All language subtitles for stitchers.s03e04.mind palace.720p.webrip.2ch.x265.hevc-psa

Linus: Previously on Stitchers...

I need to appoint someone to
take all my responsibilities.

Please tell me I didn't lose a
potentially career-changing promotion

just so you could date the new brunette?

We are not okay.

Wait, you're handling this stitch?

He's got the yips.
He's worried about you.

And that is why we need
to keep your mother safe,

so that after stitching
technology is perfected

we can stitch into her living
evolved brain and map it completely.

- Good talk.
- Hmm.

Woman: Her oxytocin levels
are rising in response to

what she's seeing in the stitch.

Things are heating up.

The more physically
intimate you guys are,

the more it's going to mess
with your ability to stitch.

We have to do this if
we're gonna save my mother.

Oh, I know. I'm with you.

- How are those oxytocin levels?
- Holding steady. Yours?

Never lower.

AmericasCardroom.com brings poker back
Million Dollar Sunday Tournament every Sunday

Camille: You're doing it all wrong.

- What?
- The walk of shame.

There's no walk. There's no shame.

I gotta say,
I give you and Cameron a lot of credit

for holding out as long as you did

before finally throwing oxytocin to the
wind in favor of the other big "O."

We didn't. It was more like Kubrick,
a kiss, and a cuddle.

We're keeping things
very PG around here.

- And your night?
- Unh.

Hard "R."

Cameron's really able to
keep his hands off you?

He's got incredible willpower.

He's fine.

98.

99, 100.

Yo, bro, how long you
gonna keep this up for?

As long as it takes for you to
work up a damn oxytocin filter.

- Feet.
- Look at the bright side.

Look how much money you're
gonna save on your gas bills

with all those cold showers you take.

Oh, cold showers aren't a thing.

And money, I have.

What I don't have is a
functioning oxytocin filter.

- Can we talk about your yips for a moment?
- No.

Look, I get it,
you're freaked out about Kirsten.

- Not talking about it.
- And you're afraid of her getting hurt.

And that fear has
manifested itself into yips.

- Still not talking about it.
- I'm just saying.

I agree with you.

You should let Camille
pilot stitches for a while.

- I'm a good listener if you ever need one.
- No.

Thanks, but I'm good.

For now, I'll do me, you do the filter.

You got it, boss.

So define "a cuddle."
Was there spooning?

Instead of you asking me inappropriate
questions and me avoiding them,

can I interest you in a little trouble?

Go on.

To save my mother,
we need to perfect stitching, right?

Go on!

And to perfect stitching, we need
to fully map the human brain, right?

And now that Cameron has
me piloting the stitches...

Then we can spend a little more time
in the regions that we need to map.

- Okay, except that we don't...
- Yes, we do.

I hacked into the lab's mind map system.

Our progress, mapping the brain.

Pulsing sections are everything
we've already treaded.

And the static areas are regions
that we haven't fully mapped yet.

They'll be our focus moving forward.

Okay, so, just to be clear,
you want me to go behind the back of

and flip a hearty bird

to my employer,
the National Security Agency?

- Absolutely.
- It's about damn time.

- Cameron doesn't know you want to do this?
- No. And he can't find out.

He's obsessed with my safety, and
lingering anywhere long enough to map it

would just completely freak him out.

And also, you don't go to your boss

when you want to break protocol.

You come to someone like me.

Now what we need is a body.

♪ Take me inside ♪

♪ Take me inside ♪

- Synced and corrected by martythecrazy -
- www.addic7ed.com -

-= Resync to WEB-DL by Yn1D =-

Vic's a John Doe, mid-to-late 30s.

Shot once in the chest
before being thrown

or falling off the roof
of the Windwood Hotel.

Tattoo on his right forearm

is running through
image recognition now.

Killer also shot off
his left index finger.

That reminds me, we're
out of baby carrots.

Finger's missing.

However,
terracotta shards were in the wound.

So we dug out the bullet
from a tile in the roof

where we know his hand was held down.

