All language subtitles for The Mentalist - 6x10 - Green Thumb.HDTV.LOL.en

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Van Pelt found some coded
files in Bertram's office.

(Rigsby) It looks like
a list.

Patrick.
Kim.

(Patrick) Thank you for this.
I needed the company.

(Kim) Who doesn't?

I'm here to make you
an offer.

The Bureau is willing to drop
all the charges against you--

if you come and work for us.
For the F.B.I.?

My terms.
I need you to read them

and sign it.

We can work with this.

I'm gonna give you
my home phone number...

In case you ever (takes off pen cap)
make it back to the states.

You are on U.S. soil now,
I am the federal government,

and I am telling you
that this...

is the deal.

That is a napkin.
Take it or leave it.

I'll leave it.

Kim?
Agent Fischer.

Agent Fischer.

(Police radio chatter)

Have you seen
the stapler?

It busted yesterday.

We have another one?
Um...

You know, maybe try
the copying machine.

It has a staple function.
Isn't that a waste of paper?

No, we have tons of paper.

I'm gonna go
with a paper clip.

Agent Fischer.

Chief Lisbon.
Can we talk?

It's adorable.

Please. Sit down.

How's Jane?

He is still in detention.

I know.

They won't deliver
my letters.

Three months now.

He's being kept
in isolation by design.

By design?

You mean until he does
what you want.

We want to help him out.
You want to use him.

Is that so bad?

In case you haven't noticed,

Jane is hardly federal agent
material.

Was he state agent material?

No, not really,
but he wanted to be there.

And while he was there,
he stopped the 10-year reign

of a mass murderer

and exposed a society
of corruption in law enforcement

that spread halfway
across the country.

Yeah, that didn't exactly
go down by the books, did it?

Yeah, we know how Jane works.
And we know he's a risk.

But we can't ignore
the upside.

He closed every case
you were ever assigned.

Yeah, he had help.

Which is why I'm here.

What do you want
from me?

Help me, Lisbon.

There are national security
issues at play.

Jane won't work with us
unless we meet his demands.

He has too much pride
to back down.

You got to give him a win.
Meet one of his demands.

One of his demands is you.

Meet another one.

We're running out of time.

Is your work here so pressing
that you can't take a break

to help your country?

(Knocks) Hey, Chief, uh,
I radioed Officer Phelps.

He can run to Kmart
for a new stapler.

Swingline
or Stanley Bostitch?

(Footsteps approaching)

Visitor. Splendid.

Not a willing one,
based on the posture.

(Door closes)

That's a little better.

It's good to see you.

How you holding up?

Ah...

You know what
incarceration's like.

Not really.

Well, there's no need
to pretend, Lisbon.

We're both in the same
predicament.

How is that? I have a home
and a respected career.

You're locked up
for murder.

Eh, you're splitting hairs.
We're both trapped.

How am I trapped?

You live in Washington.

(High-pitched voice)
I love Washington.

High voice.

(Normal voice) Why are you
being so stubborn?

The F.B.I. is offering you
a "Get out of jail free" card.

Well, you make that sound
like a good thing.

Isn't it?

Not on their terms.

If I can't live
on my terms,

I'm in prison anyway.

Might as well just stay in this
cozy little detention suite.

Well, that's your call,
but not today.

The F.B.I. dragged me here,

and they're not gonna
let me go home

until you help them
with a case.

So get your ass out of the chair
and let's go.

Okay...

Federal officers
coming through.

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(Indistinct conversations)

(Phones ringing)

Hmm. I don't see
a couch anywhere.

Don't start trouble.
At least not yet.

(Man) Over here.

(Abbott) We'll be assisting our
New York office on this case.

And our asset has just
arrived.

Mr. Jane. Lisbon.

You called me an asset.
That's so touching.

I'm an optimist.

We just started briefing,
if you'll have a seat.

I'm fine. Hey, Cho.
Hey, Jane.

What's going on?
Hey.

(Chuckles) We're in
the middle of a briefing.

We can catch up later.
Gotcha. Hey there.

(Monitor beeps)
This is Abel Schneiderman.

He led the team
that wrote the new source code

to protect the Federal Reserve
Banking System.

