...101.2 Seven Valleys Radio.
And pushing Janet Jackson off her four-week reign
at the top of the charts,
here's Roxette with their new single...
At the Berlin Wall at the Brandenburg Gate,
I'm Tom Brokaw.
Brandenburg Gate, of course, is in East Berlin,
and the sound that y hear and what you're seeing tonight...
not hammers and sickles, but hammers and chisels
as young people take down this wall bit by bit.
Earlier this evening, the Communist Central Committee
in East Berlin...
End of an era, huh?
"Era." We need a five-letter word that ends in "H."
Tonight, citizens from both Germanys...
- Uh... "epoch." - ...are singing and dancing
- Reunited right on top... - Hey, girls still asleep?
Karen picked them up already.
On the east side of the Berlin Wall,
something new tonight.
Soldiers dismantling it, not guarding it with rifles.
I, uh... I got to get to work.
Sweetheart, it's still early.
Early is on time,
on time is late,
and late is unacceptable.
No. Please.
Who sent you? We can talk.
We... We can... We can talk!
Synced & corrected by -robtor- www.addic7ed.com
THE TRAVEL AGENCY (No. 90)
Ooh, can I play?
Uh! You're in my line of sight.
Oh, there's a hole under the lighthouse.
I'm playing the carom.
Ah.
That's it.
Dembe and I have scheduled a tournament.
It's been in the works for some time,
but we couldn't quite settle on a format.
I finally unearthed the Peoria System
with a double-par limit, and here we are.
The tournament is this week.
And I have every intention of winning.
Oh! And here I thought all old, rich, white men
were good at golf.
Maybe it's my putter.
Mitchell Dunning of Dupont Circle
is about to be assassinated.
I'm sorry... Mitchell who?
Dunning.
He found me through an associate of mine
and is looking to disappear.
My problem is that I don't have the resources
to help him at present.
Yours is that Mr. Dunning believes
the hit was contracted through the Travel Agency.
A travel agency?
Not a travel agency, Elizabeth.
The Travel Agency...
a murder-for-hire ring
that lived in the shadows for nearly 30 years.
Their assassins carried out a variety of contract hits
until they mysteriously closed their doors 12 years ago,
dashing any hope that law enforcement might one day
solve the rash of killings the Agency left in their wake.
So if this Dunning guy is right and they are after him...
Innocents and not-so-innocents have targets on their backs,
beginning with Mitchell Dunning.
The Travel Agency was a consortium of anonymous killers
responsible for a variety of unsolved murders...
the assassination of a civil-rights activist in 1983,
the poisoning of an anti-Glasnost Soviet businessman
in '87.
What do we know about the man
who Reddington says is the next target?
Mitchell David Dunning.
Lives in Dupont Circle and imports high-end furniture.
Offices in Paris, London, and New York.
Keen, Navabi, find him and pull him into protective custody.
I want to know who wants him dead
and why he thinks the Travel Agency
was contracted to do the job.
Agent Ressler.
A word?
There's a personal matter that I need to attend to.
Is everything all right?
Honestly, I'm not sure.
But I need you to oversee things here until it's taken care of.
- I'm sorry. Unavoidable. - Of course.
- Yeah? - I'm looking for Isaiah.
- Who? - Isaiah Hill.
Never heard of him.
You gonna open this damn door, or are we gonna have a problem?
Hello?
Hey! I'm gonna call the cops!
Special Agent Harold Cooper. FBI.
I'm not here on official business... yet.
O-Okay, look, I met him a couple days ago.
I said I needed a place to crash.
He tossed me his keys. I haven't seen him since.
Where'd he go?
We still unofficial?
Only if you give me a straight answer.
Isaiah Hill... where is he?
- You packed the laptop, right? - I told you... yes.
Along with the phone and the chargers.
- What'd your sister say? - Cabin's empty.
Garage code is the address backwards.
Here... you finish the bags. I'm gonna set the alarm.
Mitchell Dunning? FBI... agents Navabi and Keen.
FBI? I don't... What's going on?
We believe there may be a threat to your life.
