All language subtitles for NCIS.New.Orleans.S01E05.It.Happened.Last.Night.1080p.WEB-DL.DD5.1.H.264-CtrlHD

GUIDE: So, uh, how long
y'all been married?

MAN:
Just a week.

We're on our
honeymoon.

Camp Pendleton,
near San Diego, is home.

Yeah, well I can't think of
a more romantic place than

New Orleans or the Bayou.

That said,

hold on to your sweetheart,
'cause this is gator country.

You never know what's
gonna come up for a nibble.

Uh-oh...

Uh-oh, look out.

Here comes trouble.

(gunshot)
(laughs)

Oh, Lord have mercy.
That was close.

Dude, it's fake.

Oh yeah? Why don't you stick

your hand in her mouth
and tell me how fake she is?

That one looks way better.

Can you, uh, pull closer?
We want to get a picture.

Oh, no, no, no, no.

No, no, we're not
getting closer.

I'm calling
the police.

That one's real.

♪ Boom, boom, boom, boom ♪

♪ Bang, bang, bang, bang ♪

♪ Boom, boom, boom, boom ♪

♪ How, how, how, how ♪

♪ Hey, hey ♪

♪ You gotta come on. ♪

Mmm!

Whoever invented praline bacon
should win a Nobel Prize.

I can't even think of a
word to adequately describe

how good this tastes.
Mmm!

You should try some of these
shrimp and grits.

So...

I ran into a mutual friend
of ours last night--

Logan Ross.

Really? Where?

In the French Quarter.
He was in town

for the gospel festival.

He said you two
worked together.

Yeah, in Chicago.
Two years.

Love me some Logan.

He loves him some Brody.

Good guy. Great storyteller.

I mean, he told me a beauty.

About...

About you.

Well, A: I don't have
anything to hide,

and B:

you should mind your
own damn business.

Well, A: everyone
has something to hide.

And B: he offered it up.
I didn't even have to ask.

And C: since you don't
seem to like to divulge,

I was all ears.

Okay, did he tell
you about the time

we went skinny dipping
in Lake Michigan?

Because, remember,
in Europe,

topless is just another
day at the beach.

(phones ringing)

Pride.

Dead Marine
in the bayou.

Let's go.

Now, like I said,
we-we was on the boat...

WADE:
Brody, Lasalle.

LASALLE:
Miss Loretta.

What's up?

Got a honeymooning couple
enjoying a bayou boat ride

until they came
across the deceased.

That's not what
I'm talking about, Loretta.

Talking about that look
in your eye.

I broke up with James.

Why?

He was... too interested
and available for my taste.

Since when is available
is a problem?

Well, he's never
been married, Dwayne.

And any man his age

who has never made
a serious commitment,

they...
sends up red flags.

Loretta, you're his age.

You've never
been married either.

This is why I like the dead.

They don't call me
on my hypocrisy.

Back to business.

Chief Warrant Officer

William Reed.

Worked counterintelligence.

His previous job was at Gitmo.

I informed CACO to
notify his wife.

Cause of death?

It's still early
in the mystery, but

chapter one is
that unfortunate

contusion on his forehead.

Looks perimortem.

Happened close to
his time of death.

Speaking of...

estimate of TOD?

I'd say between
6:00 and 9:00.

Thank you.

I'll know more later.

Well, you always do.

(sighs)

William was
the real deal.

Dropped out of law school
the day after 9/11

and enlisted in the Corps.

Did two tours of duty
in Afghanistan.

He was Human Source
Intelligence?
Yes, sir.

His OQR said his last
posting was Guantanamo?

OQR is Officer
Qualification Record.

I'm from the Great Lakes
office, not Siberia.

(clears throat)

You said he was an interrogator?

Dealt with the most
sensitive detainees.

Guys they picked up
on the battlefield.
(phone beeping)

Excuse me.

Bag and tag computers,
tablets, phones--

anything with a memory.

We're gonna need
to identify his access

to classified programs.

You'll have to
read us in so we can

review what he was working on.

Yes, sir.

I'm sorry.

WADE:
The cause of death
is consistent with drowning.

Which is not a surprise.

