03x15 - Drexel

[bunniefuu]

Previously on The Blacklist...

Cooper: Reddington's interest in this case. What does he get?

Red: It just keeps getting worse.

There's not going to be a shower.

Why not?

I'm giving my child up for adoption.

Why would you do that?

You and Tom agree on something.

He wants you to keep the baby?

Yeah.

You expect me to hire you.

I need the job.

Only two crews have targeted reinder-de groot.

Both were slaughtered.

By Geert Klerken. But that was years ago.

[ g*nshots ]

Let's go.

Thanks, boys.

[ Machine-g*n fire ]

[ Door opens, alarm beeping ]

Yeah, I'm just walking in now.

Hang on. I got to turn this thing off.

[ Beeping stops ]

Woman: Disarmed.

Not ready to arm.

Yeah, I know. It talks.

Man, I'm telling you, this new place is state of the art.

Yeah, I just got the last box out of storage, so as of tonight, we are officially moved in.

Dude, relax, okay?

We're better than fine.

We're growing faster than 90% of the tech start-ups in the country.

Yo, I got to go.

Don't worry so much, okay?

We worked hard to get here. Let's at least try to enjoy it.

♪♪
♪ the k*lling season, it's beginning ♪
♪ I feel your hands around my throat ♪

I agree.

It's so important to enjoy your work.

♪ you either lose or come up winning ♪
♪ now, paint it, Mary, paint it black ♪
♪ tonight, they hang Jerry ♪
♪ tonight, they hang Jack ♪
♪ when this k*lling season's over ♪
♪ I'll never say your name again ♪

Say "Cheese."

Dr. briggs: We're out of time.

He's going into hypervolemic shock.

Nik: What do we know?

White male, approximately 30 years old.

Two g*nsh*t wounds. One to the left upper extremity.

May have hit the brachial artery.

What the hell did he do?

Genius dug one of the b*ll*ts out himself.

Tom?

Tom?

You know this guy?

Not really.

Friend of a friend.

Yeah, well, your friend's friend is in a lot of trouble.

Paramedic who brought him in notified the police.

They're sending detectives to question him.

It's gonna be a short conversation if we don't hurry.

His pulse is dropping.

[ Thunder crashes ]

Liz: Where is he? Do you know?

He's not answering his cell.

I'm gonna take a sh*t in the dark and assume you mean Tom.

Did you hurt him?

Why would you think that?

'Cause the last time I spoke to him, he told me we'd be free.

Of you.

I am not your Tom problem, Lizzy.

Tom is your Tom problem.

[ Thunder crashes ]

I'm sure he'll turn up soon enough.

Why are we at an art exhibit?

Because Roberta Smith at the Times said it was worth a look.

And it seemed like a fitting spot to introduce our next adventure.

You're looking at a crime-scene photo.

It appeared online a few hours ago, along with a breaking-news bulletin about the m*rder of Randy Brenner at his new home in Richmond.

The local police are flummoxed.

It obviously wasn't your typical home invasion or burglary gone wrong.

It wasn't a crime of passion.

It is, in fact, to one somewhat disturbed individual, quite literally a work of art.

Those who know of his existence call him Drexel.

Considers himself a performance artist.

And like most performance artists, his work is a form of social commentary.

Most performance artists don't k*ll people in service of their work.

Last winter, he m*rder*d the owner of one of the largest CAFOs in Europe.

CAFO?

A Controlled Animal Feeding Operation.

Hung the owner up on a hook like the cattle they butcher.

A little heavy-handed. [ Laughs ]

Drexel does not employ subtlety to get his point across.

His work shows up in unexpected locations... sometimes only for a few hours.

This man has fans?

People support him?

Yes.

A small-but-rabid following.

Death as entertainment.

Drexel makes them feel part of something-- an underground protest movement.

And how do you know Drexel k*lled Randy Brenner?

Because he's advertising it.

According to Reddington, this photo started circulating two hours before Randy Brenner's body was discovered.

Which means the k*ller probably took the photo.

So how did Reddington get his hands on it?

It was published online in an underground zine called Rigby.

Apparently they post about all things underground.

Someone using the handle "Rimona" wrote an article promoting Drexel's next show.

Ressler: "Coming soon!

The next masterpiece is already under way."

So Randy Brenner's m*rder was one component in some kind of art exhibit?

