All language subtitles for TBL.S10E03.720p.HDTV.x264

So let's do this, Virginia!
Let's get out the vote!

Because believe me, I
am just gettin' started!

Yes, sir!

Thank you!

One o'clock. Black jacket.
I'm gonna check him out.

- Copy that.
- Ladies and gentlemen, Thank you so much.

Thank you for coming.

Turn out your pockets for me.

Senator?
Senator Panabaker.

You've been campaigning
on fiscal responsibility,

but you voted this
week to increase

military spending
by $90 billion.

I don't
see the contradiction.

We need a strong
national defense,

but we also need to make sure
that money's spent responsibly.

What we can't have are
things like my opponent

securing no-bid contracts
for his employers.

That kind of sweetheart
dealing hurts our troops

- and our taxpayers.
- But Senator...

I'm sorry. I have
another event today.

That's all for now.
Thank you so much!

Thank you for
coming! Thank you!

My, my, my! Aren't you a
walking Hatch Act violation.

Just a regular civilian, out
here to support an old friend.

Oh, I love the sentiment.
I hate the "old" part.

Let's just call it friends
and leave it at that.

Gun! He's got a gun!

Ma'am, are you okay?
Have you been hit?

I'm... I'm disarmed.
I've been disarmed.

My gun's gone, too.

Do you have eyes on
the... You're bleeding.

Yeah, it... It's not mine.

Ohh!

Shots fired. Agent
down. Requesting backup.

Repeat, shots
fired. Do you copy?

My God. Harold.

What the hell just happened?

Resync By M_I_S
www.opensubtitles.org

It's this way.

These were once an oasis
for the wretched masses,

a respite from their
squalid tenements,

where plumbing was a pipe dream

and people were kicking
their filthy buckets

in great numbers.

Of course, it took an
angry public outcry

and several cholera epidemics
to convince the City Fathers

that their citizens needed
somewhere clean and wet

to relax with a bar of soap.

Fascinating, but
I can't keep doing

this back-and-forth
to New York from DC.

It's a terrible waste of time.

You didn't really fly me up
here to tour an old bathhouse?

- Well, no. I...
- Wait a minute.

Are you actually living here?

This place looks like
it should be condemned!

I don't think so.
It has great pipes.

And now that the steam
room's up and running, the...

Only a side project, Harold.

I summoned you up here for
more pressing business.

Is it Wujing? Has he
made some new alliance?

Plans on that front are
still in the planning stages.

Please.

But no. I want to discuss

the tribulations of
our dear Senator.

What a harrowing
experience for you both.

It was a matter of inches.

A few to the left, and
a Secret Service agent

would have been killed.

A few to the right, and Cynthia.

And that's not the only quandary
keeping you up at night.

How to explain
the stolen radios,

the disappearing guns?

It makes no sense.

We're talking about the
most highly trained,

dependable security
in the country.

And yet someone brought
them to their knees.

I'm afraid you won't
like the answer.

Pickpockets.

I'm sorry, but common thieves

did not disarm the
Secret Service.

I'm not referring to a gang
of delinquents, Harold.

These particular pickpockets
aren't scavengers.

They're apex predators.

One o'clock. Black jacket.
I'm gonna check him out.

- Copy that.
- Thank you all for coming. Thank you so much.

They study
their prey to determine

what action will provoke
the desired reaction.

We love you, Cynthia!

- Hey! Watch it!
- Ma'am. Ma'am, step back.

And
once their diversion

has you exactly
where they want you,

they sink their
teeth in so fast,

you never see them strike.

A highly coordinated ambush,

the entire pack moving as one.

Then they're gone.

Before you even knew
they were there.

They call themselves
the Four Guns.

Guns? So they are hitmen.

No. As I said,
they pick pockets.

It would be beneath their
dignity to threaten violence,

and they'd certainly
never use a weapon.

- So what's with the name?
- The Four Guns.

Gun as in gonif, the
Yiddish word for "thief."

But if they're not killers,

then why did they take
a shot at Panabaker?

I don't think they did.

Someone else was
there yesterday,

someone with a motive,

who knew the
pickpockets' skill set

and how to use it to make
Panabaker vulnerable.

And whoever that someone is,
they're going to try again.

How do we stop them?