We're running ballistics on it now.

Why shoot off his finger?

Maybe the killer was
trying to make a point.

No pun intended.

Maybe I should pilot this.

Both: No.

You might still have a
little performance anxiety.

She means in
a stitch kind of way.

Of course.

It's the only frame of
reference I have on you.

You can try naming all
the state capitals.

- I hear that helps.
- I don't have performance... anx...

Whatever.

You can pilot.

Here's my map.

This must be what Beyonce feels
like when she drops a secret album.

After you upload it,
watch out for Linus.

He'll be the first one
to notice something's up.

You know, you could always think of
the starting lineup for the '69 Mets.

I don't know...
gosh, you're enjoying this, aren't you?

I am.

Lights to 20%, please.

I need a go, no-go for
stitch neurosync. Life-Sci?

Go.

- Sub-Bio?
- Go.

- Engineering?
- Go.

You can also think of all the
different kinds of pickles.

Works for me.

- Communications?
- Go.

- Medical?
- Go.

- Com check. One-two, one-two.
- Let's get into trouble.

All right. Obligatory movie quote?

- "I see dead people."
- Too easy.

Induce stitch neurosync on my mark.

In three, two, one... mark.

This is odd.

Describe "odd."

I'm in a gallery of some kind,
but it's deserted. No people.

- And I'm sensing something.
- What?

What are you sensing?

I'm sensing that it's
not a real art gallery.

I can't explain it. John Doe isn't here.

- Does she need to bounce?
- Kirsten, do you need to bounce?

No. I must be here for a reason.
Let's stick around a while.

Linus, where is she?

Part of the brain responsible
for symbols and imagery.

It's an area we haven't mapped fully.

- Might explain what she's feeling.
- Move her somewhere else.

- No, let her poke around.
- Camille.

My stitch, my rules.

My lab, my orders.
Mission clock's running.

Got a memory hotspot in another
region that's mapped a little better.

- Move her.
- Linus...

Isolate memory image and
grab what you can, thanks.

Did I make a mistake trusting you?

No, sir. Kirsten, pressure's on to move.

No, wait, I see something.

It's like a dollhouse scene,
but on a display stand.

Just got a hit on John Doe's tattoo.
British Royal Marines.

He's a sailor?

Apparently who plays with dolls.

There are weird things.

There's a swan and a sword.

And a patch of grass.

An apple tree.

There's four toy soldiers marching
underneath it, around a golden snake.

Any of you geniuses know
what any of this means?

Sorry, I don't speak bizarro.

There's a tile on another pedestal.
A cow standing on it.

And there's another golden snake
wrapped around the cow. Like a hug.

This is the kinda dream I have after,
like, three tequilas.

John Doe encrypted his memories.
This is image-based encoding.

Move her to the language
processing cortex.

I kinda feel like there's
more to explore here.

Mission clock at two minutes
and forty-three seconds.

There's no time. John Doe created
an image-based language for himself.

We need to be in the
language processing cortex.

- Cameron, I just think...
- I don't care what you think.

- This stitch is over. Tell her to bounce.
- Hey, talk to me, please.

- Death moment approaching.
- Playtime's over. Death moment is upon us.

You okay?

- I'm fine.
- What were you two playing at?

- Nothing.
- Reckless or stupid?

Oh, I don't like your tone, Goodkin.

You kept Kirsten in an unmapped
area for longer than I wanted to,

so are you reckless or stupid?

Well, that depends. Are you the lab
director or a flustered boyfriend?

Neither. Right now, I'm the guy who's
wondering if he was wrong for trusting you.

Okay, guys, let's just dial
the temperature down here.

It's my fault. I told Camille to do it,

um, to beef up mind mapping
in areas we're weakest in.

It'll prepare us better
to stitch into my mother.

Did you at least see
who killed John Doe?

Yeah. A golden snake,
whatever that means.

I'll tell you what it means.

