All language subtitles for The Blacklist 21+22

Dembe Zuma?

It's for you.

Hello?

Dembe, that was
incredibly reckless
calling to warn me off.

Raymond, how did you know
I was at the mosque?

What were you thinking?

I was thinking about death...

possibly yours
or some hapless FBI agent.

I see. Well,
it was foolhardy,
short-sighted.

And it worked.

But at what cost?

You've done something
in the last few years

I never thought possible.

You wiped your slate clean.

You joined the FBI
of all things.

Don't go throwing away
your future on my account.

Nobody knows I made the call.

Good. That Congressman
is looking for any excuse,

especially when
it comes to you.

So don't do me any more favors.

I won't.

I'm going to
bring you in, Raymond.

That's the spirit.

I'm serious.

I hope so. For your sake.

Be safe, Dembe.

You, too.

Chuck, slight change of plans.

How quickly can you get ahold
of our friend Bertha?

Come on, people. Debrief in 20.

I want to hear some good news.

Mr. Cooper, perhaps you can
explain something to me.

Reddington blew up his own jet
to get away from us.

Then he turns around,

comes all the way
back to the city

just so you two can have
a cozy chat in your kitchen?

How does that make any sense?

It doesn't,
but his behavior rarely does.

Not from the outside, anyway.

Well, I guess
we should be grateful

for his lapse in judgement.

Barricades went up as soon
as you reported the incident.

This entire area has been
shut down and sealed off.

He was last seen driving this,
a 2018 Nissan Leaf.

He disabled the GPS,
but we got the plate number,

so our first order of business
is to find that car.

I'm sorry, but our
first order of business

should be to throw out
the playbook.

You may want
to think of Raymond

as an ordinary criminal.

That would be a mistake.

I realize you all
spent years with the man,

and you feel like
you know him better--

It's been over a decade,
and I still don't know him.

But there are a few things
we should probably explain.

His personal assets
are in the billions,

the scope of his influence,
basically unlimited.

And those are just
his external resources.

It's his mind you should
be worried about.

No matter where he is,

the time of day,
weather conditions.

He has escape routes
within escape routes.

Okay, keys and money
are in the envelope.

The car's outside.
Oh, and take this card.

If you get arrested,
call the number,

somebody'll bail you out.

Have a nice drive.

Keys and money
are in the envelope.

Your car's outside.
Take this card.

If you get arrested,
call the number,

somebody'll bail you out.

Have you ever heard
the expression

"He sleeps with one eye open"?

I've actually seen him do that.

I think what
we're trying to say is,

he's a real tricky customer.

The way you all build him up,

it almost sounds
like you admire him.

Oh, it's not admiration,
it's a warning.

Well, I don't care
if he's Lex Luthor.

Reddington is not
getting outside--

MPD just flagged his plate!

Heading east over
Woodrow Wilson Bridge.

Damn, he got past
the police barricade?

Let's get choppers in the air.

We need to shut all traffic
heading down towards--

Sir, sir. Virginia State
troopers just pulled over

a Nissan Leaf
moving west on I-66.

-The plate's a match.
-How the hell is he--

I don't understand this.

Aviation Command says
that they're circling him

on the Anacostia Freeway,
same plate, same car.

I'm not gonna find him
in any of these cars, am I?

I'm afraid not.

Within hours
he's somehow floods DC
with identical cars,

so we spend the day
chasing our tails
like a bunch of idiots?

Confusion, misdirection...

this is how he operates.

It's kept him safe
for over 30 years on the run.

But you do have one advantage
in this case.

What's that?

Us.

I've gotta make a call,

I'll be back.

Agent Ressler,
I wanted to find a moment
to offer my condolences.

Jon Pritchard was a good man--

You know what?
Don't, just don't.

Okay, I just--
I hope you don't
blame yourself--

Enough!

That's enough now.

Take him up to my office.

You all right?

Fine. Fine. I shouldn't've--

-Arthur--
-His friend died. Let it go.

Mr. Cooper.

Don't forget why you're here.

We all want the same thing.

All right, people,
let's focus up!

The name of the game
is Raymond Reddington.

He's inside that perimeter,

and if he's crawled
into some rat hole,

I wanna know where!

Last Sunday at Perkins,

I put a couple of these
hazelnut creamers in my purse.

Paula, did you happen to read
the paper this morning?

Nope. Too much gloom and doom.

Save me the obits, though.

It's a great way
to find eligible men.

One woman's widower
is another woman's gain,

I suppose.

I want to hear your best
funeral pick-up line,

but first, Paula,

there's something important
we need to discuss.

Take a breath.

I'm fine.

Clearly
you're not fine.

And that's understandable.
But you can't go around
punching Congressmen.

Especially that one.

Just checking to see
if you're okay.

It suddenly feels
very crowded in here.

You realize the investigation
is happening down there?

Yeah, I can't with them.

At the risk of sounding
unprofessional, same.

I realize
I haven't known Reddington

as long as you have,

but it still feels weird

teaming up with strangers
to hunt him down.

I don't want to lose my dental,

so don't tell the windbreakers
down there, but...

part of me is rooting for Red.

Maybe
part of me is, too.

But personal feelings aside,

the five of us have a decision
to make right here, right now.

This team has always
had one mission,

to bring criminals to justice.

When Reddington was with us,
he understood that.

But he's chosen to walk away.

And now those men down there

have asked us
to deliver him up.

We could make their jobs harder
if we want to.

But what would that
say about us?

They want us to find Reddington
to save our own skins.

But I want us to find him
because that's who we are.

Now, if you don't agree,

if you can't commit
to using everything you have

to bring Reddington
in to face justice head on,

then you should step aside.

Okay then.

Now we just have to figure out
where the hell he is.

One thing's for sure,

he's gonna get outta DC
as soon as possible.

Andrea? It's Raymond.

I'm curious,

what homes do you have
right now on the market?

Something small, modest,

east of Capitol Street,
south of the Mall.

I do have one a little further
west in Adams Morgan.

Updated kitchen,

nice hardwood floors...

No, no, no.
That won't do, I'm afraid.

My needs are quite specific.

Okay.

I have something
on Westover Drive,

bit of a fixer-upper.

Actually, never mind.

Too much fixer,
not enough upper.

Is it owner-occupied?

No, it's vacant.

Hmm. Sounds perfect.

It's a total gut.

I don't even think
it has a functioning toilet.

Not to worry, Andrea.

We'll be taking it right down
to the foundation.

You understand what I'm saying?

-The foundation? Right.
-Excellent.

How soon
can you pull down the sign?

We've identified
17 different locations

where Reddington
might have gone to ground
inside the containment zone.

