All language subtitles for Elementary - The Red Team

It's cleanliness
everywhere I look.

It's very
disorientating.

Don't worry, I did not
touch your wall of crazy.

The idea that Irene was murdered

by a shadowy kingpin that no
one's ever seen or heard of

sounded crazy
to me, too.

But there may be
a pattern here.

A trail of bread crumbs that
leads to a great criminal mind.

And how is
Napoleon Bonaparte involved?

By my fifth night without
sleep, I may have been reaching.

What time is it?

Uh, it's 9:30.

Wednesday.

You slept for
two days straight.

That's why I'm so hungry.

I'm supposed to go out
for a little while,

but if you're still
feeling obsessed, I can stay.

No, I'm fine.

I've been
neglecting my hobby.

I'm going to visit
Swirl-Theory.com

and discuss
conspiracy theories.

Your hobby is
conspiracy theories?

No, of course not.

They're pure sophistry.

Large groups of people
cannot keep secrets.

My hobby is
conspiracy theorists.

I adore them.

As one would
a barmy uncle.

Or a pet that can't stop
walking into walls.

Have you ever heard anyone say
the CIA invented crack cocaine?

I have.

I started that.

That's ridiculous.

Mm.

Today, I plan to get
in touch with Zapruder--

that's the moderator's
nom de plume--

and share with him the results
of a secret government study,

which concludes that
rising ocean waters

will soon make a new coastline
in the Appalachian foothills.

Plans are afoot to move
the nation's capital to Omaha,

and a cadre of
elite billionaires

is buying up soon-to-be
beachfront property.

Okay, well, good
luck with that.

Mm. Enjoy your errands.

Sherlock has made progress,

but he's fragile.

Sebastian Moran upset
the balance that we found.

He's finally ready to deal
with his feelings about Irene.

He's only loved one person
in his life,

as far as I can tell,
and she was murdered.

Your contract to work as
Sherlock's sober companion

expired a week ago.

And if Sherlock
finds out,

it could destroy the
trust you've built.

Have you considered
that you yourself

could be the catalyst
for a relapse?

It's not forever.

It may not be forever,
but it does sound indefinite.

In the meantime,
you're not being paid.

I'm not living
paycheck to paycheck.

Nor are you obligated

to spend your savings
on behalf of someone

who's no longer your client.

I should really check to see
if everything's okay.

This thing with-with Sherlock,

there are steps.

Captain Gregson
suspended him from the NYPD.

That relationship
stabilizes him.

I just need to reopen that line
of communication between them.

Watson.

You want to tell me
whose house this is?

Zapruder.

Oh. Is that the guy you were
talking about this morning?

The conspiracy theorist.

His real name is
Len Pontecorvo.

He didn't rise to
my bait earlier.

Most unlike the man.

I e-mailed several of his
colleagues in Swirl Theory.

Turns out, no one has heard
from him since Sunday.

Oh, so you decided to
break into his house?

Well, his compatriots
feared the worst:

black-bagged
by the KGB,

taken to a secret
NASA prison.

Please don't tell
me you agree.

Of course not.
NASA doesn't maintain prisons.

Everyone knows that.

But I did think he may have had
a heart attack or an accident.

Which is why I let myself in
when he didn't answer his door.

This thing we're doing right
now, it's called trespassing.

Well, if you're worried
about Mr. Pontecorvo

pressing charges,
you shouldn't be.

He's got much larger
problems than us.

♪ Elementary 1x13 ♪
The Red Team
Original Air Date on January 31, 2013

♪

The department's
taking a break from you.

And you, couldn't take him
to the movies or something?

I tried.

Would you have preferred we left
Mr. Pontecorvo to rot?

I would've preferred
you laid low for a while,

instead of digging up some
autoerotic strangulation case.

Auto? You think he
did this to himself?

You think he didn't?
Well, it's hard to tell

without removing
the belt to examine

the ligature marks
on his neck.

But did notice
the belt itself is a 38.

Rather large for a man
of such narrow proportions,

don't you think?
Could've lost weight.

Or he could've been strangled
by a much larger man

and then hung on the machine
like a Christmas ornament.

Also, notice the index finger
on his right hand.

