Previously on "The Blacklist"...
I'm not an errand boy. I won't be ordered about.
We'd like you to make this go away.
We know about Keen. What she's saying.
That you're N-13.
Elizabeth's gone, and she's taken something of mine with her.
I suppose you also think that she's responsible
for The Freelancer's release.
There's always more to the story.
- Where is he? - The work of a man
who disguises his killings
in the headlines of everyday tragedies.
The arrest that you made earlier. Mason Dieterle.
He burned down my friend's restaurant.
I just got off the phone with the AUSA reviewing the case.
He told me that your friend passed away from her injuries.
I'm sorry.
You promised me you wouldn't do anything to Dieterle.
I need to know... Did you break that promise?
No, sir.
We've been formulating
those binary structures you gave us for weeks
and... I think we've done it.
We identified the exact structure of the Novichok agent.
Pig, hog, runt...
sow...
boar.
My brother's mantra.
When he was a boy, he collected glass pigs.
He knew everything there was to know about them.
Which side-group is this?
Ethoxy. It's more stable.
Easier to spread. Harder to detect.
And lethal when it contacts the skin.
This compound is 10 times more potent than VX.
If there's a deadlier nerve agent on Earth,
I'm not aware of it.
Call our buyer in Durres.
Tell him the order's ready
and to expect delivery in 48 hours.
Pig, hog, runt...
sow...
boar.
Synced & corrected by -robtor- www.addic7ed.com
_
The road not taken.
- Beauty school? - Yes.
That young woman's great passion
that her single father just can't understand.
It pushes them apart.
But instead of insisting that she understand him,
he enrolls in beauty school as well
and learns to better understand her.
I think you understand Elizabeth.
Probably more than you want to.
Well, I'm not her father.
Maybe if I were, I'd want to understand her even better.
Perhaps she wouldn't be so determined to kill me.
- Morning, Dembe. - Good morning.
- Coffee? - Please.
Something smells delicious.
Mmm. Meat and potato pie.
Dembe brought it back from Sarajevo.
You should try a slice.
Like all good things, it's sinfully bad for you.
You said you had a case?
Yes. Thanks to Dembe.
He brought home more than Bosnian burek.
You know that Elizabeth used an interpreter
to contract a bounty hunter.
I found him in Sarajevo.
An effective chap of ill repute.
Naturally, I assumed the hunter's bounty was me.
Unfortunately, I was mistaken.
How is not being a target unfortunate?
It's unfortunate because each time I think
Elizabeth won't go to a darker place, she does.
Elizabeth wanted the bounty hunter to kill someone else?
Not kill. Find.
Someone she wanted to work with.
And why is that so dark?
Because the person she's working with brokers chemical weapons.
- I don't believe that. - Her name is Mary Bremmer.
I'm not familiar with that name.
Neither was I.
The bounty hunter was unable to locate her,
but he put together a dossier for Elizabeth.
- Dembe got a copy of it. - Why would she do this?
The same reason she worked to get
The Freelancer released from prison.
- You don't know that she did that. - No.
But I know her endgame... To break me and then kill me.
I think it's safe to assume that she's using
The Freelancer and Chemical Mary to accomplish that.
You think she's in business
with a mass murderer and a war criminal?
As I said, it's all... quite unfortunate.
On the bright side, I'm going to have a meeting
with The Freelancer's expensive new attorney.
Word on the street is that his client's
acquired identity papers, passports,
and that he's back to work.
_
I want to know what he's doing.
So we'll see what his attorney has to say.
The dossier on Bremmer.
It's incomplete, but it should give you a head start.
Not a good time.
I'm doing it now.
But this is it, Agent Keen.
Once your target is eliminated, you and I are even.
_
I think what you're doing is wrong.
You're only making things worse for Keen by pursuing her.
Agent Park, you can rest assured...
I've heard it all before.
It's a luxury to stand on the moral high ground
and critique those of us on the low ground.
A lot of people do exactly that.
Until they need my help.
I'll never ask for your help.
Mr. Cooper called with a heads-up. We have got a case.
Okay.
Oh. Uh...
is that about your friend?
I'm so sorry.
Me too.
It, uh... It sounded like it might have been arson.
Not "might." It was.
Are there suspects?
There was, but he disappeared.
Have you talked to Mr. Reddington?
I mean, he can find anyone,
which, in this case, it might help, right?