It means John Doe built a mind palace,

a memory technique for people who
need to keep their secrets secret.

- Royal Marines plus mind palace equals...
- John Doe was a spy.

More gold.

More like gold-gold.

- That's it.
- And save and swipe.

- Kirsten: Cow. Snake.
- Cowsnake. Here it is.

A harmless snake encouraged
by farmers to live in barns.

John Doe's snake was far from harmless.

- What about the soldiers?
- There were four of them. Marching.

- Cameron, where you going?
- Rogue.

I'm going rogue.
A concept you're familiar with.

While you're gone, I'll follow
up with Fisher on ballistics.

And we can check out
the crime scene, uh,

see if there's anything there
that ties into the images.

Yay, a field trip.

I'll go with you.

I could apologize again if
it would make you happy.

Look, you know I've accepted

prioritizing your mother over us,

but then you go behind my
back and make this secret plan

for the stitch with Camille
instead of coming to me?

You would have said no.

What part of, "I need you to trust me,"
did you not understand?

Is this what it is to
care about someone?

That you're worried
about them all the time?

Because, Cameron,
that just doesn't sound right to me.

I have a history of watching people I care
about get into bad situations or worse.

Well...

- Then maybe we shouldn't be together.
- This isn't was this is about.

No. If I'm causing you
more pain than happiness,

then I don't want
anything to do with this.

You are not the only one who gets to
worry about how the other person is doing.

Fine.

I'll work on not being such
a helicopter boyfriend.

That's the last time you go rogue.

At least, not without me.

Okay. You got it.

I'll be Rogue One and
you can be Rogue Two.

Oh, there will never be a Rogue Two.

Agent Goodkin, I'll tell you the
same thing I told you over the phone.

MI6 has nothing to tell the NSA.

So, none of your people are
in Los Angeles right now?

- I didn't say that.
- A man was murdered at the Windwood Hotel.

We think he's one of yours.

- Do you have a name?
- No. There was no identification on him.

I assure you, Agent Goodkin, there's no
connection between your John Doe and MI6.

He has a Royal Marines tattoo.

And we have reason to believe
he was familiar with spycraft.

If this man was a member
of the Royal Marines,

I honor and respect his memory...

but that still doesn't make him MI6.

What I don't respect is the NSA.

Always barging in where
they're not welcome,

wanting cooperation,
but never offering any in return.

You see, I've dealt with your
organization in the past.

Don't care for it.

And see no reason to do it again.

So, what is it you want, hmm? You want
cooperation? I'm willing to offer it.

Consider it a professional
courtesy. What...

do you want?

What I want,
you don't have the authority to grant.

Try me.

Help me help you.

Why are you quoting Jerry Maguire?

He does that.

So... what do you want?

Cameron: Her name's Chloe Marks.

LAPD picked her up last night
on a drunk and disorderly.

A drunk MI6 agent? Let me guess,
vodka martinis? Shaken, not stirred?

So, any chance Stephanie can pull
some strings at the DA's office?

We get her out, Agent Stick-Up-His-Ass
helps us with our John Doe.

Why doesn't he go through
official channels?

I dunno.
Didn't want to embarrass the agency.

Uh-huh.

All right, let me see what I can do,
but no promises.

Okay.

"Agent Stick-Up-His-Ass," huh? What
happened to "professional courtesy"?

Huh. You should hear what I
really wanted to call him.

Our jobs are to put people in jail,
not get them out.

- Why the sudden interest in Chloe Marks?
- It's a quid pro quo.

If Chloe's the "quid" who's the "quo"?

Classified, I get it.

- She punched a cop.
- She's a foreign national.

Tell that to the cop's busted nose.

Well...

Are you really going to make me do this
without going through the proper channels?

We both know no one can make Stephanie
Fisher do anything she doesn't want to do.

I'll file the paperwork.

Thank you. I owe you.

Dinner?

This favor goes way beyond dinner,
my friend.

I can work with that.

She's so...

- Young.
- Pretty.

Chloe Marks.

