All language subtitles for Prodigal Son S02E07

chances are you cross paths
with a hundred people a day.

Your barista, the guy standing
next to you on the subway.

Over the course of your life,
that means

you will cross paths
with 41 unapprehended murderers.

On average.

But out of those 41,

how many are true psychopaths?

I mean, anyone
could be a murderer.

Wrong place, wrong time.

An accident. An impulse.

Oh, God, Malcolm.
What happened?

But there's another type
of killer.

For them,
murder is an addiction.

A bad love they can't quit.

Truth is, anyone can do it once.

But the second kill,

that's when the switch
is flipped

and a serial killer is born.

I don't know what happened.
I blacked out again.

I'm sorry.

I didn't know where else to go.

It's okay.

We don't know what you did,
and it's not that much.

We need to get you cleaned up.

Breathe. Focus.

Think really hard.

- Can you remember anything?
- No.

No, not even a flash.

Malcolm, why didn't you tell me
sooner that I killed Endicott?

If I had known
what I was capable of,

- a-about my blackouts...
- You can't think like that.

I could've stopped this.

You're right, Ainsley.

I screwed up.

I think I did, too.

*PRODIGAL SON*
Season 02 Episode 07

Episode Title: "Face Value"
Aired on: March 02, 2021

- Hello?
- Oh, my boy!

It's Dad. Ugh.

I'm so glad I caught you
on this auspicious day.

Auspicious how?

Did you speak to Ainsley
last night?

No. Why would you ask?

It's nothing.

So, big day?

Oh, you betcha.

So, after mostly good behavior

and helping you catch
that lady killer in Claremont,

the powers-that-be
have finally given me a job.

A job?

I'm working in the infirmary!

Earning three dollars

and 20 cents a day.

It's modest, I know,
but... it's honest work.

And I do enjoy being needed.

Wonderful. Best of luck.

How are you feeling?

Like I've been hit
by a train. You?

Getting hit by a train
might be better.

What's wrong?

Uh...

- We caught a new case.
- Is it something

I could've done?

I can't believe
I actually have to ask that.

It doesn't sound like it,
but I should go.

Wha... You're leaving me?

The only advantage we have
is acting normal.

Also, if I go to work, I can try

and figure out
what happened last night.

- What am I supposed to do?
- Nothing.

Stay here,
you call in sick to work,

and don't talk to anyone.

Promise me.

Promise.

Yeah.

Hey. You look terrible.

Thanks. So, what do we have?

Vic is Dr. Nicole Zhang,

head of plastic surgery
at Saint Anthony's.

That's a public hospital.

They have a plastic surgery
department?

Everything's done
pro bono or at cost.

You don't get a condo in
this building working pro bono.

She made her money
in private practice.

Founded the Lexington Collective
with Fred Chabra

and Flynt Donahue.

Does all of the housewives.

So... just
one murder today?

What, one isn't doing it
for you anymore?

I could keep my ear

to the ground if you like.

Actually I could use your help
with something.

- Are you free...
- Yes.

He didn't even give a time.

Great. I'll, uh, swing by
the lab tonight?

It's a date.

Can we just focus on this case?

'Cause I think we're about
to have our hands full.

Oh, yeah, the... Yes.

Tell me more.

To put it in fun terms,
she was Botoxed to death.

I mean, i-in less fun terms,
her death was excruciating.

Based on the bruising,
this is the first injection.

I suspect that the killer dosed
Zhang with a paralytic agent.

So she was conscious
the whole time.

Which means this isn't just
murder, it was torture.

According to everyone
at Saint Anthony's,

this woman was an angel.

Awards say the same thing.

So, who would want to kill her?

Someone from before the awards.

Someone from her past.

There's nothing
from her private practice days,

even though it was
a massive success.

Which means
her decision to give back

may not have been arbitrary.

She could be atoning
for something.

But our killer knew the truth.

That's why they disfigured her.

To show us what she truly is.

A monster.

Wha... Wha...

Surprise.

Birdie.

Oh, I thought you were
still in Gstaad.

- Greece.
- Oh.

Ah. Stuck on a yacht
for all of quarantine.

- Aw.
- Total nightmare.

But now I'm back
in my favorite city

to visit my favorite big sister.

Let's set the town on fire.

Oh, fun. Just what nobody needs.

Why are you here, Birdie?

Ah. You sound suspicious.

I'm glad you caught that.

