All language subtitles for Backdraft 2 2019 1080p BluRay x264-NODLABS

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We come out at night.

Black smoke.

You see me, right?

You want me to find you.

I see you.

Are we clear in there?

Yeah. All right.

McCaffrey, it's a mess in there. Try not to make it worse.

Yeah.

Hey, anyone moved her?

Nope. There's a burned filter still in her left hand.

Boyfriend said he left her in the bed smoking.

Guy with a red hoodie?

Yeah. Said when he came back, the place was already burning.

Yeah.

Uh, he tried to get to her. Not a chance.

Tequila.

Well, he's right. The fire started in the mattress.

Accidental by smoking materials.

I didn't say that.

Give him a hand with those ladders!

Right before the fire?

Yeah.

I tried, but it burnt my hands.

Thanks, man. I got this. Okay.

Hey. How you doing?

I'm sorry about your loss.

Thanks.

What's your name, man?

I... Dylan.

Sorry, I still can't believe it.

That's okay. I understand.

All right, Dylan, was your girlfriend in bed alone?

Yeah. Um... I was watching a movie on the couch.

Must've fallen asleep. And by the time I woke up, she's...

Yeah. I get it, I get it.

But, you see, the thing about people burning to death

is that they always, even in their sleep,

reflexively pull away from the flame.

But your girlfriend didn't.

And also, you know, people don't sleep in the middle

of a king-size bed, right? They pick one side or the other.

When somebody lowers an unconscious person onto a bed,

they put them in the middle, 'cause it's easier.

So, you gotta understand a curious person like me is left wondering

when I get this tested,

am I gonna find more than agave in there?

Fucking piece of shit!

Jesus, who are you?

I'm a fireman.

Office of Fire Investigation, can I help you?

Morning.

You get any sleep?

Yeah, sure, if putting my head on the steering wheel

outside for 20 minutes counts.

Hey, Sean? Cap'n wants to see you.

What's his name again, Warren? Webber.

Christ, he's been here a month. It's Watts.

You two are hopeless.

Hey, Cap'n? You want to see me?

Sit down, please.

Nice work with the murdered girlfriend.

You got an attaboy from that watch lieutenant in Homicide.

Doyle? Did he choke on it?

I got the impression "thank you" and "Fire Department"

in the same sentence doesn't come naturally.

Yeah, but we're not really the fire department, though, are we?

Temporary detail order for Maggie Rening to OFI.

Finished state arson school, peace officer certs

and weapon qualifying.

Why are you telling me this?

She's your new partner.

What? Hang on.

Two-man teams. That's the rules.

Look, we've never had partners before. Why now?

Probably because for too long, nobody's bothered to actually run this unit.

Look, the only reason

Suppression captains like you request OFI

is to brush up your resume before going for battalion chief,

and I get it, I do.

But none of you really understand how we work here,

and if you're like every other short-termer,

the whole fireman-with-handcuffs thing

probably rubs you wrong on principle.

We offer a pretty good deal.

I mean, you get to sit there all day studying for your BC exam,

but in return,

let us catch arsonists our way, okay?

Yeah, I came from Suppression.

You wanna know one of the fires I worked there?

West Haddon Street.

I know what you did in that church.

And maybe with your uncle as assistant chief of this unit,

nobody has the guts to say it, but I will.

I don't have a problem with firemen with handcuffs.

I have a problem with firemen who are a menace.

Hey, for the record, I've never asked a thing of my uncle.

You can go back to work now.

Hey, Maggie Rening.

Yeah.

So, let me guess.

Four years on an engine?

Five.

Do you actually know anything about this work?

Arson bad, right?

- Hey, wait up! - Stop!

Come on. We gotta hit the Hunters before dark.

Hurry up, lazybones!

I'll trade you one candy bar for that jawbreaker.

Come on. Your turn to knock.

Hey, ask her for extra. Hey, ask her for extra.

Mrs. Hunter? We're here.

Eric, knock louder.

Eric, knock again. Louder! Is anyone home?

Try the door.

I hope Mrs. Hunter made cookies.

Walk into their house.

Trick-or-treat!

Mrs. Hunter?

- There you go, sir. - Thanks.

Extra lamb spleen, right?

Can't believe you're still wearing that coat.

He was my father.

And he was my brother.

You stalking me?

Doesn't take Sherlock Holmes to find you.

All you gotta do is follow the stench of the Sean lunch special.

This conversation have a point? Yeah.

Yeah.

You can't keep breaking balls for every single captain

who does a spin down at Arson.

And is this my uncle or AC talking?

Take your pick.

Well, I'm a big boy, I can handle him.

Who's increasingly isolating himself down there.

Well, I didn't join for the bowling league.

See you around.

We got a hit.

Okay.

Don't talk, just listen to me,

the building, the fire, everything, okay?

Yes?

Yo. Five so far.

All kids outside trick-or-treating.

One, we think, tried the door handle and, uh...

Christ. Yeah.

Let's go. We're packing up here.

Yo, we clear in there? Yeah, we're clear.

- Break those couplings. - Roll the wet stuff.

No sign of an incendiary device,

yet the door blew when they opened it.

So, a backdraft.

Hey, if you can't just listen to the building before you're even in it,

you may as well do us both a favor and go wait in the truck. All right?

Six, get your ladders picked up and give 17 a hand with any hoses.

Okay, Rening. So, what are you thinking?

Electrical short in the plug.

Well, the fire certainly visited the plug,

but there's no way it started there.

Intense heat crazing, V-shaped smoke stain.

It checks a lot of boxes.

Well, checklists only cover the physics of the fire.

You also have to understand what it wants.

Nothing around that plug that would excite a fire,

and this fire was excited.

Look at the glass.

If the fire did actually start in the plug,

it would've lingered there for a while, got the lay of the land,

looked for more fuel.

That would've melted the glass evenly,

not lopsided like that.

That requires extreme heat coming from one direction.

You know what? You're right.

The fire did visit the plug,

but it's either a side effect or the real deal,

or someone pre-rigged it to make us think it started there.

The lower half of the room where our plug is

isn't as burned as the upper walls.