Well, in this case,

it's going to take a thief
to catch an assassin.

Reddington has connected
our gang of pickpockets

to several high-yield
thefts, mostly covert jobs.

Driftstream Industries. A
major energy conglomerate.

They lifted a two-factor
authentication key

off their CTO, took
control of their system,

and threatened to cut off fuel

to half the power
plants in Texas,

fleecing the company
for millions.

Sometimes their work
gets more notice.

Oh, my God! Prince
Erik! I remember that.

They practically stole the crown

right off his head, poor idiot.

I'm sorry, but why are
we looking for them

when we should be focused
on finding a killer?

I mean, Panabaker's life
is on the line here.

And the Bureau is conducting
an extensive manhunt

for her would-be assassin,
but Reddington is confident

these pickpockets
aided in the attack.

That means finding them
will lead us to the shooter.

So how do we find them?

Start with the
scene of the crime.

You and Agent Zuma coordinate
with our Evidence Response Team.

Agent Ressler, you should meet

with the Senator's
security detail,

but I want to check
in on her first,

make sure she's holding up okay.

Agent Ives won't be
grabbing pickle jars

off any high
shelves for a while,

but I'm praying for him,
and I just want to get back

to what I was sent to DC to do.

Great answer, Senator.
But I was there, remember?

What do
you wanna hear?

That I'm terrified?

That my opponent's whipped
his base into such a frenzy

that someone actually
tried to kill me?

I've read your security file.

I know why you were assigned
a Secret Service detail.

One of those men
almost died for me.

Do you know what it's
like to ask a stranger

to make that kind of sacrifice?

Well, I'm no stranger,

but you put it all on the
line for me last year.

You kept me out of prison.

I want to repay my debt to you.

Has the cheese slid all
the way off your cracker?

There's a reason I
put it on the line,

and it wasn't Christian charity.

Reddington blackmailed me.

You said that was all forgotten.

Forgotten. But not forgiven.

I never want to be under
that man's thumb again.

Or anyone else on his team.

Look. I'm not here
to defend Reddington.

I can only focus on the future

and making sure that
you're still in it.

Cynthia... Please.

What do you need from me?

Boss asked me to
come here today,

- but I don't have a lot of time.
- Of course.

I just wanna say, I've
been where you are.

My partner, she, uh...

Anyway, I hope you're getting
the, uh, support you need.

Yeah, I'll wait
to deal with that

once you find the
man responsible.

You said you never saw his face.

You didn't try to pursue him.

My primary directive is
to protect the Senator.

If there were other
agents there, maybe,

but I would never abandon my
post to chase an assailant.

The shooter had to pass
through a metal detector

to enter the barricades, right?

Where'd the gun come from?

He shot Agent Ives with
his own service weapon.

You didn't see him
or even realize

that you'd been disarmed
until much later.

I don't know how he did it.

What if I told you
that he had help?

The passcode.

How'd you get it?

Patience and the
right vantage point.

Who looks over their shoulder
before they type in their code?

So that's it. We did
what you told us.

We don't want any
further part in... in...

whatever this is.

Do you know what it
means to be a patriot?

The tree of liberty

must be refreshed with
the blood of patriots.

I will not stop the bleeding...

until liberty is restored.

Senator, please, just hear me out.

Why press the
flesh for two hours

when you can spend five minutes

with someone who can actually
bankroll your campaign?

Wait a
minute. Wait a minute.

I need you to hush for a second.

Shelly, stop taking notes.

Yes, ma'am.

Actually, can
you step out for a minute, please?

Of course, Senator.

Thank you!

Is that door shut?

Yeah. What's wrong?

Jonathan, what I'm
about to say is not to leave this room.

Well,
this is interesting.

Heavenly Spheres. The
first text to suggest

Earth is not the
center of the universe.

A humbling reminder to us all.

Reading this was forbidden
by Sacred Decree.

They only printed 400 copies,
so a first edition like yours...

I'm prepared to offer you 1.2.

I'm not selling.

I want to make a
trade for something.

Uh, we have a beautiful Audubon.

Something from
your private collection.

Private?

I'm sure I don't
know what you mean.

Oh, but I'm sure you do.

I recognized your
book immediately.

It was reported stolen from
the Polish Academy of Sciences.

And two minutes ago, you
wanted to buy it from me

for a million-two.

