All language subtitles for Person of Interest - 02x17 - Proteus.DIMENSION.English.HI.C.updated.Addic7ed.com

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.

Sync and corrections by n17t01
www.addic7ed.com

[Electronic beeps, buzzes]

_

_

The storm warning
is for the coastal areas

of Nassau
and Suffolk counties,

including East and South Hampton
and Owen Island.

Heavy rains
and destructive winds

will continue
into the night.

Residents are advised
to prepare for evacuation.

[Thunder crashes]

Isn't this service vest
a little unethical?

I am handi-capable, Mr. Reese,
but I need some assistance.

We don't want to exclude Bear
from our rainy day activities.

We should have seen
Once Upon A Time In The West.

Fewer subtitles.

Any word from our
dearly departed Agent Shaw?

Not a whisper.

What worries me more at
the moment is that we haven't

heard anything from
the machine recently either.

Yes, I've noticed.
Three days. No numbers.

Maybe we're finally
cleaning up the streets.

As much as I'd like that,

I have to wonder if it hasn't
got something to do

with the actually
departed Kara Stanton.

The virus that she uploaded
during the time you spent

in your bomb vest
could easily have spread

from the Department
of Defense systems,

all the way
to the machine.

You built the machine, Finch.
Can't you access it?

You know,
check under the hood?

I sealed it for
a reason, Mr. Reese.

I'm afraid you're going
to have to wait and see

what Stanton's employers
have in mind for the future.

[Phone rings]

[Phone rings]

[Indistinct electronic voices]

[Electronic static]

Maybe your machine
really is on the fritz.

Has this ever
happened before, Finch?

It's a precedent.

It gave us all six
numbers at once?

Spread out across
the country like this.

Very worrisome.

Stranger yet, I can find no
solid connection between them.

Maybe they're
plotting something together.

Or someone's plotting
against them.

I wondered that.
[Thunder rumbling]

Three of the six numbers
are listed on the NCIC

missing persons database.

Two of the others dropped
off the grid entirely.

No digital footprint at all.

People with something to hide
or hiding from something.

And there's one local.
Jack Rollins.

He's an antiques dealer
in Brooklyn.

He hasn't been
reported missing yet.

That could be the next target.

I'll go say hi.

I'll enlist Carter's help
looking into the other five.

And I'll keep an eye

on the machine's
erratic behavior.

[Electronic bleeping]

Looks like Rollins
runs his shop

out of his apartment, Finch.

There's no answer,
so I'm going to let myself in.

Rollins' taste
in antiques is exotic.

No sign of the man himself.

[Gun uncocks]

But someone was already here
and went to a lot of effort

to dig up a bill
for a rental property

out on Owen Island.

I found the account
for Jack Rollins' Visa.

Payments on the beach property
and a train ticket

to Suffolk County,
all in the last 24 hours.

Rollins was in a hurry
to get out of the city.

And we're not the only ones
looking for him.

Heading out in
a storm like this?

Rollins is running
from something.

I'll find out
what's on Owen Island.

Mr. Reese,
is that a good idea?

Storm or no, Finch,
if Rollins is our one lead,

I'm headed
to the beach.

[Indistinct chatter]

Next time you need a favor,
can we wait till after

the monsoon season?

Thanks for your help, Moss.

- These files seem a little thin.
- Because the cases are thin.

Dozens of reasons people
step off the grid.

Bad credit, old rap sheet.

I mean, hell, sometimes people
just disappear, Detective.

First person to go missing
was a French student

studying abroad at Stanford,
seven years ago.

Post-collegiate wanderlust.
Wouldn't be the first.

What's your interest?

What's the name
at the bottom of that file?

It's on the others too.

Alan Fahey.

Desk jockey
at our CCSR branch.

Handles cybercrimes,
identity theft,

mostly white collar stuff.

Looks like he files
one hell of a report.

Yeah, he has
a lot of notes.

Seems like
he's on to something.

If you want,
I can give him a call.

