All language subtitles for The.Blacklist.S08E18

Engel, Rhys.

Weight, 12 stone.

Height, 177 centimeters.

He's about your age.
I think he's perfect.

Cause of death?

Heart failure.
He's American.
Here on business.

And what's our window?

Just ordered
toxicology report,

so I won't issue the death
certificate for another 48.

That's good.
That's very good.

Is that a yes?

It's a yes. Sold.

How do you
plan to find them?

I have resources.
Keen's in hiding.

They all are.
I can't find them.

If the FBI can't find them,

how the hell do you plan
to do the job?

As I said...

I have resources.
Get it done.

I don't care who gets
in the way, just get it done.

And be careful with this one.
She's a mouse trap.

A mouse trap?

More dangerous
than she looks.

Thank you.

Alright. Here's your
room key...

Thank you.
...and this case,

which was left
with instructions to give
to you when you arrived.

Are you here for business
or pleasure?

I have a few days
to kill.

Hey.
Came soon as I could.

Thank God you're okay.

Were you followed?
Mmm-mmm.

Were you followed?

No. Just me.

Rocco here?

Rocco's gone.

Did you bring the burner?

And soup.

Thought you'd be hungry.
You're an angel.

Get in here.

Liz, what the hell's
going on?

Townsend.

He's looking for me.

Townsend-our-partner
Townsend?

That's right.
Is he looking or hunting?

Hunting.
All of us.

Liz, back up.
What's happened?

Okay. Reddington's handler
from Moscow, Stepanov,

Townsend and I
were questioning him,

and whatever
he told Townsend,
whatever he knows...

And whatever he gave up,
it caused Townsend
to try to kill you?

Woman, in what world
does that make any sense?

That's what I'm trying
to figure out.

What do the feds know?
I'll make a few calls.

This is good.

Rocco's dead.

Okay, that's bad,
but this is good.

Because the Russian can prove
that Reddington's N-13, right?

He's the key to all of this.
The feds now know about him.

This is good.
I think so.

I think
whatever Townsend learned,

it's what Reddington's been
trying so desperately to hide.

I don't know what any
of this has to do with

why Townsend
is trying to kill me,

but I get the sense
that we are very close
to the truth.

I'll make a few calls,
see what Cooper knows.

In the meantime,
you guys just stay put.

Anyone like soup?

Donald, tell me
what you've found out.

We're working
sources in the field,

breaking down satellite
feeds, traffic cameras.

Local police are canvassing
the perimeter now.

What if Elizabeth
is outside the perimeter?

We don't know that she is.

And you don't know
that she's not,

which means the only thing
you know is nothing.

I hope you're here
because you have a lead

on Keen's whereabouts.
I don't.

I have a lead on the hitman

who's been contracted
to find her.

Townsend hired a hitman?

He hired a hitman
to find her.

I suspect
he'll wait on the hit
until I'm there to see it.

So, what do we know
about the guy?

He's known as the Protean,
and like his mythic namesake

who possessed
the gift of prophecy,

he escapes those
who want to question him

by changing his form.

A hitman
who's a shapeshifter?

He's an independent
contractor

hired by governments,
corporations, bad guys.

His allegiance
follows the money.

Do you know
how to contact him?

You have a photo?
An alias?

I know
he's based in Europe.

I've never seen a photo.

As for his name,
it changes.

He travels the globe,
hunting his victims,

using the names
of the recently deceased

to move from job to job.

If he's taking
the identities
of the dead,

wouldn't it be reported
by loved ones,

family members?
Well, it would,

unless the deaths
have yet to be certified.

Meaning that
if the Protean's in the U.S.,

he entered using the alias
of someone who just
recently died.

Which is why I need
the names of people

who have passed through U.S.
customs in the last 48 hours.

That's a tall order,
considering that
you're protecting

Ivan Stepanov
from the Bureau.

Then I'll narrow it down.

White male,
between 35 and 45,

probably travelling alone
with a U.S. passport.