Businesses connected
through Morgana Logistics,

underworld hideouts
he frequented,

and addresses
of his known associates.

Agent Zuma,
you've been awfully quiet.

Don't you have some ideas
from your history?

What exactly are you implying,
Congressman?

Over the years,
there have been a lot of keys
and a lot of doors.

I could draw you a map,
but I'm quite sure Raymond

has changed his protocol
since I've--

We've tried to explain to you
that Raymond doesn't do any...

Please, please,
no more speeches
about his brilliant mind.

We need to get rolling.

Everyone, listen up.

We've got a list
of 17 locations.

Reddington could be hiding out
in any one of them.

I need you to break into teams
and work down the list.

You're gonna be searching
private homes and businesses.

There may be civilians on site,

they may be hostile
to your efforts.

So I expect you
to exercise caution,

but I want all these places
cleared by end of day.

You've got a hunch, don't you?

And it's not
on that list, is it?

So why don't you...

Because if I'm wrong,

I would hate to cause
this person

any unnecessary distress.

If Reddington's
holed up with them,

they must be a formidable ally?

Not really.

But Raymond
really loves her Scotcheroos.

Her what?

Everyone's clear
on the timeline?

It's an awfully short window.

Our girl's built for speed.

I don't think
it'll be a problem.

How's she look?

Gorgeous as the day
we bought her.

All righty.

Forgive me, Paula.

I came to visit you,

and here I am
chatting away on the phone.

I assume
you have a good reason.

My Jellybean used to keep lines
of people waiting at the DMV

just to take the girls out
for a tinkle.

He loved those poodles.

I'm glad you brought that up.

I've been pondering Glen.

I've been trying to think
of a fitting

and more permanent way
to honor his memory.

A trust or a foundation,

a charitable something,
something in his name.

But what would make sense
for Glen?

I thought of the people
he's touched in his life,

his colleagues at the DMV,
his fellow bowlers.

We should probably skip over

what Glen loved
to touch the most.

But the point is,
what kind of a man was he?

What did he care about?

What worthwhile causes
did he champion?

Huh.

Nothing really comes to mind.

Nothing respectable, anyway.

It has been an uphill battle.

As you know, he had a few
passionate interests,

most of them
quite unmentionable,

in polite company at least.

He gave little to charity,

found most people
basically insufferable,

and vice versa.

I thought, perhaps,
his alma mater,

but how do you honor his legacy
of catcalling coeds

and dropping out
his third semester?

I don't know.
Maybe I'll just endow
a Chair at Harvard,

the School of Public Health
or something.

Not what Glen would've chosen,
but who knows?

Perhaps if he'd exhausted

all other uses
for his time and money,

he might've done
something good for humanity.

You never know.

And Paula, I'd like
to make you a part of it.

How about Honorary Member
of the selection committee?

I love any excuse
to throw a party!

You think those Harvard snobs

could handle a nice big bowl
of cheeseburger chowder?

Raymond,

you are so sweet to visit me,

but you better shake a leg.

It's not safe for you to be
in one place for too long.

So you have been
reading the paper.

Well, you just looked
so cute in that picture,

I wanted to cut it out
and put it in my scrapbook.

My dear, it's been a pleasure.

The greatest pleasure.

Paula.

Dembe?

Oh, is this a new gal pal
of yours?

She's a cutie pie.

We need to find Raymond, Paula.

Oh...

I'll check upstairs.

Well, here, take a load off.

I'd offer you some Scotcheroos,

but someone ate the last one.

I'm guessing that someone
was Mr. Reddington?

We want to keep you
out of trouble, Paula,

but you need to talk to us.

Okay, fine.

He came knockin' on my door,
and I took him straight to bed.

Oh, take your minds
out of the gutter, you two.

He didn't get
any sleep last night,

so I let him catch a few winks
in Jelly's old room.

Now, what's wrong with that?

Nothing, apart from aiding
and abetting a fugitive.

He told me
what to do about that.

He said that
if some pushy FBI agents

were to come around here,

I should tell them everything.

-Everything?
-That's what he said.

Every little detail,

so you can't charge me
with anything.

The first thing I noticed,

something was clearly
weighing on his mind.

And, uh, and then,
he wouldn't get off the phone.

Who was he calling?

I don't know.

If you expect
to get out of this
by trading information,

you actually have to give us
some information.

Well, if you're gonna
beat it outta me.

It-- It was a woman.

I'm not the jealous type,
so I didn't eavesdrop, um,

but her name was...

Andrea something or other.

I'm just about to get the key
out of the lock box.

Then we're
right on schedule.

No way!
You're a contractor.

Um, we may have
a slight problem.

It needs a little work,
but the bones are good.

Now lemme show you that AC unit
you were asking about.

There's people here.
They're taking a tour.

Well, you just gotta
get them to leave.

Andrea, come on,
you've got this.

You go, girl.

Okay...

Her name is Andrea Athens.
Raymond introduced us.

She's the one
who found him a space

to serve as
a duplicate Post Office.

Wait, what duplicate--

It's a long story
with a super boring ending.

Based on a hunch,

we thought it might be wise
to track Andrea down.

But we couldn't
get ahold of her.

She wouldn't answer her phone.

We tried calling her office,
but, apparently,

she dropped everything

to attend to a VIP
client's emergency.

That sounds like Raymond.

Wait a minute.
What are you two getting at?

You think Reddington
hired this woman to, what?

Buy him a safe house?

That's unclear,
but before Andrea
left the office,

she asked for her assistant
for the lockbox code

at 1120 Westover Drive.

That's outside
the containment zone.

Does that mean Reddington
got through the barricades?

If he has,
he may already be on site.

We're heading there now.

-Get SWAT on the line...
-Alert Metro PD...

Uh, we'll scramble units
to meet you at the house.

You love the house, right?

Who cares about the mold?

-What mold?
-Exactly!

That's what I say.

-What mold.
-No, what mold?

You didn't tell us
there was mold.

There's no mold
in the disclosure.

And if they didn't disclose it,
then where's the mold?

There is no mold!
- Where is the mold?

Is it the toxic kind--

It isn't any kind
because it doesn't exist.

I agree, mind over matter.

In this market,

you gotta be willing
to overlook

some of the little things.

A little mold, who cares?

Is it that black mold?

Black, green, brown,
whatever! Whatever!

Okay, we're outta here.

Mike, let's go.

Thanks a lot.

-I'm gonna remember this.
-Oh.

Buh-bye, now!

Happy hunting!

Donald told me
you were a menace
behind the wheel.

Come on, Grandma,
we're trying to catch
a fugitive.

