Original subtitles

John: Slim, put

the gun down.

Ezekiel: You object to a traitor

being buried in his uniform?

Didn't say that.

Well, I most certainly do.

Regina: Maybe I could've

done something,

and then just a few hours later

he accidentally shoots himself?

Timmy: I'm sorry Madeline,

but it just doesn't

make any sense.

I bring you this nugget

of gold and all you do

is make jokes and engage

in wild speculation!

June: It's all so

horribly sad,

by how hard John's

taking this.

Susan: We need to find

a suitable replacement

for Major Kirkpatrick if

we're to continue our work.

But I'm afraid that can't happen

until Mr. Ashmeade arrives

from Langley and completes

his review of us.

It wasn't your fault.

[gunshots]

John: Slim didn't

shoot himself.

I killed him.

[bell ringing]

♪♪

♪♪

I am Professor Stanfield

Hargraves,

replacing the on-leave

Mrs. O’Neil

for the remainder of the year.

Professor, please.

I suffered too much

at the hands

of my doctoral dissertation

committee to forgo my title.

Oh, what a rogue and

peasant slave am I.

Who wrote those immortal

words, hmm?

In the glasses there.

William Shakespeare, sir.

William Shakespeare!

And who was William

Shakespeare, Glasses?

The man who wrote Hamlet?

Why are you asking that

as a question?

Because I don't know.

You don't know what?

Well, I guess I don't know much

about William Shakespeare, sir.

Aye, there's the rub,

no one does.

Strange, is it not?

The greatest writer

of all time...

and what do we know of him?

Well, we know he likely

didn't finish the sixth grade.

We know his daughter

was illiterate.

What does that mean, Glasses?

She couldn't write?

Is that a question?

She couldn't write.

This prolific poet

and playwright,

unparalleled master

of letters,

but his daughter made an x on

her marriage license

because she could not pen

her own name.

What does that sound like

to you, Glasses?

Kind of fishy.

And you're not a

fishmonger, are you?

Sir?

Yes, Glasses, I concur.

Kind of fishy indeed.

Something was rotten in

the state of England.

And that is what this

play is about.

This play was written

by someone

who knew all about the state,

and its secret world.

A man spied upon

by his elders

who puts on an

antic disposition,

or you might say,

a secret identity.

They often knew a great deal

about secret identities.

Hamlet is a disguise for

the author himself.

And who would the

author be, Glasses?

Someone other than

Shakespeare?

Is that a question?

I don't know how Mrs. O’Neil

felt, but I like questions.

Without them we grow stale,

weary, flat, and unprofitable.

We can't have that,

can we, Glasses?

No, Professor Hargraves.

Good, so inquire away.

You want me to ask

you a question?

Preferably with vim.

Okay, well, who did

write Hamlet?

What is your Christian

name, son?

Tim, Tim.

Well, Tim Tim, you have just

asked the question

that every man or woman who

draws breath should be asking.

The question asked by Mr. Mark

Twain and Dr. Sigmund Freud.

Just who was this writer?

Who is this author

whose very name

was a pun that promised attack?

This Mr. "Will Shake Spear!"

♪♪

♪♪ How long 'til the sun sets ♪♪

♪♪ How long can we hold today ♪♪

♪♪ I don't ever want to say ♪♪

♪♪ Goodnight my love. ♪♪

Hargraves: Old.

Hard to understand.

Boring.

That's what you thought

when I handed this out,

correct, Tim Tim?

Correct, Professor Hargraves.

Dear lady, do you concur

with Tim Tim

as to your opinion of

this antique tale?

It is a challenge to

decipher, sir.

To decipher!

I could kiss you!

What is your name?

Madeline Andrews, sir.

Well, Madeline Andrews.

It is ciphers, and code words,

and the business of espionage

that will occupy much

of our investigation,

and you will learn that this

is not boring in the least.

It's a murder mystery!

One in which the murder

is a great secret.

But let's begin there,

shall we?

Where love and espionage mingle,

as they so often do.

Open your scripts to

act three, scene one.

Tim Tim, Madeline

Andrews, on your feet.

Hamlet, Ophelia.

The prince, and the daughter

of the spymaster.

Let's begin here.

"To be or not to be,

that is the question."

[dogs barking]

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

Hershel: I ain't claiming to be

correctly interpreting

the signs you're

sending me.

I feel like I’m halfway across

a river in this enterprise.

