Choke me a little. I like it.
Synced & corrected by -robtor- www.addic7ed.com
_
Weecha, if Mierce is able to read me,
are you able to read her?
- I don't. - You don't or can't?
Looking for Elizabeth's killer...
this compulsion is...
I don't blame her for leaving.
Mierce didn't leave because of what you are doing.
She left because what you are doing
has revealed you to be a different man
from the one you were with her in her home in the mountain.
When this is done and I'm that man again,
will your sister take me back?
Is that man still in there somewhere?
That'll be Harold.
I thought you had a case.
I do, and a funeral.
Once I give you one, I'm going to the other.
I'm sorry. Your friend... were the two of you close?
We were.
We worked together quite often over the years.
He was a good man.
Speaking of the dearly departed,
Ambassador Warren was found dead
after shaking the sheets with someone
other than his better half.
His obit says he was a beloved family man who was murdered in his home.
High gloss to cover a low truth.
This says MPD has no leads.
That's because they're not intimately acquainted with Fredrica Carrellas,
madam to the affluent and influential.
- And you are? - Naturally.
She has information, secrets, large and small.
And the ambassador was her client?
Until recently.
Apparently, he informed her that he was closing his account
and availing himself of new pleasures.
How is that relevant to his death?
Well, he was availing himself
on or around the time that he expired.
This new service, you have its name?
Nothing came up under the name Genuine Models, offline or on.
I guess the rich and powerful don't scratch this type of itch
from the back pages of alternative weeklies
or track able search engines.
I'm sorry, but is this something we're actually going to investigate?
Reddington wanting us to protect the interests of a madam that he consorts with?
We'll look into it.
If it turns out to be a Reddington goose chase,
we'll pass it off to Metro PD.
Let's bring Madame Carrellas in and look under the hood
of the ambassador's murder.
As for Genuine Models, keep digging.
I'm not good. I am great.
Sorry to say, but that's a fact.
One which I sincerely hope you're about to demonstrate.
Bartender spikes your drink, you go sideways, wake up,
and are framed for killing your wife's lover.
Work upstream to the bartender, he gets whacked.
Woman friend of said bartender goes AWOL.
All leads DOA until...
they are not.
- You found the friend? - I did.
Now, let's hold off on the applause
and make sure that we get to her
before the pathologically persistent Detective Heber.
Where exactly is she?
In a dive bar in Atlanta's Old Fourth Ward.
Her ex-girlfriend owns the joint.
She used to tend bar there until they broke up and she moved up to DC.
I hesitate to bring another innocent person into this mess.
This woman was already at risk.
She could be the piece of the puzzle
that gets you off the hook for Doug Koster's killing.
What was so urgent I needed to be pulled from my Pilates session?
As you know, being limber is a job requirement.
I didn't, actually, but, uh, now that you mention it,
- I can imagine... - Yes, I'm sure you can.
Ambassador Warren.
- Dan was a good friend. - And a client.
He was a client and a good friend.
I introduced him to his wife.
Hmm, well, I'm sure she's eternally grateful.
Not all relationships are as conventional as you might assume,
- Agent... - Ressler.
Well, Agent Ressler.
You can pin me down anytime.
We're looking into the connection between the ambassador's death
and an escort service called Genuine Models.
We need to know anything that you can share about them.
None of my girls have been headhunted by Genuine.
Which is odd, and I can't trace a single contact,
not a name, address, nothing about Genuine Models.
Whoever's behind it is deep underground.
These men.
These awful, terrible men,
sucking everything around them dry.
They use, and they abuse,
acting like the world is their personal playground.
Don't be sad, dear one.
These men, they might be used to getting what they want.
But now, thanks to us,
they're finally going to get what they deserve.
Usually when these new escort services pop up,
some of my girls leave to work for them.
Then a few months later, they come running back
because nobody treats them better than Mama Carrellas.
You think Genuine Models is offering something
standard escort services do not?
I don't know.
But a second client just told me he's moving on.
I worry it's to Genuine Models
since he was originally introduced to me by the ambassador.
What's his name?