Are you sure
you're ready for this?

To get out of the car?

Definitely.

No, I mean...

Well, I know we all agreed
to take Reddington down,

but now that it actually
might happen,

are you gonna feel okay
putting him in cuffs?

I'm not really sure.

I guess we'll have to find out
when it happens.

What's your ETA?

Uh, we're just down the street.

Backup's five minutes out.
Hold your position.

You are a menace.

Uh, look...

If Reddington's inside,

we don't move until
we have the house surrounded.

Um, we're pretty sure
he's not in the house.

How do you know that?

Because it's on fire, sir.

I don't get it. Why would he
go to all the trouble

of securing a safe house
just to burn it down?

Clear the way!
We've got a house
going up in smoke!

All right, let 'em through!
Let 'em through!

What are we missing here?

Well, I dunno, I mean,
maybe this is the wrong house?

It could just be
a bizarre coincidence.

No, wait, listen.

Raymond's using the fire.
That's how he's getting out.

You need to alert
all checkpoints.

Stop any fire truck
from getting through
the barricade.

Reddington's likely headed
south, southeast.

Know what he's driving.

Agent Nixon,
would you care to...

Notify ground units,
contact MPD.

Agent Ressler,
coordinate with Tactical.

I want eyes in the sky.

Let's find that truck!

Clean it and leave it.
We're gone in five.

Catch you
on the flip side, Chuck.

It's time
for an update.

Where are we?

Uh, same place that we were
nine hours ago.

We shifted
the containment zone south.

The units are going
door-to-door.

Still no sign of Raymond
or the truck.

Or Andrea Athens.

She's in the wind.

I don't even care about
divided loyalties anymore,

I just wanna find him
so I can take a nap

and oh, God, a shower.

You gotta admit, though,

that stunt with the firetruck
was pretty metal.

Oh, please,
we're all thinking it.

Here's what
I've been thinking.

I spent my rookie years
chasing him,

my next decade
working alongside of him,

only now putting him away's
gonna end my career.

What do you mean "end"?
Y-You're not retiring.

No, but... I mean, come on.

Even if we catch Reddington,

you really think Hudson's
letting any of us
walk away from this?

We got it! We got the truck.

Where's Agent Nixon?

Oh, he's on the phone
updating... someone.

Get him in here.
He needs to hear this.

Firetruck was abandoned...
here.

In a warehouse
outside Capitol Heights.

Finally, something we can use.

Let's scramble a team.

Start canvassing for witnesses.

Pull every traffic cam
in a 20-block radius.

Knock, knock, knock.

-Good news.
-Come in. Shut the door.

We found the firetruck.

-Was Reddington--
-Nah, he cleared out.

But we're checking the cameras
in the area.

Should ID his getaway vehicle
any minute now.

Great, so that just puts us,

oh, right, nine hours behind.

That's nine hours
for Reddington

to ditch whatever getaway car
you're talking about and go...

pretty much anywhere
in the country.

Or the world, for that matter.

Hey, look, I'm just here
to help you catch your guy.

If you don't like the way
I'm doing things--

It's not you. It's them.

What do think
they're doing out there?

We should've taken Reddington
at that airfield two days ago.

But he disappears
just as we arrived.

Then we lock down
an entire district,

and he slips past us
at the barricade.

How many times do we have
to fail before we admit

there's a reason
he's always one step ahead?

He's good at what he does.

He's been doing it for decades.

Yeah, but this time
it's different, right?

'Cause now we've got his team
helping us...

Unless it's not us
they're helping.

They're the Reddington
Task Force.

It's in their goddamn name.

If you're right,

we're gonna nail them
to the wall.

Where's Nixon going?

Who knows?

Why don't we go ahead
and review what we've got?

Unfortunately,
we couldn't recover

any of the security footage
of Reddington

or his crew
exiting the warehouse.

Our field photographer
took these.

What about this?

It's a red-light camera.
It only activates when
you go through the light.

So I guess there's some laws
that Reddington does obey.

But there are
other CCTV cameras

in the surrounding
neighborhood.

We're isolating every car
that passed by

in the hours after the fire.

We're up to 30 vehicles
and counting.

Reddington could be
in any one of them.

I'll talk to Agent Nixon,

see if he can get some help
running facial recognition
and tracking.

After ten hours,
we're gonna have to

comb through a lot of footage

to trace the trajectory
of his car.

He breached the barricade here.

He abandoned his truck here.

He's heading east.

A lifetime ago at a party
on the Hicacos Peninsula,

Raymond exchanged
some sweet nothings

with the wife of our host.

He was made to understand

that his life
would be worth nothing,

or his death
would be worth too much,

if he spent another night
in Varadero.

So we stole
our host's speedboat
and set out for Havana.

That's when he told me,

"In times of trouble
you go one of two ways,

up in the sky or out to sea."

Now we know he didn't go up,
not without his jet.

But what about out?

Congratulations.

You're not the only one
who's paranoid anymore.

It's not paranoia if it's real.

This real enough for you?

I pulled phone records
for all outgoing calls
made from this building,

the day we lost Reddington
on the tarmac.

Mm-hmm?

Minutes after we learned
the location of the jet,

there was a ten-second call
to a burner phone

that pinged to a tower
on highway 50,

right down the road
from the airfield.

-Reddington's burner phone.
-You were right.

Someone did call to warn him.

Who was it?

Operating off
of Dembe's theory,

we ran down any ships
with ties to Morgana.

We figured that Reddington
would want to push off

somewhere nearby
with minimal security.

Bluefish Pier is the closest,

but it's popular with tourists

which means a lot of eyeballs
with nothing better to do

than call the FBI tip line.

Can't ya just see
Red photobombing a selfie?

It's like, "Did you catch
a fish on vacation?"

"No, no. I caught a fugitive."

Anyway, the-- the second one,
Finley's Landing,

it's just a bunch of rich boys
and their toys--

yachts, sailboats,
that kind of thing.

Wait... Tillman's Wharf.

What?

Raymond used to have
an interest

in some commercial
fishing boats docked there.

He shielded most
of his investments

behind various shell companies,

but he enjoyed the perks of
supplying the freshest seafood

to restaurants and markets
around the city.

You're thinking that fleet
had a secondary purpose?

Why risk a traffic stop on land
when you can jump on a boat

and be in open water
within a few hours?

It's a good hunch.

Let's gear up
and head down to the--

Everyone,
stop what you're doing.

That's him.

What is this?
What are you doing?

Take him to interrogation.

Hang on, now you're
dragging your own people
away for questioning?

What kind of an outfit
are you running around here?

