Original subtitles

♪♪

Ronald: He lied to

us when he told us

he'd never been

behind the curtain.

He's more than

just one thing.

How come you can't see that

your fiancee doesn't love you?

You're in danger.

I trust if I am,

you will warn me.

Take the bugs out

and put them in.

By the time you read this,

I may already be with you,

as I am arranging for

a plane ticket today.

Frank.

You want Wallace to

live in Paris?

I would like you both

to live in Paris.

And if I say no?

What's Plan B?

Plan B is she

sues for custody.

June: He seems to be

convinced that I am fond

of another man.

You get to make a choice.

John: What if there

were another candidate?

Would you say that

person was worthy

of your investigative time?

Ezekiel: Who is it?

John: Ronald's brother Scottie.

Long time, no see.

Hello, Scottie.

We need to talk.

♪♪

♪♪

You know what mother used to say

would drive the heat away?

A cold front?

[laughs]

You're a card, Susan.

But no.

Dancing.

Dance with me.

Perhaps after dinner.

Don't you get a cramp

if you do that?

Come on, gorgeous,

why don't you

give this newly-single gent

a little twirl?

♪♪

Ronald do this

with you much?

When we find the time.

Oh, come on, honey,

where I come from,

we don't find the time,

we make the time.

Scottie.

What are you doing

in this little burg?

My brother's here

'cause he's a scaredy cat,

but you're not afraid

of anything, are you?

Except maybe me.

Scottie, you're drunk.

And you're beautiful.

[dramatic music]

[gasping]

Ronald, your brother--

I--

Hey, gentlemen!

Susan: Ronald!

Hey, stop that!

Ow, gol.

Susan: Please--

What are you doing?

Scottie, stop it!

What's wrong with you?

Susan: Stop it!

The children are outside.

Stop it!

Dr. Whittison: Let him go.

Now.

You ever come near

my wife again,

I’ll be holding the gun.

And I will pull the trigger.

Susan: Millard,

I’m so sorry.

Dr. Whittison: You have

nothing to apologize for.

Go out and tell

Linus and Madeline

that their uncle

was taken ill,

and can't join them

for horseshoes after all.

Let's go.

Go on, Ronald.

Please.

♪♪

Dr. Whittison: Inform whoever

sent you that you failed.

Beg your pardon?

Mmm, suddenly he's coy.

When you first turned up

a few months ago,

big-footing around,

all aw-shucks-curious

about your brother and

Susan's work, I made inquiries.

And yes indeed,

you are a lawyer.

Quite a good one.

Better than good.

But then, I’m a doctor,

and I know all about

donning the mask

of a profession

to conceal secret work.

None of my friends

could locate you

on the agency payroll.

"So he's freelance,"

I thought.

Hired specifically to

sniff around Granite Flats

due to your family's connection,

which you just destroyed.

You're not as good a spook

as you are a lawyer.

Quite pathetic, in fact.

A victim of your

foolish appetites,

which I suggest you

confess to whichever

of my enemies at the agency

it was that sent you,

as I will certainly be putting

it in my report to the director.

Are you drunk, too?

Because I think--

and maybe I’m wrong--

That you just called me a spy.

[laughs]

A spy?

[laughter continues]

Are you still going to deny

you're working for the agency?

Scottie: No hidden bottles.

I’m sober.

But you haven't forsaken your

fondness for married women.

Which has gotten the

local law suspicious of you.

And, now, the FBI.

I’ll cover for you,

tell them you're a civilian.

But whatever you're doing here,

it's finished.

Can't a man just be

visiting his family?

Ever the coy boy.

My message has been delivered.

I don't expect to

see your face again.

Pretend you're right,

pretend I am a spy.

My question is,

why do you think I’m one of you

and not one of them?

Because the KGB isn't sloppy.

♪♪

♪ How long ‘til the sun sets? ♪

♪ How long can we hold today? ♪

♪ I don’t ever want to say

good night, my love. ♪♪

♪♪

June: John.

Hmm?

Wake up.

John: What time is it?

Ten of six.

What's going on?

I need to speak to you

and I need you to listen,

and please don't

interrupt or look away

or get up and walk off

before I’m finished, all right?

All right.

I like Scottie.

Very much.

Because he talks to me.

He laughs with me.

He listens to me.

Which, ironically,

are all things

that you used to do with me.

