All language subtitles for Elementary S03E20 A Stitch in Time.en

WATSON:
Previously on Elementary...

Hannah,
the guy laid hands on you.

I am not nine years old
anymore, Dad.

I want to be promoted
just as bad as the next cop,

and I'm not just talking
about Detective.

I want to be Captain someday,
like you.

But it's never gonna happen
if people look at me

and they see "victim."

HOLMES (on phone):
Watson, you still over there?

Yes, I'm still here,

because I can't go home,
because of you.

Why did you bring the bees
in the house anyway?

Varroa mites are a pernicious
threat to the colony.

I intended
a thorough inspection,

as well as an application
of baker's sugar

as a preventative measure.

My thoughts were concerned
with colony collapse.

I failed to see
the more urgent threat

of table collapse.

Wait a second.

You're not talking
about my table, are you?

The one that I bought
for my apartment?

Two hours should be sufficient
to return the hive to stasis.

I'll be in touch.

(sighs)
Do you have a roommate?

Nah.
Don't get one.
Ever.

Trouble in paradise?

Well, nothing a good
exterminator couldn't solve.

Tonight still
a good night to talk?

Yeah, let's just
get out of here.

I need coffee that
wasn't made by a cop.

HANNAH:
Three neighborhood
drugstores,

all in my precinct,

all robbed in
the last month.

None of the stores
had security cameras

but all the robberies
took place

right when the owners were
closing up for the night.

Descriptions of the perps
match in all three,

and also, they only took
prescription pills.

High street value.
Oxy, hydrocodone.

Sounds like it was all done
by the same crew.

I've been re-interviewing
witnesses,

putting in extra hours,

keeping an eye
on the other stores.

But, uh...
I'm not making much headway.

Is there a detective
on this case?

Hanford.

I'm not trying
to step on his toes, I'm...

I don't want to be
disrespectful, but...

...but his plate's
kind of full right now.

It's my neighborhood.

My partner and I, we...

we have to look these people

in the eye every day.

They're scared.

It would,
it would mean a lot to them--

a lot to me--
if I could bring this one home.

All right.

I'll take a look.

Um, I'll let you know
if anything comes up.

MAN:
I know it's late here.

Uh, well, you wanted
to go to school out west, no?

Or is it just that
I'm keeping you from a party?

(tires screeching)

Hey, I'm-I'm sorry.

Yeah, some drunk
and he almost hit me.

No, no, no, no,
I'm fine, I'm fine.

I guess the bars
must be letting out.

(crossing bell clanging)

What the hell?

(honks horn)

(train horn blaring
from distance)

Hey!

Hey!

Hey, man, what's wrong?

Let's go.

(train horn continues blaring)

(grunts)

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What a drunk idiot.

I tell you, man...

you had an angel
looking out for you tonight.

You said
you knew this guy.

I was an admirer.

Garrison Boyd
was president

of the Five Boroughs
Skeptics Association.

He was a debunker
of the highest order.

He was a bright
light of reason

in a sea of gullibility
and magical thought.

He was a professional doubter.

Of...?

Pseudoscience,
the paranormal,

organized religion--
all the usual bollocks.

He wrote a blog that
I rather enjoyed.

Did he believe in crowbars?

'Cause I'm pretty sure

that's what caved
his skull in.

You put the time of death
at approximately one hour

before his car was found.

I'm guessing whoever killed him

was hoping that
the impact of the train

would hide the real
cause of death.

It says here
you removed

a small, conical object from
beneath his right eye socket.

After he was struck,
he fell forward.

This got wedged
under his eye

on the way down.

Don't know
what it is, yet,

but I'm sending it
to the lab.
It's the tip of a hat.

You are familiar
with the vile practice

of lawn ornamentation?

The worst offenders
employ garden gnomes,

yea big, white beards...

Pointy red hats.
If he wasn't
so dead,

I suspect Mr. Boyd
would find it ironic

that a diminutive wood spirit

played a role in his murder.

He was particularly aggressive
in his pursuit of those

who sought to profit
from their hoaxes,

so... perhaps his persistence

is the reason
he now lies here.

You really think being debunked
is a reason to kill somebody?

Some of the most aggressive
correspondence on his Web site

came from local
ghost tour operators,

hawkers of phony
medical cures...

I think one recent
exposé target

might have not so much
a reasonable motive for murder

as a lower standard
for committing one.

