All language subtitles for Scorpion - 2x02 - Cuba Libre.HDTV.x264-DIMENSION.en

Walter, listen to
reason-- You're facing charges

of improper operation
of a motor vehicle,

destruction
of private property,

and costing the county
six figures to rescue you

from a cliff-side Ferrari.

The city of L.A. did not
rescue me-- it was Cabe Gallo.

Less is more in court.

As your counsel,
I am begging you,

just present this plea.

"On the date in question,
I, Walter Patrick O'Brien,

"was driving negligently
as a result of being

"in an overly emotional state,
and hence,

the accident..."
That was not me.

That's not what happened.
I've talked

to your coworkers--
you got in a fight with her,

raced out, drove like a maniac...

I was driving a high-
performance sports car

when a coyote...
That you would have missed

if you'd been
in a proper state of mind.

I was just driving fast--
I was not emotional.

Come on, Walter.
If you state you were

just driving fast
for the hell of it,

then you're reckless,
not negligent-- reckless

carries 90 days in jail.

I do not get emotional

to that extent.

I will only state facts.

I will not lie in court.
Well, you have until night court

at 8:00 this evening
to reconsider,

or you're in an orange
jumper before bedtime.

And that, Mr. O'Brien,
is a fact.

♪ ♪

Since Happy sidelined me,
I'm bored as all get-out.

In! 22 of 23.

Oh.

What's that?

"I value our relationship.

You're a dear friend.
Best, Sylvester Dodd."

This is sadder than Old Yeller.

I'm telling Megan how I feel.

Then it should read:
I feel lame.

I've read hotter
sympathy cards.

You seriously need help.

Hey, how'd it
go up there?

Don't ask.

I have complete control
of my legal affairs.

Everything is fine.

Try to talk
some sense into him.

If this doesn't
get resolved, Walter could face

jail time-- my anxiety levels
are rising, guys.

My God, that's it--
anxiety levels!

I'm gonna fix
your romance problems

by manipulating
your anxiety levels.

I don't have romance problems.
And I don't have

incredible dance moves.
Now, since my calendar

is apparently wide open,
thanks to Ms. Quinn,

you're my new project.
No, thank you.

When I'm done, you'll be
a regular honey-dripper.

I am gonna crank your
stress levels up to a 20

on a scale of one to ten--
it's exposure therapy.

I don't think I'd like that.
When you go

back down to an anxiety level
of ten, it's gonna feel

like a one, and you'll be
pitching woo like Valentino.

Have I ever lied to you?

All of the time.

Excuse me.

How can we help you?

I can't believe it's you.

It's been so long.

I'm sorry, do...
do we know each other?

50 bucks on love child.

I'm Sonia Balasevic.

You saved my life.

It's been 20 years.

20... That's a lot
of back child support.

FBI sent me to Croatia

to take witness statements

for genocide tribunals
against Milosevic's men.

They killed hundreds of
thousands of my people.

Including my parents.

Camps overflowed
with injured children.

I saw Sonia--
in all that hell,

the only kid
with a smile left in her.

I couldn't let her

wind up in some orphanage.

Orphanages suck.

Made a few calls,

found an Italian couple
that worked

at the U.S. consulate in Rome

who wanted to adopt.

I greased the wheels.

And he saved me.

Three days after I met him,
he put me on a jeep,

kissed my forehead
and sent me off

to a better life--

but not before
giving me this.

You never mentioned

you got a Silver Star.

Men don't talk
about their medals.

The translator told me that
Cabe got it for bravery,

and that he wanted me to
have it because I was brave.

That's why I'm here now.

I went to The Hague,
Interpol--

no one will help.
Then I think,

go find the bravest
man you know.

Exactly what help
do you need, Sonia?

24 of the top
Serbian war criminals--

never found.

They've run for decades,
thanks to "Ratline""

a network of resources

that lets them hide
around the world.

I've dedicated my life
to tracking them--

and I know where one of them is.

Stanislav Zoric--
he killed my family.

General Zoric is
a munitions expert.

Constantly changes

his appearance,
uses fake identities,

moves often.

I saw those mass graves.

I never stopped thinking
about those bastards, either.

Good. 'Cause I know
how to get him.

He has the Ratline--

I have the Survivors
Hopeline--

genocide victims
around the world

sharing information.

Last week, one sent me

a photo of Zoric
in Havana.

But The Hague won't help.

Well, the photo's blurry.