And this Drexel-- nobody has any idea who he is?

Aram: Well, there are rumors online-- an art professor, a political journalist.

Some think he's an urban myth.

Reddington's looking for Rimona.

Apparently she's gonna have an exclusive interview with Drexel in next week's edition.

Fine.

In the meantime, get out to the crime scene before that body is removed.

[ Sighs ]

Something up?

Tom didn't show up for dinner last night, and he's not picking up his cell.

Probably just a misunderstanding. He'll turn up.

That's what Reddington says.

Look...

I know your decision to give up your child for adoption probably wasn't an easy one.

But given everything you and Tom have been through, I get it.

And I want you to know I'm here if you need anything.

Liz: Did you tell Cooper about the adoption?

You told me to cancel the baby shower.

I told everyone.

Samar, why would you...

Are you upset?

No, I just hadn't decided how I was gonna tell the others.

You feel guilty.

You shouldn't.

Society has every woman feeling like her primary role is to have a child.

It's not.

I don't want children.

I want a career.

Men can have both, but for women, it's like having two full-time jobs.

Liz, I'm...

I'm sorry that I overstepped.

I wasn't thinking.

But there's no shame in your decision.

[ Door opens, closes ]

Detective Quinn. Donald Ressler.

Thanks for holding down the fort.

You want to walk me through it?

[ Camera shutter clicks ]

Been stewing in his own juices for a while.

Would have had the body removed a while ago if you hadn't called.

Who found him?

Guy's name's Adelson-- Joseph P.

Business partner in some kind of start-up.

Said they had plans to work from here this morning.

ME?

Best guess on cause?

Someone snapped our vic's neck like a chicken last night around 10:00 PM, give or take.

That phone.

It was there when they found the body?

As far as I know, no one touched it.

What the hell is that?

You got a line on the k*ller, don't you?

That's why you guys are here. You know who did this.

Something like that.

♪♪

Very good, agent whoever you are.

Smile for the camera.

Look, I'm just saying, in the end, women want babies.

A lot of women give up their children for adoption.

Almost always under extraordinary circumstances, which I completely understand.

Is that a fact?

It's how women are wired.

Keen's gonna keep that kid.

Sorry for the wait.

Jon Adelson.

Thanks for seeing us so quickly.

We know you've had quite the morning.

Randy and I weren't just partners.

We were best friends since college.

What-- whatever I can do.

We understand that you spoke with Randy last night.

Yes. - Can you tell us what you talked about?

Work.

We started this company a year ago, and--

You guys are a financial-services company?

We provide our customers with one networked portal for all trading, financial news and commentary, research.

Competitive field.

Guess you guys built a better mousetrap, huh?

Huh. We'd like to think so.

The house Randy bought was expensive.

Business must be good.

What exactly are you looking for?

I mean, I spoke with one of the local detectives, and he seemed to think that Randy was k*lled by a burglar or...

With all due respect to the local police, we're not operating under that theory.

Because?

Ressler: Take your pick.

The scuff marks on the hardwood floor indicate a struggle, which means that after the m*rder, Randy was placed on that couch.

Not your average burglar move.

Someone wanted us to find him like that, just like someone wanted us to speak with you.

Now you lost me.

The k*ller staged the scene.

Brenner's phone was placed in his hands.

The k*ller knew that we'd trace his last call.

He wanted us to have this conversation.

Navabi: Do you have any idea why that might be, Mr. Adelson?

What do you think he hoped we'd discover?

Okay, look, I-I don't know what you think happened here.

You want our books, our clients, be my guest.

Randy was like a brother to me.

You get that?

Clearly, he's hiding something, but I don't think he has any idea who k*lled Brenner.

Seemed a little nervous.

Maybe he thinks he's next.

[ Cellphone rings ]

Aram.

Okay, the computer you sent me from Randy Brenner-- the webcam is definitely the source of the Rigby photo.

So Drexel accessed the webcam remotely.

Correct.

I just analyzed the hard drive and found a rat.

A rat?

Remote Access Trojan.

It takes over a system, accesses the webcam.

But the thing is, this is not your average rodent.

From what I can tell, it uses artificial intelligence to modify its payload, which is rare.

Like, super-rare.

In fact, I've seen this exact AI automation before-- once.

As part of a classified security briefing by the NSA.