Means the fire spent more time high than low,

so it must've entered high somehow.

Wait a second. The fire didn't start in the room.

It came in through the ducts from somewhere else.

Pooling.

Hot enough to scar metal, but leave no molten trace.

Watch your step.

That's the furnace.

The ignition point's at the bottom of that mess.

Get digging.

Thanks. Well, enjoy.

And you?

Me? I'm gonna get dessert.

Watch your backs!

So, I got four unsolved kids on my desk, or what?

If you could count, that's five. And I don't know yet.

Mmm. They burn, they're yours.

A lot of dead kids.

Yeah, too many.

Anybody found the owners yet?

Looks like nobody was home.

Touhy's running down title records.

Well, listen, we can't let this become a shitshow with the press.

You understand? So, what I need from you ASAP

is cause, all right? Was it homicide, was it arson?

Yeah.

Hey.

Are we on the same page?

It started in the air conditioning.

Then used the ducts to get through the house.

Uh-huh. Ugh.

I need a little light.

Breaker didn't trip.

The plastic sheathing on the calibration screw's missing.

Set wrong, it could cause a power surge and overload the mechanism.

Discoloration shows that this cable here

experienced the highest temperatures.

Now, if the heat source came from within the cable

as an electrical overload,

it would melt the plastic insulation against it.

But if not, then the heat source came from outside the cable,

as in a splash of gasoline.

Somebody splashed it.

Looks like somebody splashed it

to make it look like an accidental overload

if nobody bought the shorted plug in the other room as an ignition point.

Chief McCaffrey, is he your uncle?

Yeah, technically.

What do we got? Or not?

Medical examiner's only done soot-or-shot prelims on the bodies so far.

We got five males all under 15.

Hmm.

What killed them?

In the prelim opinion of the ME, the fire killed them.

All right, that's five deaths on us.

Or, uh, you, to be exact.

Well, if it's fire, I think I'm done here?

What do you think, Sean? Murder?

It's too early.

But I gotta tell you, I'm gonna have a hard time calling "accidental" on this.

What I don't gotta tell you is that there ain't a single Naugahyde jockey

down at city hall that wants to call this arson.

Not the mayor, who's already got

a serious problem with his homicide rate this year,

not the PD and sure as hell not us.

ATF coming in on this?

No, I think it's safe to say

that Sean buggered that relationship for all time.

Who, Kunz? The guy's an asshole.

He couldn't pour piss out of a turnout boot

with the instructions on the heel.

What about the family?

The Hunters, Rod and Jan, married, no kids.

We can't find them yet.

I'll tell you what we're not gonna do.

Until we find the Hunters and we have a solid determination

on cause and origin,

we're not gonna say shit.

Nobody utters the "A" word, got it?

Now, tell me one true thing.

Canvass gave us a lot of half-sentences.

There's maybe a gang hitting houses in the area.

The DOT camera at the intersection

might give us video surveillance of a car.

You ID the car, you move.

I want these jag-offs off the street instantly, right?

Mmm. Sure.

By the way, who are you?

Maggie Rening.

Rening? She's detailed to Sean.

Rening.

Well, that's a beautiful thing.

Now the OFI is officially the Island of Broken Toys.

Freaks who did this with a ribbon on top before we say a word.

Yup.

Whoa, whoa.

Hey, I get growled at enough at work. All right?

...in North Side's Lincoln Park,

in the wake of tonight's devastating explosion

that took the lives of five young trick-or-treaters

as they simply went asking for some candy on Halloween.

Neighborhood families have been leaving flowers

and notes of condolence, wondering just how this could have happened.

Fire officials are still investigating the townhouse

that burst into flames without warning.

The owners of the home, Rod and Jan Hunter,

have not yet been located,

and fire officials are asking for anyone with information

on the Hunters' whereabouts to contact them.

Speculation about the cause of the fire is on everyone's mind.

City council members are demanding answers.

Was it an accident, or is this a case of arson?

One thing is for certain,

the lives of five Lincoln Park families and this community

will never be the same again.

Reporting live...

Sean!

Sean!

Sean!

I just don't buy you were drawn all the way down that ducting.

Not on your own.

You don't hunt that way.

Shit.

They made you lie.

All right.

What? What, are you moving in?

How'd you get...

Burning things don't bother you, huh?

Hey! No more of that, all right?

No more of that.

Yeah, that's better. There you go.

Okay, this isn't what it looks like.

I'm just randomly throwing food out there, all right?

Rening. Rening.

You know, I did my homework.

There was a firefighter named Rening, right,

who got two commendations in a single year for making live snatches in fires.

I mean, wow, that's gotta be some kind of record, right?

It isn't.

People don't join the fire department to carry a gun.

They move to OFI either because

they're so busted up they can't do line work anymore

or they can't get arson out of their bones,

and you clearly aren't either.

Yeah? Well, which are you?

Me? I rise above all categories.

Maybe you're both.

Why are you here, Rening?

They didn't do it.

Lieutenant Doyle ID'd their plate near the scene

off the intersection camera.

They had gas and pry bars in the car.

Look, I don't doubt these yoyos were up to something, somewhere,

but it wasn't that building.

What makes you so sure?

Because these goofballs had gasoline in the car.

Gasoline's amateur hour.

It burns twice as hot, bashes around like a bull in a china shop

and puts itself out in half the time.

Look, gas chromatograph came back on the wiring,

and there's benzyl nitrate all over it, not gasoline,

with just enough sprinkles of linoleum to hide the BZ

but not enough to confirm a splash.

Now, BZ is what the pros use, okay?

It burns cool, takes longer to bite,

but when it does, it holds on like a Gila monster.

Whoever did this is smart enough to try and fake a fried plug,

is also smart enough to throw us a basement breaker panel overload,

if we got past that,

and smarter still to trick the fire using the BZ up into the ducting

while hiding it with linoleum hydrocarbon signatures.

Whoever did this is smarter than anyone I've come up against.

Not the smartest.

He's been locked up behind bars for decades.

Ronald Bartel.

Takes it to a whole 'nother level.

Ronald Bartel. Don't worry about it.