'Cause he's almost
certainly insane.

(door opens)

I won't pretend
that Mr. Boyd and I

didn't have
a contentious relationship.

He took issue with the church
on more than one occasion.

You mean, he took
issue with your cult.

He misused that
term, as well.

That's just the kind of rigid,
closed-minded thinking

that I preach against here.

At one time or another,

every great religion
has been attacked

as a cult.
Mm.

So have most cults.

Excuse me for a minute,
would you?

Where are you...?

Look, the victim published
almost two dozen

threatening responses
you sent him,

after he posted a few articles

criticizing the church's
recruitment methods.

Well, I have
the right to respond,

if somebody publishes lies about
what we're trying to do here.

You told Mr. Boyd
that his attacks had

begun a chain reaction
that would lead to

"his removal
from this physical reality."

We meditate here.

We practice energy transference.

So when I wrote to him,
I was merely

absorbing his hateful energy

and reflecting it back.

Did I harm him
physically? No.

Did I appeal
to the Quantum Source

for swift and final justice?
Perhaps.

In other words, you prayed
for the guy to die.

That's not a crime,
is it?

So we're done here.

The church held a 12-hour
service last night.

Attendance
was mandatory,

so no one here could have
killed Garrison Boyd.

We're just taking
your new friend's word for it?

Her name is Aria.
And yes, we are.

When it became clear
that this one

would do little more
than proselytize,

I scanned his herd
and realized that Aria

was having second thoughts
about being here.

Aria's a Level Three Conduit.

After a brief
conversation with Aria,

AKA Elizabeth Weinberg,

I was able to determine

that some unresolved
issues from her childhood

had led to a transference
of a need for structure

and discipline
onto Mr. Finn.

Elizabeth agreed, and
has forthwith terminated

her relationship
with your church.

What?
BELL:
So wait a second.

Are you saying
you deprogrammed her?

I would never use such a
rigid and closed-minded term.

She did, however, share
some useful information

on the church's methods.

Apparently, their
esteemed leader

likes to send
his acolytes out

to follow, photograph
and harass people

who dare to criticize him.

So she's currently
in your office,

e-mailing me the dossier
you compiled on Garrison Boyd.

I'm hopeful it will, uh,
shed some additional light

on his final days.

Ms. Weinberg is
leaving with us.

Any attempt to hinder her
return to her former life

will be met with an energy
transference most unpleasant.

Joan.

Oh, hey.

Heard you were helping
Hannah with something.

Yeah, there's been
some robberies

in her precinct.

She wants to help.

You sure
it's not a bother?

No, not at all.

I got into it
this morning

and now I'm
helping Sherlock

with this homicide
he's working.

Hmm.

Just make sure she knows

whose consultant
you really are.

All right.

So when were you
going to inform me

that we're assisting
Hannah Gregson on a case?

You could hear
all that?

We aren't helping her, okay?

I am.

And it's not a secret.

I'm just gonna run down
a lead or two.

It shouldn't take too much time.

It took time this morning.

So is this everything
from the church?

It is a testament to the
insidiousness of cult thinking:

A charismatic loon like Finn
warps impressionable minds

and then sends them
to stalk and harass.

And here I thought they just
sold flowers at the airport.

I find the practice repulsive,

but in this case, it may have
played in our favor.

Two cult members
were assigned

to Garrison Boyd
in the weeks before his murder.

Thanks to their long lenses
and meticulous

note-taking,
we may have

a person of interest...

a man by the name
of Collin Eisely.

EISELY:
I'm sorry,

I need to catch up
a little, here.

Have I been under
police surveillance?

No, those were taken by someone
who was interested in that man,

Garrison Boyd.

HOLMES: We have hundreds
of photographs of him,

in all manner
of activities,

Those, however,
are the only ones

where he appears to be in heated
altercation with a man

two days before he was murdered.

This guy was murdered?

Last night.

Do you want to tell us
how you knew him?

I didn't.

Uh... the day these were taken,

he was waiting for me
outside my building.

I'd never seen him before.

I'm confused.

Does being accosted by a lunatic
make me a murder suspect?

Well, that depends on
why he accosted you.

I'm in real estate.

Late last year, I looked

at some beach properties
out on Long Island.

I made this woman an offer
on her house, she said no.

A few months later,

this nut comes
out of the woodwork

and accuses me of trying
to scare her into moving.