I wouldn't worry about it,
Mr. Cooper.

As you said, Agent Ishwood
doesn't report to you.

Whatever he's being
questioned about,

it should be conducted
by either you or me.

And right now, we don't have
the time to waste.

Agent Zuma has a credible lead.

We need to get
to Tillman's Wharf now.

All right, Zuma,
you come with me.

You can explain on the way.

The rest of you stay put.

And Mr. Cooper,
if you'd like to sit in

on the conversation
between Agent Ishwood
and Congressman Hudson,

please, feel free.

Your wife completed
a law degree two years ago?

Yes, sir.

You have a mortgage
and two kids in private school.

How'd you pay tuition?

We borrowed from her brother.

Marcus.

Marcus Kennedy.

Something wrong, Agent Ishwood?

No, sir. I just-- I--

I'll tell you what's wrong is

the three of us
wasting time in this room

while the most wanted man
in the world

gets further away
by the minute.

Agent Ishwood is a ten-year
veteran of the Bureau

with a sterling record.

So if you're building
to a point, Mr. Hudson,

I suggest you make it now.

Fourteen minutes before
our response teams arrived

at the airfield where
we tracked Reddington's jet,

a call was made from your phone

to a burner at the airfield.

So I'd say we're here

to figure out why Agent Ishwood

decided to betray his country.

That number corresponds
to the cell phone

taken from you earlier today,
does it not?

Yes, sir,
but I didn't make that call.

I don't believe you.

Tell me about your first year
with the Bureau.

- Mr.
- Cooper, please-- -You don't have to believe him.

We have surveillance devices
all over this facility.

If Agent Ishwood did make
that call, we'll see it.

And you won't.

Sir.

Lead the way.

Special Agent Zuma, FBI.

This is Special Agent Nixon.

We need the location
of these five vessels.

I'm afraid it's urgent.

Okay. Let me check the logs.

That's Agent Ishwood
at the exact moment
the call was made.

Doesn't appear to be
on his phone to me.

So either he gave the phone
to someone

or someone took it from him.

Do you mind?

First three on your list
set out last month.

And, uh, the Amy Jo's
been in dry dock

for the last two weeks.

What about The Great Shirley?

Yeah.

-Huh.
-What is it?

Great Shirley got in yesterday.

She was supposed to go to
dry dock for some engine work,

but looks like
they resupplied last night

and headed right back out.

Raymond left on a commercial
fishing boat late last night.

-Are you sure he was on it?
-Yes.

Call Coast Guard Base
Portsmouth.

We need them to use
every vessel

they have to track them
on radar.

Oh, my God!

Put the phone down
and put your hands
on your head.

- Now.
- Dembe?

I'm telling you,
he's on that boat.

Herbie, try and get Dembe
back on the line.

Hey, somebody get me
the Commander

of the Coast Guard's
fifth district, now.

Hold on a minute, Mr. Ressler.

I'm afraid we won't be taking
any more cues from Agent Zuma.

What are you talking about?
We need to find that boat.

No, we don't because
Raymond Reddington
is nowhere near that vessel.

- I understand your hesitation, Congressman...
- -Hesitation?

-Sir--
-...but if we have a lead,
we need to pursue it.

I don't know
what this is about,
but Agent Zuma just--

Dembe Zuma's under arrest.

On what charge?

Aiding and abetting a fugitive.

At 3:55 p.m.
just before our raid

on Reddington's jet
at the airfield,

a call was placed
from Agent Ishwood's phone

to a cell phone
in the vicinity.

We believe that phone belonged
to Raymond Reddington.

Only Agent Ishwood
didn't make that call,

Zuma did.

Here is Agent Ishwood
at the time of the call.

And here is Agent Zuma

90 seconds
after the call ended.

He was clever enough to avoid
taking the phone on camera...

But here he is putting it back.

Hope he washed his hands.

I'm telling you,
he's on that boat.

If we don't get him now,
we never will.

Nice truck.

Where's the boat?

We sunk it.

You smell like fish.

Crab, actually.

We'll roll down the windows.

I mean, he's definitely
slipping something

into Ishwood's pocket,

but maybe it's not a phone.
Maybe it's a...

a small, phone-shaped thing.

Herbie, just could you...

Sorry.

Look, I've grown quite fond
of Dembe, truly,

but should we really be
that surprised?

I mean, he spent decades
with Reddington.

It couldn't have been easy to
sever that kind of connection.

No one was
more suspect of Dembe

joining the FBI than me,

but he's proven himself
time and time again

to be a dedicated,
thorough, honest agent.

Who called his best friend to
keep him from a life in prison.

Are you sure you wouldn't have
done the same

if the roles were reversed?

I'm not.

I wouldn't even be here
if it weren't for Red.

I love him.

I mean, not as much
as he loves Holly, my wife,

which I guess I've always been
strangely comfortable with.

But the point is, everything
about chasing him feels wrong,

and I haven't known him
half as long as Dembe.

What I can't
figure out, though,

is that if Dembe
did warn Reddington,

why take us
to the real-estate agent?

Why lead us to the wharf?

He say anything
on the way over?

-Not a word.
-All right.

Excuse me. I need to speak
with Agent Zuma.

Given the circumstances,
I don't think
that would be appropriate.

I appreciate the counsel,
but Agent Zuma reports to me.

If you have a problem with me
speaking with one of my people,

you can take it up
with the Attorney General.

Stand aside.

Traffic is
slowed down on Route 264

with a tractor trailer
off on the shoulder.

In other news, police
have a suspect in custody

after a string of burglaries
targeting mobile homes

outside of Fairfield, and a...

At least I'm not on the news
down here.

Mm. The seaplane is fueled.

You'll need to leave as soon
as we arrive.

It'll be nice to get out
of the country.

Where are you off to next?

A meeting outside Bogota.

Will I see you?

When it's safe.

With any luck,
we'll be back on the mountain

by the start
of the rainy season.

We'll see.

Your people at the wharf.

Mary was questioned by the FBI.

What is it?

Dembe was taken away
in handcuffs.

It's not your fault, Raymond.

You didn't ask him
to interfere.

I know.

Coast Guard
just called off the search.

The boat's vanished.

Then he's gone.

Maybe. But not because of you.

I want you to know, Dembe,
you're gonna have

my full support in disputing
these accusations.

Whatever that tape suggests--

I won't be fighting
any charges.

I stole Agent Ishwood's phone,

and I warned Raymond
about the raid.

Why, Dembe?

If Congressman Hudson
and Agent Nixon

had cornered him
on the airfield,

Raymond would have
refused to surrender

and he and any number of agents
would have been killed.

