So let's do this, Virginia! Let's get out the vote!
Because believe me, I am just gettin' started!
Yes, sir!
Thank you!
One o'clock. Black jacket. I'm gonna check him out.
- Copy that. - Ladies and gentlemen, Thank you so much.
Thank you for coming.
Turn out your pockets for me.
Senator Panabaker.
You've been campaigning on fiscal responsibility,
but you voted this week to increase
military spending by $90 billion.
I don't see the contradiction.
We need a strong national defense,
but we also need to make sure that money's spent responsibly.
What we can't have are things like my opponent
securing no-bid contracts for his employers.
That kind of sweetheart dealing hurts our troops
- and our taxpayers. - But Senator...
I'm sorry. I have another event today.
That's all for now. Thank you so much!
Thank you for coming! Thank you!
My, my, my! Aren't you a walking Hatch Act violation.
Just a regular civilian, out here to support an old friend.
Oh, I love the sentiment. I hate the "old" part.
- Let's just call it friends and leave it at that. - Gun!
He's got a gun!
Ma'am, are you okay? Have you been hit?
I'm... I'm disarmed. I've been disarmed.
My gun's gone, too.
Do you have eyes on the...
You're bleeding.
Yeah, it... It's not mine.
Shots fired. Agent down. Requesting backup.
Repeat, shots fired. Do you copy?
My God. Harold.
What the hell just happened?
CREDITS
_
- _ - It's this way.
These were once an oasis for the wretched masses,
a respite from their squalid tenements,
where plumbing was a pipe dream
and people were kicking their filthy buckets
in great numbers.
Of course, it took an angry public outcry
and several cholera epidemics
to convince the City Fathers
that their citizens needed somewhere
clean and wet
to relax with a bar of soap.
Fascinating, but I can't keep doing
this back-and-forth to New York from DC.
It's a terrible waste of time.
You didn't really fly me up here to tour an old bathhouse?
- Well, no. I... - Wait a minute.
Are you actually living here?
This place looks like it should be condemned!
I don't think so. It has great pipes.
And now that the steam room's up and running, the...
Only a side project, Harold.
I summoned you up here for more pressing business.
Is it Wujing? Has he made some new alliance?
Plans on that front are still in the planning stages.
Please.
But no. I want to discuss
the tribulations of our dear Senator.
What a harrowing experience for you both.
It was a matter of inches.
A few to the left, and a Secret Service agent
would have been killed.
A few to the right, and Cynthia.
And that's not the only quandary keeping you up at night.
How to explain the stolen radios,
the disappearing guns?
It makes no sense.
We're talking about the most highly trained,
dependable security in the country.
And yet someone brought them to their knees.
I'm afraid you won't like the answer.
Pickpockets.
I'm sorry, but common thieves
did not disarm the Secret Service.
I'm not referring to a gang of delinquents, Harold.
These particular pickpockets aren't scavengers.
They're apex predators.
One o'clock. Black jacket.
- I'm gonna check him out. - Copy that.
They study their prey to determine
what action will provoke the desired reaction.
We love you, Cynthia!
- Hey! Watch it! - Ma'am. Ma'am, step back.
And once their diversion
has you exactly where they want you,
they sink their teeth in so fast,
you never see them strike.
A highly coordinated ambush,
the entire pack moving as one.
Then they're gone.
Before you even knew they were there.
They call themselves the Four Guns.
Guns? So they are hitmen.
No. As I said, they pick pockets.
It would be beneath their dignity to threaten violence,
and they'd certainly never use a weapon.
- So what's with the name? - The Four Guns.
Gun as in gonif, the Yiddish word for "thief."
But if they're not killers,
then why did they take a shot at Panabaker?
I don't think they did.
Someone else was there yesterday,
someone with a motive,
who knew the pickpockets' skill set
and how to use it to make Panabaker vulnerable.
And whoever that someone is, they're going to try again.
How do we stop them?
Well, in this case,
it's going to take a thief to catch an assassin.
Reddington has connected our gang of pickpockets
to several high-yield thefts, mostly covert jobs.
Driftstream Industries. A major energy conglomerate.
