Original subtitles

I'm not an errand boy. I won't be ordered about.

We'd like you

to make this go away.

We know about Keen.

What she's saying.

That you're N13.

Elizabeth's gone,

and she's taken

something of mine with her.

I suppose you also

think that she's responsible

for The Freelancer's release.

There's always more

to the story.

Where is he?

The work of a man

who disguises his killings

in the headlines

of everyday tragedies.

The arrest that you

made earlier. Mason Dieterle.

He burned down

my friend's restaurant.

I just got off the phone with

the AUSA reviewing the case.

He told me that your friend

passed away from her injuries.

I'm sorry.

You promised me you wouldn't

do anything to Dieterle.

I need to know...

did you break that promise?

No, sir.

We've been formulating

those binary structures

you gave us for weeks

and... I think

we've done it.

We identified the exact

structure of the Novichok agent.

Pig, hog, runt...

sow...

boar.

My brother's mantra.

When he was a boy,

he collected glass pigs.

He knew everything

there was to know about them.

Which sidegroup

is this?

Ethoxy.

It's more stable.

Easier to spread.

Harder to detect.

And lethal when

it contacts the skin.

This compound is 10 times

more potent than VX.

If there's a deadlier

nerve agent on Earth,

I'm not aware of it.

Call our buyer

in Durres.

Tell him the order's ready

and to expect delivery

in 48 hours.

Pig, hog, runt...

sow...

boar.

The road not taken.

Beauty school?

Yes.

That young woman's

great passion

that her single father

just can't understand.

It pushes them apart.

But instead of insisting

that she understand him,

he enrolls in beauty school

as well

and learns

to better understand her.

I think you understand

Elizabeth.

Probably more

than you want to.

Well, I'm not her father.

Maybe if I were, I'd want to

understand her even better.

Perhaps she wouldn't be

so determined to kill me.

Morning, Dembe.

Good morning.

Coffee?

Please.

Something

smells delicious.

Meat and potato pie.

Dembe brought it back

from Sarajevo.

You should try a slice.

Like all good things,

it's sinfully bad for you.

You said

you had a case?

Yes.

Thanks to Dembe.

He brought home

more than Bosnian burek.

You know that Elizabeth

used an interpreter

to contract

a bounty hunter.

I found him

in Sarajevo.

An effective chap

of ill repute.

Naturally, I assumed

the hunter's bounty was me.

Unfortunately,

I was mistaken.

How is not being a target

unfortunate?

It's unfortunate because

each time I think

Elizabeth won't go

to a darker place, she does.

Elizabeth wanted the bounty

hunter to kill someone else?

Not kill. Find.

Someone she wanted

to work with.

And why is that

so dark?

Because the person she's working

with brokers chemical weapons.

I don't believe that.

Her name is Mary Bremmer.

I'm not familiar

with that name.

Neither was I.

The bounty hunter was

unable to locate her,

but he put together

a dossier for Elizabeth.

Dembe got a copy of it.

Why would she do this?

The same reason

she worked to get

The Freelancer

released from prison.

You don't know

that she did that.

No.

But I know her endgame...

to break me and then kill me.

I think it's safe to assume

that she's using

The Freelancer

and Chemical Mary

to accomplish that.

You think she's in business

with a mass murderer

and a war criminal?

As I said, it's all...

quite unfortunate.

On the bright side,

I'm going to have a meeting

with The Freelancer's

expensive new attorney.

Word on the street

is that his client's

acquired identity papers,

passports,

and that

he's back to work.

I want to know

what he's doing.

So we'll see what

his attorney has to say.

The dossier on Bremmer.

It's incomplete, but it should

give you a head start.

Not a good time.

I'm doing it now.

But this is it, Agent Keen.

Once your target is eliminated,

you and I are even.

I think what

you're doing is wrong.

You're only making things worse

for Keen by pursuing her.

Agent Park,

you can rest assured...

I've heard it all before.