In fact,

once upon a time,

you used to do

those things daily.

And sometimes I wish

that we could just

go back to those days,

but we can't.

We have to go forward.

I like Scottie.

I also like chocolate,

and Alfred Hitchcock pictures,

and tulips, and a thousand

and two other things.

I’m not afraid for you to know

that I like those things,

but I was so afraid for you

to find out that I like Scottie.

And then I realized that

you were probably afraid, too.

But fear can't be the basis

for any kind of life,

certainly not a married one.

And we are married.

And you may not

believe me,

but I want to stay that way.

I want you to

stay with me.

But not out of fear.

That's my speech.

June--

June: I don't want you

to say anything now.

Really think about it,

and then talk to me.

♪♪

♪♪

You're in early.

Could say likewise of you.

And yet neither one of us

birds with a worm.

Go all right Friday?

They bring her in?

That not Avon lady?

Yeah.

She the kingpin?

Nope.

But she's something.

[sighs]

Yeah.

So, gold star for you.

I’m obliged to you,

pushing me that direction.

Sometimes I got an instinct

about people.

Sometimes.

Listen, thanks for

holding down the fort all week.

I know the timing

may have been rough,

with your, uh,

your surprise visitor.

How're things

in that department?

We ain't reuniting,

if your thoughts

tend toward fairy tales.

Not today.

Are you going to at

least let me read it?

If you'll stop talking

and let me finish it.

I'd prefer that you

don't finish it!

You shouldn't have started it!

This is a capricious decision!

Far from it.

I’ve been wrestling

with this for months.

And you've been

working on the program

for eight years.

Are you just going to

throw all of that away?

You know,

I wish sometimes that

such a thing were possible.

But no, I cannot throw

the last eight years away.

Throw away all

the injections,

all the trials,

the delusions,

the screaming.

The things our daughter saw

in those files of ours.

None of that can ever

be thrown away.

But I am resigning.

And I would like

you to let me do that.

♪♪

Arthur: You think Hargraves

knows he's being bugged?

Timmy: Of course.

That's my point.

Wallace: Why bug Hargraves?

That's the

obvious question.

And we need to

answer it.

We're on the Quincy thing.

The professor and

the chicken pot pie

were in the same vision.

They may be connected.

What about the

half a postcard?

Any prints?

However, the back of the card

says it's exclusive

to the Liberty Island gift shop

in New York City.

Timmy: And it was postmarked

from New York;

forwarded on from Maryland,

so whoever sent it

didn't know Frank had come

to Granite Flats.

We need to find out

who Frank knows

in New York City that didn't

know he was coming here.

That could be hundreds

of people.

I realize that.

Madeline: There's possibly

another way we could go

with the lieutenant.

What way?

[school bell]

Madeline: I’ll explain later.

Okay.

After English, I say

we talk to the professor.

Let him know

we want to help.

What if he is

a bad guy?

A bad guy wouldn't

have chased us out.

He was looking out

for us.

Hargraves: "The terrible

doubt of appearances,

"of the uncertainty after all,

"that we may be deluded,

"that maybe reliance

"and hope are but

speculations after all."

You never fail, Mr. Whitman.

Therein lies the hope.

Olly, olly in -come -free!

Oh no, don't be shy.

I know you're in there!

Come forth

and face me!

He's pounding on the door.

Anyone leave that truck

since shift change?

No, sir!

Should we talk to him?

Do not get out of the truck!

I’m sending help.

Mr. Hargraves?

Good morning, Mrs. Ramsey!

Everything all right?

Most certainly not!

You would play upon me?

You would seem

to know my stops?

Is someone in the truck?

Assuredly!

Mrs. Ramsay: Mr. Hargraves,

maybe this is a matter

for the police.

[police sirens]

Apparently you're correct.

[sirens continue]

Professor?

Why don't you and

I go inside your home?

Let's say we go inside

this truck instead, Chief.

We're not going

to do that, sir.

Why not?

Because that's

private property.

Hargraves: My home

is private property,

and that hasn't

stopped the intrusions!

Please,

your apartment.

That is not

my apartment!

That, as you well know,

is a listening station!

[starts pounding again]

Come on!

Sir, if you don't quit,

I’m going to have

to take you in.

[continues pounding]

All right, then.

Open up!

You're under arrest.

You say anything further,

it can be used as evidence

in a court of law.

Law?