It appears to be fractured,
just above the finger nail.

Hard to auto-eroticize anything
with a broken bone

in your business hand, no?

I'll tell the M.E.
to take a close look

at the victim's neck and finger.

Not necessary.
I already texted him.

You text him?

Seems like you think you're
a consultant on this case.

You're not.

Which is why I'm leaving.

Right after Watson and I
examine the rest of the house.

Let you know
if we learn anything.

Been through the man's things.

So far, none of
the conventional ways

of getting oneself killed apply.

Pontecorvo didn't owe
anyone money,

he wasn't sleeping with
anyone's wife,

wasn't sleeping with anyone.

Uh, don't you
think the police

are going to be interested
in looking at that?

The police are interested in
finding the killer,

which means they want any and
all evidence in my possession.

Whether they admit it or not.

Well, if all Pontecorvo did
was fill these binders,

maybe we should
look through them, too.

Hmm.

This one says that
North Korea is actually

the world's largest manufacturer
of high school textbooks.

The Supreme Court has been
infiltrated by Scientologists.

It's one of mine.

Yes, we may as well
bring them with us.

Worth a laugh, anyway.

Although, I promise you,
there is a conventional

explanation for Len
Pontecorvo's murder.

Information wants
to get out, Watson.

Which is why...

There is no such thing
as conspiracies.

We've covered this.

Hello, Clyde.

Oh, are you
taking Clyde?

He will starve if we
leave him here.

Oh, I didn't know
you liked tortoises.

I love them.

They make an absolutely
delicious soup stock.

What is that?

It appears to be
a listening device.

Someone was bugging
the conspiracy nut.

You brought that
all the way over here

just to smash
it to pieces?

I turned it off.
I can't have it in the house.

Don't know who's on
the other end of that thing.

I've confirmed from
three different sources,

this particular
surveillance device

is not commercially
available.

You cannot buy it
if you are a civilian.

So, what are you saying,

the government was
bugging Len Pontecorvo?

I thought there was
no such thing as conspiracies?

Consistency is the hobgoblin
of little minds, Watson.

The fact of
the matter is,

there was a bug in
Len Pontecorvo's home.

One of my contacts
in London

just helped me find
spyware on his laptop.

Someone was monitoring
his every move.

Why?

Was he on to something?

Len Pontecorvo, rest his soul,

was one of the laziest thinkers
I've ever come across.

His ideas are insane.

Most of them, that is.

There's one that isn't
immediately laughable.

I hadn't read about it
until a short while ago.

"The Red Team."

Yes.

The title refers
to war games.

Every year,

the Army War College
stages a series of them.

Players consist of
military personnel

and civilian experts.

Those representing
the United States and its allies

comprise the Blue Team.

The Red Team are the bad guys.

Hmm. The players
change every year,

as do the scenarios
being tested.

But every year,

the results are published
in trade journals.

Except for 2009.

Those were
immediately classified.

Why?
Nobody knows.

That year's game was designed
to test the military response

to the activation of
a sleeper cell in New York City.

The Red Team's goal was to cause
maximum destruction

and chaos
with minimum resources.

Now, Len Pontecorvo believes

they uncovered a flaw
in national security.

Something so startling,
it was immediately declared

a federal secret.

That sounds scary.

It also doesn't sound as crazy
as the other theories.

Yeah.

The identities of
the Red Teamers are classified.

But Pontecorvo uncovered
one of them.

A counterinsurgency expert

called Martin Nagowski.

But this says he died.

He was killed a year
ago in a mugging.

Pontecorvo believes
the mugging was staged

and Nagowski was assassinated
to prevent him

from revealing
the Red Team's secrets.

Okay, you had me until then.

The government doesn't just
go around killing people.

It's easy enough to test
Pontecorvo's theory.

I'll identify the rest
of the Red Team.

If they're alive and well,
we'll move on.

Oh, it's that easy.

You're just going to find
five classified names?

Why not? It's
my day off.

And-and how does
the head of lettuce fit in?

Oh, thank you.

I nearly forgot.

Can't make soup out of Clyde
until I fatten him up, Watson.

That's sick.

Sherlock feels terribly
about what happened.

He'd tell you himself,
but you know how he is.

