All language subtitles for The.Blacklist.S05E15.HDTV.x264-SVA

Need a warm up, hon?

No. Thanks. Just the check.

Be right...

Right back.

Hey, are you okay?

Hey, Phoebe, what's the matter?

I don't know what's wrong.

I...

I feel dizzy, like... I can't...

- Hey. Hey.
- Honey, you're burning up.

- Oh, Phoebe!
- Is there a doctor here?!

- Somebody call an ambulance!
- Phoebe?

...My head, that ringing...

Please, I can't... something's wrong.

She seems to be having
some kind of viral reaction.

Ambulance is on its way.

We have to call the CDC right now.

You can't keep me here.

Yeah, we both feel fine.

I got another.

Can somebody explain what's going on?

Ladies and gentlemen,
my name is Dr. Marcus Joffey.

I'm a CDC investigator.

This facility is being
placed under quarantine.

We need to identify
who needs immediate care.

Synced & corrected by -robtor-
www.addic7ed.com

I took the liberty.

Is this latex or memory foam.

He broke into my house.

I wake up in the middle of the night,

the man's sitting on the edge of my bed.

Reddington has a flair for the dramatic.

He threatened to kill me.

If you divulge his relationship
with the FBI.

So don't.

We told you about this
to gain your trust.

Reddington just wants you to help
me find my husband's killer.

That's what he said.

Although he seemed more interested

in where I bought my mattress.

You said you had a way
to draw out the killer,

what do you call him... Damascus.

We don't know his real name,

just that he's a cop
who's protecting drug dealers

with the Nash syndicate.

I'm part of an inter-agency task force

trying to bring them down.

Every time we get a lead,

Damascus tips them off,
and we get nothing.

Which means whoever killed Tom

has a line in on his task force.

So at my next meeting,

I'm gonna let it be known

that we have a snitch of our own.

Someone inside the syndicate
who can ID Damascus.

Bobby Navarro,

former dealer from the syndicate
who's gone missing.

We'll tell them where and when
I'll meet Navarro

and that he's gonna ID Damascus.

And whoever shows up
to stop that from happening

will either be Damascus

or someone that can lead us to him.

Detective Singleton,
as I'm sure you'll agree,

a dirty cop is a good cop's worst enemy.

Still, it's hard to go after
one of our own.

And dangerous.

I appreciate your determination.

Agent Keen, reach out to Reddington.

Please implore him that, moving forward,

he should stay off
the detective's mattress.

I'm sorry, I'm out.

Yes. Of jail. Because of me.

And in exchange for said freedom,

you owe me one genuine,
bona fide, Earl Fagen,

electrical-wires-somehow-
got-crossed inferno.

Then you're out.

No. Then I'm in.

I mean, then I'm back in.

You're waving coke in front of an addict.

Then take a snort.

This isn't a negotiation.

It's an assignment.

I have a business
that's become a liability.

I need you to burn it down.

Critter Cabin. We're in the book.

There you are. I have a case.

And I have a request...
Take it easy on Singleton.

He's on our side. For now.

Because he's afraid not to be.

I find a good bedside chat

to be effective and exhilarating.

He and I have a plan.

And if works out, it'll ID Tom's killer.

And then what?

If it turns out to be a cop,

what are you gonna do then?

Let the system close ranks
around one of its own?

Let him lawyer up? Stand trial?

Juries acquit cops
even when they have video

showing those cops
shooting innocent victims.

You think a jury will take
your word over his,

your memory?

The memory of someone

who suffered
such significant brain trauma

she was in a coma for 10 months.

Why are you telling me this?

Because you and I both know

this doesn't end in a courtroom.

It ends on the street.

I want you to be prepared for that.

About this case...

The only case
I'm interested in working on

is Tom's murder.

Well, unfortunately
this is an urgent one.

There's been
a rather acute viral outbreak

in New York City,

and I'm afraid it was not
a natural occurrence.

Nine months ago,
Reddington was approached

by Jumbal Mazi Okoro,

a South African black-market trader

who was looking to secure
a rare viral agent

for his client.

Okoro was requesting a pathogen

with "maximum contagion capabilities."

Reddington never facilitated the trade

citing ethical issues.

Go figure.