You were trying to save lives.

And you spent the last 48 hours

trying to find Reddington
and bring him in safely.

If we explain that
to the Attorney General--

It won't matter.

Raymond is gone.

And someone on this Task Force
will be held accountable.

It should be me.

That's absurd.

Every member of this team
bears responsibility

for what we've done here.

If you think I'm gonna
let you take all of that
on your shoulders--

We are not the same, Harold.

You operated
in a legal gray area.

I spent over two decades
at the right hand

of the world's
greatest criminal.

You're not that man anymore.

No, I'm not.

And I'm grateful for my time
on the Task Force, but...

Mr. Cooper, please step away
from the table.

- What's going on here?
- Put it on.

I did
what you suggested.

The Attorney General agrees
that Agent Zuma should be

transferred to FBI headquarters
for further questioning.

I don't trust you.

I don't trust him.

And I certainly
don't trust this place.

You won't be pulling rank
to speak to our suspect again.

Let's go.

Where do you think
you're going, Agent Ressler?

Oh, with you.

I intend to be present
for Agent Zuma's questioning.

If you don't like it, well,

you can slap some cuffs
on me, as well.

No, no,
I won't make the vote.

Tell the whip
I'll explain when I can.

Believe me,
this is more important.

You know, I almost
have to hand it to him.

Getting his man
inside the FBI...

It's ballsy.

Whatever you may think,
Congressman,

I didn't join the Task Force
for Raymond.

Whatever you say.

Dembe. I got you.

I got you. Okay. Keys.

-You okay?
-My leg's pinned.

All right. You stay here.

You all right?

We'll get you patched up.

But we've gotta keep moving.

Let's load up.

Raymond...

I'm not going with you.

They'll put you in a cell
for years.

It's my choice.

Don't...

Don't move.

Congressman, please,
lower your weapon.

It's not what you think.

Put the gun down, Chuck.

Everyone, calm down.

Put the gun down, Chuck!

Shooting a man
is rather different

than convicting him
of a capital offense,
Congressman.

Congressman Hudson,
please.

Stay away from me.

No is going to hurt you.
Please, lower your weapon.

I don't trust you.
You're his guy.

No, I'm not.

I don't trust any of you.

I'm on your side here.
I'm not going anywhere.

But I'm asking you, please,
lower your weapon.

Stay back! Stay back!

What the hell?

- Red...
- In the van.

In the van.

Miss, Miss,
the doctor on duty--

We need someone here, now!

Oh, my God.

-No police.
-I wasn't.

I was just gonna
call an ambulance.

There's no time.
He won't survive the wait.

-You need a hospital.
This is a nursing home.
-You. Are you a nurse?

-Y-Yes.
-Can we have
that chair, please?

This man needs your help.

He's losing too much blood.

He needs a transfusion
immediately.

-He's been shot?
-You have a medical
unit on site?

Yes. But it's not
an emergency room.

-We don't have a large supply
of blood on standby.
-Stay here. Keep an eye.

We won't need it.
I'll supply the blood directly.

A direct transfusion?
That's highly unusual.

It may not even be possible

if your blood types
aren't compatible.

-We are compatible.
-There are protocols.

If you supply him directly,

whatever blood he gets
is blood you lose.

I don't know anything
about your history.

It could have a serious impact
on your health as well.

Hook us up. Now.

Okay. Cooper's here.

He's coordinating the search
for Dembe and Reddington.

-Are you all right?
-Yeah. I'm okay.

Dembe was shot... bad.

He was hit in the neck.

Hudson got ahold
of Nixon's gun and panicked.

Hudson's dead.

Reddington dropped him
right where he stood.

-Where's Dembe now?
-Reddington took him.

Chuck was here.

They threw him in a van
and took off.

The closest hospitals
aren't that close.

We'll check them.

Uh, what about one of those
"medical cubes"

Reddington has at the ready?

-He could've called for one.
-No. Even those take time
to stand up.

The equipment,
the doctors have to travel.

Dembe wouldn't make it.
He was bleeding badly.

We'll find him.

Donald, listen to me.

We'll find him.

All right,
let's get you checked out.

My guess?
Multiple rib fractures.

But we'll take you in,
we'll get you checked out.

No. I'm staying here.

You knew, didn't you?

You knew Reddington
wouldn't abandon Zuma.

You let us roll
right into an ambush.

Are you kidding me?

What do you think,
we planned this?

Reddington got his intel
from somewhere.

-Zuma's gone.
-You were knocked out.

You didn't even see
what went down.

Hey, that's enough.
Believe me,

nobody on the Task Force
wanted this to happen.

Reddington did this on his own.

You expect me to believe you?

Arthur Hudson is dead.

Agent Nixon, I am doing
everything in my power

to keep
from losing my composure.

I suggest you do the same.

Look at that.

Three in the body armor.

Reddington's a crack shot,

and, what, you just
got lucky, right?

Oh, you can't help yourself,
can you?

Our focus should be
on finding Reddington and Zuma,

not pointing fingers
at each other.

I'm onto you guys.

And I'm coming for all of you.

And if you think
Hudson was relentless, man,

you ain't seen nothing yet.

Hey, pal, my partner
just got shot in his neck.

Yeah. I guess Reddington
didn't factor in

Hudson having the stones
to grab my gun
and try to stop him.

What? Stones?
He got himself killed.

Agent Zuma got shot
because your boy Hudson

had no idea what he was doing.

I mean, what the hell
was he thinking

pulling a weapon
on someone like Reddington?

So he should've
just let Zuma escape?

Jordan, man,
you're wrong on this.

No, Agent Zuma
refused to escape.

He never intended
to go with Reddington.

I don't believe that.

And you're lucky
I wasn't there.

You weren't.
But I was.

And it's true, Jordan.

Zuma wasn't going to leave
with Reddington.

He told him
he wasn't going anywhere.

And you don't think that
was part of the performance?

Performance?
You're not hearing me.

Zuma was unarmed.

When Hudson drew on him,

Zuma was the one

trying to calm things down.

He stepped in front of the gun.
I saw it happen.

Zuma did everything he could
to diffuse the situation.

Agent Malik?

- I think we found him.
- How?

We reached out to DC Memorial.

One of their surgeons
was medevac-ed

to a trauma in the field about
an hour ago. Gunshot wound.

Where "in the field?"

Uh, it's a nursing home
called the Grandview.

Just under five miles
from the crash site.

Send me the address.
We're on our way.

Ressler, we have a lead
on Agent Zuma's location.

-Is he alive?
-I don't know.

But it's possible
he's at a nursing home
a few miles away.