I know the man who
massacred my village,

but The Hague won't issue
an international warrant

without a DNA match
proving it's him.

Well, a contact

got me Zoric's
bloodstained uniform

from the Sarajevo
Historical Society.

We get the
DNA sample,

match it-- he faces justice.

As do the 23 other men

who are still hiding.

How does catching Zoric
catch them?

It's rumored he carries
an encrypted electronic ledger

containing aliases
of the other 23.

Safe houses,

bank accounts,
contacts for fake passports.

Better move fast, Sonia.

Running
a complete genome sequence

takes days under
ideal circumstances.

And if Zoric suspects
he's been made,

he'll be on the
move again soon.

This only works if we amp up
the standard sequencer algorithm

and put it in a device that
runs that DNA test in seconds.

Sylvester and I could code that

in two hours.

I could build the device
in an hour.

I could vomit right now.
Are you suggesting we consider

extracting
a dangerous war criminal

from a Communist nation?

That's what I'm suggesting, yes.

♪ ♪

That was the girl's village.

The man who gave the order
was Zoric.

He made scores of these
propaganda films.

Homeland's well aware of Zoric
and his cronies, but...

the bottom line is
the U.S. government

will not support a mission
to capture these men

with nothing more to go on

than an out-of-focus photo
and her memory.

Come on, Director,
we can find two dozen

of these war
criminals--

but not without your support.

I understand the situation,

and I am...
not without sympathy.

Unfortunately,
there is nothing

for Homeland to do.

There are
Cuban nationals--

double agents--
our friends

for the right price.

They can get the
sample for you.

The Hague'll want a blood
sample-- no skin, no hair,

nothing that could be compromised by
cosmetic chemicals.

Now, you test that
blood in your device,

contact The Hague, and
get the arrest warrant.

The Cubans will
take care of Zoric,

his ledger and
your backsides.

Get the hell out
of there, because--

and I cannot stress
this enough--

if you are caught
on Cuban soil

operating a quasi-
governmental extraction

without permission,
the U.S. government

will deny any knowledge
of this operation.

I will say you acted alone,
and you will be abandoned.

They can't have an international
incident on their hands

when the White House is trying
to repair relations with Castro.

I'm gonna owe you big
for this, aren't I?

Absolutely.

And I collect on my favors.

Also, I really don't like
what I saw in this video.

Okay, but how

are we gonna get in and out
of Cuba without authorization?

I know a guy.

So how do you know
Agent Molina?

She prosecuted me
for drug running.

I turned state's, so I only
served, like, three years.

Very classy lady.

Sly's gonna love this.

The guy flying this
30-year-old bucket of bolts?

A drug felon.

Embrace level 15, pal.

How's it going?

Hardware's almost done.

I've got this code
turbocharged.

We use a nanopore
sequence technique,

pump up the DNA unzip,
and then we should know

if the suspect is Zoric
within 6.2 seconds.

That's scientific.
Makes me wonder

why someone so logical
would agree to take

such a dangerous case that isn't
even supported by Homeland.

Well, it's pure logic.

100,000 people
killed by 24 bad men--

logic dictates that if
the bad men can be caught,

then the greater
good advances.

It's 100,000
versus one, Paige.

It simple math.

You know, you apply
your theories selectively,

because if you followed
logic, you would have

just admitted to your lawyer
that you acted emotionally

and you would take the plea.
You cannot state non-facts.

Well, I-I think
you're denying facts.

Agree to disagree.

Your friend's
wound tighter

than a snare drum--
if she doesn't keep her cool,

we'll all wind up guests

of the Castro brothers forever.
That's why you're here.

You keep her level.

You apply your
theory selectively.

You say that I lack emotion,
but she's too emotional

and both are a problem--
you're inconsistent.

Well, agree to disagree.

Drop?

Don't you mean "land"?

Drug runners

don't land-- we make drops!

We're only 20 feet above the water.
Ten seconds!

Waterproof bag!
Get your gear in!

Hey, uh,
I don't see any parachutes.

You knew we were gonna jump
and you didn't tell me?

Well, if I did,
you wouldn't have come.

Don't worry.

We bought you
a change of clothes.

It's like jumping off
a really high diving board

that's going
a hundred miles an hour.

Exposure therapy!

Yahoo!

Go!

Go.

Paige.

I'm not going!

I can't do this!

You go without me!
Son,

have I ever put you
in an unsafe situation?

All the time.

Then you should be used to it!
No, no, no, no, no, no!

