All language subtitles for The.blacklist.S10E03.SYNCOPY+PHOENiX+MiNX+AFG.English-WWW.MY-SUBS.CO

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So let's do this, Virginia!
Let's get out the vote!

Because believe me...
I am just gettin' started!

Yes, sir!

Thank you!

One o'clock. Black jacket.

- I'm gonna check him out.
- Copy that.

Ladies and gentlemen, Thank you so much.

Thank you for coming.

Turn out your pockets for me.

Senator? Senator Panabaker.

You've been campaigning
on fiscal responsibility,

but you voted this week to increase

military spending by $90 billion.

I don't see the contradiction.

We need a strong national defense,

but we also need to make sure
that money's spent responsibly.

What we can't have
are things like my opponent

securing no-bid contracts
for his employers.

That kind of sweetheart
dealing hurts our troops

- and our taxpayers.
- But Senator...

I'm sorry. I have another event today.

That's all for now. Thank you so much!

Thank you for coming! Thank you!

My, my, my! Aren't you
a walking Hatch Act violation.

Just a regular civilian, out
here to support an old friend.

Oh, I love the sentiment.
I hate the "old" part.

Let's just call it friends
and leave it at that.

Gun! He's got a gun!

Ma'am, are you okay? Have you been hit?

I'm... I'm disarmed. I've been disarmed.

My gun's gone, too.

Do you have eyes on the...
You're bleeding.

Yeah, it... it's not mine.

Ohh!

Shots fired. Agent down.
Requesting backup.

Repeat... shots fired. Do you copy?!

My God. Harold.

What the hell just happened?!

Synced & corrected by -robtor-
www.MY-SUBS.com

It's this way.

These were once an oasis
for the wretched masses,

a respite from their squalid tenements,

where plumbing was a pipe dream

and people were kicking
their filthy buckets

in great numbers.

Of course, it took
an angry public outcry

and several cholera epidemics
to convince the City Fathers

that their citizens needed
somewhere clean and wet

to relax with a bar of soap.

Fascinating, but I can't keep doing

this back-and-forth to New York from DC.

It's a terrible waste of time.

You didn't really fly me up here
to tour an old bathhouse?

- Well, no. I...
- Wait a minute.

Are you actually living here?

This place looks like
it should be condemned!

I don't think so. It has great pipes.

And now that the steam room's
up and running, the...

Only a side project, Harold.

I summoned you up here
for more pressing business.

Is it Wujing?
Has he made some new alliance?

Plans on that front are still
in the planning stages.

Please. But no. I want to discuss

the tribulations of our dear Senator.

What a harrowing experience
for you both.

It was a matter of inches.

A few to the left, and a Secret
Service agent would have been killed.

A few to the right, and Cynthia.

And that's not the only quandary
keeping you up at night.

How to explain the stolen radios,

the disappearing guns.

It makes no sense.

We're talking about
the most highly trained,

dependable security in the country.

And yet someone brought them
to their knees.

I'm afraid you won't like the answer.

Pickpockets.

I'm sorry, but common thieves

did not disarm the Secret Service.

I'm not referring to a gang
of delinquents, Harold.

These particular pickpockets
aren't scavengers.

They're apex predators.

One o'clock. Black jacket.

- I'm gonna check him out.
- Copy that.

Thank you all
for coming. Thank you so much.

They study their prey to determine

what action will provoke
the desired reaction.

We love you, Cynthia!

- Hey! Watch it!
- Ma'am. Ma'am, step back.

And once their diversion

has you exactly where they want you,

they sink their teeth in so fast,

you never see them strike.

A highly coordinated ambush,

the entire pack moving as one.

Then they're gone.

Before you even knew they were there.

They call themselves the Four Guns.

Guns? So they are hitmen.

No. As I said, they pick pockets.

It would be beneath their
dignity to threaten violence,

and they'd certainly never use a weapon.

- So what's with the name?
- The Four Guns.

Gun as in gonif,
the Yiddish word for "thief."

But if they're not killers, then why
did they take a shot at Panabaker?

I don't think they did.

Someone else was there yesterday,

someone with a motive,

who knew the pickpockets' skill set

and how to use it to make
Panabaker vulnerable.