But based on this morning's incident,

Reddington believes
this client may be responsible

for the attacks in New York.

Agent Mojtabai.

Something funny?

What? Oh.

Uh, no.

Uh, sorry, I was just...
watching Agent Keen.

It's, uh... it's good to have you back.

- Even if it's on restricted duty.
- Thanks, Aram.

What makes Reddington
think there's a connection?

Okoro was looking to obtain
the same kind of pathogen...

a highly concentrated,

purified form of organic chemicals.

- Now, can Reddington ID the client?
- No.

And neither can Okoro,
who was killed in November.

But based on this morning's incident,

Reddington believes his would-be client

may be active on U.S. soil.

I'll notify HHS and Homeland.

Ressler, Navabi, coordinate
with the boots on the ground

and see if the CDC

has uncovered anything
that supports this.

Lab confirmed it's a viral pathogen...

likely airborne and replicating quickly.

When we arrived,
we had 26 confirmed cases...

customers, first responders.

In the last six hours,
that number's tripled.

- What about your quarantine?
- Three square blocks.

NYPD has another 12 in lockdown.

How do you know it's a targeted attack?

Intel from a confidential source.

Uh, Do you think this may be
a designer virus?

All I is what my people
told you on the phone.

About the woman.

Here. With the notebook.

She somehow managed to slip out

before we could ID the infected...

could be a mistake,

but wherever she is, she's not here now.

Can you roll that back?

It's an inhaler.

We suspect it may contain

some kind of anti-viral agent.

Looks like we have a suspect.

Aram, I'm gonna send you
some CCTV images.

We're gonna need an ID right away.

Tell your confidential source

if he knows anything else,

he's going to need to tell us,

because we're going to have
fatalities on our hands

within the hour.

We just got word of NYPD

responding to a call at New York General.

Is that where they're
treating the infected?

Yes, but there may be more...

Another... another outbreak.

They found some kind of
biological device.

It doesn't make any sense.

Why would she try to infect them
a second time?

They're already sick.

Uh, you're not gonna believe this,

but I don't think we're looking
at another virus here.

Why, what is it?

It's the cure.

16 people are in serious condition.

- Seven are critical.
- Tell me again...

why aren't they being given the antidote?

The CDC wants to test it first.

How about on the victims?

What's the worst that can happen?

- They're dying anyway.
- We've confirmed it's her.

It's the same woman
who caused the infection.

Why would she infect people

only to provide them with the cure?

Okay, hang on. I got an ID.

Here we go.

Captain Patricia Sue Edwards.

Uh, she's a biochemist.

Formerly with the United States Army

Medical Research Institute
of Infectious Disease.

USAMRIID. The germ-warfare guys.

Married to Lieutenant Commander
Dennis Edwards.

NAVY Seal.

"All in, all the time."
The best of the best.

Yeah, well, put a pin in that.

'Cause in March 2017,

Lieutenant Commander Edwards

was stationed in Manbij, Syria,

tasked with securing the area

to facilitate the liberation of Raqqa.

His record had always been exemplary,

up until another SEAL caught him

stealing a truck
full of confiscated opium.

- Was he court-martialed?
- Killed.

By the same SEAL who caught him.

And Judge Advocate ruled

that that SEAL was acting
in self-defense.

Did they investigate the wife?

Uh, yeah, but nothing conclusive...

but she was stripped

of her security clearance at USAMRIID

before resigning her commission.

Which means she lost access

to the chemical and biological weapons.

Apparently she's gotten over that hurdle.

There was a story in the news today.

About an outbreak.

I think you'll like it.

Red, I told you from day one,
Heddie's no good.

She knows how to cook the books,

but she's a little n-n-n-nutty,
excitable.

And now she's taken a powder,

we're about to be audited, and so what...

now you got this f...
this... this... this guy?

To what? To light a match and.

Boom. There goes this... this
sweet little deal we got going?

Smokey, as you well know,
Heddie did not take a powder.

She's lying in her bed right now,

sneezing and wheezing,

swollen up like a puffer fish.

I'm afraid all the dogs and cats

finally got the best of her.

Be that as it may, mistakes are mistakes,

and I'm telling you
she's out of her depth.

And now, with the new tax law,

forget about it!