They lifted a two-factor authentication key
off their CTO, took control of their system,
and threatened to cut off fuel
to half the power plants in Texas,
fleecing the company for millions.
Sometimes their work gets more notice.
Oh, my God! Prince Erik! I remember that.
They practically stole the crown right off his head, poor idiot.
I'm sorry, but why are we looking for them
when we should be focused on finding a killer?
I mean, Panabaker's life is on the line here.
And the Bureau is conducting an extensive manhunt
for her would-be assassin, but Reddington is confident
these pickpockets aided in the attack.
That means finding them will lead us to the shooter.
So how do we find them?
Start with the scene of the crime.
You and Agent Zuma coordinate with our Evidence Response Team.
Agent Ressler, you should meet
with the Senator's security detail,
but I want to check in on her first,
make sure she's holding up okay.
Agent Ives won't be grabbing pickle jars
off any high shelves for a while,
but I'm praying for him, and I just want to get back
to what I was sent to DC to do.
Great answer, Senator. But I was there, remember?
What do you wanna hear?
That I'm terrified?
That my opponent's whipped his base into such a frenzy
that someone actually tried to kill me?
I've read your security file.
I know why you were assigned a Secret Service detail.
One of those men almost died for me.
Do you know what it's like to ask a stranger to make that kind of sacrifice?
Well, I'm no stranger,
but you put it all on the line for me last year.
You kept me out of prison.
I want to repay my debt to you.
Has the cheese slid all the way off your cracker?
There's a reason I put it on the line,
and it wasn't Christian charity. Reddington blackmailed me.
You said that was all forgotten.
Forgotten. But not forgiven.
I never want to be under that man's thumb again.
Or anyone else on his team.
Look. I'm not here to defend Reddington.
I can only focus on the future
and making sure that you're still in it.
Cynthia... Please.
What do you need from me?
Boss asked me to come here today,
- but I don't have a lot of time. - Of course.
I just wanna say, I've been where you are.
My partner, she...
Anyway, I hope you're getting the, support you need.
Yeah, I'll wait to deal with that once you find the man responsible.
You said you never saw his face.
You didn't try to pursue him.
My primary directive is to protect the Senator.
If there were other agents there, maybe,
but I would never abandon my post to chase an assailant.
The shooter had to pass through a metal detector
to enter the barricades, right?
Where'd the gun come from?
He shot Agent Ives with his own service weapon.
You didn't see him or even realize
that you'd been disarmed until much later.
I don't know how he did it.
What if I told you that he had help?
The passcode.
How'd you get it?
Patience and the right vantage point.
Who looks over their shoulder before they type in their code?
So that's it. We did what you told us.
We don't want any further part in... in...
whatever this is.
Do you know what it means to be a patriot?
The tree of liberty
must be refreshed with the blood of patriots.
I will not stop the bleeding...
until liberty is restored.
Senator, please, just hear me out.
Why press the flesh for two hours when you can spend five minutes
with someone who can actually bankroll your campaign?
Wait a minute. Wait a minute.
I need you to hush for a second.
Shelly, stop taking notes.
Yes, ma'am.
Actually, can you step out for a minute, please?
Of course, Senator.
Thank you!
Is that door shut?
Yeah. What's wrong?
Jonathan, what I'm about to say is not to leave this room.
Well, this is interesting.
Heavenly Spheres. The first text to suggest
Earth is not the center of the universe.
A humbling reminder to us all.
Reading this was forbidden by Sacred Decree.
They only printed 400 copies,
so a first edition like yours...
I'm prepared to offer you 1.2.
I'm not selling.
I want to make a trade for something.
We have a beautiful Audubon.
Something from your private collection.
Private?
I'm sure I don't know what you mean.
Oh, but I'm sure you do.
I recognized your book immediately.
It was reported stolen from the Polish Academy of Sciences.
And two minutes ago, you wanted to buy it from me
for a million-two.
Shall we dispense with the sanctimony?
Ah.
Their shimmer comes from an industrial byproduct...
arsenic.
The Victorians were mad for it.
Put it in wallpaper, linen, lingerie.
And when they went truly mad from toxic exposure,
doctors thought it was hysteria, "witch fever."
