All language subtitles for Person.of.interest.S01E22.LOL.English-WWW.MY-SUBS.CO

WWW.MY-SUBS.CO

You are being watched.

The government
has a secret system--

A machine that spies on you
every hour of every day.

I know, because I built it.

I designed the machine
to detect acts of terror,

but it sees everything...

Violent crimes
involving ordinary people,

people like you,

crimes the government
considered irrelevant.

They wouldn't act,
so I decided I would.

But I needed a partner--

Someone with the skills
to intervene.

Hunted by the authorities,
we work in secret.

You will never find us.

But victim or perpetrator,

if your number's up,
we'll find you.

Sync and corrections by n17t01
www.MY-SUBS.com

Thought you would have
turned this thing off by now.

We turn it over tomorrow.

I'm keeping it online
as long as possible.

The world has been spinning
for 5 billion years

without your machine, Harold.

I'm sure it will be fine
for one more night.

Honestly, I'll be glad
to be rid of the thing.

This "thing" has
already saved countless lives.

You mean
countless relevant lives.

We had to draw
the line somewhere.

Everyone is relevant
to someone.

You would know that if you had

anyone in your life
you cared about.

I'm sorry.

What you've built here
is incredible.

And no one else will ever
get a chance to tell you that.

And I don't envy the decisions
you've had to make,

but I worry about you.

Seven years, you've been
watching other people's lives,

their plans,
their relationships.

Maybe it's time for you

to invest a little time
on your own.

Who says I haven't?

I know you like
your secrets, Harold,

Hello, Lionel.

You ready to bust
some dirty cops?

Simmons wants me to meet
the HR Brass next week.

Then call me next week.
I'm busy with research.

Research?

You mean following
your boss again.

You tailed him for weeks.

You couldn't even find out
where he lives.

Yeah, well,
unless you got an address,

I'd say that we're both
striking out, huh?

- Finch?
- We need to meet, Mr. Reese.

We've just received
another number.

We never had this conversation,

but I wanted
to thank you personally

for your work
on the Dubai report.

If you hadn't
flagged Carlson--

Carlson, sir?

He was the key
to the whole thing.

You saved our asses, son.
Thank you, sir.

Henry Peck, 33 years old,

never married,
lives alone in Turtle Bay.

Peck works as a chartered
financial analyst,

which is a fancy way
of saying he picks stocks

for a small financial firm,

Decker North and Associates.

Are you following me?

Financial analyst.
It's riveting.

Well, they can't all be
babies and mafia dons.

So far, the most unusual thing
about Henry Peck is that

he has better-than-average
security habits.

I haven't been able
to hack his voicemail,

his email,
or any online accounts.

Secretive, solitary...

He's just like you, Finch.

So how'd you get his number?

Well, John,
there's this machine...

Yeah, but you didn't
get it here.

No...

It's much more subtle
than that.

And it's time I knew

how the machine
communicates with you.

Why?

Not to be blunt,

but wouldn't you want me
to keep doing this

if something
ever happened to you?

If something ever happens,
I have...

A contingency.

Well, sooner or later,
you're gonna need

to let the cat
out of the bag, Finch.

Curiosity kills cats,
Mr. Reese.

Well, Finch, so far
the biggest threat to Peck

is a paper cut.

Any luck getting
more info on him?

It's gonna take more than luck.

The firm's firewall
is even better than Peck's.

Yeah, I've got line of sight
on his office,

but I can't get any signals
from his wi-fi or his cell.

He works in
the IQZ telecom building.

Financial firms like
to co-locate with internet hubs

so they can get their trades in
a few picoseconds faster.

If you're not getting a signal,

it's probably just interference
from IQZ's antennas.

Couldn't bluejack him, Finch,

so I went old school...
Wireless bug.

Alicia, it's Henry Peck...
Uh, again.

Listen, I really need
to talk to you,

so please just give me a call

and we'll find
a place to meet, okay?

Alicia... So who's Alicia?
An ex-girlfriend?

Or someone he wishes
was a girlfriend?

Mr. Peck!
You forgot to wipe your phone.