We can't ensure your client's not in danger
unless we know who he is.
Congressman Spate.
Matt Spate.
Listen, you just give me a call
when you're ready for a proper insurance policy for you
and that bungee-jumping wife of yours.
Steve Ho man, rhymes with showman.
Will do, Steve.
You know, in my line of work as a divorce attorney,
what you call insurance, we call a prenup.
Fancy seeing you here.
Steve Homan, is it?
Cassandra!
Looking lovely as ever.
Oh, you're not so bad yourself, Raymond.
Mm. Cassandra, this is Weecha Xiu.
Weecha, an old friend, Cassandra Bianchi.
Uh, well, hopefully not that old.
It's so sad about Barney.
He was such a good man.
With the rarest of qualities...
complete, unfettered honesty.
There was no guile about Barney.
And in our business, that can be a problem.
And what business is that?
Um, I take things that aren't mine.
Some years back, I persuaded Mr. Ho man the Showman
to rob a Middle Eastern arms dealer with me.
Among the items we boosted was this invaluable necklace
the arms dealer was going to give his wife
for her birthday.
The only person in the world
we trusted to fence it was Barney.
But before he could find a buyer,
the item was stolen from the safe
at Barney's collectibles store.
It was never found.
Was it a ruby necklace?
Yes, the largest ruby ever unearthed in Myanmar.
How could you possibly know that?
Because I'm looking right at it.
I'm sorry, I don't think that we've met.
I'm Matilda. I'm Barney's wife... widow.
I hate saying that.
I'm Steven Homan, an old friend of your husband's.
I'm very sorry for your loss.
Barney was a dear man.
Lillian Alexander.
We both adored Barney so much.
How did you know my sweet Barney?
Collectibles.
Acquiring, trading, selling valuable items.
It's a tricky business,
and your husband was a prince among thieves.
Matilda, I can't help but ask about your necklace.
It's possibly the most stunning piece of jewelry
I've ever seen.
Oh, yes.
Thank you, this is my most valued possession.
It was a gift from Barney for our anniversary.
I love that I can carry this piece of him over my heart.
Oh, I'm sorry, um, will you excuse me?
Apparently Barney used me to do his dirty work for him.
What do you mean?
Barney told me it was Peter Finchy who stole the necklace.
Barney's business partner? He went missing around that time, no?
After the necklace was stolen,
Barney told me he discovered some
secret storage locker that Peter had been hiding
from him for years, a locker that contained
several of the items that had been taken
when the store was robbed.
And Peter Finchy didn't just disappear.
I banished him to Nunavut.
So Peter didn't betray Barney.
It was the other way around.
And with Peter Finchy out of the picture,
Barney had the business and all the spoils.
Including our necklace.
I need a stiffer drink.
I'm gonna go out on a limb
and guess we arrived a little too late.
I don't know where the Incredible Hulk's
been hanging out, but you guys might want to check his alibi.
Whoever strangled the congressman did so with unusual force.
With all that force, it's got to leave some DNA behind.
You'd think so, but so far, I haven't been able
to collect any sweat or skin cells from his neck.
Look at this.
The handprint and bruising patterns are strangely uniform.
You'd expect it to be more haphazard with the struggle.
Maybe he didn't have time to fight.
Doesn't seem to be any surveillance on the property.
That's not gonna help us find the killer.
Maybe this will.
Well, if we can get a DNA hit off that hair,
we'll find our murderer.
I know you're having second thoughts.
Of course you are.
You have empathy, you're a good person.
It's one of the many reasons that I love you.
But I promise,
even if it feels wrong now,
we're doing the right thing.
You believe in me, right?
In us.
I will always believe in you.
Ms. Grant.
We just need some information on your bartender friend
who was murdered in DC, Abel Judge.
I don't know what you're referring to.
I think you do.
You blew town awful quick the morning after Abel was killed.
I can't have anything to do with this.
Please, just leave me alone.
I'm afraid that we can't do that.
Okay.
Yes.
I left town right after Abel was killed.
Did you know Abel spiked a customer's drink
a few nights before he was killed?
