All language subtitles for NCIS.Sydney.S01E08.720p.WEB.en

That boat
was rigged to explode.

And what about the woman?

Well, no sign of her
yet, but still looking.

I've got 50 people
down here,

including a heavily
pregnant woman.

What kind of killer

traps themselves in
with their victims?

The kind with an escape plan.

And a device
to jam the tech.

What if it's more than that?

All evidence points to
a sleeper cell

going back years.

Alright,
just let me get a quick photo!

- Say 'cheese'.
- Cheese!

Hammer -
an incredible tool.

Huh? Always take a hammer
to school. This is...

What is this?

Okay, well, this is a bike
with one wheel, yes?

- Okay.
- Are you gonna ride it?

How? It has only one wheel.

Yes, boy?

I'm not being mean,

but I thought clowns
were meant to be funny.

Yes, funny.

Some are. Some are sad
clowns also. Boo-hoo-hoo!

Do you know any magic tricks?

Sure.

I will do amazing magic trick, yes.

Come, birthday boy,
you can be assistant.

High protection essential.

Where'd you find him?
Looks like he slept in his car.

A clown car, you'd hope.

His outfit doesn't even fit.

They're nine-year-olds jacked up
on chocolate crackles.

What do they know?

Well, they know that clowns

are meant to wear big shoes

and have red noses
and be remotely funny.

- As long as Jack's having fun.
- Yeah.

If you want
to disappear,

you have to have your hands
firmly tied.

I'm sure he's on his way.

Yeah, right.

This is Jack's ninth birthday.

So far, his dad's missed
numbers 4 through 8.

- Anyway...
- Happy birthday, Jack!

All right, that's our cue.

All right!

Cake time!

Come on! Squish in!

Make room for the birthday boy!

Where's Jack?

Could someone go and get Jack,
please? Quick.

The candles are gonna
melt all over the stegosaurus.

I think he's gone, Mrs. D.

He's gone?

What do you mean he's gone?
He lives here.

The clown made him disappear.

Wait, is that...

Jack!

Call the police!

Oh, my God! Call the police!

Jack!

You should rock that
all the time.

You think?

Yeah, for sure.

Makes you look smarter.

Oh!

Well, let me know next time

you plan on getting trapped
in a bunker

and need me to rescue you
and I'll be sure to throw it on.

Oh! Ouch, D.

Sick burn.

- Learned from the best.
- Yeah.

Yeah. Don't be a hater.

You know I look good.

Damn.

Not smelling good, though.

Ugh, what is that?

TestostAroma for Men.

- What? It was on sale.
- Yeah, funny, that.

Ugh! Fine. Give it.

Oh, now you want it.

TestostAroma?

Oh! My man!

You see that?

Hey.

Anything from
Customs and Immigration?

Zip.

No ID, no record
of her coming or going,

no flagged passports or any
commercial flight manifests.

So we think she's a local, then?

Not unless she's lived
a very sedate life.

I fed her photo
into all the databases.

Facial rec doesn't ping to
any local government agencies.

Great.

So she's definitely not
from here,

but there's no record of her
coming into the country either.

And she's not even sweating.

What does she know
that we don't?

Oh, you shouldn't have.

Call me old-fashioned.

And what should we call you?

My line of work

involves keeping
those sorts of details private.

- I'm sure you understand.
- You're Irish, right?

What makes you think that?

You're gonna have to tell us
at some point.

Unless you want to wear that
table as a permanent handbag.

Something funny?

You're not really seeing the
bigger picture here, Sergeant.

I don't imagine you'll be
keeping me here very long.

Why's that, exactly?

Because once word gets out
that you have me,

Agent Mackey's colleagues from
the more... serious agencies

will start to make
their presence felt.

Which is why it's in your
interest to help us first.

How so?

Because, unlike those
more... serious agencies,

here at NCIS,
we just ask questions.

Doozies.

When the others
get involved,

well, they can be a little more
hands-on.

Sounds like fun.

I thought you'd be more into
killing US submariners

to try and steal
nuclear secrets.

Or murdering naval researchers

so you can watch 50 people
asphyxiate in a bunker.

We're gonna be at this
for a while, yeah.

So why don't you at least
tell us what we call you?