The law is a tyrant,

and you, sir, are its fool!

Bring me away to await

the inevitable interrogations

from one of Hoover's minions!

What, if I may ask,

does this have to do

with your brother-in-law?

That's your question?

What's your answer?

Did you discuss this

with Scottie?

What would it matter

if I did?

It matters because

his motives are not pure.

He no longer has any of that

sort of interest in me.

If he ever did.

Meaning?

I know you're well aware that

MK-Ultra has enemies

within the agency.

I believe Scottie is a puppet

of just such an enemy.

Someone who wants

to see us fail.

[laughs]

Forgive me, but that's one of

the most ridiculous things

I’ve ever heard.

Does it become less ridiculous

if Scottie places a trap

on the hotel room door

to detect intruders,

and hides a Makarov pistol

under his mattress?

But...

No.

We suspected Scottie

might be drinking,

so Ronald went to

his hotel room in Denver,

and his office,

and found nothing.

This was after Scottie first

turned up a few weeks back?

Correct.

He baited you.

He knew Ronald would check.

He was prepared.

So tell me, did Scottie

steer you to this course?

I...

I suppose he had a hand--

[paper crumples]

Dr. Whittison: Well, then.

I hope you will reconsider.

And I trust you won't share

any of this Scottie

business with Ronald.

This is the kind of secret

would exact a heavy toll

on your husband's rather

unpredictable psyche.

[dramatic music]

♪♪

Wallace.

Hey.

Hey.

So what's going on

with your dad?

Search me.

He split before I was up.

Oh.

Sorry.

Yeah.

It'll--

It'll be okay.

Better go.

Remember when you told me

your dad used to be terrible?

I thought you were

kind of terrible, too.

But you're

a good guy.

[school bell]

♪♪

This is an accurate account

of what I told you.

But it's not all

there is to tell.

It's all I care to share

until I have spoken to the

inevitable federal policeman.

Wendy: Hello, Mr. Scott.

Wendy, would you mind

running over to the bakery

and getting us some

of those apple-cider donuts?

Sure.

Be right back.

Agent Scott: Professor.

Mr. Scott?

Special Agent Scott.

My goodness me.

Were you bugging me

when I lived down the hall?

Agent Scott: Should I ask

you the same thing?

I have never bugged

another soul.

And yet it took you

less than 24 hours

to find ours.

It is not the first time

I have been surveilled.

But I imagine you know that.

What is it you

want this time?

For a lowly junior

high school teacher

to resign

his position?

What I want

is to know what you're doing

here in Granite Flats,

and I want to know to whom

these letters were written

and I want to know

why Jackie Kennedy

was in your crawl space.

In sequence, then:

I am here in Granite Flats

for the same reason

I have gone anywhere--

to enlighten young minds.

The letters were

written to someone

who shall never

receive them.

And your last question

is a riddle for which

I do not have an answer.

Would you mind coming

to my place of business?

Am I still under arrest?

Let's just say I’d like

to clear a few things up.

Hargraves: By all means.

Let us endeavor to drain

the swamp of confusion.

♪♪

What?

Either he's a brilliant

master spy,

or you've got

an innocent man.

You believe

it's the latter.

I told you what I found

in Scottie's room.

You find any booby traps

or hidden guns at Hargraves'?

You know what I found there.

Who'd you have

talk with Scottie?

Whittison.

He's known him casually

for years,

he seemed less likely

to arouse suspicions.

And?

And?

And nothing.

Scottie didn't tip

to anything untoward.

What'd they

talk about?

I wasn't there, John,

but I’m going to take

the word of a career spook

that he couldn't

get anything

pointing to Scottie

being in the game.

And yet the trap and the gun.

So Scottie's paranoid.

He's security conscious.

You're dropping him.

I’m taking a closer look

at the bird in my hand,

who put himself in my hand

this morning,

indicating that he, yes,

as you say, is either innocent,

or a brilliant master spy.

Do want to help me

find out which?

Yeah.

I’m stepping out

for a bit.

Might be the rest of the day.

Likely you won't be able to

raise me on the radio,

so just...

be good.

Do you think

he's in trouble?

Mr. Hargraves?

He's in something.

Seems kind of confusing.

That, young lady,

is an apt description of life

as I know it.

I’ve got to run by

the hospital.

After that,

I’ll be on patrol,

and I will be on the radio.

What're you smiling about?

Something happened.