Two days ago, he disappeared
from his loft in Brooklyn.

There were signs of a struggle
in his bedroom.

Schneiderman's cell phone
was busted on the floor.

We are working on the theory
that he has been kidnapped.

Has there been
a ransom demand?

Not yet,
but we're expecting it.

Well, it's either that, or they
will break him for the code

and launch an attack

on the Federal Reserve
computer system.

What Abel knows could bring
our banking system

to its knees.

Oh. This is exciting.

Is this the case
that I'm here for?

We're getting to you.

I knew you saw me. Huh?

I knew it.

Abel has a young wife--

Defiance Schneiderman.

Now understandably,
she's emotional

and believes that the F.B.I.
is not utilizing

all of its resources
to find her husband.

And unfortunately, we can't let
anyone outside the F.B.I.

know that Mr. Schneiderman's
been kidnapped.

Otherwise, it could cripple
the financial systems.

The New York office sent
a F.B.I. agent

posing as a psychic,

but Ms. Schneiderman
saw right through that.

Well, of course.
She's a gypsy.

Woman knows a thing or two
about psychics.

What makes you say gypsy?

Well, Defiance
is a gypsy name.

Look at her bedroom.

It's gypsy catnip.

Abel there is Jewish,
which means

she turned her back on her
entire clan to get married.

Now she has a missing husband
and no family for support.

It's a psychic 9-1-1.

Well... there we are.

Let's go to work.

(Airplane engines roaring)

(Indistinct speaking on P.A.)

Thank you.

Coach. I was expecting
a federal jet,

or at least a helicopter.
(Ticket rustles)

Call the aisle seat.

You'll sit
where you're told.

You know, you can relax.

Everything's good.

You're still
a federal detainee,

and you're in my charge,
so, no, I won't relax.

And you'll do as I tell you,
you understand?

Oh, I understand you, Kim.

I understand you very well--
better than you do yourself.

You will stay within
arm's length

of F.B.I. personnel
at all times.

Any foolishness, and you go
back to detention.

She wasn't at all like this
on the island.

How was she on the island?
I was undercover.

You mean you were lying.

I was using a false persona.

Actually, I don't think so.

I think that was
the real you.

I think this federal
she-wolf shtick is,

in fact, a false persona.

No. This is the real me.

(Lisbon) Hmm.
We're boarding.

Remember the rules.

(Inhales deeply)

Ahh.

I love the smell of reclaimed
meat and onion water.

Do you have a $20?

Thank you.

(Vehicle door closes)

Liaison with the New York
office is waiting upstairs.

You two, stay here
and cover the exits.

There are two--
west and south.

Detain anyone
who tries to leave the building.

(Sighs)

Hey.

Arm's length, remember?

Yeah. I'm just
a little hungry.

I don't care.

I've already paid.
Now.

(Patrick mutters)
(Sighs)

This is where
the Schneidermans live.

It's mostly an abandoned
storage building,

but there are some
renters on the top floor.

No security cameras.

What kind of renters?

Usual fringe types--
artists, dropouts.

These aren't legal dwellings,
but they got a hell of a view.

Hmm.

In the photos you sent,

there were signs of a struggle
in the bedroom?

That's this way.
I'll show you.

(Curtains slide open)

Hi.

Mrs. Schneiderman?

Defiance.

Defiance.

You are Romani gypsy?

What do you know
about it?

Carny circuit.
My dad was a showman.

So, Defiance. Yeah.

Quite the painter.

(Laughs)

And who are you?

Patrick Jane.

I was invited by the F.B.I.
they said you need help.

Oh...

You're a psychic.

So I'm told.

(Laughs)

All right.

(Keys jangle)

Read my palm.

It only works
with a dominant hand.

No. Can't do it.

I knew you were a fake.

No, you're not
letting me in.

You're anxious about
finding your husband,

and you don't want to be read
by a gorger from the government.

You're feeling scared and alone...
(Sighs)

(Curtains slide open)
And you don't trust strangers.

And I don't blame you.
You can't trust these guys.

Jane.

I mean, they mean well,

and they'll find your husband
if you let them do their thing.