Darling, not everyone in your
life has a nefarious agenda.

Only the men you date.

Gosh, this is going
to be so fun.

So fun.

Ugh, it's good to be back
in my element.

The smell of antiseptic,
the clang of forceps.

And is... is that a hint
of butterscotch?

Is that Whitly?

The one and only.

Though it's...

actually Dr. Whitly.

I find it hard to believe
the board

didn't revoke your license.

Well, they did, but, uh,

they could never
revoke my joie de vivre.

You've been assigned janitorial
duties in my infirmary.

I have a one-strike policy.

So make sure
you don't kill anyone.

Or annoy me.

Wow, I like
that those violations

both carry equal weight
with you,

- Doctor...
- Capshaw.

Right.

Well, Dr. Capshaw,
my, uh, prolific well

of medical knowledge
is at your disposal.

Tether him to the sink
and remove his hand restraints.

I need you to clean
the prolific bedpans.

It's been a while,
so don't be shy.

You should be able
to eat your food

off them when you're done.

Can I at least
have a butterscotch?

What do you got?

I've been thinking about killers
who mutilate and torture.

So, a regular morning for you.

They all grew up
hating themselves.

Gacy for his sexuality,
Kearney for his height,

Miyazaki because of
a birth defect.

When they mutilated
their victims,

- it was projection.
- You think our killer is deformed?

Uh-huh. Or at least
they feel like they are.

Makes sense.

Sometimes the most
monstrous people

are the ones
hiding in plain sight.

Uh, excuse me.

Mother. Everything all right?

No, it is not.

We have an emergency.

What do you know?

Hurricane Birdie
has just flown in,

and that is never a good thing.

Oh. Well, can you get her
to leave?

Malcolm...

my sister is like
a fungal infection,

and I am way too annoyed

to construct
the end to this simile.

She is a problem.

And we do not need my family
poking around in our lives.

Especially with...

Right. Um, I have to go.

Murder stuff.

Then we will pick this up
tonight at dinner.

Ainsley, I will call you
if there is an update.

Nothing yet.

I keep hearing sirens
and helicopters.

It's New York. There are always
sirens and helicopters.

Hey.

Edrisa got toxicology back
on the paralytic

and the murder weapon.

You good?

- Hello? Are you there?
- Yeah.

- What about the toxicology?
- The paralytic

was surgical grade, and the
neurotoxin was a patented blend.

The Lexington Collective's
Radiance Solution?

So, the killer
literally gave Zhang

a taste of her own medicine.

Yeah, Gil wants us to talk

to her old partners.

Unless everything is not okay?

Everything is not okay.

Ainsley, I know you hate
when I say this,

but you need to calm down.

Calm down? I murdered a man
and forgot about it,

my brother's been lying
to me about it,

and now I may have just
done it again.

I can't stay here.

- I need to get out.
- No.

No, stay in the loft. Don't go.

I am going.

Ainsley? Ainsley?

Ains, it's me. Again.

Call me.

You know you're terrible
at hiding

whatever it is
you're trying to hide?

Sorry, it's just my sister.

She's... a little lost
at the moment.

And you're trying
to keep it all together?

More like failing miserably.

Well...

Look, from someone
who was lost once, too,

my advice is...

be there for her, but...

don't let her
drag you down with her.

What if she already has?

How?

Bright, you can tell me.

I'm overthinking it.

How about we focus

on the thing we can solve:

Zhang's murder.

And suddenly
I feel super insecure.

That's the point.

Plastic surgeons make money

- on insecurity.
- Thank you.

Anxiety and dysmorphia is
their core business model.

In this world,
nobody can feel good enough.

Even when they're
as beautiful as you.

Which could be what the killer
was trying to tell us.

What?

Nothing.

Detective Powell, Mr. Bright.

The doctors will see you now.

Okay.

It's a shame about Nicole.

I mean, we haven't spoken to her
in a while,

but the three of us go
all the way back to med school.

- Why did you fall out of touch?
- You know...

- Life.
- Different paths.

Nicole wanted to do
the whole pro bono thing,

and, uh...

Chabra and I have
different goals.

Work hard, play hard.

YOLO, you know?

You're stressed about something.

Who isn't these days?

You're holding tension
in your jaw.

Could lead to premature jowling.

I could get you
some product samples to help...

I'm good.

Speaking of product, Dr. Chabra,

you're head of the lab, right?

That's correct.