Just trying to have faith you

ain't going to drown me.

[engine roars]

♪♪

[door opens]

[door closes]

[knocking]

Hi there.

Wallace: Hey.

Hamlet.

The new English teacher must

be fond of a challenge.

Yeah, he's kind of crazy,

but in a good way.

Did you have the tuna

casserole I made for dinner?

Indeed I did,

m'lady.

Listen to you,

Mr. Fancytalk.

We should both get some rest,

big day tomorrow.

You aren't going to say anything

to get my dad in trouble, right?

Your dad's been really

great this past month.

I think he's doing

better than ever.

Goodnight.

Eugene: All right, you keep

me posted, teddy bear.

Any luck?

Yeah, Mercury.

'50.

She's outside.

First one's always the hardest.

Yeah.

Look, I think I prefer

the garage work.

[laughter]

I think you'd prefer to move

out of the church basement

before 1965.

Or did I misunderstand the

kind of man you are?

Tim: My point being,

for the past month

we've gotten absolutely

nowhere with the cipher

because we were looking at the

meanings of the code words

without thinking about the

identity of the author.

Or in this case, the

secret identity.

A communist.

Why would a commie choose

these code words?

A plumber, a lark?

I don't know about those.

But I do know that

to a commie,

an eagle would represent

only one thing.

An American patriot.

With white hair.

Uh, sure.

They have white hair.

And the white-haired American

patriot was with Slim

when he was killed.

Hang on, Arthur.

Arthur, we've

discussed this.

Dr. Whittison

isn't a spy.

Hargraves says anyone

can be a spy.

Hang on, I didn't mean this

to be about Dr. Whittison.

There could be lots of other

white-haired American patriots

that Slim worked with

on the base.

Or new in town,

for that matter.

Arthur: But Whittison was there

when Slim was shot,

and spies shoot other spies.

Arthur!

Arthur: If you two don't

want to solve the cipher,

then just give the codebook

to Timmy's dad.

Come on, pal, that's not

what we're saying.

Right, Madeline?

Arthur, I grant you that

Dr. Whittison could fit

into this new

interpretation.

But I propose we look into

others who would also fit.

Then, with a comprehensive

list of options,

we can begin to see

which candidates

might better help us understand

the meanings of lark, dove,

and the plumber.

Tim: What do you say?

Sounds like a plan.

We'll lay off Whittison

for now.

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

Hello Millard.

I decided to take you up

on your offer.

Hello, Jim.

Or should I call you Hugh?

Jim will do,

among friends.

And are we friends?

I'm offended you

question that.

I've missed your

pretense, Jim.

And I your

arrogance.

Am I to suppose it wasn't

arrogance that foisted you

to the head of the

counterintelligence division?

I would suppose that it was

loyalty that got me there.

Loyalty and your towering

intellect, surely.

So, he was killed

right here, yes?

Hmm.

And you've asked us

to believe that your...

your little chief of

police did the job.

Is he on your

payroll, Millard?

Along with

Hoover's negro?

The chief is

hardly my friend,

and Agent Scott left town

weeks ago.

Yes, and returned only

a few days ago.

Oh, am I to believe that you

didn't know that?

If that's true, then you're

slipping, Millard.

Millard: Has the interrogation

begun, Jim?

I should hope so, after you

kept us sitting on our hands

for nearly a month.

Oh, you're anxious to get

back to your work, are you?

Hmm.

Of which I’ve made a

great study, Millard.

It's quite impressive,

if it's all true.

Yes, I’m anxious to meet

your pet doctors

and hear a lot more about

your star patient.

What's your code name

for him again?

Madman.

Hmm, very subtle.

Nurse: Happy birthday,

Lieutenant!

Frank: Well,

ain't this swell.

Make a wish.

[clapping]

[door closing]

John: June!

Honey!

June, did you hear

me calling you?

You were calling me?

Are you busy?

Just tidying up,

but I finished.

And piles of

laundry to do.

Hey, uh, Hun?

Yes?

Well, it's our anniversary

coming up.

In May?

I meant the diner.

Oh, right, of course.

Twenty-five years.

And I was thinking,

with Jeff and Sue

away on the school trip,

you and me could have a little

anniversary night at the diner?

We have Madeline

for dinner.

Oh, I know, but Louis

and John Junior

can handle the younger kids

and we can step out.

What do you say?

