All language subtitles for Elementary - 4x09 - Murder Ex Machina.720p HDTV.x264-DIMENSION.en

♪

Sherlock!

That sounded like the first volley
of a recrimination.

Do you care to explain this?

Clyde is a Horsfield's tortoise

and needs to hibernate
in the winter.

Right, but you normally let him
dig a burrow in the backyard.

Given the erratic nature of
New York's recent winters,

he needs a more controlled
environment for his winter nap.

The refrigerator
is ideal, maintaining

a constant temperature of
four degrees centigrade.

I see you're planning a
movie night in my absence.

Yep. Godfather I and II.

You know, it's not too late to
cast about your social network

for a companion for the evening.
Either in or out.

It's been
a long time

since you've enjoyed
any intimate contact.

I'm fine.

Have fun with Athena
and Minerva.

Yeah, it's impossible not to.

Sleep tight.

Good evening.

Sherlock's not here.

Actually, I've come to see you.

Come in.

I won't be long.

I wanted to extend
an invitation.

Well, apparently you're
something of a gourmand

when it comes
to the more adventurous side

of modern cuisine.

Sure.

Well, I've been invited
to a restaurant opening

tomorrow night,
and the chef's a rising star.

And in my experience,

these meals are best enjoyed
across the table

from someone
who appreciates them.

I thought
you might like to join me.

Just me?

Sherlock is welcome to join,

but it's hard to imagine him
at such an event.

To him,
food is mere fuel.

And he was never comfortable
in the crowd.

Shall we say...

8:00?

The Bentley, please.

Yes, sir.

Right away, sir.

♪ Elementary 4x09 ♪
Murder Ex Machina
Original Air Date on January 21, 2016

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man

♪ ♪

I didn't see much.

Shots rang out,
I dove for cover.

I saw a gray car
driving away fast.

Gray car. Anything else?

No. I-I got to go.
Can I... can I go?

What's the best way to reach you
in case we have more questions?

This is my office.

All right. We'll be in touch.

What do we got?

Drive-by. Sort of.

This guy was the target. After
the shooter sprayed the area,

he got out of the car
and pumped another burst

into his chest.

Big guy was
his bodyguard.

Valet was just in the
wrong place at the wrong time.

MLI found a Russian passport

identifying him
as Maxim Zolotov, a resident

of Saint Petersburg.

His shoes were alligator,
custom-made.

Suit-- custom, too.

So not just a Russian.
A very rich Russian.

Where's Sherlock?

He was out with some friends.

I sent a radio car to get him.

Since when does he have friends?

These are
more like exercise partners.

I'll see
how close he is.

Watson?

Hey.

Where are you?
Crime scene.

I'm here. I don't see you.

I'm at the second crime scene.

I found your shooters.

As luck would have it,

both been murdered.

Officer Walker and I
were moments from joining you

when news of this crashed
blue sedan came over the radio.

I recalled the shooters
at the strip club escaped

in a gray sedan,
so I asked him to pull over.

Why? You just said
the colors don't match.

I happen to know the area
where the shooting took place

is illuminated by high-pressure
sodium street lamps.

It casts a yellow glow
over its environs.

This locale has LED lights,
which are blue/white in color.

This car looks gray

in sodium light, blue under LED.

Further inspection revealed
that the passenger

smells of cordite

and there is a firearm
entangled in the wreckage.

So these are our guys.

You said they were murdered, but
it looks like they lost control

of their car and crashed.

I think that's the impression
someone wants to convey.

Note the position
of the driver's right foot.

It appears he was attempting
to depress the brake pedal,

but there are no skid marks
on the roadway above.

There are also indications
he was attempting,

struggling to pull the wheel
to the exact

opposite direction
of its fatal final turn.

None of the air bags
have been deployed.

A crash like this, they
all should've inflated.

Unless someone overrode
the controls of the vehicle.

You saying you think someone
hacked it and made it crash?

Well, we've all seen the
videos on the Internet.

I mean, new cars like this
are vulnerable to hacking.

Analysis
of the car's onboard computer

will confirm whether I'm right.