DOJ's gonna have questions.

Even if I can convince
Homeland to expedite
the approvals...

We don't have time
for approvals.

There's a system
in place.

There's a hitman
hunting Elizabeth.

I'm aware of that,
and I'd like to help you.

We all want to find her
as badly as you,

but to do that,
we have to go through
proper channels.

Why?
Because we're the FBI.

I told you this was
a waste of time.

We'll handle it ourselves.

Hello?
Hi. Sorry.

I have a delivery to make,
and the unit's not answering.

Talk to the feds?
What's the word?

Nothing yet.
I can't get bars

on this stupid
burner phone.

Hey, Skip?
Mmm-hmm?

Thank you.

Well, it's no big deal.
It was just soup.

No, I mean...

Thank you.

Ah-ha-ha, yeah

You know, I know some bankers
in Costa Rica.

Say the word, and we can be
in the rainforest in 24 hours.

No-no-no-no

It's all in my mind

Summer breeze

Makes me feel fine

Wait. Wait. No.

Blowin' through
the jasmine in my mind

Skip. Skip,
what's goin...

Oh!

Ah, summer breeze

Summer breeze

Makes me feel fine

Blowin' through
the jasmine in my mind

Where is she?

All in my mind

What do you mean,
took him?
Took him where?

One of his secret
medical teams

who then promptly
helped Stepanov vanish.

So, he's gone.
We learned nothing.

Elizabeth,
you're missing the point.
You're in danger.

Yes. From Townsend
and Reddington.

He's trying to help.

The only one Reddington's
trying to help is himself,

which is why I can't come in
until I know what
Townsend knows

and why he wants me dead.

Until then,
I'm on my own.

You get the trace?

Mrs. French,
hey, it's me.

Is Agnes with you?

School.

Something's happened.

Tell me where she is,
and I'll spare your life.

Ah, summer
Summer breeze

She's in the rainforest.
Makes me feel fine

Blowin' through
the jasmine in my mind

Ah, summer breeze

Summer breeze

Makes me feel fine

Blowin' through the jasmine
in my mind

Sweet days of summer

The jasmine's in bloom

July is dressed up
and playing her tune

When I come home
from a hard day's work

No, I'm sure
I'm overreacting.

Just give me a call
when she gets home
from school.

I'll give you
more details then.
Not a care

Bye.

In the world

See the smile awaitin'
in the kitchen

Food cookin'
on a plate for two

Hey, guys,
bad news about Stepanov.

Turns out Reddington
already moved him.

Feel that arms
reachin' out to hold me

In the evening

When the day is through

Ah, summer

Summer breeze

Makes me feel fine

Blowing through the jasmine
in my mind

Yeah.
I need another
lead on Keen.

A way to leverage her.

What have you got?
She has a family.

A half-sister
and a daughter.

Where do you want
to start?

Hello, Mr. Beaks!

Your daddy is home!

How are we?

Very chatty.

Let's hope it runs
in the family.

Reddington?
What are you...
How did...

Are you feeding
Mr. Beaks?

I found some rather
overcooked salmon
in your refrigerator.

Apparently, he's not
a picky eater.

I only feed him
in the morning.

A creature of habit.

Sounds familiar.

My colleague finds

my increasing attachment
to certain habits

to be a distinct liability,

since in my line of work,
predictability and mortality

often go hand in hand.

But you might
be interested to know

that one habit
I'm particularly fond of

is only asking
for something once.

After that, I start
to become insistent.

I told you over the phone,

I can't give you access
to the database.

You can.
You choose not to.

Yes, because
after three years,

you're finally
up for a promotion

at Customs
and Border Patrol.
Come on.

Six percent raise.

Plus dental.

Percy Spencer.

Ring any bells?

No?

He was an
American physicist.

In the 1940s, he was working
on radar technology

when he stood too close
to a magnetron

and noticed that the candy bar
in his pocket had melted.

Then and there,
he realized that radio waves
could heat food.