- Call me whatever you like.
- Don't tempt me.

Aileen? Alannah? Ally?

Ana.

My name is Ana Neimus.

See, that wasn't so hard now,
was it? Hm?

So where are you from, Ana?

Well,
it depends who's asking me.

And who's paying my fee.

And, you know,
like, in what currency...

So... yeah.

Take it, Sergeant.

I'm not going anywhere just yet.

Hey, sorry,
I'm almost done here.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.
Hey, slow down, Bec.

I can't understand
what you're saying.

What do you mean,
they took Jack?

Jim Dempsey, AFP. AFP.

AFP. AFP.

Bec...

We're gonna bring him back,
I promise.

All right?
We've mobilized the entire team.

Don't.

I have agents
at transport hubs...

- Jim, stop, stop.
- ...at airports.

We're gonna find him.
It's just a matter of time.

Just stop!

You said that
you were gonna be here.

I didn't forget, Bec.

We had a thing.
I couldn't get away.

You can rip into me as much as
you want when this is over,

but right now it is vital

that you tell me everything
that you know about this guy.

5'8, stubble,
he sounded Eastern European.

- What else?
- I don't know.

I don't know.
I barely spoke to him.

He... he was late.

He just rocked up
and got straight into it.

Where the hell
did you find this guy?

Excuse me?

No, I didn't mean it like that.

- Oh, so... so this is my fault?
- That's not what I'm saying.

I hired a clown, Jim,

because I organize everything
because you don't!

You're an ex-husband, Jim.
You're not an ex-father.

Oh!

- I've got to take this.
- Yeah, take it.

Dad! Dad!

Please, I'm so scared!

Come and get me, Dad, please!

Lucky day, Daddy.

Now we each have something
the other wants.

So we swap, yes?

The boy for the girl.
Keep your phone on.

JD.

JD!

- Where the hell's my son?
- What?

It's okay.
Get it all out, Sergeant.

I'm only just getting started.

And I'm not stopping
till you tell me where he is!

JD!

How would I know? I've been in
here the whole time, remember?

Besides, I'm terrible with kids.

You should probably step in

before he does
something he regrets.

I'd hate for him to wake up
in the morning as a former cop.

- Let's take a walk.
- You'll talk.

It's just a matter of time.

Tick-tock.

What the hell
are you doing?

My job.

- She's wasting our time.
- Oh, how do you figure that?

They took my son
and she knows where.

- I don't think so.
- Oh, come on!

We grab her and they grab Jack -

you're telling me that's
some kind of coincidence?

Of course not.

It's connected,
but I don't think she knows how.

How can she pivot that quick?

You give me two minutes
alone with her

and I'll find out.

Think about it - the bunker

didn't turn out
like she planned,

which means she couldn't know

she'd be handcuffed
to that table right now.

Whoever organized the switch,
it wasn't her.

Pushing her any further
is a waste of time,

and we don't have any to waste.

So we agree to the swap, then?

No.

No?

Whoever she is,
she's important enough

for someone to kidnap
a nine-year-old boy to get her.

- Yeah, my nine-year-old boy!
- Exactly.

Which means that
we have the leverage.

- I am not giving that up yet.
- This is my son!

- It's my call.
- It's my fault!

I should have been there
at that party.

And, you know, right now Jack
would be sitting on the couch

putting batteries in his toys
and scoffing cake!

Whatever it takes,

whatever I have to do,

I am going to get him back.

I promise you.

But you gotta step away, okay?

Let me run this.

Your son's life depends on it.

No luck tracing
the clown's phone.

The signal bounced off
a dozen global relay stations

before we lost it.

Someone's got the fancy toys.

Okay, um,

what about the ransom video -
anything off that?

Just more confirmation
as to why I hate clowns.

Tight space.
Limited natural light.

Narrows it down.

We did catch a break on
the clown hire company, though.

It's called Laugh It Up.

We pulled the van's plates
from RMS

and put out a citywide heads-up.

Got these too. From one of
the mums at the party.

Get this to Blue.

I wanna see the son of a bitch
beneath the paint.

On it.

Um, boss...

Special Agent Mackey,
how you doing?

I've been better, sir.
I won't lie.