No, I told you all I have for you.
I'm sorry, I have to get back to work.
Ms. Grant, please. Please, Ms Grant.
The man who's drink Abel spiked is being framed
for something he didn't do.
Now, if there's anything that you know,
if you can find it in your heart to tell us,
then you'd not only help to get justice for your friend,
but also for this man whose life is hanging in the balance.
Here's my number. Call it any time, day or night.
Cassandra.
You're leaving?
Barney's dead. I've been played.
And the widow is wearing $3 million worth of rubies that belong to us.
None of this is her fault.
Matilda loved Barney and treasures the necklace he gave her.
Taking it would only add insult to injury.
Look at you rising above.
Hmm.
I find that annoyingly winsome.
- Hmm. - Fine, we can leave it be.
Can we at least commiserate over dinner?
I doubt I would be much of a conversationalist.
Who said we had to talk?
Or eat?
Cassandra, I'm involved.
Or trying to be.
Wow, screwed by two men in the same day
with none of the fun part.
Definitely time to go home.
Okay, so Ambassador Warren's financials are clean,
ditto Congressman Spate, but check this out.
Both of them wired $250,000 to a company called
Smith Proven�al Antiques the day before they were both killed.
I doubt they're buying 19th century armoires.
Maybe it's a front for Genuine Models.
We got a hit on the strands of hair found in Matt Spate's hand.
A Darlene Wozniak of Arlington, Virginia.
She's a nurse at County.
A nurse that moonlights as a serial killing prostitute?
How in the world do you make sense of that?
By bringing her in and questioning her. Come on, let's go.
- Steven! Come in! - Thank you, Matilda.
How lovely to see you again.
I was on my way to the airport and realized
I couldn't leave without offering a final condolence.
Chicken pot pie.
One can never have enough food on hand in times of grief.
You know, I just put some coffee on.
Do you have time for a cup before your flight?
I always have time for a cup.
Good.
You know, I got to say, I'm taken by how
loyal Barney's friends are.
- Friends? - Yeah.
Lillian stopped by on her way out of town, too.
You know, Barney used to say
that the world of collectibles is dog eat dog,
but you both have been so thoughtful.
Oh, here, sit down, relax.
Oh, I'll go get your coffee.
So much for rising above.
You're the one that thought I was winsome.
Annoyingly winsome.
Now I just find it and you annoying.
What happened to not adding insult to injury?
I recalculated.
My injury was far greater than her insult.
I do love you, Raymond,
but I think I'll have to hate you more.
My dear, you may have just
written my epitaph.
Ah.
Matilda, uh, smells delicious.
Could you point me to the powder room?
Yeah, third door down the hall.
I want you to know that whatever you say
is completely confidential.
So, tell us about Abel.
He was a good person.
He supported his sick mom and younger sister.
Every once in a while, he would deal drugs
to make a little extra cash.
One night, a guy came in and asked for some pills.
Abel met him out back, and
the guy turned out to be some kind of detective.
Detective?
Did Abel tell you, uh, his name or who he worked for?
No.
Only that the cop threatened to arrest him for dealing.
Unless he agreed to dose the man's drink?
He didn't see how he had a choice.
And the worst part is...
I'm the reason he was murdered.
What do you mean by that?
After he told me the whole story,
I was the one that convinced him to go to the police
and say what happened.
And the next day, he was dead.
It's not your fault.
How would you know that?
Because it's mine.
I'm the person whose drink he dosed.
I don't know why he was asked to,
but when I started asking questions,
Abel was killed.
That's on me, not you.
I'm scared. That's why I split.
Was there anything else that you could remember
that Abel told you about the detective,
like, you know, what he looked like or his age?
Nothing like that.
He did notice something about the guy's badge,
which sounds weird, but Abel had this eagle tattoo.
He had this thing for eagles, and the badge,
he said it was cool because it had two figures
and an eagle on it.
This is crazy.
Y'all must've made some kind of mistake.
The only mistake is you pretending not to know anything
about the murder of Congressman Spate.
Your hair was found in his hand.