Shall we dispense
with the sanctimony?

Ah.

Their shimmer comes from an
industrial byproduct... arsenic.

The Victorians were mad for it.

Put it in wallpaper,
linen, lingerie.

And when they went truly
mad from toxic exposure,

doctors thought it was
hysteria, "witch fever."

We know better now.

Which is why these
books have been removed

from most other
private collections.

And if one were to
remove the slipcover?

Time has increased
their potency.

As the binding deteriorates
and flakes off,

the arsenic enters your lungs,

eventually causing
total collapse.

I know exactly which one I want.

Are you prepared to own
something so deadly?

-Oh, it isn't for me. It's for a friend.
-Hm.

I didn't request anything.

Special delivery.

Courtesy of Raymond Reddington.

Oh, then I definitely
don't want it.

Took a lot of juice
to smuggle it in.

And I wouldn't refuse a gift

from a man with
that kind of reach.

Please. I taught him
everything he knows.

Which is half of what I know.

Believe me. He tries anything,
I'll see it coming a mile away.

And what about me?

I'm supposed to make
sure you take this.

Yeah. He'll probably kill you.

Hmm.

"Dear Robert, as Dickens
said, there are books of which

the backs and covers are
by far the best parts."

"Raymond."

Cryptic bastard.

You gonna keep it?

Dickens also said, "Get
hold of portable property,"

especially in a joint like this.

Evidence Response Team
recovered the firearms

and the radios stolen
from the Secret Service.

This is the gun that was
used in the shooting?

Where'd they find it?

Dumped in a rubbish
bin near the park.

Any CCTV cameras pointed
at that trash bin?

Unfortunately, no.

Say what you will about
mass surveillance in the UK,

we would've had you covered.

Reddington said the pickpockets
don't wear gloves, right?

- It would hinder their dexterity.
- Great.

So let's lift the
prints off this stuff.

ERT tested the whole box.
All the prints are smudged.

Pickpockets must have wiped
everything down before they tossed it.

All they got was half a
thumbprint on this radio.

Doesn't match either
agent or their families,

so it's almost certainly
one of our suspects.

But it's only a partial.

There aren't enough points
of comparison to make an ID.

I told you. It's a dead end.

There's no eyewitnesses,

no footage, no
physical evidence.

You said something
about a thumb.

I might be able
to work with that.

Can't read it. It's
not a full print.

Eh, my guy won't
need a full print.

Your guy? Who's your guy?

Thank God you called.

I was on the verge. Seriously.

I can't remember the last
adult conversation I've said.

Sue's a great listener.

I'm just so sick and
tired of my own voice.

I always loved talking to
Holly, but now most of the time,

we just end up
talking about Sue.

Or pooping.

- Is she asleep?
- Barely.

Um, one little fart,
and she'll be up.

And she's definitely gonna fart.

Leave her to me. This
shouldn't take long.

All right. Good.

'Cause Holly's got us on
a pretty tight schedule.

What's the job?

I need you to identify
half a smeared thumbprint.

All right, well, assuming

that the finger mark
is not too degraded,

I probably will be able
to get a few skin cells,

maybe even some sweat, and
then I just extract the DNA.

Easy pease, lemon squeeze.

Man. I miss this.

Don't you just love the
smell of sodium sulfate?

Is that just me?

Maybe it's time for you
to get back out there.

Yeah, I wish.

Wait. Did Holly say something?

I applied to a new crime lab.

No luck. As usual.

What the hell.

Nobody at home yells at me when
I ruin the prosecution's case.

I mean, Sue yells, but
I usually can fix that

with a goofy face.

Well, let's see
what you can find.

Who knows, maybe it'll
be a fresh start.

Yeah, what do you say to
that, Sue? Fresh start?

Ah, she just farted.

Thatagirl.

Hi, there.

Sweet tea. Tea.

And sweet tea with milk.

Oh. Drink up.

CODIS just matched the DNA
we got from Reddington.

Quentin Dodd, a.k.a. the Hook,

a.k.a. the Mechanic,
a.k.a. the Claw, a.k.a...

Okay, so his aliases
are up to date,

but the rest of this stuff...

Last known address,
2011. Last arrest, 2009.

Guess the guy figured out
how not to get caught.