What would it take
for him to come back?

Is it just a matter
of sitting it out

or do you want
a formal apology?

You make it sound like he took

my favorite shirt
without asking.

Holmes planned to torture
and murder somebody.

Sherlock thought that Moran
murdered the woman he loved.

Which makes it natural to think
about paying him back.

An employee of this department
does not act on those impulses.

Do you want to know
what Sherlock can do? Nothing.

And if I had to bet,
I'd say he's not even sorry.

Now, I understand,

you're worried
about your client,

you think that he needs
this job to stay sober.

I understand that.

But he's broken,
and he's broken in a way

that has nothing to do

with whether or not
he's getting high.

Oh, speak of the devil.

Hmm.

Writing to say he's sorry?

I'm sorry, I don't

remember him.

You want to tell me why

we're in a long-term
care facility in Queens?

I spent the afternoon with
Len Pontecorvo's notes.

Did a little
research of my own.

Worked up a
list of names,

people that I'm convinced
were on the Red Team.

Carlo Anillo is
one of them.

He booked travel to the town
that houses the War College

on the days of the game.

He has a PhD in
Civil Engineering.

Hmm.

What's his diagnosis?

He was admitted
earlier in the year

with early-onset
Alzheimer's.

By all accounts,
his mind deteriorated

in a matter of weeks.

Curiously, no one in his family
has a history of the disease.

That's strange.

Almost every early-onset
case is familial.

One member of the Red Team
killed in a mugging,

one of them insensate in
a long-term care facility.

It's enough to
make one curious.

Well, you can't give
someone Alzheimer's.

You said you're with the NYPD?

Most of the
time, yes.

You can talk to him now
if you want.

Thank you.

Mr. Anillo.

My name is Sherlock.

This is my
associate, Joan.

We'd like to ask you
a few questions,

if that's all right.

Sure, if you want.

Do you remember
anything about the time

just before you came
to the hospital?

I'm sorry, no.

Anything about your
work at Columbia?

How about the Army?

You participated
in a war game.

My father was in the Marines.

Vietnam.

Mr. Anillo.

Mr. Anillo?

I'm sorry, what did you ask me?

Does he do this often?

You mean space out?

Sure.
Well, I don't think he's spacing out.

I think he's having
a micro-seizure.

I don't think so.

I asked the doctor about it.

She said seizures don't happen

to people with that
kind of Alzheimer's

that Carlo has.

You're confident
that was a seizure?

You cannot give
someone Alzheimer's,

but you may be able to mimic
its symptoms.

Alzheimer's patients,
they don't have seizures.

People who've been poisoned
with domoic acid do.

Domoic acid-- that's what you
find in rotten shellfish.

It is also a neurotoxin.

It attacks the hippocampus,
the seat of memory in the brain.

You give someone
a large enough dose,

they'd lose virtually
their entire memory.

They would appear to be
an Alzheimer's patient.

You think someone poisoned
Carlo Anillo?

Why not?

Murder is just one way
to stop someone from talking.

This is much more creative.

The beauty is we can test
to see if I'm right.

If Anillo was dosed,

we'll know that someone
was targeting

the 2009 members
of the Red Team,

and that that person killed
Len Pontecorvo.

We're talking an awful lot
for two guys

who aren't supposed
to be working together.

Shh, listen to me.
It is highly possible

that Len Pontecorvo's murderer

poisoned a man
called Carlo Anillo

and murdered someone named
Martin Nagowski, maybe others.

We need to look into a war game
that was conducted in 2009.

No, Holmes, stop talking.

We just arrested the guy
that killed Pontecorvo.

I beg your pardon?

Yeah, it's a guy
named Gary Sullivan

from the chat room he moderated.

They got into a flame war

over some moon landing
conspiracy theory.

Sullivan confronted him
in person.

Things got out of hand.

They guy felt so bad
about what he did,

he turned himself in.
I don't know where

this poison stuff
is coming from,

but Sullivan didn't mean
to kill Len Pontecorvo.

It was an accident.

Just so
I'm understanding you correctly,

neither of you believe

that Neil Armstrong walked
on the moon?

Of course not.
That's not the issue.

The issue is who staged
the fake landing.

Excuse me.