- See what he's--
- No, that's okay.

I can handle the follow-up.

Well, I'm gonna
beat the rain home.

Okay.

Agent Moss?

I've been doing this job
a long time.

Heh, probably too long.

All that business
about Cal Beecher...

what do you know?

Been doing my job
for a long time too.

And not having those IAB files,
I can only surmise,

but the kind of red flags
they put up,

Beecher is bad news.

Steer clear, Carter.

Okay...

[Cell phone rings]

This is Special Agent Fahey.

This is Detective Carter
of the NYPD.

I've been looking through
some missing person files

that have your notes
on them.

The cases were connected
through one potential MO,

something about missing
or destroyed photos

you uncovered at more than one
potential crime scene.

Have you been able to chase down
any new leads on that MO?

I work out of headquarters
in DC, Detective.

I don't chase leads.
I write reports...

that no one reads.

Right. But I might
have a new informant

with additional information
for this case.

Well, I put all that
information together months ago.

I called the NYPD at the time.
No one there was helpful.

No one had
anything to add.

Now something suddenly
just popped up?

It's a confidential source.

Confidential from the FBI?
Nice try.

Call the Bureau Liaison
if you have any new information,

otherwise have a nice day.

[Dial tone]
[Chuckles]

[Electronic voice]
Congratulations on your new...

[Electronic beeps, buzzes]

They're evacuating
the island, Finch.

But I made it out
to Rollins' rental house.

Where are you?

Well, I'm back
at Rollins' in Brooklyn.

Bumping around in the dark.
[Thunder rumbling]

Storm knocked out a transformer
down on the street

and all power within
a nine-block radius.

Why go back there?

Detective Carter
spoke with an FBI agent

who's discovered a pattern
in the crimes.

There were no photographs
of the missing persons

at their homes.

So I'm looking for photos,
or a lack thereof.

What's this?

"Basement storage."

I'm gonna take
a look downstairs, Bear.

Nothing to worry about.

[Dog barks]

Empty photo frames.
Just like the others.

Mr. Reese, I've found
something interesting

in Rollins' basement.

Finch, I didn't copy.

Finch?

[Creaking]

Finch?

I'm not alone.

[Dog whimpering]

Bear?

[Dog barks]

What are you doing?

[Dog barking
and whimpering]

What is it?

Mr. Reese, I think
I know what happened

to all those
missing people.

FBI, don't move.

Hands up. I want
to see some ID.

Well, which is it?

You want my hands up,
or you want to see ID?

Jennings.
US Marshals Service.

I'm trying to locate someone,
a guy named Rollins.

Got some questions for him.

You looking for Rollins?
Me too.

I believe
he's connected to--

To another
missing persons case.

We believe a wanted fugitive
may be looking for Rollins.

Is he here?

I don't know.
I just started looking.

Well, why don't
we take our weapons

off each other
and clear this house?

Trail was hot on Rollins,
but no one at HQ

would get off their hands,
follow up the lead.

So I decided
to come out here myself.

[Thunder rumbles]

You out here all alone?

Well, it's been
a few years since Quantico,

but I remember a thing or two
about working in the field.

Well, you're
on the right trail.

Rollins was here recently,
he couldn't have gotten far

in this storm.

My car is outside.

Why don't we head
to the local police station?

We're gonna need
a few more guys on this.

Someone tried
to destroy these teeth.

But the flame wasn't hot enough
to burn enamel.

It could take
some time, but...

if the vic's dentals
are on file,

we could get an ID.

No, we can't wait that long.

Assuming that the teeth
belong to Jack Rollins,

he was likely dead
when they were removed.

One would hope so, anyway.

Well, whoever did this
knows how to get rid of a body.

They didn't just
want to kill Rollins,

they wanted him
to disappear.

We may be looking at more than
a string of missing persons.

We may be looking
at a string of murders.

Six victims.

If our killer can
assume these identities,

then he would be a composite
of all these missing persons

in more ways than one.

We're looking
at a serial killer.