It's a luxury to stand

on the moral high ground

and critique those of us

on the low ground.

A lot of people

do exactly that.

Until they need my help.

I'll never ask

for your help.

Mr. Cooper called with

a headsup. We have got a case.

Okay.

is that

about your friend?

I'm so sorry.

Me too.

It, It sounded like

it might have been arson.

Not "might." It was.

Are there suspects?

There was,

but he disappeared.

Have you talked

to Mr. Reddington?

I mean,

he can find anyone,

which, in this case,

it might help, right?

I mean, if he found

the arsonist, you know,

justice, scales, balancing,

that kind of thing.

But then on the downside,

you'd be in his debt,

and,

that is a record scratch

through your favorite song.

I mean,

can you even imagine?

What was it

you said earlier?

That I'd never ask

for your help.

No, that couldn't be it.

I mean, the irony...

it's crushing.

No.

I can't imagine.

Of course you can't

because this is, like,

horrendous advice,

which you are clearly

way too smart to take.

Anyway...

I'm really sorry

about your friend.

Will you help?

You're asking me

to make it all go away.

Say it.

Make it go away.

And if I do this,

you're aware

I may someday

ask for a favor in return?

You may come to wish you'd

accepted the consequences

of your actions here

instead.

Are we good?

He has a video of me

on his phone.

We'll take care of it.

Like you were never here.

Reddington refers to her

as Chemical Mary.

This I.D. is more than

15 years old,

but it's the most recent photo we have.

What we know is this... Mary Bremmer

is a former MIT professor

in pathobiological sciences

who was fired for

ethical misconduct in '02.

Apparently she questioned the appropriateness

of a chemicalweapons ban, reasoning that if

nuclear weapons are an

acceptable deterrent to war,

why not sarin gas?

There's always a market for that kind of crazy.

I mean, I assume she's found a way to monetize it.

Yeah.

The CIA thinks so.

According to Langley,

Bremmer supplied the weaponry

for the chlorine

carbomb massacre

in the Abu Sayda market.

As for the assassination

of Kim Jongnam,

Bremmer's role, if any,

is still being investigated.

I know. It doesn't seem possible.

Well, because

it's not possible.

Agent Keen would never work

with someone like this.

No, Agent Keen wouldn't.

But she's not an agent

anymore, is she?

Yeah, but you don't

know her like we do.

Maybe that's why I can see

what's really going on.

What's going on is hard.

On all of us.

But the only way to find out

what's really happening

is to find Agent Keen.

And right now

finding Mary Bremmer

is our best hope

of doing that.

Okay.

Intel placed Bremmer

in the Idlib Province in 2013,

supplying sarin to Assad forces.

Now, a NATO operation

intercepted her convoy.

Bremmer's vehicle was overturned during the attack.

Now, the shipment was stopped,

but Bremmer escaped

and hasn't been seen since.

Bremmer's entire security detail was killed,

except for one man...

Ismael Aknoz.

At the time,

Aknoz refused to give

any information on Bremmer,

but after eight years

of isolation

in an FType prison in Ankara,

maybe he'll be ready to talk.

Ismael Aknoz? FBI.

We'd like to talk to you

about Mary Bremmer.

Well. This has

been productive.

We know

you speak English.

You want Bremmer.

So do I.

Nothing would give me more

happiness than to see her dead.

Okay. Great. You help us find her,

and we'd be happy

to oblige you.

Why do you want

to see her dead?

What difference does it make?

You were her partner.

In her convoy.

Why should we trust you?

It's her fault I'm here.

So she forced you to

transport chemical weapons?

We did not know

they were chemical weapons.

She told us we were moving

antitank missiles.

So she lied to you, which is

why you're gonna help us.

Thank you. No.

I hate her, yes.

But Americans?

I hate you more.

We knew you spoke English

because our boss

spoke with the Ministry of Justice.

Now, you work with us,

and they agreed

to move you

out of isolation.