I mean, if he found the arsonist, you know,
justice, scales, balancing, that kind of thing.
But then on the downside, you'd be in his debt,
and, ohh,
that is a record scratch through your favorite song.
I mean, can you even imagine?
What was it you said earlier?
That I'd never ask for your help.
No, that couldn't be it.
I mean, the irony... It's crushing.
No. I can't imagine.
Of course you can't because this is, like, horrendous advice,
which you are clearly way too smart to take.
Anyway...
I'm really sorry about your friend.
Will you help?
You're asking me to make it all go away.
Say it.
Make it go away.
And if I do this, you're aware
I may someday ask for a favor in return?
You may come to wish you'd accepted the consequences
of your actions here instead.
Are we good?
He has a video of me on his phone.
Ah, ah, ah!
We'll take care of it.
Like you were never here.
Reddington refers to her as Chemical Mary.
This I.D. is more than 15 years old,
but it's the most recent photo we have.
What we know is this... Mary Bremmer
is a former MIT professor in pathobiological sciences
who was fired for ethical misconduct in '02.
Apparently she questioned the appropriateness
of a chemical-weapons ban, reasoning that if
nuclear weapons are an acceptable deterrent to war,
why not sarin gas?
There's always a market for that kind of crazy.
I mean, I assume she's found a way to monetize it.
Yeah. The CIA thinks so.
According to Langley, Bremmer supplied the weaponry
for the chlorine car-bomb massacre
in the Abu Sayda market.
As for the assassination of Kim Jong-nam,
Bremmer's role, if any, is still being investigated.
I know. It doesn't seem possible.
Well, because it's not possible.
Agent Keen would never work with someone like this.
No, Agent Keen wouldn't.
But she's not an agent anymore, is she?
Yeah, but you don't know her like we do.
Maybe that's why I can see what's really going on.
What's going on is hard. On all of us.
But the only way to find out what's really happening
is to find Agent Keen.
And right now finding Mary Bremmer
is our best hope of doing that.
Okay.
Intel placed Bremmer in the Idlib Province in 2013,
supplying sarin to Assad forces.
Now, a NATO operation intercepted her convoy.
Bremmer's vehicle was overturned during the attack.
Now, the shipment was stopped,
but Bremmer escaped and hasn't been seen since.
Bremmer's entire security detail was killed,
except for one man... Ismael Aknoz.
At the time, Aknoz refused to give
any information on Bremmer,
but after eight years of isolation
in an F-Type prison in Ankara, maybe he'll be ready to talk.
Ismael Aknoz? FBI.
We'd like to talk to you about Mary Bremmer.
_
Well. This has been productive.
We know you speak English.
You want Bremmer. So do I.
Nothing would give me more happiness than to see her dead.
Okay. Great. You help us find her,
and we'd be happy to oblige you.
Why do you want to see her dead?
What difference does it make?
You were her partner. In her convoy.
Why should we trust you?
It's her fault I'm here.
Oh, so she forced you to transport chemical weapons?
We did not know they were chemical weapons.
She told us we were moving anti-tank missiles.
So she lied to you, which is why you're gonna help us.
Thank you. No.
I hate her, yes.
But Americans?
I hate you more.
We knew you spoke English because our boss
spoke with the Ministry of Justice.
Now, you work with us, and they agreed
to move you out of isolation.
We're offering you a gift.
No matter how much you hate us, you should take it.
Your allied forces...
They could have stopped us that day.
Arrested us, peacefully.
Instead, they set up an ambush with an IED
and started shooting.
Taking the weapons wasn't enough.
They wanted to make an example of us.
And to do that...
they were willing to slaughter us.
Take your "gift" and go.
_
Who let you in here?!
Your assistant. Lovely fellow. Not very savvy.
Probably not best utilized as the gatekeeper.
Perhaps better suited to make coffee, chit-chat.
I know who you are.
Tell me, when you go on a business trip,
do you charge by the hour while you're on the plane?
Or in the car to the hotel?
Or how about when you're enjoying
the adult entertainment in your room?
Is your client paying $1,000 an hour
for every hour or minute that you masturbate?
My goodness. And the world thinks I'm a criminal.
What do you want?
For Dick the Butcher to have succeeded.
"Henry IV, Part 2," Act IV, scene II. You've heard it.
"The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers."
You seem like an appropriately loathsome place to start.