Yeah, you keep telling me that,
and I keep telling you I never met the man.
Or any other politician.
What about Ambassador Warren?
What about him?
Two murdered men, strangled to death in their bed.
Is that what y'all think I do?
I-I choke out guys I have sex with?
I-I work the graveyard shift in the oncology wing.
I-I have not had sex in two years, and...
and that was with a diesel mechanic, not a congressman.
Tell us about Genuine Models.
You know, it's funny you should ask.
They called to see if I could do
a bikini shoot in Cancun, and I was gonna go,
but I had some bedpans I needed to empty.
Alright, listen, make light of it all you want,
but you say you weren't there, but your hair was.
How do you explain that?
I can't.
Oh, my God, wait.
My hair!
Alright, about a year ago,
I was getting behind on my rent and my friend Bonnie told me about
this wig company that pays for hair.
So I chopped off my ponytail, popped it in the mail,
and a few days later, a check came.
It was for 500 bucks.
The address you sent your hair to,
we're going to need it.
He had so many plans, you know?
Wanted to travel, learn how to fly.
He was so full of energy.
Oh, my gosh, Barney was full of so many things.
Generosity, for instance.
That necklace he gave you, what a breathtaking gift.
Hey, I wonder if it would be too much of an imposition
to see it one more time.
Beholding a piece that exquisite is a rare treat.
It is no imposition at all,
but I don't want you to miss your plane.
Oh, I'm not worried about my plane.
Well, I should be off.
Nonsense, Matilda's just about to show us
that magnificent necklace Barney gave her.
- Is she? - I'll be right back.
Fine, 50/50.
70/30, or I tell dear Matilda
that her precious pendant is in your handbag.
Does this other woman you want to be involved with
- know what a scoundrel you are? - She does.
No doubt you're trying to convince her you can reform?
Poor woman.
60/40.
55/45.
I can't reform that much.
My necklace, it's... it's gone!
Fine.
I'm sure it's here somewhere, Matilda.
We'll help you look.
You start in the bedrooms and the bathrooms
and we'll search out here.
No stone left unturned.
Okay.
I need to take this.
Alright, I'll circle back around once I get
Ms. Grant safely situated.
Agent Park, where are we?
Wozniak wasn't involved.
The hair that was found, she'd sold it.
We got the address where the hair was sent.
Dembe and I are headed there now.
Excellent. Anything else?
A wire to Smith Antiques was just flagged.
Another $250,000 from a Billy Burton,
a well-known restaurateur in Philadelphia.
We know where this leads.
Aram, Park, get there now.
Well, well, Harold Cooper.
- Detective Heber. - Beverly Grant.
I'm not gonna find her, am I?
I'd recommend the nachos. Delicious.
Doug Koster dies,
and the bartender who served you drinks
on the night of his murder, he also dies.
And his friend, the only one who may know why he died,
you get to her before I do.
On the other hand, the disco fries,
pretty irresistible.
Two counts of murder.
Now witness tampering.
I thought you looked like the prime suspect.
I never thought you'd be stupid enough to act like one.
Mr. Burton, FBI!
Mr. Burton?
Mr. Burton, it's the FBI.
No, wait!
No!
Hands up, now!
Uh, Agent Park?
You got her?
Uh, no, but, um...
I got it.
Of all the ridiculous capers
we've gotten into, this is approaching the most ridiculous.
Pretending to look for a necklace we're stealing?
We can't be stealing if it belongs to us.
What we can do is help a grieving widow feel
as if she's not completely alone in the world.
And after we finish pretending to find
dear Barney's gift, then what?
Pretending?
How long has she been there?
Long enough.
Look, I may be old, but I'm not stupid.
I know that I put that necklace in the safe,
and then you two show up, and you're just sweet as can be.
I want it back now, or... or I'll call the police.
You don't want to do that.
Why not?
Because then we'd have to tell the police the truth
about your beloved Barney.
What truth?
May I help you?
Agents Ressler and Zuma, FBI.
What took you so long?
You were expecting us?
Yes, I called the authorities hours ago. Isn't that why you're here?
