All language subtitles for 411117441471444

Subtitles by explosiveskull

We come out at night.

Black smoke.

You see me, right?

You want me to find you.

I see you.

Move it!

- Are we clear in there?
- Yeah.

All right.

McCaffrey, it's a mess in there.
Try not to make it worse.

Yeah.

Hey, anyone moved her?

Nope.
There's a burned filter

still in her left hand.

Boyfriend said he left
her in the bed smokin'.

Guy with a red hoodie?

Yeah.

Said when he came back,
the place was already burnin'.

Yeah.

Uh, he tried to get to her.

Not a chance.

Tequila.

Well, he's right.

The fire started
in the mattress.

Accidental by
smokin' materials.

I didn't say that.

Give him a hand
with those ladders!

Right now?

- Right before the fire?
- Yeah.

I tried,
but it burnt my hands.

- Thanks, man. I got this.
- Okay.

Hey. How you doin'?

I, um...
I'm sorry about your loss.

Thanks.

What's your name, man?

I... Dylan.

Sorry, I...

still can't believe it.

It's okay.
I understand.

All right. Dylan,
was your girlfriend in bed alone?

Yeah. Um...

I was watching a movie
on the couch.

Must've fallen asleep.

And by the time I woke up...

Yeah. I-I-I get it. I get it.

But, you see, the thing about people
burning to death is that they...

they always,
even in their sleep,

reflexively pull away
from the flame.

But your girlfriend
didn't.

And also, you know, people don't sleep
in the middle of a king-size bed, right?

They pick one side
or the other.

When somebody lowers an
unconscious person onto a bed,

they put 'em in the middle,
'cause it's easier.

So, you got to understand a curious
person like me is left wondering,

when I get this tested,

am I gonna find more
than agave in there?

Fucking piece of shit!

Jesus, who are you?

I'm a fireman.

- Office of Fire Investigation, can I help you?
- Mornin'.

- You get any sleep?
- Yeah, sure,

if puttin' my head on the steering
wheel outside for 20 minutes counts.

Hey, Sean? Captain
wants to see you.

- What's his name again, Warren?
- Webber.

Christ, he's been here a month.
It's Watts.

You two are hopeless.

Hey, Captain.

You want to see me?

Sit down, please.

Nice work with
the murdered girlfriend.

You got an attaboy from that
watch lieutenant in Homicide.

Doyle?
Did he choke on it?

I got the impression "thank you"
and "Fire Department"

in the same sentence
doesn't come naturally.

Yeah, but we're not really the
Fire Department though, are we?

Temporary detail order
for Maggie Rening to OFI.

Finished state arson school,
peace officer certs

and weapon qualifying.

Why are you
tellin' me this?

She's your new partner.

What? Hang on.

Two-man teams.
That's the rules.

Look, w-w-we've never had
partners before. Why now?

Probably because for too long nobody's
bothered to actually run this unit.

Look, the only reason

suppression captains like you
request OFI is

to brush up your resume before
going for Battalion Chief.

And I get it. I do.

But none of you really
understand how we work here,

and if you're like
every other short-termer,

the whole fireman-with-handcuffs thing
probably rubs you wrong on principle.

We offer a pretty good deal.

I mean, you get to sit there all
day studying for your BC exam,

but in return,

let us catch arsonists
our way, okay?

Yeah, I came from Suppression.

You wanna know one of the fires
I worked there?

West Haddon Street.

I know what you did
in that church.

And maybe with your uncle as Assistant Chief
of this unit nobody has the guts to say it,

but I will.

I don't have a problem
with firemen with handcuffs.

I have a problem with firemen
who are a menace.

Hey, for the record,

I've never asked a thing
of my uncle.

You can go back to work now.

Hey, Maggie Rening.

Yeah.

So let me guess.
Four years on an engine?

Five.

Do you actually know anything
about this work?

Arson bad, right?

- Hey, wait up!
- Stop!

Come on. We gotta hit
the Hunters before dark.

Hurry up, lazybones!

I'll trade you one
candy bar for that jawbreaker.

Come on.
Your turn to knock.

Hey, ask her for extra.
Hey, ask her for extra.

Miss Hunter? We're here.

Eric, knock louder.

- Eric, knock again.
- Is anyone home?

- Louder!
- Try the door!

I hope Mrs. Hunter
made cookies.

Walk into their house.

Trick or treat!

Mrs. Hunter?

- There you go, sir.
- Thanks.

Extra lamb spleen,
right?

Can't believe
you're still wearin' that coat.

He was my father.

And he was my brother.

You stalkin' me?

Doesn't take Sherlock
Holmes to find you.

All you gotta do is follow the
stench of the Sean lunch special.

- This conversation have a point?
- Yeah.

Yeah.

You can't keep breakin' balls for every
single captain who does a spin down at Arson.

And is this my uncle
or AC talkin'?

Take your pick.

Eh, well, I'm a big boy.
I can handle him.

Who's increasingly isolating
himself down there.

Well...

I didn't join
for the bowling league.

See ya around.

We got a hit.

Okay.

Don't talk.
Just listen to me,

the building, the fire,
everything, okay?

Yes?

Yo. Five so far.

All kids outside
trick or treatin'.

One, we think,
tried the door handle, and, uh...

- Christ.
- Yeah.

Let's go.
We're packin' up here.

- Yo, we clear in there?
- Yeah, we're clear.

Break those couplings.
Roll the wet stuff.

No sign of
an incendiary device,

yet the door blew
when they opened it.

So, a backdraft.

Hey. If you can't just listen to the
building before you're even in it,

you may as well
do us both a favor

and go wait in the truck.
All right?

Six, get your ladders picked
up and give 17 a hand with any hoses.

Okay, Rening.
So, what are you thinkin'?

Electrical short
in the plug.

Well, the fire certainly
visited the plug,

but there's no way
it started there.

Intense heat crazing,
V-shaped smoke stain.

It checks a lot of boxes.

Well, checklists only
cover the physics of the fire.

You also have to understand
what it wants.

Nothin' around that plug
that would excite a fire,

and this fire was excited.

Look at the glass.

If the fire did actually
start in the plug,

it would've lingered there
for a while,

got the lay of the land,
looked for more fuel.

That would've melted
the glass evenly,

not lopsided like that.

That requires extreme heat
comin' from one direction.

You know what?
You're right.