Luckily for you, I want to know where Alban Veseli is
more than I want to sully my hands or reputation
by something so obvious as disposing of you.
I don't know where he is.
But you know how to contact him.
If I do that, how do I know you won't kill me?
Because you still have a debt to repay.
Elizabeth Keen paid you to represent Veseli
with money she stole from me.
I want it back.
You want me to give you back my retainer.
Plus interest. There's the phone.
Tell Alban his life is in imminent danger,
that you can't discuss it over the phone, and set a meeting.
I think this qualifies as an emergency,
wouldn't you say, Scooter?
Look, I know we're jet-lagged, so maybe
we're not making ourselves clear. Aknoz was a dead end.
No, I know he didn't say anything.
So what part of "dead end" don't you understand?
He may not have said anything,
but I think he told you a lot.
- You have something? - I've been studying the photos
in the dossier that Mr. Reddington gave us.
The bodies in the lead Humvee from the convoy...
What do they all have in common?
Other than being really dead.
Well, they're all burned.
You said Aknoz was, too.
That's what he told us. He was disfigured.
- Chemical burns? - No.
I think there may have been an incendiary in the IED.
That Humvee burned like a bonfire.
And Bremmer only escaped after the explosion.
If everyone else was burned,
it stands to reason that she was, too.
If so, she couldn't have gotten far without any medical help.
Maybe burns like that will lead to hypovolemic shock
without timely medical intervention.
It is a life-threatening condition.
Any legitimate physician giving her aid
would have turned her over to the authorities.
So she found help outside the established
- medical community. - Dirtbag doctors without borders.
Sounds like a job for Reddington.
Reach out to him, see if he has
a medical contact who knows the area.
Sir. The flash drive that you gave me?
I got it back from my friend at the NSA.
Did he figure out the passcode?
Please. He's not... He's not that much smarter than me.
I mean, sure he knows pi out two more places,
but should one quinquadragintillion
really determine who has to buy the hot wings on bridge night?
- I don't think so. - So he couldn't open it?
Uh, sorry. Not technically, no.
He couldn't read the data, but he was able to use
a USB traffic sniffer to see the operation commands
which bear the signature of a known hacker.
She goes by the name of Rakitin.
And when I say, uh, "she," I don't mean she's a woman.
I mean, she could be. Or a man.
I'm... I'm trying to alternative pronouns
instead of defaulting to the generic "he"
to represent a man or a woman.
Rakitin could be a he or a she.
Or a they.
This is good. We know who the hacker is,
but we still need to find out what he...
Or she... hacked.
And we won't know that until you crack the passcode.
Right. I'm on it.
Tell your NSA friend he did good work.
- And buy hot wings for the month? - Yeah... I don't think so.
And they know to call us right away?
Yes. They do.
The minute The Freelancer sets foot on U.S. soil,
we'll know.
Good morning!
Would you please tell Dr. Grundig
that Lloyd Wilke is here?
Uh, do you have an appointment?
Mine is a lifetime appointment.
Ah!
What a pleasant surprise.
Quite the environment you've created here, Mickey.
I can't tell if I'm in a waiting room or a gentlemen's club.
My mouth is positively watering
for a smokey single-malt
and a smooth-draw Tatuaje Fausto.
Well, a good first impression is imperative
to setting the tone for a satisfied patient experience.
Hah! My goodness. How far you've come.
You know they used to call Mickey here
the Back-Room Butcher?
If there was a cash payment involved,
he'd operate, no questions asked.
Colleen, the break room could use a fresh pot of coffee.
You mind?
There wasn't a medical procedure in the book
you wouldn't perform... Or at least try to.
Of course that was after they stripped your license.
Cocaine, was it?
But you kicked that and saved up enough
to buy a brand-new identity from me and look at you now!
Raymond. Please. If any of this ever got out...
Well, it doesn't have to. Listen.
I'm looking for a woman named Mary Bremmer.
Three years ago, she had a mishap
near the Syrian-Turkish border.
Suffered terrible burns requiring the kind of
discrete medical care you once provided.
I don't know her.
But I suspect you may know the sawbones who treated her.
You want me to sell out another doctor?
Well, if it makes you feel any better,
the patient trades in chemical weapons.
She's a scourge on the human race.
Help me find her, and your past...
remains in the past.
I require a demonstration before I commit
such significant resources.
I hope you don't mind.