And with that,
Percy Spencer invented

the first microwave oven.

And how did the company
he worked for reward him?

They promoted him,
they patented his idea,

and they paid him
$2 for it.

Two dollars.

For one of the defining
inventions of American life.

I want to help.

I-I do.

But CBP
has been good to me.

I need your database.

And I need it narrowcast
to a white male, 30s, 40s,

who entered the country alone
in the past 48 hours,

likely through an East Coast
port of entry

with a U.S. passport.

Max, this is important.

Otherwise,
I nuke Mr. Beaks.

You wouldn't.
I wonder,

will he taste like
squab or dove?

I think I saw
some mango sauce
in the cabinet.

Fine.
Take my laptop.

It contains
the portal to ADIS.

DHS's Arrival and Departure
Information System.

I'll talk you through
how to narrow your search.

See?
That wasn't so hard.

If anyone finds out,
I'll be fired.

You completely missed
the moral of the story.

It wasn't
that you'd kill Mr. Beaks?

In a microwave?

What do you take me for?

Now, if you had a nice
white burgundy
we could braise him in?

No. Come on, Max!

The moral of poor
Mr. Spencer's
tale of woe

is that you should
never worry about betraying
your workplace,

because, given the chance,

your workplace
will definitely betray you.

Loyalty to individuals.
Relationships.

That's what makes
the world go 'round.

We confirmed the I.D.s.

It was her team.
Everyone?

Esi Jackson, Skip Hadley,
and a Jane Doe.

Probably security.

But no Keen?
No.

Either she wasn't here
or she got away.

Or Townsend got her.
We have witnesses?

No. Neighbors didn't
see a thing.

Ressler.
Hang on.

They recovered blood
from under her fingernails.

She put up a fight.

If the lab can find a match,
she'll have I.D.'d
her killer.

And the man who Townsend
hired to hunt down Keen.

Hey, we're running forensics
on some DNA and some
shell casings.

Look, all we know
for certain until
it comes back is this,

Keen had protection.
Now she's on her own.

Can you
reach out to her?

Trust me,
I would if I could.

Reddington predicted
Townsend would come after

everyone close to Keen.

In his mind, that includes us,
so be careful.

Keen's not the only one
with a target on her back.

Copy.

Hello?

"There were few birds
in this part of the forest,

"for birds love
the open country

"where there is
plenty of sunshine."

Hi.
I just need to grab Agnes.

Oh, yeah, sure.
Agnes.

"Now and then,
there came a deep..."

Hi. Your mom called.

You're getting
picked up early.

What's the password?

Chocolate sauce.

That's two words.

Yes, but it's delicious.

So, it's you.

The one Mom put here
to look out for me.

I don't know
what you mean.

Does the school know
you're a secret agent?

I'm just the math teacher.

And you're too smart
for your own good.

Can I help you?
Hi.

Uh, I'm new to the area.

I'd like to speak to someone
about enrollment, please.

Of course.
If you'd just sign in.

That's it. Let's go.

May I?

Hmm?

The pen.
Right.

Of course.

Thank you.
Come on, sweetheart.

We have to meet
Mrs. French.

Would you excuse me
for one second, please?

There have got to be
more than 5,000 names here.

Yes. Down from the
60,000-some-odd American men

who enter the U.S.
through customs each day.

Between the probable
entry points

and what little
I know about him,

that's the list of people
who fit the description

of the man I'm looking for.

The dead one?

The man I'm looking for
takes on the identities
of dead people.

Golly.

That's smart.

Who thinks
of something like that?

Someone resourceful,
and dangerous,

with a keen sense of irony.

But, Paula, the phone
company database,

I know it won't
cover everyone,
but can you scan the names

through it to at least
get some numbers?

Well, I bet
he's an interesting
conversationalist.

Paula, there's
some urgency here.

Then you're lucky
it's bingo night.

Bingo.
Betty-Lu's
calling the numbers.

She's a real hoot.