Which one of you is my savior?

Ah, it was a team effort.
I'm Agent Goodkin, this is Agent Clark.

We're with the NSA.
Dexter Abbott sent us.

Well, it's about bloody time.

Never mind.

Get me a fluffy robe and all
the little lavender amenities,

- and I'll forgive you both.
- Or...

how about we call you a cab,
you go back to the hotel,

and you can get your own amenities?

Yeah, about that. Tiny problem.

The hotel booted me after my,
I assure you, provoked,

unfortunate conduct in their lounge.

- So where are you staying now?
- It's a moving target.

Well,
we can take you back to Abbott's office.

Please. Not looking like this.

I don't mind the occasional
"walk of shame"...

God knows I've done enough of them...

But this one could be a career ender.

Well, I'm not too far from here, if you
want to come back to my place and clean up.

- You're a love.
- Yeah, car's right over here.

Professional courtesy.

Linus: Nothing here matches
the images in stitch.

Apple tree. Blossoms.

Roots underground. It's for hidden.

Snake and apple. It's like Adam and Eve.

Is it a relationship gone wrong

or a relationship gone right?

You're working too hard.

Pretty much the first time
I've ever been accused of that.

Yeah. I think...

each image is a specific phrase,
words, word, or a word fragment.

It's a language.

That only our John Doe knew.

I should loop Ivy in on this.
She's really good at this sort of thing.

Really? Ivy again?

You'd like her if you got to know her.

I'm sure she's lovely or something.

Look, I know...

things are "not okay,"
to use your words...

Good, you were paying attention.

But we gotta get past this.

Whether you like it or not,
Ivy is important to me.

So, I'm sorry supporting
her before didn't work out.

It bit me in the ass.

But that's not my fault. Or yours.

Can't we please just move on?

Look, I'm seeing Ivy today after work.

Why don't you join us? Drinks?

I, uh... I already have plans tonight.

You have plans? You're seeing someone?

Oh.

Who is he?

All right. Nobody knows, so not a word.

I'm dating the medical examiner
who works with the program.

- Amanda? But she's...
- Uh-huh. Stay woke.

Hey. I'm just surprised, that's all.

Ugh! Fine. Screw drinks.

Bring Ivy to the house
for dinner tonight.

Amanda and I will cook.

- Are you sure?
- Yes.

And listen,
nobody in the lab knows about Amanda.

And it's been pretty perfect,

but it's also new and I don't want
to make this an in-lab meme, so...

Oh, don't... Don't worry. I got it.

Lips are sealed.
That's a language I understand.

Man: Taxi!

Kirsten: So, now what's the game plan?

Well, we held up our end of the bargain,
now MI6 has to hold up theirs.

We'll tell Abbot that
we rescued his agent

and hopefully he can find
out who our John Doe is.

Okay. Well, text me
after you talk to him.

- I figured you'd go.
- And you'd stay here?

- It is my loft.
- You made the deal with Abbott.

Agent Goodkin...

do you happen to have something
I can wear while my clothes dry?

Things got a little messy last night,

so I washed them in your sink.

Uh, Agent Clark can
help you with that. I...

was just leaving.

Abbot: John Harrington.

He was a mid-level agent with us.

Forgive me,
I had no idea how serious this was.

I assume Harrington was here on a case.

No, not recently.

A few months ago, yes.

Well, the NSA's gonna need to see the
file for the case he was working on.

Sorry, it's been scrubbed.

All right,
we need to cooperate with each other.

NSA is hard to cooperate with.

That case Harrington was on,

he brought his wife, Belinda,
with him as part of his cover.

She was unaware it was a business trip.

Then she was abducted, right from the
hotel where she was going to meet John.

Kidnapped?

Ransom demands were made,
payments dead-dropped.

She is presumed dead. Body never found.

Harrington went balls-to-the-wall
to find her killer.

I tried to reason with him,
but he'd have none of it.

Went rogue, came back
here on his own dime.