So, how did a performance artist get his hands on classified NSA technology?

You know what? Call the Security Directorate.

Tell them we need to set up a meeting now.

♪♪

[ Speaking Japanese ]

Unfortunately, we don't open for another hour.

Right. Which is why we're here now.

We've come for the fugu kimo.

Fugu kimo?

Blowfish liver.

Contains a poison 1,200 times deadlier than cyanide-- so lethal, a single fish can k*ll 30 grown men.

People eat this?

Not legally, no.

But as with most dangerous endeavors, there are those who feel compelled.

Tetrodotoxin first creates a tingling in the lips, then the hands.

If you're lucky and your chef is meticulous, you can survive with a story and an adrenaline rush.

But if you're not, the poison can k*ll you in minutes.

This way, please.

What you are asking for, this is against the law to prepare.

Red: Ah, Chef Hanzo.

And yet I hear you prepare it so brilliantly.

[ Scoffs ] Who told you this?

My associate and I read about it.

You were featured in an online publication called Rigby.

A marvelous story.

Relax, Hanzo-san.

We're not here to cause trouble.

We just want a little information.

I'm trying to get in touch with the woman who interviewed you.

Rimona.

Perhaps you can find us a phone number.

[ Cellphone buzzes ]

Tom, is that you?

Liz, listen to me. You need to--

Nik?

It's-- Wow.

Hey.

Liz, listen to me.

It's about Tom.

Paramedics brought him in here a few hours ago.

He's been sh*t.

sh*t?!

Is he okay?

Where is he?

He's still in surgery.

He won't be out for another couple of hours.

But you need to know... the police are here.

And one of them told a nurse he was here to question a robbery suspect.

You still there?

Please tell me he's okay.

He's alive, but I can't honestly promise you he's gonna make it.

Oh, my God.

It's a simple question.

Is the program an NSA exploit or not?

Hey, look, technically I'm not authorized to comment on any program--

Cut the crap.

That program was found on a home computer.

Now it's connected to a homicide.

So I suggest you start commenting.

[ Breathes deeply ] Yeah.

It's ours.

And it's highly classified.

It's a mega rodent, a rat on steroids.

It-- it lets us take remote control of any system on a network.

Including stealth access to webcams?

Desktops, laptops, security feeds, hell, even baby monitors networked to Wi-Fi.

It's a premium-grade spy tool.

[ Sighs ]

If it's out there in the wild, we have a national security issue.

[ Keyboard clacking ]

Hey.

What? What's up?

I'm not sure.

I think it's about to be someone's last day.

Where are you going?

I just-- I got to hit the head.

Aaron Mulgrew.

♪♪

Aah!

[ Beep ]

[ Alarm beeping ]

Going somewhere?

[ Monitor beeping ]

[ Door opens ]

Nik: It's a miracle he survived the surgery.

Most of us didn't think he'd make it.

Will he?

It's too early to say.

We'll know more when he's conscious.

Like I said, he lost a lot of blood--

Whoa.

You're...

I didn't know.

And Tom's...

Obviously.

It's just... when I saw you last, it didn't seem like you were together.

It's complicated.

The detectives left a number.

We're supposed to let them know when he's awake.

Robbery? That's all you heard?

All I know is, it sounded serious.

You really have no idea what he was doing?

Nope. No idea.

All I know is that he had the delusion that we could be a family...

That we could get away from...

Reddington.

And you think that's impossible?

You have no idea what it's like...

To feel like you're trapped...

To feel like your life isn't your own anymore.

You can't prove I leaked that program.

I got to say, Aaron, you had a much better chance of us believing that before you ran like a scared little girl.

FBI and NSA techs are tearing apart every system you own.

We have teams at your house, your office, your storage locker.

What are they gonna find at your storage locker, Aaron?

All right, if I talk...

We talk to the US Attorney.

Maybe he skips the treason charge, sticks with espionage act violations.

See, there's a bigger picture here, Aaron.

That program you leaked-- it was found on a home computer at a m*rder scene.

Okay, I don't know anything about a m*rder, but... maybe I did upload the program.

To where?

I built a site for it. I posted the raw code.

But these things they make us develop, they are dangerous.

Do you know what that's like?

Creating something, knowing that when you're done, it's gonna be used to victimize innocent people? - So, what?