But, yeah, I believe
someone hired these two

to carry out the shooting
outside the club,

then took control
of this vehicle

and killed them
in a staged accident

to cover his or her tracks.

So while the triggermen
are dead...

The real killer
is still at large.

So this is the code
the NYPD techs

found on the car's computer?

It is.
That's some sweet compression.

It's definitely not native
to the car's computer.

Someone must've overwritten
the factory software.

Your task
is to identify the author.

So the usual deal?

The usual.

You're paying him?

Of course.

I thought all your helpers
worked for free.

No one is compensated in cash.
In Mason's case,

I allow him to sniff your hair
while you're sleeping.

He's joking.

Tell her you're joking.

Mason craves certain
limited edition action figures,

and I have a friend
who can secure

even the rarest collectible.

I see our two assassins'
fingerprints

were not
in the federal database.

No. The captain's got a team
looking into it.

But, on the bright side,

I found plenty
of information on Zolotov.

Turns out he's not
just some random rich guy.

He was one of the richest men
in the world.

Ranked somewhere
in the mid-300s.

One of Russia's
so-called oligarchs.

What's an oligarch?
In Russia's case,

part of an inner circle that
practically owns the country.

So Zolotov made his
money in shipping.

He was a close personal friend
of the Russian president.

But according to his critics,
not a nice man.

The oligarchs
are frequently referred to

as little more than
billionaire thugs.

Last year, a Polish paper
did a profile on him.

They said that he was a
ruthless negotiator and implied

that he had assassins
on retainer.

So maybe one of the rival
oligarchs had him killed.

I would've thought, if a
Russian wanted him dead,

they would do it in Russia,

where the authorities can be
relied upon to turn a blind eye.

Perhaps he came to New York
on business, it went poorly,

and someone decided to do unto
him before he did unto them.

So why do you care?

I'm just saying.

I mean, he was a bad guy.

Now he's dead.

We should go see a movie
or something.

The people who killed him
also killed his bodyguard

and the valet who
was getting his car.

And even if there were
no innocent victims,

no murder
should go unsolved,

and no murderer
should walk free.

To think otherwise is to descend
into a pit of moral relativism.

Speaking of which,

I'd like a word.

So...

what did my father want
when he came here last night?

Let me guess-- you can still
smell his cologne upstairs.

He was here precisely
three minutes, 48 seconds.

Not long enough for that
particular odor to settle.

How do you know
how long he was here?

I recently connected the
brownstone's exterior cameras

to both the doorbell
and the Internet.

Someone pushes the button,
I'm sent a live feed.

So, uh, what did he want?

Nothing.

Nothing...

He invited me to dinner.
I said yes.

You said I should reevaluate
him, form my own opinion.

I thought this would be
a good opportunity.

I-I've just got...
I have one request.

Hmm?

There are three
surviving Holmes men,

and you've sampled the
carnal wares of one.

Two would be a pattern.

This isn't a date.

You owe me one
action figure.

I'm thinking
Picard 1701,

"Tapestry" edition.
In its original packaging.

You identified the hacker
already?

I found a signature buried
in some lines of code.

The hacker's signature
is a picture of a cat?

It's not just a picture.
It's an ASCII portrait.

That means you can only
use keyboard characters

to form the image.
Letters, numbers, symbols.

And the signature is an image.

Well, that's just
how she does it.

"She"?
Mittens.

She's the lead programmer
at Pentillion Edge,

that big R & D firm
up in Chelsea.

She posts on coding boards
sometimes.

Her real name
is Fiona something,

but everybody calls her Mittens
'cause she's really into cats.

She's kind
of weird.

Weird enough to have taken
several lives last night?

She likes cats, so... sure.

Driverless cars.
Hyperloop trains.

Rockets to colonize space.

Pentillion is
certainly ambitious.

They chase "moonshots."

It's the current tech-speak
for technologies which,

if brought to fruition, could
literally change the world.

Or take us to a new one.

Hi. Phil Balsam.

VP of R & D.

Uh, sorry about the video--

it's a little
self-congratulatory.

Uh, we're here to
see Fiona Helbron,

aka Mittens.

Yes, my secretary told me--
she said you were the police.

Would you mind telling me
why you want to see Fiona?