Our killer had access
to surgical-grade materials,

and your Radiance Solution
is our murder weapon.

Has any inventory
gone missing lately?

Absolutely not.

Summer takes stock
every morning.

We have nothing to hide.

Excuse me.

Who's Summer?

Uh, this is just all
so horrible.

I mean,
I-I didn't know Dr. Zhang.

I've, um... I've only
been here a few months.

But if anything was missing,
I would've told the doctors.

I mean, especially Dr. Donahue.

He's always, uh,
checking up on me,

if you know what I mean.

Unfortunately, I do.

Send over your records,

and we'll call
if we have any questions.

Okay. Thank you.

I want Donahue to be
the bad guy.

Yeah, anyone who says
"work hard, play hard"

definitely has a coke problem.

And he clearly has
hegemonic masculinity.

- Is that fancy for "toxic"?
- More or less.

It's why he works so well
with Dr. Chabra,

who's complicitly masculine.

He will tell us the ugly truth.

- How do we get him to talk?
- Easy.

We just isolate him
with our own alpha males.

I-I really can't say anything
without my lawyer.

Why not?
You afraid you might confess

now that Daddy's not around
to protect you?

You think I killed Nicole?

You tell me, man!

Hey. Hey.

Hey, I have nothing to hide.

J-Just tell me
what you want to know.

Our killer has a grudge
against Zhang,

your business,

and the medical knowledge
to pull it all off.

Who fits that bill?

Hey, hey.

The second
I found out about this,

one person came to mind.

Francine Depaugh.

- A former patient.
- What's the story there?

She was one of our best clients.

But then she got addicted to
the work, always wanting more.

Zhang wanted to cut her off,
Donahue didn't.

- That's when Dr. Zhang left your practice?
- Yes.

But after that, Francine got
to be too much, even for us.

She sued.
It got messy.

She fell off the map
about six months ago.

I-I assumed she just gave up.

Or maybe she pivoted to plan B...

Murder.

Ainsley, call me back. Now.

♪ Sexy eyes ♪

♪ Moving cross the floor ♪

♪ Got me wanting more ♪

♪ Sexy eyes ♪

♪ Sexy eyes... ♪

Edrisa?

Bright?

Sorry, I-I wasn't
expecting you until later.

Uh...

Yeah, and sorry
about the cadaver smell.

I'm trying to get rid of it.

Elegantly.

You look nice, by the way.

Oh, this old thing?

It was just, uh...

uh, shoved in the back
of my locker.

It was just...

Uh, but... thanks.
I do, I do look nice.

Uh...

I have a favor to ask.

Anything.

I need a DNA analysis on this.

No problemo. Where's it from?

It's a lead I'm running down
on my own.

I-If you wouldn't mind
keeping it just between us.

Say no more.

Thanks, Edrisa.
You're the best.

What's the matter?
Ainsley not getting back to you?

What? How do you...

Oh, uh...

Sorry. It's... Fun fact.

I read upside down
as well as right side up.

Sorry. It's a bad habit.

Right.

Thank you for that.

That went well.

Enough with the theatrics,
Quentin.

The meds will kick in soon.

I need something stronger.

My head feels
like it's gonna explode.

I can give you
a little more aspirin,

but that's it for today, okay?

I'll be back.

If Chabra's telling the truth,

Francine Depaugh has
body dysmorphic disorder.

- Does that fit your profile?
- Like a glove.

No matter what the doctors did,
all she could ever see was

the ugliness she felt inside.

That's a sad way to live.

Speaking German...

Hmm. Sounds like German.

Yeah, all I saw was blood.

Back up.

Stay down! Roll over.

Hands behind your back.
Find Francine.

Francine!

NYPD. Hands up.

Francine Depaugh?

My goodness.

What is this all about?

I assure you
no one is being injured.

All procedures are consensual.

Tell that to Nicole Zhang.

Francine, we're here to talk.

Face-to-face.

Is this what you had in mind?

How long you had the headache?

A few days.

- Why?
- You work out?

You hitting on me?

Whoa. Easy, champ.

You're not my type.

Your lips are chapped.

And as fit as you are,
you should be more vascular.

I'm plenty vascular.

Yeah, I'm guessing you don't
know what vascular means.

Point is, you're dehydrated.

- How old are you?
- What are you trying to do to me?

I'm diagnosing you,
and I'm worried, Quentin.

I think your head might explode.

- Yep.
- Whitly!

