Original subtitles

Thank you.

How's the evening so far, sir?

Very good. Having a nice meal.

How many clues have you solved?

What's that?

The clues.

To the hidden treasure. How many have you solved?

I think you have the wrong person.

I know exactly who you are, Mr. Browning,

and as you are the executor of Warren Bostwick's estate,

I know what you have access to.

How many clues have you solved?

Excuse me.

How. Many. Clues.

None. I swear.

I-I wasn't allowed in the room when the will was read!

I-I tried to listen, but I didn't hear anything!

Argh!

I believe you.

Resync By M_I_S www.opensubtitles.org

- Harold. - Excuse me.

Why are you in my home at this hour?

This is not okay.

You're right. It's not. I understand that.

And under any other circumstances,

I wouldn't have imposed.

Did you sleep here?

A very quick catnap.

Just on the bench over there.

Truly, a half-hour at most,

and then the time it took to put together breakfast.

You see, I was at Mount Vernon, playing a very small part

in a Revolutionary War reenactment,

when I got to drinking quite late

with the 1st Delaware Regiment.

One thing led to another.

Those Blue Hen boys really know how to hold their whiskey.

What is going on with you? Do you even have a home anymore?

Please. Sit down, Harold. Have some coffee.

We've got business to discuss.

Like Robert Vesco?

Tell me that wasn't you that broke him out of prison.

I read he escaped from a hospital.

Just as well.

Prison's no place for a man

of Robert Vesco's stature or advanced age.

You realize that we have to track him down now and arrest him.

Well, you could do that, but you'll be leaving

three young women in mortal danger.

The Hyena is on the hunt.

A Blacklister?

Of the lowest order.

Are you familiar with Warren Bostwick?

New York hedge-fund titan. Died a couple years back.

- They say they never recovered his fortune. - Ah.

Last week, Bostwick's attorney

was found dead in the men's room at Benneker's.

What looked like a slip and fall

was really the work of the Hyena.

When professional thieves or white-collar criminals

are imprisoned,

their stolen goods are rarely recovered.

Do you know why?

They're too well-hidden.

Waiting for the felon's jail sentence to end

so they can be reclaimed.

And that's when the Hyena strikes.

A scavenger by nature, he sniffs out the hidden spoils

by shaking down family members and associates,

torturing them, murdering them.

Warren Bostwick may have played it

fast and loose in the market, but he was not a criminal.

No, but old Warren did leave behind a hidden fortune

worth hundreds of millions,

and the Hyena has caught the scent.

His real name is Sean Bane.

He uses extreme violence to hunt down what he's looking for,

and right now he's hunting the lost fortune of this man.

One week before his death,

Warren Bostwick liquidated his portfolio

and transferred his massive wealth into an unknown account.

To date, those funds haven't been recovered.

Bane is deviating from his usual MO

by targeting an innocent man's fortune.

Last week, he killed Bostwick's attorney.

His next logical target

would be Bostwick's three surviving daughters.

- Triplets? - Yes, and protecting them won't be easy.

Cordelia's in a remote village in Bolivia doing relief work,

Alex went off the grid eight months ago,

and Kendall's the only one we have a location on.

She was CFO of her father's company until his death.

She's now living in his Westchester mansion.

Sorry, but Wujing is amassing Blacklisters as we speak

to take down Reddington. I mean, why would he divert us

to babysit a bunch of rich women?

It doesn't matter. They're in danger.

Ressler, Dembe, meet with Kendall.

Agent Malik, I want you to reach out

to some of your international contacts,

see if you can track down the other two sisters.

Hello, Robert.

Mmm-hmm?

Comfy?

Hmm! I'm limper than a drunk jellyfish.

Ooh.

I haven't had a Turkish massage like that

since that hammam in Antalya.

Well, after a year in lockup, you deserve it.

Lunch from Mama's TOO! Will be here within the hour.

Hmm. Raymond...

I love the hospitality here,

but I feel like I'm being fattened up for a slaughter.

When does the axe fall?

There's no axe.

Hmm.

So, what gives?

First you bust me out of prison.

Now you're treating me like a hairy princess.