What?

Nothing, really.

Uh-huh...

But something.

Quiet down, please, class!

I am Mrs. Rohovit,

subbing for the ill

Mr. Hargraves.

Now, as I understand,

Mr. Hargraves has been

focusing on--

Timmy: It's Professor.

Excuse me?

It's Professor.

Not mister.

Please remember to raise your

hand in the future, young man.

Now, as I was saying--

Yes?

What's wrong with

the professor?

As I said, he is ill.

He called in sick?

Is there a point

to your inquiry?

I’m feeling a

little ill myself.

Very well, you may

go see the nurse.

Now, as I was saying,

"Leaves of Grass,"

Walt Whitman,

young lady?

I’m also feeling ill.

Oh, well--

I’ll go to the nurse.

All right.

I’m sick, too.

Oh, you too--

So am I.

Now, wait just a minute...

[chuckles nervously]

Anyone else?

Oh, oh, I’m overwhelmed.

Stanfield Josiah Hargraves.

Born Westport,

Connecticut, May 17, 1889.

Anyone call you Stan?

"Stan the man."

My platoon-mates.

In the Great War.

Agent Scott: During which

you received a purple heart.

Quite the American hero.

Quite the young fool.

Agent Scott: Though I imagine

your decoration

may have been helpful in

getting you your professorship

at the University of California,

Berkeley.

Patriotism is a powerful force.

Do you consider

yourself a patriot?

I did then.

I do now.

Yet you were a member

of the Communist Party.

And you refused to sign

the Loyalty Oath at Cal.

In fact, you hosted meetings

in your home

to organize faculty

against the Oath,

helped students write letters

to the university's

board of governors,

incited protests--

Yes, yes,

I was followed and spied upon

and interrogated

by the likes of you.

Well,

not quite like you.

I must confess my surprise

that a man of your race

is sitting on that

side of the table.

You should be sitting

over here with me,

if not down in Selma

with Dr. King.

I’m not the communist, sir.

[scoffs]

I haven't paid my party dues

in 20 years.

Do you have that in your files?

The Loyalty Oath

was an affront,

not simply to

my civil rights,

but to the rights of all who

aspire to be called "human."

The Loyalty Oath

was a disgusting chapter

in the university's history.

One in which you lost your job.

And your reputation.

[groans]

"Reputation, reputation!

"I have lost

the immortal part of myself,

"and all that remains

is bestial.

My reputation,

Iago, my reputation!"

[scoffs]

Hey.

Hi.

You busy?

No more than usual.

We made an arrest

this morning.

A fella the chief

figures for likely innocent

put himself in the

crosshairs, as it were.

I don't follow.

This fella appears guilty.

But maybe he ain't.

Guilt's a tricky

thing to assign.

But he did do

something?

Yeah.

What's unresolved is if what

he did is cause for guilt.

What he did...

Did he want to do it?

He did.

Definitely.

Maybe he didn't reckon

the consequences.

Sometimes people do what they do

because they're

compelled to.

Regardless of consequences.

Or without thinking of how

it might appear to others?

Maybe there are things more

important than appearances.

Hey, Wendy.

Where's my dad?

He's out.

Out where?

Aren't you all supposed

to be in school?

Is this about

Professor Hargraves?

Is the FBI involved?

Agent Scott?

I’m just the

receptionist, Timmy.

No one is just any one thing.

Heck, a year ago somebody

thought you were just a thief.

But we didn't.

They have Mr. Hargraves.

I don't think he's happy

about it, your dad.

So where are they?

They took him somewhere.

But I really don't know where.

My dad go, too?

Wendy: No.

He said he was dropping

by the hospital.

Then on patrol.

Timmy!

Timmy, stop!

He helped us out!

He stuck his neck out for us!

For you and me!

We have to do something!

We can talk to my mother.

You think she's

a part of this?

No, no.

Then why talk to her?

Listen to me!

You said yourself

the professor's connected

to Lieutenant Quincy.

So if you want to do something,

let's do something

about Lieutenant Quincy.

With my mother's help.

But you said your mo--

She's resigning

from MK-Ultra.

What's going on?

We have to go to the hospital.

We'll explain

on the way.

Who is your dearest?

These are personal.

You have no right.

I have the authority

of the Attorney General

of the United States

of America.

Now, to whom were

these letters written?

You said they were meant

for someone

who would never read them.