All right.

Swell.

I promise you won't have to

take me to the emergency room.

Judge: And the

reason for the delay

in the custody hearings

is that I’ve had an investigator

looking for Wallace's mother,

Jennifer Jenkins, as her

parental rights

have to be considered

in the matter.

Unfortunately, our attempts

to find her have failed,

which leaves us with the

assembled parties.

Social services reports

that Ms. Clark has been an

exemplary foster parent

and that Mr. Jenkins has been

increasingly respectful

of visitation rules,

although he has yet to find

gainful employment.

I have been working odd jobs

though, your honor.

And I opened up a bank

account and I add to it weekly.

That's noted as well,

Mr. Jenkins.

What the report lacks

is anything on the condition

of your hearts.

That's why I’ve asked for the

presence of the pastor here.

Todd, how are they all doing?

Your honor, I am professionally

inclined to view these matters

using a certain historical

document,

and I can't help but think of

Solomon and that child.

I’m sure you know the story.

Well, perhaps young Mr.

Jenkins does not.

Well, these two mothers gave

birth around the same time,

but one of the infants died.

Both mothers said that the

living baby was hers,

so they went to the king,

Solomon each saying

"That's my baby."

So he said, "Okay,

easy solution.

We cut the baby in half."

Don't worry, don't worry.

He knew what he was doing.

Right away,

one of the mothers says "Don't

do that, it's her baby."

She was the

real mother.

Todd: Why do you say that?

Because she didn't want

her baby to die.

You are a wise one.

And in this case, your honor,

I see two adults,

both acting just like

that mother,

both doing what is best

for this child.

Judge: Well, Wallace,

as the pastor notes,

you are a wise one.

So, if you were me,

how would you rule on the

matter of your custody?

♪♪

"And a little child

shall lead them."

It's appropriate.

Wallace showed some real

wisdom in there.

All I said was "Things are okay,

can we just stay this way

for a while?"

And that's real wisdom.

Congratulations

to you both.

Congratulations

for what?

Nothing changed

regarding custody.

No, no, but

you all proved

that Christ wasn't wrong

about us frail vessels

and our capacity to

care for each other.

Why don't you both join Wallace

and me for dinner tonight?

I made pot roast.

That sounds delicious, but

I’ve got a sermon to write.

See you later?

Thanks, pastor.

Thanks.

Well, I guess I’d best be on

my merry way as well.

You don't like pot roast?

Susan: And he will go

back and forth

over the same ground.

Like you're doing!

I’m not an idiot, Susan.

I understand that, darling.

But you are easily rattled.

When I’m treated

like an idiot.

Dearest, remember

what Millard told us.

Ashmeade wants to discover

that we are traitorous moles

who orchestrated Major

Kirkpatrick's treachery.

He has spent nearly a

month combing our files.

Hence my concern that he

somehow found about--

He hasn't.

He can't have, all right?

Good.

Now remember, remain calm.

No matter what, don't ever

appear surprised.

[gasp]

You just barge into my house?

Oh, I sincerely

apologize.

I knocked, but no

one answered.

And who are you?

I'm Ashmeade.

I hope I’m not intruding.

You see, Millard is

preparing quite a feast

and he sent me out to the

market for sugar.

But I, having been raised in a

small town not unlike this one,

well, I figured, why not pay a

visit to my new neighbors

and borrow the sugar?

So here I am.

It's good to finally meet

you, Ronald,

and you must be his charming

wife, Susan, yes?

I must confess, if I was

working alongside you

I’d have a hard time keeping

track of the periodical table.

Oh, and who's this

exotic beauty?

Susan: Our daughter Madeline.

Madeline, say hello

to Mr. Ashmeade.

Hello.

Hello.

And how old are you, my dear?

As of two weeks ago, 13.

Ah, the turning

of the tide.

Let me get you

that sugar.

You know, as a child,

I spake as a child,

I understood as a child,

thought as a child.

But when I became a man,

I put away childish things.

What wonderful parents

you have, Madeline,

working so hard in the

service of their country.

But I’m sure you've

heard all about it.

Of course she hasn't.

I'm afraid she'd find it

very dull.

Yes.

Your sugar.

Thank you.

And we'll see

you shortly.

Indeed you shall.

Well, I’ll bid you farewell,

Ronald, Susan, my dear.

Madeline: You tell me

about work,

helping the mentally

ill soldiers.