He has to wipe
his phone's memory?

It's become common practice

for executes
traveling overseas,

but that's the first time
I've heard of it here.

Sorry, I guess I'm just
a little distracted today.

Well, you work too hard.

I want to know
what goes on in Peck's office,

and since
we can't get signals out,

I'll have to charm my way in.

May I help you?

Yes, um...

John Rooney, assets.

- I have a meeting with...
- Thomas Brewster, CFA.

Tom Brewster.

I'm a tad early.

We just lost the feed
from our bug.

I don't have a record
of that meeting,

and I'm afraid
nobody's allowed back

without an appointment.

Perhaps you should reschedule.

Perhaps I should.

I'm surprised,
Mr. Reese.

That nice young lady
seemed somehow impervious

- to your charms.
- That nice young lady

had a .45 pointed at me
under her desk.

There's a guard and a spin lock
on the main door.

This isn't a financial firm.
It's a SCIF.

Sensitive compartmented
information facility.

Secret government installation

designed to protect
classified data.

Peck's no
financial analyst either.

He's a NOC, some kind of spy.

And you thought
he didn't have a life.

So how do we spy on a spy?

I believe I've found
a way in, Mr. Reese.

The security in Peck's office
blocks wireless signals,

but what about
good old-fashioned wires?

And since every office
runs on caffeine,

all we have to do

is hide a camera
and transceiver

inside a shiny new coffeemaker,

wire it to send data out
through the electrical system,

then wait for them
to plug it in.

Let me play that for you again.

Got a signal, Finch.

That's the voice
of Hassan Ben Amir.

I listened to him every day
when I was at Fort Meade.

Hassan is a major player,

funding terror
throughout the Middle East,

and if he's calling New York,
we need to pay attention.

Now, if you'll look
at these intercepts...

Peck's an intelligence analyst,

and from the sound of it,
a damn good one.

That's why they're
in a telecom building.

They can Jack into the feeds.

It's an NSA listening station.

I guess we'd better listen.

All right, Finch,
Peck just got home.

Time to see what
our spy does at night.

So far... Not much.

Not everyone is
a social butterfly, Mr. Reese.

For some of us,
human interaction is difficult.

Not calling it
"human interaction" might help.

Works around the clock,

no sign of friends or family...

Poor guy doesn't seem
to have much of a life.

Well, we can hardly
fault him for that,

seeing as everyone thinks
we're dead.

Mr. Peck.
Are you there?

Mr. Peck?

Mr. Chen?

Your landlord called
with a complaint.

You mind if we have
a look around, Mr. Peck?

What's this about?

I was wondering the same thing.

Well, apparently
your smoke detector

was malfunctioning today.

When Mr. chen entered
the apartment to fix it...

He saw these.

Adderall, felony weight.

What?
No, that's not mine.

We're sure they'll give you
a chance to explain it

down at the station.
Let's go.

Hold on. I'd rather have the
chance to explain it right here.

Well, Finch,
I think Peck's life

just got
a little more interesting.

- Finch?
- Feedback from the bug.

Something else must be
on the channel.

Trying to clean it...

It's the same signal.

There's another bug.
Someone else is listening.

Yeah, and I think
I've got eyes on him.

I think those drugs
were planted, Finch.

I think Peck's being set up.

Question is, why?

You ever buy 20 copies
of the same magazine, Carter?

- What?
- Never mind.

Do you have news?

Peck made bail
about an hour ago.

I got everything I could
on Henry Peck, which isn't much.

Only one charge on his record,
and Peck had that expunged.

Does he have
a history of drug abuse?

Not even close.
It was a speeding ticket.

He fought to get a speeding
ticket off his record?

It was "the principle
of the thing."

At least, that's what Peck said

in his meticulous, 78-page brief
he sent the judge.

Wow.

Got to love a man
who doesn't know when to quit.

- Thanks, Carter.
- Yep.

Well, Peck's no addict.
Somebody planted those drugs.

I visited the bodega

that's down the street
from Peck's office...

And chatted up
their wireless network,

downloading this video

of someone breaking into
his apartment.