Professor, there is a great

deal of language in here

that could be read

in an incriminating manner

as to your motives.

My motive was to share

the feelings of my heart!

With whom?

With my beloved.

Who will never read them?

Why?

Because I will never send them!

Because she's gone.

Isn't she?

She died of pneumonia

while a prisoner of war

in her own country.

In a camp.

Her name was Kaneko.

You can infer the rest.

You never married.

Kinji rareta.

Forbidden by her father

despite our love

because of the color of my skin.

You must feel a great hatred

for the American government.

After all you've endured,

it's understandable

to turn against it.

What I turn against,

sir, is fission.

It brings

no creative energy,

despite what our nuclear

geniuses preach.

I have been to Hiroshima

and Nagasaki.

I know the truth:

fission brings only death.

Racism, war, these are fission,

writ large.

Or small, as in the

heart of Kaneko's father.

I reject hatred towards him,

as I reject it toward

my government.

In my heart,

I must embrace him.

I must embrace my persecutors.

To do otherwise would be

to become them.

And that,

I will not do.

[door opens]

Well, hello.

Just here for my parents.

They're in their office.

Should I call?

No, no,

I’ll wait on the ward.

I’ll wait with her.

Dr. Whittison in?

He left early today.

Okay.

Catch up with you later?

You bet.

Beth'd smile to see

how you two have mended fences.

Yeah.

Hey, um...

Something happen

yesterday at lunch?

Happen?

With my mom and dad.

He came home and...

And?

Yelled at me.

He felt bad.

He went right to bed.

Left before I was up

this morning.

You should ask him.

Were you hoping that

they would reunite?

She's nice.

But, you know,

I barely know her.

Whatever makes him happy.

See you later.

[knocking]

[door opens]

Hello?

Dr. Whittison?

Hello?

[ominous music]

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

[knocking]

[sighs]

Hermits.

Speak for yourself.

I’m just a homebody.

I was referring

to the cookies.

You make these?

From my Aunt Minnie's recipe.

Well, don't linger

in the door.

I know you're here

for more reason

than just to

fatten me up.

I understand you've

had another vision.

That kid's not going

to be much of a spy

if he keeps

flapping those lips.

A good operative always

reports to his handler.

Which would be you?

It's what I was.

What I am.

What I’ve been.

And he's concerned

about me.

Well, I guess

he should be.

Sit down.

Let's have

ourselves a jaw.

Let's just

go find her.

She'll be mad.

I’m used to that.

[suspenseful music]

[buzzer]

♪♪

Susan: Madeline?

Timmy?

Who let you

back here?

Where is Papa?

In the lab.

Answer my question, young lady.

We let ourselves

back here.

We need to speak

with you.

Susan: You need to

leave immediately.

We will speak at home.

I will be calling

your father, Timmy.

This is completely

beyond the pale--

I know you're resigning!

Did your uncle

tell you that?

No.

How would you know such a thing?

Why does it matter?

It's true, isn't it?

You're leaving, now!

Let go of me!

Susan: MADELINE ANDREWS!

DO NOT RAISE YOUR VOICE TO ME!

Madelina: DON'T RAISE

YOUR VOICE TO ME!

Timmy: Stop it!

Please!

Dr. Andrews, may I

please say something?

Be brief.

I love your daughter.

I haven't told her that.

But she knows it.

Just like I know you love her.

Sometimes people can know

what's in somebody's heart.

I know that

in your heart,

you want to be a good person.

That all these

terrible things you do

are because you think some good

will come from them.

I know you want to do good

like I know you love

your daughter.

And I know that you want her

to love you again.

Even knowing all she knows.

That's why you're resigning.

Right?

That's right.

Right.

So.

We need your help.

That man, Frank Quincy,

he hired us,

me, Madeline, and Arthur.

He?

I’m--

Don't worry about the details.

He asked us to help him

find the month that he lost.

The month the woman he loved

died right next to him,

which he can't even remember.

We've already figured out

a few things,

but we're stuck.

We need to unlock

his memories.

We need someone who can do that

He loved Mrs. Milligan.

People will do a lot for love.

Yes.

They will.

♪♪

[music swells dramatically]

[door opening]

Wendy said I could

wait for you.

I went by your hotel.

I took a drive

into the mountains.

Perspective

seemed required.

Why'd you blindside me

like that, Jenny?

I thought you weren't

that same girl.