About the database.

What do you think
I'm talking about, silly?

I think you're talking
about bingo.

Ah. The youth today.

Don't worry about
the phone company.

Getting the numbers
is the easy part.

The hard part
is calling them all.

That's why you need Bingo.

You want a quick answer
to which one of these
people is dead,

fifty alta cockers
is your ticket.

Mrs. French?
Hey. Is she okay?

So you got her?
There were no problems?

That is such a relief.

Can you put her on?

Hey, honey.
How was your day?

No, everything's fine.
I was just being
extra careful, okay?

So, tell me about your day.

I want to hear everything.

Hello?
What's going on?

I told you that
I wanted updates
on Keen.

Work in progress.

So, you don't have her?

Hello?
I'm talking to you.

There was a fly
in the ointment.

But things seem
to be back on track.

W-What does that mean?
I'm paying you a fortune.

I expect more than three-word
responses like...

Do not ever hang up on me.

I am your employer.
When I ask for specifics,
I demand...

I don't like being lectured,
nor do I like conversing

when there's nothing
of substance to discuss,

so I suggest you hear me
when I assure you

this job isn't as simple
as the dispatching
of a gun runner

or a CEO.

Now, our target is a very
clever fugitive in hiding,

which makes the task at hand
decidedly more burdensome.

That means it will take time,
which you can't change,

which means you will need
to demonstrate some patience,

which is as unfortunate
as it is true.

Now, this is my explanation,
as well as our last
communication

until I know
I can deliver Miss Keen.

When that time comes,
I will notify you.

Until then,
try and compose yourself,

and know you are
in capable hands.

Anything from
the crime lab?
Nothing good.

No match in the database
to the DNA

pulled from under
Esi Jackson's fingernails.

And there are no prints
on the shell casings

found at the scene.
This guy's good.

All we know for certain
is that the shells came
from a 9mm.

If that's what we got,
that's what we use.

Advise local law enforcement.
Push the ballistics.

Anytime, anywhere
a 9mm gets discharged,

I wanna know about it.

I'll notify
the D.C. field office.

What about Keen?
Any updates?

No. Nothing.
No further contact.

And we have no way
of reaching her.

Well, somebody
better find a way
to contact her soon,

because wherever she is,
she isn't safe.

What do you mean found you?
Who found you?

They were in your house?

The lock to the back door
was picked,

and the office
is a mess, and...

Liz, I think they were
on my laptop.

Are you safe now?
Yeah.

But can you tell me
what's going on?

Am I crazy,
or is this about Reddington?

It's more complicated
than that.

How complicated does it have
to be for him to find me?

I'm in witness
protection, right?

Okay, Jen, listen to me.

I think you need
to leave the house.

I don't think
you're safe there.

I'm gonna give you an address.
Do you have a pen?

Yeah.

Go.

2319 Central, in D.C.

It's a paint store.
There's an alley behind it.

Meet me there at 9:00.

Liz, will you tell me
what's going on?

I'll explain
everything tonight.
Just meet me there at 9:00,

and, Jen, be careful.

Oh.

No.

Oh, no, no, no.

Don't cry, honey lamb.

You did the right thing.

Hello?

Oh, sorry.

Sorry.

Uh, good evening,
everyone.

I'm Steven.

Uh, and I'm a good friend
of your good friend Paula,

Uh, which I guess
makes us all good friends.

U-Unfortunately,

Betty-Lu has come down
with a little something,

so I'll be your, uh,
caller tonight.

Oh, uh, but before we begin,

I've been asked
to remind everyone

of a few housekeeping items.

Uh, okay. So, first,
the rescheduled
pancake feed

is this Saturday
at f-fire hall
number three.

Uh, tickets are $5
or $6 at the door.

That'll be good fun.

Ooh, uh, what's not so fun
is the Member-At-Large dues

are now due
to National Headquarters.

So, please, please
don't be late with those.

And finally, Brandy says there
are still a few raffle tickets

left for
the spring fundraiser.