I've lost a lot of people, Robert.

If my circle of friends gets any smaller,

it won't be a circle.

I just want to fill my world with people I care about.

What a crock of crap.

You need me for a job or what?

I need you for a job.

Don Browning didn't trip and fall in that bathroom.

Your father's attorney was murdered.

We have strong reason to believe

there's a violent criminal chasing his fortune,

which puts you and your sisters in danger.

Forgive me, gentlemen, but you're beginning

to sound like the conspiracy nuts.

I mean, there are entire subreddits

devoted to the mystery of why Warren Bostwick

liquidated all of his holdings.

And what can you tell us about that?

How about I let my father tell you?

In my dwindling days here on Earth,

I've made a bleak discovery.

I may be a market genius, but I'm a lousy parent.

My three adult daughters

are just waiting for me to die so they can cash out.

I can feel that every time you visit me.

You three are strangers to me,

and barely sisters to each other.

That's why I'm leaving this video,

in hopes that I may do in death what I failed to do in life,

teach you to work hard and to work together.

It's the only way you'll ever see my money.

As part of his effort to make them earn their inheritance,

old Warren consolidated his assets into Bitcoin.

Some financial wizard.

He took a bath there, huh?

On the contrary.

Even after the market crash,

Warren's fortune has doubled since his death.

But more importantly,

all his crypto funds are stored in one location.

An anonymous digital wallet.

I've created a passcode for that wallet,

which I've split into three pieces.

At the end of this message,

I'm going to read you a poem I wrote.

The poem is a treasure map,

its lines filled with hidden clues

drawn from his personal life.

Solve the clues to reveal the passcodes

and access ungodly riches.

Have the three of you been able to solve any of the clues together?

Together was never an option.

No, I mean, I love my sisters, but they're free spirits.

They don't know how to hold onto money.

But when I find the funds, I'll provide for them.

As the eldest sister, it's my job.

Wait. The eldest? You're triplets.

And I'm the eldest by 12 minutes.

Who knows about the existence

of the clues and the hidden passcodes?

As far as I know, now that Don Browning is dead,

just myself and my sisters.

Can we get a copy of the poem?

Why? So you can become weekend treasure hunters?

I'm sorry, but I need to get back to work, agents.

Thank you for warning me of the danger.

Sorry, but we've been authorized to provide you

with a full-time FBI detail.

And I appreciate that offer, I do,

but I'm sure my security team

can handle any threats that find their way here.

Thank you.

For two years, Warren's own daughters

haven't figured it out.

What makes you think we can?

Well, we're men of a certain age who tippled with Warren

on many a balmy night in Mustique.

Robert, I'd venture to say

that you and I know far more details

of Warren's personal life than even his own daughters.

Well, what the hell? The girls had their chance.

Shall I read the first stanza of the poem?

You have it?

"To find the answer that you seek

you'll need to sit with Hemingway.

To Have or Have Not your desire.

Just stay until the sun's last ray."

How did you get ahold of that?

"To Have or Have Not."

Warren's daughter Kendall secretly paid a cryptanalyst

to comb thorough the entire boo for hidden cyphers.

That's how this whole affair came to my attention.

The cryptanalyst is one of my better-paid resources.

Oh. Hemingway.

Warren always struck me as more of a Faulkner guy.

You were struck correctly.

I once heard Warren call Hemingway "a drunk Neanderthal

who couldn't string six words together."

So he hated Hemingway.

But he loved his Arturo Fuente Hemingway cigars.

Ooh. Hand-rolled in the Dominican.

Always kept a box in the humidor in his study.

Robert, did you just solve a clue?

Well, maybe half a clue.

To figure out the rest, we need to find a way into Warren's study.

FBI. For Miss Bostwick.

Go up and see her if you want.

Miss Bostwick told you.

She doesn't require

any FBI protect...

Good evening, Miss Bostwick.

It's time you and I had a friendly chat.

I arrived at 7:00 a.m. for my shift,

and her body was cold when I found it hanging here,

and I called you straight away.

Was there a night guard here?

Jimmy. He's always here when I check in,

but this morning, there was no sign of him.