It is "eaz-in-c-eaz-om-pre-eaz-

e-h-eaz-en-s-eaz-i- b-eazle."

All I can tell you for sure is

little guys and nonprofits are screwed.

I want you to go to our vet

and find out how he disposes

of the animals he puts down.

We're gonna need about half a dozen.

Half a dozen what?

Skeletons.

To make it look authentic.

Couple of dogs. Cats.

I think we shampoo the occasional marmot.

In order to melt structural components,

we need a High Temperature
Accelerant fire.

Your typical fire generates
about 2,000 degrees.

We add a little thermite,

we could boost that up to 4,500 degrees.

Even if the fire department
shows up early

and starts spraying water,

they'll just aggravate the flames.

Leave you nothing but memories.

Look, I never said I didn't love it.

I just said I shouldn't do it.

Earl, you have a gift.

Others create, you destroy.

Mr. Hepworth.

Thomas Dekker.

Mr. Dekker.

As you know, the IRS is conducting

- an audit of Critter Cabin LLC...
- Let me ask you...

How come you get to audit me

and I don't get to audit you?

About the audit...

Granted, you use my money
for some worthy causes...

roads, schools...

but building a border wall,

prosecuting people for smoking pot,

building even more prisons

to hold even more young men of color?

Why should my money finance that?

There seem to be some discrepancies

in your unrelated business income.

Hershey. Hershey. Hershey.

You're missing the point.

If I could direct your attention

to Form 990-T, Part 1, 4a...

The point, the essential point,

is this...

we're all sinners.

Oh. Sinning. That's the point.

Lust. Gluttony. Sloth.

Three of my favorites.

But you're here because of my greed.

Tell me, what's your sin, Mr. Hepworth?

I don't...

Of course you do.

"For all have sinned

and fall short of the Glory of God."

Testify, Brother Hershey.

Okay, I don't think that...

Don't think. Flow.

I, uh...

That's it. Let it out.

Let it out.

I hate this job.

Amen, to that.

My kid...

he's incredible.

And he's desperate to go to high
school at Davenport Academy.

But the headmaster won't let him in

because of what I do, what I did.

I audited his sister.

Don't despair, Brother Hershey.

Your job is what kept your son out,

and now it will be what gets him in.

How's it gonna do that?

I'm going to do that.

In exchange for services rendered by you.

Or, to be more precise...
not rendered by you.

Rumor is you got a bomb
to drop on the task force.

- That a fact?
- Tactical friggin' nuke.

I'm all a-tingle.

I tailed Keen.

She didn't lead me to Reddington,

- but she did lead me to someone else.
- Who?

Robert Navarro.

Navarro?

I figured he got himself whacked.

What he got himself
was a deal with the Feds.

Snitch?

Cut a deal.

Immunity in exchange

for everything he knows
about Nash syndicate.

Names. Suppliers. Amounts.

He's gonna tell all that to the Feds?

Everything we've been trying
to find out for a year.

Talk about getting caught
with your hands in your pants.

Navarro's gonna meet his contact
this afternoon...

at a Fed safe house on Water Street.

The Bureau is promising transcripts.

That's no tactical nuke, my friend.

That's thermo-friggin'-nuclear.

So we'll drop it on the boys.

You go ahead. I'll be right there.

We ran a sample of Edwards' virus

which we're uploading to Atlanta now.

Naturally-occurring Nipah
has one strand of RNA.

Hers has two.

That sounds bad.

She genetically spliced
a secondary strand

onto the virus.

No idea why.

We'll know more when
we hear back from Atlanta.

Network alert.

Network alert.

Access denied.

Access denied.

- What's going on?
- I don't know.

- I'm locked out.
- Atlanta's down.

- Everyone's down.
- Well, how's that even possible?

I have no idea.

But it seems like the biological virus

is now infecting our entire network.

You're telling me a human virus
infected a computer network.

How is that possible?

All right, code is code...
ones and zeroes.

What's changed is

that we can now manipulate
the human genome

to implant malicious code into it.

When the infected DNA from the victims

was analyzed and uploaded
to the CDC's network,

the computer virus was uploaded with it.

So the purpose of the outbreak

was to hijack the CDC's server.

And lock us out. But why?

The CDC server could give her

the locations and access codes

to thousands of deadly viruses.