Yes, of course.

Your father's confused.

Go wash up for the Sanders.

Now don't stay up too late

watching Gunsmoke.

All right, I’m going to go--

Oh gosh,

where's my head?

Anyway, I might be

late is all,

and I don't want you to

worry because--

Mom, you've been doing double

shifts since I was four.

You're right, sorry.

I’m bringing snacks to work.

Okay, I’m going to go.

Bye.

Bye.

♪♪

Tim: I think Arthur was

just mad at first

that we didn't totally

agree with him.

Either that or hormones.

[laughing]

June: What are you two

chuckling over?

Just a little biology.

[laughing]

[laughing]

Welcome, welcome,

come in, please.

And make the acquaintance

of an old friend.

Susan: We met this afternoon

when he was borrowing

the sugar for you.

Sugar?

Oh dear, it appears my little

subterfuge has been discovered.

Yes, I never was much of

an operations man,

always more cozy in an office

surrounded by files.

But perhaps we can find

a use for the sugar.

I am very fond of sweets.

No question, that was the

finest meal I’ve had

since before I departed

for the Korean peninsula.

I'm sure that an exaggeration,

but thank you.

Hershel: Now I know this young

lad's normally charged

with dish duty,

but tonight I feel obliged

to take that post.

We can do it together.

Hershel: And I know he's got

an act of Hamlet to read

before Monday morning.

Regina: He does...

and I’m sure that if he gets a

head start on that,

his dad could lend a hand when

he's finished in the kitchen.

His dad can

certainly do that.

Well, as I was saying to

Millard earlier today,

with over a hundred

sites nationwide,

the agency's commitment to

MKUltra is hardly in question.

Well, perhaps it should be,

given the spotty nature

of the results.

"Spotty" might be

an apt description

of your division's hunt

for KGB moles.

Ashmeade: Where

might you

be getting your

intelligence, Dr. Andrews?

Am I wrong?

Ronald.

Would that conducting

a mole hunt

were as easy as separating one

element from another.

So you think chemistry

is easy.

Mr. Ashmeade--

Far from it, my dear sir.

Chemistry is difficult,

which is why the results of

MKUltra have been spotty.

But your branch here in Granite

Flats has been exemplary,

especially your Madman program,

which is why it's so unfortunate

that you've been

compromised by this--

What would you call him?

A traitor, Millard?

What would you call him, Jim?

Well, therein lies the problem.

I wouldn't know

what to call him.

I never had a chance

to speak with him.

Shot dead right here

in this room

while you, old operations

man going back to 1941,

stood idly by.

Idly by?

Try to recall the details,

my report of Kirkpatrick's gun

pointed at my head?

Ashmeade: As I understand it,

the chief of police who

supposedly did the shooting

has a son who is quite close

with your exotic daughter.

Does that mean you're

friends with the father?

John is a friend, yes.

So do you believe that

he shot Kirkpatrick,

or is it possible that my old

friend Millard here,

quite handy with a

firearm himself,

could have pulled

the trigger?

In order to silence

the major, you mean?

So that we would never learn

that Millard was, in fact,

the man running the major as

he's run so many agents?

But run them from Moscow,

because Millard is a mole.

Susan, that's absurd.

Susan: No, it isn't.

It's quite reasonable to think

that after Millard's son and

wife were sacrificed for America

his allegiance would turn

to the hammer and sickle,

not out of ideology,

but out of revenge.

Hmm.

I had considered

that possibility.

As you have doubtless

also considered

that there are no photographs

in this house anywhere

of the late Mrs. Whittison.

I have.

Then surely you've realized

that Millard doesn't blame

America for his wife's suicide,

he blames her.

♪♪

Ashmeade: You are

correct, Millard.

This one is

devilishly clever.

Oh, is that lamb?

Here's the kicker,

Shakespeare was a secret name,

like a code name.

“Will shake spear,”

because this guy--

The seventeenth

Earl of Oxford--

was a jouster.

Weren't they all jousters

back then?

Madeline: But he was

a jousting champion.

So?

Tim: So, he shook spears.

[laughing]

June: What is all

the ruckus about?

Madeline: Hamlet,

which our teacher believes was

written by Edward Devere

using the pseudonym

of Shakespeare.

John: I never got that

Shakespeare guy.

Tim: That's because you

had the wrong guy, Dad!

Shakespeare had a

secret identity--

Is that right?