The fire did visit the plug,

but it's either a side effect
of the real deal,

or someone pre-rigged it to
make us think it started there.

The lower half of the room
where our plug is

isn't as burned
as the upper walls.

Means the fire spent
more time high than low,

so it must have
entered high somehow.

Wait a second.

The fire didn't start
in the room.

It came in through the ducts
from somewhere else.

Pooling.

Hot enough to scar metal,
but leave no molten trace.

Watch your step.

That's the furnace.

The ignition point's
at the bottom of that mess.

- Get digging.
- Thanks.

Well, enjoy.

And you?

Me? I'm gonna get dessert.

Watch your backs.

So, I got four unsolved kids
on my desk, or what?

If you could count, that's five.
And I don't know yet.

Mm. They burn,
they're yours.

A lot of dead kids.

Yeah, too many.

Anybody found
the owners yet?

Looks like
nobody was home.

Touhy's runnin' down
title records.

Listen, we can't let this become a shit
show with the press. You understand?

So, what I need from you ASAP is
cause, all right?

Was it homicide,
was it arson?

Yeah.

Hey.

Are we
on the same page?

It started in
the air conditioning.

Then used the ducts
to get through the house.

I need a little light.

Breaker didn't trip.

The plastic sheathing on
the calibration screw's missing.

Set wrong, it could cause a power
surge and overload the mechanism.

Discoloration shows that this cable here
experienced the highest temperatures.

Now, if the heat source came from within
the cable, as an electrical overload,

it would melt the plastic
insulation against it.

But if not, then the heat source
came from outside the cable,

as in a splash of gasoline.

Somebody splashed it.

Looks like somebody splashed it to make
it look like an accidental overload,

if nobody bought the shorted
plug in the other room

as an ignition point.

Chief McCaffrey,
is he your uncle?

Yeah, technically.

What do we got?

Or not?

Medical examiner's only done soot-or-shot
prelims on the bodies so far.

We got five males
all under 15.

Hmm.

What killed them?

In the prelim opinion of the ME
the fire killed 'em.

All right,
that's five deaths on us.

Or, uh, you to be exact.

Well, if it's fire,
I think I'm done here?

- What do you think, Sean? Murder?
- It's too early.

But I got to tell you, I'm going to have
a hard time callin' "accidental" on this.

What I don't
got to tell ya is

that there ain't a single
Naugahyde jockey down at City Hall

that wants to call this arson.

Not the mayor, who's already got a serious
problem with his homicide rate this year,

not the PD
and sure as hell not us.

- ATF comin' in on this?
- No.

I think it's safe to say that Sean
buggered that relationship for all time.

Who, Kunz?
The guy's an asshole.

He couldn't pour piss out of a turn-out
boot with the instructions on the heel.

What about the family?

The Hunters, Rod and Jan,
married, no kids.

We can't find them yet.

I'll tell ya what
we're not gonna do.

Until we find the Hunters and we have a
solid determination on cause and origin...

we're not gonna say shit.

Nobody utters the "A" word,
got it?

Now, tell me one true thing.

Canvass gave us a lot
of half-sentences.

There's maybe a gang
hitting houses in the area.

The DOT camera
at the intersection

might give us
video surveillance of a car.

You ID the car, you move.

I want these jag-offs
off the street instantly.

Right? Mm.

Sure.

By the way...

who are you?

Maggie Rening.

- Rening?
- She's detailed to Sean.

Rening.

Well, that's...
That's a beautiful thing.

Now the OFI is officially
the Island of Broken Toys.

Freaks who did this with a ribbon on
top, before we say a word.

Yep.

Whoa, whoa.

Hey, I get growled at
enough at work. All right?

In North Side's Lincoln Park,

in the wake of tonight's
devastating explosion

that took the lives
of five young trick-or-treaters

as they simply went asking
for some candy on Halloween.

Neighborhood families have been leaving
flowers and notes of condolence,

wondering just how
this could have happened.

Fire officials are still
investigating the townhouse

that burst into flames
without warning.

The owners of the home,
Rod and Jan Hunter,

have not yet been located,

and fire officials are asking
for anyone with information

on the Hunters' whereabouts
to contact them.

Speculation about the cause of
the fire is on everyone's mind.

City council members are
demanding answers.

Was it an accident,
or is this a case of arson?

One thing is for certain,

the lives of five Lincoln Park families and
this community will never be the same again.

Reporting live...

Sean!

Sean!

Sean!

I just don't buy you were drawn
all the way down that ducting.

Not on your own.

You don't hunt that way.

Oh, shit.

They made you lie.

All right.

What? What, are you movin' in?
How'd you get...

Burnin' things
don't bother you, huh?

Hey! No more of that,
all right?

No more of that.

Yeah, that's better.
There you go.

Okay, this isn't
what it looks like.

I'm just randomly throwin'
food out there, all right?

Rening. Rening.

You know, I did my homework.

There was a firefighter
named Rening, right,

who got two commendations in a single
year for makin' live snatches in fires.

I mean, wow, that's gotta be
some kind of record, right?

It isn't.

People don't join the fire
department to carry a gun.

They move to OFI either because they're so
busted up they can't do line work anymore,

or they can't get arson out of their
bones, and you clearly aren't either.

Yeah?
Well, which are you?

Me? I rise above
all categories.

Maybe you're both.

Why are you here,
Rening?

They didn't do it.

Lieutenant Doyle ID'd
their plate near the scene

off the intersection camera.

They had gas
and pry bars in the car.

Look, I don't doubt these yo-yos
were up to something, somewhere,

but it wasn't that building.

Oh, what makes you
so sure?

Because these goofballs
had gasoline in the car.

Gasoline's amateur hour.

It burns twice as hot,
bashes around like a bull in a china shop,

and puts itself out
in half the time.

Look, gas chromatograph
came back on the wiring

and there's benzyl-nitrate
all over it, not gasoline,

with just enough sprinkles
of linoleum to, uh, hide the BZ,

but not enough
to confirm a splash.

Now, BZ is
what the pros use, okay?

It burns cool, takes longer to
bite, but when it does,

it holds on like a Gila monster.

Whoever did this is smart enough
to try and fake a fried plug,

is also smart enough

to throw us a basement breaker
panel overload if we got past that,

and smarter still to trick the fire
using the BZ up into the ducting

while hiding it with
linoleum hydrocarbon signatures.

Whoever did this is smarter than
anyone I've come up against.