Finch, what are you doing?

Mr. Reese is out on an island
looking for a man violent enough

to pull out
another man's teeth.

And now I can't warn him.
I have to get there myself.

I'm pretty sure
all the roads are closed now.

How do you think
you're gonna get out there?

Think I'll use
my pilot's license.

I got a nor'easter
touching down right now.

I've got a population
of 357 souls

I've got to get off this island
before I can't anymore.

Chief of police is running
the evacuation on the mainland.

I'm the law left in the town
with half its ass underwater.

This is a matter
of federal importance.

- We're looking for this man.
- Don't recognize him.

But if he was a renter,
he's probably been evacuated.

Chief? Chief, come in.

Mind if we at least
make a few phone calls

- while we're here?
- Sure.

If the cell
and land lines weren't down,

the power wasn't out,
and the emergency radio

didn't pick today
to crap out on me.

- Anything else?
- Yeah. How's your coffee?

Hey, gents, you may have
jurisdiction and authority here,

but one thing you don't have
is my cooperation.

For now, mother nature
takes priority.

[Thunder rumbling]

Look, Marshal, we can't afford
to sit around here

with or without
the deputy's help.

I don't think we're on the trail
of just a missing person here.

I think Rollins is dead,
and he may not be the only one.

I think we're on the trail
of a cold-blooded killer.

You didn't want
to share this earlier?

Well, I didn't
know all the facts.

Technically,
it's still just a theory.

Tell me, what do you know
about making a body disappear?

[Electronic beeps, buzzes]

This place
is a ghost town.

Yeah. Our uni's
out are storm patrol.

What brings you down here?

You.

I would have called,
but you're not answering those,

are you?

So I decided to drop by,
and maybe you could tell me

what I did wrong.

Cal, I'm working on something.
I'll talk when I can.

I guess
I'll check in later.

[Electronic beeps, buzzes]

So how'd you get
stuck on the island?

We got water in the muffler
and the engine died,

so we came here--
Carly and I.

That's my new bride
Carly over there.

We just got married.
We're both dental hygienists.

- Did I say that?
- Yes.

What did you mean earlier
when you said Rollins

wasn't the only one?

[Sighs]

I think we're on the trail
of several crimes.

I'm looking at multiple murders
across multiple states.

The killer must have taken
the identity of his victim

before moving on.

I followed the trail back
to that student at Stanford,

then I worked forward.

It turns out every victim
of the killer moved cities

within 18 months
of vanishing.

Rollins moved to New York.

So I went to New York,
found the rental bill.

Followed him out here
to Owen Island.

Whoever was
traveling as Rollins

could easily still
be on this island.

[Clatter]

[Wind whipping]

Hi. Erica, we just
lost the bridge.

When did this happen, Stan?

A few minutes ago.

I locked up the bar,
I saw Becky finishing the boards

on the A&P.

We high-tailed it
down to the bridge

just in time
to see it go under.

No crossing it until
the tides go down.

- And who's this guy?
- Dennis Cunningham.

I picked a bad day
to check up on my hotel.

So you're the guy
building that hotel?

On my drier days.

We're 90 days out
on that property.

- If it washes away--
- There's more.

On the way here,
we saw someone.

Down by the docks.

Did it look like it was
trying to get off the island?

Looked like he was
prepping a boat for himself.

We have to get down there.

I've now got
five stranded people

and no way off this rock,
this is where I need to be.

Absolutely, Deputy.

So we'll go and bring
him back here for you.

Special kind of man
ricks his life in this weather

for a few crustaceans.

Whoa, fellas,
I'm just a fisherman.

There's a lot of money
in this haul.

I didn't know
I was breaking a law.

You have ID?

Don't get asked for it
on the water.

- What's your name?
- Ethan Mattson.

Well, Ethan,
you're on land now.

[Rattling]

- Who's with you?
- No one.

Hey!

I know you're there.

I've got 15 shots here.

Think it over.

No need for shooting!

I was just looking to get
away from this storm is all!

