All language subtitles for Person Of Interest S03e06 Mors Praematura

FINCH: You are being watched.

The government has
a secret system,

a machine that spies on you
every hour of every day.

I designed The Machine
to detect acts of terror,

but it sees everything...

violent crimes
involving ordinary people.

The government considers
these people irrelevant.

We don't.

Hunted by the authorities,
we work in secret.

You will never find us.

But victim or perpetrator,
if your number's up, we'll find you.

(ELECTRONIC CHATTER)

Did you miss me?

(TASER FIRING)

We're gonna have
so much fun together.

SIMMONS: He's digging around,
getting way too close.

Should we silence him?

MAN: We can't let him
jeopardize our operation.

Put it to a vote.

(ELECTRONIC CHATTER)

(LOCK OPENING)

I'm in, Finch.
Care to tell me where?

The apartment you're in
belongs to Ms. Shaw.

I promised to respect
her boundaries,

but for eight hours,
our agreed-upon means of contact

have gone unanswered.

So you tracked her down.

Ms. Shaw may be violent
and uncommunicative,

but she is never tardy.

Something is amiss
and I need you to find out what.

So what are you up to?

My waist, approximately.

MAN: Don't be so delicate, Harold.

I need you to get in there and dig.

See, people, they put
business cards in dirty clothes,

jot phone numbers on napkins.

A single relative's name
is all we need.

Oh.

Watch out for rats.

Rats?

As you may have guessed,

we have a new number.
Timothy Sloan,

an estate investigator for the
New York public administrator.

If somebody dies
without an apparent next of kin

like the compulsive hoarder
who used to live here,

they send in Sloan to find one.

So, when somebody dies,

Sloan figures out
who gets their stuff.

Exactly.

I'm undercover as his new partner.

Finch, you know I don't like you
heading into danger without me.

I'm not so thrilled about
my current circumstances either,

but I need you where you are.

Speaking of which,
have you found anything?

Nothing unexpected.

Raymond Chandler.

I grew up reading this stuff.

I always dreamed
about becoming a detective.

Did you try the police academy?

Turns out they're not crazy

about hiring someone
who can't shoot straight.

You check the fridge yet?

For a next of kin?

You'd be surprised what pops up
behind moldy leftovers.

Oh.

Nothing in here but old milk,

an enormous quantity of something
that used to be pasta, and...

Oh, wait.
(RUMMAGING)

What'd I tell you?

The cooler temperatures
keep the film from fading.

Jackpot See for yourself.

Marcia the hoarder has a sister.

Which means we have an heir.

Good work, Harold.
Our job here is done.

Mr. Reese, I have to leave now.

We found what we needed.

Unfortunately, so did I.

Taser confetti,

ejected whenever one is fired.

I suppose it's too much
to hope she tased herself.

Knowing Shaw, it's possible.

But if I had to guess,
I'd say she's in trouble.

Sorry about that.

Which part?
The tasing, the drugging,

- or whatever this is?
- Hmm.

I had to make sure
you'd hear me out.

She needs our help, and...

I figured you wouldn't come willingly.

She?

The Machine's given me a mission,

and step one is to team up with you.

I'll pass.
Trust issues.

Besides, The Machine
gives missions to Harold

and the government,
relevant, irrelevant.

Why would it be talking to you?

Because now,
there's a third category.

Things are evolving.

And my relationship
with The Machine is a little...

...different.

As for trust issues,

I'm happy to take the first step.

There's a gun for you
in the glove compartment.

Thanks, but a knife
will do just fine.

This is the part where
you give me one good reason

why I should believe
anything you say.

October 2, 1988.

You took a road trip
with your father

to watch the Houston Oilers
play the Philadelphia Eagles.

- He bought you a sweatshirt...
- Don't talk about my father.

It told you that?

The Machine trusts me,

even if you don't.

You spent years
working for The Machine,

and she was never wrong.

If you don't help me,
someone might destroy her.

And innocent people will die.

Forget how you feel about me.

How would you feel about that?

Okay.

I'll forget how I feel about you.

But when this is over,

you better hope I don't remember.

(ENGINE STARTING)

(TIRES SQUEALING)

- Good evening, Mr. Reese.
- Staying out of trouble, Finch?

For the moment,
although I'm not sure

our Mr. Sloan could say the same.

I hacked into his office network
to see what he's up to.

It appears our estate investigator
has taken an unorthodox interest

in a case that isn't his.

Jason Greenfield,
died two weeks ago

of an apparent heroin overdose,
no next of kin.

