All language subtitles for reacher s2e01_engcp

Grew up in the military,

worked in the military.
Always told where to go,

when to be there.
I want to see my country

on my own terms. Motels,

cash, fake names, travel light.

You get used to it.

So far, a run on his prints
has been clean,

but something could
still turn up.

No driver's license,

mortgage, insurance claims.

No online profile at all.

The only proof Jack Reacher
exists is the fact

that he's sitting in that room.

Took out a few men
in the course of your duties.

All ruled good kills.

Commanded the 110th

Special Investigations Unit
of the Military Police.

100,000 years ago,

there were people
who stayed by the campfire

and people who wandered.

I'm pretty sure
I'm a direct descendant

of the wandering type.

It's just who I am.

What am I supposed
to do with these?

Wash them and sell them.
You're a thrift store.

You buying anything?

What I'm wearing.

Jeans, T-shirt,
jacket, socks, boxers.

$22.

- Eleven.
- Yeah, Doug was supposed

to take that down
a few days ago. It's $22.

If you knew they were
supposed to come down,

- why didn't you do it?
- 'Cause it's Doug's job.

There's an ATM
across the street.

I'll leave you my passport so
you know I'm not running off.

Don't care if you do.

This job is shit.

Sorry, I have to make
another withdrawal.

Don't turn around.
I can help you.

Keep taking out money.

That minivan to my left...
that yours?

Yes.

Just for clarity,
you've been carjacked, right?

My child is in the back seat.

Gun?

Yes.

Stay here.

This won't take long.

Come on...

Your mom better
hurry the fuck up, kid,

or this is gonna go bad
for both of you.

Hi.

- Want to see your mom?
- It's okay.

It's okay.

Come here. It's okay.
I mean, I'm here.

Oh, baby.

That guy will be out
for a while.

Go in the bank, call the cops,
give them these.

- Gun's in the car.
- Wait.

Who are you?

Someone who prefers
not getting involved.

Here's $30.

Need a new jacket.

What's wrong with the one
you just bought?

It has blood on it.

Can I use your phone?

I just got a message
from a friend.

"Tammi Cates"?

Let me guess. Bank teller,

diner waitress,
thrift shop cashier?

Third one. I got your message.

110th. 10-30.

A distress call.

Distress call and airfare.

I need you to come
to New York ASAP.

Why?

Calvin Franz was murdered.

I'll let you know when I land.

Major Reacher.

Hello, sir.

Just Reacher.

I didn't tell you
to bring anything.

Oh, um, just
some office supplies,

in case there was any start-up
paperwork needed to be done.

- I hate paperwork.
- That's okay,

I don't mind doing any clerical
there might be, sir.

- Reacher.
- Uh, r-right. Reacher.

Um, I hope you don't
mind my asking,

what exactly am I doing here?

- Want out already, Franz?
- No, sir.

Um, Reacher. Uh, no.

I-I don't.
I'm just curious is all.

Saw you a few weeks ago
by your barracks.

Stopped a couple soldiers
from beating the hell

of each other over a stolen
care package from home.

Last cookie in the box,
actually.

One cookie?

- Yeah.
- Even dumber.

Bottom line, you negotiated
a fair settlement,

cracked a few jokes,
de-escalated the conflict.

Got a decent head on you.

Might come in handy.

Okay, I got to ask,
what the hell kind of unit

did Major Reacher
put together here, huh?

We got a bean counter
from Accounting Services,

a gas jockey from bulk fuel,

we got Dave Matthews,

Grandpa Moses and, uh,

a couple of guys from, uh...
where y'all from?

I've seen you
in Requisitions, right?

We've got names.

Sanchez and Orozco.

Which one's Orozco?

And who are you, besides
a guy who talks too much?

David O'Donnell.

And no offense, Pops,
but, uh, why are you here?

Isn't there a CBS drama
you're missing?

Lowrey won the Army
Marksmanship competition

six times,
both pistol and rifle class.

I've got a rule.

Plans go to hell
soon as first shot's been fired,

so your first shot
better be your best shot.