♪ Scorpion 2x02 ♪
Cuba Libre
Original Air Date on September 28, 2015

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man

Oh, I've got sand

in my pants.

Me, too.
Kind of like it.

No.

Feels like...
I'm wearing a snow globe.

♪ ♪

What?

Hmm? Nothing. Just glad
that everyone's... okay.

That was... harrowing.

Thanks.

We got company!

Everybody just stay cool.

Okay...

nobody move.

By the authority of the National

Revolutionary
Police Force,

you are hereby all under arrest.

We're just lost, friend.

Lost? Or infiltrating

my motherland
without permission?

We're the contact
Agent Molina set up, huh?

I'm Alfonso.
I'm just messing with you.

Welcome to Cuba, amigos.

Oh, God.

- Now I have more than sand in my pants.
- I hope

you plan on taking the rest
of this mission more seriously.

Relax. Relax.

We have been trailing Zoric
ever since Molina called.

How will you extract his blood?
We follow him,

we bump him with a cane that
has a small needle on it.

We prick the blood. Zoric just
thinks the cane banged his foot.

You take the DNA,
you test it

while we keep him in sight

and you do your thing
with our little machine.

Call The Hague,
we'll get an immediate warrant.

Uh-huh. My men
will grab him,

take him to a plane,
you're on your way home.

And with the time difference,
you'll be back for supper.

♪ ♪

Okay, we've got the comms
set up-- do you copy?

We copy.

Everything set up over there?

We have eyes out
on Alfonso and his boys

across the street.

As soon as they get the
sample, Walter runs it,

you call The Hague
for the warrant.

Any sign of Zoric?

Not yet.

But the Cubans' Intel

puts him in the area.

Sonia, I know you're anxious,

but I want you to
know I want this guy

almost as much as you do.

Is that him?

With no security, no guards?

War criminals on the run--
they travel light.

They don't want to
draw attention.

One of the Cubans is getting out
of the back seat.

They must think
that's our guy, too.

Walter?!

Cabe, what's happening?

Do you copy? What is happening?

- Are you guys okay?
- Not really.

There was an explosion.

Car just blew up.

Zoric must've known
he was being followed.

Our contacts--

they're all dead.

What about Zoric?
Where's Zoric?!

I'm sorry, Sonia.
He disappeared.

Zoric must've planted the bomb.

He's a munitions expert.

It's not like he hasn't
built explosives before.

This is why
I don't leave America.

Do you know what'll happen to us
if we get blamed for that bomb?

There's no way

- to connect us to those murders.
- Bigger issue.

We're in a dictatorship
with 1955 technology.

Whole county
runs on 200 mbps

for 11 million people.

I get 300 in my apartment.

The tech here is
practically unusable.

It's definitely unhackable.

He's right.
We're mortals here.

It's like the whole island
is Kryptonite.

Adriana's a woman
of her word.

We're on our own.

In seven hours,
that pilot will be waiting

in a field a few
miles from here.

If we miss that flight,

we have no way back.

But we're still
after Zoric, right?

There's still time to catch him.
But how?

We were only supposed
to use our software

and our devices
to test the DNA.

To actually go in and
gather the sample--

it's a whole new magilla.

Then we come up
with a new plan!

We came here to do a job. We're
not leaving until it's finished.

We're gonna

capture Zoric, I promise.

First thing we gotta do

is figure out how
to track him down.

For that, we'll need wheels.

I'll go steal us a van.

For whoever you rob.

I hope you
like plantains.

It's pretty much the entire
menu at a Cuban prison.

I'm at a 20, okay?
Oh, not even close.

I'm sorry, pal-- I gotta
be cruel to be kind.

Other times, I think I'm close
to finding him, he ties

loose ends, and he's off to
another country within 48 hours.

- We must move fast!
- Hey, you got to get

the lay of the land
here in Havana so

we know what we're working with.

Are you kidding me?
This is slower than dial-up.

For Pete's sake!
What's he doing?

Memorizing the Cuba
Reference Guide.

Okay, done.

Havana has 15 districts,

subdivided in 105 wards.

He could be anywhere.

Oh, a guy like Zoric wouldn't
hang his hat just anywhere.

A genocidal maniac considers
most others inferior.

He'd want a haunt
with other European ex-pats.

Not too crowded,
lest he get spotted.

Not too small,
lest he stand out.

Okay, six districts
meet your criteria.