And whoever that someone is,
they're going to try again.

How do we stop them?

Well, in this case,

it's going to take a thief
to catch an assassin.

Reddington has connected
our gang of pickpockets

to several high-yield thefts,
mostly covert jobs.

Driftstream Industries.
A major energy conglomerate.

They lifted a two-factor
authentication key

off their CTO,
took control of their system,

and threatened to cut off fuel

to half the power plants in Texas,

fleecing the company for millions.

Sometimes their work gets more notice.

Oh, my God! Prince Erik!
I remember that.

They practically stole the crown

right off his head, poor idiot.

I'm sorry, but why
are we looking for them

when we should be focused
on finding a killer?

I mean, Panabaker's life
is on the line here.

And the Bureau is conducting
an extensive manhunt

for her would-be assassin,
but Reddington is confident

these pickpockets aided in the attack.

That means finding them
will lead us to the shooter.

So how do we find them?

Start with the scene of the crime.

You and Agent Zuma coordinate
with our Evidence Response Team.

Agent Ressler,

you should meet with the Senator's
security detail,

but I want to check in on her first,

make sure she's holding up okay.

Agent Ives won't be grabbing pickle jars

off any high shelves for a while,

but I'm praying for him,
and I just want to get back

to what I was sent to DC to do.

Great answer, Senator.
But I was there, remember?

What do you wanna hear?

That I'm terrified?

That my opponent's whipped
his base into such a frenzy

that someone actually tried to kill me?

I've read your security file.

I know why you were assigned
a Secret Service detail.

One of those men almost died for me.

Do you know what it's like
to ask a stranger

to make that kind of sacrifice?

Well, I'm no stranger,

but you put it all on the line
for me last year.

You kept me out of prison.

I want to repay my debt to you.

Has the cheese slid
all the way off your cracker?

There's a reason I put it on the line,

and it wasn't Christian charity.

Reddington blackmailed me.

You said that was all forgotten.

Forgotten. But not forgiven.

I never want to be under
that man's thumb again.

Or anyone else on his team.

Look. I'm not here to defend Reddington.

I can only focus on the future

and making sure that you're still in it.

Cynthia. Please.

What do you need from me?

Boss asked me to come here today,

but I don't have a lot of time.

Of course. I just wanna say,
I've been where you are.

My partner, she, uh...

Anyway, I hope you're getting
the, uh, support you need.

Yeah, I'll wait to deal with that

once you find the man responsible.

You said you never saw his face.

You didn't try to pursue him.

My primary directive
is to protect the Senator.

If there were other agents there, maybe,

but I would never abandon
my post to chase an assailant.

The shooter had to pass
through a metal detector

to enter the barricades, right?

Where'd the gun come from?

He shot Agent Ives
with his own service weapon.

You didn't see him or even realize

that you'd been disarmed
until much later.

I don't know how he did it.

What if I told you that he had help?

The passcode.

How'd you get it?

Patience and the right vantage point.

Who looks over their shoulder
before they type in their code.

So that's it. We did what you told us.

We don't want any further part
in... in...

whatever this is.

Do you know what it means
to be a patriot?

The tree of liberty

must be refreshed
with the blood of patriots.

I will not stop the bleeding...

until liberty is restored.

Senator, please, just hear me out.

Why press the flesh for two hours

when you can spend five minutes

with someone who can actually
bankroll your campaign?

Wait a minute. Wait a minute.

I need you to hush for a second.

Shelly, stop taking notes.

Yes, ma'am.

Actually, can you step out
for a minute, please?

Of course, Senator.

Thank you!

Is that door shut?

Yeah. What's wrong?

Jonathan, what I'm about to say
is not to leave this room.

Well, this is interesting.

"Heavenly Spheres"...
The first text to suggest

Earth is not the center of the universe.

A humbling reminder to us all.

Reading this was forbidden
by Sacred Decree.

They only printed 400 copies,
so a first edition like yours...

I'm prepared to offer you 1.2.

I'm not selling.

I want to make a trade for something.

Uh, we have a beautiful Audubon.

Something from your private collection.

Private?

I'm sure I don't know what you mean.

Oh, but I'm sure you do.

I recognized your book immediately.

It was reported stolen from
the Polish Academy of Sciences.