Scare her how?

According to him,

she was hearing things
in her house.

Voices, banging,
I don't know.

She thought it was ghosts,
he thought it was me.
Was it?

(laughing):
Of course not.

She didn't want to sell,
I moved on-- end of story.

Ah.

I see you've
amassed, um,

quite an art collection
here, Mr. Eisely.

That's an interest that
requires a great deal of money

and a very
competitive spirit.

I imagine you're not
the sort of person

who takes "no"
for an answer very often.

I'm also not the sort

who goes around scaring
little old ladies.

Can you tell us
where you were last night

between the hours
of 10:00 p.m. and midnight?

At a retirement party
for a friend.

A few of us went out
for drinks after that.

I'll get you
their names and numbers.

If that guy was interested
in the property,

there's a possibility
that other developers were, too.

You're wondering if one
of them gaslit the owner,

then killed Boyd,
lest he expose them?

Makes more sense
than ghosts, doesn't it?

WOMAN: Well, I wouldn't say
"ghosts," plural.

It was my husband, Harry.

I know because
I heard him.

He was talking to me.

Your husband
passed away...?

Oh, coming up
on a year now.

We know that Colin Eisely
made an offer

on the house a few months ago.

Did anyone else approach you?

Yes, once, but-but that was
almost 20 years go.

I don't think that company is
even in business now.

Did you tell anyone else about
the voices you were hearing?

Only my daughter.
(chuckles)

She was the one who called
that poor man, Mr. Boyd.

And she wanted him to convince
me that I was imagining things.

She has such
a literal mind.

I've always told her
she should be more open.

So she didn't
hear the voice.

And she never heard any
of Harry's tantrums, either.

Tantrums?

He knocked some glasses

out of that cabinet there.

Lights flickered.

Sometimes, he shook
the whole house.

Oh, he was angry,
and he was letting me know.

And why would he
have been angry?

Sometimes we had
an open marriage.

Other times we didn't.

And when we didn't,

I did some things
that I never told him about.

And now that
he's dead,

he knows everything.

That's quite a one-two punch,
isn't it?

Discovering you're dead
and a cuckold.

It doesn't bother me
that you don't believe me.

I fear that I, too, may be
cursed with a literal mind.

If, however, you are not
experiencing delusions,

it may be possible
that someone is trying

to take advantage of you.

You said Harry spoke to you--
what did he say?

I have it on tape.

You could listen
for yourself.

The clearest I ever heard
Harry's voice was

when I was down here,

so I started leaving my
tape recorder on all the time.

You have to turn the volume all
the way up to hear his voice.

(man speaks indistinctly)

"Imm huh-rahn"?

No, no.

He's saying a name.

Jim Harmon.

That's the man I had
the affair with.

Harry really shook
the whole house that night.

And then he started
yelling Jim's name.

(tape rewinding)

(rewind stops, buttons click)

(man speaks indistinctly)

Well, do you still think
I'm imagining things?

I apologize,
Mrs. Renziger.

You most certainly
are not.

You mentioned that some
glasses were knocked

off the cabinet
upstairs.

That cabinet rests
against this wall, yes?

Yes, the living room
is right above it.

How well do you know
your neighbors?

Jerry and Paula?

They moved in here
about the same time as I did.

But they're snowbirds.

They won't be back from Florida
for a few more weeks.

Oh, uh, good neighbors
often exchange keys.

Are you a good neighbor,
Mrs. Renziger?

The voice on the recording
did not say "Jim Harmon,"

it said "im haram."

It's a common
Arabic obscenity.

So you think
that voice was coming

from all the way over here
in the neighbor's basement.

No, I think someone shortened
the distance considerably.

Along with the voice,
I heard a distinct banging

and a low rumbling
frequency on the recording.

That, along with the rest
of Mrs. Renziger's account,

the, uh, vibrations,
the flickering lights,

all suggest
that someone was employing

digging equipment near
the foundation of her home.

There were no signs
of digging outside,

So you think it was all
happening down here?

Is that a tunnel?

With a termination point

somewhere near the foundation
of Mrs. Renziger's home.

Why would someone
do all this,

dig from this
basement to hers?

I know a way to find out.

Did you find anything?

I have, indeed.

Mrs. Renziger was not visited
by her husband's ghost.

She may, however, have been
visited by terrorists.

Meet "Ruby."