Actually, we're here to discuss
her role in five murders.

She wrote some
software that was used

to take control of a car
last night,

that caused a fatal accident.

You're kidding.

Can you take us
to her or not?

Yes, of course.

But, uh...
but trust me,

she wouldn't hurt anybody;
she couldn't.

Well, you might be able to send
a rocket into orbit, Mr. Balsam,

but please don't presume to know
what's in your employee's heart.

You don't understand--
I... I know what's in her head.

When I say she
can't hurt anyone, I mean it.

They say autism
is a spectrum,

but it's really an array
of different conditions

all lumped together.

I prefer the term
"neuroatypical,"

because... it's
more accurate.

My brain is different
than yours.

I'm atypical-- NA.

Phil is NT--
neurotypical.

She's NT, too.

I'm not sure what you are.

Social interactions are, uh...
difficult for you, are they?

I'm better when
I write things down,

'cause I can
just fix them later.

I can make the code work.

I like it when the code works.

Do me a favor--
tell me the sky is green.

But it's not. It's blue.

To be more accurate,
it appears blue

because of diffused
sky radiation.

Yeah. But I'd like you
to tell me it's green,

by way of experiment.

No. I don't want to.

Fiona...

were you involved...

in making this car crash?

The people inside

had just committed
a murder.

The software you wrote
for Pentillion's driverless car

was found

on this car's computer.

No. No.

My code is supposed
to save lives.

Self-driving cars
are safer than normal cars,

and I wouldn't do this,
not ever.

Thank you, Fiona.

You can go back
to work now.

She's the best coder we have.

I wouldn't trade her
for anyone.

And, like I said,
she's... she's not a killer.

Her condition makes it

virtually impossible
for her to lie,

even about something

as simple as the color
of the sky.

Did anyone else

have access to her software?

A lot of people, unfortunately.

Um, everyone in this office,
our engineers,

fabrication unit.

And not to mention, um...

there was a breach.

We got hacked
a few weeks ago.

They accessed
our proprietary software,

including Fiona's code.

And I didn't think much
about it because...

to tell the truth, it happens

to tech companies more often
than we like to admit,

and usually, the people doing it
are other tech companies.

You steal from each other.

Well, it's been going on
since Steve Jobs

"borrowed" the idea
for the Mac interface

and mouse from Xerox.

This time around,
I'm pretty sure

we were hit by Tetra-Bit.

They make computer hardware.

Did you report the breach?

No. No.

Um... glass houses.

To be honest,
it was probably a reprisal.

About two months ago,
some of our people

wormed their way
into Tetra-Bit's system.

They've started getting
into robotics and automation,

and our guys were...

curious how they were doing.

So you hack them, they hack you.

It's juvenile, I know,

but it's part of the culture.

Has Pentillion
done business

with Maxim Zolotov?

No.

Perhaps he was
one of your investors.

Well, Pentillion was founded

by a group of dot-com
billionaires.

They don't need
outside investors.

All the stock is held by them

and our employees.

If it will
help protect

the company's reputation,
I'm sure they'd be happy

to give you access
to our corporate records.

E-mail. The works.

Thanks. We appreciate that.

Oh, and one more thing.

Um... you might want to talk
to Carol Finelli.

She's the CEO of Tetra-Bit.

When my guys got
into their system,

they grabbed her e-mails,
and I remember them saying

that a bunch of them
were in Russian.

On the advice of my lawyers,
I can't comment

on whether anybody from
my company hacked Pentillion.

If you want to avoid a warrant,
Ms. Finelli,

we're gonna need
more than that.

I said we'd cooperate,
and we will.

On the other matter...

I am at liberty to say

I was negotiating a deal
with Maxim Zolotov.

He was preparing
an offer to buy

and renovate the Port
of New Haven in Connecticut.

He approached Tetra-Bit
to provide

the automation
and the computerization.

The past few months, we were
hammering out the details.

When was the last time
you met with him?

Never.

We did all of our business
by e-mail and phone.

I didn't even know
he was in New York.

This deal would have been worth

billions in
gross profits

over the next ten years.

Enough to bring our entire
robotics division into profit.

And now that he's dead?

The port deal is dead, too.