Says you.
Yes, says me.

Why are you asking the F.B.I.
to meet your spiritual needs?

Don't you have a trusted
psychic of your own?

I do. Cleo.

But he's not answering
my phone calls.

Hmm. That is odd.

Can you find him?
Can you find Abel?

Where was the last place
you saw him?

On the roof,
night before last.

What were you doing up there?

Sharing a bottle of wine
with my girlfriends.

Abel came up there
with his laptop.

He likes to unwind on the roof.
It's peaceful.

I'd like to take a look
at this roof.

(Door creaks)

It's the stairs
at the end of the hallway.

Hi.

What are you doing?

Spyhole went dark.

(Chain clattering)

What?

We're with the F.B.I.

Sir, did you see or hear
anything unusual

in the last couple weeks?

I already told you people,
no.

We're with
a different office.

(Sighs) So many,
like roaches.

(Lock clicks, chain clatters)

Nice guy.

His name is Nguyen Hai.
He's a Vietnamese refugee.

He used to run a noodle shop.
Now he owns the building.

He was home the evening
of the disappearance,

but he didn't hear or see
anything.

How do you know that?

I read the case files.

I thought you weren't
interested in the case.

It was a long plane ride.

So if Abel came up here
the night he disappeared,

why was the bedroom trashed?

I don't know. I got home
late from the bar.

When I got in, Abel was gone,
and our room was wrecked.

Was he expecting
any visitors?

(Defiance) I don't think so.

He would have told me
before I left.

This is
your husband's garden.

Yeah. How'd you know?

His energy's here.

He pours his energy
into this garden

because he doesn't like being
a computer programmer.

That's right.

He feels trapped
in that world.

Yes.

It's an orderly world,

full of rules and numbers.

But it's not Abel's world.

He sees himself more
as a rebel soul.

(Clicks tongue)

He really loves that
Che Guevara guy.

Yeah, that's why he rides
a motorcycle.

Grows his own vegetables.

That's why he married you.

Oh, because I'm a gypsy?

Yeah.

Because you had the courage
to walk away from

centuries of tradition
for love.

You may not know it,
but you give your husband

the courage to be who he is
on the inside.

Is Abel alive?

Why don't you help me
find him?

(Inhales and exhales)

I can feel him.

Where is he?

Just not getting
a clear read.

What should I do?

Well...
(Gasps)

Don't tell them
I said this,

but you should sneak off
and notify the media right away.

Hmm?
Okay.

So that this city can pull
together and help find him.

That is your only hope

at saving
your husband's life.

Okay.

Go.

Where's she going?

She, uh... wants to call
the press.

I-I-I tried to stop her.

Downstairs.

You must really miss
that prison cell.

(Patrick) I'll try
and talk to her.

You have done
enough talking.

(Lock clicks, chain clatters)

Hi.
(Door slams)

(Door creaks)

(Phones ringing)

After Jane returned
to the roof,

he went down a fire escape
to the south alley.

(Monitor beeps)

And that's where the cameras
lose sight of him.

Who was covering
the south exit?

I was. But I didn't have
a line of sight to the alley.

There are no exits there,
so I didn't think--

You misread the situation.
There'll be a note in your file.

Yes, ma'am.

Collins wasn't the only one
to misread the situation.

You mean me?

Yeah.

You're correct.
I screwed up, too.

And supervising agent Abbott
will note that in my file.

Fair enough.

Why don't you and Agent Collins
focus on looking for Jane?

You have an insight there.

Coordinate with Davis
in the New York office.

Yes, ma'am.

Thank you.

This is the real you, huh?

Let's keep our eyes
on the prize, shall we?

Abel Schneiderman.

We have narrowed
his kidnapping suspects...

Excuse me?
To three extremist groups--

Why am I here?

What do you mean?

I have no business.
Jane's gone.

We'll find him.

Uh, most of you will
recognize these faces.

You're only gonna find him
if he wants to be found,

which he doesn't, or he wouldn't
have left in the first place.

Take five.

(Murmuring)

(Sighs) Tell me something.
Uh...

Did you help Jane escape?

Why would I do that?

You're h-his friend.

