All language subtitles for The Rook S01 E02 Chapter 2 eng

Previously onThe Rook

Dear you, if you're
reading these words

but don't remember
writing them,

then I'm afraid I've failed.

You've survived
several immediate threats,

but you are still in danger.

You work for a government
agency called the Checquy.

We're a secret wing
of British intelligence

that recruit people
with certain abilities.

Linda Farrier is your boss.

You don't know
who I am, do you?

I can't tell you who I am,
who you are,

or what the fuck is going on.

You need to be in the office
or people may wonder.

Conrad Grantchester,
number two.

He likes you
but he's dangerous.

Are we expecting
an American BVA agent,

Monica Reed?

You didn't tell us
you were coming.

The person who
betrayed you is right here.

Don't trust anyone.

Yeah, okay, I'll get it.

No, it's all right.
It's my house.

I'll get it.

They're back!

What have I told you
about climbing up there?

It's fine.
I do it all the time.

Myfanwy!

You're okay, just--

So, everyone,
let's begin.

The events at the Bridge
and the bank suggests

that we have an unidentified
EVA target on our hands.

And a fucking
publicity nightmare.

What do we
know so far?

The target remains undefined,
but the victims look like

a Vulture grab team.

White latex gloves,
CCTV cut off.

At both locations.

Straight out
of the Vulture playbook, but--

Strange thing
is the manner of--

The killings.

Of all ten,
no two are alike.

So the sooner we identify
the cause of death...

The closer we get
to our target.

And who are these Vultures?

Foreign agents?
Common thugs?

We don't know.

It sounds like you don't know
anything at all.

Give us time.

Yes, and the investigation's
only just begun.

If we could get moving--

Rather than just
sitting here.

I know something.

One of the victims was
an American agent

named Marcus Kevler.

He disappeared
on a mission two years ago.

Some of us thought
that maybe he was still alive

but we just didn't know
for sure until now.

So,

We not only failed
to retain a potential EVA asset

for the agency,
we hosted a fucking

cocktail party for rogue agents

at the base of
a national landmark.

Home Secretary,
rest assured,

the target will be found

and an airtight cover story
will be sent viral.

Don't mollify me, Conrad.

I've had quite enough
of your silver tongue.

Excuse me while I sugarcoat
this shitshow

for the Prime Minister.

Gestalt, see where
we are with forensics.

Conrad,
please meet with the Lugat.

Latex gloves aside,
their fingerprints

are all over this.

Ms. Reed, please report
to Ingrid Woodhouse in Support.

Thank you.

Myfanwy.
What are you doing?

You tell me.

Because all that
I can glean is that

an international incident
that left ten people dead--

one of which
is an American agent--

is centered around
something called an EVA.

The fuck are you thinking,
bringing me here?

Well, had you come
at my earlier invitation,

I'd have had a chance
to prepare you for all of this.

EVAs.
It's an acronym.

Extreme Variant Abilities.

Abilities that are only
possible at the farthest reach

of human biology.

A tiny fraction of
the population possess them--

less than one hundredth
of one percent.

And the most fortunate
are selected

to be employed here.

And I'm one of them?

A Rook?

Yes, a Rook.

It's an important job

with unavoidable
responsibility.

Attendance is mandatory.

So, I mean, what--what--

what's my...

Transdermal neurotransmission.

It's an electrical force that's
transmitted through the skin.

But you've never demonstrated
anywhere near the ability

of the magnitude displayed
at the bridge.

In fact, quite the opposite.

Usually you're to be found
tapping away at your computer

or manically picking lint
off your skirt.

Which, fortunately for us,
obsessive attention to detail

is a valuable skill.

You mean lucky for me.

'Cause I'm so fortunate
to be here.

Yes, you are.

You have the ability
to serve your country

while enjoying some degree
of political protection.

Like all rare
and valuable things,

EVAs are trafficked.

They're stolen,
smuggled, traded.

Enslaved for the elicit use
of their incredible power.

Myfanwy, I don't expect you
to understand now.

But eventually you'll
see that this

is an incredible opportunity.

Come with me.

Myfanwy, the following
exercise is intended to prompt

your memory going all the way
back to childhood.

I'm going to show you
a few images of people,

places, and objects,
and I'd like you to tell me

if anything's familiar to you.

Okay.

Okay.

Myfanwy,
do you remember this house?

I don't know.
Is it where I grew up?

Please, don't guess.

Does it look familiar?

Anything?

Carry on.

This was your
childhood pet.

Try to remember its name.

- She doesn't know.
- It's okay.

It's okay.
Let's move on.

This is a photograph
of you as a girl.