Take my word--
I am the last person

who would have arranged
his murder.

Let's say we believe you.

Who stood to profit
from Tetra-Bit's loss?

I honestly
can't think of anyone.

There were no competing offers.

Without Zolotov,
the Port of New Haven just...

stays the way it is,
a minor player.

Let me rephrase that.

What if Zolotov was killed
in self-defense

from a financial point of view?

If his deal had gone through...
who had the most to lose?

If you're asking
who would have been hurt

by a massive new port
in Connecticut...

call the governor.

Because the entity
with the most to lose

would have been
the State of New York.

Miss Finelli's suggestion isn't
as ridiculous as it sounds.

You think the State
of New York took out a hit

on a Russian
oligarch?

Not the State as such, but a
great many people rely on income

from the Ports of New York
and New Jersey.

Any number of entities
would have been hurt

by Zolotov's
Connecticut project.

Port employees,
cargo handling companies.

Dock workers.

Hey, do you have
that witness information

from the crime
scene handy?

Yeah.

We got this from the
last guy we spoke to.

Harry Magarac.

He's the president

of the Port of New York's
dockworkers' union.

Pretty big coincidence,
you just happening to be

on the scene for the
assassination of the guy

who threatened the livelihood
of his union members.

And here I thought we were
having a pleasant conversation.

You accusing me of something?

Look, you have
15 known members

of the Coretto crime family
on your union rolls,

and the strip club is owned
by one of their associates.

The Mafia?

Somebody's been watching
too many movies.

You rub shoulders with mobsters.

You and your union
both have a record

for resorting to violence
to get things done.

During the strike
of 2011, you led an attack

in which dockworkers armed with
baseball bats severely damaged

a grain export facility.

You pled no contest.

Okay, you're right.

It's no coincidence
that me and Zolotov were

at the club at the same time,
but I didn't have him killed.

We were cutting a deal.

Look, that grain
terminal thing aside,

young kids today,
they don't want

to go to war
for their jobs.

Millennials, they're all,
"Live and let live."

So when I heard about
Zolotov's port project,

I contacted him to see
if we could come to terms.

What was the deal?

Zolotov guaranteed
any of my guys lost work

first crack at the new jobs
in Connecticut.

Plus he promised to make
a fat contribution

to our health and welfare fund.

In exchange for which
we use our influence

to move his port deal forward.

We were at the club to work out
the final details.

I don't suppose you can
prove any of this.

Here's an e-mail from my private
banker in the Caymans confirming

that he deposited
100 grand into my account.

Consulting fee.

That's just a down payment.
I stood to see

five times that much
once the deal was done.

Look, I might be old-school,
I know a couple of wiseguys.

I'm not stupid enough
to kill the Russian goose

that lays the golden egg.

Especially when he's standing
20 feet away from me.

There's one more thing
you should know.

Me and Zolotov never
finished our business.

His bodyguard got spooked
by one of the strippers.

Spooked by a stripper?

Something about her
bothered him.

Him and Zolotov
talked in Russian,

the two of them took off...

ran right into an ambush.

So did you believe Magarac?

Everything he told us
checked out.

Far as we could tell, he was in
the same boat as Carol Finelli.

They both lost out big
when Zolotov was killed.

What about you guys?
You said you found

the hotel where
Zolotov was staying?

We did, and they were kind
enough to grant us access

to the security camera footage
recorded during his time there.

As it turns out,

this woman visited five times
in the last four days.

Those are
armed guards.

I think she's Yakuza.

He's had too
much caffeine,

but the security would suggest
she's someone powerful.

We wondered if Zolotov
was killed over business.

This woman looks all business.

Problem is we don't
know who she is.

She never gave
her name at the hotel.

So they ask me to come over
and run her face

through my home-brew
facial recognition software.

Is anything
this kid's doing legal?

Define "legal."

What about the stripper
that Magarac mentioned,

the one that Zolotov and his
bodyguard were spooked by?

Have you identified her?

Magarac said she
was leggy and brunette,

which I got to think describes
more than a few girls

at that club.

If I had to guess,
she's an ex-girlfriend

he didn't feel like talking to,
but the timing is weird.