Not the smartest.

He's been locked up
behind bars for decades.

Ronald Bartel.

Takes it
to a whole 'nother level.

- Ronald Bartel.
- Don't worry about it.

Hey, Doyle.
The Hunters are still missing.

I feel your pain.

Okay, well I need you to put
more manpower into finding them.

Why would I go anywhere near it?
They burn, they're yours.

One of the kids
didn't die by fire.

What? I thought you were
selling a backdraft for them.

The door killed him.
That's blunt force trauma.

No, you wouldn't.
Not even you.

What, you wanna see how many of those
little souls I can dump in your lap? Hmm?

- Okay. I'll put a team on it.
- Attaboy.

Ah, Jesus Christ.
What are you doin' here, Kunz?

I thought you'd be workin'
igloo fires in Alaska

after the last
fucked-up call you made.

ATF, OFI Insurance Task Force.

- What, and they put you on it?
- Well, who they didn't was you.

- Who's this?
- Maggie Rening.

Hi. So what are you doin'
stickin' your beak into my fire?

High-profile burn. It makes sense
the city might want a second opinion.

Oh, and the ATF just happens
to have enough budget

to randomly throw extra man
hours at somebody else's fire?

Two guys walk into a building.
One walks out.

You know something, Kunz?
You always trusted your CIs too much.

You know what,
I still clear cases.

And I do it
without jerking off to fire.

Yeah, yeah.
Stay away from my burn.

You always make
this many friends in a day?

Hey, I was just
headin' out to dinner.

Thought you might
wanna come.

Ah, I got plans.

It's your mother's
birthday.

Well, send my best.

You'll be missed.

Again.

Yeah. Well,
talk to her husband about that.

Mm.

You know, Sean,
I think about those days...

about your dad...

all the time.

Ahh. Yeah.

Well, thanks for tryin'
to take the shot.

I'll call Mom.

But you still
won't come.

Like I said, I got plans.

You scare him, you know.

I'm sorry, what?

That old man.

Oh, no.
We're friends.

I come here all the time.
Uh, he owns the place.

I've, uh,
seen you here before.

He's freaked out by you.

Uh, no.

I helped him out
a while back.

We're buddies.

Helped him, huh?

Please, tell me.

How?

Uh, well, he kept
havin' kitchen fires.

Um, so I staked it out

and found out it was a
competing diner down the street

pouring grease
down the roof exhaust so...

Caught the bad guys.
That's it.

- And the owner was grateful.
- Yeah, sure.

- So he told you to come by.
- Yeah. I can think here.

So you do, come by any time?

Whoa, sorr... I'm sorry.
Who... Who are you?

Jenny.

Are you a cop?

Uh, fireman.

Well, sort of.
Arson investigator. You?

Geologist.

Come on, really?

Okay. All right.
Wow. Geologist.

So, uh, how do you know
old Tommy over there?

'Cause he's my father.

Oh, shit. Uh...

We don't talk anymore.

Oh, you just hang out here?

Pop quiz.
Who are you?

- Oh. Really?
- Really.

Oh, wow. Okay.

Um, well, uh,

I'm the son and grandson
of dead firemen.

I investigate arson,

not because I like fire,
but because I understand it.

A distinction without a difference
to some of the people I work with.

What about you?

Uh, I am the only daughter
of a traditional father

who has disowned me
because I'm 30, unmarried,

and work looking for oil in the
employ of foreign billionaires,

which basically, in his eyes,
makes me an escort.

I burned my stepfather's
house down when I was a kid.

- 'Cause you understand fire, not like it, right?
- Ooh. Touché.

Uh, my father thinks

I'm the re-incarnated son
that he lost in a miscarriage.

Last time I saw my father alive we were
makin' breakfast for my mom in the kitchen.

I can't remember
the last time I saw my mother.

Everyone I know is either
scared of or for me.

- I'm very good at what I do.
- I'm better.

All right.

Ooh, shit.

Uh, did that just blow it?

Let's see.

Oh, that cop Doyle
hasn't found the Hunters yet,

but he sent over
what the PD has on them.

Anything interesting?

Couple's been through
a few bankruptcies,

DA opened up a case against the
husband for money laundering,

but dropped it.

Find out how much insurance
they carry.

Battalion Three, Engine Seven.

This a two story commercial
fire showing.

Uh, not much.

If anything,
the place was underinsured.

With it being tied up
in their latest bankruptcy...

- I'm seeing blue smoke at the roofline.
- Son of a bitch.

Battalion Three,
this is OFI 4-2-2 en route. Stay put.

Aren't Touhy and Rickets up?

I know this asshole.
He pre-weakens the roof structure.

Blue smoke is
a chemical ignition.

It'll go up the central core
and total the building.

We gotta get there and warn IC
before the whole thing comes down.

Hey, Chief,
I'm sure it's a spark.

Tell your guys
to get out of the building now.

Make sure everyone's outta there.
Get 'em out, now.

Move! Move!

Give me the hose!
Give me the hose!

Come on!

Stay there! Don't move!

Stop!

I said, stop!

Don't move!

- Freeze!
- Dude! Son of a bitch!

Freeze! Freeze!

Pull back.

I told you, if you ever do that
again, I will kill you!

- You stupid, dumb, mother...
- Stop! Stop!

You pathetic...

you for-hire torches,
you really think fire dances for you?

Piece of shit!

Geez, Sean!

It's impossible to bust these assholes
without catchin' them in the act,

and I had just about enough
of this piece of shit.

Sean, get a medic!

You hurt him.
Get an ambulance!

So you really pre-weaken roof
beams on your fires, huh?

It brings 'em down fast.
The clients like that.

No roof also means an insurance
total on the building.

It also traps firefighters.

I only do commercial vacants.
I don't kill people.

It's nice to know there's
still standards in the world.

Yeah, not like that freak show
in Lincoln Park.

The Halloween fire?

I wouldn't touch that
for three times the fee.

Did someone offer you a fee
for the Lincoln Park fires?

Look, it was just in the wind.

All right, but like I said,
I don't burn people.

Our Sean-Fuckin'-McCaffrey has
torched more guys than I have.

This offer in the wind,

it say why it wanted
the nice house burned?

This guy knew his arson.

It was twisted stuff.

You and Matchstick Charlie
have a nice little chat?

Somebody was tryin' to hire out
a burn on our townhouse.

