All language subtitles for NCIS.Sydney.S01E08.Blonde.Ambition.720p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H.264-NTb

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?