Yes, I am, but I'm also
an officer of the law.

I'm not trying to get you
in trouble. I just...

(Sighs) I need your help.

I... (Sighs)

I was so certain
I had him figured out.

(Sighs)

Welcome to my life.

How did you make it work
for so long?

I've thought about that
myself.

I mean, after he disappeared.

How I made it work
for so long.

And what's the answer?

I have no idea.

Were you two ever involved?

That's a strange question.

Why would you ask me that?

Uh...

No reason. I just--I...

Uh, nev--never mind.

(Rustling)

(Clatters on ground)

(Pen clatters)

(Rattling)

(Tires screech in distance)

(Lid pops)

(Sprays)

(Rattling)

(Spraying)

(Indistinct conversations)

(Mouse clicking)

What are you doing?

Waiting for you.

To do what?

Notice me.

Who are you?

Jason Wylie.
Uh, junior I.T. analyst.

I work in I.T.

Analyzing stuff.

Okay.

What do you want, Jason?

Uh, we were told to focus
I.T. support

on the Schneiderman case,

but I'm my own man
at lunch, right? (Laughs)

So I stole some satellite time
to hunt for Patrick Jane.

Look what I found.

(Cho) This was taken
22 minutes ago

from a satellite
over Brooklyn.

You think it's really Jane?
It's not a trick?

That's Jane.

Notify New York right away.

Who found this?

Analyst Wylie.
On his own time.

Who is analyst Wylie?

Right there.

Feel free to join us.

You took this initiative
on your own?

Yes, sir.

Well, let's see what you can do
on the primary team.

Stanley, find Wylie a desk
in the bullpen.

(Vehicle approaching)

(Tires screech)

Down!

Get down!

(Gun cocks)
Face down on the street!

Thank you.

(Cell door closes)

(Cell door closes in distance)

(Bed squeaks)

Mnh.

(Cell door closes)
Congratulations.

You got one over on me.
It's a nice stunt.

You feel better now?

Mm... no.
You woke me up.

I don't get you.

You hunted down and killed
your enemy.

Why are you making
new ones?

Eh, you're right.

Running away
was a mistake.

I'm ready to discuss
the job offer now.

There is no offer,
not anymore.

Nonsense. Let's talk.

I am taking you back
to Texas.

And next week you'll be
indicted for the murder

of Thomas McAllister,

among other charges.

Guard.

You cats find the body yet?

(Cell door closes)

What body?

The body hidden on the roof
of Abel Schneiderman's building.

You saw it?

No, but there's a large
pile of soil

just by the garden.

(Cell door closes in distance)
Winter is almost upon us,

so what is that soil
doing there?

That's a rhetorical question.

The soil is there
to make room for Cleo--

Mrs. Schneiderman's psychic.

He went missing
the same time as her husband.

What are you talking about?

Abel found out his wife
was sleeping with her psychic,

so he killed him
in the bedroom.

But Abel doesn't own a car,
so he cut up the body

into pieces and buried them
in the garden.

Your kidnap victim
isn't kidnapped.

He's a killer.
And he's on the run.

You're good.

Thank you.

A good liar.

Eh...

(Door opens and creaks)

(Flashlight clicks)

I really hope this isn't
his idea of a joke.

There is that chance.

There's also the chance
that he's right.

If there's one thing
that this job kills inside,

it's a sense of trust.

(Knocks)

I almost forgot
what it feels like.

(Knocking)

(Knocking continues)

Hey, let me get some light
over here.

Well, there we go.

Hey.

Hey.

I can't believe
they gave me a desk.

(Laughs)

You can call me "The Coyote""

I don't think so.

That's just what they
call me downstairs.

Don't ask me why, though.
They never told me.

(Laughs)

Your name's Wylie.

Yeah.

Wile e. Coyote.

"Road Runner," the cartoon?

No, it's Irish, I think.

Uh, good morning,
Agent Stanley.

Hey...

Do you know the road runner
and the coyote?

Yeah. Sex traffickers
in Dallas.

(Whispering) There's a cartoon
about sex trafficking?

Hey, Cho, you got a minute?

Yeah.