Not at all. I expected as much.
If, uh, one of your men
would retrieve the briefcase in my trunk?
Bujare.
What is wrong?
You asked for a demonstration.
I'm giving you one.
Thanks to Mr. Reddington, we got the identity
of the physician who treated Mary Bremmer.
Yeah, but in Turkey. It's gonna take us months
to obtain a search and seizure there.
Given that his records may hold the key
to our tracking a purveyor of banned weapons,
Main Justice authorized a shortcut
by working with Turkish intelligence.
Hacking his medical records.
So you were right. She was burned in the Humvee.
Badly enough to require multiple skin grafts
as well as personalized prosthetics.
Now, these photos were taken within a few days of the incident.
But these... were taken a year later.
No wonder we couldn't find her.
We ran her current looks through the Interpol database.
What did it kick back?
A single touch or an inhaled droplet
disrupts the nerve signals
to his muscles, his heart, and lungs.
In a matter of seconds,
breathing will not be option.
Six nationalities. Six aliases.
All active, but according to passport-control archives,
the last one she used was yesterday.
In Paris. Madeline Toussaint.
Remarkable. The delivery system?
One drop on the key fob was all it took.
Odorless, invisible.
Lasts for days on any hard surface.
Or load it into a crop duster and take out a town.
It's up to you.
Killing's never been easier.
For the last nine months,
Mary Bremmer's been living as Madeline Toussaint
in the Batignolles district of Paris.
She has a cover job as a quality engineer at a chemical plant.
Contact Interpol. Have them issue a Red Notice
for Bremmer's conditional arrest and extradition
based on our charges.
Then let's get a team to Paris.
I'll go to Paris.
I need your help with that passcode.
Well, I could look for it in Paris.
You know, sidewalk café, pot of coffee, couple'a croissants.
I'm on my way to Capitol Hill to ask about Rakitin.
I doubt I'll get much traction until you find out
what's on that drive.
I guess that's a no on that coffee and croissants.
We'll say hi to Mona Lisa for you.
Thank you for taking the time, Congressman.
Always happy to make time for the FBI.
Though I am surprised there was no heads-up
what you wanted to talk about. Please, sit.
Take a load off and tell me what is so hush-hush
I get an Assistant Director to make a house call.
A hacker who goes by the name Rakitin.
Never heard of him.
- Excuse me? - Anything else?
Because I got a local Elks Club waiting to take a photo.
Congressman. You chair the House Intel Committee.
I've read your report on Russian cyber intrusion.
I know you know who Rakitin is.
What I know is your title.
What I don't know is what you do because no one would tell me.
Yeah, I chair the Intel Committee,
but for some reason, I can't get any intel on you.
I run a classified task force.
- That's interested in Rakitin. - Why would that surprise you?
I doesn't. It troubles me.
Rakitin has friends in high places.
I want to make sure I'm not talking to one.
I'm sorry. I'm... I'm completely confused.
Three weeks ago, the hard drive
on my committee's computer was hacked.
All the intel we had on Rakitin was destroyed.
- I had no idea. - My top staffer on the committee
disappeared the day it happened.
Vanished into thin air.
And she was a patriot. A good person.
But someone got to her.
And if they got to her, maybe they got to you.
Maybe you're here to see what I know about Rakitin,
and if I know too much,
maybe you're gonna want to erase my hard drive.
Here's a name and a number. Call it. Ask about me.
If you're satisfied with what you hear,
we can talk more.
If not,
thank you for your time.
I'm sure it seems like I'm being overly paranoid.
If we do talk, I'd like to hear more about that hack.
I have some paranoia of my own
about who might have been behind it.
Rogelio. I hear you have news.
A location... and a room number.
Ah.
A youth hostel.
How unexpectedly romantic.
Is there anywhere you don't have eyes and ears?
I got either a maid, a waiter, a waitress, a busboy,
or a bellhop in every corner of the city.
Thank you, my friend.
And please give my regards to Carlos.
Unfortunately, he's been deported... again.
And your friend's tunnel in Calexico has been shut down.
Ah, the goings-on at the border.
One side builds, the other shuts down.
They hide, they seek, they come, they go.
It's all so... "Tom and Jerry."
Yes, the tunnel is closed,
but the submarine is fully operational.
And for tracking down Alban Veseli,
it will always be at your disposal.