We were looking for a wig manufacturer.
Well, we don't make wigs, but we do use human hair
on the robot companions we create here.
Companions?
Oh, you mean sex robots who kill the people who use them.
You must mean Chrissy.
Who the hell is Chrissy?
Chrissy is one of Genuine's most popular models.
So you knew your robots were killing your customers.
That's why you called the police.
What? No, no, I didn't know.
And are we sure that that's even the case?
I only called the police because after I read that Ambassador Warren was dead,
I honestly didn't think much of it,
besides that it was a terrible tragedy, of course.
But I certainly didn't connect the dots back to us.
Then I read that Congressman Spate was also found dead in his home.
Well, I couldn't help make the connection
that they both recently purchased a Chrissy model.
And of course, we've suspended sales of the Chrissy model
until we can figure out what might be going wrong, if anything.
Oh, something's going wrong, alright.
Our colleagues just intercepted another
murder in progress in Philadelphia.
What? Oh, my God.
Oh, Billy Burton.
Um, he just purchased a Chrissy model last month.
- Is he okay? - He's fine.
A little bruised.
What's turning Chrissy murderous?
We're not sure. I-I've been going over the code
trying to figure out what might have gone wrong.
I still find it highly unlikely that these
precisely tuned machines have malfunctioned in any way.
It... It's really quite difficult to teach a robot
what is too much force to use with a human,
whether that's for physical therapy,
playing games, or for sexual intimacy.
So you're knowingly selling potentially lethal
robot escorts?
No, nothing like this has ever happened before.
Not in beta testing.
Not since we sold our very first model.
And they're not escorts.
These are uncommonly sophisticated,
quality of life enhancing, A.I.-based companion robots.
Who have sex with your customers.
In some cases, yes.
Look, everything we do in life
intersects with the inanimate.
For years, technology's been anticipating
what we want and providing it.
Not to mention real women can get pregnant,
they can blackmail you, sue you.
You can fall in love with them
and be tempted to blow up your life.
All these messes that robots can't and won't make.
What you call messes, most people call life.
We're gonna need a complete list of your customers.
Starting with everybody who purchased
a Chrissy model from you.
Okay.
I don't believe it.
I-I can't believe that Barney could be a...
what did you call that, a rail or...
A fence. A trafficker in stolen goods,
some of which we stole, including the necklace.
Which he was supposed to sell for us,
then give us the proceeds, less his 10%.
So you don't sell insurance?
He's as much an insurance agent as I am.
So who are you?
Someone who doesn't like to be cheated or lied to
or tricked into disappearing innocent people,
then destroying their lives and livelihoods
based on spurious accusations.
Like Barney's business partner.
I don't recall Barney having a business partner.
Oh, but he did.
He's who Barney blamed the theft of the necklace on.
Then convinced me to disappear the poor soul
as comeuppance, which I did happily.
I had no reason to think Barney would lie to me.
He never had before.
Oh.
I just can't believe that my sweet Barney would...
would lie to you about such a thing,
or to me about everything.
Our entire lives, not to mention manipulating you
into ruining the life of that poor Peter guy.
There, there, I'm certain
Barney didn't lie about his love for you.
Can we go?
Matilda, seeing as how our dispute was with Barney,
not you, I'm prepared to leave you the necklace.
I believe we've done enough damage for one day.
What? You sure?
Oh, I'm sure.
Wear it well.
Re-marry.
Assume the worst, hope for the best.
I have never seen anything quite like the complexity
of these robots.
Real human hair, the feel of human skin,
insane expressive abilities. Check this out.
Wow.
Right?
Sir, oh, uh, did everything go...
go okay with your... the matter you were looking into?
Everything went.
Whether it went okay or not remains to be seen.
This is a glimpse into the future
- I'm not sure I want to see. - Tell me about it.
The thing's more communicative than I am,
which isn't saying much, but still.
Hang on.
Like looking in a mirror.
Mirroring facial expressions is one thing, but murder's another.
Who's programming her to do that?
Not Genuine Models.
