All language subtitles for NCIS.New.Orleans.S01E07.Watch.Over.Me.720p.WEB-DL.DD5.1.H.264-CtrlHD_track3_[eng]

MAN:
Rise and shine, New Orleans.
Monday morning.

Where you at?
Probably stuck in traffic.

So be careful today,
be patient, because we all know

as bad as the gridlock is,
some of the drivers are worse.

(tires screeching)

Someone call 911!

♪ Boom, boom, boom, boom ♪

♪ Bang, bang, bang, bang ♪

♪ Boom, boom, boom, boom ♪

♪ How, how, how, how ♪

♪ Hey, hey ♪

♪ You gotta come on. ♪

That's a beaut.

PRIDE:
Yes, it is.

First car I bought Linda
after we got married.

Been sitting in the garage.

Had it towed over
this morning.

What's the problem?

Well, you know,
marriage.

Hard enough as it is,
and then...

when you're not living
in the house...

You meant the car, didn't you?

You want to know what's wrong
with the car?

You know I'm always here
for you, King.
Yeah.

Engine won't turn over.

Promised I'd get it fixed.

Know what you're doing?

Absolutely.

Try the key.

Say when.

Go.

(engine sputtering)

Hang on.

All right, give it a go.

(engine sputtering)

That's enough!

You know, I got
a mechanic

that fixed my sister's car
when no one else could.

You want his number?
I got this.

Dead Navy officer
in the Quarter.

Car was run off the road.

All right,
let's get to it.

What's with the car?
It's Linda's.

What's the problem?

Well, you know, King's not
living at home anymore.

The car, Christopher.

She also means

the car.

According to witnesses,
we've got two cars speeding

down Conti at 9:30 this morning.

Sedan traded paint with an SUV,

forced it into this
construction site.

Victim died
on impact.

So, what, road rage?

Something like that.

Got plates on the sedan?

Witnesses say
there weren't any.

Just tinted
windows, black car,

big dent in
the bumper.

No matter how quiet
and gentle the soul,

you get 'em behind a wheel
and suddenly they revert

to the most base
and primal.

I know. I've
driven with you.

(chuckles)
Okay. From the driver's license.

The deceased is
Commander Darby Wilson.

Worked at the Office
of Naval Research.

Local guy.

Born and raised
in Metairie.

We could play
Guess the Cause of Death,

but the giant rebar

sticking
through our victim's chest

makes the game
kind of pointless.

They put out the
flames fairly quickly.

Luckily, the corpse
is mostly intact.

PRIDE:
What do we got here?

Receipt says
it was purchased last night.

6:12 p.m.

LASALLE:
I never understood
the appeal

of jewelry.
Expensive, easy to lose,

and doesn't do anything but
just sit on your body.

Says the perennial bachelor.

My mother had a locket
with my father's picture from...

when he was in boot camp
before Vietnam.

The point of a locket
isn't the jewelry itself.

It's what the giver chooses
to put inside.

To be determined.

I'll put a BOLO out
on that sedan.

See if any
surveillance cameras get us

a better look
at the driver.

Something else, Dwayne.

He's got bare feet.

His shoes are nowhere
in the car.

LASALLE:
Who gets in a car

without shoes?

Someone in a rush.

Let's assume
that whatever ended here

started somewhere else.

Where the hell
was he coming from?

PRIDE:
Got a GPS.

LASALLE:
Which means...

...I can do my thing.

39163 Delgado Avenue.

PRIDE:
Commander Wilson's house?

LASALLE:
Matches the address
on his license.

Hey, listen to this.

Wilson was 40 years old,
already made commander.

Tours in Iraq, Afghanistan.
Numerous commendations.

And he could be dead
'cause someone couldn't handle

getting cut off
in traffic.
Hey.

On my lead.

NCIS!

Clear.

Chris.

So it's not likely this has
anything to do with road rage.

Nope. Something
much bigger going on.

Busy morning.

You're telling me.

We got any more
on our victim?

Our first victim?
Yeah.