We're offering you a gift.

No matter how much you hate us,

you should take it.

Your allied forces...

they could have stopped us

that day.

Arrested us, peacefully.

Instead, they set up an ambush

with an IED

and started shooting.

Taking the weapons

wasn't enough.

They wanted to make

an example of us.

And to do that...

they were willing

to slaughter us.

Take your "gift" and go.

Who let you in here?!

Your assistant.

Lovely fellow. Not very savvy.

Probably not best utilized

as the gatekeeper.

Perhaps better suited

to make coffee, chitchat.

I know who you are.

Tell me, when you go

on a business trip,

do you charge by the hour

while you're on the plane?

Or in the car

to the hotel?

Or how about when

you're enjoying

the adult entertainment

in your room?

Is your client

paying $1,000 an hour

for every hour or minute

that you masturbate?

My goodness. And the world

thinks I'm a criminal.

What do you want?

For Dick the Butcher

to have succeeded.

"Henry IV, Part 2,"

Act IV, scene II.

You've heard it.

"The first thing we do,

let's kill all the lawyers."

You seem like an appropriately

loathsome place to start.

Luckily for you, I want to know

where Alban Veseli is

more than I want to sully

my hands or reputation

by something so obvious

as disposing of you.

I don't know where he is.

But you know

how to contact him.

If I do that, how do I know

you won't kill me?

Because you still have

a debt to repay.

Elizabeth Keen paid you

to represent Veseli

with money

she stole from me.

I want it back.

You want me to give you back

my retainer.

Plus interest.

There's the phone.

Tell Alban his life

is in imminent danger,

that you can't discuss it over

the phone, and set a meeting.

I think this qualifies

as an emergency,

wouldn't you say, Scooter?

Look, I know we're jetlagged, so maybe

we're not making ourselves

clear. Aknoz was a dead end.

No, I know he didn't say anything.

So what part of "dead end" don't you understand?

He may not have said anything,

but I think

he told you a lot.

You have something?

I've been studying the photos

in the dossier that

Mr. Reddington gave us.

The bodies in the lead Humvee

from the convoy...

what do they all

have in common?

Other than being really dead.

Well, they're all burned.

You said Aknoz was, too.

That's what he told us.

He was disfigured.

Chemical burns?

No.

I think there may have been

an incendiary in the IED.

That Humvee burned

like a bonfire.

And Bremmer only escaped

after the explosion.

If everyone else was burned,

it stands to reason

that she was, too.

If so, she couldn't have gotten

far without any medical help.

Maybe burns like that will lead to hypovolemic shock

without timely

medical intervention.

It is a lifethreatening

condition.

Any legitimate physician

giving her aid

would have turned her over to the authorities.

So she found help

outside the established

medical community.

Dirtbag doctors without borders.

Sounds like a job

for Reddington.

Reach out to him,

see if he has

a medical contact

who knows the area.

Sir. The flash drive

that you gave me?

I got it back from my friend at the NSA.

Did he figure out

the passcode?

Please. He's not... He's not

that much smarter than me.

I mean, sure he knows pi

out two more places,

but should

one quinquadragintillion

really determine who has to buy

the hot wings on bridge night?

I don't think so.

So he couldn't open it?

Sorry.

Not technically, no.

He couldn't read the data,

but he was able to use

a USB traffic sniffer

to see the operation commands

which bear the signature

of a known hacker.

She goes by the name

of Rakitin.

And when I say, "she,"

I don't mean she's a woman.

I mean, she could be.

or a man.

I'm... I'm trying to

alternative pronouns

instead of defaulting

to the generic "he"

to represent

a man or a woman.

Rakitin could be

a he or a she.

Or a they.

This is good.

We know who the hacker is,

but we still need

to find out what he...

or she... hacked.

And we won't know that

until you crack the passcode.

Right. I'm on it.

Tell your NSA friend

he did good work.

And buy hot wings for the month?