Tim: And Hamlet's about

spies and murder

but a secret murder,

a murder nobody even

knows happened.

And people think the

guy just died--

All right, that's enough, Tim.

But he was secretly killed.

John: I said that's enough!

Would you all excuse me.

June.

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

[speaking in Russian]

[speaking in Russian]

Strange tales always ring true.

Man: Where do you hear that?

Some blowhard.

Who are you

calling blowhard?

[laughing]

Well-handled,

Lieutenant.

Thank you,

Lieutenant.

And your Russian

is excellent.

You and my wife

agree on that.

Is that right?

She's a swell gal.

Hey, we should

double date.

I'm not married.

Not interested?

I guess I just never met

the right girl.

♪♪

Happy birthday.

Hamlet, act one, has

been digested in full.

I won't linger.

No, uh,

linger a second.

I want to ask you...

about your wife,

Jennifer?

It's Jenny.

Nobody called her Jennifer.

Do you know where she is?

Probably about as far away

from me as she can get.

Her son.

I swept that gal

off her feet.

Uniform, stripes on my arm.

She was just 18 years old.

Wallace came 10 months later.

I was already on my first

tour of Korea.

By the time I finally

came back,

I had an attachment

to demons,

particularly those that

came in liquid form.

And I’m ashamed to say

that that's something that

Jenny and I came to share.

The difference being I could

usually wake up the next day

with my head on straight.

Jenny couldn't pull that off.

But I’ve got to tell you,

when they were talking today

about that woman in the Bible,

willing to let her child go

just to save his life,

all I could think about

was Jenny,

about why she did

what she did.

[door bell ringing]

Sorry, I lost

track of time.

Not to worry.

Hey Hershel.

Pastor.

Hi, Todd.

Hershel: You two

have a hot date?

Uh, with a good book.

Bible study.

You be in bed by ten, okay?

I can stay until then

if it's okay.

Of course.

Thank you,

for everything.

♪♪

Mother's maiden name?

Daugherty.

Your brother's middle name?

Why are we running

through our questions

when the testing's

on hold?

Because after today, it

might not be on hold.

Oh, so he's finally arrived.

Mr. Hugh Ashmeade, at least

that's what they call him.

And he may keep them shut down,

but if they start up again,

we don't want you

to forget who--

Who you are.

So, your brother's

middle name?

Steven.

Name of the first girl

you kissed?

Hey!

Since when is that one

of our questions?

Since I want to know

the answer.

Ah, fine.

Milly Warburton.

Milly?

[laughing]

Hey, hush up now, she didn't

pick her own name.

And as I recall, she was

quite beautiful.

Oh, quite beautiful.

And you were how old?

Oh no, this was

last year, so--

Okay, give me

another one.

Name of the hospital

where you were born?

I, uh...

Ha ha, very funny.

No, um...

Give me a hint?

Okay, Saint...

St. Vincent’s?

St. Vincent's.

♪♪

Now Ronald,

I imagine I’m not the first

person to make note

of the activities of

your brother?

I paid no attention to

Scotty's activities.

Oh really?

Not even his pro bono work

for the American Civil

Liberties Union

or the National Association

for the Advancement

of Colored People?

Well, that wasn't in last

year's Christmas card.

You really don't

like him, do you?

Hubristic idiots have

that effect on me.

Ashmeade: Yet up until

six years ago,

your families

vacationed together,

but shortly before you were

vetted for MKUltra, this--

This falling out.

Over what, may I ask?

It's personal.

Perhaps there was

no falling out.

Perhaps you share his

un-American sympathies.

Hogwash!

Ashmeade: Feeding

sensitive intelligence.

How dare you accuse me

of being un-American!

Do you know what I’ve

done for my country?

Read your files!

Whittison: Ronald,

that's enough!

Ronald: Shut up!

Susan: It was me.

Ronald: Susan, be quiet.

Scotty's third wife

had left him,

and he came to visit us,

and he made a pass at me.

Ronald: It was a lot

more than a pass.

And my husband

threatened to kill him

if he ever did that again.

Hmm, how chivalrous.

Well, you'd be

happy to know

that's exactly how Scotty

explained things to me

two days ago in New York.

Well, I suppose I

should be contented

that Scotty admitted his

transgression to somebody.

Whittison: Jim.

How about we

call it a night?