How's Sergeant Dempsey
holding up?

Is this some kind
of welfare check?

No, I'm afraid not.

The capture of your blonde
friend has pinged in DC.

There's an FBI grab team en
route to render her stateside.

She's subject to
an Interpol red notice,

top of everyone's wish list.

How long we got?

They're already wheels-up.

Eight to 10 hours max.

So whatever your play is,

I suggest you play it now.

- I appreciate the heads-up.
- He's one of ours, Agent Mackey.

You do what you gotta do.

Sir.

Special Agent Mackey.

To what do I owe the pleasure?

I'm assuming you've heard

we're holding
a high-value guest at HQ.

Someone did mention that.

I'm told there'll be
unexpected acronyms in town

over the next 24 hours.

- Price of fame, I'm afraid.
- Maybe.

But it might not help bring this
case to its best conclusion.

Sergeant Dempsey's boy
has been snatched.

They want a swap.

Any idea who's behind it?

Not yet.

Perhaps our visiting acronyms

may be more persuasive
in working that out.

No doubt.

But the moment they take
possession of our collar,

we lose any chance we have
of recovering the kid.

Figured you might be able
to help.

You're asking me
to run interference

with our own
government agencies?

I need time,
and you can buy me some.

The kid's family.

I wouldn't ask
if I didn't need it.

Off the record,

have you considered
doing the swap?

I got two of my own back
in Maryland, 10 and 13.

I'd understand
if it crossed your mind.

Talking out of school.

Let me see what I can do to
stall our visiting friends.

I appreciate it.

But understand this.

Your guest
is of extreme importance

to the US
intelligence community.

Holding them back is like
holding back the tide.

There's only so much you can do
before you're swept under.

Is that a mallet
I see before me?

I'm taking you down, down, clown.

Fridges are more private

if you don't mind the cold.

Oh, sorry,
I'll get out of your hair.

No, no, no, no, no, no,
you take your time.

I'm not gonna be needing
any of this today.

- You trust me.
- Yeah.

How's Bec holding up?

Well, you know.

You know, I, um, worked out
the other day

that Alice and me,

we'll have been married
40 years next April.

Can you believe that?

As she always said,

the only reason
we lasted that long

was because I spent half
that time on deployment

at the other side of the world.

Well, she might have a point.

The thing is, when I eventually
came home for good...

...she was already sick.

What we do comes at a cost, mate.

And it is not one
everyone can pay.

We're just the unlucky buggers
who can.

Hey, what have you got?

Any movement?

Not yet.

Are you sure that's it?

License plate's
a match.

Bomb squad have a throw-bot

taking a closer look
as we speak.

What is it?

The bot's picking up
what sounds like

a muffled human voice
in the back of the van.

- Jack's in there?
- Boss...

- My son is in that van?
- We don't know yet.

What are you standing
around here for?!

- What's wrong with you people?
- JD!

Righto, turn him over, will you?

I'm fine, okay?

How many fingers
am I holding up?

Doesn't matter.

Hey, mate, steady on.

Jim, she's just doing her job.

Now, listen to me.

It's not Jack.

It's not Jack.

All right? Come on, mate.

The deceased's an adult male.

Now, there's signs of soot
in his airways.

That tells me he was still alive
at the point of immolation.

Likely the original clown
booked to do the party.

Seems like someone abducted him,
took his place,

then killed him
to cover his tracks.

- What about the explosives?
- We sent a scraping to Blue.

Bomb squad found what looks like
a basic timing device.

Bomber must have known
we wouldn't charge in.

Buy himself some getaway time.

- Smart.
- Mm. There's also this.

Organic matter.

Conifer, maybe,
something like that.

- Why is it painted?
- Why's a dead clown holding it?

He's not so much
holding it, mate.

It's gaffer-taped to his hands.

We were meant to find it.

So this is a calling card.

Go wide. International.

Start with "death ritual",

"painted conifer",
"assassin for hire".

We're gonna get hits on

every James Ellroy novel
ever written.

Wait - we thinking unsolved
high-profile murders too?

Yeah, the whole lot.

This guy wants people
to know it was him,

so he's got to be
leaving a trail.

Okay, so still a bit of
a guesstimate,

but it's a start.