I once had a brief dust-up with an Armenian fellow
who took umbrage at my acquisition
of a pipeline outside Kajaran.
I tried to avoid him by hiding out in a hostel.
- You "tried." Did he find you? - No.
But after three days of communal showers and curdled yogurt,
James Taylor wannabes, I couldn't stand it anymore.
So I stole a backpack and a Fodor's Guide
and hiked to Turkey through the Armenian Highlands.
The Highlands. Mount Ararat.
Yes. And FYI... no Ark.
Ah. Some things never change.
No cameras. No security.
Smart place to lay low.
Not here.
Ah!
Running in a towel never ends well.
Put some pants on, and let's talk.
I did as you suggested, Mr. Cooper.
Checked up on you with Cynthia Panabaker.
A straight arrow if ever there was one.
- She likes you. - Does she, now?
Well, she said, "He won't pee on your leg
and tell you it's rainin'."
Sounds like Cynthia.
You said before that you were looking
for information about Rakitin.
I'm curious what your committee knows about him.
Not a hell of a lot, to be honest.
We don't have an I.D.
Hell, Rakitin could be an entire hacker group for all we know.
But he's using a series of servers in Volgograd,
and he is targeting some of our most carefully guarded secrets.
- Such as...? - The identities
of CIA assets in Yasenevo...
their funding sources,
hacks of our own internal threat assessments.
What does he do with this intel?
There are a lot of theories.
NSA thinks he's a black-market profiteer.
CIA's convinced he's a turncoat.
And what do you think?
Have you ever heard of N-13?
Sleeper agent.
A Russian asset who vanished during the Cold War
and was never proven to exist.
It's a 30-year-old ghost story.
What if it's not?
What if that asset is here?
Not only active and deeply embedded,
but maneuvering within our intel community?
I don't know whose trust he might have gained...
CIA, Defense Intelligence... God forbid, the FBI.
But I think he's been here a long time.
Long enough, he's become one of us.
And he's using us.
You think Rakitin's feeding active intel to N-13.
I do.
I think I'm the only man on this hill
who may believe your ghost story about a Russian spy.
Go on.
We've recently intercepted a thumb drive
containing sensitive intel we believe was obtained by Rakitin.
I suspect he intended to deliver that drive to N-13.
Why do you say that?
Did anything on the drive identify N-13?
All I can say is our source believes it was intended
for someone on our Most Wanted List.
Well, whoever your source is, he or she is way off base.
I'm telling you... N-13 is buried
deep within the U.S. government.
That said, I strongly encourage you to follow up on it.
Based on what I know of Rakitin,
he and N-13 pose an imminent threat to national security.
I must admit I'm surprised you took this contract, Alban.
I'd never pretend to call us friends,
but we are professional associates.
It's a job.
Unbridled resentment. Is that what this is all about?
You somehow blame me for you going to prison.
- You are why I went to prison. - No.
You went to prison because you were caught doing a job
I hired you to do.
Don't blame me for your failed cut-and-run.
I've been in that box for seven years.
And now you're out. Because of Elizabeth Keen.
That is why you're aligned with her, isn't it?
You bear me resentment for your failure,
and now you both want me dead?
What's he so worked up about?
Talk to me about Agent Keen. Tell me where I can find her.
No idea.
Raymond.
You just flew in from Paris. What were you doing there?
Taking a tour of the Temple de I'Amour?
Strolling along the Canal Saint-Martin?
What do you think? I was setting up the job.
- I have no plans to be in France. - So?
So how were you going to carry out your contract?
What's wrong with him? How were you going to kill me?
The contract's not on you.
Who were you hired to kill?
_
Madeline Toussaint.
At least that's the name she's using right now.
This is the address she gave her current employer.
If she's here, we're gonna have to make the provisional arrest.
You can file for extradition afterward.
We're just here for backup.
_
Where is she?
_
She's visiting an aunt in Albania. She'll be back later today.
_
Gun!
Hang on. We'll get help.
She's dead.
You know how much I love I told you so, Harold,
so I confirmed the fact straight from the source.
Elizabeth sprung The Freelancer
so she could engage his services.
I refuse to believe that.
Alban Veseli cloaks assassination in mass murder.
I don't care how far she's slipped,
Agent Keen would never use The Freelancer to kill you.
You're half-right. She didn't hire him to kill me.
She hired him to kill Chemical Mary.