He spots her, leaves, and then
seconds later he's dead?

The club is my next stop
if you guys want to join.

Uh, I'll go.

Uh, I mean, if it'll help
solve a murder.

You two go.

As much as I love
strip clubs,

I have a dinner
to get ready for.

♪

♪ Hold me

♪ And never let go...

You look uncomfortable.

Not a fan of this sort
of establishment?

Guess I just know too much?

I've got a certain
appreciation for strippers.

I like watching
them work.

Well, in their own way,
they're experts

in both deduction
and human psychology.

Observe how she's evaluating
the pool of potential marks.

Which patrons will yield the
most money for the least effort?

Right, she's
selected that man,

likely because of
his wristwatch,

which denotes a certain
financial status.

Now she's got to
tailor her approach.

Does he want a damsel
in distress?

Does he want
a good-time girl?

Does he want a romantic,

lost soul?

Good-time girl.

You and I are like

well-informed spectators
at a magic show.

We know the, uh, truth
behind the illusion,

and for you,
that ruins the appeal.

But I enjoy watching an expert
practice sleight of hand,

even when I know
what's up her sleeve.

You see any sleeves
on these girls?

I just wish Magarac
had given us

a better description
of the girl he saw.

I'm gonna go badger
the manager.

If you forebear
for just a moment...

Hello.

Might I trouble you
for a private dance?

My pleasure.

Follow me.

Shan't be a moment.

So... how do you like it?

Sweet or spicy?

Or... maybe both?

That won't
be necessary.

I don't understand.

My name is Sherlock Holmes.
I'm a, um,

detective, but
what's germane

to this conversation is your
identity, your real name, yes.

Olga Berezhnaya.

And to put it bluntly,
you're a Russian spy.

This is role-play, yes?

I like it.

I'm a spy,
and you're the police.

You can drop the pretense.

I've seen your dossier
in London.

So you can just...
answer my questions,

and I won't call my friends
in American intelligence

and tell them all about you.

Promise.

You're here about Zolotov?

Mm-hmm.

You should know
he was not my assignment.

I'm supposed to be,
uh, getting friendly

with a foreign dignitary
who frequents this club.

You just stumbled
upon a Russian oligarch

in the course of your duties?

He came in with a man
named Harry Magarac.

Harry's a regular,
friend of the owners.

I recognized Zolotov,
and I thought

my superiors might want to know

what he and Harry
were discussing.

So you listened in?

It was a matter
of little consequence.

Business.

But Yuri, Zolotov's bodyguard--

he was former
Federal Protective Service.

We were in a training exercise
together five years ago.

He made me and warned Zolotov.

If Zolotov wasn't
your assignment, why did he run?

I think he didn't want
his friends in Moscow

to hear that he was working
on another deal

while he was supposed to be
on the mission for them.

He was on a mission
for the Kremlin?

From what I could gather,
he was in the U.S.

to conduct some sort of secret,
backdoor diplomacy.

I don't know the details, but
if that's what got him killed,

there will be consequences.

Mmm. I don't care
what Sherlock says.

This food is not just fuel.

Tomorrow, you'll have
to tell Sherlock what he missed.

Are you all right?
You're barely eating.

Oh, I had a late lunch.

This dish
reminds me of one

I once enjoyed
at Le Val Gielgud,

one of Mycroft's
first restaurants.

I'm quite aware
he's alive, Joan.

Also aware
that he's under

the protection
of American intelligence.

Sherlock told you.

Oh, I have my ways.

It's my understanding

that you were quite close.

For a little while.

Have you heard from him?

Not for some time, no.

But I understand
why it must be.

I respect the choice he made.

I have to admit,

I wondered if that's why
you came to New York.

He's gone, so you want to mend
your relationship with Sherlock.

There was another matter I was
hoping to discuss with you.

For some time now, I've
been banking my own blood

for emergencies,

and I found a local facility
that provides the service.

I was hoping,
given your medical background,

that I could impose upon you
to evaluate it for me.

Sure. I'd be happy to.

Oh. Shall we endeavor
another course?

Absolutely.

Hey.

You leaving?
Yeah. You should, too.

What's wrong?
Did something happen?