And two minutes ago,
you wanted to buy it from me

for a million-two.

Shall we dispense with the sanctimony?

Ah.

Their shimmer comes from an
industrial by-product... arsenic.

The Victorians were mad for it.

Put it in wallpaper, linen, lingerie.

And when they went truly mad
from toxic exposure,

doctors thought it was
hysteria, "witch fever."

We know better now.

Which is why these books
have been removed

from most other private collections.

And if one were to remove the slipcover?

Time has increased their potency.

As the binding deteriorates
and flakes off,

the arsenic enters your lungs,

eventually causing total collapse.

I know exactly which one I want.

Are you prepared to own
something so deadly?

Oh, it isn't for me. It's for a friend.

I didn't request anything.

Special delivery.

Courtesy of Raymond Reddington.

Oh, then I definitely don't want it.

Took a lot of juice to smuggle it in.

And I wouldn't refuse a gift

from a man with that kind of reach.

Please. I taught him
everything he knows.

Which is half of what I know.

Believe me. He tries anything,
I'll see it coming a mile away.

And what about me?

I'm supposed to make sure you take this.

Yeah. He'll probably kill you.

Hmm.

"Dear Robert, as Dickens said,
there are books of which

the backs and covers
are by far the best parts.

Raymond."

Cryptic bastard.

You gonna keep it?

Dickens also said, "Get hold
of portable property"...

Especially in a joint like this.

Evidence Response Team
recovered the firearms

and the radios stolen
from the Secret Service.

This is the gun that was
used in the shooting?

Where'd they find it?

Dumped in a rubbish bin near the park.

Any CCTV cameras pointed
at that trash bin?

Unfortunately, no.

Say what you will about
mass surveillance in the UK,

we would've had you covered.

Reddington said the pickpockets
don't wear gloves, right?

It would hinder their dexterity.

Great. So let's lift the prints
off this stuff.

ERT tested the whole box.
All the prints are smudged.

Pickpockets must have wiped
everything down before they tossed it.

All they got was half
a thumbprint on this radio.

Doesn't match either agent
or their families,

so it's almost certainly
one of our suspects.

But it's only a partial.

There aren't enough points
of comparison to make an ID.

I told you. It's a dead end.

There's no eyewitnesses,

no footage, no physical evidence.

You said something about a thumb.

I might be able to work with that.

Can't read it. It's not a full print.

Eh, my guy won't need a full print.

Your guy? Who's your guy?

Thank God you called.

I was on the verge. Seriously.

I can't remember the last
adult conversation I've said.

Sue's a great listener.

I'm just so sick and tired
of my own voice.

I always loved talking to Holly,
but now most of the time,

we just end up talking about Sue.

Or pooping.

- Is she asleep?
- Barely.

One little fart, and she'll be up.

And she's definitely gonna fart.

Leave her to me.
This shouldn't take long.

Alright. Good.

'Cause Holly's got us
on a pretty tight schedule.

What's the job?

I need you to identify
half a smeared thumbprint.

Alright, well, assuming

that the finger mark
is not too degraded,

I probably will be able
to get a few skin cells,

maybe even some sweat, and then
I just extract the DNA.

Easy pease, lemon squeeze.

Man. I miss this.

Don't you just love
the smell of sodium sulfate?

Is that just me?

Maybe it's time for you
to get back out there.

Yeah, I wish.

Wait. Did Holly say something?

I applied to a new crime lab.

No luck. As usual. What the hell.

Nobody at home yells at me when
I ruin the prosecution's case.

I mean, Sue yells,
but I usually can fix that

with a goofy face.

Well, let's see what you can find.

Who knows. Maybe it'll be a fresh start.

Yeah, what do you say
to that, Sue? Fresh start?

Ah, she just farted.

Thatagirl.

Hi, there.

Sweet tea. Tea.

And sweet tea with milk.

Oh. Drink up.

CODIS just matched the DNA
we got from Reddington.

Quentin Dodd, a.k.a. the Hook,

a.k.a. the Mechanic,
a.k.a. the Claw, a.k.a...

Okay, so his aliases are up to date,

but the rest of this stuff.

Last known address, 2011.
Last arrest, 2009.

Guess the guy figured out
how not to get caught.