Wait, if you are still working
with Reddington,

your lead could take us
exactly in the wrong direction.

Does that mean
you're not coming?

Officer.

Assistant Director Cooper, FBI.

What's going on here?

Apparently,
some guys with weapons

brought in an unknown subject
with a gunshot wound.

-Where is he now?
-Medical clinic,
end of the hall.

If Reddington is in there,
follow my lead.

Out.

I said get out now!

He's lucky to be alive.

His airway's intact.

The bullet missed his carotid
and his spinal column,

but it nicked his jugular.

He should stay here
until he stabilizes.

The man who brought him in.
You saw him?

Briefly.
He left shortly after I arrived.

Dr.
Halloran, we believe that man was Raymond Reddington.

I don't know who that is.

Regardless, maybe he said
something before he left?

Something to indicate
where he was going?

No. But wherever he is,
I hope he's resting.

Why is that?

Because based on what I saw,
he's not well.

You have to understand that,

as the recipient,
Agent Zuma was saved
by that transfusion.

But not everyone is a candidate

to be the donor
in a direct transfer.

Was he exhibiting any symptoms?

No question. He was weak.
He had shortness of breath.

My sense was he wasn't
oxygenating well.

I urged him to go to
an emergency room when he left.

Then maybe he did.

I don't think so.

"That, my dear,
will have to wait.

I need to be traveling."

Traveling?

That's what he said.

Sorry, fellas.
That's all I got.

Okay.

That was Ressler.
They're on their way back.

Dembe's gonna stay put
until he shows more progress.

He's still not conscious?

Reddington told the surgeon
he'd be traveling.

Ah, well, that's what my wife,
Holly, would call
unhelpful information.

We could start
with the airports and airstrips

within maybe 50 miles or so,

see how many
private flights left

after Reddington was last seen.

Okay.

-I already spoke to Rutherford.
-Then go over her head.

She's the Deputy Director
of National Intelligence.

If anyone knows, she knows.

At this point,
none of the federal agencies

have any solid intel
on Reddington's location.

-How is that possible?
-It's Reddington.

Half the world's been looking
for the man since the mid-'90s.

Yeah, well, you mark my words.
His time's running out.

I just heard a doctor
say he was compromised.

-What does that mean?
-It means you watch.

Reddington's gonna
make a mistake.

And when he does,
someone will find him.

And I'm telling you now,
if it's me?

I won't be needing these.

Because I will
put the man down...

just like he did
to Arthur Hudson.

So... that happened.

He knew we were standing here.

He saw us.

That's what this is.

That's what we're doing.

-Herbie.
-You heard him.

A federal agent,
a sworn officer of the FBI,

brazen enough to openly say

he intends
to murder his target.

Well, his friend was killed.

H-He was upset.

Meaning what?

You don't think he'll do it?

'Cause he will.

No, he won't.

Because we're gonna
find Reddington first.

Sorry. I can't.

Finding Dembe,
that was different.

But hunting Red? Helping them?

We're not helping them.

We're helping
Ressler and Cooper
avoid prosecution.

I like it here.

It's been fun,
being part of the team...

but I never signed on for this.

I love Reddington.

And Holly and Sue adore him.

If I helped the FBI
capture Raymond...

or worse?

They would never forgive me.

I would never forgive me.

I understand.

I-I'm also ready
for this to be over.

I'll let Cooper
and Ressler know.

Are you sure
you're on the right side?

He's not wrong to ask.

This is hard for all of us.

I still
can't believe it happened.

I mean, Hudson was
a pain in the ass.

But ultimately, he was
one of the good guys.

I may not have liked him,
but he wasn't wrong.

God knows we crossed the line

more times than I care to admit
or remember.

We need to find Reddington.

I did some research.

Turns out, there were around
two dozen private planes

that left DC
in the first few hours

after Reddington was last seen.

I was able to narrow them down,

because not all of them

were capable
of international travel.

But even those will take
some time to check out.

One went to Montreal.

The others to Mexico City,
Caracas, Marseille,

Tokyo, Kingston--

Let me guess.

All the manifests you've
reviewed so far are clean.

They are.

I don't think
we're gonna find Reddington

on any of those.

He was the best in the world
at moving around

without raising suspicion.

What if we start
at the bathhouse?

He won't be there.

No, but his things are there.

Maybe he went back
for something,

or left something behind that
might tell us where he's going.

That makes sense.

What about Nixon?
Are we bringing him
into the loop?

I wouldn't do that.

I think we have to.

He already doesn't trust us.

At this point, I don't see
any reason to hide anything.

Well, then it's a good thing
I'm still here,

because I can give you
a damn good reason.

Nixon.

Hey.

We may never find Reddington,

but we need to talk about
what happens if we do.

And why's that?

Because I hear you've been
running your mouth
about putting him down

instead of bringing him in.

Running my mouth?

I don't care if you are
an Assistant Director.

You need to change your tone
if you expect me to hear you.

I expect you to act
like a professional.

Oh, that's good,

coming from the man
who facilitated
Reddington's treason.

I stand by my actions.

And I stand behind anything
this Task Force has ever done.

If someone well above
your pay grade

wants to hold me accountable
for anything we've done,

they know where to find me.

But that goes for you, too.

If you execute Reddington,

if there's even a whiff
of excessive force involved,

I will make sure
you are held accountable.

Are we clear?

That man killed a congressman.

An honorable man.
A public servant.

And you're concerned about him?

This isn't about him.
This is about me and you.

When this is finished,
Reddington will be judged
for his crimes.

And so will I.

But so will you.

Time's up, old man.

The days of you
protecting Reddington,

the days of your "Task Force"
embarrassing this Bureau--

-Take a step back.
-Why?

I thought this was
about me and you.

I won't tell you again.

You won't tell me anything.

Whoa, easy, easy,
easy, easy, easy.

Break it up.
Neutral corners, fellas.

You all right?

Good talk, Grandpa.

You gave me a hard time
for hitting Hudson,

now you're getting physical?

We'll call you from New York.

I didn't expect him to be here,

but part of me thought maybe,

if he's not well...

It feels a bit eerie.

Reddington filled this place,
you know?

This place and our lives
for a long time now.

The man's worn many hats.
Friend.

Confidant. Nemesis.

He's a grandparent to Agnes.

And an international fugitive.

With books on
advanced econometrics,

astrophysics, Micronesian art,

and Digital Literacy
for Beginners.

It's Agent Ressler.

How's Dembe?

Harold.

My friend. It is so good
to hear your voice again.

Dembe, thank God
you're all right.

How you feeling?

Mm. Tired.

Raymond?

We're in New York.
At the bathhouse.