- Mary Bremmer. Why? - I'm not sure.
I'm hoping a slightly more creative
line of questioning will persuade him to reveal his plan.
But one thing is clear... It's already in motion.
Ressler's at Bremmer's residence in Paris now.
She's apparently flying back from Albania today.
A transcontinental flight filled with innocent passengers?
We're contacting the airlines now.
_
Merci!
Move swiftly, Harold.
If Mary Bremmer boards that plane...
I'll bet you nickels to navy beans
the only way it comes down is in pieces.
We got a hit on one of Bremmer's passports.
She's currently en route to France on Parisian Air.
Okay. We're 10 minutes from Charles de Gaulle.
- How long before she lands? - About a half an hour,
but we have to assume that plane won't land.
There are 162 passengers on board, including families.
And he'll kill everyone.
Wait. I thought The Freelancer was going after Reddington.
That's what we all thought.
Alright. The airline's confirming that Bremmer's
on the boarded-passenger manifest.
So Keen's taking out a chemical arms trader...
Air hugs for that... But she's gonna waste a plane
full of passengers in the process?
Have the airport authority prepare for contingencies...
Rescue units, medics. You know the routine.
Okay. Thank you. Uh, I've got the tower.
I've got air-traffic control on the line.
Call me when you're on site.
Copy that.
Hello. This is Harold Cooper.
I'm the Assistant Director of the FBI
calling from Washington, D.C.
Stephan Gervais. ATC Supervisor. What's going on?
We have a credible threat that someone's trying
to bring down Parisian Air flight 2419.
- Really? How? - Well, we don't know that yet, Stephan.
We need your help figuring it out.
Parisian Air 2-4-1 niner.
Are you currently experiencing
any problems or equipment malfunctions?
Negative, Tower. Everything is showing normal at this time.
Anything unusual show up in your preflight checklist?
Nothing. May I ask why?
Switch to discrete frequency 133.6.
What do you want me to tell them?
Should they be looking for a bomb?
Suspect engages
in terrorist activities disguised as accidents.
It's doubtful he'd use explosives.
Okay, he was physically on that plane.
Airport security has footage of him entering the cabin
along with the cleaning crew.
Tower, is there anything
we should be worried about up here?
We've just begun our descent.
Stand by. One moment.
They just started their descent.
- The instrument panel. - What about it?
Seven years ago, Veseli derailed a passenger trail
by making it hit a curve too fast.
Clear! Clear out!
He did that by rigging the two speed-data sources
in the control cabin to show the train traveling
at a slower speed than its actual rate.
Can your pilots check their controls for signs of tampering?
Parisian Air 2-4-1 niner, it's possible
your flight controls have been physically compromised.
Can you take a careful look around?
Roger. Stand by, Tower.
- There is a thumb drive here. - We got something.
Someone left a thumb drive inside the Data Loader.
There's a panel inside the cockpit
for software and database updates.
Someone left a thumb drive inside.
Which could be corrupting their instruments
or running its own scripts.
Oh, no.
You said the plane's making its approach.
Are your tracking systems showing anything unusual?
Our GPS system is based entirely on information
transmitted to us from the aircraft.
If that plane isn't where it should be right now,
we would not know it from down here.
Okay, that data stick wasn't left there by accident.
It is a brute-force attack. Take it out! Take it out now!
Parisian Air 2-4-1 niner.
Remove the drive from the Data Loader.
I repeat! Remove the drive!
Copy, Tower.
Warning.
- Warning. - Autopilot off!
Flight directors off.
- _ - What's going on?
They're too low. Immediate right turn!
Heading 2-3-zero!
Traffic is directly in front of you!
I have control!
Ladies and gentlemen, I'm terribly sorry
for that sudden shift in altitude.
We obviously had an incident,
but we are safe and on course and will be landing shortly.
- What's happening?! - Uh, are... are they dying?
No, sir.
I believe those are cries of celebration.
Tower. Parisian Air 2-4-1 niner.
We are clear of the traffic and climbing to 8,000.
We will be begin our approach for landing.
_
Excuse me. A passenger. Mary Bremmer?
Oh, that's it. That's everyone.
- Are you sure? - Feel free to take a look,
but I checked the cabins personally.
There's no one left on the plane.
Mary Bremmer was not ever on that plane.
She made it to the airport,
but she was abducted outside the terminal.
What about the passenger manifest?