He may have changed up his methods,

but what about his obsession?

What does that mean?

Look at what the cops found
when they arrested him.

Patek Philippe. Cartier. Piaget.

Those are five-figure watches.

Even when he was pulling
the bigger jobs,

7 times out of 10,

there was a watch somewhere
on that seizure list.

So the guy's got a weakness.
How does that help us?

It may be a long shot,
but imagine you're "the Claw."

That was some pretty sloppy work
leaving your print on that agent's radio.

Did you find that radio in a trash can?

No, 'cause I saw that radio
in a trash can,

and as I was throwing out my soy latte,

I started to pick it up, but
I didn't want to get involved.

Figured somebody threw it
there, had their reasons.

- Is that right?
- Hm.

You do understand this is
an assassination attempt

on a U.S. Senator we're talking about.

Did find my prints on the gun?

'Cause I bet not.

I mean, you may have
some DNA from the trash,

but come on, FBI,
I follow the old rules...

I never smarten up a sucker,
I never rat to the cops.

My hands are tied here
on both counts, fellas.

What about the count of grand
larceny in the third degree?

Or the second. Those were some
pretty expensive watches you stole.

Ah, but to render that verdict,

the people... that's you...
Must prove my intent

to deprive or appropriate
as defined by Penal Law 155.05.

Did you see me depriving
or appropriating?

Point of fact, did you
find anything on me at all?

You were smart enough
to stash the evidence

in case you were searched.

And we did catch you red-handed
going for my watch.

Yeah, which you said yourself
was a fake.

So if it costs less than 50 bucks,

it's a Class D bumped down
to a Class A misdemeanor.

Hardly a federal offense.

I didn't even cross any state lines.

So, with my priors,
that's a year in JCI?

And I already "graduated"
from that venerable institute,

but I'm a big believer
in continuing education.

A pickpocket?! Harold, please!

- He's more than a pickpocket.
- Oh, for Pete's sake.

I thought you'd have something
to put me at ease

before my debate.

About that.
I don't think it's a good idea.

In fact, I'd like you
to consider suspending

all public appearances
until we've had...

All appearances?
I am down 5% in the polls.

You trying to help Jerry Hayes
walk off with my seat?

It could be worse. You could be dead.

I wil be dead, politically,
if I lose reelection.

Besides, I have faith
in my team. Tell him, Will.

Director Cooper, I can assure
you that every precaution

has been taken to secure the venue.

We vetted the staff,
optimized exit routes,

and brought in an extra team.

I'm confident we can keep
the Senator safe.

I appreciate that, but, Cynthia,
if you insist on going,

then I insist on having
one of my team there.

Agent Ressler, I want you to accompany

the Senator this afternoon.

Of course.

Uh, we got a problem downstairs.

We caught the thief,
just like you told us to,

- but he wouldn't give up the shooter.
- Ah.

Apparently he knows the
penal code better than most.

We had to release him.

That's a shame.

Keep your chin up, Harold.
There's always a way.

Mr. Dodd.

I understand that you can
see into a man's pockets,

into a man's mind.

Why don't you focus that
superior perception on me,

tell me what you see?

You got me kind of handicapped here.

But let's see.

Martin Greenfield suit.
Brooklyn clothier. Nice.

Paul Stuart shoes.

You got wealth and taste,

but you don't like to draw attention.

Although, that Rolex isn't
hiding its light under a bushel.

Even a simple man has to check the time.

No car keys. You gotta go anywhere,

someone else does the driving.

Ohh! Metro? You?

No one really looks at anyone
on the subway.

That's a fair point.

No wallet or billfolds.
Just cash in your right front.

Firearm behind. An extra mag
in your right jacket.

A flip phone in your left.

Now, for your mind...

...I'll tread softly.

I assume braver men have plumbed
your depths and drowned.

The stuff you carry,

the way your smile
never reaches those eyes...

it's just humor and darkness.

A life lived too long
with little left to lose.

Except the life.

You missed something.

I didn't get a good look at your socks.

In my back pocket.

You missed all the people I keep there,

including a certain Senator
you conspired to have killed.

Whoa! I had no idea it was
gonna go down like that.

I don't know why I just told you that.

Guess I'll have to kill you now.

