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Engel, Rhys. Weight: 12 stone.

Height: 177 cm. He's about your age.

I think he's perfect.

- Cause of death? - Heart failure.

- He's American. Here on business. - 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,

how 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.

- All right. 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 as soon as I could. - Thank God you're okay.

- Were you followed? - Mm-mm.

- Were you followed? - No. Just me. Rocco here?

Rocco's gone.

- Bring the burner? - And soup. Thought you'd be hungry.

You're an angel. Get in here.

- Liz, what the hell is going on? - Townsend.

He's looking for me.

- Townsend, our partner Townsend? - Right.

- Is he looking or hunting? - Hunting.

- All of us. - Liz, back up. What's happened?

Reddington's handler from Moscow, Stepanov,

Townsend and I were questioning him.

Whatever he told Townsend, whatever he knows...

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

In what world does that make any sense?

- I'm trying to figure that out. - What do the feds know?

I'll make a few calls.

- This is good. - Rocco is dead.

That's bad, but this is good.

The Russian can prove Reddington's N-13. Right? He's the key to all this.

- The feds now know about him, it's good. - I think so.

Whatever Townsend learned, Reddington's been trying to hide.

I don't know what this has to do with why Townsend is trying to kill me,

but I sense we're 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.

We're working sources.

Breaking down satellite feeds, traffic cameras.

Police are canvassing the perimeter.

What if Elizabeth is outside that?

- We don't know she is. - And you don't know she's not.

The only thing you know is nothing.

I hope you have a lead on Keen.

I don't. I have a lead on the hitman contracted to find her.

- Townsend hired a hitman? - To find her.

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

- What do we know about him? - 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? A photo? An alias?

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?

Unless the deaths have yet to be certified.

So if The Protean is 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.

A tall order, considering you're protecting Ivan Stepanov from the bureau.

I'll narrow it down.

White male between 35 and 45,

probably traveling 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. I'd like to help.

We all want to find her, but to do that,

- we 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.

You talk to the feds? What's the word?

Nothing. I can't get bars on this stupid burner phone.

- Hey, Skip? - Uh-huh?

Thank you.

- No big deal. It's just soup. - No. I mean...

thank you.

I know some bankers in Costa Rica.

Say the word, we could be in a rainforest in 24 hours.

♪ All in my mind ♪

♪ Summer breeze ♪

♪ Makes me feel fine ♪

Wait. Wait. No.

♪ Blowin' through the jasmine in my mind ♪

Skip.

Skip, what's going on...

- ♪ Ooh, summer breeze ♪ - ♪ Summer breeze ♪

♪ Makes me feel fine ♪

♪ Blowin' though the jasmine in my mind ♪

Where is she?

♪ All in my mind ♪

What do you mean, took him? Where?

To one of his secret medical teams, who then promptly helped Stepanov vanish.

So he's gone. We learned nothing.

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.

She's in the rainforest.

♪ Blowin' though the jasmine in my mind ♪

- ♪ Oh, summer breeze ♪ - ♪ Summer breeze ♪

♪ Makes me feel fine ♪

♪ Blowin' though 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 ♪

I'm sure I'm overreacting.

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

I'll give you more details then. Bye.

♪ In the world ♪

♪ See the smile waitin' in the kitchen ♪

Guys, bad news about Stepanov.

Turns out Reddington already moved him.

♪ Feel the arms reachin' out to hold me ♪

♪ In the evening when the day is through ♪

- ♪ Summer ♪ - ♪ Summer breeze ♪

♪ Makes me feel fine ♪

♪ Blowin' 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...?

Are you feeding Mr. Beaks?

I found some overcooked salmon in your refrigerator.

He's not a picky eater.

- I only feed him in the morning. - Creature of habit.

Sounds familiar.

My colleague finds my increasing attachment to habits

to be a distinct liability.

Since in my line of work, predictability and mortality

often go hand in hand.

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.

A 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 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 saw mango sauce in the cabinet.

Fine. Take my laptop.

It contains the portal to ADIS,

DHS' Arrival and Departure Information System.

I'll talk you through how to 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 betray you.

Loyalty to individuals. Relationships.

That's what makes the world go round.

We've confirmed the IDs. 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. 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 ID'd her killer.

And the man who Townsend hired to hunt down Keen.

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

All we know until it comes back is this:

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

- Can you reach her? - No. I would if I could.

Reddington predicted Townsend would come after everyone close to Keen.

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's plenty of sunshine..."

- I need to grab Agnes. - Yeah, sure. Agnes.

"Now and then..."

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 an agent?

I'm just the math teacher.

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.

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. We have to meet Mrs. French.

Would you excuse me for one second, please?

There have got to be more than 5000 names here.

Yes.

Down from 60,000-some-odd American men who enter the U.S. through Customs daily.

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.

The dead one.

The man I'm looking for takes 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.

Paula, the phone-company database, I know it won't cover everyone.

Can you scan the names through it to get some numbers?

I bet he's an interesting conversationalist.

There's some urgency here.

Then you're lucky it's bingo night.

Bingo.

Betty-Lu's calling the numbers. She's a hoot.

About the database.

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

You're talking about bingo.

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,

50 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. So tell me about your day.