I'm the only non-Marine to win

the USMC 1,000 Yard
Invitational, and I still know

Lowrey gives us
our best first shot.

You think this unit's gonna
come under a lot of fire?

Maybe.

Then why'd you
grab a bunch of people

with no police experience,
Major Reacher?

- Reacher.
- Reacher.

Sorry.

Army wanted a unit
for particularly

complex matters when they arose.

To do that, I need special
investigators, not generic MPs.

If we're so special, why did
they stick us in this dump?

I mean, what is up
with this place?

Few years ago,
Uncle Sam made an auction bid

for some land down the road.

Entered the address backwards
and became the proud owners

of this building
and the contents

of the now-defunct
Callahan Insurance Agency.

But you're right.

Place could work
a little better.

Straighten up these boxes,
move these old tanker desks

to the middle of the room.

Let's go. You don't have
to call me "Major,"

but you do have to move
your ass when I say so.

Get to it.

Go backwards.

Okay, you want me
to go backwards?

- I'm going backwards.
- Go back.

Lift with your legs, man!

- No one lifts with their legs.
- On three. One, two, three, go.

You're doing it wrong.

I'm doing it
exactly how you told me to.

You think we're actually gonna
be able to work together?

No idea.

But I could use a beer.

Tell them I'm buying.

Reacher.

Neagley.

Thanks for ordering.

Still steam coming off the cup.

Tracked the plane online,
saw it landed early,

you don't check bags
and I adjusted for traffic.

Had the coffee poured
90 seconds ago.

Food's been there three minutes.

Appreciated.

Where'd you get this?

I'm a PI. I can get things.

Been a minute since Margrave.

Been two years,
seven months, 19 days.

You look good.

I look the same.

You looked good two years,
seven months,

19 days ago, so, yeah.

You look the same.

You look... road-worn.

Yep.

So, Franz.

Give me the Cliff Notes.

Went missing after leaving
his home in Brooklyn

about a week or so ago.

Body was found
in the Catskill Mountains.

Whole force up there
is, like, 20 cops.

And since Franz disappeared
in the city,

NYPD's taking the lead.

How'd you find out?

Got a call from Angela.

Franzy's widow.

- Franz was married?
- Yeah.

Fun wedding. Chocolate fountain.

He had a son, too.

What? Life moves on
when you're away, big fella.

- What else?
- Franz left me a few messages

in the days before
his disappearance.

Said he wanted to bounce
some stuff off of me

about a case
he was chasing down.

I was so tied up
with my own work,

I kept meaning
to get back to him, but...

before I could,
Angela reached out

and told me he'd been murdered.

It's not your fault.

- I know.
- He wasn't just murdered.

He was tortured.

Nothing but mucus
in his stomach.

Dehydrated. No food, no water.

Chucked out of a plane.

They didn't throw him
from a plane.

He was found in the middle
of nowhere with injuries

consistent with a fall
from 3,000 feet.

An airplane has
a stall speed of what?

80 miles an hour? 100, tops?

They would've shoved him out
of the door's plane horizontally

into the slipstream.

He'd bang into the wing or tail.

There'd be perimortem injuries
and there aren't.

He was thrown from a helicopter.

His broken legs weren't
from the fall, anyway.

Because?

Look at his blood work.

Full of free histamines.
Massive pain reaction.

You don't get these kind
of levels from injuries

sustained at the time of death.

Broken legs were a few days old.

That's why ferrous oxide powder
was found in his pants fabric.

He was hit
with a rusty iron bar.

- Must've hurt like hell.
- Yep.

He was tortured for either
revenge or information.

When they were done with him,
they dumped him from the sky

to avoid ballistics.

Couple of college kids
wandered off their hiking trail,

saw the body.

If not for them, who knows
when he would've been found?

So, next steps?

If he was calling you for help,
he may have been trying

to get in touch
with the rest of the unit.

Probably failed.

I called O'Donnell, Dixon,

Sanchez and Orozco.
No one's answering.

No listed number for Swan.

Even my office can't find it.

Always a private guy.

What about Lowrey?

Killed two years ago
in a car accident in Montana.

Funeral was sad, but...

it was good
to see the gang again.