I guess Kendall sent him out so she could, uh...

Look, why don't you write down his cellphone number

and address for me, huh?

Alright.

M.E. says he can't determine a cause of death

until after the autopsy.

Don't need an M.E. to tell me what happened here.

This wasn't a suicide.

The Hyena is working his way through the sisters.

Yeah, well, we need to find the other two,

and their protection's a priority now.

Malik's reaching out to the relief organization

that Cordelia works for. They're getting word to her.

What about Alex? The one who's off the grid?

- We have any info on her? - I know where Alex lives.

I've driven Kendall to her building in Hoboken lots of times.

A rich Bostwick daughter lives here?

Urban off-the-grid living. It's a thing.

Well, if she's here, she knows we're here.

- Who are you? - Alex Bostwick?

I said, who are you?

Agent Ressler, FBI. This is Agent Zuma.

We need to speak to you about your sister Kendall.

They got to Kendall?

Her body was found hanging in the study.

We have cause to believe she was murdered.

I'm sorry.

You said "they." Who are "they"?

I don't know! I don't know!

They... I mean, I'm trying to find them, too.

They hide in the Internet of Things.

It's my father's fortune that they want, so they hunt me down.

Just buzzing bugs in the machine

and in my mics, my webcams, my brain.

I thought... I thought Siri was my friend,

but, no, I mean, wherever I go, they find me,

and now, what, they got... They got to Kendall.

We don't want to cause you alarm,

but the man who got to your sister,

he's coming after you, too.

We want to offer you some protection.

Can we come inside?

Oh...

I'm sure you'd love to come inside

and find out what I know, huh?

You... You are just like them.

Or maybe you even are them.

That's it. That's it.

Oh, what the Feds would love to do with Daddy's money.

She's really not well.

We need to put surveillance on this building immediately.

Whether she wants it or not.

Ah. Almost there.

Now, if I recall, Warren's lair is to the right here.

Yeah.

Ah.

Hemingways.

Robert, you called it.

So, now what?

"To find the answer that you seek,

you'll need to sit with Hemingway."

Don't have to ask me twice.

Mmm.

Well, it's kind of batty, isn't it?

I mean, sending your own kids on a scavenger hunt

to claim their inheritance.

I don't know, Robert.

Who's to say how one might feel at the time of their death?

Warren may have felt amused, mischievous,

or maybe just hopeful.

Better that than fear or pain or regret.

At the moment of my death, I just want to feel alive.

- Agent Malik. Hi. - This is Cordelia Bostwick.

Thank you for getting back to me, Ms. Bostwick.

First of all, I'm so sorry about your sister.

They told me you got the news this morning?

Yeah. It's been a challenging day, that's for sure.

But, uh, you know, this is just gonna take some time to process.

Of course, and I don't want to make that any harder,

but I need to let you know that your safety is in jeopardy.

There's a dangerous man after you and your sister,

and he will find his way to you.

In... In Bolivia?

He's chasing your father's money.

So, you... You want me to come to where a killer is?

We have no way to keep you safe if you don't.

If you're here, we can assign you

a full-time protective detail in an FBI safe house.

Okay. Um, yeah, I mean, I'm...

I'm planning to come back for the funeral, anyway,

so just... Just give me the details.

Hmm.

Well, the Hemingway's almost dead.

I'm nubbing it here, bud.

How is this supposed to solve a clue?

Trust the poem.

"To Have or Have Not your desire,

just stay until the sun's last ray."

- It's still light out. - Yeah. Barely.

If we're gonna do more cigars, I need better light to see.

Ah.

Raymond.

Does that look like "the sun's last ray" to you?

I'll bet that's a Handel lamp.

Hand-painted.

Take a look under the rim.

H-A-N-D-E-L.

Ah.

Oh, there's a model number, too.

6160. W.R. What's that?

That's the craftsman's initials.

Oh.

Put it all together...

It's a hidden passcode!

I'll be damned.

So, you sit with the Hemingway cigar until the sun goes down,

prompting you to turn on the lamp,

revealing the hidden passcode.

Not bad.

Not bad?