She's a transatlantic
data cable.

The fastest
in the world

and a backbone of the
North American Internet.

She looks like
a garden hose.

It's a curse
of the modern age

that very significant things
appear commonplace.

Now, Ruby is one of
several undersea cables

which connects Europe
to the United States.

The full spectrum of commerce
and communication flows

through her optic fibers,

as well as the requisite glut
of pornography and cat videos.

And you knew that was
what that cable was how?

The location of such
cables is mapped.

They're accessible
with very little effort.

The intent is to avoid
entanglements

and utility mishaps,
but it also makes them

amongst the most vulnerable
terrorist targets in the world.

And this basement's probably a
pretty smart place to dig from.

And anywhere along the beach
would attract attention,

out in the ocean would
be a lot harder.

And the cable ties
into a landing house

another quarter
of a mile inland,

at which point security
increases markedly.

What our attackers did not
account for was

the intrusion of Garrison Boyd.

Right, so someone runs
tunneling equipment

out of the Ayers' basement while
they're away for the winter.

Mrs. Renziger
hears the noise

and thinks it's
her dead husband,

so her daughter asks
Boyd to prove otherwise,

and then Boyd finds all this,
same way you and Joan did?

This little fella was

amongst the gardening
equipment over there.

The tip of his hat is missing.

Mr. Boyd was murdered
in this room.

The killer loads the body
into Boyd's car,

drives it back into the city,
but then what?

Why not come back
and cut the cable?

Figured Boyd found them, someone
else might be coming, too?

HOLMES:
Perhaps.

Or perhaps the fact

that Ruby has not been cut

signals a much greater threat.

The Internet is designed
with redundancies.

Cutting a single cable would
no doubt cause some problems,

but a coordinated attack,

that could be crippling.

You think there might be other
guys digging up other cables,

waiting for a signal to
cut them all at once?

I think it's a possibility
that we should consider.

I'll reach out to DHS.

Let them know
what's going on.

I'll check back with you.

So, you were right.

Whoever dug that tunnel stuck
mostly to the basement.

But they did come up here
every now and then.

Yes, naturally.

If the man or men or women
were here to do arduous work,

the hours would have
been long.

They would have needed
to eat, hydrate

and, of course,
expel waste.

Toilet seat was up,
so I'm guessing

at least one
person was a "he."

Also we found this
in the fridge.

"Doogh."

Carbonated yogurt drink
popular in Arab countries.

It's hard to believe bubbling
yogurt is popular anywhere.

I figured it didn't
belong to the Ayers,

so I called the
American distributor.

No place on the
island sells it.

Six stores in
the city do.

They're e-mailing
me a list.

So assuming these stores
have surveillance cameras,

we can check their footage
from the last few weeks,

see if anyone
jumps out.

WATSON: Hannah, come in.

(door closes)

So I have good news.

Don't tell me
you solved it already.

Actually, you already
had all the pieces.

Now, you said that all three
drugstores were robbed

around closing time.

At first, I assumed
what you probably did.

That it was because closing is
when a store is most vulnerable.

No customers, fewer employees,
most cash on hand.

But in this case, there
was something else.

Now, two of the
pharmacists told you

that a candy machine
vendor had come by

just before
the robberies.

I checked,

and that same vendor has
machines in all three stores.

You think the vendor's
in on it.

He scopes out
the stores

and then tells his accomplices
if it's all clear.

A friend took these today.

Vending machine company
uses this warehouse

to store their inventory
and do repairs.

Look at these guys.

Height, hair color,
visible tattoos.

They match the descriptions
of the three perps.

They definitely don't look like
they're in the gumball business.

Hmm.

You found them.

I can't believe it.

I mean, I-I can.
I'm not surprised.

But thank you.

Odds are,

this is where they're storing
the stolen pills.

When you bring this
to Detective Hanford,

feel free to leave
my name out of it.

But my guess is, the
department's gonna want

to sit on this
place for a while.
Why?

As long as it
doesn't look like

another robbery
is imminent,

they're gonna want
to follow the drugs

up the food chain.
With the amount of pills

these guys are stealing, they
probably have help moving them.

So this could lead
to bigger fish.

(sighs)

It took no small amount
of negotiation, but I was able

to procure security footage
from each of the Doogh-selling

ethnic markets
that you identified.