Guess life ends
when you're away, too.

Franz's wedding,
Lowrey's funeral.

No one told me.

No phone, no address.

You could've sent me
an emergency

ATM message like today.

First off,
I just thought of that.

Second, it wasn't
really an emergency.

The emergency was the moment
the pickup hit Lowrey.

And be honest,

would you really have travelled
all the way to Montana

from Texas or Maine
or wherever you were at the time

just to look at a body in a box?

No.

So I'll ask again. Next steps?

You really want
to let some other cops

handle our dead friend's case?

That's what I thought.

Let's go see Franzy's widow.

She just met up
with the big one.

You've reached David O'Donnell.

I'm not around; leave a message.
I'll call you back.

O'Donnell. This is Reacher
with another 10-30.

Neagley and I are staying
at the Vale Hotel in Brooklyn.

Get off your ass
and call us back.

So, we can't call Swan.

O'Donnell, Sanchez and Orozco
still don't answer.

And the receptionist
at Dixon's office says

she can't say where Dixon is
or when she'll return.

Probably an undercover job.

Maybe.

Or maybe they're all
in trouble, too.

Mikey.

Go find your crayons
and do some coloring time, okay?

Please sit.

Sorry it took me
so long to disengage.

It's just hard to get
my sister off the phone.

She calls every hour.
My own personal suicide watch.

Sorry. That was, uh, morbid.

I shouldn't have said that.

After what you've been through,

you can say whatever you want.

Can't believe how much
your son looks like Franzy.

I called him Franzy, too.

Which one of you gave him
that name again? I forgot.

O'Donnell.

Right. David O'Donnell.

And he used to call you
The Big Guy.

My God, did Calvin ever tell me
stories about you all.

I know he loved me and Mikey
more than anything,

but from the way he talked,
I don't think he ever

had any more fun than his years
spent with the 110th.

I don't know about that.

Ever since you guys
got together,

whenever I talked to him,
he seemed joyful.

Happier than I ever knew him.

Thank you f-for saying that.

I know the police have already
asked you a million questions,

but do you think you could
walk us through the time line?

Sure.

I was away with Mikey in Provo,

helping my sister with our mom.

Early-onset dementia.

I tried Calvin for a few days,
and no return calls.

It's not like him,
so I started to worry.

Called NYPD, they just said
he could've been out

on a case because he was a PI

or maybe he was out partying

because his wife and kid
were out of town.

Do you think
that's what he was doing?

Out partying
with the wrong crowd?

Cal would call if he was gonna
be ten minutes late for dinner.

And he didn't party
with anybody.

So I got so worried,

I came back early
to find our home ransacked.

Nothing was taken.

The cops have no idea
who did it.

Were you aware of any cases
Franz may have been working on?

He never brought work home.

He said when he was here,

he wanted to be 100% present

for me, and Mikey.

I'm sorry. I want to help.

It's just so hard.

Every day hurts.

Just a few more questions.

Promise.

Okay.

What was his client base like?

Wall Street types.
CEOs, the hedge fund crowd.

Any of them particularly rough?

Causing him problems?
Stressing him out?

No. Not at all.
Once Mikey came along,

he stopped doing
the dangerous jobs.

Or so I thought.

Were any other members of
the 110th working with him?

I don't know. Maybe there's
something in his office.

Sign on the door is Three Rivers
Consulting and Associates.

It's 103 Flatbush.
It was trashed, too.

The cops couldn't find
anything there,

but from what Franzy
always told me,

the Special Investigators
weren't any old group of cops.

You do not mess with
the Special Investigators.

Your daddy teach you that?

Do you want to know how your dad
became a Special Investigator?

He stopped a fight
between two huge soldiers

because one of them thought
the other had stolen

the last homemade cookie
sent to him from his mom.

Your dad got them to shake hands
and be friends again.

And this guy, right here,

he wanted your dad to be
part of the 110th because...

he saw a man who stayed cool
when things got heated.

That's how we became friends
with your dad.

Okay.

You know Franz ate the cookie.

- Thought it was for everyone?
- Yup.