What, this was like a political statement?

I just don't think that the government or anybody can be trusted with that kind of power.

So I leaked it. - And it never occurred to you that criminals might use it?

Or this country's enemies?

Yeah, it occurred to me.

That's why I modified the code to include a phone-home component.

Whenever the program gets used, it makes contact with my server so I can track who's downloaded it.

We're going to need that data.

Well, if you raided my storage locker, then you already have it.

♪♪

Guard: As far as you go, pops.

Whatever you're looking for, this ain't it.

Pops.

You know, I always liked that name.

Louis Armstrong was called "Pops."

Willie Stargell, the legendary Pittsburgh Pirate.

My lord, that man could smack a fastball.

There was Pops Foster, Pops Fernandez...

All right, let's go, pop.

[ Laughing ] Oh, my.

And then there are different pops entirely.

Like the pops you hear when your shoulder's being dislocated.

I need you to hop on that radio of yours and let whoever's in charge know that I'm outside.

[ Camera shutter clicks ]

Emilio: Wow. Raymond Reddington.

I mean, you're actually him.

Indeed.

Can, uh, I ask how you found us?

I read Rimona's piece on torafugu kimo.

Chef Hanzo and I just became friends.

He said I could reach her here.

Mr. Reddington, with only the greatest respect, I'm sure you can appreciate the people who write for Rigby prefer to keep their identities private.

It's not her identity I'm interested in.

It's the subject of her next profile--

Drexel.

Look...

It's bad business for a journalist to burn a source, but maybe I can make up for the indiscretion.

What do you have in mind?

An interview.

With you.

Let's not get ahead of ourselves.

First, I need to speak with Rimona.

Where are we?

Cyber techs recovered the laptop Mulgrew used to upload the mega rodent to the web.

And this is the phone-home log that Mulgrew created.

The IP address of everyone who's ever used the program is on that list. - Which means one of those is probably Drexel.

How many addresses are we talking about?

Aram: Too many.

It will take weeks to process.

If Reddington's right, Drexel's not gonna wait for us to catch up.

What about Adelson, the business partner?

Anything out of line?

TBD.

We just got all of his company's financial records.

Let's get on it.

If we don't find Drexel soon, we're gonna have another body on our hands.

What about Agent Keen?

I haven't seen her since this morning.

She just left word-- on her way to see Reddington.

He's in the hospital!

Liz: He was sh*t!

Not on the street. Let's get in a car.

He was involved in some kind of robbery, and now the police want to question him!

Lower your voice, Lizzy.

No.

I am not your Lizzy... to control, to be told what to do.

Don't you get it?

The only reason Tom did what he did is because he had to do something desperate to get away from this.

You made yourself clear this morning, Elizabeth.

You can blame me if you like.

Damn right, I blame you.

If he dies...

If he dies, it's because he put himself in exactly the wrong place at exactly the wrong time.

He did this, not me.

And that robbery the police want to ask him about-- diamonds.

He was part of a team that stole tens of millions of dollars' worth of diamonds.

A team I hear included his ex-girlfriend Gina Zanetakos.

He's reckless, dangerous.

He's not worthy of being your husband, and he sure as hell is not worthy of raising that child.

There's nothing here. It's a start-up.

They have clients, but it's nothing earth-shattering.

Not enough to explain how Brenner could afford that house. - He was into something-- something that Drexel intended to expose in his next exhibit.

But nothing in these books is going to tell us what that is.

Maybe we can ask Drexel himself.

Dembe just called.

Reddington has reason to believe he's operating out of New York City.

Aram: I'm on it.

Okay, here we go.

Of the 1,000-plus downloads of the NSA program, 13 are from the New York metropolitan area.

Five trace back to apartments leased by women.

It's unlikely, given the way that Brenner's neck was snapped.

Looks like four are public places-- three libraries and one internet café.

And these last three were downloaded in the last few hours--

after Brenner was m*rder*d.

Leaving... 2890 Central Avenue, Brooklyn.

Contact the New York field office.

Get up there as soon as possible.

Bring him in.

[ Indistinct shouting ]

All clear.

Set up outside. Be ready in case he comes back.

Hey.

This is our guy.

Ressler.

What the hell is this?

[ Monitor beeping ]

[ Breathes deeply ]

[ Chuckles ] Hey.

Tom, you're okay.