Commander Wilson's assignment
with the Office

of Naval Research
had him working

as a technical liaison
for private developers.

Special access,
top secret clearance.

Take his computer. Call in...
Patton Plame.

I'll get him
to run a diagnostic.

And our second victim.

She's, what,
Commander Wilson's wife?

That would be a no.

This is Commander Wilson's wife.

Katherine Wilson.
The naked woman in the bathroom

is Rebecca Ortega.

She's Wilson's assistant
at the ONR.

Found her purse
in the kitchen.

One gunshot to the head,
one to the neck.

Clean entry wounds.
My guess-- nine-millimeter.

Time of death?

Based on rigor, 9:00, 9:15.

Less than 15 minutes
before Commander Wilson dies

in the crash.

Who else finds it odd that
an assistant is taking a bath

at her boss's house
at 9:00 in the morning?

PRIDE:
And if the
commander's wife knew

what was going on,
wonder how she'd react.

Before I forget,

it's the number to the
mechanic I told you about.

No, thanks. I'm good.

I'm telling you, King, this
guy can get a turtle to run.

And I'm telling you
I got this, Christopher.

(sighs)

Bart Roberts.
He lives next door.

Tell Agent Pride here about
Commander Wilson and his wife.

Well, that was a couple
that just loved to argue.

Bart says
that Wilson's assistant Rebecca

spent some late nights here.

They in a relationship?

Well, I can't say that for sure,

but alls I will say is...

I would've tapped that.
(chuckling)

I mean, God rest her soul
and all that.

You have a good day now.

So, we've got a marriage
on the rocks,

husband seems to be
having an affair.

Disgruntled wife shoots
husband's lover

and then runs him
off the road.

Or gets someone else to.

See this blood?
It came off a shoe.

I sprayed it with BlueStar.
Look at the size.

Big. Not a woman's.

It wasn't from the commander.
He was barefoot.

I found some more blood spots
in the hall, too.

Shoe prints match.

So, wife gets someone
to do the deed.

He shoots Rebecca
in the bathroom,

but the commander
was able to escape,

flees the house.

Bad guy follows,
gets to the car,

ends in a crash.

All right.

Start with the wife's
personal assets.

See if she had the finances
to pay someone to do this.

$20,000 withdrawn from
Katherine Wilson's bank account

48 hours ago.

Enough to get you a hired gun.

(indistinct chatter)

Hey, King,

who are the uniforms?

Intelligence specialists
out of Belle Chasse.

Revamp on their HQ
just started.

Until it's done,
I told them

they could have
offices in the back.

LASALLE:
By the way, got a response

from the Office
of Naval Research.

"Given the access

"the commander had,
we are concerned

"about the sensitive information

that might have been
taken off his home computer."

If they're concerned,

I want to know
who they're concerned about.

You two go to ONR.

I'll talk to the $20,000 wife.

You looked into my bank records?

We did.

Mind explaining why...

you withdrew
$20,000 last week?

My husband is dead,
and you're questioning...

my finances?

We're required
to cover our bases, Mrs. Wilson.

I didn't kill my husband.

We were having issues, yes.

I saw him yesterday
at the house

to go over the terms
of our divorce.

Was it contentious?

It's divorce.

And nothing more?

Meaning?

The other victim at the house,

the woman who
was killed.

Rebecca. Yes, I heard.

She was there early
in the morning.

Odd time for an assistant
to be with a boss.

And...
there was this.

In his car.

Recognize it?

Any idea who it was for?

Not for me, it seems.

Unless you'd like
to arrest me...

I think I should
probably go start

planning my husband's funeral.

MAN:
We're... in shock.

Commander Wilson
and Rebecca were...

amazing people.

Commander Wilson had...

a bright future in the service.

What kind of sensitive intel
was the commander privy to?

Drones, missile defense,

all the latest
technology.

Any issues there
or breaches of intelligence

with Commander Wilson?

Well, I'd love
to talk specifics,

but that information's
classified.

Is there anything
you could offer us?

Darby and Rebecca spent
much of the past year on-site

with a private
defense contractor.