- We need you to come with us. - What threat?
There can't... You must have me confused with someone else.
- Are you going somewhere? - Upstate for the weekend.
It's Wednesday.
Look, officers, I appreciate your concern,
but clearly, you've got the wrong guy.
There's no threat. I'm a salesman. I import...
I'm sorry to be asking you these questions now,
but if we're gonna find whoever did this,
we need to know everything you know.
Everything was fine, and then suddenly,
he was rushing us out of the house,
and then you show up, and...
I can't believe this.
Liz, you have to see this.
I found it in the car.
Do you know this man, Mrs. Dunning?
No.
Why? Who is he?
Are you following me now?
Mr. Kaplan gave you a suitcase.
In it was a skeleton she never should have unearthed
and whose identity must remain secret.
I don't know what you're talking about.
I understand the temptation...
acting on a fine woman's dying wish...
But your quest
has cost Nik Korpal his life,
and persisting will put whomever you involve in harm's way.
I prefer no one gets hurt.
Secrets put people in harm's way.
Keeping them in the dark... a talent you and I share.
Or shared. I'm out of that business.
And if I have a quest, it's to shine a light
on the darkness you create...
to help Liz find her way out of the enormous shadow you cast.
You asked Nik to identify the bones,
and he was killed for his trouble
by someone who knows their identity
and, therefore, their value.
That killer is likely searching for a way to contact me
since, knowing their value,
he knows they are most valuable to me.
I will allow myself to be found, recover the suitcase,
eliminate the man for his troubles,
and rebury the body in a place
where it will be lost to the sands of time,
as originally intended.
Whatever secret you're hiding from Liz...
it'll come out.
Family secrets always do.
What's in the envelope?
What envelope?
You will stop looking for Pete McGee.
You are to act as if Pete McGee never existed.
- Say it. - Is he doing this? Did he send you?
Say it, Lena.
Pete McGee doesn't exist.
Keep it that way.
Or I'll be back.
I don't understand.
You think this man who was killed
was looking into my father's murder?
Did they know each other?
We were hoping that you might be able to answer that.
Mitchell Dunning...
I don't think I've ever seen him.
Were you and your father close?
We were.
After Mom passed, I used to come out here every week,
help out around the house.
Did he ever come to visit you?
In the city? God, no.
I don't think Dad ever left the state
after he closed the Agency.
I'm sorry... the Agency?
The Seawall Travel Agency.
Dad owned it for years.
Landry, do you know
if your father happened to keep any of his old work records?
Knobbs traveled the world with his family.
And orchestrated hits.
Check this out.
The civil-rights activist...
the Soviet businessman.
Knobbs and his wife, from vacation.
Look at the man in the background.
It's Mitchell Dunning.
Our two victims with nothing in common
owned a murder business.
That means the people in the Travel Agency
aren't killing people... they're being killed.
The name and address of the miscreant you're looking for.
How reliable are your sources?
I understand you've placed Donald
in charge of the task force.
I'm looking for the son of a good friend.
A young man whose father was killed last year
and who drowned his understandable sorrow
in drugs and alcohol.
Mother took him to counselors.
With Char and I, she organized an intervention.
And we'll do it all again... as often as it takes.
But we can't do any of it until we know where he is.
My only lead is this dealer... Castro.
I don't want to go busting into a place
on unofficial business
unless I know it's the right one.
So are your sources reliable?
Yes.
You're going to need backup.
To check some punk?
Sounds like a delightful way to spend an afternoon.
We can play "Celebrity" on the way.
I appreciate the name. And the offer.
I must warn you... I know all the absurdists.
I kill with Camus.
Camus is not a celebrity.
He is to me.
Thank you for this.
But I'll take it from here.
FBI.
I'm looking...
Castro... where is he?
I told you I didn't need help.
We couldn't resist.
...101.2 Seven Valleys Radio.
And pu...
Earlier this evening, the Communist Central Committee
- in East Berlin... - End of an era, huh?
"Era."
We need a five-letter word that ends in "H."
Yeah... "epoch."
Are the girls asleep?
Karen picked them up already.