The only way I can see for sure

what she's doing inside the system

is to physically access the server farm.

Then that's what you're going to do.

Sir, uh, that's what I would like to do.

There's just one small problem...

This is the quarantine zone,

and this... this is the server farm

that supplies the CDC's computer system.

That's a very strange coincidence.

Or Edwards chose her target

with exactly that in mind.

Thank you so much, Miss Timmons.

The board couldn't be happier.

Now, don't forget your jersey.

Ooh.

Isn't it marvelous?

Very sporting.

And, please.

Thank you.

Mr. Dekker, is it?

Yes.

Very impressive.

What a gymnasium...

a real shrine to athleticism.

I can just feel the testosterone.

We've wanted to build it for years.

But one neighbor refused to sell
an adjoining plot...

until about five minutes ago.

The charming lady who just left?

It's been a very good day.

Well, then allow me

to make it an even better one.

Every great athletic facility

requires spectacular locker rooms

for all those inspirational
pre-game sermons,

the half time pep talks,

all that post-game towel snapping

and rump slapping.

Let me be forthright.

If you're willing to offer
enrollment at the academy

to a very, very promising
young man that I know,

then I'd be willing to pay
for those locker rooms.

That is very generous.

His name is Charlie Hepworth.

Now, I know there's been
some bad blood between you...

I'm afraid that's rather
an understatement.

His father's audit cost
my sister her company.

Yes, but to be fair,

should poor Charlie really have to suffer

the consequences
of his father's doggedness

and your sister's indiscretions?

Thank you, Mr. Dekker,

but I'm going to have to turn down

- your generous offer.
- Mm.

There must be something I can do
to change your mind.

I can't think of a thing.

Well, let's see if I can.

Can you really intercept
cell phones with that thing?

Anyone in range makes a call,

this picks up the device ID number.

That way we get whoever shows up

and anyone they reach out to for help.

If I haven't said it...
thank you for this.

Coffee?

Yeah.

My girls call this "Daddy mud."

How old are they?

13 and 10.

My wife took them last year.

Found herself another guy.

I have a daughter too.

She's not with me right now either.

She's with her grandmother.

I have to get through this first.

My ex's guy lives in Orlando.

Except for vacations, my kids do too.

Life's something, isn't it?

Unsolicited advice...

you need a better lawyer.

Make a deal...

we catch Damascus,
you go see your daughter,

I get myself a new lawyer.

Deal.

There's a barcode in his window.

It's a rental.

You recognize him?

No.

Maybe hired muscle.

Hey. It's me.

Yeah.

I don't know, but there's
no sign of Navarro.

Right.

I'll go in for a closer look.

Once you enter the hot zone,

your rebreather will have
20 minutes of air.

Beyond that, oxygen levels fall

and the environment inside your suit

will change dramatically.

Carbon-monoxide levels spike,

causing nausea, dizziness...

Got it. So, uh, what you're saying is...

if the virus doesn't kill me,
the suit will.

Nothing is going to kill you.

Look, we got you on comm

so we can physically guide you
to the servers.

Once you get there, tap the terminal.

Figure out what Edwards is doing in there

and get out.

Okay, listen.

You can do this.

You're going to be great.

Okay?

What?

I have to pee.

Kidding.

I'm totally kidding.

Just... come on, I'm trying
to lighten the mood here.

It's... Oh. Okay.

You getting this?

Not yet.

He's leaving.

Yeah.

Nobody.

The place is empty.

I don't know, maybe you got bad intel,

but there's nobody here.

We're not gonna get another shot at this.

We won't need one.

Aram, when you exit the elevator,

there's gonna be a door
to your immediate right.

That's the door to the server room.

I see it.

How am I doing on oxygen?

Nine minutes.

Nine minutes, huh?

Actually, eight.

All right. Aram, you got to listen to me.

You're looking for the server row D-52.

That's gonna be the fourth row
from the east wall.

Dr. Moshay, this is probably

as good a time as any to tell you

I admire the CDC and the work you do.

But perhaps one of
your scientists could...

you know, could find a way
to equip these hazmats

with a... you know, a simple,
uh, inline recirculating fan

to cool them off a bit.

Oh! Okay, I found it.

I found it. D-52. We're here.