So, my guess is you
either want to talk

more about the end of your
relationship with James,

or another shoe's
about to drop.

The latter.
For sure.

(grunting)

Bad timing?

Hmm? Oh, not at all.

I was just trying an experiment
in weight distribution.

Someone once said to me,
"Always expect the unexpected."

Unfortunately,
it was my urologist.

And that is not the someone
you want to hear that from.

(clears throat) Chemical
analysis showed the water

found in Reed's lungs...
was not the same water

he was discovered in.

So he was drowned
somewhere else and was

dumped in the wetlands?
Yeah, but that's
not the weird part.

No, I'm thinking the weird
part was you sitting on him.

You cannot underestimate
the importance of ergonomics.

I found traces of black cotton
fibers in his nose and mouth.

Yeah, and bruising
suggests something was

pressed up
against his lips.

If you'd be kind as to hold this
over LASMAN's mouth and nose.

Uh, "Life-sized Articulated
Simulator Mannequin."

With the dummies, it's best
when you keep it technical.

A computer simulation
using available evidence

indicates that his legs
were above his head;

water went into the
victim's mouth and lungs,

all consistent
with someone...

Someone who was waterboarded.

VANCE (over speaker):
Waterboarded?

Yes, Director. Gitmo forwarded
a list of all the prisoners

Chief Warrant Officer
had contact with,

along with
their current status.

About half have been released.

Any stand out?

They all stand out.

And all would see it
as a coup to...

waterboard
a United States Marine.

Any domestic chatter?

The FBI says no.

I've reached out to the CIA.

But if this was retribution...

Someone should be taking credit.

Let me talk to NSA and Homeland,

get everyone's point of view.

Sir, if this gets any bigger

I'm gonna need support
from Washington.

Special Agent Pride,

anything you need,

that will be my priority.

What do we know?

LASALLE:
Interagency has nada--

CIA, FBI, NSA--

no one's reporting
chatter about

Chief Warrant Officer
William Reed's death.

Not a peep about
a plot to waterboard.

Middle East, Far East, Africa--
No imminent threat.

Silence?

And then some.

Just spoke to the
Casualty Assistance Officer.

He's made his rounds...

can't find
officer Reed's wife anywhere.

Name is Marilyn Reed.

Didn't show up for work.

Cell goes straight
to voice mail.

I'll get a home address.

(doorbell chimes)

Keep knocking.

I'll check around back.

(doorbell chimes)

Okay... I know Logan
told you about

my sister's
bachelorette party in Chicago.

I'm sorry-- Logan who?

(imitates accent):
Ross.

Oh, that Logan?

The bachelorette party.

That story? It's...

It's really no big deal.

'Cause I... honestly thought

I had hired
a legitimate stripper.

No. He didn't tell me
that story.

But I appreciate the
added Brody intel.

(quietly):
Hey.

Someone jimmied
the side door.

Eyes and ears. On my lead.

NCIS!

Federal agents!

(door creaks in distance)

NCIS!
Oh, my God!
LASALLE: Who are you?

Helaine. Helaine Morgan.
I-I live next door.

Um...

I, uh, I saw your... I saw
your car pull up and then I j...

I came by to make sure
everything

was all right with...

You have a moment?
Yeah.

Okay.
PRIDE: When was the last time
you saw William Reed

or his wife?

I saw Marilyn yesterday

after her training session.

Is she okay?

You know he does
counterintelligence
for the Corps?

Man is a patriot.

And Marilyn is the wife
every patriot deserves.

She takes care
of everything when he is

out of town.
Did you notice anything unusual

around the property last night?

No. But I am the sort
of person who believes

that what other folks do
is their business.

Oh, hey!

That's Jessica Flint.

She's the biggest gossip
in Uptown.

You would think that between

her husband having an affair

and her gambling issues,
Jessica would be more discreet.

No. I work at Harrah's--
I deal blackjack--

I see that woman
there all the time.

So much for minding
your own business.

We're gonna
get our kits.

But where the house
is concerned...
Mm-hmm.

you saw nothing unusual
in the last 24 hours?

Could a car
be considered unusual?

Dark color, maybe black,
maybe blue.

It had some kind of medallion
on the hood.