How is Sloan's interest unorthodox?

Would going
to a dead man's apartment alone

in the middle of the night qualify?

Any progress in finding Ms. Shaw?

Her building doesn't have cameras,
but the one across the street does.

And they agreed to let you
see the footage?

After some convincing
and a sleeper hold.

Point is I found out
who took Shaw,

and you're not gonna like it.

Find them, Mr. Reese.
Now.

Why the hell are you following me?
(BARKING)

Contrary to the saying,
his bite is far worse.

Trust me.
Bear, still.

Now, perhaps you'd like
to explain why you're breaking

into Jason Greenfield's apartment

and taking his possessions,
including that watch.

I'm not a thief.

Read the back.

"To Jason Greenfield
from the Sloan family."

You knew him?

Jason was my foster brother.

I'm here 'cause I'm trying
to solve his murder.

(CHUCKLING)

It's... me and Jason.

His parents were addicts.

They burnt the house down
cooking meth when he was 14.

My mom and dad
had started fostering, so...

...instant brother.

When he was 18,
my parents gave him this.

You know, just...
just to remind him

that no matter what,
he always had us.

- I just wish he believed it.
- What do you mean?

Jason always messed around
with hacking.

And after moving out,
he got more obsessed,

and spent more and more time
with other hackers.

Finally just fell off the map.

Two weeks ago, I'm looking at
another investigator's case files,

and I see his name.
I couldn't believe it.

I mean, he swore
that he would never start using.

Now, he dies of an OD?

- People do change.
- Not Jason.

Not-not... Not about that.

The minute I walked in, I knew.

I mean, I've been to the homes
of a lot of heroin addicts who died.

You know what you don't see?

High-end TV.

Stereo.

Gold watch, huh?

It all goes to getting their fix.

You think someone killed him,
then covered it up. Why?

I'm not sure. But let's
take a look at what isn't here.

No computer, no tablet, no phone.

What kind of hacker
doesn't have a computer?

It does seem strange.

You found nothing with any data
in it whatsoever?

I found a flash drive
in the microwave before you came in.

Looks like he fried it.

May I?
I'd like to help if I can.

Jason may have tried to destroy
the contents of the drive.

Yes, it's largely been wiped clean.

Wait.
There's a fragment of stray data.

It's a piece of an e-mail.

- What does it say?
- I can only recover a few words.

"You don't understand.
If I try to leave, they'll kill me".

The question is, who are they?

And What is this?

I found it in Jason's jacket.

It's an address for...

...a storage unit.

That is weird.

Our guys checked.
He didn't have a storage unit.

(MAN SPEAKING IN RUSSIAN)

Yeah, sure.

Hmm.

That's one way to lower
your cholesterol.

HR's protection payment.
Dirty money for dirty cops.

Deliver it as usual. Then find out
where it goes from there.

- I can't do that.
- Do you really wanna test me?

'Cause I've got a shiny new 1911
to back me up on that.

What did Morozov say to you
back there?

Beats me.
I don't speak Russian.

That's funny, 'cause it looked like
you understood every word.

Look.

Morozov's been running
that deli since I was a kid.

HR knows that and respects it.

These payments are about loyalty.

(SCOFFING)
Let me tell you something, Laskey.

One day soon,
you're gonna find out

exactly what HR expects from you
in return for that loyalty.

(ENGINE STARTING)

- WOMAN: You get a good look at her?
- MAN: She came outta nowhere.

Got your message, Lionel.
Looks like you found Root's car.

Yeah, and a crazy story
to go with it.

Guy over there says
this medical supply van

was just stolen by two women
driving that car.

One waves them down,
engine trouble.

When he goes to take a look,

the other one knocks him out
with some kind of martial arts.

I hate to tell you,
but Root and Shaw,

they're working as a team,
a scary one.

A thank you would be nice.

Finch, I'm closer to Root and Shaw.

From what I'm seeing,
it looks less like

an abduction and
more like a partnership.

A partnership?
To what end?

No idea, but with Root involved,
anything's possible.

A troubling development,
Mr. Reese,

and I'm afraid I have another one.

It seems that Mr. Sloan's
foster brother Jason

may have been murdered
by some mysterious group.

You think that same group might
be the threat against Sloan?

The only way to know for sure
would be to determine

who killed Jason and why.

Are you sure you don't need
my help on this?

No, Mr. Reese,
tracking Ms. Shaw is your top priority.

All right.

But, Finch,
I'm here if you need me.