I'm pretty sure that's
the same guy I saw last night.

Whoever he is,
he's well-trained.

Someone's targeting Peck.
We need to figure out why.

And until we figure out
who's after him...

I'll keep an eye on Peck.

Henry, we need to talk.

We know about the arrest
and drug problem.

There is no drug problem.

Under executive order 13526,

your security clearance is suspended,

pending investigation.

You're hereby placed
on administrative leave,

effective immediately.

- Please, sir, you can't just--
- I need you out, Henry.

As of this moment,
you can't work for the NSA.

In the seven years
I've worked here,

the strongest drug
I've taken is aspirin.

There's something else
going on here.

I'm being set up.

If you're alleging
some greater conspiracy here,

I can add that to your file,

but it might make you
seem unstable.

Question authority
and they call you crazy.

Peck's being forced out.

I don't know about you,
Mr. Reese,

but I'd very much like
to know why.

I'm sorry to keep calling,
but it's really important.

Please, I just need to speak
to Ted Gibbons, my--

Hello?

Recognize that name, Finch?

Theodore Gibbons,
deputy director of the NSA.

He's going over
his boss' head, way over.

Whatever Peck's into, it's big.

"Out of the country"?
Really?

Because some guy
at headquarters just told me

he was in a meeting.
Please.

Now, all I did
was ask questions.

Any decent analyst wou--
Hello?

Hello?

Someone is destroying Peck's
life for asking questions.

About what?

Finch, the security camera
over Peck's door,

was it working last night?

Yes. Why?

Because someone's
in his apartment.

What the hell?

Mr. Reese, is everything o--

I'll take that as a no.

Finch, I know a government
trained assassin when I see one.

They're not
just after Peck's job.

Someone in Washington
wants him dead.

Then we need
to protect him, Mr. Reese.

He can't have gotten far.

I'll use the bug
to track him down.

- Hello?
- Hi, Ted Gibbons please.

Hello?

Deputy director Gibbons,
my name is Henry Peck.

I work for you.

This is my daughter's
cell phone.

How did you get this number?

I'm sorry to bother you, sir,

but someone just tried
to kill me.

What?

Now, three weeks ago,
you called me off the record

to congratulate me
on a report that I submitted

that led to
the high-level arrest

of a man named Carlson,
but I never heard of a Carlson.

His name was in your report.

But I didn't put it there.

Someone slipped this name
into my report,

and that one name was the key

to stopping
a major terrorist attack.

All I did was ask questions.

I have been arrested,
I have lost my job,

and they're trying
to execute me,

and I just want to know why.

Don't ever call me again.

Everything okay, Finch?

I know who wants Peck dead
and I know why.

I know what he's been
asking questions about.

They want him dead
because of me.

Henry Peck doesn't know it,

but he's been asking
about the machine.

No.

Is something wrong, Alicia?

You mean other than being
a part of an ongoing conspiracy

to spy on
millions of Americans?

Yes, but it's all
for a good cause.

Day after tomorrow,
freight train out of Des Moines.

The last six cars, the manifest
will list the contents

as decommissioned
computer parts.

What about things on your end?

The facility is designed to
the specifications you gave us,

and it's discreet,
where we're putting it.

No one's going to go looking.

Any other problem?

Dissemination.

We have a protocol in place.

If the machine
identifies a suspect,

the name will find its way
to the right people...

With no way to trace the intel
back to the source.

There can't be.
Otherwise...

We'll all wind up someplace

where no one's
going to go looking.

Eight people in the world
know it exists.

We need to keep it that way.

Seven, Nathan.

Seven people,
unless you told someone.

Come on, Alicia,
you know I'm terrible at math.

The people on your end...

You sure about them?

Making sure no one
ever finds out

about the machine
is our problem.

We'll take care of it.

We've known each other
a long time, Alicia.

Something's got you rattled.

I'm fine, Nathan.

I'll be happier
when this thing is settled

and I can go back
to my day job.

And what's that exactly?

Classified.

You can buy me that drink now.

Yeah, Carter?

One of Peck's neighbors
called 911,

said they saw two men
fighting in his apartment.