Certainly, just as soon as the

Andrews have helped clear up

a few questions about

their progeny.

Please, have a seat.

Now your son Linus,

your own flesh and blood.

You must be very

proud of him, yes?

24 years old, geologist,

Antarctica.

Does he miss you,

being 7,000 miles away?

I'm sure he does.

He's not terribly demonstrative

in his letters.

Yes, I know,

I’ve read them.

What I’m curious about is why

he never writes to his sister.

He's very busy,

and he's a boy.

Hmm.

Not even a card on her birthday,

not that anyone really knows

when her birthday is.

What is it you'd like to ask

about our daughter?

How she came to be

your daughter.

As I’m sure you've read

in those files,

we were posted in Seoul.

This was just before the

conflict officially broke out.

There was an orphanage

across the street

from the American embassy

where Ronald and I were based.

One day the orphanage

had a fire.

The workers and children took

refuge in the embassy,

and there was one infant

who wouldn't--

Stop crying.

Ronald: Until Susan held her.

And she held her all day

and into the night,

and we agreed that

this was something

we'd like to keep doing.

Very touching story.

Wouldn't you say so, Millard?

Even for us cynics?

That's strange,

I can't seem to find her

adoption papers anywhere.

Ronald: Well, they certainly

should be in there.

We provided them.

Yes, of course you did.

Oh.

Here it is.

Well, this seems to clear up

everything until Monday.

Monday?

You don't think I came all this

way for dinner conversation,

do you?

I require a demonstration

of Madman.

Good evening.

Tim: I believe

you're the killer.

You did it in the library

with the gun.

Dang it!

Well, I still think you're

the killer.

Maybe you're the killer.

I'm not saying anything.

Speaking of not

saying anything,

what happened with

your parents?

Oh, that.

Since Slim died,

they've been different

with each other and us.

My parents have also

been behaving

as if they have some secret.

What kind of secret?

I don't know, but often,

when I enter the room,

I get the distinct feeling that

they're changing the subject.

And today, they lied to this

man who was visiting.

Lied?

What man?

Mr. Ashmeade.

I believe they work with him.

And they told him that they

never tell me about their work,

which simply isn't true.

I’m sure I’m being

unnecessarily suspicious.

We should get back

to our game.

It's my turn.

Are you certain?

Give me that.

You're terribly stubborn.

Looks who's talking.

[laughing]

Your parents are

here, Madeline.

Oh, thank you, Lois.

Bye, Timmy.

Yeah, bye.

♪♪

Thank you for this, Beth.

I know it wasn't easy.

Which part, sneaking

dinner in here

or lying to my son about

doing a second shift?

Hey, I didn't ask you to.

I know, I know.

I’m sorry.

It's just--

If Ashmeade doesn't

shut this down,

I think you should quit.

Beth, hold on.

You didn't even know

the name of the hospital

where you were born.

Nobody knows what all of this

testing is doing to you,

and what if you end up--

What if you end up killing

yourself like Dennis Trask?

This is different.

How?

Dennis Trask didn't have you.

Frank.

Beth, even if they let me walk

away, someone would replace me,

and we'd never find out what

this is really all about.

And if we do find out

and it's bad?

How do we stop the CIA?

The eyes-only files.

They'd prove what's

been going on.

We just, we just need

to be...

patient.

You learn to be patient up

there in the blue.

Nobody around,

nothing to do,

just wait until you get where

you're supposed to be,

press the button, snap the

photos, hope you don't get seen

Hope you don't get shot down,

blown to pieces,

and ashes come to rest in a

land you're supposed to hate.

My mother was born there.

Russia?

She escaped when she was ten.

Parents had backed the

wrong horse, the czar.

She hated what the

Soviets did,

she wouldn't even speak

Russian anymore.

I had to learn from my

grandmother.

Do you see the target?

Got him.

[gunshot]

Four-point buck.

Looks like we're having venison

for your birthday dinner.

How'd you know it's

my birthday?

Aren't you training me to

collect secret intelligence?

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

Hey, Chief.

Hershel.

You’re miles from the church.

Well yeah, I like to take

the air at night.

Half of the town goes quiet.

Cold snap's coming in.

How about I give you a lift?

Sure.

You were awfully quiet on the

ride home, darling.

Did anything happen at the

Sanders we should know about?

Not at all.

I’m sorry, I should have asked.

How was your evening?

It was fine, but long.

I suppose we're all

a bit worn out.