For a quick escape,
he'd live near water.

Okay, that narrows it down
to three neighborhoods--

Alimar and Cojimar--
working-class enclaves.

And Miramar--
upscale.

Zoric is a man of luxury.

- Our best shot is Miramar.
- Okay.

So, he'll want
to change his appearance.

His most distinguishing feature
is his beard. That'll go first.

He'll most likely
cut his hair, dye it.

If you want it

to pass, you don't use
a do-it-at-home kit.

You use a pro.

Guidebook lists four barbershops
in Miramar.

He'll go
to one that's

well-regarded, but small enough
it won't be too crowded.

Ernesto's. Four-star rating,
only two chairs.

Is it just me,

or is a barbershop
a hell of a good place

to get a blood sample?

Okay...

The Hague's on standby.

They went ballistic when
I told them we were down here.

If we get a DNA match,
they'll issue an e-warrant,

and I'll arrest Zoric.

And if things go sideways,
they never heard of us.

What we expected.

How comforting.

It's been over an hour,
still no bad guy.

Maybe we should
reevaluate our theory.

Zoric might still be taking care
of business at home--

making calls to the Ratline,

destroying evidence.
Just give him time.

How you holding up, Happy?

I'm in between two Dumpsters

that smell like sour death,

but I'm ready
when the time comes.

Okay.

Looks like
the time is now, gang.

Zoric is coming down the street.

Happy, get ready.

Doc, you sure
this stuff'll work?

Yeah, as sure
as I can be with anything

that I buy
in a Cuban pharmacy, but,

in theory, the chemical
from the occult blood test will

turn blue
with any trace of blood

from the jar,
without compromising it.

Then we can isolate it
and run that DNA test.

Anything?

Nothing blue.

This old coot's got
the hands of a surgeon.

Not so much as a nick.

Paige, turn the van on,
press the accelerator,

then turn it off and floor it.

We're gonna startle Gramps
with a backfire.

Nothing?

That is impossible.

Biology dictates
a minimal startle-response

to a noise over 140 decibels.

Oh, God. Ernesto's deaf.

We can't shake the
guy to draw blood.

We just have to go in
and get it ourselves then.

There's a good chance

Zoric is gonna be armed.
You ready for this?

No.

All right,
then I'll go first.

Guys...

remember, Ernesto might be
deaf, but Zoric is not.

You need to be
completely silent,

or else he'll know someone's
in there with them.

Good point,
Professor Obvious.

Walter, also remember-- we're
in Cuba, and the Earth is round.

♪ ♪

If I could

hear that, then Zoric might
hear it over the music.

Okay, if you see
darker floorboards,

that means water damage.

There'll be more give
and less creak.

Cabe disengaged Ernesto.

Walter just needs
to press a touch too hard,

get that drop of blood,
then we're good to go.

Guys, where's Sonia?

Uh, not good.

♪ ♪

What is she thinking?

She could finally
get revenge.

She's got the blade
right on his jugular.

Get out!

Walter!

I don't know where
you came from, but I know where

I'm sending you.

We know who you are,
General Zoric.

Under the authority of
The Hague, you're under arrest.

We're searching that address

on your fake Cuban
license right now.

If we find the
Ratline ledger

without any help from you,

there's nothing
I can do for you.

But you tell us where it is,
save us some time,

I'll tell Interpol
you cooperated.

Speaking of time, three hours
until our only way home

is wheels up.

Ledger?

Oh, I know the ledger
you're talking about.

It's buried in a
hole in Bosnia

under the bodies of her people.

Hey, hey, hey,
hey, hey, hey!

Hey! Hey, hey, Sonia! Sonia!

Listen to me. Listen to me.

Now, harming him
before he gives us

the information
that we need is illogical.

Okay? Now, your-your...

inability to contain
your emotions earlier

almost got us killed,
so please,

take a moment
to gain control.

Logical thinking never results
in mistakes like those.

Things aren't going well here.

How's it going
at Zoric's apartment?

We'll be inside in five,

four, three...

I'm even better than I thought.

You okay?

He's never had to live

with what's inside of me--

my pain, my anger.

It's all I have!

It's what got us here.

It's what caught Zoric.

You're right.

Walter doesn't understand
being driven by emotion.

He denies almost
every feeling he has,

and it's an existence
that isn't good for him.

But-but the other side
of that coin,

being driven by unchecked
emotion, it's just as bad.

There has to be some middle
ground, otherwise,

the both of you...
you'll never find balance.