I don't know much about cars,
other than Marty DuChance

on Maringy has one that feels
like a midlife crisis.

Ma'am...
Mm-hmm.

here is my card.
Okay.

Call me
if you remember anything else.

You wouldn't happen
to be single, would you?

LASALLE: Pride, I need you
to come take a look at this.

Yeah.

You know where I live.

Looks like blood.

Not likely barbecue sauce.

What is that?

A rag?

It's a piece
of glove.

Piece of a black glove.

I know that look.

What if Reed drowned here?

He's a Marine.

My guess is the killer...

was able to...
surprise him somehow.

Driveway.

Bad guy standing here,
Reed comes home.

Through the gate.

Surprises him.
A struggle occurs.

And then he gets driven

right into the fountain.

Hits his head.

He's half in,
half out of the water.

Feet above his head.

Bad guy's wearing black gloves.

Hand over Reed's mouth,

leaves fibers as trace evidence.

We have waterboarding without
actually being waterboarded.

BRODY: About Reed's wife,
found a bunch of pictures

of Marilyn with Mr. Fancy Pants.

Is that...

PRIDE:
Oliver Huntington.

Who's he?
Well, you kind of nailed it

with "Mr. Fancy Pants."
Huntingtons are one

of the most influential families
in New Orleans.

What's his relationship
to Marilyn?

Hmm.

Kin.

That's his
little sister.

All right,
get some blood samples--

and Christopher, I want you
to canvass the neighborhood,

see if there are
any surveillance cameras

that might've caught
a blue or black sedan

with a medallion
on the hood.

Brody, get your
Sunday shoes on.

You're about to get introduced
to New Orleans aristocracy.

BRODY: We're concerned
about your sister.

Marilyn? Why?

Have you talked to her recently?

Uh, it's been...

at least a week.

She's at a yoga
retreat in Santa Fe.

It's up in
the mountains.

Bad reception. It's impossible
to get ahold of her,

which is probably the point.

Can we get the name
of where she's staying, Oliver?

Sure. She sent it to me in a...
in an e-mail. Please.

Come on in.

After her last birthday,
Marilyn decided to... (chuckles)

"get healthy."
She's always been... sickly.

She, uh... (chuckles)

she got our father's
genetic flaws

and our mother's
crazy allergies.

She changed
her whole diet and, uh,

started seeing
this personal trainer.

Is it possible that...

William's death h-had
something to do with his work?

We haven't determined that yet.

That's... that's awful.

That's just...

Marilyn...

gave up everything for William.

My parents weren't exactly
thrilled with the idea of...

Marilyn marrying a military man.

In my family,

you married for power or status.

So what happened?

Love won.

I'm sorry,
I-I can't find this e-mail.

We'd appreciate
if you'd keep looking.

And let us know
as soon as you hear from her.

Of course.

You never played
mailbox baseball?

I grew up in the city.

The only mailbox was
in the lobby of our building.

That would've been awkward.

That said, I did flourish
at the art of stickball.

The math is fascinating.
A spherical orb hurls

towards you at
75 miles per hour.

You have 0.8 seconds to decide
on a course of action

and even less time to execute
said course of action.

In the end, they called me
"the Sultan of Du-bat."

"Du-Bat, Dubai"--
it's a "du-pun."

It's a dud, that's what it is.

PRIDE:
Tell me things.

LASALLE:
Good news.

We got something.
For once,

the video
is crystal clear.

Which never happens, ever.

Usually, it's, "Oh, hey,
look, there's Bigfoot.

Quick, grab the worst camera
money can buy."

Got surveillance
from three different houses

in Reed's neighborhood...
neighbor down the street

pointed a security camera
to the mailbox.

And looky here,
the car

Helaine was talking about.

Oliver Huntington.

Why didn't he tell us
he was at the house?

Come on.

We need to chat.

Okay.

I'll, uh... I'll re-park.

He's not going to...

Park. No, he's not.

PRIDE: He's going back in
the driveway; I'm gonna follow.

You go around the corner
and cut him off, Chris.

LASALLE:
I'm on it, King.

(engines revving,
tires screeching)

LASALLE:
I got him.

I'll stick with him.