Uh, Axelrod Industries.

If there were issues,
they'd be someone

you should talk to.

One other question.

Did you get a sense
that Commander Wilson

and Ms. Ortega's relationship
extended beyond work?

Um, excuse me. The admiral's
requesting your signature.

Darby and Rebecca
were close, but...

given our strict
disclosure policies,

they'd have to come to us
with a relationship.

Or keep it an office secret.

I suppose anything's
possible.

LASALLE:
We're going to need
to bag and tag

the files, the tablet,

everything in the
commander's office.

Excuse me.

Miss?

Special Agent Brody with NCIS.

I was wondering
if there was something

you might want to tell me.

I... I don't.

Just needed a signature
at that exact moment?

Time-sensitive?

There was nothing going on
between Darby and Rebecca.

How do you know that?

Because I'm the office secret.

You and Darby?

Me and Becca.

Darby and Becca
were very close.

They worked crazy
hours together.

She slept there some
nights, but trust me...

...Rebecca wasn't into him.

(sobbing):
I'm in so much pain.

I mean, we were in love,
and now she's...

she's...

...gone.

I'm so sorry for your loss.

So there was
no affair?

Which doesn't mean the wife
didn't think there was.

And I'd like to know more
about that withdrawal.

But she didn't strike me as
the kind of lady that would...

bump off two people
on a hunch.

Ah, speaking
of hunches--

and I don't know
what this means--

but I found a small patch
of a sticky substance

on the commander's right wrist.

Run any tests?

The old-fashioned kind: smell.

Tobacco?

Mm-hmm. In resin form.

Which is odd,
because the commander

has the cleanest lungs
I've ever seen.

Makes you wonder:

Why is it there, and where
exactly did it come from?

Sebastian's running
further tests on the resin

so we could learn more.

Nobody move.

Speaking of...

(slow, steady beeping)
Hotter.

(beeping accelerates)
Hotter.

(beeping slows)
That's colder.

What are we doing?

Trying to beat back
the prying eyes

of our great overlords.

(beeping continues)

Sebastian.

Sorry. It's my
anti-hacking app.

When someone tries to steal
information from my phone,

the app starts beeping,
and it's telling me

that the source of the hack
is somewhere in this room.

(beeping continues)
Hotter.

(beeping accelerates)

Hotter.

(beeping accelerates)
Singeing.

Inferno.

(rapid beeping)
Um...

it's saying that the source
is inside the body.

In the body?

(rapid beeping)
Yeah. Uh, there.

Right... there.

I was just
about to check

the contents of the
stomach anyway.

Oh.

Something's imbedded
in the stomach lining.

Looks like a microchip.

May I see that
for a second?

SEBASTIAN:
Oh, wow.

Seriously,
like, wow.

I-I had heard this kind
of thing was in development,

but to actually see one... Wow.

See one what, Sebastian?

Uh, a biotracker.

It's a spy tool--
something that you put
inside another person.

And then when that person
is near an electronic signal,

like a computer or a phone, the
biotracker steals that signal.

Phone calls are tapped,
e-mails are hijacked.

Like swallowing
a recording device?

Yeah.
So what you're saying...

Commander Wilson
was being spied on?

I am saying that Commander
Wilson was being spied on...

from inside
his own body.

Biotracker is the purest fusion
of biology and electronics.

There's a whole branch of tech

devoted to craziness
just like this.

It's all the rage
with guys like me.

Hackers like you.

Investigative
computer specialists.

Too legit to quit.

Okay, MC Hammer,

how do you get a
biotracker into someone?

Well, as you can see,
they're very tiny.

Normally,
they're hidden in a pill.

Any chance he could have
swallowed it himself?

Not unless
he's a crazy-ass.

Those things are not tested;
they're dangerous.

Commander Wilson was
on cholesterol meds.

Maybe somebody slipped
the biotracker

into one of those?
Uh...

they might have planted trackers
in multiple pills.

Like anything
other than...

cheese, biotrackers can pass

through your system within days.