He knows.
We talked about everything.

Hudson, Nixon,
what happened with Reddington.

We have to find him.

We're trying.
But there's no sign
of him here.

It's been a minute
since I was here,

but everything looks
just as it was.

That's what he does.

He'll walk away from everything

with nothing
but what's left in his pockets.

FBI! Federal agents!

Everyone stay where you are!

You've got to be kidding.

Agent Ressler,
I'll call you back.

Clear, sir.

Reddington's not here.

Director Cooper.

Tell me again about how
we're all on the same side.

What is this?

You want to catch
Reddington, right?

That's why you failed to
disclose you knew exactly
where he was living.

How did you find this place?
You followed us here?

Damn right.

You want to tell me
what you were doing here?

Looking for evidence.
And if we'd have found any,

we'd have shared it
with the Bureau.

Let me guess. You didn't.

Find any.

No. There's nothing
useful here.

We won't be taking
your word for it.

Fine. Have at it.

Agent Malik and I
were just leaving.

Good morning, Angela.

It's not morning anymore.

You slept for a very long time.

-I did?
-Mm-hmm.

The soup was delicious.

-Thank you.
-You're welcome.

How are you feeling?

These are quite something.

Azahar.

Yes, orange blossoms.

So beautiful here
this time of year.

You know, they say
the golden apples
of immortality,

the ones Hercules
went looking for,

they weren't apples at all.

They were bitter oranges.

You should go back to bed.

Ah.

Actually, I was thinking
about taking a walk.

See how I do.

When you're feeling up to it,

you should try going
over the hill in the back.

I grew up over there.

It's very beautiful.

Por favor.

Si, si.

Ah-da-da-da-da.

Gracias.

Ahh.

Si.

I'd love to buy one.

Yes.
I speak some English.

Gracias.

I'd love to buy one,

but I walked a long way,
so I can't carry it home.

This's not a problem.
We can, uh...

uh, how do you say it?

Um, bring them later?

-Deliver. Si.
-Yeah. Deliver.

Deliver. Excellent.

Uh, in that case...

I'm sure
Nixon is realizing as we speak,

the bathhouse was a bust.

So we're back to square one.

I can just imagine him
walking around,

checking out
all of Red's eccentricities.

Perhaps we should find Edward.

One of
the wealthiest men in the world

and sleeping on
what's basically a cot
in a locker room.

That's usually my first call
when I need to find him.

No television, no Wi-Fi,

just a few books,
a hot plate, some clothes,

and a huge burlap sack
with the--

Oh, my God.

Yeah, well, Edward might be
a little less helpful

now that Reddington
blew up his plane.

It wasn't there.
The sack with the horns.

It wasn't at the bathhouse.

-You said nothing was missing.
-I was wrong.

A sack
with the skull of Islero,

a Miura bull

that gored the famous matador,

the one that was killed, uh--

-Manolete.
-Yes. Manolete.

Raymond's always been
very interested in him.

He told me all about him.

A man who found it easier
to risk his life

than live his life
without risk.

Reddington went to Mexico.

He said a noble beast like that
doesn't belong on the wall

above the bar
of a dingy Mexican cantina.

What are you thinking?

That he did go back to the
bathhouse. To get the skull.

-To bring it home.
-That's what he wanted.

You could see,
it was important to him.

So that would mean
he went to Spain?

To Seville. Uh, Andalusia.

I think the ranch is there,

where Islero was raised.

My God. Marseille.

One of the flights we looked at
was from DC to Marseille.

From there, it's what, maybe
a two-hour trip to Seville?

Raymond knows that area well.

There's a villa in a town near
Carmona, northeast of the city.

- He's stayed there many times.
- I like it.

Strange as it is,

it feels like
something he would do.

Pinky!

Ah!

And here I thought I was just
gonna be leaving you a message.

What are you doing at home,
sweetheart?

Ugh, working on this
science fair project. Alone.

Wasn't that supposed to be
a group project?

Supposed to be.

But Becky has relatives
visiting town and Andy, well...

I don't know, he, um...

Anyway, so I'm
finishing it up myself.

Sometimes the greatest flights
in history, my dear,

have been solo.

What does that mean?

It means
"keep up the good work."

I don't...

Pinky,

I heard Pops on the phone.

Is he... looking for you?

Are you okay?

I am.

It's nothing for you
to worry about.

So Becky has relatives in town

and Andy, what,
he's too busy to help?

Andy has been...
acting really weird.

He told Caitlin in third period

that he kind of "liked me,"

but then we got assigned
this project together

and now he won't talk to me
or help me with it.

I'm not surprised.

Why is he acting so goofy?

I'd imagine he's nervous.

We often stumble
when we're closest

to the object
of our endearment.

It's just one of those little
twists of fate and affection.

Agnes, sometimes boys
can be so slow,

and so dumb.

Give him time.

He's just trying to
come to terms
with his feelings for you.

Just keep crushing,

but keep cool,

and soon enough,

he'll figure out
how to crush back.

Pinky, you're being such a mom.

Yeah.

I guess I just can't help it.

I thought I knew what pain was.

And then I flew eight hours to
Spain with two fractured ribs.

And you can't take painkillers.

No. I'll pass.
I just got my one-year chip.

I don't think I want
to re-set that clock.

Villa Lobo.
This must be the place.

You're there. Already?

Yeah. I went to see
Commissioner Alvarez

with the National Police
in Seville when I landed.

I spoke to him.

Sounds like he'd be thrilled
to let the world know

his department had a hand
in catching Reddington.

Yeah. No question.
They gave me a car,

said that whatever else I need
is just a phone call away.

This place is beautiful.
No wonder Reddington likes it.

Mm. It's owned by one
of Raymond's oldest friends.

Bernardo Lobo.

We met many years ago on a tour

in a winery in the fields
north of Bangkok.

I didn't know
there were wineries
in Thailand.

You're not alone.

The two of them
were the only ones

who showed up for the tour.

Ressler. Hang on.
We're getting another call.

No. Take it.

Maybe it's a lead
on Reddington.

Call us after
you've checked out the villa.

Harold Cooper.

Harold! Sorry to intrude.

I called the front desk
to speak with Dembe,

and they told me
you were in for a visit.

Raymond?

Ah! There you are.

Do me a favor, old friend.

Next time you get shot,
make it an arm or a leg.

The neck is just
such nasty business.

Reddington. Where are you?
What are you doing?

At the moment,
I'm making myself
a little something to eat.

But enough about me.
I wanted to check in,

Dembe, hear how you're doing?

I'm alive.

Which I'm told
is thanks to you.

Yes, well, it's the chicken
or the egg situation, really.