Myfanwy, do you
remember this day?

Now I'm going to show you
photos of various people

from your life.

Yes, just--just wait
a minute.

I-I need to vet these images.

Yes.

Yes.

No.

My God, no.

No.

Not that
one either.

That-that's enough.

You're suffering from what we
call dissociative amnesia.

A gap in memory often
in response to trauma.

It's more than a gap.

What qualifies as a trauma?

It's difficult to say.

But the good news
is your condition

is usually quite short-lived.

How short-lived?

Hours, weeks, months.

I prefer hours.
What can I do?

Myfanwy, wait.

I need to go back
to the bridge.

That isn't what he said.

He said in order
to regain my memory,

I might revisit the sight
of the trauma

to spur things along.
Finally, a clear directive.

You're oversimplifying
the definition of trauma.

Hang on a minute.

Yep.

We've got a Russian,
from the bridge.

Female, mid-30s.

A dental filling.

Mixture of acrylic
and stainless steel.

Only used in the USSR
in the 1980s.

So our dead American
was working with a Russian?

Well, it really must be
the end of the world.

Maybe they were racing
to grab the same target.

I've been warming up a source
in the Russian Embassy.

I could give it a go.

No, don't let them
see us squirm.

I do not squirm.

Shit.

You can follow every step
of the investigation

from this terminal.

A live feed of the
entire Operations Hub dataflow.

So I can watch
the entire investigation

without affecting it
or participating in it

in any way?

Let me ask you something,
Ingrid.

A Rook's office is supposed
to be mission control.

Am I right?

An office filled with pay stubs
and permits and red tape,

I mean, what kind
of Rooks office is that?

The kind which can arrange
a diplomatic visa

and emergency import license
for an American EVA

with less than an hour's notice
at 5:00 in the morning

because she jumped
on a Eurostar train

without telling anyone.

Are you talking about me?

Nice day for a stroll.

I asked to meet
with your employer.

The Lugat is
a multifaceted organization.

Lorik Pernaska is a busy man.

What?
Am I not good enough for you?

Tell me what you know about
the Bridge and Mansel Bank.

It's a tragedy what happened.

That's all I know.
Why do you ask?

Because the CCTV was disabled
at both locations.

Which implies some sort
of espionage.

It's no secret that Mansel Bank
is one of yours.

The Lugat invests
in Mansel Bank.

The Lugat owns Mansel Bank.

Which means you have direct
access to surveillance.

Surely you must know
something more.

What are you saying?

The events at the Bridge
and Mansel Bank

are all the fault of the Lugat?

You tell me.

Or what?
What will happen?

You will turn the air
into truth serum

and force a confession
out of me?

We both know I could.

But why should it come to that?

The Checquy and the Lugat have
a long-standing tradition

of abiding by
a diplomatic code.

Now, it's hard to imagine that
either of us would do anything

to disrupt it.

I'm sorry your agency
faced embarrassment.

As your friend,
I truly sympathize.

But we have nothing to do
with your misfortune.

Your employer
is a shrewd businessman, no?

A lot of very profitable
import-export.

Some of it almost legal.

All legal.

Lorik is an entrepreneur.

And a drug lord

and an arms dealer

and a human trafficker
profiting in the sale of EVAs.

I'd hardly call that legal.

Now, politicians may take your
money to look the other way.

But the Checquy
doesn't need money.

We have power.

And you, my friend,
have just put that power

to the test.

Miss Thomas.

We weren't expecting you.

Of course not.

It's a spot check.
Surprise inspection.

Part of our strategic
risk analysis.

Does Gestalt know?

Who else would have cleared it?

Miss Thomas--

Look, I really don't--

Thanks.

You okay, ma'am?

Yes.

What's that you've got there?

It's fulgurite.
Left by the marker.

Strong enough evidence
to lead us to the EVA?

It's hardly a fingerprint.
It's just soil, vitrified.

Turned into glass.

Caused by massive
ionization of the air.

Ionization, like lightning?

Exactly.

Whatever happened here
could power a small city.

It was explosive.

Myfanwy!
A word.

Um, you said you had several.
Can I have one?

Thanks.

What you doing here?
You should be at the office.

Yeah, I'm on my way.

I just wanted to see it
for myself.

Since when?

You haven't made
a site visit in years.

Since ten people died and
the pavement turned to glass.

An event of this magnitude
requires a significant

level of document--

Be honest.

Did you come here to see me?

- No.
- If you did--

- I didn't--
- If you did,

it would be okay.

Maybe we were too quick
to write this off.

Or not.

- Gestalt, I--
- No need.

I get it.

You're fine with reaching
inside all of me

when you're drunk,
but in the sober light of day,

you can't even look at me.