So the info
the biotracker steals

can be transmitted somewhere--
can you track where it goes?
Nah.

That's beyond
even my considerable powers.
But this is not

something a jealous wife
would be using?

Not unless she's a wife with

multimillions
in research funding.

The people who work with the ONR
have those resources.

And the place
Wilson was assigned--

Axelrod Industries.
I'll take Axelrod.

You two figure out who,
other than his wife,

had access to his meds.

How you doing with
Wilson's computer?

Oh, I'm into it.

I'll tell you what,

this puppy is buttoned up
tighter than a...

very...

tightly...

buttoned-up puppy.

Okay, I got lost
in the middle of that one.

Agent Pride.
Welcome.

Oscar Randolph,
head of security.

Got to do this sweep.
My apologies.

Understood.

At this point,
we're trying to learn

everything we can
about the work

Commander Wilson
was involved in.

Right. So, he was
the go-between

on a number of projects we
were building for the Navy.

Darby was charged
with helping us

integrate the work into
the Navy's systems.

Laser-based
helicopter landing aid,

hypervelocity
missile system...

How about biotrackers?

Not on our radar.

But they're cool.

Agent Pride, do you
think they were killed

because of Darby's
work here?

We're exploring
all possibilities.

You'd be right
to be concerned.

My employees have had
issues in the past.

Routine attempts
at hacking into our system,

extortion, espionage...
Terrorist organizations?

From al-Qaeda to the Red Hacker
Alliance out of Beijing.

Our employees have targets
on their backs-- that's why

we do everything in our power
to keep them safe.

But the truth is,
the technologies we develop

are the cutting edge.

They're worth killing for--

a fact we're,
admittedly,

quite proud of.

Here's my problem.

It's hard to investigate
what's not there anymore.

Darby's entire system
was wiped remotely

three hours
after his death.

So all gone?

Gone, but not
really gone.

See, gone is never
totally gone.

I use some...

complier code, maybe
a packet sniffer.

If I'm lucky,

I'll find a zero day exploit.

And here's where
I pretend like I know

what that means.
Oh, it means,

I'm gonna be on it,

like a woman on a bicycle,

with somewhere to go.

Analogies are
not your strong suit.

LASALLE:
The lab wants us.

SEBASTIAN:
Afternoon, friends.

Mr. Lund.

Mr. Plame.

How's my favorite
conspiracy theorist doing?

I prefer the term
"creative realist."

Well, not many realists I know
believe that the government

is developing time travel
technology in Area 51.

Yeah, not many skeptics I know
have read

the redacted files
that I have, so...

There is a reason
you called?

Yes. The substance
found on Wilson's wrist

was, in fact, tobacco resin.

SEBASTIAN: I isolated
the cotinine properties

and found that
this particular type,

the Roman Shisha,
is somewhat rare.

It's also only used
for hookah smoking.

It's only sold
in a few local spots.

And the resin can be
wiped out quite easily,

but it was still
on Commander Wilson,

which means he likely
encountered it

within hours
of his death.

Yeah, so I grabbed the log
that Lasalle downloaded

from the GPS
in Commander Wilson's car,

and I cross-referenced it
with hookah bars in the city...

And... boom-shaka.

Boom what?

Boom-shaka. I'm just...

to punctuate
meaningful discoveries.

And in this case,
that discovery would be...?

That Commander Wilson parked
his car near a place called

the Sahara Room at 10:00 p.m.
the night before he died.

Late meeting in a hookah bar?

By a nonsmoker.
Well, it ain't
time travel

at Area 51, but still it's odd.

Okay, I'm telling you
it's a real...

And how this is all
connected with the world

of biotrackers
and high technology?
I don't know,

but it's worth looking
into. Sebastian.

Yeah?
Send me the address
to that hookah bar.

I got you.

Surveillance camera
footage from Sahara East.

Hostess says
Commander Wilson was there

meeting this guy.

They were having
an intense conversation.

But hostess couldn't hear them,
'cause they were whispering.

He looks like a
burnt marshmallow.

Camera had an inch of
dust over the lens.