You're in the ICU.

Uh--

Don't try to talk.

You need to save your strength so I can k*ll you.

[ Chuckles ]

I didn't know if I was ever gonna see you again.

Either of you.

I'm sorry.

[ Door opens ]

Ma'am? Detective Savino, Metro PD.

I'm gonna need you to step out of the room, please.

He's barely conscious.

You don't need to do this right now.

Ma'am, I'm not gonna ask you again.

Is he under arrest?

Tom, don't say anything!

He's invoking his right to counsel.

Okay, here's what I could find.

The space was leased six months ago to a Reginald Turner, age 44.

Paid all six months in advance and gave one character reference-- a high-school art-history teacher in Virginia, who he listed as a former colleague.

We should be able to run with that.

Already running.

That's him.

"Reggie Turner, local teacher opens first solo gallery show."

Drexel's real name is Reginald Turner.

So he is an artist.

At least he was.

From what I can tell, he only had one show, a pop-up gallery in the East Village, and the reviews were not kind.

Ressler: Navabi.

[ Camera shutter clicks ]

It looks like Drexel has been watching these guys for a while.

We've got two, three dozen photos here, half of Randy Brenner, half of Jon Adelson, the partner.

I think it's time we go at Adelson and rattle his cage.

What do you need from us?

Aram, there's a laptop here.

We're gonna need you to get remote access, see what you can find.

No problem.

I know just the mega rodent for the job.

[ Hair dryer whirring ]

Ah, the fair Rimona.

Reddington.

How did you get in here?

How did you even find me?

I know you suggested to your editor that we meet later in the week, but I'm afraid our business couldn't wait.

Our business?

You mean your business.

'Cause my work doesn't involve burning sources.

Your source is a serial k*ller.

Look...

Drexel obviously wants to remain anonymous.

As a reporter, I have to honor that, regardless of what he's suspected of.

As a reporter.

Amazing times, these, don't you think?

When any Tom, d*ck, or Sally with a laptop and internet access can declare herself a journalist.

I mean, you don't even use a last name.

I would be thrilled to write a profile on you when all this is done, but I'm not gonna help you find Drexel.

Oh, but I think you will, Rachel.

That is your name, isn't it?

Rachel Hobbs.

Daughter of Randall Hobbs, the patio-furniture king of Costa Mesa, California.

I admire your respect for anonymity, Rachel, but your principles are a luxury I can no longer afford.

So I'll give you a choice-- you can protect his anonymity or yours.

I didn't k*ll Randy.

We believe you.

Then why are you here?

Well, you may not know who k*lled Brenner, but you definitely know why.

And whatever he was into, whatever the two of you were into--

This is crazy.

Look, we can help you...

Before whoever came after Randy comes after you.

We're done.

[ Cellphone rings ]

You want to talk to me again, I want a lawyer.

Aram, I can't talk. We're right in the middle of-- - Interviewing Adelson.

I know. I am watching you right now.

Excuse me?

I'm looking at Drexel's laptop.

Randy Brenner's computer isn't the only one he ratted.

He's running another video feed from Adelson's office.

Look to your right. There must be a webcam.

On his desktop, yeah.

He's recording everything, and not to the system-- to some remote location.

I don't know where. Here, let me try something.

[ Keyboard clacking ]

[ Computer beeps ]

Whoa.

Whoa.

Two more feeds just popped up.

Okay, you guys should get back here.

[ Cellphone rings ]

I'm here.

Drexel: My voice is not to be recorded.

Of course. I can take notes.

Begin walking-- now.

Straight ahead, toward the exit.

Keep walking.

Keep walking.

The staircase on your left-- take it.

Do it now.

Dembe.

♪♪

[ Elevator bell dings ]

We get a call-- a crew hit Reinder-De Groot.

Next thing we know, a guy matching the description of one of the perps stumbles in here all sh*t up, won't say why.

That's just a coincidence.

We got the head of corporate security coming over now.

Name's Klerken.

Ring a bell?

He's gonna walk in here and identify you.

Case open, case closed.

Nik: It's gonna be okay.

No, it isn't.

It is.

Everything will be okay.

♪♪

[ Elevator bell dings ]

[ Door closes ]

I hope you'll forgive the security precautions.

As you know, my work is, uh, inflammatory.