I was quite drunk.

You know,
my memory's a little hazy.

Good, that just
makes things simpler.

Don't even have
to pretend it didn't happen.

As far as you're concerned,
it never did.

Miss Reed.

Support is downstairs.
I can get you an escort.

Yeah, well, all due respect,
I didn't come all this way

just to work in your
accounts department.

And with all due respect,
nobody asked you

to come at all.

Hey, Ingrid,
I know that you and I

started off on the wrong foot,
but, you know,

I can really tell that you are
the person who gets things done

around here,
am I right?

I mean, like, you basically
are mission control.

What do you need?

I need to run some names

against your
immigration records.

Names of?

Marcus Kevler was in Paris
last month.

I found out he used a cobbler--
cobbler meaning forger.

Who cobbled up 19
false identities.

Any one of them could have been
the one he used in London.

If you have actionable intel
on the Vultures,

you should give it to Gestalt
in the Ops Hub.

Marcus wasn't a vulture.

He was a friend
and a colleague.

Okay, how about this?

If we get a hit,
we take it to Gestalt.

If not,
it was a waste of time anyway.

I'm just trying
to find out what happened

to someone I care about.

So if you can use your
preeminent skills to help me...

I'll run the names.

Thank you.

But only if you stop pretending
to respect my vocation.

Done.

Here we are.

Where are you from?

Warsaw, originally.

But I was raised right here.

In the hotel bar.

Are you from Moscow?

Sochi.

And what do you do?

None of your business.

Look at the time.
I have to go.

What do you mean?

It's too late now.

Fuck you!

Fucking bitch!

I know you're disappointed,
and I understand.

That throb, the tightness,
the need in the pit of your gut

for stimulation.

But if she stops,
tells you she's

changed her mind,
when I find myself

in that situation,
I find it helps

to count backwards from 100.

By the time I get to about 85,
I've usually stopped thinking

like a fucking animal.

Dear you.

I started off being
so organized about writing

to you and now it's all
in a rush.

I've no way of knowing
when fate will arrive,

but I'm doing my best
to prepare for it.

For you.

If you're
reading this letter,

you found your car.
Congratulations.

I call her Alice.

You should know that Alice
has a spare tire

mounted in the boot.

Check the inflation
immediately.

Hello?

Myfanwy, I know what
you're doing.

And I understand
your frustration.

But you're still in danger
from all directions,

even from yourself.

All EVAs are in danger.

This is different.

Found my car.

I know.

Leave it and I'll send
someone to pick you up.

You people scare me.

Don't be so dramatic.

I'll have Gestalt bring you
back to the office.

Can't.
Need to keep looking.

You said this address
was connected to Marcus.

Flat 3.
You sure?

99%.

Okay.

Kevler used an alias
for almost everything,

but even he couldn't fake
his way to a parking permit.

He gave his real,
notarized proof of residence

to the Council.

Well, that was stupid.

Ever apply
for a parking space in London,

you'll understand.

Thank you.

Hey.

How'd you find this place?

Alias used by Kevler.
You?

Alias for the Russian.

One of the bodies was Russian.

A Russian phone
we hacked made a call

to this address.

You think all of them
stayed here?

There's another
bedroom here.

More mattresses.

Most of the dead vultures
were crashing here.

I'll try
the toilet cistern.

It's Marcus's
favorite stash.

I'll do it.

Nothing in the cisterns.

Yeah, nothing in here, either,
as far as I can tell.

Well, they haven't
unwrapped the place.

They were coming back.

Maybe bringing
the target with them.

Do you ever think about the
guys who are gonna go through

your shit one day?

Judging the unwashed dishes
of your life?

I have two dishwashers.

Myfanwy,
what are you doing here?

Just stopping by.
How's your progress?

Come on,
not you, too.

Ten corpses in 12 hours,
what do you all expect?

I've only got two
qualified staff,

and they sometimes need sleep.

Look, I know it's my job,

but we're working as fast
as we can.

There are no shortcuts when
every single corpse

has a different cause of death.

Punctured lungs,
spinal fracture,

collapsed trachea,
subarachnoid hemorrhage.

These might as well be

from completely different
crime scenes.

Shattered ribcage.

Multiple punctures
of both lungs.

Which would normally
mean beating or crushing.

But she doesn't have
a mark on her.

No bruises, nothing.

Took us ages to figure
out it was

her own intercostal muscles.

Contracting to a tenth of their
own length so violently

it ripped her ribcage apart.

I'll get to him tomorrow.

That's the only unifying
thread between these victims.

Extreme internal muscle spasms.