I think I preferred him
with the face paint on.

Get this out to all LEOs.

Yes, Mum. Ma'am.

Marm.

What about the van ordnance?

Yes, um, so, it looks like

it's a... a hard-to-get
military-grade plastique

with an unusually large velocity
for detonation.

Whose military?

Yours, actually.

Yeah, the same, uh, explosive

was used to blow up that boat
in the harbor.

In case that's relevant.

You know this clown?

It's a small industry.

You work together?

Not together, no.

He's more of a colleague.

I assume he's the man who took
the sergeant's boy, yes?

I thought you said you didn't
know anything about that.

I don't, but considering
you're showing me his photo,

I expect he's contacted you
and offered a swap.

It must be awkward having
someone try to bail you out, no?

I never asked him to.

Then why is he here?

Someone worried you might get
a little chatty?

Is that why he wants you back
so bad?

- You'd have to ask him.
- I intend to.

In the meantime, I would love
to hear your thoughts.

Some more of your savior's
handiwork.

Blew him up in a van with
a conifer taped to his hands.

What do you make of that?

He's always been
a wee bit theatrical.

The explosive is the same type
you used

on the NAVSEA team's speedboat.

You guys compare notes?

I heard it was
a faulty fuel line.

Yeah?

And I heard Elvis
is living in a trailer

out the back of Graceland.

Whether you give them up or not,

your boss is gonna assume
you did.

You don't get to be me
by having a boss.

Having a boss
means taking sides,

and sides are so overrated.

So you're a mercenary, then.

Work for anyone
who can meet your fee.

You're American.
Surely you can understand that.

Still...

...can't be a long list.

Rogue nations,
state sponsors of terrorism,

ambitious oligarchs.

I work for a bank account
in the Caymans.

You should try it!

We're always looking for
talented people

with a flexible moral compass.

Agent Mackey,
whatever that clown is asking,

you're better off
giving it to him.

It won't end well
if he has to take it.

Belgrade, Joburg.

Osaka.

Yeah, each of them
discovered dead

with a painted conifer
in their hands.

- Same as our clown.
- The conifer's his thing.

Make sure the industry
knows it was him.

- Pays to advertise.
- We did a little digging.

Turns out it's an obscure
pagan tradition

within the Russian
Orthodox Church.

Are we thinking
the clown's religious?

Mm-hm, sure seems that way.

And according to
the latest census,

a major hub of Russian émigré
population in Sydney

is here,

along with a big ol'
Orthodox church.

What's the conifer for, exactly?

It's meant to stop evil spirits
from finding you.

Yeah? How's it go
with NCIS agents?

- Thank you for coming.
- Thank you, thank you.

It's quite the turnout.

For many people,
the further you get from home,

the more you miss it.

They find comfort in tradition.

Like laying conifers
on corpses?

That sort of thing
still going on?

Not here, no,

but back home amongst
the more zealous, perhaps.

Why's that?

Winter is dying season
in Russia.

Flowers can be hard to come by.

But forests, we have many.

Can I ask what this is about?

We're looking for
this man.

We wondered if he's visited your
church over the last few days.

My pews are filled with men
that look like this,

especially this week.

Uh, why this week?

It's Pentecost, our most
important holy day after Easter.

Sounds like something

a devout follower would go
to church for, right?

What's it involve?

It's a week-long feast
of thanks.

Lots of meals, lots of people,
lots of faces.

We are only looking for one.

Please.

I am shepherd for lost souls.

I will not throw them
to the wolves.

This guy is the wolf.

I...I don't know him. I'm sorry.

Now, if you'll excuse me.

Hey, come on, pal, it was always
gonna be a long shot.

Why?

He's a zealot

who lays conifers on
his victims, for God's sake.

He's not gonna miss

the second-most holy feast
of the year.

- He's an assassin
- Yeah, who kills for a living.

He's got a lot to repent for.

He's gonna show his face
in church, I guarantee it.

You want to get something to go?

It's a week-long feast.

People gotta eat.

Sergeant Dempsey, AFP.

I need to see your food delivery
logs for the past 48 hours.

It's the busiest day
of the year.

Perhaps can you come back later?

I can't, actually, but I can
shut down your entire shop

while you do as I ask.