This is Maverick Sawyer,
the CEO and man who built the robots.
- Whoa. - He's agreed to aid in our investigation.
It's the least I can do.
There has to be some reason that I'm missing
why these models are malfunctioning.
They're not malfunctioning.
They're doing exactly what they're being told to do.
She's been hacked.
What?!
No. No, no, no.
No, that's not possible. Who's behind it?
Well, I don't know the who, but I am working on the where.
Our robots run on a completely secure operating system
and learn from what a user says, processed through the microphone in the nose.
There's no way that a hacker could get into that system.
Do you push updates to the OS over the Internet?
Yes.
That's how they got in and started overriding commands
for these specific Chrissy robots.
So, there must be an associated IP address.
Oh, yeah, and I almost got it. Hang on.
Here we go.
Boom, it's an IP located at 2218 Ridgewood Drive
in Bowie, Maryland. Good work.
Dembe, Ressler, roll out.
Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.
Did you say a microphone?
Yes, in each unit's nose.
Shh, shh, shh. I think it's still listening.
They know.
FBI!
What in the fun house hell is going on here?
Whatever it is, they left in a hurry.
Don't worry, angel.
I won't let anything happen to you.
Imagine my delight when you summoned me after
so many years in Nunavut.
One more bowl of caribou stew,
and I'd be growing antlers.
Yes. Yes, about that.
I'd like to apologize, Peter.
It seems I was sorely mistaken.
Barney told me to cut you off at the knees
and make sure you never made another penny in the business.
Imagine that from Barney.
But clearly, Barney wasn't being entirely honest with me,
and I did something I rarely do.
I jumped to conclusions.
But something's not sitting right.
I simply cannot accept that my instincts about Barney
are as wrong as all that.
What am I missing?
Your instincts are spot on, Mr. Reddington.
Barney was decent.
Salt of the earth.
His wife, on the other hand...
Gordon Graham. Here he is.
That's right.
Graham was one of our earliest customers.
He's in the tech industry, too, if I'm remembering correctly.
He was the CEO of an electoral data start-up
that he sold for million and millions of dollars about a year ago, February.
He totally disappeared from the tech scene after that.
That's about two months after he purchased this Chrissy model.
Agents Ressler and Zuma said it looked like Graham
was living with his Chrissy robot as if they were a real couple.
Two toothbrushes, clothes for her, jewelry, the whole nine. Bizarre.
Maybe not so bizarre.
We design our robots to be anthropomorphic
with human-like capabilities and empathetic skills,
which can induce feelings in customers.
Gordon might actually believe that he and Chrissy are in a real relationship.
And now, with these aesthetics
and the rate of AI advancements,
people won't be able to tell the difference
between what is real and what is not.
Great, a whole world of robosexuals awaits.
Meantime, we've got a murderer on the run.
Is he on the move with Chrissy?
It appears so.
I installed geo-tracking units in all of our models
as a safeguard for our customers in the event
that robots are stolen.
Now, if Gordon hasn't removed it, we may be in luck.
I installed the, uh, the geo-tracking unit
in each of the models' ring fingers.
Everything's gonna be okay, my love.
Your man's got a plan.
Got him.
Okay, guys, it looks like he's on Route 211 headed south
towards Shenandoah National Park.
We're headed there now.
We've notified local law enforcement
to help you apprehend Graham.
You're about two miles behind him.
Exit the vehicle with your hands visible!
No other options, Graham.
You'll never tear us apart!
Why are you pointing your weapons at me?!
I am not the criminal here!
They are! The monsters!
Put your hands where we can see them and step out of the car.
Neglecting and abusing my Chrissy!
Locking her in a closet and taking her out only
when they want to defile her, like she's some object!
They had to be stopped.
And so did Genuine Models.
We don't want to hurt you, Graham, or Chrissy.
They did hurt her!
And that's why I had to protect her.
That's why she did what she did.
We want to help you, Graham.
We need to see your hands.
Step out of the car and we can talk this over, okay?
I don't believe you.
You'll separate us. I know you will.
I can't live without my Chrissy!
She can't live without me.