Even Bruce is stumped.

Think Bruce could fix the car?

Only I call him Bruce.

Pride ever consider
a mechanic?

I asked. He said no.

I don't get it. I've only
known Pride a couple months,

but it seems like if he
wanted to get it fixed...
He wouldn't be

snapping at me for giving him
the number of my mechanic.

Incoming.

Anything on
the surveillance video?

Nope. No, sir. Nada.

Question: When exactly did
Wilson meet our mystery man?

Time stamp says the night
before the murder, 10:06 p.m.

Wilson's wife mentioned
meeting her husband

earlier that same day.

Wonder if Wilson
told her anything

about his other meeting.

Never hurts to ask.

♪ ♪

Christopher?

LASALLE:
Hey, King, what you got?

Christopher, I got the car
that chased Commander Wilson

parked in front of
the wife's house.

(woman screams)

Gonna need backup.
LASALLE: On our way.

NCIS.

(muffled grunting)

You okay?
Yeah.

All right, stay here.

(man panting and grunting)

(car door opens, engine starts)

(kettle whistles, stops)

You okay?

I don't get any of this.

The-the person
who murdered my husband

is also coming after me?

At the moment,
we're focused on the possibility

that something about
your husband's work

was the reason for his death.

Is there anything
he might have

told you or left at your house
or-or gave you to keep

that could put you in danger?

No. No, he hasn't been
to my house in weeks,

and we don't really talk much.

Certainly not
about his work.

BOLO's out based on
Mrs. Wilson's description.

Got eyes on the ground
and in the air.

Don't worry, ma'am,
we'll find the guy.

Katherine, I need you
to remember anything you can.

Uh, it just happened
really fast.

I mean, I'm trying. I...

I came home, and...

he was there.

He grabbed me by my hair,
and he...

Sorry.
PRIDE: It's all right.

It's all right. You're safe now.

Just one more question.
Okay.

The last time
you saw your husband,

did he mention anything
about meeting someone

later in the day?

Shang. He's this... I...

Someone named Shang. He...

said he was a colleague.

All right, all right,

that's good, that's good.

Add Shang to the BOLO.

And I'll talk to ONR.

Cross-reference the name against
anyone Wilson worked with.

Yeah. Two murders

and an attempt
on Mrs. Wilson.

I think it's time maybe
we move her to the safe house

till the killer's
in custody.

I'll set it up.

Have Brody pack her a bag.

You got it, King.

You mind taking
a couple steps back?

Just a precaution.
(radio static humming)

I used to have a radio
like this growing up.

Turn it up real loud
when my parents would argue.

Mom drank too much,

Dad yelled and the music
just made it easier.

(distorted speaker, music)

(static)

(high-pitched tone,
distorted speaker)

♪ I know it's hard to love me ♪
There.

I love that song.

♪ But you sure enough
did try... ♪

Darby didn't like music.

He was no-nonsense.
Always on point.

Which, when
I met him, I loved.

But time passes

and the differences
you fell in love with just...

oh, start to be differences.

You're married.

I am.

You know what I'm talking about.

Yeah, it's tough

when things get broken.

You hungry?

Yeah, I don't think
I've eaten in days.

We got...

peanut butter,
rice, baked beans

and a can of salsa.

You can make a meal out of that?

You don't know
who you're talking to.

MAN:
Thanks, Brody.

The intelligence
specialists--

they took my potato salad,

didn't even ask.

Come on.

Well, you don't
eat potato salad,

I didn't eat it,
and King ain't here.

That leaves us one option.

We got thieves
in our midst.

They made coffee.
That's nice.

(computer dings)

Whatever.

Here we go.

Meet Shang Lee.

Commander Wilson's
colleague.

Wilson's friend
from the hookah bar.

Shang used to work
at Axelrod Industries--

technology officer.

Mr. Axelrod says
he fired Shang a year ago.

Accused him of trying to sell
blueprints to a competitor.

Could be what the
biotracker is about.

An attempt to learn
what Wilson was working on

at Axelrod so Shang
could resell it.