Well, it's obvious that that man

is not the mastermind
of anything.

What are you doing here?

I'm trying to figure out
what happened.

Now, Pontecorvo's murder
may have been happenstance.

That doesn't mean

that I'm wrong
about the Red Team.

Carlo Anillo was poisoned.

I mean, why are you
in this building

when you're suspended?

Captain, lives may be at stake.

We need to find the members
of the Red Team and warn them.

The department
appreciates your tip

in leading to the arrest
of Gary Sullivan.

Concerned citizens
such as yourself

play an important role
Why are you talking like that?

in keeping this city safe.

Are you listening to me?

Lives are at stake
every day here, Holmes,

and yet we had a department
and a city before you got here.

You talk your way

into that
interrogation room again,

and I will have you
arrested for trespassing.

Are you okay?

Punishment, as if
that accomplishes anything.

Does he really think
that we need

the NYPD's resources
to investigate?

Don't we?
Of course we don't.

We'll just trace
the surveillance device

we found at Pontecorvo's home
back to its source.

It's bad enough you're making
me sit in a rental car.

Okay, I am not gonna

listen to static anymore.

It's my turn to
choose the song.

You chose some abysmal racket;
I choose static.

I find it conducive to thought.

Static is not a song;
it doesn't end.

How can you be sure the person
who bugged Pontecorvo's house

is actually gonna
come back for it?

If there was one bug in there,
the odds are there are others.

Whoever left it there won't want
to risk someone finding it.

The place was in the hands
of the police

until an hour ago,
so they couldn't fetch

their things until now.

The TV satellite truck

that pulled up 20
minutes ago, hmm.

He clearly isn't here
to install anything.

So it seems
that he is posing as a worker.

And when he realizes

there is no surveillance device
in the terrarium,

we'll simply follow him

back to whoever he works for.

Have you thought
about maybe going

and apologizing
to Captain Gregson?

Might go a long way.
The man is a practiced interrogator.

He knows an insincerity
when he hears one.

There's no part
of you that feels

even a little bad
about what you did?

I don't want to discuss this.

Well, sometimes you have
to talk about things that

make you feel uncomfortable.

I won't feel uncomfortable;
you will.

Why?

I'm smarter
than everyone I meet, Watson.

I know it's bad form
to say that,

but in my case, it's a fact.

Allowances have to be made.

Allowances?

It's true

I have wronged Captain Gregson.

It was the cost of revenge,
and I incurred it willingly.

The larger question is

how does my suspension
benefit the city?

If the role
of the public servant

is to keep an eye
on the greater good,

then why keep me from my work?

My work is the greater good.

See, you're uncomfortable.

Oh, fortunately,

we will soon have driving

to distract us.

Your bug?

What is this place?

Howdy.

We mostly do business
by appointment here.

Howdy.

Thought you might
want this back.

What is this place?

NSA? CIA?

Army Intelligence?

We do market research.

It's been slow.

So, who are you guys, anyway?

My name is
Sherlock Holmes.

I am a temporarily
suspended consultant

for the NYPD.

This is Joan Watson.

She keeps me
from doing heroin.

And you would be?

Bill.

Bill.

Well, Bill, we know that the man
who just walked into this office

was surveilling Len Pontecorvo.

Bob? No, his sister works here.

They're going out to lunch.

I also suspect

that this office
is keeping an eye

on the 2009 members
of the Red Team.

Red Team?
Yes.

Those it hasn't
already attacked yet.

If, in fact,
you are engaged

in a plan to eliminate
those citizens,

I would like you to know
that I know who they are.

Veena Mehta,

professor of anthropology,

expert in Middle
Eastern cultures;

Solomon Zyckner,

probability and statistics guru;

Sheldon Frost, the cartographer;

Harold Dresden, mathematician;

Leland Tantowicz,
weapons field expert;

and of course,
Walter McClenahan,

Lieutenant Colonel, retired.

Well, it sounds like
they would make

an interesting dinner party.

Mm.

I'm gonna make quite certain
that nothing happens to them.

Good for you.

I got to ask, though.

If the Army
or the CIA or whoever

wanted to kill a bunch of people
who did something back in 2009,

why would any of them
still be alive today?