So I just got off the phone with
the manager from the storage center.

Unit 117 was rented out
to a guy named John Glover.

Now, he recognized
Jason's description,

said that Jason was
one of a bunch of people

who used to visit that unit
at all hours.

The day after Jason died,
those same people

came back in,
cleaned the place out,

scrubbed it from top to bottom
with bleach.

Did they have a photo ID
on file for John Glover?

No. Glover paid a full year
in advance with cash.

- For all we know...
- Glover may not even exist.

Let's see if any other storage units
have been rented using that name.

No other rentals under John Glover,
but there, in Brooklyn,

another unit paid
for a full year in cash

and rented the same day
they cleared out John Glover's unit.

- Who rented that one?
- Samuel Miles.

Wait.

John Glover? Samuel Miles?
That's the connection.

Glover and Miles are both generals
in the American Revolution.

Hardly seems like a coincidence.
Let's go find that storage unit.

(ELECTRONIC CHATTER)

SHAW: So this mission we're on,
what is it?

ROOT: You'll find out soon enough.

When you see this statue again,
think impact.

The Machine told you that?

I suppose I could be making it up.

And I suppose I could be
kicking your ass.

Insurance.

And where are we headed to now?

Down.

SHAW: Spaghetti and an oxygen tank
make a mean thermal lance.

- What am I cutting?
- This.

You know, the last time
I used a blow torch

was to get intel
from an uncooperative source.

Now, you either tell me
what we're here to do, or I walk.

Honestly?

Most of the time,
I'm told what to do

a second before I have to do it.

The big picture, that's hers.

The only thing
I know for sure is...

I ".need" .you.

Then you should get out of my way.

Wait.

Safety first.

(SIZZLING)

SLOAN: Funny, the stuff
you learn from work.

My truck's
stuffed with crowbars,

key cutters, and bump hammers.

Never know what you're gonna
need for the job.

Let's see what the people who
killed my brother were doing here.

I don't get it.
This is empty too.

Why pay for a storage unit a year
in advance and put nothing in it?

Look at the dust.

A lot of activity
along this wall here.

They are storing something here.

We just need to shine a light
of a different spectrum,

the kind somebody like you
might use to detect fluids.

You have anything like that
in your truck?

I do.

SHAW: Okay, so you don't
know what we're doing.

Can you at least tell me
what we're doing next?

Breaking and entering.

(LOCK OPENING)

Locked door.

Phone.

- What's missing?
- Behind you.

(TOILET FLUSHING)

(GASPING)

(GRUNTING)

(TASER FIRING)

Highly trained operative
in a bad suit.

This is a CIA pickup site.

(PHONE DIALING)

(PHONE RINGING)

- MAN: Agent number?
- 947-0038 Alpha.

Confirmation?
- Diego 241.

Pickup tomorrow, 0800.

Have the package ready.

Okay, so what's the package?

I am.

(ELECTRONIC CHATTER)

Here you go. UV lamp.

Kill the lights.

SLOAN: Oh, my God.

What is this?

A message center,

for people who want to communicate
without being overheard.

Question is...

...what are they saying?

(BEAR WHINING)

That's weird.
Look at those sprinkler heads.

They're not attached
to the same pipes

that service the other units.

Right there.

Looks like some kind of motor.

(BEAR WHINING, BARKING)

Camera. Oh, dear.
We've gotta get...

SLOAN: We're locked in!

It's gasoline!

They're gonna burn
the place down with us in it.

(BANGING)

Mr. Reese.

(EXPLOSION)

(ELECTRONIC CHATTER)

FINCH: I believe I know who
tried to burn us alive.

The last time I saw code like this,
it was used by this man.

Peter Collier.

He's a member of a group
trying to send a message

about government surveillance
and privacy.

And he'll kill anyone
who gets in his way.

So far, Collier's
the most visible member

of the group,
and your foster brother,

Jason Greenfield,
was likely a member as well.

But Jason would never hurt anyone.

Well, that may not have been
his role in the group.

The e-mail I recovered
from Jason's flash drive

contained an identifier string

that I was able to match
to a conversation

on the Darknet,
an exchange between hackers,

one of whom
was being lauded for exploits

that were nothing short
of astonishing.

The hacker goes
by the name of "Atlas7",

but their real identity seems clear.

- My brother.
- Indeed.

The targets he chose are all
government, military,

data-collecting corporations.

Perhaps that's what put him
on Collier's radar.

So they teamed up, and at some point,
Greenfield tried to get out.

And they killed him.

They may be coming after you now.