Okay. Okay.

- Seven minutes.
- He'll make it.

All right, I need the root password.

It's 12-Net-4-Hotel-Bravo.

Let me see...

I can't really see through this mask.

Okay, I'm in. I'm in.

All right, now I'm, uh......

scanning for unknown processes.

He's running through his air
faster than he should be.

We need to pull him out.

Aram, you need to focus.

I am. I just...

I can't see here. So...

- You're gonna have to.
- Aram, listen to me.

Do you remember Thanksgiving?

Do you remember that diatribe

your brother-in-law went on
about immigration?

Do you remember how you coped?

I gorged on apple cobbler.

You told me you breathed...

- I breathed.
- You tried to breathe.

And remember what happened

- when you focused on your breathing?
- We need to call it.

You said you found a sense of calm.

You were able to separate
yourself from anxiety

- and just be.
- Uh, Samar, this is, um...

this is, like, super cool of you...

I know you're helping,
but I figured it out.

She's jumped the system.

What does that mean?

Okay, government computer
systems are networked,

and if what I'm seeing here is right,

then Edwards is using the CDC portal

to launch a search
in SIPRNet and the DoD.

Those are the most classified
networks in the country.

She's trolling their databases.

- Looking for what?
- That's just it.

She's using some kind of
DNA sample in her search.

It's not a "what."

It's "who."

I think she's looking for somebody.

So the virus outbreak was
all just a way to ID someone.

Yeah, she has some DNA and she's
looking to put a name to it.

- Who? Family member? Loved one?
- Enemy.

I want to know the second you find out.

Whoever it is may need our protection.

Agent Keen.

Bad time?

Not at all. Come in.

Did anyone take the bait?

Yes. A merc, some muscle.

But he was reporting to whoever sent him,

and that's probably the person
I'm looking for,

which is why I need your help.

Tell me. What can I do?

The guy who showed up...

Singleton intercepted his phone.

- A burner.
- If you intercepted him,

you must know who he called.

I do. One number.

- Also a burner.
- I'll geolocate him.

I know you're in the
middle of a big case...

- Do it.
- The CDC's confirming the antidote.

We'll track the DNA.

- Are you sure?
- Of course.

It's imperative we find Tom's killer.

How... A quit claim?

But we were in contract.

As Old Man Quimby,

my fencing instructor used to say...

"If ifs and buts were candy and nuts,

oh, what a Christmas we'd have."

My God I loved the foil.

That woman agreed to sell to us.

Well, as it turns out

you weren't offering quite enough.

She accepted my proposal

over the most delicious buckwheat blini

and a tour of her surprisingly
vast collection

of ceramic salt-and-pepper shakers.

But the funny thing is,

I have absolutely no use for the place.

If only there were something you could do

to help me think of a constructive way

to develop the property.

- Any good ideas?
- No.

- Really?
- Absolutely not.

Maybe a massage parlor.

The athletes would love it!

Oh, my God.

Fine. I'll admit him.

The Hepworth kid.

If you throw in the locker room.

"If wishes were horses,
beggars would ride."

Ah, Quimby.

The man was a walking aphorism.

We found out who Edwards
was looking for...

Caleb James Cronin, retired Navy SEAL.

She was looking up his DNA.

That explains the extraordinary
steps she's taken.

The ID of anyone in Special Ops
is highly classified.

What it doesn't explain is why she cares.

Because Cronin killed her husband.

The opium.

He's the one who caught Edwards
stealing it.

JAG ruled it was self-defense.

Apparently she'd like
to render her own verdict.

If she knows who he is,

it won't take her long
to find out where he is.

We need to find him first.

Lieutenant Caleb Cronin?

Agh. What the hell was that?

Invite me inside and I'll explain.

Red, I've been thinking
about this all wrong.

You are the fancy fugitive
the IRS can't touch.

But Heddie and I? Our names
are all over the place.

This audit is gonna land us in jail,

where she definitely belongs.

But me, I need to feel the sun on my face

and the breeze on my neck,
so here you go.

A dachshund, Husky, Chow,

Pug, beagle, two Siamese, a chinchilla,

and my appreciation
for torching the place.

Smokey, as it turns out,
that won't be necessary.