Hey, Doyle. The Hunters are still missing.

I feel your pain.

Okay, well, I need you to put more manpower into finding them.

Why would I go anywhere near it? They burn, they're yours.

One of the kids didn't die by fire.

What? I thought you were selling a backdraft for them.

The door killed him. That's blunt force trauma.

No, you wouldn't. Not even you.

What, you wanna see how many of those little souls

I can dump in your lap? Hmm?

Okay, I'll put a team on it. Attaboy.

Ah, Jesus Christ.

What are you doing here, Kunz?

I thought you'd be working igloo fires in Alaska

after the last fucked-up call you made.

ATF, OFI Insurance Task Force.

What, and they put you on it?

Well, who they didn't was you.

Who's this?

Maggie Rening. Hi.

So what are you doing sticking your beak into my fire?

High-profile burn. It makes sense the city might want a second opinion.

Oh, and the ATF just happens to have enough budget

to randomly throw extra man-hours at somebody else's fire?

Two guys walk into a building. One walks out.

You know something, Kunz?

You always trusted your CIs too much.

You know what, I still clear cases.

And I do it without jerking off to fire.

Yeah, yeah. Stay away from my burn.

You always make this many friends in a day?

Hey, I was just heading out to dinner.

Thought you might wanna come.

Uh, I got plans.

It's your mother's birthday.

Well, send my best.

You'll be missed.

Again.

Yeah. Well, talk to her husband about that.

Mmm.

You know, Sean, I think about those days,

about your dad,

all the time.

Ah. Yeah. Well, thanks for trying to take the shot. I'll call Mom.

But you still won't come.

Like I said, I got plans.

You scare him, you know.

I'm sorry, what?

That old man.

Oh, no, we're friends.

I come here all the time.

He owns the place.

I've, uh, seen you here before.

He's freaked out by you.

Uh, no. I helped him out a while back.

We're buddies.

Helped him, huh?

Please, tell me.

How?

Uh...

Well, he kept having kitchen fires.

So I staked it out and found out it was a competing diner

down the street pouring grease down the roof exhaust.

So, caught the bad guys. That's it.

And the owner was grateful.

Yeah, sure.

So he told you to come by.

Yeah. I can think here.

So you do, come by anytime?

Whoa... I'm sorry. Who are you?

Jenny.

Are you a cop?

Uh... Fireman. Well, sort of.

Arson investigator. You?

Geologist.

Come on, really?

Okay. All right.

Wow. Geologist.

So, uh, how do you know old Tommy over there?

'Cause he's my father.

Uh... Shit.

We don't talk anymore.

Oh, you just hang out here?

Pop quiz. Who are you?

Oh. Really? Really.

Oh, wow. Okay. Um...

Well, uh, I'm the son and grandson of dead firemen.

I investigate arson,

not because I like fire but because I understand it.

A distinction without a difference to some of the people I work with.

What about you?

Uh... I am the only daughter of a traditional father

who has disowned me because I'm 30, unmarried

and work looking for oil in the employ of foreign billionaires,

which, basically, in his eyes, makes me an escort.

I burned my stepfather's house down when I was a kid.

'Cause you understand fire, not like it, right?

Ooh. Touche.

Uh... My father thinks I'm the reincarnated son that he lost in a miscarriage.

Last time I saw my father alive,

we were making breakfast for my mom in the kitchen.

I can't remember the last time I saw my mother.

Everyone I know is either scared of or for me.

I'm very good at what I do. I'm better.

All right.

Ooh. Shit.

Uh... Did that just blow it?

Let's see.

Oh, that cop Doyle hasn't found the Hunters yet,

but he sent over what the PD has on them.

Anything interesting?

Couple's been through a few bankruptcies.

DA opened up a case against the husband for money laundering but dropped it.

Find out how much insurance they carried.

Battalion three, engine seven.

There's a two-story commercial fire showing.

Not much. Calling a working fire.

If anything, the place was underinsured.

Smoke appears to be communicating floors through a central core.

I'm seeing blue smoke at the roof line.

Son of a bitch.

Battalion three, this is OFI 4-2-2 en route. Stay put.

Aren't Touhy and Rickets up?

I know this asshole. He pre-weakens the roof structure.

Blue smoke is a chemical ignition. It'll go up the central core

and total the building. We gotta get there and warn IC

before the whole thing comes down.

Hey, Chief, I'm sure it's a spark.

Tell your guys to get out of the building now.

Make sure everyone's out of there. Get them out, now.

Move! Move!

Give me the hose! Give me the hose!

Stay there! Don't move!

Stop!

I said, stop!

Don't move!

Freeze! Dude!

Son of a bitch! Freeze! Freeze!

Pull back.

I told you, if you ever do that again, I will kill you!

You stupid, dumb...

Stop. Stop!

You pathetic, you for-hire torches,

you really think fire dances for you?

Piece of shit!

Jeez, Sean!

It's impossible to bust these assholes

without catching them in the act,

and I had just about enough of this piece of shit.

Sean, get a medic!

You hurt him. Get an ambulance!

So you really pre-weaken roof beams on your fires, huh?

It brings them down fast.

The clients like that.

No roof also means an insurance total on the building.

It also traps firefighters.

I only do commercial vacants. I don't kill people.

It's nice to know there's still standards in the world.

Yeah, not like that freak show in Lincoln Park.

The Halloween fire?

I wouldn't touch that for three times the fee.

Did someone offer you a fee for the Lincoln Park fires?

Look, it was just in the wind.

All right, but like I said, I don't burn people.

Our Sean fucking McCaffrey has torched more guys than I have.

This offer in the wind.

Does it say why it wanted the nice house burned?

This guy knew his arson.

It was twisted stuff.

You and Matchstick Charlie have a nice little chat?

Somebody was trying to hire out a burn on our townhouse.

That piss-ant said that to you?

Well, I wasn't the one pushing him through a window,

so, yeah, I guess so.

Excuse me, I need to speak to the guy they brought in from the fire.

Not until he's been treated.

Okay.

He won't talk to you.

Oh, yeah? Why not?