Now, taking into account
the hours Claire Renziger

did and did not hear "ghosts,"

it would appear
that our tunneler kept hours

between 8:00 to 6:00.

So it stands to reason
that he bought his Doogh

and other provisions
at either the beginning

or the end of each day.

Oh, that's great.

It'll help us move
through these faster.

Assuming, of course, you're not
still splitting your time

between the tribulations
of a beat cop

and the hunt
for a likely terrorist.

May I remind you that "beat cop"
is our boss's daughter?

Is that why
you were helping her?

To curry favor?

I'm helping her
because she asked me.

What do you think of her?

Hannah?

She's nice.

I mean, what do you think of her
as an investigator?

Oh, she's green.

I mean, she's
dedicated.

She did all the legwork,

she just couldn't
connect all the dots.

Why?
Oh, it just confirms

a long-held suspicion.

She's middling.

Hold on, I did not say
she was "middling."

And that's sad, because she is
the daughter of a colleague

and he has certain aspirations
for her.
Excuse me,

but have you ever
even talked to Hannah?

Twice.
That's it?

And that all you needed
to size her up?

I also looked at her records.

Understand, Watson:

I think she's a perfectly
capable police officer.

She knows how to handle herself
in a confrontation

and she's first-rate
with a weapon.

What I fear she is not, however,
is a detective.

(scoffs)
Give me a break.

It's a calling, Watson;

no one knows that
better than you.

I learned because you taught me.

I taught you
because I saw something.

What if I told you
I see something in Hannah?

I would tell you
you're mistaken.

You know what?

I'll be in my room.

(exhales)

(line ringing)

HOLMES:
Thought I'd let you sleep in.

You found my notes?

Well, sort of
hard to miss.

Watched the video?

I take it this is our suspect?

Note the coveralls.

The tape that you're watching

records his fifth appearance
at the store

in a span of two weeks.

During that period of time,

his clothes get
progressively dirtier,

save for two rectangular spots
on his knees.

Presumably,
he wore some knee pads

while he was digging his tunnel.

Well, "presumably"
isn't "definitely."

He may just be a plumber.

And I see he didn't
use his credit card.

As is his wont. Unfortunately,
he can't be identified

via receipts.

The woman in the red coat,
however...

She knows him.

She paid with
her American Express.

Her name is Yolanda Massee

and I'm stepping
into her elevator as we speak.

I'll call you when I know more.

WOMAN:
Yes?

Hello. Ms. Massee?

My name is Sherlock Holmes.

I'm a consultant with
the New York Police Department.

I was hoping I might
ask you a few questions.

Do you have a badge?

I'm afraid I'm quite allergic

to iconography.
I was just--

I was hoping you might be able
to tell me this man's name.

(laughs)
Is this a joke?

No.

I think it's Nazim or Nadim...

I'm not really sure.

But you know him?

I don't know.

How well do you know
your neighbors?

He's your neighbor?

He lives right there.

I'd recommend you leave
your building right now.

What? Why?

'Cause your neighbor
heard us talking...

(alarm ringing)

...and he is currently dousing

his apartment with accelerant.

Go on!

Nadim? Or is it Nazim?

You might find this
hard to believe,

but I'm-I'm actually
here to help you.

Don't come any closer.

You're not a terrorist at all,
are you?

No.

Look, I'm open
to the possibility

that Garrison Boyd's death
was an accident.

He caught you unawares
and-and you panicked.

But if you drop that lighter,

you will be attempting murder
on the 200 or so other people

who live in this building.

(alarm continues ringing)

HOLMES:
This...

this contraption
was at the heart

of the drawings
on Nadim Al-Haj's walls.

I only had a moment
to absorb them before they were

engulfed in flames,

but it was clear
that he never intended

to sever the cable
that he excavated.

Rather, I think
his plan was

to splice this device onto it.

You think you can figure out
what it does?

I won't know for sure till
we cut off the melted plastic,

but hopefully, enough of the
circuitry inside is intact.

If I was a betting man,

I'd say that it was meant
to collect information

and transmit it elsewhere.

You're thinking this is
one big data grab.

GREGSON:
Why not hack into it

from a computer somewhere?

There's gotta be an easier way
than digging that tunnel.

Ask the NSA.

According to Edward Snowden,

U.S. intelligence agencies

routinely tap into these cables

upstream of their
official tie-ins

so they can better monitor
American citizens.