Hey! Hey, hey, hey!
Stupid bees!

What's he doing?

It appears he's picking flowers.

I'm still thirsty.

Screw you.

Will he taste it?

Ground nightshade petals
have no taste,

but they have loads
of scopolamine,

which modulates
the nigrostriatal pathways

in the brain.
In short, he'll mellow out

and be more susceptible
to suggestion.

You didn't elude capture
for 20 years by being dumb.

You got that ledger stashed away
tight, keeping it safe.

You can bank on that.

I...

tell you nothing.

But you just told me something.

When I said "safe,"
you had no reaction,

so I doubt there's a safe
hidden anywhere in your home

that Happy
should be looking for.

But when I said "bank,"

your pupils dilated--
a marker of recognition.

Because you recognized "bank"
as the answer to my inquiry.

Yeah, Happy,
the ledger is

in some deposit box.

Look for any bank records
you can find.

Primer Banco de Cuba.

This country's most
secure depository.

State-of-the-art.
Guards armed to the hilt.

You sure that ledger's in there?

You told us to look
for bank records.

Only thing I found in Zoric's
apartment was this invoice

for a safe deposit box.

Only one option:
I'm gonna go in that building

with a jacket
draped over my arm,

put a gun to Zoric's back, and
force him to give us the ledger.

If things jump off,
you guys find the plane.

Don't look back.

You're letting
your hatred of Zoric

and his men cloud your judgment.

Yes, I am.

And I'm still going
in that bank.

It's Director Molina.

Uh, I don't care

how determined Cabe is, his bank
plan won't work with homeboy

out cold here.

Oh, no.
He's really down for the count.

I thought you said
that those flowers

would only mellow him out.

That's all they should do.

You guys see any drugs or
medicine in his apartment?

Just aspirin
and cholesterol meds.

Atorvastatin in the meds and
the scopolamine in the flowers

combined to make a sedative.
He could be out for hours.

Well, that's a problem, because our
plane leaves in 90 minutes.

- So can we now just go home?
- No.

We need to get our hands
on that ledger,

or 23 war criminals stay free.

Molina says that the Cuban
police have put an alert out

on that SUV that blew up.
Hotel security cameras

caught the identical SUV
dropping us off earlier today.

An APB has been issued
on all of us.

Oh, God.

- We're the most wanted people in Cuba.
- Exactly.

So let's just get that ledger
and get the hell out of here.

No argument here, but
how exactly do we break

into Havana's most closely
guarded bank, in broad daylight,

during business hours?
Very carefully.

What do we have?

Vault's in the southwest corner
of the building.

We're really doing this?
We really don't

- have a choice.
- Okay...

so we reconvene behind the bank
in ten minutes.

If we don't gather what we need,
we're dead in the water.

And Havana's crawling
with federal police

looking for us,
so don't get caught.

♪ ♪

Okay, go.

Paige?

Everyone's set. How say you?
That's good.

Got what we needed. Headed back.

All that's left is
Sylvester coming through for us.

Big fella,
you in position?

- Uh, halfway up.
- You're a liar.

You're on the ground
and you know it.

Get up that pole!

Get those legs
goin' up those rungs.

Don't rush me!

I am afraid of heights!

I'll stop
when you tell me the truth.

Why are you so anxious

to communicate
with Megan?

This is not the time!

I kind of agree with him.
It's my business,

not yours, and I'm done
with this stupid therapy game.

Uh, Sly, hey, where
are you right now?

At the top of the pole.

Knew you could do it, buddy.

You guys nearly done yet?

Almost done with
these aluminum foil shavings.

Got the rust.

Ferric oxide, you mean.

Since you're in the explaining
mood, uh, how the hell

is this going to work again?
It's a...

noise canceller, so,

in theory,
playing the sound

of the saw cutting through
concrete, directly at the saw,

while it's actually
cutting concrete,

the sound waves in the box
will cancel each other out.

Instead of a loud roar,
we'll get a muffled hum

only we can hear.

You said
"in theory""

How 'bout reality?

In reality, it could sound like
a freight train,

and then we wind up in prison.

Okay. Sylvester,

we need that alarm
taken care of.

Okay, look for a 12-gauge wire

with four ridges,
for motion detectors,

contact sensors,
infrared,

and system integration,
each 300 VRMs.

It should be wrapped
in black PVC coating.

There's, like,
100 black wires in here

in no discernible order
whatsoever.

