All language subtitles for Person of Interest - 3x06 - Mors Praematura.HDTV.LOL.en

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

Did you miss me?

We're gonna have
so much fun together.

He's digging around,
getting way too close.

Should we silence him?

We can't let him
jeopardize our operation.

Put it to a vote.

_

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.

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.

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.

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?

Contrary to the saying,
his bite is far worse.

Trust me. Bear, quiet.

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.

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.

_
Uh-- wait.

There's a fragment
of stray data.

It's a piece of an email.

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.

_

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.

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.

- You get a good look at her?
- 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.

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

We'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.

Spaghetti and an oxygen tank
make a mean thermal lance.

What am I cutting?

This.

You know the last time
I used a blowtorch

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.

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.

Oh, good.
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.

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

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

Breaking and entering.

Locked door.

Phone.

What's missing?

Behind you.

Highly trained operative
in a bad suit.

This is a CIA pickup site.

- Agent number?
- 947-0038 Alpha.

- Confirmation?
- Diego 241.

Pickup tomorrow, 0800.

Have the package ready.

Okay, so what's the package?

I am.

Here you go.
UV lamp.

Kill the lights.

Oh, my God.

What is this?

A message center

for people
who'd want to communicate

without being overheard.

Question is...

what are they saying?

All right, that's weird.
Look at this sprinkler.

It's-- they're not attached
to the same pipes

that service the other units.

Right there.

Looks like some kind of motor.

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

We're locked in!

It's gasoline!

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

Mr. Reese.

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 email 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.

CIA is here to pick us up.

Any last words?

24381.

Whatever.

Pin?

24381.

Good to meet you,
Agent Dearborn.

She been sanitized?

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.

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.

Oh, 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.

6 feet, kid.

Don't skimp.

_

Cells one through
three secure, sir.

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.

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.

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

Left, right, one, two, three.

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.

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.

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 will--

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?

Let's go.

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?

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
7 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.

Transport's here.

Prepare to move out.

So you never told me
why you're here.

Simple, Jason.

I'm here for you.

I'll be right along.

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

So Sloan's dead brother
is really alive?

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.

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

then we still 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.

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.

We're here.

Things are about to get
a bit hectic.

We'll have to continue
this conversation later.

Until then, Mr. Sloan.

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.

Mr. Reese, what's happening?

Go, go! Move!

I just found Shaw.

Unfortunately, so did Collier.

♪ one, two, three, four, five ♪

♪ break down, baby ♪

♪ listen to this,
just listen to this ♪

♪ just listen to this,
just listen to this ♪

♪ just listen to this,
just listen to this ♪

So good to hear your voice.

♪ Just listen to this,
just listen to this ♪

Time to go, Jason.

♪ The number song,
but before I start ♪

♪ let's have the countdown ♪

Jason?

♪ Just listen to this,
just listen to this ♪

♪ Just listen to this,
just listen to this ♪

- Shaw.
- Reese.

Gotta save somebody.

Know the feeling.

Hey, 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.

♪ One, two, three, four, five ♪

There she is.

I guess a software omniscience

isn't much help
if you're out of bullets.

All right, bitch.
Where's Greenfield?

- Hmm.
- Why are you smiling at us?

I'm not smiling at you.

I knew you'd come back for me.

Mission accomplished?

Absolutely.

Good.

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.

Aah!

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.

You learn your lesson, Laskey?

6 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.

Huh.

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?

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.

Excuse me.

- Hello?
- 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.

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...

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?

Sync and corrections by n17t01
www.addic7ed.com