The first time Ruby
feeds aboveground

is at 60 Hudson,
downtown.

Big banks have a offices there
to get financial data first,

but it's also where a lot
of info gets encrypted

and after that,

it's harder to spy on.

Actually, digging a hole
on Long Island

makes a lot of sense.
GREGSON:
So you're saying

So you're saying my phone
might ring at any minute,

telling me this guy
works for our government?

Perhaps. Or a foreign one.
Or a corporation.

I mean, who in this day and age

does not view information
as power?

TECH:
Hopefully, the device

will tell us what information
the perp was capturing:

e-mails, trade secrets,
credit card numbers...

If we're lucky,
we'll even get an IP address

where it was being sent.

Then we'll have
a better idea of what

we're dealing with.

Nadim Al-Haj, born
in Iraq in 1978.

He emigrated to the U.S. in '06

and became a citizen
two years ago.

He was an electrical engineer
in his country,

but he's been working here as
a lineman for the cable company.

So he definitely
had the skills.

Yeah, a few
parking summonses,

but no criminal record
that I could find.

What's that about?

BELL:
Oh, you didn't hear?

Hannah made
a big collar

on her patrol this morning.

Everyone's been messing
with the captain over it.

Hmm. What'd she do?

She spotted a perp
who matched the description

off a few drugstore robberies
on her beat.

Now, he took off
into a warehouse,

she and her partner followed,
scooped him up

and found almost
200 grand worth of pills.

That's pretty lucky.

Well, that ain't luck.
That's DNA.

She's good.

I-- you know,
I just realized I forgot--

I have to run an errand.

I'll... just tell Sherlock
I'll catch up.

All right.

Captain...

this is all we could find
on Nadim Al-Haj.

It isn't much.

Finest message is out
on him and his van,

and Homeland Security's
issued a BOLO

to Port Authority,
Amtrak and TSA.

The apartment
Mr. Al-Haj occupied

is owned by
"The Collin Eisely Group"?

You know that name?
I do.

Watson and I paid a visit
to Collin Eisely yesterday.

He's a developer.

Several months ago,
he made a bid on the house

next to the one with the tunnel.

You mean the one that's actually
much closer to the cable?

HOLMES:
The man who murdered
Garrison Boyd

lives in a building
that you own.

What do you suppose

the odds are of that
being a coincidence?

I own several buildings,

which, together,
house hundreds of tenants.

It may surprise you to know

that I'm not on a first-name
basis with any of them.

It's interesting that
you should mention names,

because you changed yours,
did you not?

BELL:
Before you got
into real estate,

you were a stockbroker,
and until a few years ago,

your legal name
was Louis Eisely.

Collin was your middle name.

Now, we're guessing the
decision to change it

has something
to do with you

serving 18 months
for insider trading?

The name change was aboveboard;

I'm not breaking any laws.

My real estate dealings
go much more smoothly

when my criminal record

isn't the first thing
people learn about me.

I imagine they would.

Because Louis Eisely
was a particularly cutthroat

Wall Street trader.

From the early 2000s.

A man whose downfall,
at the height of his career,

made his name synonymous
with Wall Street greed.

I did my time.

Prison changed me.

I'm not so sure
that it did.

Trading in secrets
put you on top.

Does a man like you ever
really lose a taste for that?

You still haven't explained
what it is you think I did.

BELL:
You hired Nadim Al-Haj

to tap a transatlantic
data cable called Ruby.

Runs right past
Claire Renziger's basement.

So, first, you tried
to buy her house.

When she turned you down,

you had Al-Haj dig a tunnel

from next door, instead.

And why would I have done
any of that?

Because you have
a savant's talent

for turning information
into gold.

Ruby is the mother lode.

Tapping into her would give you
unfettered access

to a wealth of intelligence

with which to inform
your investment strategies.

That's actually brilliant.

I wish I had thought of it

back when I was trading.

I can't go near the market.

The FCC has banned me from
trading until the day I die.

By court order,
every dollar I have in stocks

is in a blind trust.
You can look it up.

Well, perhaps you're selling
the information for a price.

And keep the proceeds where?

In my mattress?

The Feds audit all my accounts.

I can't win at bingo
without them taking notice.

Gentlemen,

I have more important things
to do with my day.

You're fishing;

I'm not biting.

Hannah.

I just heard
the news.

Congratulations.

Thanks.