He may have changed
up his methods,

but what about his obsession?

What does that mean?

Look at what the cops found
when they arrested him.

Patek Philippe.
Cartier. Piaget.

Those are five-figure watches.

Even when he was
pulling the bigger jobs,

7 times out of 10,

there was a watch somewhere
on that seizure list.

So the guy's got a weakness.
How does that help us?

It may be a long shot, but
imagine you're "the Claw."

That was some pretty sloppy work

leaving your print on
that agent's radio.

Did you find that
radio in a trash can?

No, 'cause I saw that
radio in a trash can,

and as I was throwing
out my soy latte,

I started to pick it up, but
I didn't want to get involved.

Figured somebody threw it
there, had their reasons.

- Is that right?
- Hm.

You do understand this is
an assassination attempt

on a U.S. Senator
we're talking about?

Did you find my
prints on the gun?

'Cause I bet not.

I mean, you may have
some DNA from the trash,

but come on, FBI, I
follow the old rules...

I never smarten up a sucker,
I never rat to the cops.

My hands are tied here
on both counts, fellas.

What about the count of
grand larceny in the third degree?

Or the second. Those were some
pretty expensive watches you stole.

Ah, but to render that verdict,

the people, that's you,

must prove my intent

to deprive or appropriate as
defined by Penal Law 155.05.

Did you see me depriving
or appropriating?

Point of fact, did you
find anything on me at all?

You were smart enough
to stash the evidence

in case you were searched.

And we did catch you
red-handed going for my watch.

Yeah, which you said
yourself was a fake.

So if it costs
less than 50 bucks,

it's a Class D bumped down
to a Class A misdemeanor.

Hardly a federal offense.

I didn't even cross
any state lines.

So, with my priors,
that's a year in JCI?

And I already graduated from
that venerable institute,

but I'm a big believer
in continuing education.

A pickpocket? Harold, please!

- He's more than a pickpocket.
- Oh, for Pete's sake.

I thought you'd have
something to put me at ease

before my debate.

About that. I don't
think it's a good idea.

In fact, I'd like you
to consider suspending

all public appearances
until we've had...

All appearances?

I am down 5% in the polls.

You trying to help Jerry
Hayes walk off with my seat?

It could be worse.
You could be dead.

I will be dead, politically,
if I lose reelection.

Besides, I have faith
in my team. Tell him, Will.

Director Cooper, I can assure
you that every precaution

has been taken to
secure the venue.

We vetted the staff,
optimized exit routes,

and brought in an extra team.

I'm confident we can
keep the Senator safe.

I appreciate that, but,
Cynthia, if you insist on going,

then I insist on having
one of my team there.

Agent Ressler, I
want you to accompany

the Senator this afternoon.

Of course.

Uh, we got a problem downstairs.

We caught the thief,
just like you told us to,

- but he wouldn't give up the shooter.
- Ah.

Apparently, he knows the
penal code better than most.

We had to release him.

That's a shame.

Keep your chin up, Harold.
There's always a way.

Mr. Dodd.

I understand that you can

see into a man's pockets,

into a man's mind.

Why don't you focus that
superior perception on me,

tell me what you see?

You got me kind of
handicapped here.

But let's see.

Martin Greenfield suit.
Brooklyn clothier. Nice.

Paul Stuart shoes.

You got wealth and taste,

but you don't like
to draw attention.

Although, that Rolex isn't
hiding its light under a bushel.

Even a simple man has
to check the time.

No car keys. You
gotta go anywhere,

someone else does the driving.

Ohh! Metro? You?

No one really looks at
anyone on the subway.

That's a fair point.

No wallet or billfolds. Just
cash in your right front.

Firearm behind. An extra
mag in your right jacket.

A flip phone in your left.

Now, for your mind...

I'll tread softly.

I assume braver men have
plumbed your depths and drowned.

The stuff you carry,

the way your smile never
reaches those eyes...

it's just humor and darkness.

A life lived too long
with little left to lose.

Except the life.

You missed something.

I didn't get a good
look at your socks.

In my back pocket.

You missed all the
people I keep there,

including a certain Senator
you conspired to have killed.

Whoa! I had no idea it was
gonna go down like that.

I don't know why I
just told you that.

Guess I'll have to kill you now.