I'm pretty sure that black sedan
halfway down the street

was outside the diner, too.

There's a black sedan on every
street in America. Get in.

Did the manager talk?

Nah, I paid off the concierge.

He ID'd Neagley as checking in
under the name Sarah Conner

and, uh, paying
for an adjoining room

using the name Starlin Castro.

That must be for the Hulk.

Starlin Castro played for the
Yankees, six or seven years ago.

And who's Sarah Conner?

I don't give a shit.

Just keep an eye
on that hotel...

and them.

Copy that.

Pretty modest for
a guy with Wall Street business.

Unpretentious.

Close to home so he can
spend more time with his family.

Exact kind of place
Franzy would choose.

Angela wasn't kidding
when she said trashed.

They probably didn't
find anything.

How do you know that?

You don't go to this length
if you found

what you needed right away.

And they left pissed.

They weren't looking
for anything

behind this glass window,

but they put that phone
through it.

That's an act of frustration

by someone who didn't find
what they wanted.

Whatever they wanted was small.

You don't snap chair legs
in half to see

if they've been hollowed out
unless you're looking

for something
that can fit in there.

Hey.

Check this out.

Seems like yesterday.

Keychain?

Franz was sharp, right?

Very sharp.

So if he was dealing
with something

that could get him killed,

he'd have to put it in a place
that was very secure,

but readily available.

Somewhere in plain sight
that we see every day,

but a place
no one would suspect.

Okay.

So what's a place
that's readily available

that we entrust every day
with very important items?

This is a mailbox key.

I ever tell you
you're smart, Neagley?

Not nearly enough.

Shit. It's after 5:00.

10,000 combinations
if it's a four-number code.

- No point in trying.
- Good.

Hate guessing passwords.

We'll have
to come back tomorrow.

So, what do we do now?

Gin.

I don't even know why I play.

'Cause you hold out
hope you'll beat me.

I won a few hands.

If you let me win,
I'm gonna be pissed.

I don't let you win.

I pace myself.

Not in your professional life.

Don't follow.

Rental car's a Range Rover,

killer hotel rooms,

sent me airfare
like it was nothing.

You're doing well.

Clearly not pacing yourself
in your professional life.

Not to brag,
but the term "wunderkind"

has been tossed
around the office.

Two promotions
in the past two years.

They're opening a satellite
office in St. Louis.

Offered me director
if I wanted it.

But I like being
in the field too much.

Doing what?

Mostly investigative work
for high-income individuals.

Government entities, family
offices, that kind of thing.

Once in a while
we do a pro bono case.

Missing kids, stolen artwork...

So, it's not just
about the money.

It feels good.

What about you?

Saw a minor league game
in Sioux Falls a while back.

Riveting.

See it with anyone else?

No.

Did you, uh...

talk to anyone at the game?

I ordered a beer.

Okay.

Speaking of talking to people,

when you went out to get gas,
I tried everyone again.

Radio silence.

Who'd you call the most?

Sanchez? Orozco? O'Donnell?

Or... Dixon?

She has an answering service.

Instead of leaving a voice mail,

there's someone
to actually talk to.

Right.
'Cause we just established

how much you like
talking to people.

Shut up.

It's okay.

It was always obvious you guys
had a thing for each other.

Did you ever sleep together?

No.

Why not?

Wouldn't have been appropriate.

You were the same rank.

I ran the team.

Not appropriate.

♪ Just keep going 'round,
going 'round, 'round...

But you found her attractive.

- Who wouldn't?
- Me.

I don't find anyone attractive.

Gin.

I'm going to bed.

I'll pay you back for the room
and flight and everything.

I get my pension deposit
in about a week.

Not necessary.
I wouldn't have my career

if I hadn't matriculated
at the School of Reacher.

Consider it past-due tuition.

Something tells me you would've
figured it out without me.

Besides, it's a little weird

having my Master Sergeant
carrying my tab.

I'll get us square.

- Night, Neagley.
- Night, Reacher.

For you.

- Here you go. Enjoy.
- Thank you.

Well, here's to a lively bunch.

Should've brought your banjo.

