's gonna take

to get you to leave us alone...

Here you go. Run the test.

You'll see that I did not
father any children in Indonesia.

That won't be necessary.

I believe you.

You just had to come and look me
in the eye and ask me the question.

But you had already begun to suspect that

there was more to this
than what you've been told.

I can't see the CIA being so involved
in a domestic political sex scandal

that they'd kidnap
three American citizens on U.S. soil.

Two of 'em cops.

Me neither.

We've elected presidents
after sex scandals.

People don't seem to care much
about that anymore.

CIA seems to care.

Well...

their involvement troubles me, too.

My friends who wouldn't
show you their IDs are looking into that.

Of course, you understand
that I can't give you

any details of my Delta missions,

but what I can assure you
is that no crimes

were committed by me or any of my men.

My husband's been
in the political spotlight long enough

that if there was anything to find,

some muckraker would've found it by now.

Be that as it may, Mrs. Sampson,

Anna Merrick didn't kill herself
over nothing.

No one ever does.

But it was nothing to do with me.

I suggest

you stand down,

let the authorities handle it.

I can't do that.

Why not just walk away?

Lots of people have been
asking me that lately.

I have my reasons.

Well, suit yourself.

Bottom line:

we are as in the dark
on this thing as you are.

Okay.

For what it's worth, Reacher,

we hope the Merrick boy turns up safe

and we're truly saddened
to hear that his mother

felt compelled to take her own life.

But there's nothing more we can do.

And we need to get to Baltimore.

Fundraiser, first thing in the morning,
and it's late, so if you'll excuse us.

Ma'am.

Hey. How'd it go?

I don't believe Sampson's behind this.

Then who?

We need to have a private conversation...

Hey, who's that guy talking to Sampson?

That's Nolan Cahill.
Sampson's chief of staff.

What's wrong?

Remember when I said
there was a fourth witness on the train

when Anna killed herself?

That's him.