You said it showed her on board.
Shortly after Bremmer was taken,
an unidentified woman entered the terminal
with her passport and ticket, which was slipped into the purse
of an unsuspecting passenger at the gate.
The unidentified woman then left the terminal,
and the passenger boarded the flight as Bremmer.
This "unidentified woman." She look familiar to you?
These are the best images we could pull, but, yes...
we believe it's Keen.
So, Elizabeth conducted an operatic performance,
getting an assassin out of prison,
elaborately sabotaging a commercial airliner,
only to snatch her target from the jaws of death
at the last second?
Perhaps she wanted the world to believe
Bremmer died in that crash.
To what end?
I can't fathom.
It's more likely Elizabeth wanted
Bremmer to think she saved her life,
which would put Bremmer in Elizabeth's debt.
Whatever they're working on,
we're gonna make it as difficult as possible.
Our people are combing through Bremmer's flat in Paris
and have ID'd a number of associates.
Teams are en route as we speak.
I still can't get over the fact that Elizabeth
was willing to let The Freelancer crash two planes.
I was holding out hope for her. We all were.
But now?
It seems she's past the point of no return.
- FBI! - Turn around!
Give me your hands!
I'll try to leave the moralizing to you, Harold.
In the meantime, perhaps this will ease your pain.
Tell Donald to pay a visit to this address.
What is this?
Your team worked very hard to put
The Freelancer behind bars the first time around.
I think that's probably the right place for him.
Thank you for the Scotch.
Whoa, whoa. Easy, brah.
The man in the hat said the popo would be here.
Why does this feel like an empty victory?
Because this guy has no idea
what Keen's up to with Chemical Mary.
Open this door right now!
I want to see her!
Where is she?! The woman!
I want to talk to her!
Do you hear me?!
Ugh!
Open this door right now! I want to see her!
Angela is the one you were asking about.
She's the one who told me that Veseli was at the hostel.
Angela, I can't thank you enough.
I just have one question.
I need to know how you came by this valuable information.
It was...
a woman.
This woman?
Ah.
I, uh, asked her
how she know that I was looking for him.
She wouldn't say.
Gracias.
Oh, and your cousin Carlos.
I'm told he's somewhere under the Gulf of Mexico as we speak.
Muchas gracias, Raymond.
If there's anything I can do for you...
You've done more than you know. And all to the good.
Well, that's a load off.
Elizabeth wanted you to find The Freelancer.
Yeah.
Knowing that when we did, we'd work with the FBI
to stop him from crashing that plane.
So she hires a lawyer to obtain Veseli's freedom,
pays Veseli to crash a plane,
uses the threat of that crash to gain Chemical Mary's trust,
gives us intel to keep the plane from going down.
Sounds like one of your plans.
It doesn't, doesn't it?
She may not be interested in crash a plane,
but she's still in business with a war criminal.
Tomorrow's problem.
Tonight, we savor the small victory.
And we should tell Edward to fuel the jet.
We need to pay our friend in Moscow a visit.
Uh, hi. Um, sir, uh, sorry to...
It's, uh, late, and, uh, you're drinking... alone...
Uh, which is... which is, fine. I mean, I can...
What is it?
- Good news on the passcode. - You cracked it.
What? Oh, uh, no.
Uh, that would be great news, like miraculously great.
No. Uh, the good news is I figured out how to crack it.
With this.
I don't think Rakitin chose a steel flash drive
to protect his software.
If I'm right, there's a capacitive scanner
hidden in the flash drive.
It is the best security platform in passwordless identification.
So there's no password.
It's biometric. And that is where this comes in.
Get the print, put it in, and...
open sesame.
Or, um, you know, some less
politically incorrect exclamation.
- So all I need is a fingerprint. - Yeah.
And that is where the miracle comes in.
Figuring out whose print to use.
Thank you, Aram.
Here's hoping for a miracle.
_
Raymond!
_
Thank you for coming.
We have much to discuss.
I am told Rakitin is in play.
My safe deposit box was compromised.
The flash drive I entrusted you with?
I'm still looking for it.
No doubt we have Elizabeth Keen to thank
for it going missing.
My position in regard to her has not changed.
I understand. She is untouchable.
But you must understand...
Harold Cooper is not.
Will miracles never cease?
If he gains access to the Rakitin files,
you'll have to eliminate him.
I understand.
*CREDITS*