That's when I brought in Chloe...
uh, Agent Marks, to find him.

How do you know Belinda
isn't still alive?

Because the animal who took her

shot off her index finger
and mailed it to Harrington.

Are you and Agent Goodkin more than
just professional acquaintances?

Agent Marks. I don't believe
that's any of your business.

C'mon, Kirsten. Think of this
as inter-agency cooperation.

Hmm. Are all young,
female MI6 agents like you?

God, I wish. Imagine the fun.

Is that your mission?
To bring fun to MI6?

You don't think much of me, do you?

That's okay, neither did my family.

I had a very privileged upbringing.

What's the old saying? With great
privilege comes stuffy parents.

So when MI6 recruited me, I went for it.

- To rebel?
- To make a difference.

Cameron just texted.

Abbott said the agent's
name was John Harrington

and that you were looking for him
in the days before he was killed.

Well, he was my first assignment.

Cocked that up good.

Please tell me you're close
to finding his killer.

Ugh. It's Abbott. He's summoning me.

Talk of "stuffy."

He and Harrington used to be partners,
did you know that?

Actually, no.

Hmm. It's interesting
Abbott didn't tell you.

- Anyway...
- Well, if you think of anything else,

- please let me know.
- Well, I'm tapped out,

but I'll pick Abbott's
brain when I see him.

And if he accidentally says something
interesting, I'll let you know.

So, Harrington's wife's name is Belinda.
Try this on.

We know that Old High German for
"bright serpent" is Betlinde.

The golden snake is Belinda.

That's... possible.

But that would mean Harrington's
death memory is of him

being attacked by his dead wife, so...

Let's try this.

Harrington "cut"
from MI6 to search for his wife.

- His wife's the swan?
- Swans mate for life.

Okay, new topic.

How long do you think it
would take you to break

a six-digit code on the
credenza in Maggie's office?

Think whatever's inside that
credenza might have something to do

with how our cases get picked.

Maggie put me in charge,
I need to know everything.

Just ask her. She might tell you.

Yeah, but then again, she might not.

Never ask a question you don't
want to hear the answer to.

Hours to weeks.

Long as it gets done
before Maggie gets back.

How goes twisted Pictionary?

- Oh. My brain is fried.
- Yeah, I'm callin' it.

Everyone go home. Get some rest.

We'll pick this up tomorrow, huh?

- I thought we were getting some rest.
- Oh, boss never sleeps.

- Okay, can I help...
- Nah, I'm good.

You didn't let me finish.

Can I help you decide where we're
gonna take-out from tonight?

So, I'm thinking tonight's Kubrick
film should be Barry Lyndon,

an Irish adventurer who
was recruited to be a spy.

Art imitating life?

Hope you don't mind. I let myself in.

It's lovely. Thank you.

Are you okay to talk
about what happened?

Abbott was miffed I lost Harrington...

- and got pinched by the cops.
- Doesn't explain the violence.

Don't let Abbott's bearing fool you.
He's an animal.

Used to brag about
waterboarding detainees.

Well, something must've set him off.

I did ask him about his
relationship with Harrington.

What'd he say?

Nothing.
That's when he went balls-off on me.

You must've hit a nerve.

You think Abbott could've
killed Harrington?

Pushed him off a roof?

No, he's far too clean.

Well, maybe Abbott wanted it to look
like someone-not-as-clean did it.

It's not my problem anymore.
I'm done with MI6.

I mean, I did not sign up for... this.

So I quit.

Have an early morning flight
back to London. Tomorrow.

Then, you'll stay here until then.
It's safer.

You can have Cameron's room.
We'll take the couch.

Both of you?

Together?

Cozy.

Babe, are you sure your
friends are cool with mezcal?

I mean, not everyone's
into the smoky taste.

Camille: Yeah, yeah,
don't worry about Linus.

Ivy might be more of a wild card.

You are so...

Oh, my goddess, I
can't even describe it.

- That's them.
- I'm glad we're doing this.