- Me?
- These people value privacy.

Secrecy above all else, Mr. Sloan.

- By uncovering them...
- You kicked the hornet's nest.

The best way to protect you
from Collier

is to find out what he's up to
and get out ahead of it.

The messages
in the storage units

appear to have been encrypted
with a running key cipher.

We find the key, we break the code.

- So what's the key?
- A long string of text.

A letter, a book.

Jason would've had that key, too.

- So it must be in his apartment.
- I'll go check it out.

And I'll go somewhere where I can do
more in-depth research.

Hey. I'm coming with you.

You should stay here.

You're looking for the key
to this code, right?

Well, there's something I do
better than anybody else,

and that's finding things
that people keep hidden.

Please.

Let me do it for Jason.

Come on.

(ELECTRONIC CHATTER)

(KNOCKING)

CIA is here to pick us up.

- Any last words?
- 24381.

Whatever.

(CLEARING THROAT)

PIN?

24381.

Good to meet you, Agent Dearborn.
She been sanitized?

(CRACKLING)

- Looks like you got a fun one.
- You don't know the half of it.

Laskey, it's Simmons.

Go see your pal Morozov.
I think he needs your help.

(DOOR RATTLING)

Who are you?
Where's Morozov?

Exactly what I called you here
to talk about.

When's the last time you counted
the money you got from Morozov?

You think he's been skimming?

Boss, I've known Morozov
my entire life.

- He values HR.
- Laskey. You're a rookie,

so I'm gonna let you off
with a lesson this time.

You need to learn the difference
between knowing someone

and trusting them.
See, this kid I can trust.

Because he values HR?
No.

It's because he's scared of us.

- You got it?
- Yeah.

- Thanks for the lesson, boss.
- That ain't the lesson.

Old man Morozov made the mistake
of pulling a gun

when I called him out as a thief.

There's a shovel in the backseat.

Six feet, kid.

Don't skimp.

(ELECTRONIC CHATTER)

MAN: Cells one
through three secure, sir.

(DOOR OPENING)

Hope the voice in your head
knows what it's doing.

- That's gotta go.
- Sundown, Ottawa.

Left, right, left, right,
one, two, three.

You say the sweetest things.

Agent Dearborn? Nick Breckenridge.
Chief interrogator.

Little late to be checking in
a new asset.

We're prepping all prisoners
for transport.

Transport?
We just got here.

You know the drill, Dearborn.

We move these guys
every 72 hours.

You get to interrogate indefinitely.
Now, I need some info.

(FEEDBACK)

Encrypted radios always acting up.

- Name of operation?
- Sundown.

- Asset's place of origin?
- Ottawa.

Transport authentication number?

Should have gotten it from the
operative guarding the pickup site.

Stress was high on this one.

Must have forgot.

You NOC types
think you can just come in here

and ignore all kinds
of protocol, don't you?

No authentication number,
no access.

(FEEDBACK)

- Does anybody know how to...
- Left, right.

Left, right, one, two, three.

(BEEPING)

We use them all the time
at the farm.

Give that to the intake guard
at the next site.

And next time, remember
your damn authentication number.

REESE: Still searching
Greenfield's apartment, Finch.

Keep looking, Mr. Reese.

None of the books you've found
so far match the code.

- The kitchen's clean.
- No luck here either.

All right, it's gotta be somewhere.

(RUMBLING)

- Scavenger hunt.
- What?

It... It's a game
that Jason and I used to play

when we were bored.

We would steal something
from each other.

Then we'd hide it in the house,
except Jason would always lose

because he always chose
the same place.

The heating vent.

Care to brush up
on your history, Finch?

The American Revolution:
A Concise History.

Why am I not surprised?
Let me see.

I've located a copy online.

It seems to match the algorithm
the code is based on.

- I'll start deciphering.
- Great. Sloan and I...

(THUDDING, SHATTERING)

MAN: Where's Sloan?

Grab him!
Hurry, we're on the clock here.

- Get out of here!
- Mr. Reese?

Mr. Reese?

Mr. Reese, are you all right?

- MAN 1: Let's go.
- MAN 2: Shots fired.

He's with the guy in the suit.

- Mr. Reese.
- Collier.

Mr. Reese, are you all right?

You're right, Finch.
It's Collier. Sloan's gone.

And we have no way to track him.

I'm afraid it gets worse.

I've deciphered enough
of the code to learn its purpose.

It's a plan to kill
Jason Greenfield tonight.

Greenfield?

Isn't he already dead?