Why'd you shut me down

so fast like you did?

I thought you weren't

that same guy.

I don't know what guy I am.

I do know I want you

in Wallace's life.

But your plan where

we all decamp to Paris

so I can make toilets

for my ex-wife's husband--

I have a better plan.

Gained from my drive

up the mountain.

I’m on tenterhooks.

There's a home

for sale there

and Jean-Baptiste

loves to ski,

and while it's not the Alps,

it will make his bride happy.

We winter here, and summer

with Wallace in Paris.

I can make that work.

Now, what's your plan?

I just said

I can make that--

Not for Wallace.

For you.

And your amorous predicament.

[exhales]

That obvious?

Maybe only to your

soon-to-be-ex-wife.

She knows?

She's aware.

And I take it she's

in some measure of accord?

As much as there

is any accord, yeah.

How long?

Since I copped to it?

Last night.

But it's been there,

gnawing at me for a while.

Since the night

I met her, I think.

She told me

who I really was.

And who was that?

A man afraid of love.

Are you afraid to love her?

Maybe.

Sure afraid to hurt my friend,

the pastor.

He loves her.

But she loves you.

Oh, my sweet old pal,

we don't decide who we love

any more than we can decide

who others love.

Todd may hate you.

But how many years

did you despise me after I left?

And here we sit.

I take your point.

You're a good man, Hershel.

[scoffs]

If so, at great effort.

"I spoke of masks today.

Will my own mask be lifted?"

Meaning?

I’m sure you're familiar

with the device

known as metaphor.

You have a maddening way of

not giving me direct answers.

Well, ask me a direct question.

Agent Scott: Was this

the mask you meant?

A dime store caricature of

our dear widowed first lady?

No.

What was this doing

in your crawl space?

Hargraves: You might better put

that question to my landlord.

I’m putting it to you!

I have never seen

this in my life!

Why won't you believe me?

I am not the man

you take me for!

♪♪

It's not him.

We don't know that.

I know it.

I’ll have Whittison

speak with him.

Dr. Whittison: And tell me

what you think it means.

About me.

Alice: You're the host.

You've brought

them all together.

For a meal.

Of chicken pot pie.

Of secrets.

Of things hidden.

Like prizes in a cereal box.

But unsavory ones.

Are you suggesting

I baked those items

into the pies?

Aren't you a chef?

The teacher.

You know him well?

I hardly know him at all.

Then you'll likely

come to know him.

And the Sanders boy will

likely come to shoot him?

Or you.

It's hard to tell

who he was aiming at.

That's why you're

here, isn't it?

Fear of being shot.

Did your boy have a gun to you?

You know the one I mean.

Communism, you must understand,

is a disease.

Like influenza,

it has the ability

to wipe out entire swaths

of population

with frightening alacrity.

Influenza is invisible.

But if you could see it,

would you not

want to strike it down?

You think societal imbalance

is a correct system

of organization?

What you call societal imbalance

I call freedom.

Freedom for who?

Blacks?

Jews?

Certainly not Communists.

Your freedom is

available only to those

who concur with

your definition of freedom.

Stalin is a tyrant.

Do you deny that?

He who was of late your ally.

He was my enemy's enemy

and he is a tyrant.

What is a tyrant?

One who removes choice,

who exerts control over others.

Like one who

wishes to strike down

the disease of communism?

I am certain you are

a well-regarded physician,

so you should not need

a wayward schoolboy

to inform you that

disease is not a thing

which can be controlled

any more

than can be the will of any

organism to live, or to die.

Daniel--

Henceforth, do not seek to

control me, my teacher.

It will result only in

bad things for us both.

Did he shoot you?

Dr. Whittison: No.

He did, however, deal quite

a blow to my temporal lobe,

and then bound me,

which I had taught him to do.

By the time I’d freed myself,

he was long gone.

Back to his comrades.

Well, regardless,

the gun young Mr. Sanders

is to point at you

will not end in death.

You'll catch the bullet,

and turn it into a butterfly,

is that right?

Something like that.

[thunder]

[door opens]

What're you doing here?

Spoiling your dinner.

You want a cookie?

I was at the hospital.

They said you'd left early.

As you've confirmed.

Did I interrupt something?

Only a discussion

of past fears.

And future fears.

And the fictions

we invent for ourselves

in our unending quest

not to appear mad.

We were talking about that?