You from the island?

No, I was looking for
some work on the boats.

Got stuck out here by the storm,
thought I'd ride it out.

Let's get them both
back to the station.

[Airplane buzzing]

I don't care who you are,
you can't endanger my citizens

by landing your Cessna
in the middle of my town.

That's actually
a De Havilland Beaver.

What's going on here?

This amateur storm chaser
Harold Gull is under arrest.

He landed his float plane
in the town square.

I needed a stretch of water
to land and there was, well,

water everywhere.

- And what's all this?
- My meteorological equipment.

I've been a certified member
of the National Storm Chasers

and Spotters Association
for over ten years.

Deputy, despite
this man's recklessness,

could you book him
with endangering our lives

after the storm?

We have bigger things
to worry about.

Fine.

But when the storm ends,
I'm hitting him

with everything
I've got.

Hey, Stan, it's getting
dark out there.

You think you could
put some more diesel

in the gennie out back?

Yeah, sure.

The National Storm
Chasers Association, Harold?

Well, it worked, didn't it?

We were wrong.
This isn't a group conspiracy.

Those numbers,
they're all dead.

And we're tracking
their killer.

I know.

I had the displeasure
of seeing all that was left

of the real Jack Rollins,
molars and all.

Some twisted mind's
idea of a trophy.

What if the machine sent us
all six numbers to tell us

that someone had been
all of those people?

What if a smart killer
was interested not only

in taking lives,
but in taking identities.

Like a chameleon.

Changing into his victims,
living their lives

until he gets bored
and moves on to the next.

To identify such a killer,
we would want to consider

who he has been,
and what he might look like.

Okay, so how do you
spot someone who's that good

at being anyone else?

Excuse me, Marshal.

That FBI guy needs
to see you out back.

You need to see this.
Stanley put them out.

Someone used diesel
to try to cook the pile.

The killer
was here minutes ago.

He's close.

And he's shed
the "Rollins" identity.

Then he could
be anyone in there.

[Electronic beeps, buzzes]

If the killer
is among these people,

then he's out of his element--
he's broken his pattern.

Assuming the identities
of his victims,

it's part of his ritual.

And now that rollins' ID
is burned, he's trapped.

He must have taken on
another identity.

And he can't
go anywhere with it.

He's as stuck as we are.

Why didn't the machine
give us his real identity?

Why play games?

I assume he's smart,
and he digitally erased

his original persona.

I did.

Well, we need to find
a way to hunt him.

We might be able to,
Mr. Reese.

Are you familiar
with storm chasing?

[Electronic beeps, buzzing]

What are you watching?

Didn't know if you were
still too busy to talk to me.

Actually, I could use another
set of eyes on something.

Take a look.

This is a building-owned
security camera in Chicago

six months ago.

A missing persons I'm working.
Guy named Rollins.

This is him
leaving his shop,

and him coming back
the next day.

Oh, he moved to New York
soon after.

- What do you notice?
- That the same guy both times?

- Why do you ask?
- That's a close match.

But the guy locking up
is left-handed,

and the guy unlocking
is a righty.

He's also a couple
inches taller.

- Exactly.
- What are you looking at here?

- Some kind of elaborate robbery?
- Something much worse.

So let me get this straight.

You want me to conduct
a series of interviews

with everyone on the station
and you want this guy to help?

He's the only one
who arrived on this island

after the bridge went out.

I know he appears
a little strange,

but he does have some
interesting equipment

in those bags.

Yeah, well, unless he
has a fingerprint scanner

and the ViCAP database,
what does he have that we need?

Agent... Fahey, is it?

Are you familiar
with the Instantel seismograph?

Body armor?

I don't think we'll
be taking too much heavy fire

with this group.

Look, Jennings, I spend most
of my nine-to-five

tethered to a desk.

I've questioned a few embezzlers
and some identity thieves.

We're about to walk
into a room with a killer.

And I' be standing
right behind you.

Thank you, Mr. Amis.