Because I told him not to.

Shit. There you go.

Hi, Sean.

Who's this? This is Ronald Bartel,

deadliest arsonist in the city since Mrs. O'Leary's cow.

Moo.

Nursing homes, orphanages, probably 100 others

we'll never know about since Ronald's specialty's

making them look like accidents.

The littlest McCaffrey.

You never came to see me.

Your Uncle Brian did.

So, what are you doing out of your cage, hmm?

I hoarded a lot of sugar, ate it all at once.

I'm diabetic.

It's my secret get-out-of-jail-free card.

Sit. We have so much to talk about.

Yeah.

Lincoln Park.

You can't make your fire work, can you?

You know in your bones it has to be arson,

but you can't prove it, and that's eating you alive.

Go wait in the truck. What?

Do it.

This is absurd.

She's an arson investigator? No!

She doesn't have the look.

Not like Rimgale did.

Not like you do.

How do you know about my fire?

Oh, there are lots of us around and about

who have an interest in such things.

Some are guests of the State, but some are not.

And some of them are surprisingly good at hacking databases.

OFIs, for instance.

They hacked OFI's photos, reports, conjectures,

and then they share them.

Yeah. Want to share with me, Sean?

Come on.

All right, I'll share first.

Lincoln Park.

I read OFI's report, and they said

there was a "single ignition source."

That's idiocy.

Didn't they look at your pictures? I did.

So much heat, Sean, driven through the ducting so fast

that it gobbled up enough oxygen to create a backdraft.

Somebody's got a secret in there.

And you know what, Ronald? You're gonna tell me.

No. Sharing's a process,

and we take turns.

That was my turn to share. Now it's yours.

I want you to share with me a fire at, uh...

West Haddon Street.

By the time you finally cornered Wicek in there,

he'd burned down how many churches by then? Eight, right?

You paused when you saw it, didn't you?

Just for an instant, just to admire it.

Because Wicek had created a real work of art.

And he brought out the dragon.

The dragon was talking to you, Sean, and you were listening

and you understood what the dragon was saying.

Sure you paused.

You couldn't resist.

God, to have been there.

The greatest arson duel in history.

Oh. Oh.

Oh, my goodness. Oh, my goodness. Oh, my goodness.

Hmm. I have one more question.

Isn't it my turn for questions?

Yeah. Okay. All right. I'll ask it after.

To get that much heat moving that fast through the ducting

would've required the laying out of additional accelerant.

But you didn't see any signs of that, did you?

So, the answer had to be a second ignition source.

But you looked for it,

and you couldn't find it, could you?

And you checked for everything.

Absolutely everything.

Did you check for celluloid and mercury?

See? Sharing can be good for you.

Wait! I said I had a question!

I know how lonely it can be for a person like you.

Did you and Ronald catch up on old times?

Hey, listen. Those circular burns on the ducts?

They were made by a one-time cell igniter powered by a microbattery.

It was consumed by the fire. I can't believe I missed it.

Okay.

Let's go.

Sean?

Sean?

Ghosts with fire-like eyes.

Sean!

They're me.

- I'm them. - Sean!

Sean.

Dodged animal control one more night, huh?

What are you doing, huh?

Really?

So, you start in the air con unit,

slow, finding your rhythm.

Then you're led through the ducts.

You're hungry. You know it's bait, but you bite.

BZ, second cellulose igniter kept you traveling

through the ducts at speed.

But you never managed a gulp of air.

A house this old, this loose?

You should've gotten around a window,

a chink in the wall, found more oxygen and kept going.

Something trapped you.

Strangled you, made you lose your mind.

Left you lying here silently for hours,

a thousand degrees, all dressed up and nowhere to go.

Whatcha got? Huh? Whatcha got?

You smelling something strange?

That's how they trapped you.

They sealed off the air and turned the whole room into a frustration box.

You always do off-duty investigations in the middle of the night?

It's the way I work. What's your excuse?

Oh, you have a dog.

A stray. A stray with skills, apparently.

Hmm. The stray have a name?

Well, if he had a name, he'd be mine.

You know, I kept checking on you.

Nobody likes to talk about it, though, right?

Big hero, saving a kid not once but twice before you even had three years on.

I mean, articles in The Tribune, awards.

Face of the new department.

But if you sniff hard enough, and I did,

it turns out there's this whole other story, right?

This firefighter who starts stealing things

from the apartments she's been fighting fires in.

I mean, come on, man, what is that?

That's like being a fucking child molester on this job.

What was it, hmm?

All that attention, all those expectations

make you wanna do bad things and hurt yourself?

You know what? You got just enough juice from all those awards,

they give you one last shot and move you away from Suppression

and into OFI because we don't do charity here, right?

You don't know me.

Oh, but I think I can guess. Yeah?

Maybe you know all about the, uh, pressure of rumors?

Ah.

Plumber's putty. They sealed off the air exchange points with it.

Burns clean under the heat.

I would've missed it if it weren't for that mutt.

So they wanted the house interior to burn completely.

Yeah.

I got nowhere else to go, okay?

Nowhere.

And what do you want me to do about it?

I can be good at this.

Okay. All right.

What does all this say to you, hmm?

That it's a hell of a lot of trouble

just to go after a couple that wasn't even home.

Yeah, you see, I don't think it was ever about the owners.

I think it was about the house itself.

Somebody didn't need it burned, they needed it erased.

Now, why don't you go home and think about that.

I'll see you tomorrow.

So you got anything on the Hunters or not?

Like I emailed your partner here,

some chaotic finances

mainly to do with their tech company, Hunter Systems.

What does Hunter Systems make?

A subcontractor in some kind of, uh, NATO...

Where the hell is it...

NATO AIM-120 missile upgrade.

There have been quality control issues over DoD quality specs.

Hunters have been shifting money around,

trying to keep the company going until they can sort it out.

They're in trouble, they're not.

The DoD, the DA and the feds can't seem to make up their minds.

We've been over this with the police

and our project supervisors at DoD.

Nobody's seen or heard from Jan and Rod Hunter

since the fire at their townhouse.

Did Rodger Hunter normally spend a lot of time at the office?