Maybe Wilson finds out...

Shang has to silence him.

Where's Shang Lee now?

Looks like he's in the wind.

Well, let's find him.

And whoever stole
my potato salad.

There are billions
of galaxies out there.

How can you not believe

in the existence
of extraterrestrial life?

I mean, there are billions of
opportunities for life to grow.

Billions of...
Sebastian, I invited you

to help me, not to say
"billions" a billion times.

We just... We can't be
the only pebble in space

whose inhabitants get their
celestial groove on, you know?

Whose fish
swim upstream.

Whose sole purpose

is to procreate and continue
a dysfunctional species.

Any progress
with Wilson's computer?

We're getting there. Sebastian
actually had a decent thought.

Potato salad.

Want some?

So, to get into

encrypted Area 51 files,

hackers used a neural
network decryption algorithm.

Allegedly. Anyway,

we applied the same
algorithm to the commander's

computer and...
SEBASTIAN
Boom-a-bam-bam.

Boom-diggidy.

That's...

Boom-vroom?

Don't ever say that again.

All right.

We got Commander Wilson's
download history.

His last download was 8:30,
about an hour before he died.

He put some files on an SD card.

What was on the files?
We don't know yet-- a lot
of layers of encryption.

Looked like some
classified stuff.

But we're getting into it.

(blues music playing)

Seconds?

I got to admit, the
food's not terrible.

High praise.
(chuckles)

What you got there?

Found it in the cabinet.

Thought this was a
secure safe house.

We share it with
other agencies.

Can't vouch for everyone.

Is it okay if I...
You can.

No. I'm the one with the gun.

Got to take a pass.

Darby took a cooking class once.

He was so bad.

I mean, he really tried.
It was sweet.

He wanted to learn my favorite
food-- beef bourguignon--

and cook it for my birthday.

Sounds like a good guy.

He was.

I didn't want it to end.

With Darby.

The divorce was...

all we could think to do.

Couple weeks ago, I tried
signing up for an online

dating service,

but when I went
to complete the profile, I...

couldn't do it.

Somehow that step--

more than the divorce, even--

felt like...

A line you...

just can't uncross.

You get it.

Katherine.

I...
(phone beeping)

I need to deal with this.
Uh, yeah, of course.

MAN:
One of the stable hands
found him.

Was shoeing a horse,
noticed this horrible smell.

Kind of like... spoiled cheese.

Use these
stables much?

Not in years.

This is a great place to hide
something you don't want found.

Thank you, sir.

(sighs)
There's the smell.

Definitely... spoiled cheese.

Good afternoon, Loretta.

Brody, Christopher, come
meet Shang Lee in the flesh.

Rotting as it is.

We found him submerged
in this trough of fetid water.

Cause of death is
two gunshot wounds to the chest.

Caliber appears to
be nine millimeter.

Same weapon
that killed Rebecca Ortega.

I'll have Sebastian check
ballistics, but I'm guessing...

Striations match.

Time of death?

Based on decomp, bloating and
lividity, I'd say Shang Lee

died hours before
the other two victims.

Might want to call Pride.

Tell him the killer's
still on the loose.

Yeah. Well, do that.

I take it that call doesn't
mean the danger's over?

(sighs)

Not yet, no.

Get down!
(groans)

(gunfire)

(gunfire continues)

(bullets ricocheting)

(gunfire)

(engine revving)

KATHERINE:
So, what happens now?

If... whoever it is...

can find you out here
in the middle of nowhere,

it's better we bring
you back to the office.

More security.

We'll keep you
under 24-hour watch.

Listen, I'm...

sorry about... before.

Don't give it
another thought.

Can I ask you a question?

Where'd you get that bracelet?

Darby, my 30th.

Your earrings?

Yeah, Darby, also.
All silver?

It's the only kind
of jewelry I can wear

without breaking into hives.

That's what the
locket was made of.

It clearly was
not for Rebecca.

It matches everything
else you wear, and...

You think he...
He bought it for you.

And maybe

it became the perfect
hiding place for something else.