So, I thought it was interesting

how you just happened
to spot the suspect,

took a whole stash house down.

You said to leave
you out of it.

This is not about
credit, Hannah.

This is about
doing the right thing.

The right thing would've
been to kick it upstairs.

Let Hanford take it from there.

Right. Go after bigger fish.

So, why didn't you?

You and I both know

if I turned this
over to Hanford,

I would've ended up a
footnote in his report.

If it did lead to bigger
fish, not even that.

But you don't know that.
I do. 'Cause I'm a cop.

I've seen it.
I know how it works.

And I'm not a cop, right?

It's just different for me.

Sergeant's exam is coming up.

I get extra points
for commendations.

I thought you were doing this
to help the people on your beat.

Or is that just something
you thought I wanted to hear?

I did help them.

I got some bad guys
off the street.

Just not as many
as you could have.

You helped me
when I needed help.

I won't forget it.

WATSON:
Hey, I just ran

into Marcus downstairs.
He told me about Collin Eisley.

Sounds like it didn't go well.

I'm no less convinced
of his connection

to Garrison Boyd's murder.

You know,
because of his history,

Mr. Eisley's money
is in a blind trust.

Well, that means
he can't touch it, right?

More than that-- he can't
even know how it's managed.

Now, Eisley's trust is handled
by Robiskie Investments,

a second-tier
brokerage house at best.

I suspect more prominent firms
refused his business

because of the miasma
that still surrounds him.

His investments are all
in computer-traded funds,

which deliver a return far less
than the profits he once made.

That's got to burn.

Indeed.

A man who had spent
his entire life

exploiting weaknesses
in the financial system

would surely chafe
at such restrictions.

So, you thought he
wanted to tap into Ruby

in order to profit
off the information,

but there's no way he
can profit from it.

Or that I've found thus far.
But I'm confident that when TARU

deliver its report,
that mystery box is

gonna connect Eisley
to the crime.

In the meantime...

I found this.

A decade ago,
when Western companies

were pillaging Iraq's resources
in the name of reconstruction,

Eisley toured the oil fields

near Kirkuk.

That's Nadim Al-Haj.

Al-Haj was his driver.

He subsequently sponsored

his immigration into the U.S.

Now, "lived in his building"
could be written off to chance.

This cannot.

Hey, a senior technician
from TARU is on his way up.

Says he's got some news.

Parts of it were
pretty badly fused,

but we were able
to forensically reconstruct

most of the circuitry.
And?

It doesn't look
like it was meant

to transmit anything anywhere.

So, what was it supposed to do?

Well, that's the thing.
It doesn't store anything.

It doesn't re-route anything.

It doesn't change anything.

It's just a maze of circuits.

Data goes in one end
and comes out the other.

That's it.

So, someone went to all
the trouble of digging a tunnel,

exposing a transatlantic
Internet cable

and murdering a guy all so they
could attach a devise that...

Does absolutely nothing.

WATSON: I just got off
the phone with Marcus.

So far, Nadim Al-Haj has done a
pretty good job of disappearing.

He's gone to ground.

Knowing now he's
not a hardened terrorist,

I imagine he's quite afraid.

A murder and a flight
from the law

were not part of his plan.

Mason?

Hey.

I thought you were grounded.

From the Internet.

I mean, does this look
like the Internet to you?

So, where New York's
finest nerds failed,

you're hoping
yours will succeed?

No offense to TARU.

But the simple fact is

they must've missed something.

Nadim Al-Haj did not dig

a 50-foot tunnel in order
to install a plastic bauble

with as much function
as a Christmas light.

Until we find out
what the devise does,

we cannot connect
Collin Eisley to any crime.

So, I've solicited
a second opinion.

It's my hope that Mason
will find something

that the police
technicians missed.

I'm trying.

But don't hold you breath.

I'm running parity bit tests,

file compares,
metadata compares,

different character sets,
packet sizes...

You're running tests.

We get it.
(cell phone ringing)

(sighs)

I'm gonna get
something to eat.

Upstairs, may I presume
that was Hannah

that you sent to voicemail?

Yeah, I didn't think she
was gonna leave a message,

but she did.

She said she didn't feel great
about how we left things,

and wanted to thank me again.

I mean, she didn't really
come out and say it,

but I got the sense that what
she really wanted to know is

what I'm gonna tell the captain.

What are you gonna tell him?