Please. I won't breathe a word.

Oh, but I'd like a word.

About the shooter who hired you.

I can't talk about that.

What do you think, Red? A
belt to cut off the blood?

Bit rudimentary.

Still,
very effective.

You see, Quentin,

I suspected that you
might prove reticent,

and I thought an
old-fashioned criminal

deserves an
old-fashioned punishment.

You try to take from
me, I take your hand.

My hand? You...

You wouldn't rob me
of my livelihood.

Rob a thief. How ironic.

So, we got
your bone nibblers...

your shaping mallet...

and this.

Ever smell bone dust?

The Gigli saw was
invented 130 years ago,

but I still haven't found a
cleaner way to sever a limb.

Okay. I'll talk. I'll talk.

Tell me about the assassin.

My crew and I were
pulling a job,

when this... security
guard ambushed us.

He had footage of us at work.

He kept going on about,
uh, the sanctity of the law

and how we had to pay
for our transgressions.

He said something strange
about a "higher calling."

He was lording this
evidence over us,

so we had to go along
with his crazy plan.

Now, I've met some weirdos
in my line, but this guy?

He scared me.

Where can I find him?

FBI!

- Clear right.
- He's not here.

What's with the flag?

A military signal for distress.

Is that President Diaz?

Why would an assassin take a
picture with a former President?

A disgraced former President?

Check this out.

Whoever he is, we probably
won't recognize him now.

...pockets.
Any metal...

Yeah. I always
set these darn things off.

I got shrapnel lodged in
my shoulder. Check my ID.

You're gonna have to wand me.

Landlord was a bust.

The office was rented with
a fake ID, paid for in cash.

But... we sent our assassin's
little photo collage

to the FACE Services Unit,

and...

we got a hit.

Lucas Roth. He's
ex-Secret Service?

23-year career.

White House detail
under two presidents.

Oversaw transitions,
inaugurations.

Recipient of the
Award for Valor.

Sounds like a hero.

So, why isn't he with
the Service anymore?

Retired at 49.

A year before he was eligible?

That's strange.

How do you know what the Secret
Service retirement age is?

It's the
same as the FBI's.

- You're not thinking of...
- I'm already older than that,

but then again, I run a task
force that doesn't exist.

Could this guy's retirement have
something to do with Panabaker?

Maybe they crossed paths while
she was still White House Counsel.

I'll reach out to Roth's
former supervisor.

And I'll keep digging into
his wormy little brain.

Just take a look at
this handwriting.

Serial-killer vibes.

I'm so glad we could parlay
our complicated first meeting

into a lucrative opportunity.

Are you saying I had a choice?

And how about the
rest of your crew?

Us old-timers
have a motto...

In with the gravy,
in with the grief.

You want your share
of the spoils,

you take your share

of the trouble that
comes along with it.

Though I hope there's gravy

at the end of this.

With success, you'll have
enough to fill a bathtub.

Eh, shouldn't
be a problem.

We just need a few days
to plan, maybe a week.

You have three hours.

Ugh...

I can't... I can't breathe!

While working families struggle

to put food on the table.

The Senator doesn't get it.
She wants to go after...

I'm backstage. Sorry. It's
hard to hear. What've you got?

The assassin's
name is Lucas Roth.

He's former Secret Service. I
just texted you some photos.

We need you to show them to
Panabaker, see if she recognizes him.

I can ask the other agents, but
Panabaker's gonna have to wait.

She's already on stage.

I consider it an honor
having served as Senator

from the state of Virginia,
but when he looks at this seat,

he sees dollar signs...

...another
opportunity to funnel contracts

to his buddies at Hutton-Crane.

Contracts mean jobs,

good jobs for people
in this state.

But if that's your concern,

before I even
announced my candidacy,

I resigned from Hutton's board
and divested all of my...

Divested?

Come on, Jerry. They're
your biggest contributors!

That's like a man telling
his wife he stopped cheating

when he's still going to
the clubs every night.

Your friends in the
FBI investigated

these allegations at
the highest level.

They found nothing.

Talk about a waste
of taxpayer dollars.

Now...

Stay calm...

Wait! Senator! Where
are you taking her?

Code Gray. We're
initiating lockdown.

- No, I need to stay with the Senator.
- Not possible.