The only thing he took
as he ran for his life

was the necklace.

And an SD card
can be very small.

(phone dialing)

LASALLE:
Pride says recheck the locket.

I thought
he checked it at the scene.

Nothing in here.

How big is an SD card?

Can be about the size
of your thumbnail.

This thing's stuck.

May I?
Absolutely.

So, my mother was always worried
about losing her locket.

This is what she would do
with a faulty clasp.

Mm. Yeah.

Looks like
there's something in there.

How do you like them apples?

Let me get that, kids.

Let's see
what all this killing is about.

Okay. Here we go.

LASALLE:
What the hell is this?

So, that ain't good.

Wait a minute.

There's another file on here.

It's a memo. It's unfinished.

Dated two days
before Wilson's death...

to the Navy.

Wilson was accidentally cc'd

on an e-mail with a video
of Axelrod's missile system.

LASALLE:
There's a defect
with the targeting mechanism,

but he's waiting
on a second opinion

before notifying
his superior officer.

Shang Lee could have been
that second opinion.

He knew how Axelrod worked.

They're cleaning up
all their loose ends,

which is probably why
they went after Katherine.

She met with Wilson at his house
the day before he died.

Must be scared
they told her something.

Yeah, but the question is:

Who at Axelrod
screwed up big-time,

sent that e-mail, and then
tried to cover their tracks?

I'm on it.

This is great.
Just send me the specs.

NCIS. Don't move.

Whoa. What are you doing?

Hey.

Miss Schwartz,
you need to come with us.

Wait. What? (scoffs)

Jason, I'm sure
this is a terrible mistake.

This is insane. I don't know
what you're thinking,

but I can promise you,
you have the wrong person.

Hold that thought, please.

(beep)

You recognize him?

Allow me
to refresh your memory.

Oscar Randolph, head of security
for your company,

the man you e-mailed
ten minutes after you realized

Commander Wilson
had accidentally

received the failed
missile test.

Ex-paramilitary,
trained killer,

experience using nine-millimeter
and sniper weaponry.

Shoe size matches
the prints we found.

And he sings
like a canary.

About biotrackers
in cholesterol meds

kept at work,

murder for hire,

and lost million-dollar bonuses

if a missile deal
were to go south.

(knocking)

(beeping)

Here's the deal.

You talk before Agent Pride gets
in this room,

and we'll tell the judge to show
leniency; you stay silent...

Take your chances
with the needle.

Okay, please, please, please.

You have to know,
I never told him

to kill Rebecca.
She wasn't supposed to be there.

You'll tell the judge that,
right?

(door opening)

(door closes)
Mr. Randolph
in there--

he... he wants his lawyer.

He's not talking.

Wait. What?!

Yep. Conversation

wasn't very fruitful,
but it did give me

time to put together
my grocery list.

Need anything?

Katherine?

You can go home now.

It's over?

Nothing else
to worry about.

I got to say, though,

protective custody
has its advantages.

Company wasn't half bad.

(chuckles)

Oh. I thought you might
like to have it.

Looks nice.

Darby had good taste.

I should go.

You still at it?

Yeah. Cars can be stubborn.

That ain't the
only thing.
(laughs)

I've been thinking why you
haven't fixed the car yet.

What'd you come up with?

Well, if the car doesn't work,
Linda's gonna keep calling.

Keeps her in your life.

Once it's fixed,
less reason to call.

(engine starts)
Ah.

(laughs)

Not going to Linda.
I'm selling it.

Yeah, packed her things,

closed up the house,
went to her sister's.

We both decided
it was for the best.

So, is this permanent?

(engine revs loudly)

Don't you love
the sound of that?

Go for a ride?

You gonna let me drive?

Not a chance.

(music playing over stereo)

♪ Fire on the bayou ♪

♪ Gonna do it like you wanna ♪

♪ Fire ♪
♪ Hey, now, on the bayou ♪

♪ Come on, everybody ♪

♪ Fire ♪
♪ Hey, now, on the bayou. ♪

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Captioned by
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access.wgbh.org