That pissant
said that to you?

I wasn't the one pushin' him through
a window, so yeah, I guess so.

Excuse me. I need to speak to the
guy they brought in from the fire?

Not until
he's been treated.

Okay.

He won't talk to you.

Oh, yeah? Why not?

- Because I told him not to.
- Shit.

There you go. Hi, Sean.

- Who's this?
- This is Ronald Bartel,

deadliest arsonist in the city
since Mrs. O'Leary's cow.

Moo.

Nursing homes, orphanages, probably a
hundred others we'll never know about

since Ronald's specialty's
makin' them look like accidents.

The littlest McCaffrey.

You never came to see me.

Your Uncle Brian did.

So, what are you doin'
out of your cage, hmm?

I hoarded a lot of sugar.

Ate it all at once.

I'm diabetic.

It's my secret
get-out-of-jail-free card.

Sit.
We have so much to talk about.

Yeah.

Lincoln Park?

You can't make your fire
work, can you?

You know in your bones
it has to be arson,

but you can't prove it,
and that's eating you alive.

- Go wait in the truck.
- What?

Do it.

This is absurd.

She's an arson
investigator?

No!
She doesn't have the look.

Not like Rimgale did.

Not like you do.

How do you know
about my fire?

Oh, there are lots of us around and about
who have an interest in such things.

Some are guests of the State,
but some are not.

And some of them are surprisingly
good at hacking databases.

OFI's, for instance.

They hacked OFI's photos, reports,
conjectures, and then they share them.

Yeah.

Want to share with me, Sean?
Come on.

All right, I'll share first.

Lincoln Park.

I read OFI's report,

and they said...

there was
a "single ignition source."

That's idiocy.

Didn't they look at your pictures?
I did.

So much heat, Sean,
driven through the ducting so fast

that it gobbled up enough oxygen
to create a backdraft.

Somebody's got a secret
in there.

And you know what, Ronald?
You're gonna tell me.

No. Sharing's a process,

and we take turns.

That was my turn to share.

Now it's yours.

I want you to share with me
a fire at, um...

West Haddon Street.

By the time you finally
cornered Wicek in there,

he'd burned down
how many churches by then?

Eight, right?

You paused when you saw it,
didn't you?

Just for an instant.
Just to admire it.

Because Wicek had created
a... a real work of art.

And he brought out the dragon.

The dragon was talking to you,
Sean, and you were listening,

and you understood
what the dragon was saying.

Huh, sure...

sure you paused.

You couldn't resist.

God, to have been there.

The greatest arson duel
in history.

Oh. Oh. Oh.

Oh, my goodness. Oh, my goodness.
Oh, my goodness.

Mm. I have one more question.

Isn't it my turn
for questions?

Yeah. Okay. All right.
I'll ask it after.

To get that much heat moving
that fast through the ducting

would've required the laying out
of additional accelerant.

But you didn't see
any signs of that, did you?

So, the answer had to be,

a second ignition source.

But you looked for it and you
couldn't find it, could you?

And you checked for everything.

Absolutely everything.

Did you check for
celluloid and mercury?

See?
Sharing can be good for you.

W-W-Wait!
I said I had a question!

I know how lonely it can be
for a person like you.

Did you and Ronald
catch up on old times?

Hey, listen.
Those circular burns on the ducts?

They were made by a one-time cell
igniter powered by a micro-battery.

It was consumed by the fire.
I can't believe I missed it.

Okay.

Let's go.

Sean.

Sean.

Ghosts with fire-like eyes.

Sean!

They're me.

- I'm them.
- Sean!

Sean.

Dodged Animal Control
one more night, huh?

What are you doin', huh?

Really?

So, you start
in the air-con unit,

slow, findin' your rhythm.

Then you're led
through the ducts.

You're hungry.
You know it's bait, but you bite.

BZ, second cellulose igniter kept you
travelin' through the ducts at speed.

But you never managed
a gulp of air.

A house this old, this loose?

You should've gotten
around a window,

a chink in the wall,
found more oxygen and kept goin'.

Something trapped you.

Made you lose your mind.

Strangled you,
made you lose your mind.

Left you lyin' here
silently for hours...

a thousand degrees,
all dressed up, nowhere to go.

Nowhere to go.

What you got? Huh?

What you got?
You smellin' something strange?

That's how they trapped you.

They sealed off the air and turned
the whole room into a frustration box.

You always do off-duty investigations
in the middle of the night?

It's the way I work.
What's your excuse?

Oh, you have a dog?

A stray.
A stray with skills, apparently.

The stray have a name?

Well, if he had a name,
he'd be mine.

You know,
I kept checkin' on you.

Nobody likes to talk about it
though, right?

Big hero, saving a kid
not once but twice

before you even had three years on?

I mean,
articles in The Tribune, awards.

Face of the new department.

But if you sniff hard enough,
and I did,

it turns out there's this
whole other story, right?

This firefighter
who starts stealin' things

from the apartments
she's been fightin' fires in.

I mean, come on, man.
What is that?

That's like bein' a fuckin'
child molester on this job.

What was it? Hmm?

All that attention,

all those expectations make you wanna
do bad things and hurt yourself?

You know what? You got just enough
juice from all those awards,

they give you one last shot and move
you away from Suppression and into OFI,

because we don't
do charity here, right?

You don't know me.

Oh, but I think I can guess.

Yeah? Maybe you know all about
the, uh, pressure of rumors.

Ah.

Plumber's putty.

They sealed off the air
exchange points with it.

Burns clean under the heat.

I would've missed it
if it weren't for that mutt.

So they wanted the house
interior to burn completely.

Yeah.

I got nowhere else
to go, okay?

Nowhere.

And what do you want me
to do about it?

I can be good at this.

Okay. All right.

What does all this
say to you? Hmm?

That it's a hell of a lot of trouble just
to go after a couple that wasn't even home.

Yeah, you see I don't think
it was ever about the owners.

I think it was
about the house itself.

Somebody didn't need it
burned, they needed it erased.

Now, why don't you go home
and think about that?

I'll see ya tomorrow.

So you got anything
on the Hunters or not?

Like I e-mailed
your partner here,

some chaotic finances, mainly to do
with their tech company, Hunter Systems.

What does, uh,
Hunter Systems make?

A subcontractor
in some kind of, uh, NATO...

Where the hell is it?