We know better now.
Which is why these books have been removed
from most other private collections.
And if one were to remove the slipcover?
Time has increased their potency.
As the binding deteriorates and flakes off,
the arsenic enters your lungs,
eventually causing total collapse.
I know exactly which one I want.
Are you prepared to own something so deadly?
Oh, it isn't for me. It's for a friend.
I didn't request anything.
Special delivery.
Courtesy of Raymond Reddington.
Oh, then I definitely don't want it.
Took a lot of juice to smuggle it in.
And I wouldn't refuse a gift from a man with that kind of reach.
Please.
I taught him everything he knows.
Which is half of what I know.
Believe me. He tries anything, I'll see it coming a mile away.
And what about me?
I'm supposed to make sure you take this.
Yeah.
He'll probably kill you.
"Dear Robert, as Dickens said, there are books of which
the backs and covers are by far the best parts."
"Raymond."
Cryptic bastard.
You gonna keep it?
Dickens also said, "Get hold of portable property,"
especially in a joint like this.
Evidence Response Team recovered the firearms
and the radios stolen from the Secret Service.
This is the gun that was used in the shooting?
Where'd they find it?
Dumped in a rubbish bin near the park.
Any CCTV cameras pointed at that trash bin?
Unfortunately, no.
Say what you will about mass surveillance in the UK,
we would've had you covered.
Reddington said the pickpockets don't wear gloves, right?
- It would hinder their dexterity. - Great.
So let's lift the prints off this stuff.
ERT tested the whole box.
All the prints are smudged.
Pickpockets must have wiped everything down before they tossed it.
All they got was half a thumbprint on this radio.
Doesn't match either agent or their families,
so it's almost certainly one of our suspects.
But it's only a partial.
There aren't enough points of comparison to make an ID.
I told you. It's a dead end.
There's no eyewitnesses,
no footage, no physical evidence.
You said something about a thumb.
I might be able to work with that.
Can't read it. It's not a full print.
Eh, my guy won't need a full print.
Your guy? Who's your guy?
Thank God you called.
I was on the verge. Seriously.
I can't remember the last adult conversation I've said.
Sue's a great listener.
I'm just so sick and tired of my own voice.
I always loved talking to Holly, but now most of the time,
we just end up talking about Sue.
Or pooping.
- Is she asleep? - Barely.
Um, one little fart, and she'll be up.
And she's definitely gonna fart.
Leave her to me. This shouldn't take long.
All right. Good.
'Cause Holly's got us on a pretty tight schedule.
What's the job?
I need you to identify half a smeared thumbprint.
All right, well, assuming
that the finger mark is not too degraded,
I probably will be able to get a few skin cells,
maybe even some sweat, and then I just extract the DNA.
Easy pease, lemon squeeze.
Man. I miss this.
Don't you just love the smell of sodium sulfate?
Is that just me?
Maybe it's time for you to get back out there.
Yeah, I wish.
Wait. Did Holly say something?
I applied to a new crime lab.
No luck. As usual.
What the hell.
Nobody at home yells at me when I ruin the prosecution's case.
I mean, Sue yells, but I usually can fix that
with a goofy face.
Well, let's see what you can find.
Who knows, maybe it'll be a fresh start.
Yeah, what do you say to that, Sue? Fresh start?
Ah, she just farted.
Thatagirl.
Hi, there.
Sweet tea. Tea.
And sweet tea with milk.
Oh. Drink up.
CODIS just matched the DNA we got from Reddington.
Quentin Dodd, a.k.a. the Hook,
a.k.a. the Mechanic, a.k.a. the Claw, a.k.a...
Okay, so his aliases are up to date,
but the rest of this stuff...
Last known address, 2011. Last arrest, 2009.
Guess the guy figured out how not to get caught.
He may have changed up his methods,
but what about his obsession?
What does that mean?
Look at what the cops found when they arrested him.
Patek Philippe. Cartier. Piaget.
Those are five-figure watches.
Even when he was pulling the bigger jobs,
7 times out of 10, there was a watch somewhere on that seizure list.
So the guy's got a weakness. How does that help us?
It may be a long shot, but imagine you're "the Claw."