You can't keep moving me
like this.

I'm an American!
I have rights.

Do you even know my name?

Jason Greenfield, I presume?

JASON: How do you know my name?

I know a lot about you, Jason.

I know you hacked government sites
for a fringe group of activists,

got squeamish when the group
turned violent,

cut a deal with the feds
in exchange for a new life,

and got screwed over by them
and stuck in here.

Who the hell are you?

Answer me.

We're on a bit of a clock here,

so let's dispense
with the temper tantrum.

To answer your question,
I'm like you.

FBI Trojan horse of 2009,
the null worm.

What, that was you?

That thing infected over
seven million computers worldwide

in less than a week.
If you designed the worm,

then you must be able
to tell me how...

A self-executing attachment
rewrites the OS

to infect nearby Bluetooth devices
and spread wirelessly.

That was a long time ago.

I'm more interested in you, Jason.

Well, Jason doesn't exist anymore.

Those CIA liars faked my death.

It was supposed to be
for my protection.

In return, I give them everything
about the group.

Instead, they brought me
to this mobile black site.

And now, they can
question me forever.

Must have gotten bad for you to reach
out to people you don't trust.

The group murdered someone.

A data broker.

And it's my fault.

I'm the one who told Vigilance
about him in the first place.

- Vigilance?
- That's their name.

"Eternal vigilance is
the price of liberty."

I said we should scare the bastard,

but Collier convinced the group
that it was time for more...

...aggressive action.

I'm not a killer.

MAN: Transport's here.

(EXHALING) Prepare to move out.

So you never told me
why you're here.

Simple, Jason.

I'm here for you.

- MAN 1: Move out.
- MAN 2: Got it.

I'll be a ride-along.

I'm not letting this one
out of my sight.

(LOCKING)

(ENGINE STARTING)

So Sloan's dead brother
is really alive?

REESE: Yes, it seems Jason Greenfield
turned himself in to the CIA.

And now, Collier wants
to kill him for being a traitor.

Precisely.

According to the plan,
the assassination of Mr. Greenfield

is scheduled to take place
within the hour.

They're probably going to interrogate
Sloan on the way to their mission.

If we can find where they're
going to kill Greenfield,

then we have a chance
to save them both.

Just give me a location, Finch.

Got it. An intersection downtown.

- I'm sending you the coordinates.
- I'm on my way.

(ELECTRONIC CHATTER)

So you're his brother.

Jason said he had no family.

What made you choose
to look into him now?

None of your business.

You know what?
That is right.

We members of Vigilance
value privacy,

even if the government doesn't.

However, when you started digging
into Jason's life,

you also dug into ours,
our methods, our plans,

which brings me
to some rather bad news.

We took a vote as to whether
we could possibly let you live,

and I'm afraid it didn't go your way.

My options at this point are limited,

but what I can offer you
is a quick exchange of words

followed by an even quicker death.

I need to know exactly
how much you know

about our group and who you've told.

Let's start with those two men
I've seen you with.

Who are they?
Feds? NSA?

I don't know, okay?

I don't know
why they're helping me.

I don't know why they care.

All I know is Jason made a mistake
falling in with you guys.

And when he realized it
and he tried to get out,

you killed him for it.

Seems you've gotten ahead
of things, Mr. Sloan.

Jason Greenfield is very much alive.

- You didn't kill him?
- No.

But we are about to.

And you're gonna have
a front row seat.

MAN: We're here.

Things are about to get a bit hectic.

We'll have to continue
this conversation later.

Until then, Mr. Sloan.

(GROANING)

Finch, I'm at the intersection.
And there is Collier's van.

Be careful, Mr. Reese.

- What are you doing?
- In ten seconds, brace yourself.

For what?

Impact.

- Shaw?
- Now.

(BRAKES SCREECHING)

- Mr. Reese, what's happening?
- Go, go! Move!

I just found Shaw.
Unfortunately, so did Collier.

(ELECTRONIC CHATTER)

(AUTOMATIC GUNFIRE)

So good to hear your voice.

Time to go, Jason.

(GRUNTING)

SLOAN: Jason?

- Shaw.
- Reese.

- Gotta save somebody.
- Know the feeling.

JASON: I saw somebody out there.

Tim Sloan.
Do you know why he's here?

- Is he okay?
- Did you see a man heading his way?

Tall, nice suit?

- Yeah.
- He'll be fine.

Your new identity and the pass code
to a bank account with $2.5 million.

Go to Cartagena, find a bar
called Sol Azul in Boca Grande.