Is everything okay?

The situation
has been resolved.

We're fine now, Detective.

Thank you.

Doesn't sound resolved to me.

So Peck asks
about your machine,

and now someone's
trying to kill him.

Something you want
to tell me, Finch?

As with all computer systems,

the big problem is human error.

Strictly speaking,
the machine is not legal.

I always knew
that certain measures

would be taken
to protect it, but...

But as I found out myself,

the people I've entrusted it
to are more...

Ruthless than I anticipated.

- Hello?
- Is this Peck?

Alicia Corwin?

Corwin?

That's the Alicia
he's trying to meet?

She worked for
the National Security Council.

Miss Corwin, are you there?

You've been looking for me?

Can we meet?

No.

Two months ago,
a report I wrote was changed

when it went
through your office,

but your office has been
shut down for more than a year.

Please, I just want to know
what's going on.

I just want my life back.

Sibilance.

Okay.

Is there anything else
you can tell me?

Run.

We need to stop him,
Mr. Reese.

From learning
more about the machine,

about Sibilance,
whatever that is.

We need to treat this
like an outbreak.

Peck is infected--

With an idea,
but infected all the same.

Anybody he talks to
can wind up dead,

and everything
that Peck uncovers

makes it that
much more impossible

for us to save his life.

So let's just get him
to a safe house.

It's not that simple.

He'll want to know who we are,

and knowing that
would put him closer

to finding out
about the machine.

Whatever we do to save Peck,

it must be without him
knowing that we exist.

Mr. Reese,
are you even listening?

Well, now we have
a bigger problem.

Peck found the bug,
and he just gave us the slip.

Peck's cashed out
his bank accounts.

His credit cards
are popping up at cheap hotels

and liquor stores
all over the city.

He's probably handing them out
to the homeless.

The NSA certainly taught him

how to scatter
a digital footprint.

Finch, are you getting
anything off Peck's phone?

Unfortunately, they taught him

how to brick
a cell phone as well.

The flash memory
is unrecoverable.

What can you tell us
about the people hunting him?

An elite squad,

probably a three-man team.

The guy I fought had a handgun
chambered for rifle ammunition,

so it shreds Kevlar.

Only one unit I know
gave those as standard issue...

Intelligence Support Activity,

an obscure army unit
that does black-ops so dark,

technically, they don't exist.

Guess we better
find Peck first.

They'll hunt him like I would,
start with his needs...

Sleep, a place to hide,
and a way to get information.

Cash-only hotels
with internet access.

There's been a complication.

The target's still in play.

That's not a complication.

That's failure.

- He has assistance.
- Who?

Unknown.
One of ours, I think,

or at least he used to be.

We've lost
the element of surprise

and the ability to make it
look like an accident.

What's the mandate?

Take the gloves off.

Get it done.

I've got a hit,
Mr. Reese,

a youth hostel
in hell's kitchen.

I can't be certain
he's still there,

but Peck definitely
used their computer.

He wasn't able to dig up
anything on Sibilance,

but he had good luck
finding a pinout

to hack the card reader
at his office.

I believe Mr. Peck is planning
to break into the NSA.

He's in.

So am I.

Then I'd very much
appreciate it

if you would stop Peck from
getting any more information

- that'll get him killed.
- Correct me if I'm wrong,

but if I take those reports,
he's gonna know I exist.

I recognize this is
a challenging situation,

but you have
to avoid direct contact.

Peck!

You're right, Mr. Reese.
It's a three-man team.

Two and half.

Hey, hey!

Hey, I just broke in
that building, okay?

You gonna arrest me?

What the hell's
the matter with you?

Hey, don't lose those.
That's evidence.

You're gonna want that
when I confess.

Relax, pal.
Soon as I read you your rights,

you can tell us everything.

Get your head down.

Finch?

You're not gonna like this.

Everything's in place.

Point-to-point transit
will take ten days.

Hope nothing goes wrong
in the rest of the world

in ten days.

Wait.

Do we have a contingency?

A contingency?

Alicia seemed...
Nervous.