Soldiers dismantling it,
not guarding it with rifles.
I, uh... I got to get to work.
Sweetheart, it's still early.
Early is on time,
on time is late,
and late is unacceptable.
The Seawall Travel Agency,
based out of Allentown, Pennsylvania,
was a storefront used by Knobbs and Dunning
to facilitate their murder-for-hire business.
So Knobbs and Dunning are the two principals.
Yeah, who hid their association
behind a ton of financial loopholes.
But the dossiers we found
account for dozens of unsolved murders.
- They must've had help. - Yep.
And according to some of the other documents you seized,
they had a large support staff who were doing far more
than booking eight-day cruises to Acapulco.
What do you mean "had"?
So, evidently, Seawall shell companies
were also secretly paying account executives,
private investigators, weapons-procurement techs,
and a variety of what I can only assume were handlers.
All of whom are dead.
Every employee of a murder-for-hire company murdered.
Except for one.
Mr. Argon Wright,
a shipping agent out of Baltimore.
All right, well, let's bring him in while he's still breathing.
Navabi, let's go.
Fentanyl is like snake venom.
100 times more powerful than morphine.
A lethal dose of heroin is about 30 milligrams?
3 milligrams of fentanyl
is enough to kill an average-size male.
In every conceivable way,
I'd say you're well below average.
I don't even know who you are, old man.
But you're a cop, man. You gonna stand there and let him shoot me up?
We're looking for Isaiah Hill.
We think you know where he is.
Tell us... or you overdose.
If you argue, you overdose.
If the next syllable out your sorry-ass mouth
doesn't point us in the direction of Isaiah Hill,
you overdose.
Am I clear?
Good.
'Cause right now, I'm an off-duty cop.
And as an off-duty cop, I'll do whatever it takes
to find that young man.
Anything to say?
No? Nothing?
Perhaps half a milligram will be enough
to loosen your tongue.
Whoa, whoa, whoa!
W-W-Whoa! Hold on! Hold on! hold-on!
I-I didn't sell him drugs.
All right, he...
he bought a gun.
A gun?
That's not a location.
Maybe another milligram will jog your memory.
Look, my... my guy delivered it to him in Ivy City.
Brick building on the corner of 16 and Oak.
Apartment 3.
You just missed the ride of a lifetime.
Lena? It's me... Tom.
Come in.
All right, so, I ran a search on Pete at the courthouse.
Turns out he pled guilty to mail fraud. Why?
Because he sold thousands of patient medical records
to insurance companies so they could deny coverage,
lost his license, and would've spent 12 years
in prison if he didn't flip on the...
What are you doing? You going somewhere?
You should go.
Did you hear what I said? Pete is a bad guy.
I don't want to talk about Pete.
You said you were gonna help me find him.
- You should really go. - Did he get to you?
- Was Pete here? - I don't want to talk about it.
And I'm sorry that your friend got killed
and that you lost something important to you,
but I can't help you.
I went to the D.C. clerk's office.
There was no record that Pete McGee was ever married.
What?
Five minutes.
Just to show you what I found.
Argon Wright? Agents Ressler, Navabi... FBI.
FBI? What's going on?
We have reason to believe you may be in danger.
Why would I be in danger? What do you mean? From who?
- We know about Knobbs and Dunning. - Knobbs and Dunning?
I don't... Who are Knobbs and Dunning?
All right, drop the act. We know about your...
Down! Down!
Get down! Gun!
Move! Get out of the way!
Move! Out of the way!
Mr. C?!
We need names. Asset names...
Everything was compartmentalized.
We never saw each other.
I didn't even know the names of the operators I handled.
- Think a little harder. - Hey look, lady, I don't know.
It's...
That gunman... the guy in the car.
- Yeah, the Oldsmobile. - I used to run an asset
who drove a car just like that... '86 Olds.
I mean, this was nearly 30 years ago.
- What was his name? - I told you... we didn't use names.
All I know... we called him No. 5.
You may not have known his name,
but you had to have a protocol.
The Agency would give me the target.
Once they sent the dossier, I'd page No. 5 a signal... 342.