They're $10 each,

and first place
is a quarter beef.

Second place
is five uncured hams.

All donated by Merlin Degner.

Thank you for that, Merlin.

Yes. Absolutely.

And of course, all proceeds
go to the Veterans Lodge.

Alrighty. Good.

Okay, uh, now with that
out of the way,

I'm very excited, uh,
because tonight,

we're gonna be doing things
a little differently.

Uh, tonight, instead of
the "Pot of Gold Progressive,"

we're going to play
a new variation of bingo.

Does everyone,
uh, still have
the, uh, sheets of paper

that were on your chair
when you arrived?

Okay, great. Yes.

These are lists of names
and telephone numbers.

And the game tonight
is to get out your cellphones

and to call the people
on your lists

and verify that they are
who they say they are.

And each completed list
earns you $100.

What'd he say?

That's $100
for every completed list.

And here's
the really fun part,

uh, the grand prize winner
will also receive $1,000

if he or she is able
to reach someone who is...

Who is dead.

How's that like bingo?

It's a game of chance.

Which lucky winner
will find the dead man?

It could be you, ma'am.
Or... Or it could
be you, sir.

I'm sorry.
Excuse me...
Excuse me, madam.

I want to play bingo.

This isn't the routine!
Right.

Uh, I mean, don't you
sometimes wonder

if the routine feels like
just the same old thing,

whereas tonight...

You're losing them.

Yes.

Okay.

Hold on.

Everyone, listen up.

Before you get your
markers in a mash,

what this man
isn't telling you

is that his name
isn't Steve Homan.

It's Father Steve Homan
from Prince of Peace,

and he's being too damn nice.

The truth is
one of his deacons

stole 134 grand

from the church's
gymnasium renovation fund

and skipped town.
How much did she say?

Now, if you need to know,

Father Steve hired
a private detective,

and the private dick thinks

the thievin' heathen
has fled the country

and is using the identity

of someone
who is dearly departed

and on this list.

Now, I shoulda
been straight-up.

But Father Steve
is in a real bad place.

His faith's being tested,
and I just...

Well, I-I thought
maybe we could help.

Hell yeah.
We can help.

Yeah, why didn't you
just say so?

Well, okay, then.

Whoever finds the dead man
wins $1,000,

the Good Lord's blessing,

and a year's worth
of my garlic-butter
cockle dip!

My heavens, Paula.

My faith in faith
has been restored.

God. Just tell me
you're okay.

Drive.

What?
It's a trap.

The man, whoever he is,
he forced me to call.

He followed me here.

Get down!

Liz, he shot me.

Oh, my God.
Oh, my God. I'm gonna die.

No one's gonna die.

Look at all this blood!
I'm gonna die!

We'll be at the hospital
in 10 minutes.

Here, take my hand.

You're not dying, okay?

You're hurt,
and it's pretty bad,

but you're not gonna die,
so forget about that, okay?

Look at what
he did to me.

What did I ever
do to him?

You didn't do anything.

I did something.
This is not your fault.

I was your sister.

We got blood on the scene,
broken glass, and this.

A 9mm shell casing.

That's consistent
with the caliber

of the gun
on your BOLO.

Someone was shot,
but you don't know who.

Responding officers
didn't find any bodies,

not the victim
nor the shooter.

But they did find this.

They took out her team.

I mean,
Keen must know that.

So why get lured
into an alley?

I mean, what was the bait?

Or who?

Good evening.
Selden Hotel.

Last call he made
was to the Selden Hotel.

Could be nothing,
or that's where he's staying,

and he was complaining
about the Wi-Fi.

Selden's got
over 1,000 rooms.

I mean, we don't even know
if he's staying there,

and even if he is,
we don't know
what he looks like,

and we have no idea
what name he's
registered under.

Looks like we're going
door to door.

My cat...

Sierra...

You have to feed her.

I'll take
good care of Sierra.
Don't you worry.