Well, I think after this round,

I'm gonna head
back to Accounting.

Still have some paperwork
I need to finish.

Mm.

But we just got here.

I know.

If you don't mind me asking,

who directed you
to field this team, sir?

I don't mind you asking.

I do mind you calling me "sir."

You outrank me.

You're a Master Sergeant.
Almost everyone outranks you.

You're not supposed
to be drinking in uniform.

We're not drinking.

We were drinking.

Then you interrupted us.

She doesn't belong here.

It's the Army.
Do any of us really belong here?

You some kind of smart guy?

Smarter than you.

I'm also a man with a rule.

People leave me
and my pals alone,

I leave them alone.

They don't, I don't.

I thought his rule
was plans go to hell

when the first shot's fired.

It's an officers' club.
No enlisted.

How about I just finish my beer

and I'll be on my way,
okay, sir?

How about you be quiet?
There are adults are talking.

Now it's either she leaves,

or we drag you all out
by your asses.

I'm providing you an opening
because I promised my mother

I'd give dumb guys like you
a chance to walk away.

We got 12.

You got nine.

Well, that's a shame.

You're at least three short.

I thought I was done when
that guy got me in a headlock.

- Owe you one, brother.
- ♪ Get a little action in ♪

Yeah, brother. Here, give me
some more ice, call it even.

All right, hot dogs
are up in five.

Fresh one?

Cheers.

You know, uh, I shouldn't've
been at the officers' club.

I know.

Then why get into
a fight over it?

He didn't ask nicely.

You and I are gonna be pals,
aren't we, Reacher?

Already are, Neagley.

Hungry?

Hey.
Hey, hey, hey, hey.

Real quick.

Tonight, the boys of the 91st

learned a very important lesson.

And what did they learn? Hmm?

That you do not mess
with the Special Investigators!

You do not mess
with the Special Investigators!

Hooah!

You knew that was
gonna happen tonight.

I knew the 91st like to drink
on Thursday nights.

And that they're sticklers
for the rules.

And that they're assholes.

But now...

I know they can
all work together.

Photo op to commemorate
our first day as a unit.

- You. Fire. Go.
- Okay.

How about I just take it?

Ah, no, man, I got it.

No. No, you're not getting
out of it that easy. Come on.

Come on.

I got this.

Okay, guys, four seconds.

Whoa, take it easy
on your osteoporosis.

Ah, kiss my ass, young blood.

Okay, night's still young, Swan.

Get back to strumming, baby.

- "Free Bird"!
- Whoo!

Hell no.

No Skynyrd, no Zeppelin,
no Hendrix, no Who.

I like my music lighter.

But never fear,
after I take a leak,

you're about to get a little
taste of "Crocodile Rock."

- Can't wait, can't wait.
- Hey, Reacher.

They tossed me
from a helicopter, Reacher.

What are you gonna do about it?

Welcome to Los
Angeles International Airport.

Passengers, please have
passports ready...

Reason for
your visit, Mr. Mount?

Oh, Adrian, please.

Um, I'm here to sightsee.

Universal Studios, Walk of Fame,
Mann's Chinese.

You know, I'm a bit
of an Old Hollywood fanatic.

Anything to declare?

I have nothing to declare.

Enjoy your stay, sir.

Okay, thanks.

We'll keep you posted.

Angela has no idea which
PO Box belonged to Calvin

and the post office won't
give her that information

until the estate
has been settled

because the box was
in his company's name.

Should we check his office
again for mail?

We were thorough. Nothing in
there with a box number on it.

We can't just go in there
and start trying boxes.

They'll call the cops
and we'll wind up

with federal
mail tampering charges.

Then let's think this through.

Like 89% of the world,
Franz is right-handed,

so he probably asked for a box
on the right when you enter.

Humans favor
their dominant side.

He gets public records
sent to him,

surveillance photos, so he's
gonna need one of the big boxes.

I'll start with them, see
which one's packed with mail

since Franz hasn't made
a pickup in a while.

I just need a distraction.

Copy that.

Hey, how goes it... Albert?