3-4-2?
It's a reference to a post-office box...
in Seven Valleys.
It's where he'd pick up his assignments.
342?
Do you have a record of it?
Lucky for you, I don't need one.
Why is that?
Because Mr. Dawson has had that box
since before I worked here.
- Mr. Dawson? - Calvin.
Hardly comes in, though. Not sure why he keeps it.
Most of his mail is delivered to the home.
- So his house is here in town? - Not a house.
He lives at the convalescent home up on Elm... Briar Oak.
The message was delivered.
Looks like the target is standing down.
You could've killed us.
It's a miracle we weren't hurt.
Are you even listening?
Why are you here? And with a gun.
Whoever you thought you were shooting at,
if you tell us who they are, we can help you.
- Who are you? - What are you doing with a gun?
- Protecting myself. - From who?
Line forms to the left.
Perhaps you could be a tad more specific.
How about cops? Like you.
- He's not a cop. - Cops who beat.
- Cops who kill. - He's not a cop.
- Then who is he? - A criminal.
Isaiah, please... who were you shooting at?
I needed to buy something,
and my regular guy wasn't holding.
"Something." Fentanyl?
I heard about this guy... Zeke Wilson.
He owns a club... 24/7 action.
If you can get in, it's like a candy store.
I knew I couldn't get in the front,
so I tried the back.
Zeke was there in the alley, arguing with a guy.
Zeke... he shot him.
So you're a witness he's trying to get rid of.
You should've told me, son.
I am not your son.
No, you're not.
But I am your friend, and I'm here to help.
Will you let me?
I told my boss I forgot something up here.
I'm in Pete's office. I'm putting you on speaker.
And you know his passwords?
I thought I did.
Then again, I thought he was married.
Okay, anything Pete found out about the bones I gave him,
what he knows, or where he is, it won't be labeled
or easy to find, so you got to upload everything.
Who tells someone they're married when they're not?
Isn't it usually the other way around?
Pete's a con artist. He conned us both.
He killed my friend, and now he's sent someone to frame you.
I got in. It's uploading.
I'm sorry... where is Mr. Dawson?
We were told he lived here.
He does.
But he's with Eleanor now... his wife.
She stops by occasionally and takes him out for a day or so.
Can you tell us about his condition?
Calvin was injured years ago in a robbery...
beaten badly and left for dead.
Truthfully, he's lucky to have survived it at all.
But the brain injury left him with anterograde amnesia.
And what does that mean?
Calvin can't form new memories.
He can operate in the present,
but what happen 10 hours or 10 days ago,
for him, it's as if it never happened.
But his long-term memory is still intact?
Yes... everything that happened prior to the injury.
- End of an era, huh? - As far as he's concerned,
the last 30 years didn't happen.
He can do the same puzzle,
read the same book, eat the same meal...
- "Epoch." - Every time, it's brand-new.
What about when he sees a new car or a flat-screen TV?
Well, visual cues that are in conflict
with his world view... that's he's living in 1989...
simply don't register.
They go into his mental spam folder.
Where are the girls? They still asleep?
Karen picked them up early today.
We need to speak with Mr. Dawson.
Do you have a contact number or address for his wife?
Hey, I should get to work.
Isn't it early?
Early is on time,
on time is late, and late...
Hello?
Oh.
Yes, hi.
Oh. Oh.
Yes, I understand.
Thank you.
Who was that? What's wrong?
Daycare.
Mia was on the playground and took a fall.
They're taking her to the hospital.
Is she okay? We... We should go.
Let me get my purse.
FBI!
My side is clear!
Move!
Still warm.
Clear!
Samar?
"Morning radio," November 9, 1989.
Dunning.
Knobbs.
Wright.
All of them.
Eleanor, what's going on?
I told you... there's been...
an incident.
The wife... he lied to her.
Led her to believe he worked at an actual travel agency,
had a normal life.
She had no idea.
I was just trying to get by, trying to take care of you.
After the accident, somehow, somewhere,
there was a slip-up, and she picked up on it.