Yeah... I don't think so.

And they know

to call us right away?

Yes. They do.

The minute The Freelancer

sets foot on U.S. soil,

we'll know.

Good morning!

Would you please tell

Dr. Grundig

that Lloyd Wilke is here?

Do you have

an appointment?

Mine is a lifetime

appointment.

What a pleasant surprise.

Quite the environment

you've created here, Mickey.

I can't tell if I'm in a waiting

room or a gentlemen's club.

My mouth is positively watering

for a smokey singlemalt

and a smoothdraw

Tatuaje Fausto.

Well, a good first impression is imperative

to setting the tone for

a satisfied patient experience.

Hah! My goodness.

How far you've come.

You know they used to

call Mickey here

the BackRoom Butcher?

If there was

a cash payment involved,

he'd operate,

no questions asked.

Colleen, the break room could

use a fresh pot of coffee.

You mind?

There wasn't a medical

procedure in the book

you wouldn't perform...

or at least try to.

Of course that was after

they stripped your license.

Cocaine, was it?

But you kicked that

and saved up enough

to buy a brandnew identity

from me and look at you now!

Raymond. Please. If any of this ever got out...

Well, it doesn't have to.

Listen.

I'm looking for a woman

named Mary Bremmer.

Three years ago,

she had a mishap

near the SyrianTurkish

border.

Suffered terrible burns

requiring the kind of

discrete medical care

you once provided.

I don't know her.

But I suspect you may know

the sawbones who treated her.

You want me to sell out

another doctor?

Well, if it makes you feel

any better,

the patient trades

in chemical weapons.

She's a scourge

on the human race.

Help me find her,

and your past...

remains in the past.

I require a demonstration

before I commit

such significant resources.

I hope you don't mind.

Not at all.

I expected as much.

If, one of your men

would retrieve the briefcase

in my trunk?

Bujare.

What is wrong?

You asked for

a demonstration.

I'm giving you one.

Thanks to Mr. Reddington, we got the identity

of the physician who treated Mary Bremmer.

Yeah, but in Turkey.

It's gonna take us months

to obtain a search

and seizure there.

Given that his records may hold the key

to our tracking a purveyor of banned weapons,

Main Justice

authorized a shortcut

by working with

Turkish intelligence.

Hacking

his medical records.

So you were right.

She was burned in the Humvee.

Badly enough to require

multiple skin grafts

as well as personalized prosthetics.

Now, these photos were

taken within a few days of the incident.

But these...

were taken a year later.

No wonder

we couldn't find her.

We ran her current looks

through the Interpol database.

What did it kick back?

A single touch

or an inhaled droplet

disrupts the nerve signals

to his muscles,

his heart, and lungs.

In a matter of seconds,

breathing will not

be option.

Six nationalities.

Six aliases.

All active, but according

to passportcontrol archives,

the last one she used

was yesterday.

In Paris.

Madeline Toussaint.

Remarkable.

The delivery system?

One drop on the key fob

was all it took.

Odorless, invisible.

Lasts for days

on any hard surface.

Or load it into a crop duster

and take out a town.

It's up to you.

Killing's

never been easier.

For the last nine months,

Mary Bremmer's been living

as Madeline Toussaint

in the Batignolles district

of Paris.

She has a cover job as a quality

engineer at a chemical plant.

Contact Interpol. Have them issue a Red Notice

for Bremmer's conditional arrest and extradition

based on our charges.

Then let's get a team

to Paris.

I'll go to Paris.

I need your help

with that passcode.

Well, I could look for it in Paris.

You know, sidewalk café, pot of

coffee, couple'a croissants.

I'm on my way to Capitol Hill

to ask about Rakitin.

I doubt I'll get much traction

until you find out

what's on that drive.

I guess that's a no on that coffee and croissants.

We'll say hi to Mona Lisa

for you.

Thank you for taking the time, Congressman.

Always happy to make time

for the FBI.