She's being taken to a
designated extraction point.

We're almost there, Senator.

You need to get here.
Roth might be on site.

They've evacuated everyone
to a holding area.

- They're locking down the theater.
- Wait a minute.

If they're locking
everything down...

Probably just
following protocol.

But our assassin's
ex-Secret Service,

so he knows the protocol.

This could be a setup.

Wait. Hey. Where's Panabaker?

Don't make a sound.

Turn around. Slowly.

Senator. It's an honor.

What do we know?

Panabaker's driver said she
never made it to the car.

We've been monitoring the exits,

and she's not in
the holding area.

So they can still be inside.

Sir, I have the
floor plans you asked for.

This is an old theater. A lot
of the rooms aren't marked.

Then we'll have to split up.

Search systematically,
room by room.

Lock the door, Will.

- How do you know my name?
- Move.

We're in the basement.
There's no sign of Panabaker.

Here's the weird thing... I'm not
seeing her in these notebooks, either.

I've skimmed through like 20.
Her name hasn't appeared once.

You'd think for someone
obsessed with killing her...

Right, but I have found other
names, like Will Strickland.

Wait. As in Special
Agent Strickland?

Roth doesn't
like him one bit.

Lucas. Holy...

I'd say nice to see you, but we
both know that would be a lie.

Oh, my God.
You shot Ives.

A necessary sacrifice.

Necessary sacrifice?
You're insane!

I have never been more lucid.

Malik's saying that Roth worked
with both Strickland and Ives.

So we've got an
ex-Secret Service agent,

hates one co-worker,
takes a shot at another.

But how does Panabaker fit in?

Put the gun down.

Senator. You don't understand.

I understand if you
don't put that gun down,

you're gonna get shot.

I am going to reach
into my pocket.

It is just a phone.

There's something
you need to hear.

We assumed Roth was
gunning for Panabaker.

She's the public figure.
It only makes sense.

But what if she was
never the target?

What if it was the
Secret Service all along?

Jonathan,

what I'm about to say is
not to leave this room.

The FBI's gonna indict
Jerry Hayes for bribery.

They got a warrant to search
his offices tomorrow afternoon.

Oh, my God.

There goes the election
for him right there.

- Congratulations, Senator.
- Don't celebrate yet.

I'm not even supposed to
know. It's highly privileged.

Obviously, this
conversation never happened.

How the hell did you get that?

Ask him. He recorded it.

W-What? Senator, that is a lie!

You have been
betrayed by the man

you trusted to keep you safe.

Senator, he shot an agent!

He is holding you
here at gunpoint!

My apologies if I
made you afraid.

I didn't see any other way.

Put down the gun.

No.

I won't do that.

He must face justice.

Senator!

Stand down, Will.

- Cynthia, did you...
- What?

Did you think I was gonna wait
around for you to rescue me?

I'm not exactly a
shrinking violet.

Donald, I hope you've got
a second pair of those.

You need to take
Agent Strickland

- into custody, as well.
- Are you kidding me?

You can't believe
this crazy man!

I'll explain it back
at the office, Harold.

I need a drink.

Dr. Miller, dial
2-1-6. Dr. Miller, dial 2-1-6.

Excuse me, miss. How do I
get to the maternity ward?

Can you believe it? I'm
gonna be a grandfather!

73 years old...

and I still remember
when my Jenny was born.

Cute as a button.

May the Lord smile
upon you, my son.

Oh, Jesus.

I... I mean, I'm sorry, Father,

but if you're
here... am I dying?

Nobody told me I was dying.

He who believeth in
me shall never die.

Not today anyway.

Oh...

Hey! Stop right there!

Watch it!

I said stop!

Where the hell did they go?

Wh... A hearse?

I don't think I like
the implication.

Just get in already.

Okay.

Robert!

Oh, no.

No, no, no. No, no way.
I'm not getting in.

Come on, Robert.

You poisoned me with a book!

All part of the plan,
Robert. All part of the plan.

- Get in the car.
- I almost died!

Okay, so maybe there was
a 15% chance, 20% at most.

Maybe 25%. But here you are!

So, get in, sit back, and
relax. You're a free man!

- Robert.
- All right.

When JFK was in Dallas,
he didn't want motorcycles

flanking his limo or agents
on the running boards.