Please. I won't breathe a word.

Oh, but I'd like a word.

About the shooter who hired you.

I can't talk about that.

What do you think, Red?
A belt to cut off the blood?

Bit rudimentary.

Still, very effective.

You see, Quentin,

I suspected that you
might prove reticent,

and I thought an old-fashioned criminal

deserves an old-fashioned punishment.

You try to take from me,
I take your hand.

My hand? You...

You wouldn't rob me of my livelihood.

Rob a thief. How ironic.

So, we got your bone nibblers...

your shaping mallet...

...and this.

Ever smell bone dust?

The Gigli saw was invented
130 years ago,

but I still haven't found
a cleaner way to sever a limb.

Okay. I'll talk. I'll talk.

Tell me about the assassin.

My crew and I were pulling a job,

when this... security guard ambushed us.

He had footage of us at work.

He kept going on about, uh,
the sanctity of the law

and how we had to pay
for our transgressions.

He said something strange
about a "higher calling."

He was lording this evidence over us,

so we had to go along
with his crazy plan.

Now, I've met some weirdos
in my line, but this guy?

He scared me.

Where can I find him?

FBI!

- Clear right.
- He's not here.

What's with the flag?

A military signal for distress.

Is that President Diaz?

Why would an assassin take a
picture with a former President?

A disgraced former President?

Check this out.

Whoever he is, we probably
won't recognize him now.

...pockets. Any metal...

Yeah. I always set
these darn things off.

I got shrapnel lodged
in my shoulder. Check my ID.

You're gonna have to wand me.

Landlord was a bust.

The office was rented with
a fake ID, paid for in cash.

But... we sent our assassin's
little photo collage

to the FACE Services Unit, and...

we got a hit.

Lucas Roth. He's ex-Secret Service?

23-year career.

White House detail under two presidents.

Oversaw transitions, inaugurations.

Recipient of the Award for Valor.

Sounds like a hero.

So, why isn't he
with the Service anymore?

Retired at 49.

A year before he was eligible?
That's strange.

How do you know what the Secret
Service retirement age is?

It's the same as the FBI's.

- You're not thinking of...
- I'm already older than that,

but then again, I run a task
force that doesn't exist.

Could this guy's retirement have
something to do with Panabaker?

Maybe they crossed paths while
she was still White House Counsel.

I'll reach out to Roth's
former supervisor.

And I'll keep digging
into his wormy little brain.

Just take a look at this handwriting.

Serial-killer vibes.

I'm so glad we could parlay
our complicated first meeting

into a lucrative opportunity.

Are you saying I had a choice?

And how about the rest of your crew?

Us old-timers have a motto...

In with the gravy, in with the grief.

You want your share of the spoils,

you take your share of the
trouble that comes along with it.

Though I hope there's gravy
at the end of this.

With success, you'll have
enough to fill a bathtub.

Eh, shouldn't be a problem.

We just need a few days to plan,
maybe a week.

You have three hours.

Mnh. Ugh...

I can't... I can't breathe!

While working families
struggle to put food on the table.

The Senator doesn't get it.
She wants to go after...

I'm backstage. Sorry. It's hard
to hear. What've you got?

The assassin's name is Lucas Roth.

He's former Secret Service.
I just texted you some photos.

We need you to show them to Panabaker,
see if she recognizes him.

I can ask the other agents, but
Panabaker's gonna have to wait.

She's already on stage.

I consider it an honor
having served as Senator

from the state of Virginia,
but when he looks at this seat,

he sees dollar signs...

...another opportunity
to funnel contracts

to his buddies at Hutton-Crane.

Contracts mean jobs,

good jobs for people in this state.

But if that's your concern,

before I even announced my candidacy,

I resigned from Hutton's board
and divested all of my...

Divested?

Come on, Jerry. They're
your biggest contributors!

That's like a man telling
his wife he stopped cheating

when he's still going
to the clubs every night.

Your friends in the FBI investigated

these allegations at the highest level.

They found nothing.

Talk about a waste of taxpayer dollars.

Now...

Stay calm...

Wait! Senator! Where are you taking her?

Code Gray. We're initiating lockdown.

- No, I need to stay with the Senator.
- Not possible.

She's being taken to
a designated extraction point.