Though I am surprised

there was no headsup

what you wanted to talk about. Please, sit.

Take a load off and tell me

what is so hushhush

I get an Assistant Director

to make a house call.

A hacker who goes

by the name Rakitin.

Never heard of him.

Excuse me?

Anything else?

Because I got a local Elks Club waiting to take a photo.

Congressman. You chair

the House Intel Committee.

I've read your report

on Russian cyber intrusion.

I know you know

who Rakitin is.

What I know is your title.

What I don't know is what you do

because no one would tell me.

Yeah, I chair

the Intel Committee,

but for some reason,

I can't get any intel on you.

I run a classified

task force.

That's interested in Rakitin.

Why would that surprise you?

I doesn't.

It troubles me.

Rakitin has friends

in high places.

I want to make sure

I'm not talking to one.

I'm sorry. I'm...

I'm completely confused.

Three weeks ago,

the hard drive

on my committee's computer

was hacked.

All the intel we had on Rakitin was destroyed.

I had no idea.

My top staffer on the committee

disappeared

the day it happened.

Vanished into thin air.

And she was a patriot.

A good person.

But someone got to her.

And if they got to her,

maybe they got to you.

Maybe you're here to see

what I know about Rakitin,

and if I know too much,

maybe you're gonna want

to erase my hard drive.

Here's a name and a number.

Call it. Ask about me.

If you're satisfied with what

you hear, we can talk more.

If not, thank you

for your time.

I'm sure it seems like

I'm being overly paranoid.

If we do talk, I'd like to

hear more about that hack.

I have some paranoia

of my own

about who might

have been behind it.

Rogelio.

I hear you have news.

A location...

and a room number.

A youth hostel.

How unexpectedly romantic.

Is there anywhere you

don't have eyes and ears?

I got either a maid, a waiter,

a waitress, a busboy,

or a bellhop

in every corner of the city.

Thank you, my friend.

And please give my regards

to Carlos.

Unfortunately,

he's been deported... again.

And your friend's tunnel

in Calexico has been shut down.

The goingson

at the border.

One side builds,

the other shuts down.

They hide, they seek,

they come, they go.

It's all so...

"Tom and Jerry."

Yes, the tunnel

is closed,

but the submarine

is fully operational.

And for tracking down

Alban Veseli,

it will always be

at your disposal.

I once had a brief dustup

with an Armenian fellow

who took umbrage

at my acquisition

of a pipeline

outside Kajaran.

I tried to avoid him

by hiding out in a hostel.

You "tried."

Did he find you? No.

But after three days of communal

showers and curdled yogurt,

James Taylor wannabes,

I couldn't stand it anymore.

So I stole a backpack

and a Fodor's Guide

and hiked to Turkey

through the Armenian Highlands.

The Highlands.

Mount Ararat.

Yes.

And FYI... no Ark.

Some things

never change.

No cameras. No security.

Smart place to lay low.

Not here.

Running in a towel

never ends well.

Put some pants on,

and let's talk.

I did as you suggested, Mr. Cooper.

Checked up on you with Cynthia Panabaker.

A straight arrow

if ever there was one.

She likes you.

Does she, now?

Well, she said,

"He won't pee on your leg

and tell you

it's rainin'."

Sounds like Cynthia.

You said before

that you were looking

for information

about Rakitin.

I'm curious what your committee

knows about him.

Not a hell of a lot,

to be honest.

We don't have an I.D.

Hell, Rakitin could be an entire

hacker group for all we know.

But he's using a series

of servers in Volgograd,

and he is targeting some of our

most carefully guarded secrets.

Such as...?

The identities

of CIA assets

in Yasenevo...

their funding sources,

hacks of our own internal

threat assessments.

What does he do

with this intel?

There are a lot

of theories.

NSA thinks he's

a blackmarket profiteer.

CIA's convinced

he's a turncoat.

And what do you think?

Have you ever heard

of N13?