Depended on where we were in development.

It's his company.

Were they having problems with production?

I can't get into specifics,

but there were redesign requests

on the missile's seeker head optics.

That's the part of the AIM-120 we do.

And there was the fire, of course.

Fire?

On our test bed.

The techs were doing our first integrated run

on a fully functional prototype

of the new AIM Raytheon sent over.

Unfortunately, a fire broke out after hours

and the prototype was destroyed.

It's caused a delay and slowed our cash flow.

Were you insured? Of course.

The fire was determined accidental.

Our insurance company, though,

have been slow in our payments.

Why?

They're an insurance company.

Who investigated the fire?

We're in a small suburb here with a volunteer fire department.

They don't have an arson office.

Since we're on a fed contract, they sent someone over from ATF.

ATF guy have a name?

Ralph Kunz.

I think we're gonna need to have a look at that fire scene.

Banged itself inside,

looking for a breath of air just like the Hunters' townhouse.

Can I use the word?

Backdraft?

Guess we just did.

Show me where the investigator tagged the origin of the fire?

Over there.

What is it?

A cooling plant.

Rocket was unarmed, of course.

The solid fuel went off in the heat.

There was basically nothing left after.

Why do I think if we scrape this,

we're gonna find traces of BZ and linoleum?

Kind of convenient the building happens to go off

when they have a missile prototype in there.

Why burn their own building?

Well, if the Department of Defense were having quality control issues,

it could slow down an investigation.

Insurance money would help hold them over.

Only the insurance company is slowly walking a payment.

It's probably because they're as suspicious

of Kunz's accidental call as we are.

- McCaffrey. - Doyle.

Auto fire you might be interested in

in a lot right now off Kedzie. Just saying.

Copy that. We're on our way.

That the Hunters? It's their car.

Gonna take dental or DNA to confirm their ID, but I'm taking bets on yes.

Probably lured here to meet someone, or they were dumped.

Passing uniforms came on it already burning.

If it burns, it's yours. Yeah.

Easy. It's still a crime scene.

Jesus, Kunz, you're like a bad penny.

You wanna tell me what you're doing nosing around a car fire in my city?

Talk to the badge.

The gold federal one over there.

McCaffrey. Agent Johnson.

Is there someplace around here we could get something to eat?

You know Hunter Systems was on the bankruptcy bubble

with this missile subcontract.

Rod Hunter was grabbing money anywhere he could to keep the doors open.

Hang on. So you're thinking insurance fraud on the fire

that burned the missile?

Oh, I'm pretty sure Hunter had somebody light it

regardless what the ATF comes up with, but not for the insurance.

The AIM-120 missile was a big deal.

Next-gen seeker heads could take out any peer air force fighter.

Thank you.

A lot of alarm bells went off in the Pentagon after the fire.

DoD inspectors swarmed the place,

did a thorough on the missile parts that survived.

There wasn't much, but enough to spot

that what had burned in that test bed was a mockup

substituted for the real prototype.

Then cue the wife.

Soon as she realizes DoD isn't buying the switch,

she walks into my office and cops to the whole thing.

How her husband planned to shop the real one

with all its spooky next-generation technology

to certain unsavory middlemen

who would then market its specs to any unpleasant foreign entities

willing to pay plenty for them. Wait, hang on.

So, uh, Hunter handed over the missile to these middlemen?

That's the thing. Turns out the wife moved it someplace else

without telling her husband

or that she'd come to us for a deal.

She promised us all the evidence

and the missile's location on a hard drive

in exchange for immunity.

And then they disappeared.

So, our unsavory middlemen probably paid Rod,

and when he couldn't deliver the prototype because wifey moved it,

well, I'm imagining they worked them over pretty good

before lighting up that car. Yeah, right.

Which I'm guessing also means she probably told them

where the missile really was.

But given their bodies were only dumped today,

they may have been on the run till now, which means it's possible

our bad guys haven't yet been able to move the prototype.

With something that big,

you can't just put it in checked luggage.

They're gonna have to move it through a shipping port to a third country.

And we've got devices that can sniff out

hydroxyl polybutadiene propellant deployed at all likely exit points.

Hang on. There's no way they found the hard drive.

That's why they used a backdraft.

Okay, look, backdraft cooks for hours before it blows,

thoroughly incinerates any evidence inside.

They had to be sure.

It's possible they killed her before she said anything about working with us.

If so, we want their guard down enough

we can catch them when they try to move the prototype.

Five kids died in that fire.

I wanna catch the assholes that did it.

Not declaring it arson,

at least not yet, will help me do that.

Oh, and I suppose it not being arson spares the DoD

and its contractors from having to publicly explain that they let slip

a top-secret missile to our country's enemies has got nothing to do with it?

Come on. Accidental fire, I imagine,

makes a whole lot of conversations go away, right?

Look, we want the same thing as you.

You know, it's funny. When people say that, they don't.

What the heck?

Somebody's been here.

Coin-flip, I bet it was our FBI buddies looking for the hard drive.

You know, I don't care what the Hunters were doing

with their money or their missile,

but when someone chose fire to cover their tracks,

they made a big mistake.

I'm sorry for your loss.

Eric.

Such a sweet child.

So bright.

You could never be mad at him.

You were too busy laughing.

When we moved here,

Eric made fast friends with my son.

Hey. Hey.

Did you, uh, know the Hunters?

Eric did.

Me and him, we used to get cookies from her sometimes.

Were you ever at the house?

We buried our dinosaurs there,

but Mrs. Hunter got really, really mad at us.

So, she said that if we wanted to dig,

we had to go play in the park.

The kid was right. Dug it out of the Hunters' yard.

Looks water-damaged.

Get Doyle's IT guy on the phone and see what he can pull off this.

And tell him to keep a lid on it for now.

So, do I get detective points for finding the hard drive?

Well, a few more and I might try harder to remember your name.

We treat canines as if they are fellow human beings

with all the thoughts and emotions and behaviors of a family member.

It's our closest and most enduring relationship with another species.

We share our lives, our homes, even our beds with them.

All right, what do you reckon, hmm?