Now, what do we do

if the government decides
to abuse this thing?

They're your contacts, Nathan.

They're just people.

The power that
this thing represents--

I mean, who would you
trust it with?

Besides you?
No one.

Which is why the machine
has been coded in such a way

that it cannot be abused.
It cannot even be accessed.

It upgrades itself,
maintains itself,

patches itself.

After tonight,
no one can alter it. Ever.

I used to be
a software engineer, Harold.

Remember, back before
I became your corporate beard?

Any system can be compromised,
given enough time.

We need an off switch,
a back door,

and this is our last chance
to build one.

You are a talented engineer,
Nathan,

so you should remember...

Any exploit is a total exploit.

The tiniest crack
becomes a flood.

If we build a back door
into this machine

and someone else
finds out about it,

that would be...
Very bad.

We need to trust the machine,
exactly as we built it,

and then let it go.

Car three to central.

Suspect in custody.

Subject's name is
Peck, Henry L.

We've got a BOLO on that guy.

Take him to Detective Carter
at the eighth.

Please just listen.
They've taken my job,

ruined my life.

Now I know why.
This is the proof.

These are six reports
I wrote for the NSA,

and six covert actions
based on those reports.

In each case, a single name
gets added to what I wrote,

and each time,
that name turns out to be

the key to stopping
a major terrorist attack.

Six for six.

The only way
to be that accurate

is with illegal surveillance
on a massive scale.

Then there's this,

"Sibilance" is
an internal audit

of the NSA intranet.
It's totally routine--

Until they find signals

hidden just beyond
the Shannon limit.

It should just be static,
but there was data.

Someone is sneaking
just as much data out

as the NSA is taking in.

To scan through all that,

you need an organization
ten times our size.

It's more
than any human--

Oh, my God,
they actually built it.

After 9/11,
the government wanted

a computer system--
A machine--

That could watch everyone
and everything,

catch terrorists
before they strike.

They tried with trailblazer,

TIA, stellar wind.
They-- they all failed.

But if I'm right,

then someone really
built the damn thing,

and it's watching us right now.

Okay, you want
a soda or something?

You just questioned my suspect?

Questioned your suspect?

Guy's in there talking
a blue streak all by himself.

Should be wearing
a tinfoil hat.

Gets arrested yesterday
for drugs,

tonight he throws
a bottle at a cop--

This guy's out of his mind.

We need to get you
out of here, Henry.

Who are you?

♪ Johnny's in America ♪

♪ no tricks at the wheel ♪

I suppose
we can count our blessings

Detective Fusco
isn't the inquisitive type.

But Peck's in
more danger than ever.

Seriously,
who the hell are you?

All Henry Peck did
was ask questions.

He deserves a normal life,

and if we have any hope
of giving it to him,

we have to destroy
all that evidence

and stop him
from getting any more.

Yes, my name is Henry Peck.

- I'm an analyst--
- Who did you just call?

The office of Special Counsel.

It's the agency
that protects whistleblowers.

Oh, I really wish you hadn't
let him do that, Mr. Reese.

The people who know
about the machine,

one of them works for
the office of Special Counsel.

What are you doing?

Our own government
is spying on us

and they want to kill me
to cover it up.

I have to tell someone!

The people you called
aren't who you think they are.

There's no one to tell.
No one is safe.

He just called us.

I'm sending
their last known coordinates.

That's all I need.

♪ Johnny's in America ♪

♪ I'm afraid of Americans ♪

♪ I'm afraid of the world ♪

Get down.

♪ I'm afraid I can't help it ♪

♪ I'm afraid I can't ♪

♪ I'm afraid of Americans ♪

♪ I'm afraid of the words ♪

♪ I'm afraid I can't help it ♪

♪ I'm afraid I can't ♪

♪ I'm afraid of Americans ♪

Do you know why
you were ordered to kill him?

Never asked.

- Okay, Peck,
let's get you out of--

This isn't over, Finch.

The man wrote 78 pages
to fight a speeding ticket.

I know.
He's not gonna give up.

And neither are the people
who know about the machine.

So what the hell
are we gonna do?