Sleeper agent.

A Russian asset who vanished during the Cold War

and was never proven

to exist.

It's a 30yearold

ghost story.

What if it's not?

What if that asset

is here?

Not only active

and deeply embedded,

but maneuvering

within our intel community?

I don't know whose trust

he might have gained...

CIA, Defense Intelligence...

God forbid, the FBI.

But I think he's been here

a long time.

Long enough,

he's become one of us.

And he's using us.

You think Rakitin's feeding

active intel to N13.

I do.

I think I'm the only man on this hill

who may believe your ghost story

about a Russian spy.

Go on.

We've recently intercepted

a thumb drive

containing sensitive intel

we believe

was obtained by Rakitin.

I suspect he intended to

deliver that drive to N13.

Why do you say that?

Did anything on the drive

identify N13?

All I can say is our source

believes it was intended

for someone

on our Most Wanted List.

Well, whoever your source is,

he or she is way off base.

I'm telling you...

N13 is buried

deep within

the U.S. government.

That said, I strongly encourage

you to follow up on it.

Based on what I know

of Rakitin,

he and N13 pose an imminent

threat to national security.

I must admit I'm surprised

you took this contract, Alban.

I'd never pretend

to call us friends,

but we are

professional associates.

It's a job.

Unbridled resentment. Is that

what this is all about?

You somehow blame me

for you going to prison.

You are why

I went to prison.

You went to prison because

you were caught doing a job

I hired you to do.

Don't blame me for your

failed cutandrun.

I've been in that box

for seven years.

And now you're out.

Because of Elizabeth Keen.

That is why you're aligned

with her, isn't it?

You bear me resentment

for your failure,

and now you both

want me dead?

What's he

so worked up about?

Talk to me about Agent Keen.

Tell me where I can find her.

No idea.

Raymond.

You just flew in from Paris.

What were you doing there?

Taking a tour of

the Temple de l'Amour?

Strolling along

the Canal SaintMartin?

What do you think?

I was setting up the job.

I have no plans

to be in France.

So?

So how were you going to

carry out your contract?

What's wrong with him?

How were you going to kill me?

The contract's not on you.

Who were you hired

to kill?

Madeline Toussaint.

At least that's the name

she's using right now.

This is the address she gave her current employer.

If she's here, we're gonna have

to make the provisional arrest.

You can file for extradition afterward.

We're just here

for backup.

Where is she?

She's visiting an aunt

in Albania. She'll be

back later today.

Gun!

Hang on. We'll get help.

She's dead.

You know how much I love

I told you so, Harold,

so I confirmed the fact

straight from the source.

Elizabeth sprung The Freelancer

so she could engage

his services.

I refuse

to believe that.

Alban Veseli cloaks

assassination in mass murder.

I don't care

how far she's slipped,

Agent Keen would never use

The Freelancer to kill you.

You're halfright. She didn't

hire him to kill me.

She hired him

to kill Chemical Mary.

Mary Bremmer. Why?

I'm not sure.

I'm hoping

a slightly more creative

line of questioning will

persuade him to reveal his plan.

But one thing is clear...

it's already in motion.

Ressler's at Bremmer's

residence in Paris now.

She's apparently flying back

from Albania today.

A transcontinental flight

filled with innocent passengers?

We're contacting

the airlines now.

Merci!

Move swiftly, Harold.

If Mary Bremmer

boards that plane...

I'll bet you

nickels to navy beans

the only way it comes down

is in pieces.

We got a hit on one

of Bremmer's passports.

She's currently en route to France on Parisian Air.

Okay. We're 10 minutes from Charles de Gaulle.

How long before she lands?

About a half an hour,

but we have to assume

that plane won't land.

There are 162 passengers

on board, including families.

And he'll kill everyone. Wait.

I thought The Freelancer was going after Reddington.

That's what we all thought.

Alright. The airline's confirming that Bremmer's

on the boardedpassenger manifest.