You promised me a
sure thing, gives me Viagra,

and all I have to show for it
is a four-hour erection.

Who knew an IRS agent
would be so amenable?

Wait. You're... you're...

you're not burning down the place?

Did you hear what I said.
we'll go to jail for this.

Brother Hershey, behold a miracle.

You got Charlie into Davenport.

I just... I can't thank you enough.

Of course you can. That's why I did it.

You know, there's nothing
I've wanted more

than for my son to go to Davenport...

and, um...

if it were in my power
to bury this audit,

I would.

But it is in your power.

You're the auditor.

Yes. I was when we came
to our understanding,

but there's been a change.

I'm out, and, um, Larry Hotchkiss is in.

He'll be here tomorrow at 9:00

to examine your books.

I am so sorry.

So am I, Brother Hershey.

So am I.

It appears we're going to
need that chinchilla after all.

Okay... come on...

All right, I'm geolocating now.

Singleton, can you talk?

You got a location?

Almost.

Okay, okay, okay...

All right, it looks like... there.

There. 447 Skidmore.

- Did you get that? 447...
- Call the burner.

What? Why?

What good's that gonna do?

It'll tell me what member
of the task force

killed your husband.

That address... 447 Skidmore.

That's your office.

Call the number.

Not until we get units there.

You need back...

Singleton?

Is there a problem?

I hope not.

Your girls are in Orlando, right?

You can open your mouth,
but the thing is,

whatever happens to me,

I've got people, Norm.

A lot of people.

You do anything stupid,

and those girls of yours are gonna pay.

Let's go for a ride.

That cough is your body

trying to fight the genetic material

I've introduced into your bloodstream.

It'll be followed by a migraine,
double vision.

Your brain is swelling, Lieutenant.

And it will continue to swell

until your skull
can't accommodate its size.

Look, whatever this is...

There is a cure, however,

and I have it.

But for that, I'm gonna
need something in return.

Who are you?

Dennis Edwards, Navy SEAL.

Manbij, Syria.

You remember him?

He was my husband.

It wasn't my fault, what happened.

Your husband's death, it wa...

It was an accident.

You convinced JAG

that he stole a truckload of opium.

But I know differently.

I know, because he delayed shipping out

to find out who'd done it.

No. That's...

That is not right.
Whatever he told you...

When my husband's effects were returned,

there was blood on his uniform.

I tested it.

I found two sets of DNA.

His and the Navy SEAL who killed him.

You.

I know you stole the opium.

I know you blamed it on my husband,

then murdered him to cover your tracks.

What I don't know
is who else was involved.

You've heard about the outbreak.

That was me.

I've infected you
with an accelerated variant.

You'll be dead in three hours
unless you get the antidote.

So, Lieutenant...

who helped you kill my husband?

Oh, God.

Earl, I've been thinking,

who am I to stand between
you and your calling?

You can make disappear in one hour

what it took 100 men a year to create.

I take it the IRS
wasn't so amenable after all.

There may have been a slight... hiccup.

Men plan. God laughs.

The audit begins tomorrow, 9:00 a.m.

Only there is no God.

It's just all a big chemical reaction.

Can you do it by then?

I need someone
who sees the fire in my eyes

and wants to play with it.

Is that a yes or a no?

Or is a haiku sometimes just a haiku?

I have five smoke detectors,
16 sprinkler heads,

and a backflow preventer to install.

Well, then...

The plan's in my head.

The supplies are in the van.

Every shred of evidence

will be reduced to ashes by dawn.

I do see the fire in your eyes.

And it's terrifying.

FBI!

FBI! Down! Move!

FBI!

Ressler.

You think she infected him?

Or tried.

Obviously there was
some kind of struggle.

Well, he gets the upper hand.

He's bigger, a trained SEAL.

And take her where? She came here
to kill him to get her revenge.

Agents.

This is Jill Conway.

Neighbor from across the street.

I saw them. He had a gun.

All right, get her full statement.

Thank you.

Aram, we may have a hostage situation.

I need you to run
a full profile on Cronin...

credit cards, vehicle
registration, the works.

Okay. I'm on it.

You need to let me drive.

Please. I can help.

Stop. Just...

How much further?

Left at the light.

Onto Shore Boulevard.

I never wanted to kill you.