NATO AIM-120 missile upgrade.

There have been quality control
issues over DOD quality specs.

Hunters have been
shifting money around,

trying to keep the company going
until they can sort it out.

They're in trouble,
they're not.

The DOD, the DA and the feds
can't seem make up their minds.

We've been over this with the police
and our project supervisors at DOD.

Nobody's seen or heard from Jan and Rod
Hunter since the fire at their townhouse.

Did Rodger Hunter normally spend
a lot of time at the office?

Depended on where we were
in development.

It's his company.

Were they havin' problems
with production?

I can't get into specifics,

but there were redesign requests on
the missile's seeker head optics.

That's the part of
the AIM-120 we do.

And then there was the fire,
of course.

Fire?

On our test bed.

The techs were doing
our first integrated run

on a fully functional prototype
of the new AIM Rathyeon sent over.

Unfortunately, a fire
broke out after-hours,

and the prototype
was destroyed.

It's caused a delay
and slowed our cash flow.

Were you insured?

Of course. The fire was
determined accidental.

Our insurance company though,
have been slow in our payments.

- Why?
- They're an insurance company.

Who investigated
the fire?

We're in a small suburb here
with a volunteer fire department.

They don't have
an arson office.

Since we're on a fed contract
they sent someone over from ATF.

ATF guy
have a name?

Ralph Kunz.

I think we're gonna need to
have a look at that fire scene.

Banged itself inside

lookin' for a breath of air just
like the Hunter's townhouse.

Can I use the word?

Backdraft?

Guess we just did.

Show me where the investigator
tagged the origin of the fire?

Over there.

What is it?

A cooling plant.

Rocket was unarmed,
of course.

The solid fuel
went off in the heat.

There was basically
nothing left after.

Why do I think
if we scrape this,

we're gonna find traces
of BZ and linoleum?

Kinda convenient the building
happens to go off

when they have
a missile prototype in there.

Why burn their own building?

Well,
if the Department of Defense

were havin'
quality control issues,

it could slow down
an investigation.

Insurance money
would help hold 'em over.

Only the insurance company
is slowly walkin' a payment.

It's probably because they're as suspicious
of Kunz's "accidental" call as we are.

- McCaffrey.
- Doyle.

Auto fire you might be interested
in, in a lot right now off Kensey.

- Just saying.
- Copy that. We're on our way.

- That the Hunters?
- It's their car.

Gonna take dental or DNA
to confirm their ID,

but I'm takin' bets on yes.

Probably lured here to meet
someone, or they were dumped.

Passing uniforms came
on it already burning.

- If it burns, it's yours.
- Yeah.

Easy.
It's still a crime scene.

Jesus, Kunz,
you're like a bad penny.

You wanna tell me what you're doin'
nosin' around a car fire in my city?

Talk to the badge.
The gold federal one over there.

McCaffrey.

Agent Johnson.

Is there someplace around here
we could get something to eat?

You know Hunter Systems was on the bankruptcy
bubble with this missile subcontract.

Rod Hunter was grabbing money anywhere
he could to keep the doors open.

Hang on. So you're thinkin' insurance
fraud on the fire that burned the missile?

Oh, I'm pretty sure
Hunter had somebody light it,

regardless what
the ATF comes up with,

but not for the insurance.

The AIM-120 missile
was a big deal.

Next-gen seeker heads could take
out any peer air force fighter.

Thank you.

A lot of alarm bells went off
in the Pentagon after the fire.

DOD inspectors
swarmed the place,

did a thorough on the
missile parts that survived.

There wasn't much, but enough to spot
that what had burned in that test bed

was a mock-up substituted
for the real prototype.

Then cue the wife.

Soon as she realizes
DOD isn't buyin' the switch,

she walks into my office
and cops to the whole thing.

How her husband
planned to shop the real one,

with all its spooky
next generation technology,

to certain unsavory middlemen

who would then market its specs
to any unpleasant foreign entities

willing to pay
plenty for them.

Wait, hang on. So, uh, Hunter handed
over the missile to these middlemen?

That's the thing.

Turns out the wife
moved it someplace else

without telling her husband,

or that she'd come to us
for a deal.

She promised us
all the evidence,

and the missile's location
on a hard drive,

in exchange
for immunity.

And then
they disappeared.

So, our unsavory middlemen
probably paid Rod,

and when he couldn't deliver the
prototype 'cause wifey moved it...

Well, I'm imagining they worked them over
pretty good before lighting up that car.

- Yeah, right.
- Which I'm guessing also means

she probably told them
where the missile really was.

But, given their bodies
were only dumped today,

they may have been
on the run till now,

which means it's possible our bad guys
haven't yet been able to move the prototype.

With something that big,
you can't just put it in checked luggage.

They're gonna have to move it through
a shipping port to a third country.

And we've got devices that can sniff
out hydroxyl polybutadiene propellant

deployed at all
likely exit points.

Hang on. There's no way
they found the hard drive.

That's why
they used a backdraft.

Okay, look, backdraft cooks
for hours before it blows,

thoroughly incinerates
any evidence inside.

They had to be sure.

It's possible they killed her before
she said anything about working with us.

If so, we want
their guard down enough,

we can catch them when
they try to move the prototype.

Five kids
died in that fire.

I wanna catch the assholes
that did it.

Not declaring it arson, at least not
yet, will help me do that.

Oh, and I suppose
it not being arson

spares the DOD and its contractors
from havin' to publicly explain

that they let slip a top secret missile to our
country's enemies has got nothin' to do with it?

Come on.
Accidental fire, I imagine,

makes a whole lot of
conversations go away, right?

Look,
we want the same thing as you.

You know, it's funny.
When people say that, they don't.

What the heck?

Ah, somebody's been here.

Coin flip, it was our FBI buddies
lookin' for the hard drive.

You know, I don't care
what the Hunters were doin'

with their money
or their missile,

but when someone chose fire
to cover their tracks...

they made a big mistake.

I'm sorry for your loss.

Eric.

Such a sweet child.

So bright.

You could never be mad at him.
You were too busy laughing.

When we moved here...

Eric made fast friends
with my son.

Hey. Hey.

Did you, uh, know the Hunters?

Eric did.
Me and him...

we used to get cookies
from her sometimes.

Were you ever at the house?

We buried our dinosaurs there,

but Mrs. Hunter got really,
really mad at us.

So, she said that
if we wanted to dig,

we had to go
play in the park.