Fracturing bones,
rupturing vital organs.

The lack of external flesh
wounds makes me think

it's some kind of
neurotransmission.

Definitely
not transdermal.

Nothing like you.

Whoever did this
tortured ten people to death.

Can't imagine how
they live with themselves.

Neither can I.

Thanks.

What's your poison?

No idea.

Hey, what do you--

What do you want?

We have no more business here.

I disagree.

Tell me everything you know
about the bridge and the bank.

You've got about 40 seconds
until your lungs

start to blister.

You'll kill me.

Probably.

The bridge and the bank.

It was an easy
trade gone wrong.

Get past the obvious.

Yes, yes, yes. Yes!

Your girl.

Your Rook.

You know, the national
service agencies aren't

without their flaws.

The American BVA
is over-regulated

and reliably hypocritical.

Our own Checquy is mired
in politics.

But it's people like you--

cruel, witless dilettantes--
turning millions in profit

from people like me.

That's what I find
objectionable.

Tell Lorik if he should pursue
Myfanwy Thomas again,

his ragged, bleeding remains
will look quite

like the insides of your lungs.

Linda.

You met with the Lugat?

Yes.

And?

Nothing.

It was a complete
waste of time.

You know that drinking
impairs your memory.

Stop stalking me.

Gin or vodka?

Lost track.

Can I have one?

All day retracing my steps
and nothing's come back.

Nothing.

Just a massive black hole
where my life should be.

Those bodies--

what kind of monster am I?

Stop it.
You are not a monster.

You're a capable young woman
committed to saving lives,

not destroying them.

And that core part
of you survives,

whatever remains
of your memory.

Where are my parents?

They passed away
a long time ago.

You were far too young.

I'm sorry.

Your life's been very hard.

In so many ways.

I promise you there
are benefits to forgetting.

So I should just revel
in the black hole?

Give it a whirl?

Or you could use this
as an opportunity

to reinvent yourself.

Now, I have a farmhouse.
It's a few hours away.

It's very remote,
very secure.

There's a duck pond,
personal chef.

Really, it's lovely.

I've arranged your stay, and
Gestalt will take you there.

I thought you said
if I didn't go to work,

the sky would fall down.

Well, ultimately
it's my decision,

and I will handle the fallout.

No.

I'm not going to find myself
on a fucking retreat.

I need to know who I am,
and the answer isn't

in your duck pond.
So thank you for the offer.

I'm going to stay,
reckless or not.

Reckless
is an understatement.

Those men at the bridge
were not our friends.

As far as I can tell,
I don't have any friends.

Apparently I can look
after myself.

Do you think so?

Then take your pills.

Starting tonight.

20 milligrams,
three times a day.

What do you know
about my pills?

They help you
stay in control.

Trust me,
it wasn't my idea.

It was yours.

And I thought you'd had enough
of my silver tongue.

Only when it's talking.

God.

I needed that.

Today has been a clusterfuck.

Press are out for blood.

It's all...

Too delicious.

I've identified the target.

In a single afternoon.

Hard to believe
that Linda missed it,

especially when it's
one of our own.

Who was it?

Myfanwy Thomas.

Are you certain?

How do you know?

Due diligence.

Keys.

- Excuse me?
- Your car.

- I need the keys.
- I told Farrier that--

I'm driving you home.

You've been drinking.

Yeah.

So we're not talking?

Better we don't.

Because...

Because if we talk
I'm gonna ask you what

the fuck is going on.

And you won't like where the
conversation goes from there.

Great.
So you're pissed at me.

This catastrophe,
and you're staging

a fucking wine tasting.
It's unbelievable.

Where is this coming from?

Is this about earlier
with Alex?

With you?
Us?

- Back at the bridge?
- No.

This isn't personal.
This is about work.

When you hold onto your rank
while fulfilling none

of your responsibilities,
you put all of us at risk.

You're right.
Silence is better.

Fine, I'll drive.
You just relax.

I didn't ask you
to drive me anywhere.

No, Farrier did.

In the middle of a manhunt.

I don't know why
she protects you.

Wraps you in her skirt like
it's Bristol all over again.

What's that supposed to mean?

You know what it means.

Get some sleep.

We'll start again tomorrow.

Thanks for the--

Ride.

Dear you.

The physical pain
promised by this box

is like any other drug,
providing a rush of endorphins

to numb the pain
you feel inside.

The effect is only temporary.

If you no longer have
a craving for the fresh slice

of your skin,
you are one step ahead

of me already.

Now is the time
to decide.

Do you take
this step forward,

then another and another?

Or do you rewind
10,000 steps behind?

Sentimental fuck.

Fuck.