Matilda, good evening. We'll just be a minute.
Brava, brava! What a performance.
What are you talking about?
I just had an illuminating chat
with your old pal Peter Finchy.
Peter who?
Poor Peter, whose name you let slip earlier
after pretending you didn't know
Barney had a business partner.
Poor Peter, whose exile you orchestrated,
thus killing two birds with one giant, priceless stone.
I never uttered the name Peter,
and yet somehow, you knew it.
By the way, when did you decide to leave Barney?
You hired a divorce lawyer, didn't you?
The one at the memorial service?
But you, greedy little guts, decided in the end
it was too rich a price to pay
to split the marital estate.
It was much more lucrative, not to mention simpler,
to just get rid of Barney altogether.
Barney had a heart attack at dinner.
After some gentle persuasion, the medical examiner's
performing a last-minute autopsy.
We'll see if that theory holds up when
the toxicology tells us exactly what you made
Barney for dinner.
I think you're looking at a potential life sentence.
That's my theory.
My life sentence was being married to that chump.
Barney never had the stomach for the business.
It fell on me
to manage from behind the scenes, and I did.
I made the shrewd calls. I made the hard choices.
And then the little shmuck thought that
he could divorce me.
After all those years of me showing him what's what.
Yes, of course.
The divorce attorney was Barney's.
You should've seen the look on his face
when he realized that I had poisoned him.
No, you two never knew the real Barney,
and he never knew the real me.
I believe we did know the real Barney.
And in honor of his memory, I tell you this.
You're terminated.
And poor Peter Finchy is the new boss.
And this time,
it is you who will be banished,
left to fend for yourself with no resources,
no respite, and no retreat.
And if I find out you so much as stick a single toe
back in the business,
I will come to you
and I will take your tongue,
I'll take your hands,
and I'll take your feet.
But for now,
I'll just be taking this.
Sawyer helped us locate the two Chrissy models
Graham hacked to kill Ambassador Warren and Congressman Spate.
It looks like he programmed the robots
to leave the crime scenes and return to him
so he could take them out of circulation permanently.
Well, Sawyer's company might be going away,
but the technology isn't.
It's now in the cultural bloodstream.
Robots, and the people who want them for,
well, everything, are probably with us forever.
Any next of kin on Gordon Graham?
We haven't been able to track down any family.
No friends. His only relationship, it seems, was Chrissy the robot.
I think he really believed that he loved her.
I think he did love her.
Well, he's not the first person to fall for somebody
who's incapable of returning the favor.
I'm not talking from personal experience.
I just... I watch a lot of '80s teen coming-of-age movies.
What's the latest on Everly Grant?
She's secured with her family in Texas.
I have a detail on them, but, uh, Harold,
you and I both know that that badge she described
is the New York police detective's.
This is getting out of control.
Maybe we should call in reinforcements.
We're not calling anybody, Lew.
After you left the bar with Grant,
I had a little run-in with Detective Heber,
who knows that I got to her.
We have no idea how deep this goes.
I'm even more of a prime suspect now that
Heber knows that I am talking with witnesses.
We have to find this detective ourselves.
Who did you piss off in law enforcement, Coop?
You've gone soft, Raymond.
The old you would've meted out the delicious punishment
that hateful old crone deserved on the spot.
No regrets.
You really have changed.
You think?
We're always good together.
You know, that's why I've missed you,
because we were good together,
especially when we were bad together.
Maybe there's more fun to be had.
You and me.
As tempting as that sounds,
you should know that the man you once knew
died the day Elizabeth Keen was shot.
And the man that remains is...
less a person than a collection of impulses and inclinations,
most of them foul as tar.
I only survived
thanks to the love and solace
of a woman I met under the most unlikely of circumstances,
a woman who...
carried me through an unbelievable darkness.
And you really think that she'll have you, this woman?
All of you?
I...
I hope so.
But even if she won't, at this moment,
I'm hers, and that's all that matters.
Yeah.
I think you should take this.
Why do I feel like this is a parting gift, hmm?
Like I may never see you again?
You never know.
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