PRIDE:
I'll head up Camp.

He's turning off

Magazine onto 4th.

PRIDE: I got him!
(tires screeching)

(sirens approaching)

Hands on the steering wheel!

Please, please,
you can't be here.
Get out of the car.

Get out of the car.
I can't be seen with you!
Please!

I don't know.
I swear.
Then why were you running, huh?

And why didn't you mention
you went to her home yesterday?

Please go away.
They're watching.

Who?
Who's watching?

Marilyn's been kidnapped.

They said they'd hurt her
if I talked to the police.

That's why I lied.

I have 24 hours to
pay them $3 million,

or they're gonna kill her.

Oliver, I'm...

I'm in trouble.

They've killed William.

Oliver, please, just...

pay them and they say
they'll let me go.

I know that things have not been
the best between us,

but, Oliver, please, just give
them whatever they want

so they don't kill me.

That's a first for me.

So her brother Oliver
got a text message

with a video
attached?

You can do pretty much anything
on the Internet these days.

We'll trace the text, but my
guess is it's from a burn phone.

All right.

We got 22 hours.

Broaden the search.

Reach out to local PDs,
sheriff departments--

their jurisdiction,
but we got a dog in this fight.

And we need to clone
Oliver's phone before he leaves,

so any new texts or calls

from the kidnapper come in to us
at the same time.

Look at this.

See that mark on her cheek?

Is that a bruise?

She may have been hit.

All right, ask Sebastian to go
over the video pixel by pixel.

Look for... anything
that might give us a clue

where she's at. Audio, too.

Might hear something.
Now that we know
the murder

is part of a kidnapping,
maybe we should circle back

around Reed's neighborhood,
see if we can get

who was coming and
going, who had access.

Go. Now. Learn things.

Press is gonna eat this up.

High profile,
high society victim.

Get ahold of
Fornell in DC.

Tell him if he'll allow us
to borrow his FBI expertise,

I got a muffuletta with his
name on it waiting for him.

(sighs)

I have to pay them, right?

I mean, they're dangerous.

They killed my brother-in-law.

We're bringing
in the FBI.

They'll help us decide
the best course of action.

But once you hand
over the money,

you've given away the only
leverage that you have.

I need to see her again.

I'm gonna pay the ransom.
I j...

I just...

I'll pay them

and they'll let Marilyn go.
All right, just...

hold on, hold on.

Who's handling the money
for you?

Bernard Lanier,

the attorney who administers
my family trust. Why?

Be all right if I talked to him?

If you think that would help.

LANIER:
I hope this doesn't sound,

um, inappropriate, but...

are you sure this kidnapping
is legitimate?

The Huntington trust
was set up

so Oliver would only get
payments every five years,

rather than all the money
at once.

And, uh, over the years,
Oliver's come to me with many...

mmm, interesting stories,

trying to get early access
to the funds.

We've got William Reed's body
in the morgue, Mr. Lanier.

I can assure you he's not
a figment of our imagination.

Marilyn's husband

is dead?

I'm sorry. I-I didn't know.

LASALLE:
We appreciate you talking
to us again.

We're looking
for any info you have

on who might have had access
to the house.

You see anybody
you don't trust?

Well, the gardener comes weekly,
pest control is monthly.

And they like bottled water,
so that gets delivered

the third Tuesday of the month.

Oh!

There is a new trainer.

Rance, which I don't think
is a name.

It's more like a salad dressing.

If anything happened,

he'd be the first person
I'd call.

Why is that?
He just acts peculiar
around Marilyn.

You know, stalker potential.

How often is Rance in?

Twice a week, 4:00 p.m.,
sometimes on the weekends,

and sometimes... after hours.

Sebastian?

Yeah, right here.
Anything on the body?

Hmm. I was hoping
I'd find something on the victim

that could benefit Pride
in identifying the kidnappers.

Unfortunately,
I'm coming up empty-handed .

I'm not. Check this out.

I'm using a new ultra-high
resolution scanner

to go through this footage
with a fine-tooth comb.

Do you know what that is?

Peeling paint.
Oh.

A layer of yellow
under light blue,

primed by an old base coat
of leaded eggshell.