We're almost there, Senator.

You need to get here.
Roth might be on site.

They've evacuated everyone
to a holding area.

- They're locking down the theater.
- Wait a minute.

If they're locking everything down...

Probably just following protocol.

But our assassin's ex-Secret Service,

so he knows the protocol.

This could be a setup.

Wait. Hey. Where's Panabaker?

Don't make a sound.

Turn around. Slowly.

Senator. It's an honor.

What do we know?

Panabaker's driver said
she never made it to the car.

We've been monitoring the exits,

and she's not in the holding area.

So they can still be inside.

Sir, I have
the floor plans you asked for.

This is an old theater. A lot
of the rooms aren't marked.

Then we'll have to split up.

Search systematically, room by room.

Lock the door, Will.

- How do you know my name?
- Move.

We're in the basement.
There's no sign of Panabaker.

Here's the weird thing...

I'm not
seeing her in these notebooks, either.

I've skimmed through like 20.
Her name hasn't appeared once.

You'd think for someone
obsessed with killing her...

Right, but I have found other
names, like Will Strickland.

Wait. As in Special Agent Strickland?

Roth doesn't like him one bit.

- Lucas. Holy...
- I'd say nice to see you,

but we both know that would be a lie.

Oh, my God. You shot Ives.

A necessary sacrifice.

Necessary sacrifice? You're insane!

I have never been more lucid.

Malik's saying that Roth worked
with both Strickland and Ives.

So we've got an ex-Secret Service agent,

hates one co-worker,
takes a shot at another.

But how does Panabaker fit in?

Put the gun down.

Senator. You don't understand.

I understand if you
don't put that gun down,

you're gonna get shot.

I am going to reach into my pocket.

It is just a phone.

There's something you need to hear.

We assumed Roth was
gunning for Panabaker.

She's the public figure.
It only makes sense.

But what if she was never the target?

What if it was
the Secret Service all along?

Jonathan,

what I'm about to say
is not to leave this room.

The FBI's gonna indict
Jerry Hayes for bribery.

They got a warrant to search
his offices tomorrow afternoon.

Oh, my God.

There goes the election
for him right there.

- Congratulations, Senator.
- Don't celebrate yet.

I'm not even supposed to know.
It's highly privileged.

Obviously, this conversation
never happened.

How the hell did you get that?

Ask him. He recorded it.

W-What?! Senator, that is a lie!

You have been betrayed by the man

you trusted to keep you safe.

Senator, he shot an agent!

He is holding you here at gunpoint!

My apologies if I made you afraid.

I didn't see any other way.

Put down the gun.

No.

I won't do that.

He must face justice.

Senator!

Stand down, Will.

- Cynthia, did you...
- What?

Did you think I was gonna wait
around for you to rescue me?

I'm not exactly a shrinking violet.

Donald, I hope you've got
a second pair of those.

You need to take Agent Strickland

- into custody, as well.
- Are you kidding me?

You can't believe this crazy man!

I'll explain it back
at the office, Harold.

I need a drink.

Dr. Miller, dial 2-1-6.
Dr. Miller, dial 2-1-6.

Excuse me, miss. How do I get
to the maternity ward?

Can you believe it?
I'm gonna be a grandfather!

73 years old...

and I still remember
when my Jenny was born.

Cute as a button.

May the Lord smile upon you, my son.

Oh, Jesus.

I-I mean, I'm sorry, Father,

but if you're here... am I dying?

Nobody told me I was dying.

He who believeth in me shall never die.

Not today anyway.

Oh...

Hey! Stop right there!

Unh! Watch it!

I said stop!

Where the hell did they go?

Wh... A hearse?!

I don't think I like the implication.

Just get in already.

Okay.

Robert!

Oh, no.

No, no, no. N-No way.
I'm not getting in.

Come on, Robert.

You poisoned me with a book!

All part of the plan, Robert.
All part of the plan.

- Get in the car.
- I almost died!

Okay, so maybe there was
a 15% chance, 20% at most.

Maybe 25%. But here you are!

So, get in, sit back, and relax.
You're a free man!

- Robert.
- Alright.

When JFK was in Dallas,
he didn't want motorcycles

flanking his limo or agents
on the running boards.