I am a hard-core philatelist

and I have been fully aflutter
about this new batch of stamps

- that were recently issued...
- Which run?

We've got, uh, Desert Flowers,

uh, State Birds
and the World of Anime.

- All of 'em.
- Oh.

I've got a bunch of Susan Bs
jingling in my pocket

and I'm ready to spend 'em.

Um, okay.

There's at least two dozen
of these, uh, cartoons.

If you're not familiar with
anime, I believe it's Japanese.

You don't say.

Oh, and uh...

the State Birds are spectacular.

But never gonna get
50 different species.

The Western Meadowlark
represents six different states.

Oh.

Excuse me.

Excuse me. Can I get to my box?

Yeah, sure.

Sir, is that your key?

Yeah, I just... can't remember
which box is mine.

Sir, this man is using a key
that isn't his.

- What are you, the mail police?
- Sir, can I help you?

- Could you show me the Flowers, Al?
- Sir.

All good here.

No, sir, I'm gonna need some ID
that ties you to that box.

You know what?
I'll take all of them.

How about that?

Here we go.

No problem.

Just got my boxes confused.

You know what, Al?
I think I'll pass.

What do we got?

Bills, solicitations...

Potential.

Looks like your post office
hunch worked.

I ever tell you
you're smart, Neagley?

Not nearly enough.

We need to see what's on this.

Damn it.
My laptop has a different port.

I got to go pick up an adapter.

Do me a favor.

Order up a ride on
one of those phone app things.

I need to borrow your car.

You know Franz was killed
over this hard drive

and now you want
to go get a gun.

Yup.

But first...

I need to go to church.

Excuse me.

I was wondering if
I could ask for some help.

Well, that is what we give here.

I'm looking for my cousin.

He has a really bad drug problem

and a family friend
said they saw him

living on the street
around here.

I'm sorry to hear that.

Well, thank you.

I promised my aunt
I wouldn't come back home

without her son.

I don't know where
to even begin looking.

And I thought maybe the church

has a support group
or something, and....

through that, maybe
you'd have some idea

where Jimmy was scoring?

The devil did his best work

when he created
that poison, didn't he?

Sure did.

Almost everyone who comes in
to our outreach program

gets their fix
from the same place:

Dumont, just east of Rockaway.

But you've got to have
a death wish

to walk in there alone, son.

I'll be fine, Father.

I have righteousness on my side.

Little extra taste?
I'll get you back tomorrow?

This ain't no
furniture warehouse, man.

I don't do no credit.
Get the fuck out of here

before I decide
to get off my couch, man.

Yo, who's this fool pulling up?

Oh, shit!

Crazy motherfucker.

Cocaine, Oxy, meth.

Full service dealer.

Motherfucker.

Don't mind me.

I'll be taking this.

And this.

For the outreach program.

Bar codes are perfect.
Holograms, bulletproof.

Money in the bag?

Help yourself.

Six-figure instruments
are in the front.

First time I heard
about bearer bonds

was Beverly Hills Cop.

I didn't know if they were real
or Hollywood bullshit.

You could shine
a lighthouse on 'em, man.

Watermarks are flawless.

No one'll really know
who you really are.

But you know.

- Hey.
- Hey.

- Just getting back?
- Yeah.

Had to go to three stores
to get what I needed. You?

Got everything I needed
in one place.

Bet you did.

Oh, shit.

See you're still
using brass knuckles.

No more switchblade?

Look down.

Hey, O'Donnell.

Hey, Neagley.

Don't blame me
for this shithole.

I found it like this.

I was with my family.
It was, uh, Unplugged Week.

That sounds awful.

No shit.

Once a year, my wife
makes us get a cabin

in the middle of nowhere,

no cell phones,
no devices, no TVs.

Less screens, more greens.

Good in theory,
till by the third day

my devil children want
to kill each other.

So, I got home,
checked the voice mail,

got here as quick as I could.

Assholes snapped
my toothbrush in half.

Now I own nothing.

Glad to see you haven't changed.

You have. Family vacations.

Wife telling you what to do.

Not the oversexed degenerate
I remember.

I've been domesticated.

Apparently.