Something strange is going on

Don't look at me like that. It's house special.

You might hurt your eyes when you look into the skies

There you go.

No parties after 11:00.

Something strange is going on

Okay, so, Jan Hunter's hard drive was corrupted by moisture.

IT was able to pull some chunks off it,

some coherent, some not so much.

But our job today is to go through these printouts of the hard drive

and see if anything connects to our fire.

Find the missile, we find our arsonist.

Rening.

Christ! This shit is garbled.

What are these numbers here?

Could be measurements,

but I can't make the dimensions make any sense.

It might be a code?

Looks like it was linked to some Hunter Systems entry she made.

Wait a second. This isn't feet and inches.

Guys, this is minutes and seconds.

This is coordinates, lat and long.

For where?

It's the main shipping office for Slick-X Couriers.

I think I need to see that warrant.

I'll get it.

Scuff marks.

Well, that's certainly big enough to hold a missile.

What the fuck?

Son of a bitch.

Shit.

Same trigger as the Hunters' house.

Freeze!

Don't you fucking move!

Now, I know most of the arsonists in this city, but I don't know you.

Who are you working for? Who paid you?

Everybody. Nobody.

We don't give a shit, and we don't ask who.

You really don't know shit.

Ronald is wrong about you.

Shut the fuck up.

You're breaking this place to burn evidence.

Don't be stupid. We're cops.

You're just a fireman who walked in the wrong room.

Get back! Look out! Go! Move!

Get in the closet. Keep your head down!

Keep your head down.

We gotta get out of here.

He knows if he moves he'll trigger a flashover. And right now,

the fire's settling into a stable exchange.

This is about one thing and one thing only, and that's timing.

You understand? The spark in him knows to stay put,

but the man inside is screaming, "Run."

Let him move first. You're out of your mind.

Look at me! You gotta trust me, okay?

No matter what it looks like, when I say go,

- you let him move first. - Wait, wait!

Let him move first.

Wait! Wait!

Okay, go! Go!

Sean!

Waiting for the dragon.

Sean!

Feel it breathe.

Sean!

I see you. Sean!

Sean!

Sean! I made it out! I made it out.

Help me!

Please! Help! Shit.

Please help me! Please!

Help!

Help me!

Please! Please help me! Please!

Okay. You're on your own? My daddy's the manager.

Okay, you're gonna be all right. I'm gonna get you out of here.

Daddy. Okay, hold on tight.

Hold on.

I got you. Hold tight.

Seventeen, let's go! Let's go!

Go, go, go!

Hang on! Hang on! I got you.

Hold on! Hold on, don't look down! Sean.

- Don't look down. I got you. - Help!

Seventeen, let's move it! Let's go!

Come on.

Don't give up on me, buddy! Come on!

Come on.

Keep going! That's it!

Listen. I've got you, all right.

Come on. All right.

Sean!

Firefighter down! Firefighter down!

Everything is gonna be all right. I got you.

Sean? Can you hear me?

Sean!

Fuck.

Look what I found.

Any busted bones?

How the hell should I know?

Rening make it out okay?

She's fine. She's up with the rigs.

I'm gonna need some help getting out of here.

I'd say so.

Like, now.

You know, actually,

I was thinking we'd have a little chat.

Jesus Christ, you're insane. Would you just get me out of here?

Think we got all night, unless you're bleeding internally,

or, uh, this wall comes down on you.

My God, this family's so fucked up.

Okay, Uncle, what's on your mind?

How much longer you gonna keep blaming me for Stephen's death?

Well, we got all night, right?

You weren't there that night, Sean.

You don't know what happened.

I know as soon as you could, you moved out of Suppression

because you don't have it in the belly.

Not like your brother or your father.

Or you?

Hey, fuck you. I would've beat it.

Or you might've wound up dead like everybody else

in this goddamn family. Why don't you

just tell me what happened?

Because, Sean, there are things about that day that

nobody's supposed to know.

Sean, you gotta trust me.

There's nothing I could've done, nothing, about that day.

Bullshit, bullshit!

You were there. You could've saved him.

Don't you understand? I need to know what happened.

Brian, I always have.

Sean.

Your father died trying to save his best friend.

But his best friend was an arsonist.

Adcox was an arsonist.

Sean...

If there's one thing I've learned it's that there's

more to life than hanging onto this family bullshit,

this dysfunction over and over and over, this...

Come on.

I just...

I hope you can find a way to move forward from this, man.

Before it's fucking too late.

Sounds like that wall's about to come down.

It sure is.

Not that we care, though, right?

As, you know, McCaffreys?

Let's get you out of here.

Hey, 17!

I got him, 17!

I got him!

Son of a bitch up there.

No confession.

No evidence. Not even a fucking name.

You're amazing.

What?

You just walked through fire,

saved a kid, swan dived, what, three stories?

And walked away.

That's the best this job ever gets. Trust me, I know.

You know, when I had those two saves,

nothing could touch me, man.

Until it did.

That was later.

But in the moment,

when it belonged to just me, I howled at the moon

at the sheer awesomeness of it. Yeah.

You? You're sitting around drinking, thinking about arson.

What the hell is wrong with you?

What's wrong with me? I'll tell you what's wrong with me.

I suck at being a fireman.

I suck at the camaraderie and the storytelling and the whole

"We happy few, let's go wrestle old man fire" bullshit.

I'll never have my grandfather's sense of duty

or my father's charisma

or my uncle's weird, fucked-up sense of perspective.

I'll always blow at just about everything to do with this job

except for one part, and that's beating fire.

I mean, I don't cry enough about what I see.

I don't know anybody's name.

I don't give a fuck about 99% of the people

wasting oxygen around me, but, nobody,

nobody puts away more arsonists than I do.

You know, maybe all that makes me a bad fireman

or maybe, just maybe, it makes me the best one here.

You know, I really don't give a shit which one it is.

To two firefighters who suck at being firefighters.

Hey, Mom.

I'm okay.

All his visitors, last 12 months.

Okay.

So, who are you?

Do I hear a McCaffrey out there?

Where are you going, Sean?