Who saves whom and then
gets saved themselves.

It's been so many times
over so many years,

I can't keep track.

Sorry.
I don't speak much Spanish.

Ah. You speak English.

-Yes.
-You are an American?

From the United States.
My name is Donald Ressler.

I'm a Special Agent
for the FBI.

Is something wrong?

Yes, we're looking for someone.

His name is Raymond Reddington.

We received a tip
that he might be here.

Here?

This is the Villa Lobo.

Yes. Maybe you know him
by a different name.

Have you seen that man?

Senor Lobo is away on business

and there are no guests
currently here in the house.

Well, maybe I could
confirm that for myself.

Do you mind if I come in,
look around?

Raymond,
the doctor here.

She said you didn't
look too well.

Oh, no.
You're not turning the tables.

This was my call

to check up on you.

I'm worried.
This feels different.

A congressman is dead.

And I'm afraid.

I'm afraid this time
they won't be
satisfied until...

you are, too.

I'm fine, Dembe.

I'll call again,
when I have more time.

Oh! I thought of something,
a funny story that--

Oh, God. I have-- I have to go.

I'll, uh--

Remind me next time.

Ugh.

That's another suite
for when we have guests.

That door, what's behind it?

It's a kitchen.

Senor.

Senor, I told you,
there's nobody in the house.

Thank you.

It must have been a mistake,
but, um, here's my card

in case you see or hear
from Mr. Reddington.

Hopefully you'll call me.

I'll tell Senor Lobo
you were here

and give him this
when he returns.

Thank you.

No luck here.

That was Reddington
on the other line.

Can you imagine?
Cool as a cucumber.

-You got to be kidding me.
-Checking on Dembe.

As if no one even cared
where he was.

Well, I'll tell you
where he's not.

The Villa Lobo.

A woman on the staff
let me search the house.

Reddington's not here.

It was always just a theory.

Maybe he's not in Seville.

Or maybe he is
and he's already gone.

What about the market?

As long as I've known him,

anytime he goes somewhere
for more than a few days

he visits
the local fresh market.

You know,
that's not a bad idea.

If he is in Seville, someone
there would've seen him.

It's worth a try.
But it's getting late here.

Uh, I got to get back
to the city,

find a hotel for the night.

We'll try those markets
in the morning.

How long ago?

A few minutes, maybe ten.

Who is he?

An American policeman.

With the FBI. Yes.

Humorless fellow
with handsome hair.

Fair play, Donald.

I wonder what you'd
actually do with yourself

if one day you finally
got your man?

What does it mean?

Are you leaving?

Angela, how far is it to
the Miura bull ranch from here?

It's about an hour's drive.

North and east.

Why?

What's at the Miura Ranch?

It's not what's
at the Miura Ranch.

It's what isn't.

But should be.

Harold?

I'm sorry for the late visit.

It's been a long and crazy day.

It's okay. Come in.

I'm sure if you're here
it's because you have news.

I just spent the last few hours

in a classified meeting
at Main Justice.

The Attorney General's decided
not to file charges against you

for warning Reddington
about the raid at the airfield.

But?

But you've been
relieved of duty.

You're no longer
an active agent
with the Bureau.

I'm sorry, I tried.

It's okay, Harold.

Really, it is.

No. It's not.

I'm telling you it is.

Sitting here...

all I've had is time to think.

And I think...

it's time for me to...

get out from in front of
or behind guns.

It's early.

Men will be coming.

They always come.

And before they come,
I always go.

Where?

For a walk out back.
Over the hill.

Take some water.

Gracias.

De nada.

It's hard to believe
this is how it ends.

I mean, I always knew
the Task Force would end
one day,

that my career
would end one day...

but all of this?

After I was shot,
lying there on the street...

I thought I was dying.

And in that moment, I was okay
with that being the end.

With all the things
going through my mind...

I also thought of Raymond.

More than anyone
I've ever known,

he's always been
at peace with death.

He says death is inevitable.

It will come for us all.

And that inevitability
robs death entirely
of its significance.

What matters are the things
that are not inevitable.

The things we create.
The things we find.

The left we take
when everything in our life

is leading us right.

How we live.

I've always loved him for that.

For his remarkable refusal

to "go quietly
into that good night."

The poem...
by Dylan Thomas.

Rage, rage
Against the dying of the light

Yes.

Imagine.

Raymond, a man surrounded
by death in so many ways,

so passionately committed
to embracing life.

He could have surrendered
a thousand times over

and Some End.

But instead,
he chooses to rage.

To rage against the dying
of the light.

To rage against the bad guys
that would do us all harm.

Rage to protect
those people he loves.

To find moments
of peace and joy...

and fun...

...even though he knows
the light is still dying.

To live a most passionate life,

knowing it will still lead
to the same inevitable end...

is perhaps the most deeply
moving choice one can make.

It is the lesson
at the very core
of my time with him.

You never imagined
this is how it would end.

But our time with him,
our time together,

was never about how it ended.

It was about the adventure,
about life,

about Raymond
constantly reminding us,

showing us, imploring us...

to rage.

To rage.

Excuse me. I was wondering
if you could help me.

I'm looking for this man.

No? Thank you.

Excuse me.
Um, have you seen this man?

You don't speak English.
Uh, this-- this man here?

Thank you.

Excuse me. This man. English?

He speaks English. This man.

Um, policia?

Uh, yes, yes. F-From America.

Los Estados Unidos.

Ah, America.

No. No, lo siento.

Thank you.

Excuse me.

Si, si, si, si.

You know him?

Si.

That's great.
Thank you. Thank you.

Uh, where? Wh-Where was he?

I don't understand.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

-I don't understand--
-Sorry.

My father doesn't
speak much English.

Um, he-- he said
he saw this man here.

Um, yes. Yes, the--
the day before yesterday.

Okay. This man's name
is Raymond Reddington.

He's a fugitive. A criminal.
The police are looking for him.

He's a criminal?

He bought two watermelons.

And we bring them
to where he was staying
at the Villa Lobo.

The Villa Lobo?

No. I was there yesterday.

I spoke with a woman.
He wasn't there.

Oh, you mean the main house?

But, no, we didn't bring them
to the main house.

-You didn't?
-No.

The man you're looking for
is staying in the small house.

The one that is for the staff,

on the property
behind the house.

Graci-- Gracias.

Where is he?

Reddington?

Out walking.

Walking? Where?
Where did he go?

Out!

How long ago?

This is Agent Ressler
with the FBI.

Put me in touch with
Inspector Alvarez right away.

What's that?

Bring it down here.

Harold, I've got him.
I've got him.