Come on. Read the next clue.

I'm feeling lucky!

Alright.

"You can't define its radiance.

You love it irresistibly.

So find the stone I speak of.

And whisper to it softly."

A radiant stone.

Irresistible. Uh...

Like a gemstone?

No.

Warren wasn't impressed by precious gems.

Terrible investments. Too easy to lose or steal.

In fact, he once told me the only diamond he ever bought

was the one he put on Marilyn's finger.

Right there!

And immediately after buying it, Warren had the diamond itself

laser-engraved with a miniature code so small,

it can only be seen by microscope,

so if the ring were ever stolen, he could prove it was hers.

That's vintage Warren.

He engraved everything he owned. Remember?

Fountain pens. Golf clubs.

Even his racehorse. Tattooed its ear.

What are the chances

that invisible engraving in Marilyn's diamond ring

is the next piece of the passcode?

Fits the clue.

But where's the stone?

Marilyn died in childbirth.

Hope he didn't bury it with her.

He didn't. Look here.

I'll be.

I believe that's Alex, the oddest duck in the brood.

- Warren must have passed the ring down to her. - Mmm-hmm.

This young woman

is wearing the answer to our next clue.

I love a diamond heist.

We got a hit from one of the area motels

where I circulated photos of Bane.

He checked out 40 minutes ago, driving a white Chevy van

with stolen tags,

carrying what looked like a tool belt.

- Was that the only sighting? - For the moment.

We just issued a BOLO

and added the plate to the ALPR hot list.

If we get an alert, we'll let you know.

I'm leaving for JFK now to meet the third sister

and escort her to the safe house.

Be careful out there. All of you.

Tadashi, any luck finding her address?

Luck? No.

Skill? Ya boy!

Before Alex Bostwick went off the grid,

she was a heavy social-media user,

but last year, she went full digital detox,

with one exception.

Two weeks ago, she accidentally posted

to one of her dormant accounts.

She wrote to a user named MadlRC.

I located him in an obscure chat room,

where I lurked until Alex joined

under the user name OptimisticPanda.

That gave me her IP address, and from there,

it was a hop skip to her geodata.

What'd he just say?

We have her address.

But Alex won't just open her door for us.

If we want to get inside

and find her mother's diamond ring,

we need an angle.

- Hmm. - That's easy.

Alex has devolved into a conspiracy freak.

Based on her discussions in the chat room,

she's convinced that she's being monitored

by ultrasonic listening devices.

She's just paranoid.

She's been chasing that fortune for two years!

Alex contacted MadlRC because he claims to have invented

an Exotic Modulation Detector

to sniff out ultrasonic surveillance.

- Did he? - No way!

Well, whether he's invented anything real or not,

MadlRC has invented an alter ego.

Perhaps we can employ the ingenious MadlRC

for our purposes anyway.

Yes.

MadlRC is just an archetype for a character,

waiting for the right actor to step inside

and breathe life into the role.

You don't know anything about ultrasonic surveillance.

I have Tadashi here to coach me.

We'll see.

Tadashi, can you send a private message to Alex

and make it look like it's from MadlRC?

We should set up a meeting.

Ugh. Yeah. I was afraid something like this would happen. Eventually.

I mean, with all that hidden money out there,

you know, it was only a matter of time before

word got out that we were given clues to find it.

What about you?

Did you try finding it?

Sure. I mean, after we watched his video,

I wanted the three of us to work together.

It's what my father intended

by writing that stupid poem,

and I thought it would give us the best shot at solving it.

I gather that's not what happened.

Oh, no. The claws came out. Like always.

Kendall tried to take control of us.

I guess, I don't know. She thought it was her role as CFO in the company.

Poor Alex just started showing strain

under the pressure of it all right away and just...

crawled into her own shell.

So you walked away?

That's right.

My father left each of us modest trust funds,

and it was enough to get by on.

But I really don't want any part of his wealth now.

I've just seen what it does to people.

Well, we've got a couple leads on our target,

so hopefully we can get you back to your relief work soon.

We're driving to a safe house in Flatbush,

where two agents will provide full-time protection.

Okay.