You going back to West Haddon Street?

Sean?

Sean!

Sean!

Sean.

Sean!

Sean?

What? Were all the bowling alleys closed?

Department's trying to declare the Hunter fire undetermined.

You kidding me?

If the evidence isn't there...

Hey, I wasn't talking to you.

Listen, I'm investigator of record here.

I'm not gonna sign off on that.

You're not the lead on the case anymore, Sean.

But you can't do that, not without cause.

That spark you dangled out the window,

he filed a battery complaint.

Fucking Christ, this is bullshit!

Yeah? Plus they got witnesses

that overheard Rening yelling at you about it.

That wasn't... Look, I didn't mean...

The guy's a fucking arsonist. He lit the building that burned him.

But whatever, okay? Let him file.

I'll beat it with my eyes closed.

Just don't take me off my burn.

Already done. Kunz.

I swear to fucking God.

Soto wants more liaison between OFI and ATF anyway,

so he's gonna let them run with it for now.

With this asshole?

Two guys walk in, one walks out.

I'm not happy about it either, okay? At all.

But, for now, it's done.

You're on admin leave until they make a determination on the battery...

Damn it! Fucking everybody!

Everybody from Chief Soto to the FBI to the whole goddamn world

wants this to be anything but arson.

Everybody but the mothers of those children.

Come on, Brian, don't do this. I am so close.

Maybe if you bit your tongue every once in a while,

your career dissipation light wouldn't be flashing right now.

The trouble with biting my tongue is

I always seem to end up with a mouthful of blood.

Take some time, Sean.

Cool off. Whatever.

Fucker!

- Hey. Is everything okay? - Hey.

Can we just stay in tonight? I need to see you.

Can they really do that?

I guess they just did.

Did you ever crack what those numbers were?

Nope. Just a part of it, a bunch of locations across the city,

but we don't even know how they connect.

Did anyone suggest cell tower loggings?

What do you mean?

Just something I saw on oil projects in Saudi.

Rather than guard every project,

they would put trackers on the machinery.

Hang on, what?

They had built-in accelerometers

that activated when it was moved.

When it got in range of a cell tower, it would start phoning home.

This looks a lot like the same thing.

Did the Hunters put a cell-based tracker

on the crate you're looking for?

Uh... I don't know. The wife might've done.

Hey, listen, can you check with a cell phone company,

see if any of those numbers you sent me match towers?

Yeah, all right, call me back.

Are they gonna run it down?

Hopefully. I'm not allowed near it for now.

But, Christ, Jenny, that's amazing.

Have you named him yet?

Well, if he had a name, he'd be mine.

What is it?

Hey. Hey, wake up.

Wake up.

Shit.

Hey, Jenny. Jenny, wake up.

Mmm. What?

Hey, wake up. What's going on? What's that smell?

Hey, hey! Don't move. What?

Listen to me. Listen to me.

That's gas. It's coming up through the floorboards.

Look at me. I'm not fucking around, okay?

There's a contact switch under the bed that's just set.

If we get up, it's gonna blow. Blow?

Easy. Listen to me.

Now, I can keep my weight on it, okay?

And you can ease out,

but take it slow. Okay?

You can do it. Slow. Go on.

Go on.

Easy, easy, easy, easy, easy!

Let me get over. There you go.

Easy.

Okay, stop, stop, stop.

All right. All right, come on.

Okay, now get out of here and call the fire station.

What, just leave you here?

Jenny, listen to me.

I can't. Listen to me!

The sooner you make that call,

the better chance I have, okay?

Go! Come on!

God damn it. Fuck.

You could've warned me earlier.

Don't look at me like that.

Odds would've been better at the pound, pal. Just saying.

He's in the bedroom.

Stay out here.

Shit, Sean.

Engine 36 is on the way. What, Hector?

Second shift. Masey. Okay.

Oh, shit. They got you all rigged up down here.

Is that gas?

Yeah, they probably tricked it from the stove line

into a shaped pocket to blow upwards when it's released.

What do I do?

I try not to think about what you're gonna do.

Hey! No, wait. Where are you going?

I'm gonna try and cut it off at the main.

No, don't. They probably booby-trapped it

in case I smelled the gas before the plate timer set.

Listen, if Masey knows what he's doing,

he can use his shoring blocks to slowly replace my weight

and get me off it before the plate timer...

Oh, shit!

What'd you do? I don't know.

Maybe there's a secondary timer. I'm not sure.

I'm gonna shut it off down here.

Brian, get out!

Brian, just get out of the building!

Just do me a favor. Shut up and don't move.

No, Brian, don't be stupid. Get out!

I'm gonna draw the gas down here away from you.

No! Brian, get out of the building!

I'm not letting another McCaffrey die.

Listen to me. You'll watch two if you don't get out now.

Sorry. Not again.

Brian! Get out!

Brian!

Present arms!

You were right.

The numbers correspond to cell towers.

We monitored the frequency.

The last few hits have been near Calumet.

It must be far from the tower

because the search circle is way too large.

Takes in half the storage areas south of the city.

Nobody's got the manpower to search that many storage yards.

And with the ATF on the fire and Kunz's undetermined call,

we got no writ. It's up to the feds now.

Look, to hell with downtown and the feds.

Orders or not,

whatever you want, whatever you need.

We're here to help you finish this, Sean.

There's something I gotta do first.

Thanks.

Wow.

A cat fall on your head?

Did you bring the sugar?

No, I didn't bring you sugar.

I just came here for one thing.

You're so mean.

I'm sorry about your Uncle Brian.

I read what they wrote about him in OFI...

Yeah. He seemed like he was very nice.

I just met him once.

So, what's your one thing?

The two arson pros that came to see you, who were they working for?

Which foreign intelligence agency

were they gonna sell that package to?

Russians? Chinese?

Really?

Wow.

They didn't say anything about that to me.

Okay, well, what did they want?

What did...

They just wanted what all would-be dragon tamers want.

They wanted an opportunity to sit with the man they know

knows how to converse with the dragon.

Hang on. Did you help them with the Lincoln Park fire?

Sean, no!

No! I have a reputation.