I rely on the support of the enlightened patrons who value my efforts...

One of whom was kind enough to make this space available for our interview.

It's fine. Really.

So, did...

Did you have a question?

You seem... uncomfortable.

Oh. Uh, no.

I-- Sorry.

Yes. Of course I have questions.

[ Sighs ]

Honestly, I'm familiar with your work, and it's not every day that I find myself alone in a basement with a man who, um...

Kills.

Yes.

Understandable.

But I assure you, you have nothing to fear.

Unless... that is, you're hiding something.

Raymond Reddington.

I saw him.

You brought him here.

No, I...

Does he know about me?

What I've done?

I-I-I don't know what you're talking about.

[ Breathes shakily ]

Does... he... know?

Where the hell is Keen?

No word from her. Or Reddington.

Sir, you're gonna want to take a look at this.

This is a continuous feed being run live from Adelson's office.

Drexel wasn't just ratting Randy Brenner.

He was recording footage from multiple cameras.

Recording to where?

We're still not sure.

From how many sources?

So far, I've only seen four.

One was from Randy Brenner's house.

The second, Adelson's office.

And these are the other two.

Who is that?

We don't know yet, but that's probably $100 grand, and that is definitely a semiautomatic.

Drexel figured out what these guys are up to.

Can you trace the feed?

Working on it.

♪♪

[ Rimona screaming ]

[ g*n cocks ]

No! Wait! No, please!

I didn't have a choice.

You're hurting me!

[ Gasping ]

[ Thud ]

[ Coughing ]

Get her out of here.

[ Door opens ]

Okay, Mr. Klerken.

When we go inside, I'm gonna ask you only two questions--

One, do you recognize anyone?

When you answer yes, my next question will be "From where do you recognize him?"

Klerken: If it's him, I'll know right away.

I spent a good amount of time with the scum who stole from us.

♪♪

[ Door closes ]

Savino: Sir, do you recognize anyone?

Well...

I damn well better.

I'm the one who trained him.

You want to say that again?

He's not your guy.

Tom, thank God you're okay.

Tom?

Tom Keen.

He's one of ours.

Followed after the crew that hit us.

Risked his life in the process.

If that's true, you want to tell me why you never said anything?

I can answer.

My men are under strict instructions not to speak to anybody but me, even the authorities.

I hope I've been of help.

♪♪

East garage, this is Altmeir. I think we have a problem.

[ g*nsh*t ]

[ g*nsh*t ]

Man: Breach!

Whoa, whoa.

[ g*nsh*t ]

Woman: Whoa! Whoa!

[ Indistinct shouting ]

Hey, hey, hey, hey. Hey, hey, hey!

Whoa.

Stay right in the chair for me, please.

You can't--

[ Indistinct conversations ]

Man: I don't know. I don't know.

What the hell is this place?

You know, I've often considered my love of art, and I realized it's not just the art-- it's the artist.

I like art a lot, but I love artists.

I love the stories behind their work...

The characters.

Lopping off ears...

Rankling the establishment with paintings of soup cans...

Often boldly revealing themselves to our keen observation and insight, our scrutiny.

What a marvelous thing, the courage to create.

Though I must say, nothing about your work strikes me as courageous.

It seems self-indulgent, petulant.

Like a tantrum from a child who's just realized that the world can be a dark and unfair place.

I'm-- I'm not interested in your opinions of my work.

An artist's job is to speak.

And this latest manifesto?

Beginning with the m*rder of Randy Brenner.

What is it that you feel so compelled to say?

You have no idea what he was doing, do you?

We call it a rat farm.

A what?

Rat-- remote access trojan.

We know what a rat is.

We also know that you downloaded the NSA program that Aaron Mulgrew put online.

So, why call it a farm?

Because it's a business.

We collect ratted systems, grow them, maintain them, and ultimately sell them.

You were right-- as a start-up, Headwind was nothing special.

Randy and I were struggling until we got lucky and he found that program.

You saw a golden opportunity.

Gold?

What you are looking at is worth a hell of a lot more than gold in today's market.

This is what people want-- access.

You want to spy on a sorority girl?

Maybe you want to know what your local politician likes to do at home.

Trade secrets of a Fortune 500 company.

We commandeer their systems, then stream the feed like a broadcasting network.

Cops, nannies, teachers.

People pay to access the feeds?