You're cooling your heels in DC after a job,
bored, fingers start itching.
Where do you go to get your fix?
Somewhere with a lot of watches.
But he's not a heist guy.
He's not gonna make a run
on some million-dollar watch sitting in a safe.
What if he never makes it past the lobby?
Think of those people coming and going at those big watch auctions.
Collectors, ones who like to show it off
with a bit of flash on their wrist.
Jim!
Jim! Hastings!
What are you doing, man? How's it... Oh, my God.
- Do I know you? - No. I'm so sorry.
I thought you were someone else entirely.
I'm so sorry. That's my bad. Um...
Yeah.
Well, you wouldn't have wanted it anyway.
It's a fake.
Just for you, Mr. Dodd.
That was some pretty sloppy work leaving your print on that agent's radio.
Did you find that radio in a trash can?
No, 'cause I saw that radio in a trash can,
and as I was throwing out my soy latte,
I started to pick it up, but I didn't want to get involved.
Figured somebody threw it there, had their reasons.
Is that right?
You do understand this is an assassination attempt
on a U.S. Senator we're talking about?
Did you find my prints on the gun?
'Cause I bet not.
I mean, you may have some DNA from the trash,
but come on, FBI,
I follow the old rules...
I never smarten up a sucker, I never rat to the cops.
My hands are tied here on both counts, fellas.
What about the count of grand larceny in the third degree?
Or the second. Those were some pretty expensive watches you stole.
Ah, but to render that verdict,
the people, that's you,
must prove my intent
to deprive or appropriate as defined by Penal Law 155.05.
Did you see me depriving or appropriating?
Point of fact, did you find anything on me at all?
You were smart enough to stash the evidence
in case you were searched.
And we did catch you red-handed going for my watch.
Yeah, which you said yourself was a fake.
So if it costs less than 50 bucks,
it's a Class D bumped down to a Class A misdemeanor.
Hardly a federal offense.
I didn't even cross any state lines.
So, with my priors, that's a year in JCI?
And I already graduated from that venerable institute,
but I'm a big believer in continuing education.
A pickpocket? Harold, please!
- He's more than a pickpocket. - Oh, for Pete's sake.
I thought you'd have something to put me at ease
before my debate.
About that. I don't think it's a good idea.
In fact, I'd like you to consider suspending
all public appearances until we've had...
All appearances?
I am down 5% in the polls.
You trying to help Jerry Hayes walk off with my seat?
It could be worse. You could be dead.
I will be dead, politically, if I lose reelection.
Besides, I have faith in my team. Tell him, Will.
Director Cooper, I can assure you that every precaution
has been taken to secure the venue.
We vetted the staff, optimized exit routes,
and brought in an extra team.
I'm confident we can keep the Senator safe.
I appreciate that, but, Cynthia, if you insist on going,
then I insist on having one of my team there.
Agent Ressler, I want you to accompany the Senator this afternoon.
Of course.
We got a problem downstairs.
We caught the thief, just like you told us to,
- but he wouldn't give up the shooter. - Ah.
Apparently, he knows the penal code better than most.
We had to release him.
That's a shame.
Keep your chin up, Harold. There's always a way.
Mr. Dodd.
I understand that you can see into a man's pockets,
into a man's mind.
Why don't you focus that superior perception on me,
tell me what you see?
You got me kind of handicapped here.
But let's see.
Martin Greenfield suit. Brooklyn clothier. Nice.
Paul Stuart shoes.
You got wealth and taste, but you don't like to draw attention.
Although, that Rolex isn't hiding its light under a bushel.
Even a simple man has to check the time.
No car keys. You gotta go anywhere,
someone else does the driving.
Metro? You?
No one really looks at anyone on the subway.
That's a fair point.
No wallet or billfolds. Just cash in your right front.
Firearm behind. An extra mag in your right jacket.
A flip phone in your left. Now,
for your mind...
I'll tread softly.
I assume braver men have plumbed your depths and drowned.
The stuff you carry,
the way your smile never reaches those eyes...
it's just humor and darkness.
A life lived too long with little left to lose.
Except the life.
You missed something.