- Ask for Ruiz.
- Who's he?

I have no idea.

Now go.

Why?
Why are you helping me?

I'm just following orders.

But my guess is you're necessary.

MAN: There she is.
(GUN CLICKING)

I guess a software omniscience isn't
much help if you're out of bullets.

All right, bitch.
Where's Greenfield?

Hmm.

MAN 2: Why are you smiling at us?

I'm not smiling at you.

(GUNFIRE)

- I knew you'd come back for me.
- Mission accomplished?

- Absolutely.
- Good.

COLLIER: That's far enough,

assuming you'd like Mr. Sloan
to survive this encounter.

Peter Collier.

You seem to know my name.

One of 'em.

But I can't say the same about you.

I'm the guy you shot in the back,
and I'm here to return the favor.

Well, before you do, perhaps
you'd like to tell me how it is

you manage to keep showing up
at Vigilance operations.

I'm persistent.

And energy and persistence
conquer all things.

Benjamin Franklin.

You guys got a thing for the
American Revolution, don't you?

That's true.

In fact, it may soon be time
for another one.

- Forget it, Collier. It's over.
- But only for one of us.

You can take me,
or you can save Sloan.

(SLOAN SHOUTING)

(TIRES SQUEALING)

Finch, Collier shot Sloan
in the femoral artery.

We need help.

There's an ambulance on the way,
Mr. Reese.

Hang in there.
You're gonna be all right.

(SIRENS)
(BREATHING HEAVILY)

(PHONE RINGING)

SIMMONS: You learn your lesson, Laskey?

Six feet.
I didn't skimp.

How was your night, Laskey?

Sleep good?

My name is Mikhail Lesnichy.

There are 12
of us Russians on the force.

So HR is seeding the NYPD
with cops they know will be loyal

and cementing their deal with
the Russian mob in the process.

What about that money you got
from Morozov?

HR's stockpiling it.

I don't know what for, but
whatever it is, they have millions.

Hmm.

It gets worse than last night,
you know.

What's worse than burying a friend?

REESE: Good to see you out
of the hospital, Mr. Sloan.

You're looking well.

I can't thank you guys enough,
not just for saving me

but for helping me find my brother,
even if it was for a second.

You helped us as much
as we helped you.

Indeed, you've proven yourself
to be quite a fine detective,

one worthy of Raymond Chandler.

They're packing up Jason's stuff
for auction today,

so I figure I'd stop in
and take one last look around.

Maybe find a remembrance?

- Already have one.
- It suits you.

Good luck, Mr. Sloan.

(PHONE RINGING)

Excuse me.

- Hello?
- JASON: Tim? Tim Sloan?

Jason? Where are you?

You wouldn't believe me
if I told you.

Listen, I've managed to create
a secure stream,

so we can talk, but it'll only
last 30 seconds or so, and...

I just wanted to tell you thanks.

Those guys I got involved with,

I thought I'd found a new family,
but I should've known.

- You're my family.
- Jason...

I want you to know
that I have something of yours,

and I'm gonna hold on to it
until next time.

That sounds good, Tim.

You'll always be my brother.

(PHONE BEEPING)

We're gonna have to keep
an eye on him.

Collier may try again.

If Vigilance wants a revolution,
these may only be the opening shots.

Equally troubling, The Machine
appears to have sent two teams

into the same battle
with different goals.

Why keep us in the dark
about Root and Shaw?

Speaking of which, have you figured
out what to do with Root yet?

There are more comfortable chairs,
if you'd rather...

(CLINKING)

Not to mention a padded bench,

which doubles as quite
a comfortable bed,

albeit a small one.

And all within the proximity radius

programmed into my lovely
new ankle accessory.

I found out the hard way
what happens if I cross it.

Just making sure you have
everything you need.

Well, there's no shortage
of reading material.

That's for sure, Harold.

Keeps the mind occupied.

You know damn well who's supposed
to be occupying my mind.

I'm afraid that's
out of the question.

I suppose that even if I managed
to get access to a wireless device,

the Faraday cage
you've constructed in here

would prevent me
from communicating with her.

Your powers of deduction are,
as ever, impeccable.

And your choice of pronoun,
illuminating.

Well, if there's nothing else...

You're going against The Machine's
wishes by keeping me here, Harold.

You're only gonna make her angry.

Can you imagine what a being that
powerful will do when she's angry?

How can you be so certain,
Ms. Groves,

that The Machine does not wish you
to be precisely where you are?

(English US - SDH)