It's the Army.

They get some helicopters,
some rocket launchers and stuff,

and take care of it
all in one night.

That'd be my advice, anyway.

And you can keep that.

Never seen it before.

Well, okay.

Well, that was either
a waste of time,

or I'm gonna be audited every
year for the rest of my life.

Wasn't a waste.

I listed the names
of some of the people

I thought might be
on the Red Team.

Our friend, Bill,
ground his teeth

for some names
but not others.

You were testing him?

And now I know
the identities

of all of the
team members.

Detective Bell, how can I help?

So, we just got the results
of the tox screen

we ran on Carlo Anillo.

He was poisoned
with domoic acid.

Gregson wants to hear
everything you know.

Happy to oblige,

as long as you'll get me
a visitor's pass.

Walter McClanahan,
systems analyst

and Lieutenant
Colonel retired.

What do you people want?
You're a hard man to find.

Six addresses
in two years.

Would you come
with me, please?

Something wrong?

Who are these people?

That's Veena Mehta,
Harold Dresden,

Sheldon Frost, but I
suspect you know that.

Gentlemen, Miss Mehta,

I know that I'm addressing the
2009 members of the Red Team.

Those of you who are well enough
to be walking around, anyway.

I'm a free citizen of the United States;
I'd like to leave now.

Nobody's holding you
here, Mr. McClanahan.

Walt,

these people aren't
with the Army.

Let's just, uh,
calm down.

Sit down, huh?

Let's hear what they want.

I believe
that you're all in danger.

Now, some you may know
that Martin Nagowski is dead.

I believe that
his murder

was planned.

I know for a fact

that Carlo Anillo
was poisoned.

You're here
because the four of you

were brilliant enough
to help develop a plan

that paralyzed the Army
with fear.

I'm hoping that you might
be able to provide some insight

as to who's trying to harm you.

We should talk,
but I'm not going first.

We took an oath, Sheldon.

If we all talk, nobody
can report anyone else.

Saying a single
word to these people

is treason.

I'm not comfortable with this.

This is not something
you can walk away from.

I'm very sorry.

We warned them, at least.

Maybe one of them
will change their mind,

tell us something later.

I think maybe one of them
just did.

I'm pretty sure you shouldn't
use Clyde as a paperweight.

Hardly think he minds.

You shouldn't refer
to it by its name.

It'll just make it harder
to enjoy the soup.

Take a look.

I've been reviewing past
Red Team exercises.

Came across that photograph
quite by accident.

It's the man we met
earlier today.

He introduced
himself as "Bill""

but the caption lists his
name as Todd Clarke.

He was a first lieutenant
when that picture was taken.

Could have been captain by 2009.

You think he had something to do
with the Red Team exercises?

He worked at
the Army War College.

He was surveilling Pontecorvo.

I think we may have already
found our "Yossarian."

What do you think they found?
Haven't thought about it.

It's my job to find
the murderers.

Yeah, but you live in New York.

Their plan to attack it
was so good

they made it a national secret.

The world is balanced

on a knife edge of destruction
every single day.

You accept that, and you can
just get on with things.

Sherlock Holmes?

And you would be?
Curious if you know

a man named
Todd Clarke.

Oh, you mean Bill?

We were just
talking about him.

Are you in
market research, too?

Sir, you did level
a series of accusations

at him earlier
this afternoon.

What's this about?

Colonel Clarke was
shot and killed

outside his home
earlier this evening.

We're going to need you
to come with us.

You accused Todd Clarke
of masterminding some sort

of plot to kill citizens
who allegedly

took part in Army war games.

And by 1900 hours,

he's dead.

You have to admit,
the coincidence is striking.

It's not striking.
It's not even a coincidence.

I suspect that your
Colonel Clarke was killed

by the same person who poisoned
Carlo Anillo.

Question is: why?

Carlo Anillo is
a private citizen.

His poisoning has nothing
to do with this.

Yes, so you've said.

Clarke was not
a member of the Red Team,

but he was Army Intelligence,

and he did teach
at the War College.

Which leads me to believe
that he was "Yossarian,"

their liaison during
the exercise.

That means that

Clarke knew everything
that the Red Team did.