I don't know. I mean...

he's gonna want to know
what happened, right?

She's a police officer,
but she's also his daughter.

Obviously the truth
will disappoint.

(sighs)

I should tell him.

You should not.

You've expended enough time
and effort on Hannah Gregson.

Telling him will
only embroil you further

and benefit no one.

Well, thanks for not
actually saying the words

"I told you so."

Well, for the record, I thought
she was a subpar investigator.

I'd no idea she was so cunning.

Anyway, I sent Mason
home for the night.

Thus far, his tests uphold
the dignity of the NYPD.

The stream of zeroes and ones
generated by his tests

entered one end of the device

and emerged a consistent formula
seconds later,

unchanged.

It is quite literally

a box that does nothing.

Unless that's the whole point.

What?

The four milliseconds

that doing nothing would take.

What difference would four
milliseconds make to anything?

In your world and
mine, none at all.

To a human being, it's a
imperceptible amount of time.

But the lion's share of
trading on Wall Street

happens automatically,
via computers.

And in their world,

milliseconds translate

to millions of dollars.

Ruby is the fastest
transatlantic cable

that there is.

Terminates on American
soil at 60 Hudson Street,

where, in order to extract
financial data first,

the top investment firms pay a
premium to house their servers.

Now, any company which
does not lease a space

at 60 Hudson is at
instant disadvantage.

Would you care to guess
which firm is not flush

with enough capital to
earn a spot at 60 Hudson?

WATSON:
Robiskie Investments.

They manage your blind trust.

Only their servers are
in a different building.

Their data comes in from a
slower transatlantic cable.

One that is usually
two milliseconds behind.

A market closes
halfway around the world,

currency drops,
a regime falls--

the news hurdles across
the globe at the speed of light.

The larger firms'
computers buy and sell

thousands of shares before
the one that holds your money

even gets the news.

BELL: So you planned
to turn the tables.

Slow Ruby down
by four milliseconds.

Suddenly the big firms are
the ones at a disadvantage.

Your blind trust would
start making more money.

And your hands would stay clean.

WATSON:
Other firms and clients

would benefit, too--
anyone who pulled their data

from a source other than Ruby.

But for a man pathologically
driven to play the game,

that's a small price to pay.

Might even be a plus.

Given that it would hide
your gains amongst the crowd.

You give me a lot of credit.

Like I said before--
it's a brilliant plan.

But... even if you're right,

you still have a problem.

You can't link me to any of it.

Well, when my colleagues and I

got together this morning,
I said the same thing.

I also asked about something
that's been bugging me.

When you first
hired Nadim Al-Haj,

the job didn't include murder.

Once he killed Garrison Boyd,
you must've promised him

a pretty big payday
to keep him quiet.

Especially with him going on
the run for who knows how long.

But with your finances
watched so closely,

how could you pay him?

When I crossed paths
with Mr. Al-Haj the other day,

he absconded
with a poster tube--

a conspicuous detail in itself,

given that he was so busy

destroying so much
other evidence.

I thought perhaps
he'd retained a keepsake--

some schematics,

some leverage to hold over you

should the need arise.

But when Detective Bell
raised his question,

I remembered noticing something
when we were here yesterday.

That's not the same painting
that was here

the first time we visited.

It was a Picasso.

Woman's Portrait.

Not well-known, but

even a lesser work
by the master

must be worth millions.

Is it here?

WATSON: We've already
reported it stolen.

No dealer is gonna touch it.

Al-Haj won't be able
to get a dime.

You tell us if we're wrong,
Mr. Eisley.

But we don't get the sense
he's a professional killer.

It's only a matter of time
before we find him.

And given that
his payday's going away,

it's a good bet that when we do,
he'll talk.

Now, you like to
make deals, right?

How about
before we find him,

you make one right now?

GREGSON:
Oh, Joan?

Hi.

Nice work today.

On the Eisley thing.

Oh, thanks.
Hmm.

I'll pass that on to Sherlock.

I'm sorry.

For what?

She told you?

You just seemed a little off
these last couple of days.

I know it wasn't the credit.

You and Holmes don't
care about that stuff, but...

whatever it was...

You know what?
She just got excited.

That's all.

I don't think
you should help her again.

She is what she is.

She wants what she wants.

I love her...

but I love this job, too.

The people who do it.

She's got to do better.

All right, good night.

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