A good friend
once showed me that,

even with
an intractable problem,

one can still find a way
to do the right thing.

Your predecessors failed,

and now Peck's
reaching out to the press.

He's meeting
a reporter tomorrow.

I want you
to silence them both.

We'll be there.

You're not the reporter.

No. No, I'm not.
Oh, she's quite safe.

Right now,
my associate is dealing

with the assassins
who were sent to kill you both.

The answer
to your question is yes.

It exists.

And it's watching us right now.

I'm telling you this

because you remind me
a little of myself.

And I know that, if I were you,

I would keep asking
until I knew the truth.

So now you do.

Now stop asking the question.

Where is it?

How does it work?
I mean, the servers alone--

I know how you feel.

Your need to understand.

But believe me,
Mr. Peck,

this is a mystery
you do not want to solve.

Knowing the answer

has cost me something
I value more than my own life.

Clean passport, plane tickets,

a bank card to a well-funded
account in your new name.

Please, Mr. Peck,

for your own sake--
and quite frankly, for mine--

Go and live your life.
Find some secrets of your own.

And if you really
need a mystery,

I recommend the human heart.

How do you know all this?

Because I built it.

- Carter.
- Yeah?

That guy Peck who pulled
the disappearing act,

we just pulled his prints off
a burnt-out cab

with a john doe next to it.

What about Peck?
Any idea where he is now?

He's in the wind.

A bunch of paper
burned up in that cab.

All we could make out was this.

Hey, this HR deal's a lock.

We get three days to prepare.

Now we gonna do this or not?

We'll be ready.

I'll call you as soon
as I'm done here.

Yeah, right.

Like you'll ever be done
spying on Mr. Glasses.

Next time I see you,
I just might have his address.

John, your order's ready.

And you're here every day?

Hello, Finch.

Can I help you?

Sorry to bother you.

Detective Stills.

Someone reported
a disturbance at this address.

Really?
I'm the only one here.

Probably just an old lady
who saw a shadow

or a kid playing a joke.

We just have
to check everything out.

Do you want help with these?

Uh, sure. Thanks.

There must be
about 50 copies here.

You a collector?

Uh, kind of.

They send me extras
when it's one of mine.

You draw the covers.

Yeah.
A bit old-fashioned, I know.

Everything's going digital.
Print is dying.

But, uh, every time I think
I'll never work again,

another magazine
or newspaper calls, so...

Guess I have a guardian angel.

Who's this?

Um, that's Harold, my fiance.

Looks like a nice guy.

Yeah.

He's a very nice guy.

I never really thought
that I'd meet anyone who got me.

You know, spending all
your time alone, drawing,

isn't exactly
the best way to find someone.

But Harold found me.

I was painting
in the park one day,

and... There was this man,

eating an ice cream cone
in January.

And he smiled at me.

He asked me if I wanted one.

Does he live here with you?

No, he doesn't.

Um, he used to.

I lost him two years ago.

There was an accident.

I'm sorry.

Good location.

Clear line of sight,

but enough obstructions
and distance

to avoid being seen.

I built an app that alerts me

if I ever get
within 100 meters of her.

I've never regretted
building the machine.

But I didn't fully realize
the personal cost.

I'm good with computers.

People-- Well,
people other than Grace--

have always
been a mystery to me.

I failed to recognize

the lengths to which they would
go to protect the machine,

to control it.

By the time I realized it,
it was too late...

For me.

But not for her.

You see, Mr. Reese,

if knowing about the machine
is like a virus,

that makes me patient zero.

Simply being near me
was putting her life in danger.

I'm sorry.

I was lucky.

I had four years of...

Happiness.

Some people only get four days.

Please, Mr. Peck,
for your own sake--

and quite frankly,
for mine--

Go live your life.

Find some secrets of your own.

♪ God is an American ♪

And if you really
need a mystery,

I recommend the human heart.

How do you know all this?

♪ God is an American ♪

Because I built it.

♪ God is an American ♪

♪ God is an American ♪

Stay tuned for scenes
from our next episode.

Sync and corrections by n17t01
www.MY-SUBS.com