And that makes him dangerous
in the eyes of the killer,

who may or may not have been
affiliated with the government.

Speaking of which,
where were you two

at 1900 hours this evening?

I'm sorry. Do you think
this is funny?

I assure you, I find no levity
in the death of Colonel Clarke.

Then why are you spouting
a bunch of nonsense

about government assassinations?

You know what?
We're taking you

to INSCOM in Virginia
for further questioning.

What about my alibi?
There are half a dozen

security cameras
concealed in my home.

If the two of you would be
kind enough to collect them,

you'll see that I was home
at 7:00 this evening.

You told me you were
getting rid of those cameras.

I thought you'd be glad

I'm not on my way
to a secret prison.

You should have just given them
the tapes at the house.

Then I would not have had
to bring them down here.

We could have avoided
the whole trip.

I wanted to
take the trip.

I wanted them to
interrogate me

so I could
counter-interrogate them.

It worked. Whoever's
killing the Red Team

does not work at
that field office.

They thought that I
killed Todd Clarke.

They obviously haven't got
a clue what's going on.

No cabbie is gonna stop
if you blow a whistle at them.

Cabs have been hailed this way
for decades

because this is the most
efficient way to hail a cab.

The murder of Todd Clarke
makes me more certain than ever

that someone is killing anyone
with knowledge

of the Red Team's plans.

I'm just not certain
it's Army Intelligence anymore.

Who else knew the names
of the Red Team?

See? Not stopping.

The list could have worked
its way up the chain of command.

It could have leaked
to another agency.

Then, of course, there's
the Red Team themselves.

Why would they
pick themselves off?

No obvious reason.

Who are you calling?
It's time for the police

to take the rest of the team
into protective custody.

Taxi!

Mr. McClenahan?

Mr. McClenahan?

Mr. McClenahan?

Are you in there?

Mr. McClenahan?

How's Polk and Mahone?

They're lucky those shells
were filled with rock salt.

They're gonna be
laid up for a while,

but they'll be okay.
Super, too.

That contraption's not the only
weapon we found in the place.

Assault rifles, knives and
a nine-millimeter pistol.

Todd Clarke was
killed with a nine-millimeter.

We're gonna run
a comparison ballistics test,

but I'd say we found
ourselves a suspect.

Holmes says he's on his way.

Now, I didn't call him.

Who's texting him pictures
of the crime scene?

He probably called in a favor
from one of the CSU guys.

I'll figure it out.

We put a BOLO out
on McClenahan. Hopefully...

Hopefully he hasn't
left town yet...

Sorry.

Says he found McClenahan.

What?
Yeah.

How'd you find him so fast?

I didn't. I just needed
you to answer the phone.

Are the others safe?

Yeah. Mehta and Frost are
at the hotel already.

Dresden, I guess,
has taken a while to pack,

but he's got our people
with him.

I'm not coming there any longer.
Don't wait for me.

We're not waiting
for you.

Probably be easier
to fire the guy

if we ever
actually paid him.

Mr. Dresden, I was
surprised to hear

that you hadn't gone
to the hotel.

Oh, I'm-- They said
we're okay for a bit.

There isn't much we can do
quickly these days.

She has
limb-onset A.L.S.

Two years now.

We're here because Walter
McClenahan has emerged

as a suspect in the
Red Team murders.

You think Walt did this?

I noticed that you and
he had a certain...

uh, connection; he
seemed to listen to you.

Yeah, sure,
I got to know Walt.

He's weird,
but he's brilliant.

We stayed in touch.

I guess we became... friends.

I think I may be
his only friend.

Then help us
find him.

If he's not the killer,
he's in danger.

If he is, we need
to get him into custody

before he hurts anyone else.

I noticed you didn't

exactly howl in protest when
I mentioned he was a suspect.

Without going into specifics,

the plan we came up with
back in '09 was...

disturbing.

It's a lot to live with,

and it did different things
to all of us.

I got back in touch
with my brother.

I started going to church again.

Walt went in
a different direction.

See, there are people who want
to know what we found out.

Bad people.

And Walt was convinced that

someone was gonna
sell our secret.

He used to joke that he might
as well be the one to do it.

And after Nagowski got killed,

Walt told me
to look on the bright side.