Oh, hello and welcome.

- Hey, it's great to see you again.
- Mm-hmm.

- Amanda? I'm Ivy.
- Mm-hmm.

And this is a Mezcal Mule.

It's my grandma's recipe.
She drank like a pirate.

We brought wine.

For after, perfect. You guys just chill.

Amanda and I will finish making dinner.

Yeah.

- Shiitake for a green pepper?
- Kirsten: Deal.

I'd offer you beer or wine, but Agent
Marks cleaned me out pretty good.

Hmm. She had a rough day.

Aah. Rough two days.

Oh, it's Maggie.

"All of Harrington's files were scrubbed
except the one he was working on here."

"That wasn't scrubbed,
because it never existed."

- So Abbott lied to us?
- A spy who lies, what are the odds?

It's called a mind palace.

Could the sum of the letters
of cow be the answer?

See, it's not a code, it's a language.

Welcome to "Around Los
Angeles in 80 Bites."

These are my favorite appetizers
from my favorite restaurants.

Just please try my gnocchi before you
decide who's Top Chef in this relationship.

- Ooh, wait. We forgot the crackers.
- Oh, I'll grab 'em.

Uh, Linus,
you wanna be a dear and help Amanda?

Amanda: Oh.

I'm pretty sure I don't need any help.

It's on a high shelf.
You're my pocket bae.

Tall-ish Linus to the rescue.

Okay, listen. Please don't hurt Camille.

Wow. Where did that come from?

From someone who really cares about her.

- You mean, like me?
- I mean me.

What do you mean, "what is my game?"

You heard me, sweetheart,
I don't trust you.

And that's fine, because I don't
really trust a lot of people,

but if you hurt Linus in any way...

What makes you think I would hurt Linus?

Oh, I don't know, let
me think. Genetics?

I'm warning you,
Camille may act tough, but...

Hold up.

Did you just say, "I'm warning you"?

Do you have any idea
what I do for a living?

I know nine different ways to kill you
and make it look like natural causes.

So why don't you get
the frickin' crackers

before I show you number eight?

I'm not my father.

I like Linus for who he is.

- There's no ulterior motives.
- If you're using him

to get inside information
on the program though,

I'd say that qualifies
as an ulterior motive.

Trixy-bits for everyone.

Yummy!

Quincy?
I have to talk to you about something.

Good or bad?

I'm not sure yet.

I got a call from a
friend of mine at the DOJ.

My name has come up in some meetings

and there might be an opening there...

- for me.
- It's what you've always wanted.

- It probably won't happen.
- Hey.

That's what we thought about us.
And now, here we are.

This is great.

Yes. This is.

Mm. Mm.

This is way better than sex.

- Mm.
- Okay, maybe not better than sex.

But these days,
I gotta take what I can get, right?

We need to get everyone to the lab.

- What's up?
- I think Abbott...

is way more involved
than he's letting on.

I'll shoot a text to the team.

Well, what about Chloe?
She shouldn't be alone.

- Well, she'll be fine until the morning.
- No, no, no, no.

If Abbott's involved,
he'll be able to figure out my address.

This loft's in my name.

Oh, my house isn't.
It's in Ed Clark's name.

Okay, wake her up.
Tell her there's a change in venue.

Okay.

She sleeps naked.
You wake her up. I'll text.

- Camille?
- Yeah. Got Cameron's text. Let's go.

Hey, wait. This is Chloe Marks from MI6.

- Charmed, I'm sure.
- Likewise.

Cool if she stays here tonight?

Mmm. I'm...

not sure tonight is the best...

Why not?

Because she's
already got an overnight guest.

Of course she can stay.

Amanda, meet Kirsten and Chloe.

Kirsten you know about.
Chloe is an MI6 agent in grave danger.

Oh, very exciting. I work with the dead.

Oh, then you must know my family.

I like this one.

Why don't you guys run off

and Chloe and I will
swap horror stories.

We won't be long.

- Is there wine?
- Yes, loads.