Abbott and I went
to Brooklyn last night.

There was a body
hidden on the roof.

Jane was right.

He usually is.
You get an I.D.?

We're waiting on forensics,
but it appears to be

Mrs. Schneiderman's psychic,
just like Jane said.

The director wants me
to bring him back on the case.

That's a good call.

He made fools of us.

It won't be
the last time.

How do I get him under control?

(Sighs) You don't.
Jane is what he is.

He'll use you to turn every
situation to his advantage.

So what would you suggest
I do?

Use him to your advantage.

(Phones ringing,
indistinct conversations)

Found the body?
(Fischer) Yes.

Cleo Ascencio,
New York psychic,

astrologer, healer.

Also found a hacksaw
hidden in the planters,

same brand as the other tools
in Abel's kit,

with traces
of the victim's blood.

So Abel killed his wife's lover
and ran away,

just... like I said.

Well, it appears so.

Oh. Don't beat yourselves up.

You would have figured it out
eventually.

I said, "appears so."

He just received a ransom note.

A third-class letter
sent directly

to Abel Schneiderman's office.

What kind of kidnapper
uses snail mail?

It's smart, really.

Low-tech, old school,
no electronic footprint.

Unidentified kidnappers
want $10 million

deposited into an overseas
account by midnight,

or they will sell Schneiderman
to the highest bidder.

Next step would be
a cyber-attack

on the Federal Reserve.

You want me to notify Secret Service?
Please do.

This isn't right.

There are no kidnappers.

What am I missing?

Maybe Abel faked
his own kidnapping

to get money
to escape the country.

That's very good, Lisbon.
That is the best theory yet,

but it's wrong, too.

I need another look
at that loft.

Really?
Back to Brooklyn again?

Yeah.

Okay.

Don't worry. I won't escape.

Oh, I'm not worried.
If you walk away this time--

I know. I'll end up spending
the rest of my life in prison.

(Chuckles) No.

I'll shoot you.

Mm.

Oh, look, they have
"Skymall."

"Skymall."

(Moans and sighs)

(Sighs)

Okay, Lisbon,
what's the matter?

You.

Was it that comment
I made in the bullpen?

Because I think
it's a really good theory.

I don't care about that.

You ran away again, Jane.

Not from the F.B.I.
you ran away from me.

Yeah, but I ran back.

How was I supposed to know?

I thought you were
gone again forever.

Okay, you're right.
I-I'm sorry, Lisbon.

I... I didn't think
about you.

Well, you rarely do.

Well, that's not true.

I made you one of my demands.
I'm--I'm not joining the F.B.I.

unless they make you
a job offer.

That's my point.

What makes you think I want
to work with you again?

You are difficult
and exhausting,

and maybe I don't want
to put the rest of my life

on hold to be your sidekick.
(Sighs)

Have you ever even
thought about that?

No... no.

I hadn't considered it.

You think you know
what's good for my life,

but you haven't been
a part of my life for two years.

So let's get this case
wrapped up so I can go home.

How dare you think
that I would cheat on Abel!

And with Cleo?!

No, I-I wasn't reading you.
I was reading your husband.

You're a catch.
Your husband's a computer nerd

pretending to be a rebel
to try and hang on to you.

Men like that snap
when they feel betrayed.

It's true.
Abel is very jealous

and insecure
and he overcompensates,

but you missed one detail.

You're in love.

He's my little lion,

and I would never sleep
with another man.

I see that now.

I would like to be alone.
All right.

Please leave.

Okay.

(Clears throat)

Do you still think
Abel killed Cleo?

Oh, I know he did.
Guy's a hothead.

Those swollen biceps
and neck tattoos.

The mere hint of an affair
would set that guy off.

Why was her psychic here
the night Abel disappeared?

Defiance was out
with her friends all night.

There was no reason for him
to be at the loft.

Cleo Ascencio.
It's such a theatrical name.

You think it's real?

It is.
We ran his fingerprints.

Let me guess. Clean record?
Spotless.

What are you suggesting,
Lisbon?

Ascencio--
it sounds Cuban.

There's a scam
that they do in Cuba.

Brokers charge
large sums of money

to surgically
modify fingerprints.