Oh, and that bruise
on her face--

it's actually a hive.

Apparently, she's got a
laundry list of allergies.

I've requested a copy
of her medical records.

Her hive, or urticaria,
appears to be

in the early stages due
to the absence of plaques.

See what happens is, when,
uh, blood plasma leaks out

of the small blood vessels,
in response

to histamine,
what happens is...

Thank you, Sebastian, but I'm
tight with all the histamines.

Tell me,

could I use this machine
on Chief Warrant Officer Reed?

Pan and scan the dead?

It's creepy, but cool.

Bring that gizmo
into the other room.

Awesome. His follicles
will be colossal.

It'll be like human
cave spelunking.

Dinner at August and Cochon.

Don't forget chicken
from Willie Mae's.

Let it be known that you are
not a complicated man, Tobias.

I always think better
when my stomach's full.

Thank you for coming.
Where are we on the clock?

A little over seven
and a half hours to go.

Senior FBI Agent Tobias Fornell,
Special Agent Meredith Brody.

Of course you
know Lasalle.

Christopher.
Agent Fornell.

Nice to finally
meet you in person.

I've heard good
things about you.

Yeah, we've all heard
good things about her.

You need to
stop right now.

Any update on
the personal trainer?

LASALLE:
Yeah, we tracked down

his cell phone record.

He calls Marilyn
three times a day.

Taking into account
that he is a trainer,

slash nutritionist,
slash life coach,

that's a lot.
And look at this.

PRIDE:
Rance declared

bankruptcy a month ago.

Money must be tight.

Who hires a personal trainer
in New Orleans?

All you people do
around here is sweat.

Sounds like he's
got a motive.

Sounds like a reason
to pick him up.

Look, I don't have
to tell you guys anything.

It's called
"trainer-client privilege."

Really? I never
heard of that.

Sorry. I-I didn't have time
for lunch today.

(sighs)

What's with the cupcake?

Brody found
a couple of videos

on Rance's YouTube channel.

Apparently, he used
to have a weight problem,

and cupcakes were
his kryptonite.

Ooh.
(phone ringing)

Psychological torture. Fun.

Look, I've told you
all the places I've been.

I have a schedule.
It's the same thing every day.

So...

your business hit a bit
of a rough patch, right?

Which is why
you're declaring bankruptcy?

I overextended, that's all.

So, you've taken
on a very specific clientele.

You become their confidant,
they trust you.

You have sex with them,
break up their marriages,

and then ask for their money.

My job is to make them feel
better about themselves.

Marilyn wasn't interested.

Marilyn loved her husband.

And that made you mad.

(scoffs)

And you're so desperate,
right now, for money.

You are dead wrong!

Marilyn's husband
is the one who's dead.

Sit!

RANCE:
Lady,

I swear to you,

I can't help you.

I wish to God I could.

It's not him.

Agreed.

Linguistic analysis
of the ransom text indicates

that the kidnapper was likely
a well-educated man

raised in the South, meticulous,

patient...
Which is not Rance.

Text also contains
sociolinguistic clues,

which indicate
that the writer is Caucasian,

has more
than a six-figure income.

All this from 36 words?

Well, 99% of American English
is pretty much used the same.

It's the remaining one percent

that contains the variables used
in linguistic profiling.

LASALLE:
Geolocators on Rance's cell

validate his story.

He wasn't
anywhere near her house.

NOPD's running down

pest control
and the gardener.

Ransom text was
from a burner phone.

It was only turned
on long enough

to ping one tower near Canal.

Kidnapper's not making mistakes.

And time is running out.

(phone beeping)

Loretta.

(door opens)

Need some good news, Loretta.

Using Sebastian's scanner,

I took extra care
in studying Reed's dermis.

Around the cuticles,
I found something growing.

That sounds unappealing.

Aquatic fungi.

It's from sweet
bay magnolias.

Unusual to the region,

not evident
where the body was found,

but, according to a dear friend
who's a botanist

at the National Park Service,
not impossible.

I took the fungi
information,

together with the
satellite imagery.

Was able to create a map

narrowing Chief
Warrant Officer's

entry site into the river
to an area of about

a thousand yards.