Well, you better cut the
right one, because if you kill

all the general electricity
to the bank

instead of just the vault power,

we'll get alarm bells
ringing all over the place.

Sylvester, you're a math genius. You can
find patterns in anything.

Not in this rat's nest.

Whoever upgraded it just put
new wires on top of old!

Okay, that is it.

Each layer of wires
indicates a new stage

in Cuba's infrastructure,

starting with the new government
in 1959.

It's like rings on a tree.
Okay, I see

a blue Caribbean Unicom wire
labeled FPLX-18.

Okay, FPLX technology
was created in 2009.

The alarm sub-architecture
indicated installation in '08.

So, one year earlier,
which means the alarm will be

the outermost black wire
beneath the blue one,

which is... this one.

I hope.

I'm cutting it.

Only one way to know
if he was right.

No alarm. We're good.

Yeah.

Okay, Sylvester,
get down and survey that bank.

They're making
their initial breach now.

Sonia,
why don't you come up here

and sit next to me.

I'm fine right here.

It's not a request.
You don't trust me

with the prisoner? This scum?

Why do you care
if I kill him?

You saw what he and his men did
firsthand.

I saw what happens
when hate rules.

And I don't want to see
that happen to you.

And I don't want to see anybody
but Zoric in handcuffs today.

So, please, kid,

come up here
and exhale for a beat.

I know they killed
a lot of people,

but I know they didn't kill
the good in you.

Cabe,
we're through the concrete.

All right.

We got to get in position
for when they get off that roof.

Okay, now for chemistry class:
Ferric oxide

and aluminum shavings
create thermite.

Which, when ignited,
burns with heat intense enough

to burn steel. Okay.

Well, I've been working
with you guys for a while.

I pick up things.
Okay.

Okay, she's done.

Good thing
I had a big breakfast.

Come on,
put a little stank on it.

I am not a piñata.
Lower me down.

Okay.

Okay.

I'm in.

Or not.

There's another box inside

with a high-tech thermal lock.

We need Zoric's thumbprint
for access.

Problem is Zoric is passed out.

And our pilot's entering

Cuban airspace-- he lands in
40 minutes and waits for five.

Bigger problem.
The bank manager is bringing

a customer to the vault.

What?!

Don't worry; when I cut the
alarm, the whole system reset.

He won't be able to get in.

Okay...

Unless he's doing
a manual override with his keys,

which is exactly what it looks
like he's doing.

So, Happy,
you have less than two minutes

until you are caught
in that vault.

Okay, pull me up.

Wait, we can't leave

without that ledger.

Okay,
that's easy for you to say.

You're not the one about to go

to El Prison Fantástico.

We just need Zoric's thumbprint.
How do we get it?

- Easy. Chop off his thumb.
- No. No, no, no.

Removing his finger
will stop the blood flow.

No, the temperature drops,
and the thermal lock

would read the print
as too cold-- it won't work.

Holy bratwurst, I have an idea.

Hold on, Hap, I'm gonna save you.
What?

I'm dead.

Hurry up, Cabe.

Find anything useful?

Yes.

Just what we need.

Uno chorizo, por favor.

I have the sausage.
You have the fingerprint?

- Guys, we are on TV.
- What?

The authorities are
looking for us as we speak.

Police are headed
right this way.

The bank manager is headed

straight to the vault,
with the keys.

Who ordered the thumbrizo?

Okay. Oh, yeah.

Should be hot enough to mimic

heat distribution over flesh.

Happy... heads up.

Okay.

He's trying keys, guys.

Okay.

Okay, I got it.
Pull me up.

Hi.

Have a sausage.

Policia!

Guys,

we gotta get out of here.

Come on, let's go.

Where the hell is he?

There.

I hate it here!

Pilot's on approach.

Rendezvous point's
15 minutes away.

At this speed we'll never make it.
I'm giving it

everything she's got,
which ain't much.

We need a shortcut.

Sylvester, what did
the guidebook say

about the island geography?

Page 47, "Getting Around."

"The old colonial byway,
which cuts across the island,

provides a lovely rural tour
of Cuban farm life."

Should be three
kilometers north.

Hang on to your lunch!

There's the plane.

We're gonna make it.

Stop the car, he's getting away!

By the time
I turn around in here,

he's gone.
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey.

We go after him, we'll miss
our one shot to get back.

You promised me we'd get him.

We have 23 of 24.
The greater good...

Who cares about
the greater good?