It wouldn't have
mattered in the end,

but the men on his detail still
regretted giving in to him.

So why did they do it?

They liked him too much.

That's why we can't get close
to the people that we protect.

If it's dangerous
to like someone,

what happens when you don't?

The man that I was assigned
to, I truly loathed,

politically and personally,

but when I saw a gun pointed
at him, I didn't hesitate.

I still got the bullet
lodged right there.

You're an agent,
too, so you know.

The job doesn't
care how you feel,

if your wife left you,
if your child is sick.

You took a sacred oath
to protect democracy,

at all costs.

But Agent Strickland?

He tarnished the star.

You have no right
to hold me here.

You recorded a Senator's
private conversations.

I'd say I do.

Yeah, maybe I bumped my
phone while she was talking.

Come on, Agent Strickland.

You shared those recordings
with her opponent.

You were trying to swing
the vote against her.

Well, if you know everything...

I don't know why. Why her?

Cynthia Panabaker is
unfit to hold office.

According to who?

The voters in
Virginia or just you?

He was assigned
to protect her,

but he violated
that sacred trust.

What about Agent Ives? The
one you shot? Was he involved?

No.

I'm a trained marksman.

I knew exactly where to aim

to get Ives benched,
but not seriously hurt.

I needed to be sure that
Strickland was running point today.

Why the elaborate plot?
Why not just report...

Report him to his superiors?

You think I didn't try?

The Agency is supposed
to be above politics,

but in reality...

They call it "being made" when
you get your first promotion.

It's just like the
Mafia. Loyalty is king.

If someone on your
team screws up...

you're expected to
look the other way.

- So they buried it?
- And they buried me.

But here's what you
need to understand...

scandal means something
different to us.

Appearing compromised

can endanger the country,
the Presidency itself.

I knew they'd never risk it!

So that's why you made the attack
so public, so they couldn't hide...

It all has to come out!

It's the only way to restore
faith in the Service.

It may cost me my life...

but I took that oath
a long time ago.

You caught me.

How embarrassing.

You've
been through a lot.

I couldn't let
fear slow me down.

Nobody'll vote for a candidate
who's scared of her own shadow.

But I guess it got
the best of me.

So, what happened?

You were recorded talking
about your opponent?

Jerry kept getting
these no-bid contracts.

They suspected he was
bribing DoD officials,

but before they could
execute the search warrant...

Your Secret Service detail
leaked your conversation,

giving him time to
cover his tracks.

And then he flipped
the narrative,

making it look like I was
behind some kind of witch hunt.

But the tables
are turning again.

A traitor in the Service.

This'll be a massive
investigation.

Everyone involved
will be exposed.

Ah. Yeah. Poor Jerry.

Having your name linked
with an attempted assassin

like that is never a good look.

Have you seen tonight's news?

They're already calling
you "Cynthia Six Shooter."

Well, that's enough to win
me reelection right there.

I'll drink to that.

- No, no. You first.
- You don't trust me?

You left me to
rot in cinderblock hell!

You almost killed me!

- Mm.
- And now what?

Am I your guest or
am I your prisoner?

My guest, obviously.

The caviar I serve my
prisoners is just fish eggs.

Oh, come on,
Raymond. I know you.

You... You've got
something up your sleeve.

- Nothing. Not even a watch.
- Hm.

I knew he wouldn't be able
to resist the temptation,

so I installed a
tracking device.

Again with the watch?

You need to seek
professional help.

What if he
sells your Rolex?

Doesn't matter now.

I'm about to learn the
location of his hideout,

should I require his
services in the future.

You see? You always
have an angle.

And I'm the one who
taught you that.

Okay, okay, fine.

So you do have a plan.

There. Surprise ruined.

- Happy now?
- Yeah.

Oh, no. I'm not touching that.

Wait.

Is that Treasure Island?

Okay.

So that's why you busted me out.

There's no hidden
message, Robert.

This is just a simple gift.

No, no, no. You
gave me Oliver Twist

because it's about an old
man teaching a young kid

how to be a criminal.

Plus, they're
pickpockets. Now, this...

Are we sure the arsenic
didn't damage your brain?

It says "Treasure" right
here in the title, Raymond!

Just a little? We should
really get your head examined.

You are not coming near my head.

Oh, no.