It wouldn't have mattered in the end,

but the men on his detail still
regretted giving in to him.

So why did they do it?

They liked him too much.

That's why we can't get close
to the people that we protect.

If it's dangerous to like someone,

what happens when you don't?

The man that I was assigned to,
I truly loathed,

politically and personally,

but when I saw a gun pointed
at him, I didn't hesitate.

I still got the bullet
lodged right there.

You're an agent, too, so you know.

The job doesn't care how you feel,

if your wife left you,
if your child is sick.

You took a sacred oath to
protect democracy, at all costs.

But Agent Strickland?

He tarnished the star.

You have no right to hold me here.

You recorded a Senator's
private conversations.

I'd say I do.

Yeah, maybe I bumped my phone
while she was talking.

Come on, Agent Strickland.

You shared those recordings
with her opponent.

You were trying to swing
the vote against her.

Well, if you know everything...

I don't know why. Why her?

Cynthia Panabaker is unfit
to hold office.

According to who?

The voters in Virginia or just you?

He was assigned to protect her,

but he violated that sacred trust.

What about Agent Ives? The one
you shot? Was he involved?

No.

I'm a trained marksman.

I knew exactly where to aim

to get Ives benched,
but not seriously hurt.

I needed to be sure that
Strickland was running point today.

Why the elaborate plot?
Why not just report...

Report him to his superiors?!

You think I didn't try?!

The Agency is supposed to
be above politics,

but in reality...

They call it "being made" when
you get your first promotion.

It's just like the Mafia.
Loyalty is king.

If someone on your team screws up...

you're expected to look the other way.

- So they buried it?
- And they buried me.

But here's what
you need to understand...

Scandal means something different to us.

Appearing compromised

can endanger the country,
the Presidency itself.

I knew they'd never risk it!

So that's why you made the attack
so public, so they couldn't hide...

It all has to come out!

It's the only way to
restore faith in the Service.

It may cost me my life...

but I took that oath a long time ago.

You caught me.

How embarrassing.

You've been through a lot.

I couldn't let fear slow me down.

Nobody'll vote for a candidate
who's scared of her own shadow.

But I guess it got the best of me.

So, what happened?

You were recorded talking
about your opponent?

Jerry kept getting
these no-bid contracts.

They suspected he was
bribing DoD officials,

but before they could execute
the search warrant...

Your Secret Service detail
leaked your conversation,

giving him time to cover his tracks.

And then he flipped the narrative,

making it look like I was behind
some kind of witch hunt.

But the tables are turning again.

A traitor in the Service.

This'll be a massive investigation.

Everyone involved will be exposed.

Ah. Yeah. Poor Jerry.

Having your name linked
with an attempted assassin

like that is never a good look.

Have you seen tonight's news?

They're already calling you
"Cynthia Six Shooter."

Well, that's enough to win me
reelection right there.

I'll drink to that.

- No, no. You first.
- You don't trust me?

You left me to rot in cinderblock hell!

You almost killed me!

- Mmm.
- And now what?

Am I your guest or am I your prisoner?

My guest, obviously.

The caviar I serve my prisoners
is just fish eggs.

Oh, come on, Raymond. I know you.

You... You've got something
up your sleeve.

- Nothing. Not even a watch.
- Hm.

I knew he wouldn't be able
to resist the temptation,

so I installed a tracking device.

Again with the watch?

You need to seek professional help.

What if he sells your Rolex?

Doesn't matter now.

I'm about to learn
the location of his hideout,

should I require
his services in the future.

You see? You always have an angle.

And I'm the one who taught you that.

Okay, okay, fine.

So you do have a plan.

There. Surprise ruined.

- Happy now?
- Yeah.

Oh, no. I'm not touching that.

Wait.

Is that "Treasure Island"?

Okay.

So that's why you busted me out.

There's no hidden message, Robert.

This is just a simple gift.

No, no, no. You gave me "Oliver Twist"

because it's about an old man
teaching a young kid

how to be a criminal.

Plus, they're pickpockets. Now, this...

Are we sure the arsenic
didn't damage your brain?

It says "Treasure" right here
in the title, Raymond!

Just a little? We should really
get your head examined.

You are not coming near my head.

Oh, no.