I was at the bank, trying to figure out
how to keep up with the medical bills...
your medical bills... when the bank manager asked me
why I hadn't dipped into your personal account.
What account? Eleanor, I don't understand.
That's exactly what I said.
She stumbled onto his finances.
I was able to connect the dots by following the money.
Your travels were like a map.
A congressman from Utah murdered
while he was in Salt Lake.
A South African police general gunned down
while he was in Cape Town.
You can't imagine how angry and afraid I was
to find out that the man that I loved,
the father of my children,
was a monster.
There's no closure in confronting a man
who doesn't even know what day it is,
so she just kept digging.
Every name, every number.
It took me four years to get to the Travel Agency,
and another six to figure out who worked there.
Finally, she figured out his protocols...
The codes, the systems.
...how the long-defunct Travel Agency
communicated with their assets.
The post box in Seven Valleys was the final piece.
I figured out how it worked.
The pages, the dossiers.
And she used those same protocols
to run her husband.
Took advantage of his amnesia,
making him believe it was still 1989,
using him as her own contract killer
to take out those in the Travel Agency.
All the while, he had no idea.
Wh... wh... wh... whatever...
whatever you think happened, whatever you think I've done...
Oh, I know exactly what you did.
But you don't. Because you forget everything.
What a blessing that must be.
Isaiah's father was pulled over for having expired plates.
He got out of the car to see for himself.
Officer told him to get back in the vehicle.
But he'd paid for the tags.
He knew there had to be some mistake.
He was unarmed.
He just wanted to see for himself.
Officer gave him a second warning.
When he reached to get his wallet,
the officer shot him.
Six times.
Isaiah watched the man who murdered his father
tried and acquitted on all accounts.
For him... for so many like him...
it's the gospel truth that if you're black in this country
and you say the wrong word, you could be killed.
Ask the wrong question, look the wrong way,
you can be killed.
Almost every cop I've served with, black or white,
I'd be proud to call my brother.
It tears me up knowing what so many people
in my community think of them...
just like it tears me up knowing that the cops
who kill my other brothers
will almost never be held responsible.
Harold, your justice system protects those cops
as it will protect you,
no matter what you do to Zeke Wilson.
Zeke Wilson... is a bloodsucking scum
who preys on people like Isaiah.
Yes.
And if you choose to hold him responsible
for what happened to Isaiah's father
or for all the people of color who are killed
for saying the wrong thing or looking the wrong way,
you can do that.
You may be black, Harold, but you carry a badge,
and like it or not, that means you're a made man.
Your justice system will protect you,
just like it protected the cop who killed Isaiah's father.
Is that your observation or your advice?
My observation is that you came to this party
with an unregistered handgun.
My advice would be... as Isaiah's father
got six bullets, I'd give Zeke Wilson 12,
order a rib eye, raise a glass of Château Latour,
and toast to a job well done.
Sounds like a plan.
Yes... if I were going in there.
But I'm not.
You're taking it from here, Harold.
And while your system won't hold you to account
for whatever you choose to do, your conscience will.
Though, on the off chance that I've overestimated
your tendency toward self-restraint,
Dembe will be there to watch your back.
Hold up.
Zeke Wilson.
Don't point. Don't signal.
Just nod.
Guy on the couch? Beard?
Special Agent Harold Cooper, FBI.
"Special Agent."
What makes you special, Agent Cooper?
I'm taking you in on felony charges
of intimidating a witness.
Witness to what?
Murder.
And when he gives his statement,
I'll be charging you with that, as well.
I got no idea what you're talking about.
Isaiah Hill is a friend of mine.
Isaiah Hill?
You sure you want to go down this road?
'Cause accidents happen to snitches even when their friend's a G.
- Are you threatening him? - I'm just saying... accidents happen.
Hit by a car, drown in a pool.
You can't arrest someone for an accident, can you,
Not-So-Special Agent Cooper?
You're right. I'm not so special.
But I want my friend to have a chance at life,
and I want scum like you where they belong.
Zeke Wilson.
You're under arrest.
We need a location on Eleanor Belle Dawson.