So Keen's taking out

a chemical arms trader...

air hugs for that... but she's gonna waste a plane

full of passengers

in the process?

Have the airport authority

prepare for contingencies...

rescue units, medics.

You know the routine.

Okay. Thank you.

I've got the tower.

I've got airtraffic control on the line.

Call me

when you're on site.

Copy that.

Hello. This is Harold Cooper.

I'm the Assistant Director of the FBI

calling from

Washington, D.C.

Stephan Gervais. ATC Supervisor.

What's going on?

We have a credible threat that someone's trying

to bring down

Parisian Air flight 2419.

Really? How?

Well, we don't know

that yet, Stephan.

We need your help

figuring it out.

Parisian Air 241 niner.

Are you currently experiencing

any problems

or equipment malfunctions?

Negative, Tower. Everything is

showing normal at this time.

Anything unusual show up

in your preflight checklist?

Nothing.

May I ask why?

Switch to discrete

frequency 133.6.

What do you want me to tell them?

Should they be

looking for a bomb?

Suspect engages

in terrorist activities

disguised as accidents.

It's doubtful he'd use explosives.

Okay, he was physically

on that plane.

Airport security has footage of him entering the cabin

along with

the cleaning crew.

Tower, is there anything

we should be worried about up here?

We've just begun

our descent.

Stand by. One moment.

They just started

their descent.

The instrument panel.

What about it?

Seven years ago, Veseli

derailed a passenger trail

by making it hit

a curve too fast.

Clear! Clear out!

He did that by rigging

the two speeddata sources

in the control cabin to show the train traveling

at a slower speed

than its actual rate.

Can your pilots check their

controls for signs of tampering?

Parisian Air 241 niner,

it's possible

your flight controls have been

physically compromised.

Can you take

a careful look around?

Roger. Stand by, Tower.

There is a thumb drive here. We got something.

Someone left a thumb drive

inside the Data Loader.

There's a panel

inside the cockpit

for software

and database updates.

Someone left a thumb drive inside.

Which could be corrupting their instruments

or running

its own scripts.

No.

You said the plane's

making its approach.

Are your tracking systems

showing anything unusual?

Our GPS system is based

entirely on information

transmitted to us

from the aircraft.

If that plane isn't where it should be right now,

we would not know it

from down here.

Okay, that data stick wasn't left there by accident.

It is a bruteforce attack.

Take it out! Take it out now!

Parisian Air 241 niner.

Remove the drive

from the Data Loader.

I repeat! Remove the drive!

Copy, Tower.

Warning.

Warning.

Warning.

Autopilot off!

Flight directors off.

What's going on?

They're too low.

Immediate right turn!

Heading 23zero!

Traffic is directly

in front of you!

I have control!

Ladies and gentlemen,

I'm terribly sorry

for that sudden shift

in altitude.

We obviously had an incident,

but we are safe and on course

and will be landing shortly.

What's happening?!

Are... are they dying?

No, sir.

I believe those are

cries of celebration.

Tower.

Parisian Air 241 niner.

We are clear of the traffic

and climbing to 8,000.

We will be begin

our approach for landing.

[ Woman on P.A.

[ speaking French ]

Excuse me.

A passenger. Mary Bremmer?

That's it.

That's everyone.

Are you sure? Feel free to take a look,

but I checked the cabins

personally.

There's no one left

on the plane.

She made it

to the airport,

but she was abducted outside the terminal.

What about

the passenger manifest?

You said it showed her

on board.

Shortly after

Bremmer was taken,

an unidentified woman

entered the terminal

with her passport and ticket,

which was slipped into the purse

of an unsuspecting passenger

at the gate.

The unidentified woman

then left the terminal,

and the passenger boarded

the flight as Bremmer.

This "unidentified woman."

She look familiar to you?

These are the best images

we could pull, but, yes...

we believe it's Keen.