They swap the right fingertips
and the left.

It fools immigration
every time.

How do you know that?

I'm a police chief.

With a lot of reading time
on my hands.

I did what Chief Lisbon
suggested

and ran the left-hand
fingerprints for the right,

and it worked.

Cleo Ascencio transforms
into...

(Mouse clicks)
Jose Martinez.

And who is he?

A fraud. A street hustler
from Havana.

Made a living picking pockets
until he stole a wallet

from one of Castro's
ministers.

Now he's wanted
by the P.N.R.

Jose Martinez?

He fled Cuba
and set up shop here.

Okay, so he changed
his name.

That doesn't mean
he's a fraud.

You have any idea
why he was in your loft

the night your husband
went missing?

Sure. Uh, Cleo would
drop by sometimes

when he thought he had
an insight I should here.

Now, if you weren't here,

would Abel let him
into the building?

He wouldn't have to.
Cleo had the security code.

He would just
buzz himself in.

Well, that explains
what he was doing

in your bedroom two nights ago.
It does?

Hot reading.

It's the bread and butter
of the spiritual flimflam man.

You gather personal effects
on your subject in advance,

and then you present them
as psychic revelations.

Martinez came up to see
if Defiance wanted a reading.

But she was out drinking,
and Abel was on the roof.

So he came up into the house
and he took a little snoop.

When Abel came downstairs,

he caught your psychic
in the bedroom

and assumed you were
sleeping with him.

Okay. Fine.

But none of that explains

who took Abel
from the building.

No, it doesn't,
because I don't think

Abel ever left the building.

If my suspicion is correct,

he is still here,
and he is still very much alive.

One of us needs to stay here
with Defiance.

I'll stay.
You don't want in on the bust?

Nah, the three of us have done
a lot of busts together. You go.

There's nothing like
a takedown with Jane.

Shucks.

Shall we?

(Door creaking)

(Door closes)

One...

Two...
(Chain clatters)

Three.

Do you know what time it is?

See? Distractible
and paranoid by nature.

Can't let anyone pass this door
without knowing who it is.

What the hell is going on
out here?

Glad you asked.
There's been a murder.

And you said already.
Schneiderman.

No, he was kidnapped.
Another man's been murdered,

but you know that, right?

I don't know what you're
talking about.

Sure, you do.
You know everything,

including where Schneiderman
is right now.

I don't know anything.

He's in your apartment,
isn't he?

Probably in the bathroom.
No. You value your privacy.

I'm gonna say...
stashed in a closet.

Watch out, Jane.
(Jiggles handle)

Open the door, Nguyen!

Uh, somebody gonna break
the door?

Go ahead.

All right, I'm ready.

Break right.

I got him.
Go find Schneiderman.

(Nguyen sighs)

(Muffled shouting)

(Whimpering and shouting
indistinctly, muffled)

(Muffled sobbing)

(Abbott) Did you invite
Jose Martinez

into your loft
the night of his death?

No. I came down
from the roof,

and he was there
in our bedroom.

And what was he doing?

That's what I wanted
to know.

Hey!

(Shatters)
Hey! Abel!

Uh, this isn't
what it looks like.

What are you doing?
Uh... nothing. See?

Where's Defiance?
Defiance?!

She's not here.
I let myself in! I should go.

You're not going anywhere!
(Grunts)

I'm sorry, okay?
I should go.

(Grunting)

(Schneiderman)
I kind of lost it.

(Grunting continues,
objects shattering)

All right! All right!

(Shouts indistinctly)
I'll go!

His foot got caught
in the shag throw.

His--his head hit
the coffee table.

It was horrible.

And why didn't you
call the police?

With a dead man
on the floor?

What you described
is involuntary manslaughter.

You would have been out
in six months.

Then what?

I work the Feds.
My career would have been over.

(Voice breaks)
I would have lost Defiance.

That's when I decided
to hide the body.

(Door creaks and closes)

(Fischer) And the squeaky
hallway door made sure

you always heard
the Schneidermans.

That is how you came to see

Abel hauling a body
to the roof.