E-mailed it to you and cc'd

Lasalle and Brody.

Loretta, you
are the best.

Ooh, and so it is written.

BRODY:
It's fall.

Why is it so hot?

Is the weather making you
homesick for the Great Lakes?

In the Midwest,
we have winters.

Ever get a taste of one?

In New Orleans Vice, I learned
to shovel with the best of' em.

I ain't shoveling snow, too.

Mexico.

Logan told you about our
vacation to Cancun, didn't he?

Look, if I hadn't have eaten the
tequila worm, I would have...

LASALLE:
Heads up.

If Doc Wade's right,
and Reed was nearby,

it's possible the folks
in that house saw something.

All right, let's go.

MAN: Guess you missed the
"no trespassing" signs.

Hands up! Turn around!

We're federal agents.

I'm gonna reach
into my front pocket

and pull out an I.D.

So you can do what, show me some
phony badge you bought on eBay?

The badges are real.
So are the guns we're carrying.

Don't get all bowed up.
MAN:
Bowed up?

Where are you from?
'Bama.

That explains why you walked
past my signs.

Couldn't read 'em.

LASALLE:
All right, how about this?

You reach into my front pocket
and pull out my I.D.

That way you know I'm not
pulling any tricks on you.

How do you feel
about Alabama now?

"Albert Fontenot."

I know my rights!
You don't have a warrant!

Sorry, "koonyon," the whole
rights thing went out the window

once you pulled a gun.

House is remote.
Good hiding place.

I've got nothing to hide.

(inhales)

Man's got hooch breath.

Where is it, brother?

Where is what?

No wonder
you don't like visitors.

You can take a case,
if you'd like.

It's a smooth,
clear IPA

with faint citrus, honey flavor
notes and a dry finish.

Don't dress it up.

It's still moonshine.
It's my passion.

You pay taxes on your passion?

Ask my accountant.

How long you lived
in this house?

I rented the place
six months ago.

What the hell is going on here?

No sign of Marilyn here.

House is clean.

I did find something
by the river, though.

Don't you go anywhere.

Oh, yeah, sure.
D-Don't mind me.

I'm totally comfortable here.

LASALLE:
Heel marks are dug in.

Someone was dragged
into the water.

Look.

Color is consistent
with Reed's uniform.

I think we found
our point of entry.

Well, if we did,
we didn't just stumble upon it.

You don't just dump a body here
by chance.

Whoever did this knows the area.

I wonder who owns the property.

Let's find out.

Here's the information
on that property.

Oliver financed it through
the trust, purchased a year ago,

recently rented
to the moonshiner.

Do you have any news
about my sister?

Not yet, but we have
some evidence

that might help.
We need you to come down

and take a look at it.
Okay.

OLIVER: I don't care
what the deed says! I-I-I...

I don't know a thing about it!

Your name is right here.

For God's sake's,
why are you interrogating me?

You should be out
looking for my sister.

BRODY: How's your cash flow
these days, Mr. Huntington?

FORNELL: You went to
your attorney and asked him

to accelerate your next
trust payment.

He said no. Maybe you
went looking for another way.

You're suggesting since
I'm not good at budgeting...

I-I killed my brother-in-law
and I kidnapped my sister.

(phone rings)

(phone beeping)

New deadline.

60 minutes left.

We're wasting time. Please.

Be a neat trick to text himself
when he was with us.

And he didn't know
he was gonna be with us.

(taps glass)
BRODY:
Hold on. We'll be back.

Who brokered

Oliver's purchase
of the house and property?

Well-educated man, grew up

in the South, meticulous,
patient, six-figure income.

Bet it was...
Bernard Lanier.

BRODY:
So this is the land contract

for the property rented
by Mr. Mensa Moonshiner.

The property
Oliver claims not

to know anything about?

Signature on the top
is supposed to be Oliver's,

on the bottom,
the lawyer's.

So what am I
looking for here,

besides some
char-grilled oysters?

Look at the "n"
in Bernard and the "n"

in Huntington.

They are identical.

You're damn right
they are.

Stay in your office,
please, sir.

NCIS, Mr. Lanier.

NCIS! Open up!