I am the least of your problems.

- Get him on a bed.
- Code four, code four.

Call an ambulance.

Come on, get him on the bed.

Three, lift.

Damn it!

What am I looking at?

Spontaneous subdural hematoma.

- I wasn't talking to you.
- Well, think about it.

Middle-aged guy works out.
Dehydrates. Brain shrinks.

Capillaries break.

- Bleeds happen.
- If you're right,

aspirin would've made
the bleed worse.

Well, find that bleed.

Do we have
an ultrasound machine?

The women's ward should.

Great. You want me
to go get it, or...?

Those doctors
were horrible to me.

Especially Zhang.

After all I gave them,

they claimed I was cuckoo.

And cut me off with so much work
left to be done.

They thought you were using
the surgeries to fill a void,

to try and fix
something broken inside.

It's really not that deep.

I simply demand perfection.

You dropped your lawsuit against

the Lexington Collective
six months ago.

Why?

I was over it.

No, you weren't.

You're relentless.

If you stopped bothering
the partners,

it's because you got
what you wanted.

Yes.

Which means I had no reason
to hurt anyone.

What it means is, you're in
possession of our murder weapon.

Oh, that's absurd.

I...

Donahue and I came to
an agreement.

He supplied me
with the Radiance Solution.

In exchange for what?

My silence.

For what they did
to poor little Lana.

Lana Anders,
student from the UK.

Went to med school
with Donahue and Chabra.

Star of the class.

Bound for greatness.

Our Neanderthal Donahue
convinced her

that she would never
have a career

unless she "looked the part."

He wrangled Chabra and Zhang

to perform
a malar augmentation...

A lifting of the cheekbones.

But Donahue was young,
inexperienced.

He screwed up.

Left Lana disfigured.

She dropped out soon after.

Disfigurement. Betrayal.

Sounds like she'd have
every reason to want revenge.

Where's Lana now?

I'm still trying
to figure it out.

She left the country
after her student visa expired,

and there is no record
of her reentering the States.

Well, Francine's alibi
checks out.

And Lana's nowhere to be found.
So who else do we have?

Donahue fits.

A controlled perfectionist
who molds people.

What if Zhang felt troubled
by her past?

Covering up
her partner's crimes?

The weight of it all
could have become unbearable.

Dr. Jekyll couldn't have
everyone finding out

- he's Mr. Hyde.
- Two good suspects.

Dani, go see
what Chabra knows about Lana.

I'll be waiting for Donahue
when he gets home.

Bright,
Jessica's called me twice.

Hurricane Birdie
has touched down,

and you are due at dinner.

Let me know
if I need to call in SWAT.

Don't.

Birdie would eat them alive.

Ah!

Ainsley?

I've been calling you all day.

- Have you?
- I thought you were feeling sick.

I'm feeling a lot of things.

I didn't realize there'd be
theater with our dinner tonight.

Yes, enough with the drama.

Malcolm, you're being rude.

Say hello to your aunt.

Birdie.

Malcolm.

Looking more like
your father every day.

There it is.

And fluid.

His intracranial pressure
must be through the roof.

You're gonna have
to relieve it manually.

I don't have
neurosurgical tools on hand.

I'm lucky to have a
30-year-old ultrasound machine.

Well, I love to improvise.

Oh! I'm sure maintenance has

a DeWalt and drill bits.

You want me to put a burr hole
in his head with a power drill?

Could be worse.

The Aztecs used sharpened rocks.

Yeah. They also skinned people
alive to bring rain.

True. But the rocks worked.

The ambulance is
ten minutes out.

Might as well be a hearse.

I could do it.

If my hands were free.

Get me five milligrams
of Diazepam

and a gram of ancef to IV push,
and a scalpel.

What bit shall I use?

9/16 should be just fine.

And a drill set.

Now.

If he dies...

Just put it on my tab.

Gently.

Gently...

How did we do?

It actually worked.

We did it.

Get Whitly out of here.

Come on, Doc.

So, Malcolm,

I hear you're profiling
murderers for the NYPD.

Yes, I'm with Major Crimes.

That's quite a demotion
from the FBI, isn't it?

Well, if we all took ten years
between career attempts,

the family trust fund
would run dry.

You're so... peculiar.

If my father was
a serial killer,

I'm not sure I'd be leaning
into it quite so much.

I guess the difference is
that he killed people

and, uh, I save them.