Take your time.

- We won't be too long. I hope.
- Okay.

- Camille...
- Oh, God, please don't make it a thing.

I was going to say
that I'm happy for you.

Amanda seems great.

Yeah.

Look at this.

- A cow.
- And this?

A cow.

Uh-uh. What is a baby cow, Alex?

Correct. I'll take "Seriously, you ruined
my evening over this" for a thousand.

Well, it's not a baby cow.

It's a miniature breed.
It's called a Dexter cow.

As in Dexter Abbott.

The cow on the mind palace was
standing on a terracotta tile.

Dexter was on the roof of the
hotel which has terracotta tiles.

So either Abbott was there
when Harrington was killed,

knows who killed him,
or killed him himself?

Let's go with option number three.

Just got ballistics. Bullet found on
the roof was typed through Interpol.

It is from Abbott's weapon.

Let Maggie know what we found.

Go to Abbott's apartment, see if
he's there. Proceed with caution.

We'll go to the consulate
and check his office.

Nice work, boss.

Elementary, my dear Fisher.

See. Not here.

Okay. Got it.

Everything okay?

Um...

your boss was attacked in his office.

He was shot.

Dexter?

Oh, my God.

Is he dead?

He lost a lot of blood
and is heavily sedated.

- I should go see him.
- No. Camille says we should stay put,

keep the doors locked, and just
hunker down until she gets back.

Why? Am I in danger?

Look, we're just gonna hunker down,

drink some more vino...

and it'll all be fine.

Hey, boss.

Prepare to kneel before me.

You worked up an oxytocin filter?

Yeah... funny story about that. No.

So why am I kneeling before Zod?

Once we knew that the
cow represented Dexter

and that the tile represented
the roof of the hotel,

I was able to develop a codex.

We now have an interpretation protocol

to help us unravel all of
Harrington's mind palace images.

Very cool.

- You ready, boys?
- Let's find out if Zod is right.

Zod is always right.

All right, thanks to Dr. Ahluwalia

we might have a filter that
unravels Harrington's mind palace.

Lights to 20%, please.

I need a go, no-go for...

I'll, uh... I'll take it from here.

You sure?

Yeah. After me and Kirsten were shot at,

it scared the yip right out of me,

but it also made me realize that I
need to be in control of my own mind

before I let her traipse
around in someone else's,

so... I'm working on that.

I'm good.

The inside of Kirsten's
head is all yours, dude.

All right. Radio station
KCAM, Los Angeles,

we're back on the air and
playing all your favorite hits.

I need a go, no-go for stitch neurosync.
Life-Sci?

Go.

- Sub-Bio?
- Go.

- Engineering?
- That's a go, Big Bopper.

- Excellent reference. Communications?
- Communications are a go.

- Medical?
- Go.

- Com check. One-two, one-two.
- I hear you, Easy Listening.

All right. Induce stitch neurosync
on my mark in three, two, one...

we'll be right back after this...

mark.

Memories are still encrypted.

Just gimme a moment.

Any chance we can mind map more
of this region while we're here?

- Map what you can, as fast as you can.
- Thank you, "teamwork."

- Okay. Codex filter should be kicking in.
- Kirsten?

I see a door.

It's open. It's filled with white.

- More mind palace?
- No. Viable memories are beyond that door.

- Camille, how's the mapping?
- Dense.

It's all white because the memories are
encrypted and the area isn't fully mapped.

Mapping takes time.
Your call. Stay or move on?

Let's move.

- Think of the end game.
- I am. Catching whoever shot Harrington.

I'm going through.

I'm at a wedding, and
it's not encrypted.

Tell Zod, "Nice job."

Father: Dearly beloved,
we are gathered here today...

- Cameron: Do you see Harrington?
- Yup, he's the groom.

It's his wedding to Belinda.
Abbott's here too.

I, John Harrington, take you...

There's apples,
just like in Harrington's memory.

And a family crest. It's
the swan and the sword.

Come to mama.