Okay.

You wanna tell me
what we're looking for?

People gotta eat.

We're wasting time, okay?
Let's go.

There!

What am I looking at?

These are all food deliveries
for Pentecost, right?

All of them
residential addresses.

Who lives in a storage locker?

Unit J317.

It should be up the end.

AFP, get on the ground!

Still warm.

He knew we were coming.

Which means
he's not coming back.

- One wig.
- Check.

One... rubber pregnancy suit

with a hole cut out
to hide stuff in.

Ugh! Creepy.

How we doing?

Just logging Neimus's evidence
while we still have it.

Before the FBI rocks up.

One James Bond
death-jammer thingy.

Is that thing still on?

Let me see that.

It's a jamming device, right?

Designed to disrupt
the GaiaMetric signal

so that all those people
asphyxiated down in that bunker.

We've been over this,
haven't we?

We're just not clear on what
was meant to happen next.

I would have thought
that much was obvious.

Humor me.

Once we were all dead

you were gonna
turn the jammer off,

activate the tech and escape
with the prototype, right?

- That was the plan.
- That's what we thought.

Which is why we're all
a little confused.

How were you gonna turn it off?

Like most things,
it's not rocket science.

May I?

That's weird, right?

See, we pulled it apart,

and according to our colleague,

the off-switch
was never connected.

"Air-gapped"
was the technical term.

Take the back off.
Have a look.

It was all just for show.

See, your boss meant for you
to die down there

along with everyone else
in that bunker.

And this guy...

...he's not planning on
rescuing you,

he's planning on killing you.

Sure you backed the right horse?

You don't care about
my son.

But what about revenge?

His name is Yaroslav Utkin.

That the original clown?

Yeah, gotta get him
to the coroner's office.

- Let me give you a hand.
- Thanks, mate.

Put out a countrywide APB
for Yaroslav Utkin,

U-T-K-I-N.

On it.

This is Mackey.

Well, when will they get here?

Copy that.

No, no, I appreciate the effort.

That was Rankin.

He did his best to stall them,

but the FBI grab team
are on the way.

How long have we got?

They touched down an hour ago.

Uh, what are you doing, Jim?

Time's up.

The grab team take her,
Jack's dead.

So, what, you're gonna barricade
yourself in here Waco-style?

She's the only thing
keeping Jack alive,

so I can't give that up,
I can't let that happen.

What choice do we have?

It's the US Government, Jim.

We can't physically stop them
from taking her.

Walt Cummins, FBI,
Special Agent in Charge.

Helluva collar.

Special Agent Mackey, NCIS.

Welcome to Sydney.

This way.

- Can I get y'all coffee?
- No, we're good.

We've got a short turnaround,
so we're keen to get into it.

We still have a few more routes
to run,

so why don't I talk you through

what we've learned
in the meantime?

I appreciate the offer,

but, uh, I think
we can take it from here.

The abducted kid's family -

we can work something out,
can't we?

Your collar is wanted
for espionage

and the murder of US servicemen,
Agent Mackey.

I'm afraid the national
security calculus

is bigger than either of us.

Bigger than
an innocent kid's life?

Once we have her in custody,

we'll do everything
to get the boy back.

- That's not good enough.
- That's all you're gonna get.

Just remember,
we're all on the same team here.

Unless we're not.

Through this way.

What the hell?

Care to explain, Agent Mackey?

Just tell me this -

just what kind of
a rinky-dink operation

are you guys running here?

You left a tier 1 HVT
unattended?

Due respect, sir,
she was cuffed in a secure room.

- 'Was' being the operative word.
- We'll get her back.

You won't be doing a damn thing.

You've all embarrassed
yourselves quite enough.

Hey, come on,
settle down, tiger.

Just remember whose country
you're standing in.

And you are?

Thoroughly unimpressed
with your matching haircuts.

We've alerted our
state and federal counterparts,

activated HVT protocols.

- She won't get far.
- Really?

And how do you figure that?

Given that she's eluded capture
anywhere in the world

until 24 hours ago.

Yeah, until we captured her.

And then let her go again
without learning a damn thing.

Not entirely true.
We have a name.

Ana Neimus? Anonymous?

You've been had, Agent Mackey.