Yes, I’ll get ready for bed.

Ronald: Madeline?

Papa?

Uh...

I just want you to understand

that it's my job to protect you

from anything untoward.

We, your mother and I, made a

decision, a conscious choice,

and the fact that I’m not

biologically your father,

that's meaningless.

You are so precious to us, and

no one is going to harm you.

No one.

Who would harm me?

Susan: I think your father

is just trying to say

that he loves you very much.

Isn't that so, dear?

Go get ready now, and we'll

come kiss you goodnight.

♪♪

You're a good father, the best

father any child could have.

[knocking]

Yes?

What is it, Timmy?

Are you feeling okay?

A bit better.

Thank you, sweetie.

Good.

Um, can I ask you something?

Of course you can.

Um, well--

How did you first know

that you liked Dad?

Well, it's funny

you should ask.

It was 25 years ago

next week.

Your father had asked me

out to the diner.

My parents said

it was all right.

Of course, they came too

and sat three booths away.

Your dad and I, we'd known

each other since nursery school.

But suddenly, we had

nothing to say.

And then out of the blue, he

picks up the hot sauce bottle

and he announces that he

loves spicy food.

Dad--

But he hates spicy food.

He does now.

That night, he was trying

to impress me

in the most absurd way.

And he doused the burger

with the hot sauce.

What happened next?

Well, he got so sick,

my parents had to drive us

to the hospital

to get his stomach pumped.

But on the way there, as we sat

in the back, I held his hand.

And as sick as he

was, he smiled.

And it was at that moment

that I realized this boy had

gone through fire for me.

How could I not

love him forever?

How could I not

love him forever?

Hershel: Don't think I

haven't thought of Job.

Well, you could have worse

role models, Hershel.

How about, uh...

I’ve got a nice piece of

salami and some crackers.

I can't stay.

But I did want to say if

you're out walking nights,

could you keep your

eyes open?

We've had a few car

thefts of late.

You deputizing me, Chief?

That's not a terrible notion.

I’m short-handed

at the moment.

You know I was

dishonorably discharged.

Well, I’m well aware of

your history, Hershel.

You going to tell me you

don't need the income?

No.

You know how to handle a gun,

you've proven you can

handle yourself.

How about we try

you out for a week.

Start Monday, 8:00 am.

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

[door opening]

My diligent little student.

How was work?

Oh, not much to tell.

So I guess that means Dr.

Whittison wasn't yelling at you?

Now I’ve told you,

he doesn't yell.

He's just strict.

Hey, do you think he'd ever

want to help me with science?

It's hard this year.

You know, I happen to know a

little bit about science.

Yeah, but you're not...

Strict.

Well, all right, I’ll ask him.

He might enjoy it.

That'd be great.

All right, night night.

Night.

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

I made hamburgers.

I made hamburgers.

Happy anniversary.

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

[knocking]

Do you require assistance?

Ah, tis easy as lying!

I beg your pardon?

Hamlet, act three, scene two.

Dr. Whittison,

meet my neighbor,

Professor Stanfield Hargraves.

Oh, not neighbors for long,

I’m afraid.

Today I found a suitable

rental near the school.

Late for a house call,

Doctor.

Scott: I'm not ill, we're old

friends.

Hargraves: "Those friends thou

hast with adoption

try to grapple them onto thy

soul with hopes of steel."

With that, I bid you a fond

goodnight.

So, old friend, when were you

planning to tell me

you'd returned to town?

I was confident you'd find me.

If you're here to look

further into my affairs,

you'd be making a

grave mistake.

Curious as I am about MKUltra,

it's not my purview.

I’m here to flush

Kirkpatrick's network.

Which you're so certain

still exists?

I am.

And as I said before,

I’d relish the opportunity

to work together.

Care to come in, Doctor?

Stay away from me,

Agent Scott,

or you'll wish you hadn't

come back.

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

Narrator: Next time

on Granite Flats...

Ashmeade: Fascinating.

Is he always this

responsive?

Whittison: Whenever

Nurse Milligan's involved, yes.

Hargraves: It appears that

you have a strong connection.

Is it one that transcends

your friendship?

John: Now that you've crossed

over from telling half-truths

to outright lies.

Whittison: A replacement?

Ashmeade: Ah, yes, yes.

I'll be taking control

of Project Madman.

Narrator: Next time

on Granite Flats.