I wanna hear everything.

Hello.

What's going on? I wanted updates on Keen.

Work in progress.

You don't have her?

Hello? I am talking to you.

There was a fly in the ointment, but things seem to be back on track.

What does that mean?

I'm paying you a fortune. I expect more than three-word responses...

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 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'll take time, which you can't change.

You will need to demonstrate patience, which is as unfortunate as it is true.

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's fingernails.

- No prints on the shell casings. - This guy's good.

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

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? Updates?

No, nothing. No further contact.

- We have no way of reaching her. - Somebody better find a way to,

because she isn't safe.

What do you mean? Who found you?

They were in your house?

The lock to the back door was picked. The office is a mess.

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.

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

I'm in witness protection, right?

Listen, you need to leave the house.

I don't think you're safe. I'm gonna give you an address.

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, tell me what's going on.

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

And, Jen, be careful.

Oh...

No. No, no, no.

Don't cry, honey lamb.

You did the right thing.

Hello? Oh, I'm sorry.

Uh... Sorry.

Good evening, everyone. I'm Steven.

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

which I guess makes us all good friends.

Unfortunately, Betty-Lu has come down with a little something.

So I'll be your caller tonight.

But before we begin, I have been asked to remind everyone

of a few housekeeping items.

Okay, the first, the rescheduled pancake feed

is this Saturday at Fire Hall Number 3.

Tickets are $5, or $6 at the door.

That'll be good fun.

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.

Finally, Brandy says there are still a few raffle tickets left

for the spring fundraiser. They're $10 each.

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 Veteran's Lodge.

Alrighty, good. Okay, now, with that out of the way,

I'm very excited

because tonight we're going to be doing things a little differently.

Tonight, instead of the Pot of Gold Progressive,

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

Does everyone still have the sheets of paper that were on your chair

when you arrived?

Okay, great. Yes. These are lists of names and telephone numbers.

The game 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:

The grand prize winner will also receive $1000

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

Who is dead.

How is that like bingo?

It's a game of chance!

Which lucky winner will find the dead man?

It could be you, ma'am, or you, sir.

I'm sorry, excuse me, madam.

I want to play bingo.

This isn't the routine.

Right. Don't you sometimes wonder if

the routine feels like 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 damned 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?

If you need to know, Father Steve hired a private detective,

and the private dick thinks

the thieving heathen has fled the country

and is using the identity of someone who is dearly departed

and on this list.

Now, I should've been straight up.

But Father Steve is in a real bad place.

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

I thought maybe we could help.

Hell yeah, we can help.

Why didn't you just say so?

Well, okay, then.

Whoever finds the dead man wins $1000, 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.

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!

Hold on.

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 ten minutes.

Here. Take my hand. You're not dying, okay?

You're hurt. 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: 9 mm shell casing.

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. 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.

The Selden's got over 1000 rooms. We don't even know if he's staying there.

If he is, we don't know what he looks like or 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 care of Sierra, don't 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 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?

We can be together.

You, me, Agnes, and Sierra.

I promise.

There's gonna be a happy ending. Okay?

We're gonna live happily ever...

Arthur, you had the egg salad.

I'm with LaGuardia Airport. I have Mr. Smelling's suitcase.

- I had the liverwurst. - 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 wanna 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 is 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 now.

- Is that polka music? - Yes, it is.

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. - Mr. Engel is in room 1212.

I've got a good feeling about this.

- 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.

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 talked to the hotel IT guy. Huge Gordon Lightfoot fan.

We both want "Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" played 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.

- Was it the car Keen was driving? - If it is, he could be on his way to her.

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

237 Tacoma Drive.

Could be someone helping her, or someone whose car she stole.

It's our best lead.

Proving again that Gordon Lightfoot is anything but pathetic.

- Ressler. - Send someone to Holland Point.

Thank God it's you.

There's a blue Subaru Outback.

- Is that where you are, Holland Point? - The car. Send someone there now.

- To pick up my sister. - Wait. Your sister. Jennifer?

Yeah, he got to her.

To get to me. Like he got to the others.

Okay. We'll send someone to pick her up.

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

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, between... - Clark and Broadway. 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 the Subaru. He knows the address it's registered to.

Please tell me you're not there.

Keen. 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 thatjob 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.

That's not gonna happen.

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

About Townsend. Start 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.

Place your arms through the steering wheel, then lace your fingers.

I'm gonna step closer and open your door.

After that, release the seatbelt and step out.

Ressler, if you open that door...

- Liz, put the gun down. - Not until I get the answer I need.

Ressler, listen to me. He killed my sister. And Esi, and Skip...

- Keen, put the gun down. - Please do not do this.

I'm gonna open the door now.

Keep that right hand on the wheel.

Your left hand is gonna release your seatbelt, and step out.

- I am not letting him out. - She'll shoot me.

Keen, do not pull that trigger.

- Undo the belt. - 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 of him. - 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.

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'll do.

It breaks my heart, but Elizabeth is a fugitive, a criminal.

She'll 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.

I wish I were.

Well, we'll soon find out.

♪ Still more feedin' Economy ♪

♪ Life is funny, skies are sunny ♪

♪ Bees make money, 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 ♪

♪ But I don't know what to do ♪

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