You both have.

Now, your boss
can expect a call from mine.

And mine?

Way bigger than yours.

You'll be logging leave
applications out of a basement

in Maryland
before the week's out.

I always figured I'd end up
in one of these things.

Didn't count on
ever getting out.

Don't speak too soon.

Get out.

Any word
from Sergeant Dempsey?

You knew?

Why didn't you give him up?

And give the G-men a free kick?

Forget about it.

Besides, I told you already,

I'd do the same if my kids
were in danger.

I'm gonna put in a few calls,

see if I can shield you

from the worst of what's coming
down the pike.

Your team too, if I can.

But as for Sergeant Dempsey,

I'm afraid he's on his own.

Look, come on, Blue.

I need JD's location.

He's already got the jump.
We gotta roll.

I don't get it -
according to the tracker,

Doc's van hasn't even
left the base yet.

There's a reason for that.

I found it on the garage floor.

JD did not want us
following him, obviously.

Idiot.

We know
the direction he's heading.

Try tracking JD's phone.

Let's go.

I hope you have a plan,

because Yaroslav's not gonna
just hand over your son.

I'm working on it.

When you work it out,
let me know.

You can run
but you can't hide, boss.

It's just a matter of time.

- Bingo! I got him.
- Yep.

Okay,
triangulating his mobile.

I'm sending you through
his location now.

Nice!

Couldn't find a sneaky
satellite feed too, could you?

It would make things
a lot easier on our end.

How's the eye in the sky coming,
Bluebird?

I'm working
as fast as I can.

Can't reroute a satellite
at the drop of a hat.

No, but I know someone
who might.

Langley has a couple
of discreet assets

we may be able to bring online.

How long is that gonna take?

A few minutes, maybe.

In a few minutes
it won't matter.

- Dad, that you?
- I'm here, mate.

I've got you, okay? Don't worry.

No need to do that.

I did like you said.
I'm clean. Trust me.

Trust is not commodity
I deal in, Sergeant.

What is your name this week, darling?

Ana.

Hm.

Closing in
on JD's location.

It's JD's phone.

I need you
to get down on your knees.

What are you talking about?

I did exactly what you told me
to do.

I brought her here.

No one knows where I am.

- Now give me my son!
- Or what?

Yours is not a strong
bargaining position.

Not as strong as mine, anyway.

We made a deal.

Fair trade.

That only happens in the movies.

And this one doesn't have
happy ending.

- Dad!
- Don't listen to him, mate.

We'll be okay.

Now... down on your knees.

Whoa!

Can we get one of these?

Searching for the van in
the vicinity of the bus stop.

O Lord God,
in the name of they beloved son

who gave himself for a ransom
to death...

I'm sorry, is all this
really necessary?

Don't get me wrong, it's messed
up in all the right ways,

but there are multiple agencies
scouring the city for us

as we speak.

Could we maybe cut to the chase?

I'm helping steer their souls
into the next life.

I get it, I'm Catholic, but...

...I don't suppose
there's a shortcut?

I've got eyes.

- Sending the coordinates.
- Let's move.

Do thou loose the
grievous shackles of our death

and speed them
towards salvation.

Not exactly speeding, are we?

Never been a big believer
in formal religion.

- Is that so?
- Yeah.

Just an excuse for people
to behave badly.

You know I'm doing this
for your souls.

Yeah, good onya.

Get on with it, then.

If you insist.

What the hell?

Dad! Are you okay?

- Dad!
- Are you okay?

Are you okay?

Yeah.

It's okay. It's okay.

It's okay.

It's okay, you're safe.

No need to be scared now...

We had a deal too.

I gave you the gun.
I trusted you.

I'm with Yaroslav when
it comes to trust, I'm afraid.

Car keys.

So the jammer
had an off-switch after all.

Okay.

- Wow.
- I had no choice.

I'm not used to being played, Sergeant.

You would have done
the same thing

if you were in my shoes.

I guess you'll never know.

I'm sure your team
will arrive soon enough.

And if they don't...

...phone a friend.

You might be surprised
who answers.

- You okay?
- Yeah, yeah.

I love you. I love you.

Wanna go home?

- Yes.
- Okay.

You gonna get that, Colonel?