I just talked to them about the dragon.

Okay, so how were they gonna

ship their package out of the country?

Package?

Why would they talk to me about that?

Because the language of these people is fire, right?

Oh. They don't speak the language of fire.

Not like we do.

Yeah, you and I don't speak the same language.

Oh, come on, Sean. Of course we do.

You love to speak with the dragon. So do I.

And the dragon loves to speak with us, and you know it.

And poor Rimgale. That's all he ever wanted.

But the dragon wouldn't dance for him.

It's true.

Just you and me, Sean.

When your Uncle Brian and Rimgale came to see me in here,

they came to interview the devil.

You knew that if you were ever going to come in here to see me,

you knew it was your alter ego that you'd be seeing.

You would be seeing another you.

Hi, another me.

All right, look, just level with me.

How are they getting the package out of Chicago?

I don't know anything about a package.

Nothing. Okay?

But I will share a story with you,

if you will share a story with me.

God damn it.

Listen to me, you son of a bitch,

this isn't a conversation, okay?

All right. What story?

Two guys walk into a building, one walks out.

You know what? Fuck you.

I told you at the hospital

that I still had one more question to ask.

The answer that you give could be very cleansing for you, Sean.

He'd already lit his burn in the church on West Haddon Street.

I imagine it must have been very beautiful.

It was over-thought.

Lot of show, but you could tell by its yammering

that it was unstable enough to knock out with the right counter fire.

So, I grabbed a gardener's can of mixed fuel,

and I splashed a response, just a little.

But enough that both fires turned on each other, away from the building

and ate each other's tails. Poof.

Done.

And yet Wicek was still consumed.

Yeah. He was.

So here's my question.

What did you feel when Wicek caught fire?

Did you want him to burn?

Did you want to burn them all?

You have no idea.

Oh. Oh, believe me,

I do.

I do. I do, Sean.

Those two men with the pretend names,

they wanted my opinion

of their notion

as to how they could best trigger an accidental fire

at an exterior location.

Okay. What location?

Given the Kelvin required for ignition was minimal.

Given the constraint of mixed fuel.

Given the narrow diameter piping.

Given all of that,

I would suggest that you go looking for a location

with lots and lots of...

Propane. Propane.

You're gone so soon?

Our minds are very similar,

except, of course,

you're insane.

There's a flame burning in my heart and it's gonna grow

A flickering love light turning on a glow

- McCaffrey. - Our tracker

started phoning home again for a few hours and then stopped.

It must have moved.

Good news, it's also closer to a tower.

I emailed you a search radius.

It's a lot smaller this time.

All right, can you check the HAZMAT database

for any propane sources in the area?

What are you up to, Sean?

Look, I'm not gonna have anybody else get hurt. Okay?

Sean? Sean, are you there?

Short-term container holding only, 72 hours max.

Shipping companies use it to stage upcoming deliveries for the port.

All right, thanks, man.

The temperature's rising I've started realizing

The way you fill my loving cup

It's just burning me up

It's missing a screw.

Shit.

Took some doing.

Yeah, I bet.

Sniffs missile propellant?

That's what the man said.

Ah. Oh, you'll need to find a battery for it, and I was never here.

Thank you.

Just keep those dead kids off my desk, huh?

Shipping to Nigeria?

There you are.

A lot of people looking for you.

Come on, come on, come on.

What the hell are you doing, Sean?

Surprise, surprise. No diversion blast today.

What the hell's going on?

Should have gone off by now.

It should have blown already.

They're not just gonna let us drive through with the goddamn load.

Hey! Show me your hands! Show me your fucking hands!

Now, get out the fucking truck. Go! Move!

Come on! Show me your fucking hands.

Walk towards me slowly. Slowly.

Keep coming. Walk towards me. Walk towards me!

You, too, show me your fucking hands.

Down, down, down. Down.

Keep those hands where I can see them.

Tank's not gonna blow today, asshole.

You're both under arrest...

Stop!

God.

Maggie, no!

Fuck!

Oh, fuck.

Hey, asshole.

Do you really think you can stop us?

Fuck you, man!

You wanna kill me? Go ahead.

Maybe the missile's in the container,

maybe it's halfway to fucking China by now.

You'll never know.

You're full of shit.

Yeah?

Well, it wouldn't be the first time.

Get up.

Get up! Oh! Fuck.

Maggie, I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

All this worth five dead kids, huh?

Shut up!

My buyers see their kids die all the time.

So what's a few American brats to them, huh?

Ronald's an interesting guy, huh?

Full of useful ways of setting fires.

Should've spoken to him sooner.

Ah! Ah!

Fuck!

Rening!

Rening!

Sean.

Oh, my God. Maggie, get up.

Get up. Come on! You can make it.

You remembered it.

What?

My first name.

Isn't it beautiful?

You came back.

Mostly.

What are you doing?

Thinking. About what?

Oh, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing after all.

Be the first McCaffrey to leave this job alive.

You're gonna need a new place to live.

Yup.

Still got that extra room.

Above your father's restaurant?

We don't talk anymore, remember?

Yeah.

But, um, there'll have to be, you know, less burning things.

Yeah.

He got a name yet?

Well, if he had a name, he'd be mine. Right?

I'm focused

Engine 17, truck 46 respond.

3700 West Madison Avenue, two-story commercial structure,

fully-involved fire, reports of flames through the roof.

Locked and loaded

I got the feeling that you know it

Yeah, I've only just begun I won't stop until it's done

Till you're broken

So welcome to the fire

I'm the one with the lighter

Feel it burning through your veins

As we're walking through the flames

Getting higher

So welcome to the fire

Welcome to the fire

Feel it burning through your veins

As we're walking through the flames

Getting higher

So welcome to the fire

I've been waiting for this moment

The final battle of the chosen

See I'm never gonna quit

Got my legacy set in motion

So welcome to the fire

I'm the one with the lighter

Feel it burning through your veins

As we're walking through the flames

Getting higher

So welcome to the fire

Welcome to the fire

Feel it burning through your veins

As we're walking through the flames

Getting higher

The bigger they are

The harder they fall