So, Elizabeth conducted

an operatic performance,

getting an assassin

out of prison,

elaborately sabotaging

a commercial airliner,

only to snatch her target

from the jaws of death

at the last second?

Perhaps she wanted

the world to believe

Bremmer died

in that crash.

To what end?

I can't fathom.

It's more likely

Elizabeth wanted

Bremmer to think

she saved her life,

which would put Bremmer

in Elizabeth's debt.

Whatever they're

working on,

we're gonna make it

as difficult as possible.

Our people are combing through

Bremmer's flat in Paris

and have ID'd

a number of associates.

Teams are en route

as we speak.

I still can't get over

the fact that Elizabeth

was willing to let

The Freelancer crash two planes.

I was holding out hope for her. We all were.

But now? It seems she's past

the point of no return.

Turn around!

Give me your hands!

I'll try to leave the

moralizing to you, Harold.

In the meantime, perhaps

this will ease your pain.

Tell Donald to pay a visit

to this address.

What is this?

Your team worked

very hard to put

The Freelancer behind bars

the first time around.

I think that's probably

the right place for him.

Thank you for the Scotch.

Whoa, whoa. Easy, brah.

The man in the hat

said the popo would be here.

Why does this feel like

an empty victory?

Because this guy

has no idea

what Keen's up to

with Chemical Mary.

Open this door right now!

I want to see her!

Where is she?! The woman!

I want to talk to her!

Do you hear me?!

Open this door right now!

I want to see her!

Angela is the one

you were asking about.

She's the one who told me

that Veseli was at the hostel.

Angela, I can't

thank you enough.

I just have one question.

I need to know how you came

by this valuable information.

It was...

a woman.

This woman?

I, asked her

how she know that

I was looking for him.

She wouldn't say.

Gracias.

And your cousin Carlos.

I'm told he's somewhere under

the Gulf of Mexico as we speak.

Muchas gracias, Raymond.

If there's anything

I can do for you...

You've done more than you know.

And all to the good.

Well, that's a load off.

Elizabeth wanted you

to find The Freelancer.

Yeah.

Knowing that when we did,

we'd work with the FBI

to stop him from

crashing that plane.

So she hires a lawyer

to obtain Veseli's freedom,

pays Veseli

to crash a plane,

uses the threat of that crash

to gain Chemical Mary's trust,

gives us intel to keep

the plane from going down.

Sounds like

one of your plans.

It doesn't, doesn't it?

She may not be interested

in crash a plane,

but she's still in business

with a war criminal.

Tomorrow's problem.

Tonight, we savor

the small victory.

And we should tell Edward

to fuel the jet.

We need to pay our friend

in Moscow a visit.

Hi.

Um, sir, sorry to...

It's, late, and,

you're drinking... alone...

which is... which is, fine.

I mean, I can...

What is it?

Good news on the passcode.

You cracked it.

What? No.

That would be great news, like miraculously great.

No. The good news is

I figured out how to crack it.

With this.

I don't think Rakitin chose a steel flash drive

to protect his software.

If I'm right, there's

a capacitive scanner

hidden in the flash drive.

It is the best security platform

in passwordless identification.

So there's no password.

It's biometric. And that

is where this comes in.

Get the print,

put it in, and...

...open sesame.

Or, um, you know,

some less

politically incorrect

exclamation.

So all I need

is a fingerprint.

And that is where

the miracle comes in.

Figuring out

whose print to use.

Thank you, Aram.

Here's hoping

for a miracle.

Raymond!

Thank you for coming.

We have much to discuss.

I am told Rakitin

is in play.

My safe deposit box

was compromised.

The flash drive

I entrusted you with?

I'm still looking for it.

No doubt we have

Elizabeth Keen to thank

for it going missing.

My position in regard to her

has not changed.

I understand.

She is untouchable.

But you must understand...

Harold Cooper is not.

Will miracles never cease?

If he gains access

to the Rakitin files,

you'll have to

eliminate him.

I understand.