The kid was right.
Dug it out of the Hunter's yard.

Looks water-damaged.

Get Doyle's I.T. guy on the phone
and see what he can pull off this.

And tell him
to keep a lid on it for now.

So, do I get detective points
for finding the hard drive?

Well, a few more and I might try
harder to remember your name.

We treat canines

as if they are
fellow human beings

with all the thoughts and emotions
and behaviors of a family member.

It's our closest and most enduring
relationship with another species.

We share our lives, our homes,
even our beds with them.

All right.

What do you reckon, hmm?

Don't look at me like that.
It's house special.

There you go.

No parties after 11:00.

Okay, so, Jan Hunter's hard
drive was corrupted by moisture.

I.T. was able to pull
some chunks off it,

some coherent,
some not so much.

But our job today is to go through
these printouts of the hard drive

and see if anything
connects to our fire.

- Find the missile, we find our arsonist.
- Rening.

Christ! This shit is garbled.

What are
these numbers here?

Could be measurements,

but I can't make
the dimensions make any sense.

It might be a code?

Looks like it was linked to some
Hunter Systems entry she made.

Wait a second.
This isn't feet and inches.

Guys!
This is minutes and seconds.

This is coordinates,
lat and long.

For where?

It's the main shipping office
for Slick-X Couriers.

I think I need to see
that warrant.

I'll get it.

Scuff marks.

Well, that's somewhere big
enough to hold a missile.

What the fuck?

You son of a bitch.

Shit.

Same trigger
as the Hunters' house.

Freeze!

Don't you fuckin' move!

Now, I know most of the arsonists
in this city but I don't know you.

- Who are you workin' for? Who paid you?
- Everybody. Nobody.

We don't give a shit,
and we don't ask who.

You really don't know shit.
Ronald is wrong about you.

Shut the fuck up.

You're breakin' this place
to burn evidence.

Don't be stupid. We're cops!

You're just a fireman
who walked in the wrong room.

Get back... Back!
Go! Move, move!

Get in the closet. Keep your head down!
Keep your head down.

We gotta get out of here.

He knows if he moves
he'll trigger a flashover.

And right now the fire's
settling into a stable exchange.

This is about one thing and one thing
only, and that's timing.

You understand?
The spark in him knows to stay put,

but the man inside is screaming,
"Run." Let him move first.

- You're out of your mind.
- Look at me!

You gotta trust me, okay?

No matter what it looks like,
when I say go, you let him move first.

Wait, wait! Let him move first.

Wait! Wait!
Okay, go! Go!

Sean!

Waiting for the dragon.

Sean!

- Feel it breathe.
- Sean!

- I see you.
- Sean!

Sean!

Sean! I made it out!
I made it out.

- Help me! Please! Help!
- Oh, shit.

Please help me!
Save me! Please!

Help!

Help me!

Please! Please help me! Please!

- Okay. You're on your own?
- My daddy's the manager!

- Okay, it's gonna be all right. I'm gonna get you out of here.
- Daddy!

Okay, hold on tight.

Hold on.

I got ya. Hold tight.

Seventeen, let's go!
Let's go!

Go! Go! Go!

Hang on! Hang on! I got you.

- Hold on! Hold on, don't look down!
- Sean.

Don't look down. I got you.

Seventeen, let's move it!
Let's go!

Come on.
Don't give up on me, buddy!

Come on! Come on. Keep going!
That's it! Listen.

I've got you. All right.

- Come on.
- All right.

Sean!

Firefighter down!
Firefighter down!

Everything is gonna be
all right. I got you.

Sean? Can you hear me?

Sean!

Fuck.

Look what I found.

Any busted bones?

How the hell should I know?
Rening make it out okay?

She's fine.
She's up with the rigs.

I'm gonna need some help
gettin' out of here.

I'd say so.

Like, now.

You know, actually,

I was thinkin'
we'd have a little chat.

Jesus Christ, you're insane.
Would you just get me out of here?

Think we got all night,
unless you're bleeding internally,

or, uh,
this wall comes down on you.

My God,
this family's so fucked up.

Okay, Uncle,
what's on your mind?

How much longer you gonna keep
blamin' me for Stephen's death?

Well, we got all night, right?

You weren't there
that night, Sean.

You don't know what happened.

I know as soon as you could,
you moved out of Suppression,

because you don't have it
in the belly.

Not like your brother,
or your father.

Or you?

Hey, fuck you.
I would've beat it.

Or you might've wound up dead like
everybody else in this goddamn family.

Why don't you just tell me
what happened?

Because, Sean, there are
things about that day that...

nobody's supposed to know.

Sean, you gotta trust me.

There's nothing I could've done.
Nothing, about that day.

Bullshit! Bullshit!

You were there!
You could've saved him.

Don't you understand?
I need to know what happened.

Brian, I always have.

Sean.

Your father died
tryin' to save his best friend.

But his best friend
was an arsonist.

Adcox was an arsonist.

Sean...

if there's one thing
I've learned is that there's...

more to life than hangin' onto
this family bullshit,

this dysfunction over
and over and over, this...

Come on.

I just, I hope you can...

you can find a way
to move forward from this, man.

Before it's fuckin' too late.

Sounds like that wall's
about to come down.

It sure is.

Not that we care though, right?

As, you know, McCaffreys?

Let's get you outta here.

Hey, 17!

I got him, 17!

I got him!

Son of a bitch up there.

No confession.

No evidence.
Not even a fuckin' name.

You're amazing.

What?

You just
walked through fire,

saved a kid, swan dived,
what, three stories?

And walked away.

That's the best
this job ever gets.

Trust me,
I know.

You know,
when I had those two saves...

nothing
could touch me, man.

Until it did.

That was later.

But in the moment...

when it belonged
to just me,

I howled at the moon at the
sheer awesomeness of it.

Yeah.

You? You're sittin' around
drinkin', thinkin' about arson.

- What the hell is wrong with you?
- What's wrong with me?

I'll tell you what's wrong with me.
I suck at bein' a fireman.

I suck at the camaraderie and the storytelling and the whole,

"We-happy-few,
let's-go-wrestle-old-man-fire" bullshit.

I'll never have my grandfather's
sense of duty,

or my father's charisma, or my uncle's
weird, fucked-up sense of perspective.

I'll always blow just about
everything to do with this job,

except for one part,

and that's beatin' fire.