(Scraping and rustling)

Who is he?
(Gasps)

(Sighs, panting)

Just somebody who deserved
what he got.

This...
This is a bad dream.

Just go back to bed,
Mr. Nguyen.

I'm not sleepy.

What do you want?

You want money? Fine.

I'll give you $5,000

to forget everything
you saw here tonight.

You're that security contractor

for the federal government.

Yeah.

(Cocks hammer)

Exactly how much are you
worth to the government?

Our colleague Mr. Jane
suspected

there was more to you
than meets the eye.

(Cho) You didn't get those
scars on your face

from running a noodle shop.

You're a gangster from way back.
Green Dragons?

(Chuckles)

"Born to kill."

It was the bloodiest street gang
in New York history.

All Vietnamese refugees.

I hear you guys owned
Chinatown in the '80s.

We owned New York.

One last story
for the record books.

How an original member
of B.T.K.

almost took the feds
for $10 million.

Give me that confession.

(Exhales)

Give me the pen.

(Clicks pen)

(Knock on door)
(Typing)

You wanted to talk to me?

You have a sharp mind.

And people like you.

Some people.

Well...

I didn't think so before,

but I can see this arrangement
working on a permanent basis.

I like you, too, Dennis.

And I can see working
with you in the future,

but only on my terms,
and you know that.

Yeah, we've been through this.
There's no deals.

No demands, no negotiations.

We are offering you a career,
a clean slate,

a chance
to make a difference.

(Sighs)

You drive a hard bargain,
Dennis.

Okay, pet leopard's
off the table.

Forget about that.

But I need the full pardon.
And the Airstream.

And I need a couch, man,

'cause everything is cold
and hard around here.

And...

I need a job offer
for Lisbon.

I am sure that some people

find this side of you
endearing...

But I'm not one of them.

I'll be following
your murder trial on the TV.

Good luck.

Okay.

Thank you.

Oh, enjoy your mail.

(Door closes)

Fellas. Stop right there.

Jane...

Where did you get this from?

Oh, a thumb drive
Gail Bertram was hiding.

This is the first
I'm hearing about it.

It's the first
I've talked of it.

These are all the members
of the Blake Association.

Correct.

I figured Bertram was
keeping it as insurance.

Well, we've arrested
or retired all of these people.

Yes, you have--

except the ones
that I've blacked out.

Those ones you haven't caught.

We caught them all.

Did you? Well, I guess
Bertram was wrong then.

Give me the names.

A couple of judges,
a congressman,

several F.B.I. agents.
Names.

Big names, some of them.

If that list ever got out
to the press,

it'd cause all kinds
of turmoil, wouldn't it?

Are you threatening me?
Oh, no.

Just pointing out
that we both have the power

to create misery.

Okay.

You give me the names,
and we'll agree

to all of your terms
on the contract.

If I give you the names,
you'll break the contract.

You've already done it once.

What do you propose?

I propose that you surrender
to my terms,

and when I'm finished
with your contract,

and only then,

I will give you the names.

Get him out of here.

(Inhales and clears throat)

Mm...

Well...
Hmm?

You did it this time.

You brought the F.B.I.
to its knees.

(Chuckles)

Did I?

They conceded
to all your demands.

Every single one.
How did you do it?

Well, remember
that thumb drive

we found in Bertram's
wine cellar?

The encrypted database?

It's a list
of Blake Association members.

I used it as leverage.

But we never broke
the encryption.

(Lowered voice) Yeah,
the F.B.I. doesn't know that.

(Lowered voice)
That's why you escaped.

To create a bogus list
of names.

And to enjoy a bacon-wrapped
hot dog.

(Normal voice) I have to say,
I am impressed.

You outplayed the F.B.I.
(Scoffs, normal voice) No contest.

Did they tell you
when I start work?

When we start.

We?

What about your job?

Nah. It was boring.
Yeah, I told you.

Yeah. But you had
no right to.

It's my life, and I'll decide
what to do with it.

And you decided correctly.
There was never any choice.

Oh, come on. It'll be fun.

Let's see what kind
of trouble we can make.

I got you something.

For me?

Mm-hmm.

You got me socks.

Handmade in Washington.

Oh...

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