I'm with the FBI,
looking for a missing person

on the island here.

I'd like to ask you
a standard series of questions,

and I'd appreciate
your cooperation.

- Okay, so ask.
- This is Jack Rollins.

I'm trying to establish
who had contact with him

on the island recently.

I don't recognize him.

We don't get too many tourists
this time of the year,

but I would have seen him
at the store.

Who do you recognize
at the station tonight, Becky?

I've known Stanley
most of my life.

- Who don't you recognize?
- That honeymoon couple for one.

And where did
you two meet?

- We met in Albany.
- We met in Albany.

Why didn't you
evacuate earlier?

I told you, I've got
a few thousand bucks

crawling around
in those traps

you made me leave down
on the docks.

So you disregarded
a state of emergency?

I had to preserve my catch.

You often pull in traps
all by yourself?

- How's it going?
- Good.

See all these tiny waves?

They're called microseisms,

and all these little bumps
are the heartbeat.

The needle picks it up
like it would a tectonic shift,

and it's picking up a lot.

- And everyone else?
- I'm getting clean readings.

The metal in the table
amplifies it.

Everyone is steady.

Stanley the bar owner
is a little below average,

but I think there might
be something wrong with him.

No, I just think
his blood alcohol level

could start a lawn mower.

- But that fisherman in there?
- He's nervous about something.

I know Ethan Mattson.

He's lived on Owen
for five years.

He gets into some trouble,
but he's good on the boats.

Do you wanna know
who I don't recognize?

Half of Owen knows
Cunningham Properties,

but I can't say I've ever
said "hi" to his face.

And that drifter?

I mean, who comes
to an island in winter

looking for seasonal work?

Ms. Winter, how long
have you been the Dean

of Student Affairs
at Stanford?

10-- no, 11 years.

I'm wondering
if you could shed light

on a former student
who went missing.

Henri Musset?
He graduated--

In 2005. I remember Henri.
He was an international student.

He went missing
right after he graduated.

Police called for weeks.

Inspectors from France,
even Interpol.

There was a digital trail
on the boy in San Diego,

18 months after graduating.

Just as we told
the authorities then,

Henri never left
a forwarding address.

We often lose touch
with recent alumni until

they settle down somewhere.

So the last time Henri
was seen was on campus.

He lived in student housing.
Did he have a roommate?

[Keyboard clicking]

Yes. His last year, it was
a student named Alex Declan.

It says here-- huh.

What?

I just see a note
on Henri's housing form.

He requested a new roommate
his last semester.

The last semester
of his senior year?

- Does that happen often?
- Not usually.

Most seniors have a million
other things on their mind.

But the matter seems
to have been resolved.

Do you have
any records on Declan?

[Keyboard clicking]

That's strange.

Declan is listed in housing
as Henri's roommate,

but I can't find
his registration.

No student photo either.

Something must have
fallen through the cracks.

Dennis, you're
such a busy guy.

You don't get out
to the island very often.

I don't babysit
my properties.

But the hotel out here
was days behind schedule.

You think I want to slog around
this sandpit in the rain?

[Sighs] Victor,
you don't have an ID.

You don't have a solid alibi
for being here on the island

and, last of all,
for being down at the boatyard.

I told you.
I was passing through.

Recognize this?
It's yours.

You've got
a lot of D-rings.

Kind of weird.

Unless you're
a climber, or...

in the military.

[Thunder crashes]

[Knock on door]

Do you have
a heart problem?

Because right now,
yours is really pumping.

Owen Island Station,
this is Detective Joss Carter.

Eighth Precinct,
New York City,

calling on the emergency
police frequency.

Do you read me?
Over.

This is Deputy Schmidt
of the Owen Island PD.

Who is this?

[Static crackling]
Detective Carter

from New York City.

I have new information

for the US Marshal
on your island.

I need to speak
to him immediately.

Who is it?

Some detective from the city
got through,

said her name
was Carpenter-- Carter--

Ugh! The generator.

Do you read me?
Over.