I mean, I don't cry enough
about what I see.

I don't know anybody's name.

I don't give a fuck about 99 percent
of the people wastin' oxygen around me,

but nobody... nobody puts
away more arsonists than I do.

You know, maybe all that
makes me a bad fireman,

or maybe, just maybe,

it makes me the best one here.

You know, I really don't
give a shit which one it is.

To two firefighters
who suck at bein' firefighters.

Hey, Mom.

I'm okay.

All his visitors,
last 12 months.

Okay.

So who are you?

Do I hear a McCaffrey out there?

Where are you going, Sean?

You going back
to West Haddon Street?

Sean?

Sean!

Sean!

Sean.

Sean!

Sean?

What? Were all
the bowling alleys closed?

Department's tryin' to declare
the Hunter fire "Undetermined."

- You kidding me?
- If the evidence isn't there...

Hey, I wasn't talkin' to you.

Listen, I'm investigator of record here.
I'm not gonna sign off on that.

You're not the lead
on the case anymore, Sean.

But you can't do that,
not without cause.

That spark
you dangled out the window,

he filed
a battery complaint.

- Fuckin' Christ, this is bullshit!
- Yeah?

Plus they got witnesses that overheard
Rening yellin' at you about it.

- That wasn't... Look, I didn't mean...
- The guy's a fuckin' arsonist.

He lit the building that burned him.
But whatever, okay?

Let him file.
I'll beat it with my eyes closed.

- Just don't take me off my burn.
- Already done.

- Kunz.
- I swear to fuckin' God.

Soto wants more liaison
between OFI and ATF anyway,

so he's gonna let them
run with it for now.

- With this asshole?
- Two guys walk in, one walks out.

I'm not happy about it either, okay?
At all.

But, for now,
it's done.

You're on admin leave until they make
a determination on the battery...

Damn it!

Fucking everybody!

Everybody from Chief Soto
to the FBI

to the whole goddamn world wants
this to be anything but arson.

Everybody but the mothers
of those children.

Come on, Brian.
Don't do this. I am so close.

Maybe if you bit your tongue
every once in a while,

your career dissipation light
wouldn't be flashin' right now.

The trouble with
bitin' my tongue is

I always seem to end up
with a mouthful of blood.

Take some time, Sean.

- Cool off.
- Whatever.

Fucker!

Hey. Is everything okay?

Hey.

Can we just stay in tonight?
I need to see you.

Can they really do that?

Guess they just did.

Did you ever crack
what those numbers were?

Nope.
Just a part of it,

a bunch of locations
across the city,

but we don't even know
how they connect.

Did anyone suggest
cell tower loggings?

What do you mean?

Just something I saw
on oil projects in Saudi.

Rather than guard
every project,

they would put trackers
on the machinery.

Hang on, what?

They had built-in accelerometers
that activated when it was moved.

When it got in range of a cell
tower, it would start phoning home.

This looks at lot
like the same thing.

Did the Hunters put a cell-based
tracker on the crate you're looking for?

Uh, I don't know.
The wife might've done.

Hey. Listen, can you, uh,
check with a cell phone company,

see if any of those numbers
you sent me match towers.

Yeah, all right,
call me back.

Are they gonna run it down?

Hopefully.
I'm not allowed near it for now.

But Christ, Jenny,
that's amazing.

Have you
named him yet?

Well, if he had a name,
he'd be mine.

What is it?

Hey. Hey, wake up.

Wake up.

Oh, shit.

Hey, Jenny. Jenny, wake up.

Mm. What?

- Hey, wake up.
- What's going on? What's that smell?

- Hey! Don't move.
- What?

Listen to me.
Listen to me.

That's gas. It's comin' up
through the floorboards.

Look at me.
I'm not fuckin' around, okay?

There's a contact switch
under the bed that's just set.

- If we get up, it's gonna blow...
- Blow?

Easy. Listen to me.

Now, I can keep
my weight on it, okay?

And you can ease out,
but take it slow.

Okay?

You can do it. Slow. Go on.

Go on.

Easy, easy,
easy, easy, easy!

Let me get over.

There you go.

Easy.

Okay, stop, stop, stop.

All right.
All right, come on.

- Okay, now get outta here and call the fire station.
- What, just leave you here?

- Jenny, listen to me.
- I-I can't.

Listen to me!

The sooner you make that call,
the better chance I have, okay?

Go! Come on!

Goddamn it. Fuck.

You could've warned me earlier.

Don't look at me like that.

Odds would've been better at the
pound, pal. Just sayin'.

- He's in the bedroom.
- Stay out here.

Oh shit, Sean.

Engine 36 is on the way.

- What, Hector?
- Second shift. Masey.

- Okay.
- Oh, shit.

They got you all
rigged up down here.

Is that gas?

Yeah, they probably tricked it
from the stove line

into a shaped pocket to blow
upwards when it's released.

- What do I do?
- I try not to think about what you're gonna do.

Hey! No, wait.
Where are you goin'?

- I'm gonna try and cut it off at the main.
- No. Don't.

They probably booby-trapped it in case I
smelled the gas before the plate timer set.

Listen, if Masey knows
what he's doing,

he can use his shoring blocks
to slowly replace my weight

and get me off it
before the plate timer...

Oh, shit!

- What'd you do?
- I don't know.

Maybe-Maybe there's a secondary timer.
I'm not sure.

I'm gonna shut it off
down here.

Brian, get out!

Brian, just get out
of the building!

Just do me a favor.
Shut up and don't move.

No, Brian,
don't be stupid. Get out!

I'm gonna draw the gas
down here away from you.

No! Brian, get out the building!

I'm not letting
another McCaffrey die.

Listen to me. You'll watch two
if you don't get out now!

Sorry. Not again.

Brian! Get out!

Brian!

Present arms!

You were right.

The numbers correspond
to cell towers.

We monitored the frequency.

The last few hits
have been near Calumet.

It must be far from the tower because
the search circle is way too large.

Takes in half the storage areas
south of the city.

Nobody's got the manpower to
search that many storage yards.

And with the ATF on the fire and Kunz's
"undetermined" call, we got no writ.

It's up to the feds now.

Look, to hell with
downtown and the feds.

Orders or not...

whatever you want,
whatever you need...

We're here to help you
finish this, Sean.

There's something
I gotta do first.

Thanks.

Wow.

A cat fall on your head?