She'll be fat and happy
by the time you come home.

I'm scared.
It's gonna be okay.

We're almost there.

Hold me.
I am.

I'm not gonna let go.
Hold me.

I will, as soon as we get
to the hospital.

And when you get out
of the hospital,

this will all be over.
All of it.

No more running,
no more witness protection.

We can buy a place,
a nice place,
wherever you want.

I got money now, so...
Okay?

And we can be together.

You, me, Agnes, and Sierra.

I promise.

It's gonna be
a happy ending,

okay?

We're gonna live
happily ever...

Arthur, you had
the egg salad.

Yeah, I'm with
LaGuardia Airport.

I have
Mr. Smelling's suitcase.

I had the liverwurst.
L-Liverwurst.

Yes, I'm calling
from GemSoul.

We produce diamonds
from your loved one's ashes.

Has anyone in your
immediate family
died recently?

Bernice, I have your Reuben.

Thank you.

Your friends
are wildly imaginative.

About a year ago,
I started a thrillers-only
book club.

Robert Ludlum.

That Sue Grafton.

A is for Alibi
blew the wind
right up my skirt.

Looks like B is for Bingo.

And it doesn't bother you?

Helping me find
some criminal?

Not knowing what might
happen to him if I do?

John.
Matzo ball soup.

Just broth and ball.

I think you're a good egg.

A bit poached for my taste,
but you want to do
what's right,

and I am tickled to carry on
the family tradition

of helping you get it done.

Bingo!

What did you find, good sir?
The dirty deacon.

His name is Rhys Engel

from Carlsburg, Illinois.

Died in London
two days ago.

Bingo, indeed.

As soon
as I have confirmation,

the grand prize is yours.

The dirty deacon.

Tell me his name again.

Rhys Engel.
That's The Protean's alias?

That's the needle.
Now all we need
is the haystack.

We have it.
The Selden Hotel.

Ressler and Park
are on their way there now.

Is that polka music?

Yes, it is,
and I must say,

it makes for
a very productive
work environment.

Keeps the energy up.

Ressler.
Reddington got
The Protean's name.

The man you're looking for
is Rhys Engel.

Excuse me.
Agents Ressler
and Park, FBI.

We need to know
if a Rhys Engel
is registered here,

and if he is,
we need his room number.

Uh, Mr. Engel is in room...

1212.

I've got a good feeling
about this.

Yeah? Why's that?
Twelve's my lucky number.

Excuse me.
It's all good.

I used to believe
in salvation.

That good was rewarded
and evil punished.

But I don't believe
in that anymore.

Not in this life.

But if there is a next life,
and you do exist,

please take care of my sister.

And Esi.

And Skip.

They were good people.

Good people,
and I didn't do right by them.

I pray that you will.

That's Mr. Engel.

That's Engel?

Forensics says
the room's clean.

No.
Yeah.

Okay, so, I just talked
to the hotel I.T. guy.

Huge Gordon Lightfoot fan,
by the way.

How cool is this?
We both want

Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald
playing at our funerals.

And because of that pathetic
bonding experience...

I got access to Engel's hotel
Wi-Fi account,

and the first thing he did
was access the DMV database

to run a license plate.

You think it could be
the car Keen was driving?

Well, if it is,
he would be on his way
to her right now.

It was a blue Subaru Outback
registered to a Lisa Grant,

237 Tacoma Drive.

Okay, well,
it could be someone
who's either helping her

or someone
whose car she stole.

Either way,
it's our best lead.

Proving once again
that Gordon Lightfoot

is anything but pathetic.

Ressler.

I need you to send someone
to Holland Point.

Thank God it's you, Keen.

There's a blue
Subaru Outback.

Is that where you are,
Holland Point?

Uh, the car.

I need you to send
someone there now.

To pick up my sister.

Wait, y-your sister?
Jennifer?

Yeah, he got to her.

To get to me.

Like he got to the others.

Okay, we'll send
someone right away
to pick her up.