Notify state patrol we're looking for a black '86 Oldsmobile.
We already issued a BOLO,
but tracking these two is gonna be difficult.
Dawson leads an analog life, which means no technology
to trace... no cell, no navigation.
What about the pager?
His wife probably used it to signal Dawson.
There is only one number that's been calling that pager...
each page coming on the same day as a killing.
The wife's burner.
Aram, we need you to get a trace on that burner.
Yeah, all over it.
What are we doing here? Why are we in a cemetery?
Calvin, sweetheart,
we're here to see the children.
Every day, I tell you Karen picked up Sam and Mia early.
Karen hasn't picked up the girls in 30 years.
They're dead, Calvin.
No.
We were in Miami on what I thought was a family vacation.
I collapsed at the pool.
My appendix burst.
Do you remember?
When I went into surgery,
you took the girls out of the hospital.
You told me you didn't want them to be scared.
But what you didn't tell me
was that you had somewhere to be that afternoon.
A job.
El... Eleanor?
Not my girls.
You took our girls with you to kill a man.
You left them in the car
and walked inside the back of a restaurant
to do a job
which should've taken you... what, two minutes?
But it didn't take you two minutes, Calvin.
Because the man you went to kill knew you were coming...
got a jump on you,
left you for dead, bleeding and beaten in the alley
while our girls were locked in the car...
too young to know any better.
The medical examiner said
electrolyte abnormalities kicked in
and sparked cardiac arrhythmias
and something he called "skin slippage."
Everyone from Seawall is dead.
Except Wright.
The police got to him.
But everyone else.
It doesn't bring the girls back
or make me feel as good as I thought it would...
but you did it.
Eleanor Dawson! FBI!
I need you to put that gun down!
They told me you were at the convalescent home
looking for him.
You know who he is, right?
Yes.
If you put your gun down, we can talk about it.
I want to talk about it.
I don't know what you people think is gonna happen.
You don't gain anything by arresting me
or putting me in jail.
I'm not a danger to society, like he is!
My name is Elizabeth.
I'm a mother, like you.
I want to understand.
You're a mother?
Yes.
Oh, good.
Then you'll understand this.
That's it.
That's my statement about what I saw.
What comes next?
The U.S. attorney
will review what you said,
decide whether to file charges.
And if it goes to court, you'll be called to testify.
In court? Against Wilson?
Where everyone can see?
Nothing will happen if you do.
- You have my word on that. - The word of a cop?
A cop who knows what you're going through.
My father marched for Dr. King.
He was attacked by police dogs in Birmingham,
was beaten on Bloody Sunday.
For his troubles, the Bureau opened up a secret file on him,
called him a radical, enemy of the state.
He was my hero,
and the organization I've devoted my life to
did everything in its power to destroy him.
But that's why I devoted my life to it...
to make that the Bureau never did to another black man
what it did to my old man.
And mine.
Come on. I'll take you home.
I need some help, Mr. Cooper.
I'm gonna try.
But I think I need some help.
Yeah.
Let's get you home, Isaiah.
Did you find what you were looking for?
Nope. But I did find this.
"Congratulations, Lena Mercer.
You have qualified to receive a UVA Visa card."
I don't understand.
You have Pete's passwords. He has yours.
And he's using them to open new credit cards in your name.
The reason we can't find Pete is he's not using his accounts.
He's using yours.
And that's how we're gonna find him.
The warning didn't take.
Yes, sir. I'll make sure of it next time.
I feel like you're a natural golfer,
and I'm... just not.
You're naturally good at many things.
Like what?
You're good company.
Well, that doesn't count!
I'll think of something.
You know what? Never mind.
Slow down!
Liz, why are we running?
I don't know why we just flew across town.
Will you?
What?
I know it's super spur-of-the-moment,
and this is not very romantic.
I mean, we're under fluorescent lights.
These pens are attached to the table, for God's sake,
but...
Look.
With everything I see in a day,
I just feel so lucky to have you.
And if we don't do this now...
Hey.
Yes.
That's it. I now pronounce you husband and wife.
*CREDITS*