Oh. I'm starving. What took so long?

Eh, long lines, long lines.

Here you go.

Wait. These are French fries. I ordered onion rings.

Well, I told them onion rings.

They must've made a mistake on the order.

Yeah, but you have onion rings.

Yes. They got my order right.

Hey.

Somebody's coming.

I knew it! Reddington just gave us this case

to take out the competition.

I'm not standing by this time. I'm going to arrest Vesco.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

If the Hyena is out there right now,

watching this building,

you'll just alert him to our presence.

Keeping the sisters safe is what matters.

I have some bad news for you.

The Feds are sitting on Alex's building.

We have a new player in the game.

Raymond Reddington, the FBI's Most Wanted man,

just walked inside.

Ah. Okay. Um, excuse me, gentlemen.

Yeah. How did this happen?

I don't know.

Okay, well, um, we only have two parts of the passcode,

so we need to find out what Alex knows.

Can you, um... Can you get her out of there?

I'll figure something out.

Uh, without killing her this time?

Hey! I did you a favor by taking out Kendall.

She suspected you.

Just get Alex out and bring her to me.

You keep Alex interested,

and I'll look for her mother's diamond ring.

Hopefully it's still on Alex's finger.

Have you stopped to consider that if we find this fortune,

we'll be robbing three young ladies of their inheritance?

Pish posh. I told you,

Warren thought his daughters were a disaster.

Mmm.

Hey. Do you remember the password exchange?

I wrote the password exchange.

Hello?

I have no mouth and I must scream.

Great souls suffer in silence.

MadlRC. Hi. Hi.

Uh, come in. Come in.

Come in.

Hi. Um, I'm... I'm Alex...

Oh, shh, child. No birth names.

It's safer that way.

Ah, yes. No, yes. You're right. Of course.

Our... Our personal data is all we have.

It must be protected at all costs.

Precisely why I invented the EMD.

The Exotic Modulation Detector.

Yeah. I know. And... Here... Here, come in.

Um, you know, I need additional security solutions.

The standard sweep tools aren't enough.

And now that they can turn all of our technology,

even our lights, into audio transmitters,

it's just, nobody's safe.

Slow down, OptimisticPanda.

Uh, one step at a time.

First, I'd like you to meet my associate.

Oh. Yes. Uh, CosmicMuffin.

To determine whether my EMD

can detect emanating light fields here,

CosmicMuffin needs to conduct a search first.

- Sorry. What... - Eh, purely visual.

Okay. Okay. Uh, yeah, what... What's he looking for?

Oh, any objects that might interfere

with the EMD's signal reception.

- Like what? - Certain metals. Alloys.

But the worst are crystals.

You can't have any crystals with a mineral base inside your home,

like rubies, emeralds, diamonds.

I don't... I don't own any gemstones.

You sure about that?

Most women have at least one piece of jewelry lying around.

An old necklace. A diamond ring.

Yeah, I mean, I used to own jewelry,

but, yeah, I sold it all to finance a personal project.

I even had to sell my mother's wedding ring.

So no diamonds?

Hello, you.

Yeah, Diamond was, um, my father's best friend,

and he knew how much I loved her.

I can get a little, um, activated sometimes,

and so my shrink says that a service animal can help.

She used to say that, but I fired her

because she had something pretty suspicious

hiding in her Prada glasses.

I'm just gonna finish my search.

So, as I was saying,

the EMD is a very special thing because without it...

We were looking for the wrong Diamond, weren't we?

Yes...

Old Warren tagged his racehorse.

Why not you, too?

I'm supposed to "whisper to you softly."

Look at that.

...entitlements are nothing more

than socialism in action.

Uh, anyone want more coffee?

We all live in America. We all...

We rely on a steady flow of coffee for this job.

Yeah. I bet you do.

- Thank you. - You're welcome!

Well, I'd say after a cursory glance around

that we're done here.

- I've seen everything I need to see. - Ah.

Uh, okay. What... What... What does that mean?

C-Can you still sell me the EMD?

I have money. I wanted to pay you for it.

There's something I've been keeping from you.

We're not the only ones hunting this fortune.