- Did you bring the sugar?
- No, I didn't bring you sugar.

I just came here
for one thing.

You're so mean.

I'm sorry about
your Uncle Brian.

- I read what they wrote about him in OFI.
- Yeah.

He seemed like
he was very nice.

I just met him once.

So, what's your one thing?

The two arson pros
that came to see you,

who were they workin' for?

Which foreign
intelligence agency

were they gonna sell
that package to?

Russians? Chinese?

Really?

Wow.

They didn't say anything
about that to me.

Okay, well,
what did they want?

What did...

They just wanted what
all would-be dragon tamers want.

They wanted an opportunity
to sit with the man they know

knows how to converse
with the dragon.

Hang on. Did you help them
with the Lincoln Park fire?

Sean, no! No!

I-I have a reputation.

I just talked to them
about the dragon.

Okay, so how were they gonna ship
their package out of the country?

Package?

Why-Why would they
talk to me about that?

Because the language of
these people is fire, right?

Oh. They don't speak
the language of fire.

Not like we do.

Yeah, you and I don't speak
the same language.

Oh, come on, Sean.
Of course we do.

You love to speak with the dragon.
So do I.

And the dragon loves to speak with
us, and you know it.

And poor Rimgale.
That's all he ever wanted.

But the dragon
wouldn't dance for him.

It's true.

Just you and me, Sean.

When your Uncle Brian and
Rimgale came to see me in here...

they came to interview
the... the devil.

You knew that if you were ever
going to come in here to see me,

you knew it was your alter ego
that you'd be seeing.

You would be seeing...
another you.

Hi, another me.

All right, look,
just level with me.

How are they gettin'
the package out of Chicago?

I don't know anything about a package.
Nothing. Okay?

But I will share
a story with you,

if you will share
a story with me.

Goddamn it.
Listen to me, you son of a bitch.

This isn't a conversation,
okay?

All right.
What story?

Two guys walk into a building,
one walks out.

You know what?
Fuck you.

I told you at the hospital

that I still had
one more question to ask.

The answer that you give

could be very cleansing
for you, Sean.

He'd already lit his burn in the
church on West Haddon Street.

Yeah. I imagine it must have
been very beautiful.

It was over-thought.

Lot of show,
but you could tell by its yammering

that it was unstable enough to knock
out with the right counter fire.

So, I grabbed a gardener's
can of mixed fuel...

and I splashed
a response.

Just a little.

But enough that both fires
turned on each other,

away from the building,
and ate each other's tails.

Poof. Done.

And yet Wicek
was still consumed.

Yeah. He was.

So here's my question.

What did you feel...

when Wicek caught fire?

Did you want him to burn?

Did you want to burn them all?

You have no idea.

Oh. Oh, believe me.

I do.

I do. I do, Sean.

Those two men
with the pretend names,

they wanted my opinion
of their notion...

as to how they could best
trigger an "accidental" fire

at an exterior location.

Okay. What location?

Given the Kelvin required
for ignition was minimal,

given the constraint
of mixed fuel,

given the narrow diameter
piping,

given all of that...

I would suggest that you
go looking for a location...

with lots and lots of...

- propane.
- Propane.

You're gone so soon?

Our minds are very similar,

except, of course,
you're insane.

McCaffrey.

Our tracker started phonin' home
again for a few hours and then stopped.

It must have moved.

Good news,
it's also closer to a tower.

I e-mailed you a search radius.
It's a lot smaller this time.

All right, can you check the HAZMAT database
for any propane sources in the area?

What are you up to, Sean?

Look, I'm not gonna have
anybody else get hurt. Okay?

Sean? Sean, are you there?

Short-term container holding only.
Seventy-two hours max.

Shipping companies use it to stage
upcoming deliveries for the port.

All right, thanks, man.

It's missin' a screw.

Shit.

Took some doing.

Yeah, I bet.

Sniffs
missile propellant?

That's what the man said.

Oh, you'll, uh, you'll need
to find a battery for it,

and I was never here.

Thank you.

Just keep those dead kids
off my desk, huh?

Shipping to Nigeria?

There you are.

A lot of people
lookin' for you.

Come on. Come on. Come on.

What the hell
are you doing, Sean?

Surprise, surprise.
No diversion blast today.

What the hell's going on?

Should have gone off by now.

It should have
blown already.

They're not just gonna let us drive
through with the goddamn load.

Hey! Show me your hands!
Show me your fuckin' hands!

Now, get out the fuckin' truck.
Go! Move!

Come on!

Show me your fuckin' hands.
Walk towards me slowly.

Slowly. Keep comin'.
Walk towards me. Walk towards me!

You too, show me
your fuckin' hands.

Down, down, down. Down.

Keep those hands
where I can see them.

Tank's not gonna blow today, asshole.
You're both under arrest...

Stop!

God.

Maggie, no!

Oh, fuck!

Hey, asshole.

Do you really think
you can stop us?

Fuck you, man!

You wanna kill me?
Go ahead.

Maybe the missile's
in the container,

maybe it's halfway
to fuckin' China by now.

You'll never know.

You're full of shit.

Yeah?

Well, it wouldn't be
the first time.

Get up.

- Get up!
- Oh! Fuck.

Maggie, I'm sorry.
I'm sorry!

All this work,
five dead kids, huh?

Shut up!

My buyers see their kids die
all the time.

So what's a few American
brats to them, huh?

Ronald's an
interesting guy, huh?

Full of useful ways
of settin' fires.

Should've spoken to him sooner.

Ah! Ah! Fuck!

Rening! Rening!

- Sean.
- Oh, my God. Maggie, get up.

Get up. Come on!
You can make it.

You remembered it.

What?

My first name.

Isn't it beautiful?

You came back.

Mostly.

What are you doing?

Thinkin'.

About what?

Oh, maybe it wouldn't be
such a bad thing after all.

Be the first McCaffrey
to leave this job alive.

- You're gonna need a new place to live.
- Yep.

Still got that extra room.

Above your father's
restaurant?

We don't talk anymore,
remember?

Yeah.

But, um, there'll have to be,
you know, less burning things.

Yeah.

He got a name yet?

Well, if he had a name
he'd be mine. Right?

Engine 17, Truck 46, respond.

3700 West Madison Avenue,
two-story commercial structure,

fully-involved fire,
reports of flames through the roof.

Subtitles by explosiveskull