Got to say, pretty pissed
about this whole Franzy thing.

Kind of loved that kid.

So...

who we killing over it?

When are you due
back on the catwalk?

God, you must've been
mortified when you saw

you were wearing the same
clothes as the homeless guy

taking a shit
in a coffee can out back.

Shit. Password protected.

Hate guessing passwords.

About to hate it more.

Franz set it up so we get
three guesses in two minutes

or the drive's erased.

And it auto-launched
once it recognized a new device.

- You got to be shitting me.
- Nope.

Okay, so we got to break Franzy
down like we'd profile a perp.

Passwords come from deep down.

What was Franzy's thing?
What was he known for?

Being smart.

Yeah, but we
were all pretty smart.

Pittsburgh? That's all
the guy talked about.

Pirates, Steelers,
that, uh, that sandwich place

where they put the fries on top.

- Primanti Brothers.
- That was it.

Yeah, but not Pittsburgh
in and of itself.

It was his loyalty to it.

Franz was a loyal guy.

Still loved the 110th
after all these years,

taught his kid our slogan.

Do you remember
when he used to claim

that the Pirates of '79 were
better than the Yankees of '78?

I mean, the little shit wasn't
even alive when those teams

played and he'd still
argue his ass off.

Okay, but loyalty
is a byproduct.

Where does it come from?

Hero worship. Respect.
If Franz respected someone,

he couldn't be dissuaded.

Pirates were
the greatest team ever.

Miles Davis was
the greatest musician ever.

Franz was loyal
to what he respected.

That's it. You got it.

Roberto Clemente.

He'd only use the last name.

Wait!

What about Willie Stargell?

Did Willie Stargell
die in a plane crash

delivering supplies
to earthquake victims?

It's Clemente.

No, it isn't.

Who would use
a device like this?

Franz. For this very reason.

I'm gonna try Miles Davis.
Franz worshipped the guy.

Good a guess as any.
Go for it.

Nope.

Shit.

This is why I hate
guessing passwords.

Oh, this makes me sick
to even suggest this,

and outside of this room
I'll deny ever saying it,

but who did Franz respect
more than anyone?

Any ballplayer, any artist?

Who did he hero worship?

Get the hell out of here.

A few weeks into the 110th,
the kid started cutting

his hair like you,
talking like you,

following you around.
He wanted to be you, Reacher.

You better punch that.
We're running out of time.

Son of a bitch.

Don't go getting a big head.

Hello.

Would you like this?

Now, do you know why
I love comic books so much?

Because the good guys
always win.

Mr. McBride?

You're booked for
your flight to Denver.

Enjoy your trip.

Thank you. I certainly will.

Andrew McBride. Alan Mason.

Alejandro Mendez.
Alexander Markopoulos.

Just a list of names, all
starting with the initials A.M.

All aliases.

You keep the same initials
so your signature

never has to change.

Just an A and an M
with a squiggle after it,

no matter which pseudonym
you're using.

Well, at least
you can read yours.

I've just got page after page
of random numbers.

No order. No meaning. Nothing.

At least to us. For now.

Well, whatever this shit is,

it was enough to get Franz
killed, your rooms trashed,

and God knows whatever else
we don't know about.

These guys aren't shy
about getting aggressive.

We need more manpower.

Hate to say it, but he's right.

None of the 110th are reachable.

Well, we send a Christmas card

to Swan every year.

I think he lives in Queens now.

I'll have Lilly check
our holiday mailer list.

What?

You really are domesticated.

No noise coming from inside.

A little New York
background music?

Yo, Carlo! Your mom says
you got to be home for dinner!

Oh. You smell that?

I'll take the upstairs.

In here.

Collar says Maisi.

Drank the toilet bowl dry.

Dehydration.
That's a tough way to die.

Swan would never
let a dog die of thirst.

The only way
he doesn't come home

is if he couldn't come home.

Swan's dead.

Franzy, now Swan...

We can't get ahold of
the other team members, either.

Boss?

What are you thinking?

Major?

I'm thinking
there's someone hellbent

on taking out
the Special Investigators.

And they're coming after us.

Good.