What?! You're loo... You're looking for the money?

Ugh! I cannot believe I let you in.

I mean, who... Who are you? How did you even find me?

She'll be okay, but we can't be here.

- I'll meet you downstairs. - Okay.

Power's been cut. The Hyena is here.

She needs protection. Hurry.

Did Bane get here first?

I don't believe so. Take a look at this.

Looks like an old garbage chute.

Your sister Cordelia told me about your little escape route.

Very eager to hear what you've learned about the treasure.

We lost Alex. We think the Hyena has her.

- Unless Reddington has her. - Reddington?

Yeah, he was here, along with Vesco, too.

You know those two frauds are chasing the missing fortune, too?

- Sir! - Hold on, Agent Ressler.

NYC DOT just got a traffic-cam hit on Bane's white van.

It's moving east on Avenue D toward Flatbush.

That's the neighborhood where I dropped off Cordelia.

It's where the safe house is.

The Hyena's got one sister. Now he's going after the other.

Did you call her protective detail?

Yes, and no one's answering.

Agent Ressler, you and Agent Zuma get to that safe house.

I'll try and reach Reddington.

Copy.

You didn't think that I might want to know

that there's a homicidal maniac on the same treasure hunt as us?

I didn't want to make you anxious.

Well, I'm anxious now.

What about Alex? You think she got away?

I sent in reinforcements.

And since when are you worried about a mark, anyway?

You've made a life of preying on impressionable minds.

Yeah, sure, when they're functional minds.

But Alex, I don't know. I mean, this poor kid.

She's not dealing from a full deck.

Here. Read this. The last stanza.

Let's stay focused here.

"Every story much reach an end.

Such sadness that it doth impart.

To finish mine, drop to a knee

and read what's carved upon my heart."

- Well, that's grim. - Indeed.

"Read what's carved upon my heart"?

You don't think Warren literally, you know...

What, carved the passcode onto his heart?

Robert, please stay with me here.

Though I wouldn't be survived if one of those sisters

had exhumed his body by now to check.

No, I have a feeling the true hint

lies in the first half of the stanza.

I'm certain of it.

We need to locate Warren's grave.

What is happening? Why... Why are we here?

Oh, my God.

Ah. It's been a while, sis. I'm, um...

I'm really sorry we pulled you out of your shelter.

I know how safe you feel there, but, um...

Forces are closing in around us.

I need to know if you've solved any of the clues.

You? Did you kill Kendall?

That wasn't supposed to happen.

- Okay, but it did. - I tried, okay?

I-I am the one who wanted us all to work together

to do this the way that our father asked,

but Kendall insisted on doing it her way, and you just...

Alex, you just crawled into a hole.

Okay, well, now we're doing it my way.

You'll want to leave the room in this next part.

Okay.

Well, if you want it so badly that you'd kill Kendall, what's the point?

It was tattooed inside Diamond's ear.

The stone was the dog. Of course.

"You can't define its radiance. You love it irresistibly."

That's exactly how Daddy felt about that dumb animal.

- She's not dumb. - I know. I know, Alex.

I know you love her as much as Daddy did.

And Daddy tailored each of these clues to each one of us.

I mean, our best chance at solving the poem

was for us to work together.

Yeah, well, that's a little hard to do with a dead sister.

We're done here, right? We have all three clues.

Time to cash out.

No. No, no, no. Not yet.

If Raymond Reddington is as much of a threat as you say he is,

then I need to destroy the answer to the third clue before he finds it.

Oh, and, um, you know...

I'm, uh, coming around to what you said about Kendall.

We just... We really can't afford

to leave any witnesses behind.

Cordelia. Don't. Cordelia.

Which, uh... Which one of you is Reddington?

- He is. - He is.

It doesn't matter.

You're too late.

I destroyed the answer to the third clue.

It would appear you and the Hyena

make quite a formidable pair.

You know he's still going to kill you, right?

The moment you withdraw those funds.

I wouldn't count on that.

He's still alive.

But Bane's not.

- Are you okay? - Yeah.

Where's your sister? I-I don't know. She...

She told me to wait here until she gets back.