The search was taking forever,

so I checked my program log,
and I got back-traced.

Not only did I not find
your mystery woman,

but I got my search program
tracked back to your Wi-Fi.

Look, I'm sorry, but I'm out.
Anybody who can do that

isn't someone I want
to be messing with.

Well, what are Sherlock and I
supposed to do?

Smash your computers
with a hammer,

then take a vacation.
A long one.

Mason. Mason?

Hey.

Have you and your partner
been trying

to run down a suspect
in the Zolotov shooting?

A woman, Asian, early 40s?

We had someone running
an online search. Why?

You should get down
to the station,

because she's in my office.

I apologize
for all the cloak-and-dagger,

but under the circumstances,
it was necessary.

- My name is...
- Cindy Park.

You are the U.S.
State Department's

Undersecretary
for European Affairs.

Earlier this evening,

Detective Bell
and I learned

that Maxim Zolotov
was conducting

business on behalf
of the Russian government.

May we assume that you were
his secret negotiating partner?

Correct, on all counts.

We were trying
to hammer out an agreement

to end
the Russian/Ukrainian war.

Zolotov was representing

the ethnic Russian rebels

and the Russian government,

and the undersecretary
was negotiating

on behalf of
the Ukrainians.

So you thought his
death was related

to the peace talks,
but you couldn't say so,

because you were worried

that it might jeopardize
your diplomatic efforts.

Turns out
State has been

discreetly monitoring
our investigation.

Using the NSA to spy on us,
no doubt.

We were hoping you were right

and he was killed
due to the port deal.

Unfortunately, our
own investigation

found something
completely different.

The men who killed Zolotov.

You weren't able
to identify them, but we were.

Vasyl Melnyk
and Orest Mishchenko.

Ex-Ukrainian military.

They're suspected in a dozen
hits all over Eastern Europe.

- Ukrainians.
- The war has brought

the Ukrainian government a
massive increase in foreign aid.

It could be they don't
want that to end,

but they need to
keep up their image

as victims of
Russian aggression.

They sent
these two men

to assassinate
the Russian's peace envoy

and then killed them
to cover up their involvement?

Why would
the Ukrainian government

hire hit men whose nationality,
once determined,

would cast suspicion their way?

And-and why would they kill them
so close to the crime scene?

You're assuming the Ukrainians
are competent,

which is very much in question.

But you're right--
they might have been framed.

By whom?

The undersecretary's
not at liberty to say.

She's only told us this much

because she wants us
to drop the matter.

Due to the sensitive
diplomatic situation,

federal agents
will be taking over

the Zolotov
investigation.

We appreciate
your hard work

and your understanding,

but we'll take it from here.

Hey, is this everything?

Was that Ukrainian?

Might have been.

Did it have anything to do
with the Zolotov case?

'Cause we're supposed
to be done with that.

No, you, a policeman with orders
from above, are done with it.

Watson and I
are private citizens

and can do in our free time
as we wish.

Now, please give
our case materials

to the undersecretary
with my kindest regards.

You getting anywhere?

Ms. Park acknowledged
the possibility

the Ukrainian government
was being framed.

This suggests
a third party

who wants to keep
the war going.

Now, ask yourself, who profits
most in times of war?

Arms dealers.

Weapons are one of
the United State''

most profitable
exports.

And, indeed, American
ethnic communities

have a long tradition
of sending weapons

to their war-torn
homelands.

Let me guess-- it's happening
with Ukraine, too?

The Ukrainians have even gone
so far as to send

dedicated fund-raisers
to the United States.

I just got off the phone
with someone

who gave me a list
of American arms dealers

most active in
the Ukrainian conflict.

Just like that?

I might have posed

as a wealthy
Ukrainian-American businessman

interested in
helping the cause.

Point of fact is,
they confirmed

a list I'd already
compiled myself.

Okay. Officially,
I don't want to know about it.

Unofficially, I'm worried
about what happens

when the Feds' theory
about the Ukrainians

gets back to the Russians.

There could be reprisals,

more deaths, less peace.

So maybe you can give them
a better theory,

whether they want
to hear it or not?