I didn't get a good look at your socks.
In my back pocket.
You missed all the people I keep there,
including a certain Senator you conspired to have killed.
Whoa! I had no idea it was gonna go down like that.
I don't know why I just told you that.
Guess I'll have to kill you now.
Please. I won't breathe a word.
Oh, but I'd like a word.
About the shooter who hired you.
I can't talk about that.
What do you think, Red? A belt to cut off the blood?
Bit rudimentary.
Still, very effective.
You see, Quentin,
I suspected that you might prove reticent,
and I thought an old-fashioned criminal
deserves an old-fashioned punishment.
You try to take from me, I take your hand.
My hand? You...
You wouldn't rob me of my livelihood.
Rob a thief. How ironic.
So, we got your bone nibblers...
your shaping mallet...
and this.
Ever smell bone dust?
The Gigli saw was invented 130 years ago,
but I still haven't found a cleaner way to sever a limb.
Okay. I'll talk. I'll talk.
Tell me about the assassin.
My crew and I were pulling a job, when this...
security guard ambushed us.
He had footage of us at work.
He kept going on about, the sanctity of the law
and how we had to pay for our transgressions.
He said something strange about a "higher calling."
He was lording this evidence over us,
so we had to go along with his crazy plan.
Now, I've met some weirdos in my line, but this guy?
He scared me.
Where can I find him?
FBI!
- Clear right. - He's not here.
What's with the flag?
A military signal for distress.
Is that President Diaz?
Why would an assassin take a picture with a former President?
A disgraced former President?
Check this out.
Whoever he is, we probably won't recognize him now.
pockets. Any metal...
Yeah. I always set these darn things off.
I got shrapnel lodged in my shoulder. Check my ID.
You're gonna have to wand me.
Landlord was a bust.
The office was rented with a fake ID, paid for in cash.
But... we sent our assassin's little photo collage
to the FACE Services Unit, and...
we got a hit.
Lucas Roth. He's ex-Secret Service?
23-year career.
White House detail under two presidents.
Oversaw transitions, inaugurations.
Recipient of the Award for Valor.
Sounds like a hero.
So, why isn't he with the Service anymore?
Retired at 49.
A year before he was eligible?
That's strange.
How do you know what the Secret Service retirement age is?
It's the same as the FBI's.
- You're not thinking of... - I'm already older than that,
but then again, I run a task force that doesn't exist.
Could this guy's retirement have something to do with Panabaker?
Maybe they crossed paths while she was still White House Counsel.
I'll reach out to Roth's former supervisor.
And I'll keep digging into his wormy little brain.
Just take a look at this handwriting.
Serial-killer vibes.
I'm so glad we could parlay our complicated first meeting
into a lucrative opportunity.
Are you saying I had a choice?
And how about the rest of your crew?
Us old-timers have a motto...
In with the gravy, in with the grief.
You want your share of the spoils,
you take your share of the trouble that comes along with it.
Though I hope there's gravy at the end of this.
With success, you'll have enough to fill a bathtub.
Eh, shouldn't be a problem.
We just need a few days to plan, maybe a week.
You have three hours.
I can't... I can't breathe!
While working families struggle
to put food on the table.
The Senator doesn't get it. She wants to go after...
I'm backstage. Sorry. It's hard to hear. What've you got?
The assassin's name is Lucas Roth.
He's former Secret Service. I just texted you some photos.
We need you to show them to Panabaker, see if she recognizes him.
I can ask the other agents, but Panabaker's gonna have to wait.
She's already on stage.
I consider it an honor having served as Senator
from the state of Virginia, but when he looks at this seat,
he sees dollar signs...
another opportunity to funnel contracts
to his buddies at Hutton-Crane.
Contracts mean jobs, good jobs for people in this state.
But if that's your concern, before I even announced my candidacy,
I resigned from Hutton's board and divested all of my...
Divested?
Come on, Jerry. They're your biggest contributors!
That's like a man telling his wife he stopped cheating
when he's still going to the clubs every night.
Your friends in the FBI investigated these allegations at the highest level.
They found nothing.
Talk about a waste of taxpayer dollars.
Now...
Stay calm...