Uh, I don't just want you
to pick her up.

I want you to bury her.

Uh, I'll pay for it.

Maybe somewhere
with a view.

I'm so sorry.

The man Townsend hired
to find me.

I hit him with my car.

Somewhere on Roscoe,
uh, between...

Clark and Broadway.
We know. We've been there.

How did you know
about that?

What matters is that we do.

Did you arrest him?
No. Listen to me, Keen.

He's got the plate
off your car, the Subaru.

He knows the address
it's registered to.

Please tell me that you're
not there right now.

Keen.

Hey. 237 Tacoma.
We gotta get there.

I have her location.

Her location, but not her.

Well, one thing
leads to another.

I love how you think I'm some
high school English teacher,

handing out extensions
on essays.

I've opened up
a new directive,

like the one for Rostova,
but double the bounty.

That won't be necessary.

I told you I would notify you
when I could deliver Keen.

That time is now.
Is that a fact?

Give me a location.

I'll bring her there
by this time tomorrow.

Remember that job in Petworth?
Yeah.

We keep a safe house there.
Yeah, I know it.

I'll be there.

With Keen.

Looking for me?

Miss Keen, please.

This is a terrible blunder.

Are you the one?

If you would put
the gun down...
The man who killed my sister?

And all my friends?

Were they really friends?

They were people.

And now they're gone
because of you.

My only job was to safely
deliver you to Mr. Townsend.

Well, that's not
gonna happen.

What you are gonna do
is you're gonna tell me

everything I want to know
about Townsend,

starting with the meeting
that's been set.

Answer me.

Start the car.

I don't think
that's a good...
Start the damn car! Drive!

Hands!
Show me your hands!

Liz. Liz,
put the gun down.

Aram, do not come any closer!

I'm unarmed.
Alright, I want you

to place your arms
through the steering wheel,

then lace your fingers.
I'm gonna step closer

and open your door.
After I open your door,

you're gonna release
the seatbelt and step out.

Ressler, so help me God,
if you open that door...

Liz, put the gun down.

Not until I get the answer
I'm looking for!

Ressler, listen to me,
he killed my sister,

and Esi and Skip...

Keen, out the gun down!

Please, do not do this!
I'm gonna open the door now.

You're gonna keep
that right hand
on the steering wheel.

Your left hand's gonna
move across your body.

Release your seatbelt
and step out.

I am not letting him
out of this car.

She'll shoot me.
Keen, do not
pull that trigger.

Undo the belt.
But the gun...

Nobody is gonna
shoot anyone.

Right, Liz?

Liz, please.

Undo the belt.

I'm going to
undo the belt now.

No! He knows
where Townsend is!
Where is he?

Get her off him!
You cannot die

until you tell me
where he is!

He knows where Townsend is!

Where are you meeting him?

No! Do not die
before you tell me
where he is!

No! No!
It's okay. It's okay.

No!

We have her
in custody.

I wanted you to know
she's safe.

Harold, bring her here.

Excuse me?
You can't take her in.

That's exactly
what I'm going to do.

It breaks my heart,
but Elizabeth

is a fugitive
and a criminal,

and she's gonna
be treated as one.

You can't
save her from that.

I'm the only one
who can save her.

Not today.

Harold, I know you.

I know how you think.

What you hope
in your heart.

That the system works.

That Elizabeth can be
prosecuted, incarcerated,

and rehabilitated.
It's a lie.

This is the last thing
I ever wanted or intended.

But you and I both know
Elizabeth Keen is a criminal.

She will never
be an agent again.

She will never be
a civilian.

Her only hope for survival

exists in my world.

I hope you're wrong.
Population

I wish I were.
Keeps on breeding

Well, we'll soon find out.

Nation bleeding,
still more feeding economy

Life is funny
Skies are sunny

Bees make honey
Who needs money?

No, not poor me

I'd love to change
the world

But I don't know
what to do

So I'll leave it up to you

I'd love to change the world