Guys, we all know
what the stakes are

if we miss that plane.

Okay, Sonia, let's go.

Policia's coming. I can't wait
for these guys any longer.

If you lift off without my team,

I will never allow you to land
on U.S. soil again.

You killed my family,
and now I can kill you.

But I'm better than you.

I have more humanity
than you ever will.

I'm proud of you,

But we still
gotta hustle.

Let's go.

♪ ♪

Zoric will face charges

of crimes against humanity

for his role in the genocide.
A confiscated ledger has led

to the search for 23
other Serb war criminals.

Director of Homeland Security

Adriana Molina authorized
the mission and will be meeting

with the press shortly.

Another day, not another dollar.

But somehow,
I feel good about it.

Maybe because
you're a decent human being.

No, that's not it.
So, you yelling at me

on the telephone pole--

the whole exposure
therapy game--

you were just trying to get me

to admit that
I've fallen in love with Megan.

Well, I have.

Well, I'm sorry I was so tough
on you, but it feels good

to say you love someone
out loud, don't it?

You were a good doctor,

you know that.

May I make another
observation?

You took me on
as a pet project

not because you had free time
since Happy put you on a shelf.

You did it because
you were a child

with two parents,
but you were still very lonely.

And you can't stand
to be alone with yourself.

How about you let me
be the doctor, okay?

Fair enough.

I'm off to see Megan.

Knock her dead, meat.

See you later, pal.

Yeah, later...

...pal.

I would've killed Zoric
today if it wasn't

for what you said to me.

You saved me for
the second time.

I don't have to be brave
anymore.

I'll miss you.

Take care of yourself,
sweetheart.

Hey.

Uh, a moment?
Sure.

You've often said that
I need to accept emotionality.

But high emotions,
uh, almost blew this case

in the barbershop
and then chasing after Zoric

was an emotional decision

that could've
landed us in prison,

so we're lucky
that it worked out

the way that it did.

You're right.
So what's the answer?

Is it emotion? Logic?
It's frustrating

that you seem to feel both.
It's frustrating

you think it can be
solved like a theorem.

Uh, let me tell
you a story, okay?

When Ralph was three,
we got evicted.

Our stuff at the curb
was picked clean.

Logic dictated

that I not cry in front of
Ralph, or I'd scare him,

so I took his hand, we walked
for blocks with nowhere to go.

Then I saw a diner with
a "help wanted" sign.

I needed that job
more than anything,

but if I had

acted emotional instead of
composed during my interview,

I wouldn't get hired,

so with my last two dollars,
I bought Ralph an ice cream,

and sat him in the booth
while I talked to the owner.

I got the job, convinced
him of an advance.

And that night, at a motel,

once Ralph went to sleep,
you know, I...

I cried my eyes out.

Because that was the
right time for emotion.

Do you understand?

No.

No, I-I wish that
there was a formula,

like, uh, 90% logic,

10% emotion.

You're smart enough to know

there isn't.

Oh, and by the way,

you didn't take
today's job

for the greater good--
100,000 versus 24

or whatever--
you took it because

you saw a woman
in desperate need.

Y-You took it
because Cabe

asked us to, as our friend.

You were affected...

here.

And until you
can admit that,

you will never
move forward.

Anyway, I gotta go
pick up Ralph.

We're hitting Kovelsky's
for some breakfast.

Breakfast?

It's almost evening.

I know.

It's totally illogical.

Hey, Walt, you want to grab--?

Damn you, Sylvester.

Hey, Cabe,
you want to grab dinner?

Why not?
I know a Cuban place.

How about a good ol'
American hamburger, huh?

Even better.
Yeah.

On the night
in question, Your Honor,

I was uncharacteristically
affected by my emotions.

As a result, I drove
in a negligent manner.

So I plead guilty
and accept my sentence

of community service.

I thought I was
tougher than this.

Since Happy put me on ice,
I've felt pretty rotten.

Yeah?

Well, that ought
to make you feel better.

Uh, missed a piece.

Hey...!

Hecklers.

You gotta love 'em.

Name's Ray.
Ray Spiewack.

Uh... Walter.

Oh, good on you, Wally.
Okay.

Oh, man.

Dead night crawler.

It's a majestic creature.

Aw, really bums me out to
see 'em dead like this, Wally.

You know, sometimes,

I-I...
I just, I feel...

too much.
You know what I mean?

No.

Yeah.

Yeah, sometimes.

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man