Watson is, at this very moment,

having a chat with someone

with a passing familiarity
with arms dealers.

Joan?

I didn't expect to hear back

from you so quickly.

Shall I send for more food?

I'm good, thanks,
and to be honest, um,

the blood bank
isn't the only reason

I wanted to speak with you.

So, I looked into that facility
you asked about.

It's adequate,
but I think you can do better.

This company
pioneered autologous

blood banking
and can keep several pints

on hand
for up to ten years.

They also work
with local hospitals to ensure

that you'll receive
your own blood when you need it.

Impressive.

Thanks.

Of course.

And the other reason
you wanted to speak to me?

Can you tell me
which of these arms dealers

is making the most money

off the Russian/Ukrainian
conflict?

You know what they say--
war is good for business.

So you don't deny
selling weapons to both

the Ukrainians
and the Russians?

I sold weapons

to the Ukrainians,
but not the Russians.

Russians make perfectly
good ones on their own.

I sold them computer parts
and electronics.

For drones
and long-range missiles.

I don't know where they end up.

I just know
they bought a lot of them.

According to our sources,

you used to work for the CIA.

So your contacts in D.C.

could've told you
about Zolotov's mission.

You also have friends
who could've

gotten you
Pentillion's software.

Means and motive,
Mr. Soble.

Means, yes.

But you couldn't be
more wrong about motive.

Did I know Zolotov was trying
a little backdoor diplomacy?

Yeah, but I didn't kill him.

The fact is I had every reason
to hope that he'd succeed.

You just said war
was good for your business.

War's good
for selling.

Peace is where you cash in.

Especially in this situation.

See, the Russians paid me
completely in rubles.

Deposited in an account
in Moscow.

But the U.S. and the E.U. had
leveled sanctions against them

because they were messing around
in the Ukraine.

Including restricting
their exports.

So the value of the ruble
took a big hit.

So you want the war to end

so the ruble will rise enough
for you to cash in.

What about the
Ukrainians?

Surely your business
with them comprises

the lion's share
of your war profiteering.

Sure, I sold them
a lot of product.

But I haven't gotten paid.

Ukrainians are cash poor.
My friends in D.C.

encouraged me to sell weapons
to them on credit.

I haven't seen a penny yet.

War goes on much longer,

the Ukrainians are gonna
default on their debts.

I'll end up writing off

everything
I sold them as a loss.

Is that arrangement typical
for people in your line of work?

Every war is different.

That's just the way
this one broke down.

Anybody who sold to the Russians
or the Ukrainians

is in the same boat that I am.

So who stands to profit
if the war continues?

Dutch natural gas,

Azerbaijani caviar,

Polish vodka,

Norwegian lumber.

The folks who make money
are the ones

who provide
an alternative source

for the things
the Russians can't export

because of the sanctions.

I know he probably
didn't have Zolotov killed,

but still, when I think
of all the people that died

because of his weapons...

His business is vile, but
legally he's not a murderer.

And he might've just given
us the key to this case.

You're talking
about the sanctions?

It occurred to me the list
of products he gave us

were were not the only
Russian exports

being kept off the market.

I tracked down a more
comprehensive list,

and that, in turn,
has yielded a suspect.

Who?

Never mind. Sorry.

Suffice it to say,

we won't be taking any
hackable cars for a while.

Come on, I'll explain
on the subway.

Miss Helbron.

Uh, sorry to intrude.

Um... I was hoping
I might have a word.

You have good manners.

You must work hard at them.

Well, I can be
quite rude at times.

You know, when I, uh...
when I fail to make the effort.

I forget sometimes, too.

Especially when I'm working.

It's hard.

How did you find me?

Uh, well, I wanted to speak
with your privately.

I tracked down your residence.

Tried to pay you a visit there.

I don't spend
much time at home.

It's very small.

New York apartments
are very small.

Yeah, they can be

quite restrictive
in other ways, too.

Your building
doesn't allow pets, for example.

Yet, when we met
at Pentillion the other day,

you had, um...
you had cat hair on you

from at least
a dozen different sources.

You don't strike me
as the sort to break the rules.

I concluded that you interacted
with a large number of felines

somewhere other
than your apartment.

This cat cafe is nearby.