[Crashing]

[Motor puttering]

[Motor puttering]

[Screams]

Oh, my God.
Is she-- is she dead?

[Static]

You shouldn't go out there.
The storm's pretty bad.

I'm following up on a lead,
it's urgent.

- I need to get to Owen Island.
- Whoa, yo, I can't let you do that.

- I don't care what lead it is.
- I'm going, Kyle.

I won't say it again.

Okay... but I'm driving.

What's going on here?

First you question us,
and now this?

You.
You were helping them.

What were they doing
in there, really?

They asked to use my equipment
for police business.

They were looking
for liars in the group.

Talking about
finding a killer.

Becky, what did
they ask you?

They asked me
who I recognized here.

- So who don't you recognize?
- Everyone please settle down.

You're building a hotel
on the other side of the island.

Nobody even
knows your face.

I have hundreds of business
contacts in the city.

Call any of them.

And what good did
that do, Harold?

Behavior analysis, John.
Just give it a minute.

What about you, Mr. Newlywed?
Nobody knows your face.

Wait a second,
I know his face.

Everybody, we're forgetting,
she was killed with a knife.

- So whose knife was it?
- I know whose it is.

That knife?
It's called a Ka-Bar.

Not exactly something
you pick up

at a local
bait and tackle.

I didn't hurt anybody.

You need to be
a special kind of person

to carry a weapon like that.

[Both grunting]

[Grunting]
Let me go.

That's what I thought.

I was lying.

Okay?

God help me, I was lying.
But I'm not a killer.

No. You're a Marine.

The knife.
The tattoo.

The D-rings clipped
to your bag.

You're on the run.

24th Meu
out of Camp Lejeune.

Second tour.

I couldn't go back.

I wanted to get
a boat to Canada.

I got stuck here.

So who else knew
you had that knife?

I don't know.

I mean, I came into the station
with the fisherman.

Wait, where
is the fisherman?

- He must have slipped out.
- I'll go after him.

If I don't come back,
get these people to safety.

[Thunder crashes]

So...

do you think we can cross
the entire state

before you say
a word to me?

What do you
want to talk about?

I can think
of some things.

Like how an NYPD detective
got aced out of the FBI

because she keeps bad company,
how about that?

What are you
talking about, the FBI?

Not a friend
of Internal Affairs, huh, Cal?

Joss, I'm in Narcotics.

We get pulled in by IAB
half-a-dozen times a year.

My neck of the woods
don't mean a thing.

It does to me.

Makes me wonder
about the man I trusted.

Oh, what,
you don't trust me?

[Engine revving]

You think I'm dirty?
That I'm on the take?

Is that what you think?

I don't know
what to think, Cal.

Yo, what did they
tell you about me?

[Gasps]

Beecher! Slow down!

[Tires screeching]

You serious?

What, you think
I'd hurt you?

I don't know.

But I don't
want to hurt you.

[Wind howling]

Marijuana.

This is what you were trying
to protect from the storm.

[Both grunting]

Unh! Unh!

Huh.

[Drops harpoon]

[Thunder crashes]

Oh, no, that couldn't be.

Unbelievable.

We're hunting a killer,
and instead we get

amateur drug night
in the sticks.

[Groaning]

You smuggle it in
on your boat?

Ah, don't say anything.
Just bleed if I'm right.

Ordinarily, I'd make sure
you went behind bars.

But I got bigger
fish to fry.

So you go
in the trunk.

FBI.

[Punch, thud]

[Thunder crashes]

What gave me away?

[Electronic beeping, buzzing]

How did you know?

The needle spiked
in between the interviews.

When I wasn't watching.

When you were resting
on the table.

You should keep an eye
on that heart rate.

I knew you were too good
at those interrogations.

Who are you really?

I could ask you
the same thing.

You're taller than
I would have thought.

And you cut your hair.

And you bought every minute
of the dedicated "Agent Fahey."

Yes, quite the performance.

Make a sound,
I start hurting innocents.

Let's take a walk.