Every time one of us dies,

there are fewer people
to sell the plan.

That makes it worth
more and more.

I thought he was kidding.

He was trying to
drive up the price.

With the Red Team dead,
any potential buyer

would have to come to him;
he could charge a fortune.

Mm. You have an idea
where he is, don't you?

Yeah. He bought some land
out in New Jersey.

He built a bunker there.

McClenahan may be in
a bunker in New Jersey.

No, he's not.
We just found him.

And he's definitely
not our killer.

A homeless guy found him

a little while ago.

He was shot once
in the back of the head

about 24 hours ago.

Then the killer
dragged him over here.

Left him like that.

Where's your shadow, anyway?

Harold Dresden's wife is sick.

She's helping him
get her ready for travel.

What are these
aquamarine fibers on his shirt?

Oh, yeah.
The killer draped a blanket

over McClenahan's face
and torso.

The patrolman removed it
to check his vitals

when he arrived on the scene.

He covered his face?
You're sure?

Mm-hmm.

That's more care than he took
with any of his other victims.

Suggests an element
of shame here.

McClenahan was killed
by someone he knew.

The guy didn't seem
like a social butterfly.

He had one friend.

We need to get to the hotel
where the Red Team's gathered.

Why?

I think the killer
may already be there.

Well, it ain't much,
I know, but it's safe.

Detective, any word
on whether they found Walt?

I don't know how long
Sheila can stay here.

Nah, I haven't heard anything
yet, but we're on the case.

Are the others already here?

Yeah, the department
took the whole floor.

Ah, that works perfectly.
Thank you.

Mr. Dresden! Freeze!

Is everyone all right?

We think so.

After you called in
the warning,

one of our guys
interrupted Dresden

just as he was about
to shoot Veena Mehta.

We got the rest
of the Red Team out,

but he nabbed
one of our detectives.

Holding him hostage
in the room.

If Harold Dresden intended
to sell the Red Team's plans,

the motive
would be money.

He planned to kill the
other two team members

in a hotel full
of policemen?

That's not something one
typically walks away from.

Doesn't sound like he plans
to go anywhere.

Our negotiator called
the room phone.

Dresden gave us his demands.

Usually a guy wants a helicopter
or a bus.

He just wants the rest

of the surviving Red Team
delivered to him.

Then he'll let our guy out.

He's on a
suicide mission.

I need to speak with him.

That guy is holed up in there
with one of my detectives.

I'm not putting this in the
hands of a suspended consultant.

Captain, I know why Dresden
is doing this,

and I know what to say
to make him stop.

I understand
what's at stake here.

I'll get your man out safely.

Are they here?

I think not.

Why are you calling?

Can you keep a secret,
Mr. Dresden?

Most people say yes
when you ask them that,

but all they really want is
for you to give them the dish.

In your case, though, I'd say
that you'd earned the right

to answer in the affirmative.

I have no idea
what this is about,

but I already told
the police what I want.

Bring me Veena and Frost.

Or I shoot this detective.

I think we both know
that you won't do that.

Just as we both know
the only person

presently in that room
that you intend to harm

is yourself, Mr. Dresden.

How could you
possibly know that?

Let me in. Let's talk about it.

If you hear what I've got to say
and you're still in the mood

for violence, then I'll
leave you to your standoff.

I'm quite unarmed.

That's better.

I prefer a face-to-face,
don't you?

Mind if I get something
from the minibar?

NYPD's buying.

Uh, my sober companion
couldn't make the trip up here.

But I suppose I should forgo
alcohol all the same.

You said you wanted
to talk.

So sit down and talk.

I judge people
by their behavior.

And your behavior can only lead
to one conclusion.

You're clearly not interested
in profit.

You just want to be certain
that no one learns the plan

the six of you
came up with.

You're convinced
it's gonna get out.

And that when it's enacted,
thousands,

maybe hundreds of thousands
of deaths will result.

But if everyone who knows
the plan is dead or stripped

of their memory,
that can never happen.

The math's really
quite straightforward.

Six of you,
plus your Army contact--

seven lives versus thousands.

You worked slowly at first, you
disguised what you were doing.

Then I start asking questions,
you have to speed things up.