I just wanted to clear my husband's name.

Okay, guys, a traffic cam
clocked Cronin's vehicle

three minutes ago,
heading westbound on 495.

I've got an NYPD unit tailing them now.

They're headed towards Astoria.

That's where Edwards lives.
They're headed to her house.

Aram, have NYPD set a perimeter...

have them run him onto a service
road at Hell Gate Bridge.

Call Dr. Moshay at the CDC.

Tell her that we have a likely infection.

We need response units on site.

What do we got?

He's symptomatic, likely infected,

which means she is, too.

I've asked law enforcement
to keep them at bay

until you arrive...

I need you to tell me
it's safe to send my people in

- to treat them.
- So you can treat them?

Yes.

Atlanta cleared the antidote.

And we have doses on site ready to go.

What about him? Is he armed?

We think so.

Then it's not safe to treat them.

Where are you going?

Ressler.

All right, hold on. Not so fast.

I need medicine.

She infected me with some kind of...

some virus.

- Where's the weapon?
- Did you hear me?

This woman... she's the reason...

she's infected half the city!

Look, I asked you a question...

Where's the weapon?

I only wanted to clear my husband's name,

to prove his innocence.

I didn't want anybody to get hurt.

His innocence?

Hey, hold up.

What does she mean, his "innocence"?

Are you insane?

Officers, if this man
takes another step forward

you have permission to shoot.

He doesn't have much time.

How about we make a little trade?

Your life for the truth
about Dennis Edwards.

- I told the truth.
- Look, unless you want

to leave here in a hazmat bag,

you're gonna tell me what really happened

to this woman's husband in Raqqa.

Please... I'm begging you...

He's gonna die.

Yeah, I guess so.

Okay, stop!

Just... stop.

The opium...

We took it.

Edwards figured it out.

He was gonna turn us in.

I want names.

Oz Stone, Frank McGraw.

Who pulled the trigger?

I did, okay?

Are you happy?

I shot him.

Bring 'em in.

When it's safe, arrest 'em both.

Hey. Singleton, it's me again.

Uh, you don't seem to be home,

and you don't answer your calls, so...

I'm getting a little worried.

Call me back when you get this.

Singleton?

He's not at home?

No.

He's not answering his cell either.

That's what I was afraid of.

Why do you say that?

It may be nothing.

I'm gonna give you an address.

- Where the hell you been?
- Hm?

The auditor's in the bathroom
washing up for the kill.

I couldn't bring myself to burn it down.

- I like it here.
- Oh, well, good for you.

Why don't you stay here and pat the pets?

- We'll be in jail with the animals.
- I don't think so.

I... I should've known sooner or later,

you'd throw Heddie and me under the bus.

Smokey, shut your mouth
and look and learn.

Ah, Mr. Dekker, it's your lucky day.

Why is that?

Our field office caught fire last night.

Yeah, a wire shorted in the basement.

It sparked a bag of de-icing chemicals

someone left down there.

We store, uh, the materials
we prepare for audits

in the basement.

As a result,

yours has been indefinitely postponed.

That is a bit of luck.

We'll be in touch.

I assume that you assume

the fire was the work of an arsonist.

We did.

But we found no evidence of it.

All we do know is that the fire started

inside the smoke alarm.

Hah! How ironic.

Atten! Hut!

Ready! Aim! Fire!

Ready! Aim!

Fire!

Mr. Fagen.

I was staring at those trees,

thinking how I wanted to burn them.

I realize that I've stoked
the flame, so to speak,

which is why I brought you this.

"Embrace the Struggle"?

Zig Ziglar at his most persuasive.

Are you familiar with his work?

He's a motivational speaker.

Who motivated me to quit smoking

and shoot from the neck down.

You think he can motivate me
not to burn those trees.

A retainer.

For services not yet rendered.

Read the book,

think positive, control your urges,

and I'll put your gift to good use.

Stabbed multiple times.

Wallet gone.

They're saying it was a robbery.

I want witness statements, CCTV footage,

and a forensic report on my desk
an hour ago.

Nobody sleeps until we find
the son of a bitch who did this.

Elizabeth...

Aah! Aah!

What is it?

That's him.

The bald man... Damascus.

That's the man who killed Tom.