Wait! Senator! Where are you taking her?
Code Gray. We're initiating lockdown.
- No, I need to stay with the Senator. - Not possible.
She's being taken to a designated extraction point.
We're almost there, Senator.
You need to get here. Roth might be on site.
They've evacuated everyone to a holding area.
- They're locking down the theater. - Wait a minute.
- If they're locking everything down... - Probably just following protocol.
But our assassin's ex-Secret Service,
so he knows the protocol.
This could be a setup.
Wait. Hey. Where's Panabaker?
Don't make a sound.
Turn around. Slowly.
Senator. It's an honor.
What do we know?
Panabaker's driver said she never made it to the car.
We've been monitoring the exits, and she's not in the holding area.
So they can still be inside.
Sir, I have the floor plans you asked for.
This is an old theater. A lot of the rooms aren't marked.
Then we'll have to split up.
Search systematically, room by room.
Lock the door, Will.
- How do you know my name? - Move.
We're in the basement. There's no sign of Panabaker.
Here's the weird thing... I'm not seeing her in these notebooks, either.
I've skimmed through like 20. Her name hasn't appeared once.
You'd think for someone obsessed with killing her...
Right, but I have found other names, like Will Strickland.
Wait. As in Special Agent Strickland?
Roth doesn't like him one bit.
Lucas. Holy...
I'd say nice to see you, but we both know that would be a lie.
Oh, my God. You shot Ives.
A necessary sacrifice.
Necessary sacrifice? You're insane!
I have never been more lucid.
Malik's saying that Roth worked with both Strickland and Ives.
So we've got an ex-Secret Service agent,
hates one co-worker, takes a shot at another.
But how does Panabaker fit in?
Put the gun down.
Senator.
You don't understand.
I understand if you don't put that gun down,
you're gonna get shot.
I am going to reach into my pocket.
It is just a phone.
There's something you need to hear.
We assumed Roth was gunning for Panabaker.
She's the public figure. It only makes sense.
But what if she was never the target?
What if it was the Secret Service all along?
Jonathan, what I'm about to say is not to leave this room.
The FBI's gonna indict Jerry Hayes for bribery.
They got a warrant to search his offices tomorrow afternoon.
Oh, my God.
There goes the election for him right there.
- Congratulations, Senator. - Don't celebrate yet.
I'm not even supposed to know. It's highly privileged.
Obviously, this conversation never happened.
- How the hell did you get that? - Ask him.
- He recorded it. - What? Senator, that is a lie!
You have been betrayed by the man you trusted to keep you safe.
Senator, he shot an agent!
He is holding you here at gunpoint!
My apologies if I made you afraid. I didn't see any other way.
Put down the gun.
No.
I won't do that.
He must face justice.
Senator!
Stand down, Will.
- Cynthia, did you... - What?
Did you think I was gonna wait around for you to rescue me?
I'm not exactly a shrinking violet.
Donald, I hope you've got a second pair of those.
You need to take Agent Strickland into custody, as well.
Are you kidding me? You can't believe this crazy man!
I'll explain it back at the office, Harold.
I need a drink.
Dr. Miller, dial 2-1-6. Dr. Miller, dial 2-1-6.
Excuse me, miss. How do I get to the maternity ward?
Can you believe it? I'm gonna be a grandfather!
73 years old...
and I still remember when my Jenny was born.
Cute as a button.
May the Lord smile upon you, my son.
Oh, Jesus.
I... I mean, I'm sorry, Father,
but if you're here... am I dying?
Nobody told me I was dying.
He who believeth in me shall never die.
Not today anyway.
Oh...
Hey! Stop right there!
Watch it!
I said stop!
Where the hell did they go?
Wh... A hearse?
I don't think I like the implication.
Just get in already.
Okay.
Robert!
Oh, no.
No, no, no. No, no way. I'm not getting in.
Come on, Robert.
You poisoned me with a book!
All part of the plan, Robert. All part of the plan.
- Get in the car. - I almost died!
Okay, so maybe there was a 15% chance,
20% at most.
Maybe 25%. But here you are!
So, get in, sit back, and relax. You're a free man!
- Robert. - All right.