Fortunately, for you, after
Todd Clarke was murdered,

we brought all of your remaining
targets to this hotel.

One thing I can't
work out, though,

is why you became so certain
the plan would leak.

You didn't start killing
for two years

after the war game.

Two years ago...

That's when Sheila

woke up one morning and
told me she felt this

twitching in her hand.

You know much about
the progression of A.L.S.?

You lose about two percent
of your body's functions

every month.

Two years in,

all I can do is

try to keep her
from getting bed sores.

I'd been approached before
about selling our plan.

I think we all had
cryptic e-mails,

strangers coming up
to you in the subway.

Who'd they represent?

They never said.

One of them did say
he could help Sheila

if I talked to him.

It was two years ago.

Yeah, right when
she first got sick.

I knew he was lying, of course.

But even so, I spent days

thinking about it.

If he'd been able
to do a thing for her,

I'd have told them
everything I know.

See, everyone's got
that one thing, don't they?

Some weakness that could
lead you to betray

every principle
you ever had.

The thing we created had value.

And I realized it was
only a matter of time

until someone
put a price on it.

So you made arrangements
for your wife's care.

Got down to business.

So, you figured out my plan--
congratulations.

And thank you
for helping me enact it.

When I only had one policeman
in here, I had no leverage.

Now, once I shoot you,
they'll realize

I'm serious about
killing that detective.

They'll give me
what I want.

Eight lives versus thousands.

Math still works.

I'm amazed you still
haven't worked it out.

There really is no such
thing as a secret.

The plan,

it's in a memo.

It's been e-mailed
back and forth.

It was labeled "For eyes only."

No one but the White House
Situation Room has access to it.

I know what it is.
You do not!

I do.

I worked it out
hours after taking the case.

And before you pull that
trigger, you should know,

I told a colleague.

I wrote it down.

Your secret is out.

If you're telling the truth...

...that's checkmate.

So...

What's the plan?

Don't move!
Alright, hands behind your back.

Detective okay?

All good!

You okay?

How did you get
Dresden to come out?

Well, I knew the Red Team's
plan, and I told him that.

How did you figure that out?

I thought very quickly
and very carefully.

You mean you guessed?

Well... I had a notion

as to the Red Team's
strategy, I just...

chose the most likely one.

Gun to one's head,
very powerful stimulus.

Captain, I think that you and I
owe each other a conversation.

I got to deal with this.

There's a place called McNabb's
at 43rd and 12th.

Meet me there in an hour.

♪

I'm not really supposed to be
spending much time in bars.

Well, tonight is
not about you.

If I'm gonna have
this conversation,

I'm gonna have a drink
to go with it.

I regret that
circumstances caused me

to endanger our relationship.

It was a price I was willing
to pay for revenge.

As was the likelihood
of going to prison.

As it turns out,
there's no revenge to be had.

Given that,
it serves no one's interest

for you to keep me
from my work.

Who the hell are you?

I beg your pardon?

'Cause obviously,
you're not

the person I
thought you were.

I don't know how
to answer that question.

You don't let anyone
into your life

that's not constantly
concerned with you.

What kind of
mood you're in,

whether you're
getting high or not,

whether you're gonna
work like an adult

or throw a
temper tantrum.

You know what?

Most of the time,
you're worth it,

because you
are special.

Damned if you
don't know it.

But you are.

You want to
work cases?

You're right.

I can't say no.

Don't think for a minute
that I'm ever gonna forget

that you were planning to
murder someone on my watch.

And don't think that I'm ever
gonna really trust you again.

You don't need
to trust me to benefit

from my intellect, do you?

No, I don't.

But I do need to get
something out of my system.

Welcome back.

WATSON
Hey, I didn't hear you come in.

Um, how'd it go?

Well, I've been reinstated.

Well, you don't
sound too happy.

Are you eating soup?

I was hungry.

Please tell me
you didn't cook Clyde.

The soup is split pea.

These are magnificent creatures.

Clyde will likely
outlive both of us.

You didn't really think
I would eat him, did you?

I don't know. I guess it's hard
to know what you're gonna do.

You want to tell me
what happened with Gregson?

All right. Good night.

== sync, corrected by elderman ==