Most of the time, anyway.

How about we go grab
a nice Bordeaux, Ainsley?

One of Birdie's favorites.

Is it always like this?

Uh...

Not at all.

Where have you been all day?

I tried to retrace my steps,

and I lost track of time.

Why would you do that?

I told you
I could handle everything.

I was just trying to help.

- Don't.
- Come on.

I'm your sister.

This life you live, it's...

And when I heard about
Nicholas Endicott...

More murder?

I can't even imagine.

You're concerned.

Of course.

Why do you think I came?

You've been through hell.

You need someone to talk to.

Or at least drink with.

Let your guard down, Sis.

I'm here for you.

Thank you.

I can only
keep you out of trouble

if you listen to me.

Hey, Gil. What's the update?

Donahue didn't show.

JT's watching the place now,
and I'm putting out a BOLO.

I got a bad feeling
he's in the wind.

Damn it. He could be our guy.

I need to talk to Chabra.

Dani said the same.

She's on her way
to the Collective now.

Great.

Okay.

Dr. Chabra?

Do you have his number?

Dr. Chabra!
Who did this to you?

Didn't see.

I-I think... Donahue.

I betrayed him.

Giving you Francine.

We're gonna get you
to a hospital, okay?

Dr. Chabra? The solution's
setting in already.

His systems are shutting down.
We need to get him back, now!

- Is there some kind of antidote?
- Yes, but...

No.

An antitoxin will
slow the neurotoxin,

but it won't counteract
the paralytic agent.

We can get his heart rate back
up with a stimulant, like, um...

Cocaine!

Dani!

I got the stuff you asked for.

Is that a paperweight?

Not just a paperweight.

It's Donahue's secret stash.

- How did you know?
- Uh, the way he was handling it.

And, you know...

what else would you hide
in a cheetah?

Okay. Uh, let's see. Um...

About a gram of cocaine.

200 milliliters of saline.

- Any luck with the lidocaine?
- I couldn't find any.

Cool. No big deal.

Just, uh, shake this up.

Bright, is it a big deal?

No. No.

Only if I got the dose wrong...

Which I'm sure I didn't.

Lidocaine helps prevent
a fatal arrhythmia.

Dr. Chabra could die?

Well, he's gonna die anyway.

We can't kill him twice.

Uh, okay.

There...

Okay. Right.

All right!

Beautiful. Okay.

Now, next step:

We're gonna fast-track this
right into his heart.

This is the worst
cooking show ever.

Don't worry.

This will work.

Maybe.

Okay. Uh...

I do not miss drugs.

He isn't coming, Birdie.

What are you doing here?

You did seem genuine last night.

A caring ear,
a shoulder to cry on,

but...

...with this family,
I have learned

that it is always best to trust

but verify.

I'm not the Soviets, Jess.

You have no idea
what I've been through.

I think I
have a very clear idea.

You have sold a tell-all book
about your big sis.

Mrs. Martin Whitly.

I can explain.

Wait...

for my martini.

Here you are, Mrs. Whitly.

Thank you.

Mm...

I'm broke.

And Mummy's cut me off.

Claims she's
the only billionaire

to have lost money
during the pandemic.

Oh, well, then, by all means,
exploit my life's tragedies

in your poorly written
dime-store novel.

You think I want
to write a book?

I barely read them.

But they came to me with
an offer I couldn't refuse.

Hmm.

And so I will double it,
and then it goes away.

And you with it.

That's a marvelous gesture,

but it won't solve
your problems.

Cache Publishing is
desperate for this book.

They'll move forward
with or without me.

Then I have no other option.

In order to control
the narrative,

I will offer them my memoir.

Lord knows they've been
asking for it for years.

And you can have the advance.
Hmm.

Oh, they'll pay
through the nose for that.

I swear,

I'll repay you as soon
as my accounts are unfrozen.

Don't bother.

Just do one thing.

If Mummy asks
about your visit...

Dinner with your family

was a Rockwell painting.

Donahue's bank accounts
have all been cleared.

JT's still posted
at his apartment,

but I think
our guy skipped town.

And do we need to talk
about last night?

Chabra's alive.

And I was mostly sure
he was gonna be okay.

Like... 72%.

Donahue's a famous surgeon.

Easily recognizable.

So he has to know that making it
as a fugitive is unlikely.

I know, but he's arrogant.

- Maybe he's delusional.
- But not stupid.

His picture's in every agency
across the country.