I thought a bit more privacy
would do us some good.

You know, the walls
are closing in.

You have no place to run.
It's over.

It's over for Fahey, sure.

Just like it was
over for Rollins.

Was that before or after
you tore teeth out of his head

and threw them
in a furnace?

Damn things never burn.
Sloppy, I know.

But when the FBI's knocking
on your door,

you have to move faster
than you should.

Other agents
will come looking.

Like the last one?

Federal agents
always work in pairs.

But this hard-ass showed up solo
in a stupid blue windbreaker,

knocking on my door,
looking for Rollins.

He talked to me.

Seemed nervous.

A little out
of his element.

Right then I knew
I had him beat.

He left me no choice.
I had to kill him.

Then I realized
my only way off this island

was to become him.

Then this damn storm hits,
and some cowboy US Marshal

comes knocking.

I was stuck
as Special Agent Fahey,

so I improvised.

And the deputy.
Why harm her?

Well, I couldn't be sure
what she heard off the radio.

You always have
to be ready to improvise.

Honestly, the question
isn't who I am.

It's who you are.

I watched you all night.

I can always
spot an impostor.

I spotted you.

Are you like me?

You have no idea.

You're an amateur at this.

Not the way
I planned it, man.

I don't hurt people.

And I didn't kill
the FBI guy in that trunk.

But you're in the way,
so you go in the drink.

[Grunts]

Don't worry.

As cold as this water is,
it'll be quick.

[Grunting]

Hey, Ethan.

Oof! Uhh!

As quick as that?

Now that Fahey won't get far,
I think the mysterious Mr. Gull

might be my next
great challenge.

You'll never
get off the island.

By morning they'll come here
looking for the real Alan Fahey.

And they'll find him...

in the trunk of his car.

And what about you?

And what
about you?

And what about you?

And what about...

you?

You asked the question
and you're the answer.

Your plane.

You're gonna
fly me out of here.

You haven't outlived
your usefulness.

You could never be me
because I save lives.

You take them.

No, I live those lives better
than real people ever could.

I follow them and watch them
waste what they have.

I do those identities justice.

The things I've seen.

The lives I've lived.

One day I'll stop,
when I find the person

I'm meant to be.

What?

People like you don't stop.

You can rationalize it
however you like.

But you hurt people
because you like it.

Because you're sick!

You're maladjusted
and you need help.

On second thought,
maybe I'll find another way

off this island.

I'll miss finding out
more about you.

If there's anything
left to tell,

I'll make it up
as I go along.

Don't worry,
I'm good at that.

Just like you.

[Gunshot]

- You all right, Harold?
- Detective?

You have impeccable timing.

How did you get here?

I hitched a ride
with the Coast Guard.

And some very unpleasant people
inside said they thought

they saw you
come this way.

So is that him,
our identity killer?

He was pretending
to be an FBI agent.

He was really
rather good at it.

He had a badge
and a gun and a--

And what?

Body armor.

[Gunshot]

[Thunder rumbling]

[Electronic beeps, buzzes]

[Police radio chatter]

What are you doing?

It's a police station.

There's bound to be one
of these around here somewhere.

Hey, listen...

I don't know what happened
last night between us,

but, uh, I'm wondering
what happens today.

I don't know
what happens.

But I'm glad
you were here.

A drug smuggler shot at me
with a spear gun last night.

Is that a first for you?

Wish I could say yes.

Glad you made it back,
Mr. Reese.

I am too.

And I'm glad
the machine was right.

How so?

It was smart enough
to tell us about a killer

with multiple identities.

It may be true that the six
numbers were not a glitch,

but the three days of silence
preceding it were.

If the machine
had been working properly,

we might have gotten a number
for the real Alan Fahey

and saved him.

Instead, an
FBI agent is dead.

I wish I knew what that
means for the future.

At least the storm
is passing.

No, Mr. Reese,
I have a feeling

that it's
just beginning.

Sync and corrections by n17t01
www.addic7ed.com