She says we're gonna be a family again.

You, uh, figured it out, huh?

The epitaph on my father's grave.

The final piece of the passcode.

I mean, I knew the answer because he ordered his tomb

before he died and I paid all of his bills.

The final stanza said drop to a knee

and "read what's carved upon my heart."

This inlay on his monument is made of rose quartz.

It's one of the heart chakras.

Your interpretation of the clue...

A bit simplistic, don't you think?

Why? What... What... What are you talking about?

You're conveniently neglecting the first half of the stanza.

"Every story must reach an end.

Such sadness that it doth impart."

Do you know what made your father sad?

My father was not a feeling man.

On the contrary.

One afternoon, he and I were anchored off Carriacou,

sitting on the bow of his yacht,

when he shared with me the key to his financial success.

It was the sadness he felt over the loss of your mother.

What drove him to make

all that money you're so desperate for

was a desire to dull the pain deep inside.

But all the riches in the world

couldn't fill the hole that your mother left in his life.

She was his heart, not some silly chakra.

Your mother's body lies right here beside your father,

beneath a simple grave marker,

because he wasn't a wealthy man when she passed.

Ah! Look.

What do you know? There's an epitaph.

The answer to your father's clue.

What does it say?

Ow! You shot me in the foot!

We've got what we need here. You ready to go?

Hold on. We can't just leave her here

- with the final piece of the puzzle. - Don't worry.

I have a cleanup crew on standby to pick up the trash.

Oh.

Okay, I've strung together the three passcodes

and entered them into the login page

for Bostwick's digital wallet.

Ta-da! Shi.

Well done, Tadashi.

That's a healthy balance.

Wait. There's something else in his wallet.

It's an NFT.

Non-fungible token. This one's a video file.

Is that what the kids call a TikTok?

- I think that's a Chatsnap. - Huh.

Stop. I-I'm gonna open the file.

Congratulations, girls.

In solving all three clues,

you've taken a journey into your old man's heart.

A fine cigar.

A faithful pet.

And the love of a good woman. Your mother.

That's what sustained me in life, even after her death.

I'm sorry I wasn't there more for you girls.

It's a great failing, and I do regret it.

But in earning your inheritance,

you overcame your differences and pulled together,

just as I knew you would.

Hopefully, if this experience has taught you one thing,

it's what's really important.

The meaning of family.

Enjoy your money, girls.

You deserve everything you got.

A tragic tale, no doubt.

Hmm.

But at least it brought us together, my friend.

Yeah. I'm still waiting for that axe to fall.

There is no axe, Robert.

Tadashi, transfer half of Warren's cryptocurrency

into Robert's account.

Eh, actually, I was thinking

that one-third might be more appropriate for the situation.

Why, Robert, you do have a heartbeat after all.

Do I need to buy a blow-up mattress?

I know you have questions, Harold,

about jailbreaks and Robert Vesco,

hidden fortunes.

Fire away.

Actually, no. I don't have any questions.

At this point in our relationship,

after 200-some-odd Blacklisters,

I'm aware of your games,

and nothing you do surprises me anymore.

If that's the case, perhaps you'll honor my request

to stay away from Robert Vesco.

Why's that?

I can't be certain, but I may need some... help.

The sort of help the task force cannot provide.

I'll consider the request.

By the way, who walked away the winner?

- What's that? - Bostwick's riches. You and Vesco.

Who screwed over who this time?

Oh, that's all behind us, Harold.

We've had our ups and downs, Robert and I,

but he's an old friend,

and our days of betrayal are thankfully a thing of the past.

Hmm.

Robert Vesco.

I already placed my annual order for Girl Scout cookies.

Tell your story walking.

I represent Mr. Wujing.

He was given your information by Marvin Gerard,

the late attorney for Raymond Reddington.

What if I told you your arrest by the FBI last year

wasn't bad luck?

It was a plan.

Formulated and orchestrated by Raymond Reddington.

You walked into his trap.

Why would Reddington do that?

If you want to learn more,

call this number when you're ready,

and we'll send a car.

Mr. Wujing looks forward to discussing

your shared interests.