Okay. Swan and the sword seal's a crest
belonging to the Lindsay Family of Ireland.

Hello. MI6 scrubbed all
of Harrington's records,

but they didn't touch
Irish Marriage records.

Hello and how do you do? Harrington
was married the fourth of March.

- Four marching soldiers.
- Bride was Belinda Lindsay.

A beautiful snake.

I take you,
John Harrington, to be my husband.

Kirsten: Oh, I understand.

Cameron: What?

Kirsten: The snake
coiled around the cow...

Belinda and Abbott
were having an affair,

and Harrington must
have found out about it.

Belinda: Until death do us part.

That means that Belinda was
on the roof with Abbott.

They killed Harrington together.

Pull up what you can on her.

Belinda: Until death...
death... death... death.

She wanted her family ring back.

It was probably stuck.
That's why she shot his finger off.

Okay, we're burning daylight.
Death moment's upon us.

You got eyes on bridezilla?

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

- Camille!
- I'm bouncing.

Belinda Lindsay is Chloe Marks,
and she's in my house right now!

Amanda: I'm definitely a Ravenclaw.

- Chloe: Oh.
- Mm-hmm.

Yes.

Oh, hey. I'd have saved you a plate.

Chloe: Is that Camille?

Uh, yeah, just finished work early.

Early? It's almost dawn.

Hey, Camille.

Thanks so much for letting me stay here.

Amanda are I are now good friends.

Oh.

Not too good, I hope.

Is it hot outside? You're sweating.

It's a little... humid.

Um, Amanda, can I talk to
you on the porch real quick?

Hey.

Are you sure Amanda
doesn't want her phone?

Amanda, go.

Hope you're hungry.
We saved you some plates.

I usually do this on dead people.

Yeah? How do I compare?

Umm... sexier than some.

Aah!

Thanks for saving my life.

Man, when Chloe came
at us with that knife,

I dunno, something snapped inside me.

I was just so afraid of losing you.

I don't let people
in. It's not who I am.

It's not who I... raised myself to be.

But I let you in.

It must be scary.

I'm so scared.

But I'm so excited.

My life makes sense with you in it.

Oh, you are pretty pleased
with yourself, aren't you?

And why not? We got the bad guys.

A murderous MI6 agent who
slept naked in my bed...

Don't push it, pal.

And her boss, both of whom are going to
spend the rest of their lives in jail.

Well,
that's inter-agency cooperation.

Heh. Thing is, if she felt so trapped in
her marriage, why not just get a divorce?

'Cause she was all about fun,
and it was way more fun

to seduce Abbott and get
him to help her disappear,

and kill her husband when her
first plan crashed and burned.

- Poor guy.
- Oh, gotta give him credit.

He used the NSA to get her out of jail.

He used us, not the NSA.

"Ee-ther, eye-ther."

Poor Harrington.

All he had to do was forget about
Belinda after she went missing.

Well, he couldn't.

He loved her.

Some part of him knew that
nothing could keep them apart,

not even her death.

Thank you, though,
for saving me in Abbott's office.

You're welcome.

- Cured my, uh...
- Yips.

- Yeah.
- Yeah?

- Oh, so the other day...
- Hmm?

- I'm sitting here...
- With your feet on the desk.

- Absolutely.
- Yes.

When I hear this buzzing sound...

- Mm-hmm.
- Coming from inside that cabinet.

And right after that,
I got Harrington's stitch alert.

- Related?
- I think so.

I think there's a device in there that's
connected to how our cases get picked.

- It's a six-digit unlock code.
- Mm-hmm.

Randomized.
And the code changes every 15 minutes.

This will take forever.

Welcome to forever.

Linus.

If we can only find out where
this gets its information from...

Well, then we can figure out where
our cases come from, and we can pick

the ones that will help us the most.

Remember how I said I'd
help you save your mother?

Yes.

I meant it.

Hmm. Promise me that if things
don't work out between us...

Oh, I'll let you keep your fingers.

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