It's an admirable

pursuit, Milly.

And as someone who

threw in the towel a ways back,

I can assure you

that whichever system you

pledge allegiance to

is going to betray you,

or you'll betray it.

[dramatic music]

And so, Frank,

realizing you have

no reason to trust me,

I nonetheless

ask you to do so

[thunder]

As long as they're here.

Susan: Frank--

Non-negotiable.

Madeline: It's all right, Mama.

Very well then.

I shall fetch the

required medicine.

Come here, quick.

Where'd you get that?

Roy Milligan.

To protect myself.

But I don't want it anymore.

I’m afraid of what

I might do with it.

Give it to

your dad.

Timmy...

Susan: All right.

[thunder]

Hi, Scottie.

What...

Am I under arrest?

Where's your gun?

Which gun is that?

The Makarov you hide

under your mattress.

Well, I guess it's not

under the mattress.

Turn around.

Spread your legs,

put your hands on your head.

You got to be kidding me.

You know I’m a lawyer, right?

So if I’m not under arrest,

you're going to be.

I’m also going on record

as not liking you.

I like your wife, though,

if that's what this is about.

She's devoted to you,

which boggles the mind.

But de gustibus, as

my Italian friends like to say.

Or maybe it's loyalty.

What's it been, 19 years?

That's quite

an achievement, John.

Oh, shucks,

treasure hunt's over.

Now might really be the time to

tell me I’m under arrest.

Or release me.

That'll work, too.

I must confess I do enjoy

the sound of my own voice,

but enough is enough.

What do you want?

[thunder]

They've got an innocent man

in the frame, the FBI.

So you're going

to tell me the truth.

Are you the Plumber?

I’m sorry,

I have absolutely no idea

what you're talking about.

Maybe you've been so busy

with the people who work

for the agencies

with initials

that you haven't done

your due diligence

on this small town

chief of police,

but I was in military

intelligence in Korea.

I was especially good

at getting people to talk.

Captured spies.

I prided myself on not

resorting to physical means

of extraction.

But see, I know you're

guilty of espionage.

And I don't mind

hurting you.

Because I don't like you.

Well, gosh, John.

I like you a little more

because of that speech.

And I did look into you.

I’ve seen your complete files.

I have access.

Because you're right, Sherlock,

I am guilty of espionage.

But you got

the wrong agency, pal.

I don't work for the company

that starts with a "K."

It starts with a "C".

I’m a spook,

just like my older brother,

just like Susan,

only they, unlike you,

never figured that out.

I’m to take your word?

Pick up that phone

and dial the number I give you.

You'll take his word.

Susan: When you open your eyes,

you're at home in Maryland,

holding the letter

from Beth dated March 15th.

Three, two, one,

open your eyes.

Read the letter

to me, Frank.

"My dearest Frank,

"I know I said I would give you

the time you asked for,

"but a troubling matter

has arisen that cannot wait.

"I’ve made a discovery.

"Someone isn't who

or what they appear.

"I should say no more,

except that I need your help,

"and that I’m frightened.

I love you, Beth."

What do you do?

Write her.

Fly out.

Rent a room.

Call from there.

Call her now.

It's Frank.

Yes, I’m here.

Beth, sweetheart, calm down.

Just start at the beginning.

The KGB?

You're sure?

Oh, what?

You did what?

No, no--

That's a mistake.

It doesn't matter.

Fine, fine,

keep the meeting,

but I’ll go.

Because I’m trained

for this work.

Of course I’ll be careful.

I love you, too.

What did she say?

Someone is working

with the Soviets.

The KGB.

Who?

She won't say.

She says

I won't believe her.

But she's arranged a meeting.

How did she do that?

A note.

Reckless, childish.

Where's the meeting?

The woods.

North of the reservoir.

Go.

Now.

Take us with you.

Is it nice out?

It's beautiful.

I’ve missed the fresh air.

Are you afraid?

Does anyone come?

Yes.

Hello, Frank.

I hoped it would be you,

rather than Nurse Milligan.

It seems we have some

complicated matters to discuss.

Now I’m afraid.

[thunder]

♪♪

♪♪

Narrator: Next time

on Granite Flats...

Timmy: What lies would you

invent to save yourself?

[intense music]

Sometimes one wears the mask

so long it becomes his face.

♪♪

Alice!

Narrator: Next time

on Granite Flats.