He's never getting off
this island without us knowing.

Okay, let's think this through.

Put ourselves
in Donahue's headspace.

That is a terrifying thought.

Humor me.

Uh, what's his move?

He knows we're onto him.

So his only shot
at a new life...

...is a new face.

You think Donahue's gonna get a
surgery before he hits the road?

Yes, and I know
where he's gonna go to do it.

I think it's unlocked.

We still need a warrant.

Even for consultants?

There's something
leaning against the door.

Take a look.

It's one of the surgeons.
Push harder.

He's alive.

Francine!

That bitch.

This is Powell.
I need backup at 1304 Park.

What happened?

Oh, Donahue's recovery nurse.

The moment we put him under,
she went ballistic.

- What nurse? What's her name?
- I don't know.

A brunette. Blue eyes,

five-five, 115 pounds.

Teardrop Cs, if I had to guess.

That's Summer.
Where are they now?

In surgery.

That's not surgery.

That's murder.

Summer!

Step away from the chair,
and put the needle down.

I can't do that.

Why are you doing this, Summer?

You would never understand.

Give me a chance.

I might surprise you.

I know a thing or two
about murder.

Not like this.

I guess you're right.

Oh, and by the way...

...it's nice
to finally meet you.

Lana.

Lana, put the needle down
and talk to us. We can help.

No, you can't.

- Bright, that's Lana?
- Yep.

The brilliant young surgeon
Donahue disfigured.

He told me after he
"fixed my bone structure,"

I would be unstoppable.

I lost my friends.

My identity, everything.

You're not disfigured.
You're beautiful.

Ignore the pretty face.

The body can't tell
the difference

between elective surgery
and a knife wound.

Donahue nicked
my fifth cranial nerve.

What does that mean?

When you cut a nerve like that,
you create a neuroma.

The more you try to fix it,

the deeper and stronger
it grows back.

It's like an
invisible, white-hot pain

that constantly runs like acid

beneath this pretty face.

It's enough
to drive anyone insane.

This wasn't about beauty.

It was about pain.

It's about suffering.

Whatever Zhang and Chabra felt,

it is a fraction
of what I endure.

Then why let Donahue off easy?

What are you doing?

She wants revenge.

If you want to get even, Lana,

get even.

You've turned him
into everything that he hates.

So let him live.

Like this.

A monster
who will wake up every day

trapped in a nightmare.

Unable to recognize himself
in a mirror.

Believe me.

I know.

That's real pain.

The best revenge is
letting him live like this.

Oh, our gym rat's
not out of the woods,

but he'll recover.

Well, my quick thinking

and your... steady hand.

I wasn't expecting you to be
so savvy with a drill.

Your fault
for underestimating me.

Well, I could say
the same to you.

Good night, Dr. Whitly.

Let's go. Shift's over.

So... did you figure it out?

I did.

And the DNA test I ran
on your shirt proved it.

The blood was porcine.

Pig's blood, Ainsley.

- Really?
- Oh, come on.

It was a little funny.

This whole thing was
just a prank?

Do you have any idea

what you've put me through?

Do you?

You lied to me.

Underestimated me for months!

I have given up everything
for you!

I... I don't even know

who I am anymore.

Because of what I have done

to protect you.

Protect me?

Or control me?

You know, for someone who spent
the last few decades

trying to recover
from being gaslit,

it's ironic how quickly
you resorted to it.

That's not the same.

I was trying to save you pain.

That's exactly
what Dad would say.

I'm sorry.

I appreciate that.

But...

this whole thing was...

completely deranged.

You realize that, right?

Okay. It was...

a little over the top,
but I had to make sure

that you were never gonna
mess with my head again.

Seriously, though,
you need to lighten up.

We got away with it.

- You don't know that.
- Mm.

I do.

We're Whitlys.

No one does this murder stuff
better than us.

Simon Hoxley, Europol.

I believe you have
something for me.

He pulled it
up on his morning haul.

Do you think it's the head
of that body that we found

a few months back?

Yes.

I do.

That is Nicholas Endicott.

And those freezer burns
on his neck prove my theory.

Someone tried very hard
to make it look

like he was killed here
in Estonia,

but he was not.

What does it mean?

It means...

...I am heading
to New York City.

Captioning sponsored by
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And FORD.
We go further, so you can.

Captioned by Media Access
Group at WGBH access.wgbh.org

Greg, move your head.