When JFK was in Dallas, he didn't want motorcycles
flanking his limo or agents on the running boards.
It wouldn't have mattered in the end,
but the men on his detail still regretted giving in to him.
So why did they do it?
They liked him too much.
That's why we can't get close to the people that we protect.
If it's dangerous to like someone, what happens when you don't?
The man that I was assigned to, I truly loathed,
politically and personally,
but when I saw a gun pointed at him, I didn't hesitate.
I still got the bullet lodged right there.
You're an agent, too, so you know.
The job doesn't care how you feel,
if your wife left you, if your child is sick.
You took a sacred oath to protect democracy,
at all costs.
But Agent Strickland?
He tarnished the star.
You have no right to hold me here.
You recorded a Senator's private conversations.
I'd say I do.
Yeah, maybe I bumped my phone while she was talking.
Come on, Agent Strickland.
You shared those recordings with her opponent.
You were trying to swing the vote against her.
Well, if you know everything...
I don't know why. Why her?
Cynthia Panabaker is unfit to hold office.
According to who?
The voters in Virginia or just you?
He was assigned to protect her,
but he violated that sacred trust.
What about Agent Ives? The one you shot? Was he involved?
No.
I'm a trained marksman.
I knew exactly where to aim
to get Ives benched, but not seriously hurt.
I needed to be sure that Strickland was running point today.
Why the elaborate plot? Why not just report...
Report him to his superiors?
You think I didn't try?
The Agency is supposed to be above politics,
but in reality...
They call it "being made" when you get your first promotion.
It's just like the Mafia. Loyalty is king.
If someone on your team screws up...
you're expected to look the other way.
- So they buried it? - And they buried me.
But here's what you need to understand...
scandal means something different to us.
Appearing compromised
can endanger the country, the Presidency itself.
I knew they'd never risk it!
So that's why you made the attack so public, so they couldn't hide...
It all has to come out!
It's the only way to restore faith in the Service.
It may cost me my life...
but I took that oath a long time ago.
You caught me.
How embarrassing.
You've been through a lot.
I couldn't let fear slow me down.
Nobody'll vote for a candidate who's scared of her own shadow.
But I guess it got the best of me.
So, what happened?
You were recorded talking about your opponent?
Jerry kept getting these no-bid contracts.
They suspected he was bribing DoD officials,
but before they could execute the search warrant...
Your Secret Service detail leaked your conversation,
giving him time to cover his tracks.
And then he flipped the narrative,
making it look like I was behind some kind of witch hunt.
But the tables are turning again.
A traitor in the Service.
This'll be a massive investigation. Everyone involved will be exposed.
Ah. Yeah. Poor Jerry.
Having your name linked with an attempted assassin
like that is never a good look.
Have you seen tonight's news?
They're already calling you "Cynthia Six Shooter."
Well, that's enough to win me reelection right there.
I'll drink to that.
- No, no. You first. - You don't trust me?
You left me to rot in cinderblock hell!
You almost killed me!
And now what?
Am I your guest or am I your prisoner?
My guest, obviously.
The caviar I serve my prisoners is just fish eggs.
Oh, come on, Raymond. I know you.
You... You've got something up your sleeve.
Nothing. Not even a watch.
I knew he wouldn't be able to resist the temptation,
so I installed a tracking device.
Again with the watch?
You need to seek professional help.
What if he sells your Rolex?
Doesn't matter now.
I'm about to learn the location of his hideout,
should I require his services in the future.
You see? You always have an angle.
- And I'm the one who taught you that. - Okay, okay, fine.
So you do have a plan.
There. Surprise ruined.
- Happy now? - Yeah.
Oh, no. I'm not touching that.
Wait.
Is that Treasure Island?
Okay.
So that's why you busted me out.
There's no hidden message, Robert.
This is just a simple gift.
No, no, no. You gave me Oliver Twist
because it's about an old man teaching a young kid how to be a criminal.
Plus, they're pickpockets. Now, this...
Are we sure the arsenic didn't damage your brain?
It says "Treasure" right here in the title, Raymond!
Just a little? We should really get your head examined.
You are not coming near my head.
Oh, no.
CREDITS