You used logic--

a series of if/then
binary decisions

that inevitably led to me.

What did you want to say?

Well, I confess
I'm here to discuss

the uncomfortable subject
of the murders

which occurred the other day.

More specifically,
I'd like you to help me

apprehend
the person responsible.

Come on.

Damn it.

Mr. Balsam.

What is this?

Fiona Helbron
is using her software to...

control your car.

Don't worry, she's
a very safe driver.

Much safer than you were
when you crashed a vehicle

containing your hit men.

Wha...?

What are you talking about?

Rocket engines.

Specifically the ones being
developed by Pentillion Edge.

You deferred a large
portion of your salary

for shares
in the endeavor.

If they're a success,

you stand to make
hundreds of millions.

So what?

So that proved to be

a poor decision
on your part.

Your engines
are behind schedule.

They're not yet ready to compete
with the industry standard,

the Russian-made RD180.

An engine which powers every
heavy-lift rocket in the world.

Even those used by NASA
and the U.S. military.

Luckily for you,
the RD180 is off the market

'cause of the sanctions
against Russia.

And if they last long enough,

the West's stockpile
is gonna run out

just as your engines
hit the market.

Unless the war ends

before you're ready.

Then the Russian engines
will return

and Pentillion's efforts
will fail.

Your shares
will be worthless.

I'm not sure
how you found out

about Zolotov's
peace mission,

but once you thought

it would derail
your ambitions,

you arranged
to have him murdered.

Try and keep the war going.

You can't prove any of that.

But I can.

The phone in your hand
contains an app

that Fiona created
to control cars

loaded with her software.

You just tried to use it
to control your car.

But she stopped you.

Once she has your phone,

she will retrieve
the app's data

and show that you used it
to send two men to their deaths.

Now, it's too late
to, uh, dispose

of the murder weapon,
I'm afraid.

All right... all right.

Zolotov was scum.

He used intimidation

and assassination
to build his empire.

And the-the Ukrainians,
they were,

they were professional
assassins.

So... so what if I
killed three bad men?

It was for the greater good.

Pentillion's rocket engines,
they're the first step

towards colonizing
the Moon and Mars.

You hear that, Fiona?

Yes, every word.

Yeah.

Fiona took the liberty

of activating your phone

so she could listen
to our conversation.

She's with the NYPD
and the FBI.

They await our arrival,
and, um,

well, they're no doubt gonna
appreciate your confession.

Hi.

What's this?

It's what I worked on today

while you wrapped up
the Zolotov case.

Murder in Paris.

From almost two years ago.

French businesswoman

Sabine Raoult
was gunned down in the street.

The crime was never solved.

The French police
found five shell casings

but only three bullets.

One in Sabine,
two in the wall behind her.

And what exactly
piqued your interest

in a case two years old
and almost 4,000 miles away?

Mason left his
facial recognition

software on our computers.

I used it to search for pictures
of your father online.

There are almost
no images of him.

But I did find these.

He knew the victim.

I get the impression
they were seeing each other

right up until her death.

You think he had
this woman killed?

No.

So, why did you search
for these pictures?

I noticed something odd
about your father at dinner.

And then again at his office.

The way he eats.

Small, infrequent bites,
thoroughly chewed.

Like someone who's had
gastric banding,

even though he's
never been obese.

I also noticed

he takes a lot of vitamins,

including high doses of B12,

which is usually absorbed
through the stomach lining.

You think he's missing
part of his stomach?

At first,
I thought it was cancer.

That's why I was looking
for pictures of him.

To see if he'd ever
shown signs

of having been through chemo
or radiation therapy.

Instead, I found Sabine Raoult.

You think the two bullets
missing from the crime scene

ended up in my father?

They were hollow points.

One of those could easily
destroy a person's stomach.

It's possible he was
caught in the cross fire

when Sabina was gunned down.

Just like that valet
at the strip club.

But you're not convinced.

At dinner, he asked me
to help him find a place

to bank his own blood
in case of emergency.

Which suggests
another explanation.

I think Sabine
was collateral damage.

Morland was the target.

Someone tried
to kill your father.

And he's worried
they're gonna try again.

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man