We offer a range of pricing options.

Single fee, package of five, or unlimited streaming for those who prefer to browse.

Look, I lied to protect this place, but I swear I told the truth about Randy.

I didn't k*ll him, and I don't know who did.

Drexel: All those people...

Stars of a show they don't even know exists.

Red: An enemy of mine contacted you.

Okay. Hang on.

A work was commissioned.

That was a job.

I need to know how to find your benefactor-- now.

I don't know.

It-it was all done anonymously.

I got meticulous instructions for what to paint and where to send it.

Mm. An address.

You can answer me, or I can turn that wall behind you into a Jackson Pollock.

You think it was Reddington?

It had to be.

He got to Klerken.

He intimidated him, or he paid him off.

I don't know.

My question is, why?

This was his chance to get rid of me.

When I confronted him, I didn't know what you were being accused of.

I just said you were part of some sort of robbery.

He already knew.

He told me about the diamonds.

How?

Nik: Because I told him.

I don't understand. You told him?

Since when do you talk to Reddington?

Nik: I do more than talk to him, Liz.

I work for him.

I have ever since the day he was sh*t.

I'm part of his mobile surgical unit now.

You warned me not to take his money.

I should have listened.

Nik, I had no idea.

Three nights ago, I was standing in an abandoned garage, pulling a 9mm slug from the liver of a 32-year-old weapons dealer from Kuala Lumpur.

So when you say he makes you feel trapped, like your life isn't your own anymore, I know how that feels.

Why did you do it?

You don't want me to be with Tom, but you saved him.

People say youth is wasted on the young.

I disagree.

I believe wisdom is wasted on the old.

All you can do is part with it, but very few will take it.

Least of all, the people closest to you.

They want no part of it.

No matter how often I warn you about Tom, you seem intent on discovering those perils for yourself.

Thank you.

[ Thunder crashes ]

I know...

I say things that unsettle you about the dangers that lie ahead.

I know I anger you with things I say about Tom.

But if I've ever given you the impression that you won't survive this, that you and your child aren't going to have the simple life that I know you long for, I'm sorry.

Because you are going to have that, Lizzy.

[ Correatown's "Dear Trouble" plays ]

So, now we know what Brenner and Adelson were up to.

But what about Drexel?

All the footage he's been gathering--

We still haven't figured out where it's being recorded or what he planned to do with it.

♪ I wanted so much to need it ♪
♪ but I couldn't feel it at all ♪
♪ ooh-ooh-ooh ♪
♪ ooh-ooh ♪
♪ ooh-ooh-ooh ♪
♪ ooh-ooh ♪
♪♪
♪ given the hand that feeds you ♪
♪ do you feel hungry at all? ♪

Woman: Tell us a little about Elizabeth.

Tom: I remember the first time she brought up adoption.

She was so nervous.

She tried to cook dinner, which was a complete disaster.

I think it was around my third bite of cold spaghetti, she just started to cry.

And I don't know.

I think she was afraid of disappointing me.

But she told me she wanted to adopt.

You know, with so many children in need of a loving family, as she put it.

In that moment, I just...

I don't think I've ever loved her more.

She's gonna be a great mom.

I mean, she really is.

♪ trouble again ♪
♪ troubled by time ♪
♪ trouble again ♪

[ Chuckles ]

♪ oh, your troubling mind ♪

I'm sorry.

For what I did.

Oh, it was stupid.

Yeah.

And I almost lost you because of it.

And the idea of that...

That I would never see you again...

I know. Wait.

♪ you're wearing me down ♪
♪ you're wearing me down ♪

Oh, my God.

I felt it.

Right there.

♪ you're wearing me down ♪
♪ you're wearing me down ♪

I want to keep the baby.

♪ you're wearing me down ♪

Our baby.

Oh! [ Breaths heavily ]

Where's Rostova?

Who? I don't know who--

Nine days ago, a painting was commissioned.

It was sent to this address, shipped to you-- Mr. Paul Allond.

Yes. I...

I'm a dealer.

A private art broker.

I received a call.

No name was given.

She said a piece had been acquired and was nearly finished.

She asked that it be sent to me.

For pickup.

Yes.

But not by her. By you.

I assume you're the one she spoke of.

Reddington.

She said you would come.

♪♪

[ Scoffs ]

You can send it back.