(gunshot)

(people screaming,
murmuring in distance)

Lanier always had
access to the accounts,

but with the
kidnapping,

he could empty them

and it wouldn't be suspicious.

Huntington's money is gone
as of 30 seconds ago.

And now, the only one who can
lead us to Marilyn...

is dead.

Let us know if you
find anything, Sheriff.

(Sheriff speaks indistinctly
over phone)

Come on, now,
we got a woman tied up,

God knows where.

No idea if she's got food

or water or even air--
where we at?

NOPD came up empty at both
Lanier's house and office.

Whatever he knew, he took
to the grave with him.

Lanier's cell phone
activity coming in hot.

BRODY:
Link just showed up.

Nothing worth
mentioning.

How about the GPS on his car?

Same as his phone--

nothing.

Pull up the list of all the
properties that Lanier bought

for Huntington
and make me a map.

I got Lanier and Huntington's
properties

showing up on satellite imagery.

Brody, help analyze these.

We tracked the money--
all over the globe.

It's still bouncing around.
I figured.

He knew we would
try and track the ransom.

Made it impossible
for us to follow.

Worth a shot.

(phone beeping)

Sebastian.

Talk to me, Sebastian.

I don't know if this helps,
but the audio analysis

on the ransom video
picked up sprinklers.

That's it?

Well, they're a particular

sprinkler, more like

a mister that's used
at plant nurseries.

Or a greenhouse.

Thanks, Sebastian.
One of his properties

has several greenhouses.

One of Marilyn's allergies
was flowers, right?

And dander from three
different flowers--

daisies, orchids and sunflowers.

Lanier had orchids
in his office.

Get the address
for that greenhouse.

You sure that's it?

No time for sure anymore.

She's gotta be
here somewhere.

Hundred-meter perimeter search.

All of it. Go.

(muffled screaming, sobbing)

(indistinct
police radio chatter)

Uh, I got you
some, uh...

Thank you.

Yeah.

He was, um...

he was so brave, Oliver.

William, he, um...

he fought really hard.

How is it that he could
survive two tours at war

only to die over...

what, money?

I'm sorry.

Come here.

FORNELL:
Okay to start talking
about eating again?

I believe so.
Where do you want to start?

Well, we start
at the top

of my demand list,
then we work

our way down.
You're gonna cost me
a fortune, aren't you?

Too bad Lanier didn't
transfer you all that money.

(short chuckle)

What is it, Dwayne?

If you're gonna
kill yourself...

why bother
transferring the money?

Need a hand with
your luggage?

Special Agent Pride.

Are you here
for the fishing?

No, I am not.

Nobody was supposed to be hurt.

But William
came home early?

It wasn't my idea.

It was Bernard's.

He had the gambling problem.

And you worked
in the casino.

(sighs)

You have to
understand, Bernard--

he fell for me hard.

He suggested
the kidnapping, he did all

of the planning--
if anything,

I'm also a victim.

A victim with
a couple million dollars.

Waiting.

Where?

Costa Rica? Bermuda?

I'm guessing that bandage
is from travel vaccines.

You know...

I don't need all the money.

Maybe just half.

You don't need any of it
where you're going.

All right...

Lasalle, I'm done
with this game.

You're gonna tell me the story

and you're gonna tell me now.

Okay.

Logan didn't tell me anything.

I made it all up.

For an interrogator,
you got got.

Aw, come on.
I feel bad,

having all this
fresh intel.

I should offer you something.

Really? Like what?

Okay, so...

I dated this girl in college

and she had a weird thing
for men who wore skirts.

Really?
Yeah.

I-I put on this miniskirt...
Okay!

Okay, you can just
stop right here.

Well, I want to make this right.

I... I'm sure you do.

And I just want to remind you

that one of the tools
of a great interrogator

is to make your subject feel

like he's in control,

when really, you are.

Guess who I had breakfast with

right before you told me you
knew this great secret about me?

Logan?

And guess who told me

he ran into you the night before

and didn't say squat?

Logan again?

And guess whose stories
all that intel

you thought you got
over the past few days

was what falls out
of the backside of a bull.

Ex-vice guy, you got got.

This ain't over.

Winner, winner,
chicken dinner.

Hah!

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