04x14 - The Architect

[bunniefuu]

♪ the first thing I remember knowing ♪
♪ was a lonesome whistle blowing ♪
♪ and a young'un's dream of growing up ♪

Brought you a Bible, Lonnie.

A little late for saving souls, ain't it, Preacher?

I'd suggest Luke 21:36.

"Pray always, that ye may be accounted worthy to escape all these things."

♪ one and only rebel child ♪
♪ from a family, meek and mild ♪

[ Door clanks ]

♪ my Mama seemed to know what lay in store ♪
♪ despite my Sunday learning ♪
♪ towards the bad, I kept on turning ♪
♪ till Mama couldn't hold me anymore ♪
♪ dear old Daddy, rest his soul ♪
♪ left my Mom a heavy load ♪
♪ she tried so very hard to fill his shoes ♪
♪ working hours without rest ♪

What do you think is in there? What's say you open it up, stick your head in, and take a gander?

♪ she tried to raise me right ♪

[ Tires screech ]

♪ I turned 21 in prison ♪

[ g*nf*re ]

♪ doing life without parole ♪

[ Grunting ]

Charliehorse, we're under att*ck!

[ Loud whirring ]

[ Grunting ]

[ Whirring continues ]

♪ but her pleading, I denied ♪

[ Engine revving ]

♪ 'cause Mama tried ♪

[ Grunts ]

♪♪

You've m*rder*d my friends and colleagues.

You blackmailed a man I hold in the highest esteem.

You seem to have a comprehensive knowledge of my life that you could only realize through an association with someone close to me.

You don't recognize me, do you?

I want to know who hired you.

Gavin Pruitt was my husband.

Most people think the danger in a situation like this is the cold.

The more immediate danger is the oxygen supply.

Answer my question, or you will suffocate long before you freeze to death.

Gavin set up for tax havens in Mauritius.

And when the Feds got to him, you thought he would talk.

So you had him k*lled.

I want a name.

[ Cellphone rings ]

[ Helicopter blades whirring overhead ]

Raymond, it's Cooper.

Harold, what can I do for you?

Give me back my prisoner.

Which prisoner?

You know exactly who I'm talking about, Reddington.

Isabella Stone.

She's perfectly safe. I have every intention of returning her to your custody as soon as she's given me the information I need.

You've gone too far.

I just came from Main Justice. They threatened to shut us down.

They're bluffing.

Are they?

From their point of view, you've become a bigger liability than an asset.

Harold, what's happening here? You sound desperate.

From the beginning, this has been all about serving your agenda.

And I've rolled with that because I genuinely believe this task force makes the world a safer place.

You aren't being naive--

You're damn right!

Not anymore. Now I want a name.

I want a big one, not some independent contractor like Stone.

You can't just order up super-criminals like Chinese takeout, Harold.

I want it now.

The Architect.

Cooper: London, 2014.

A tanker loading diesel fuel explodes.

10 minutes later, a water main fails, flooding Covent Garden.

Only after authorities pumped out the water did they realize $100 million in diamonds had been stolen from a nearby vault.

According to Reddington, this was the work of The Architect, who, for a price, will design, construct, and execute the perfect crime.

Cortina, Italy, 2011--

A safety canon malfunctions, setting off a devastating avalanche.

Two weeks earlier, a Brazilian art collector's home was broken into.

Nothing of value was stolen, but, panicked by the break-in, the collector shipped a Caravaggio to a secure facility in Geneva, whose director would be k*lled in the avalanche.

The man who signed for the old master was an imposter, and the Caravaggio disappeared.

Reddington says The Architect is in Philadelphia recruiting hackers at an underground gathering called Black Mass 13.

Sounds like a slasher movie.

More like a ghost story.

Black Mass is where the worst of the worst compete to see who can hack a set of security measures.

The winner is supposed to be hired for the type of gig that you don't back from with a soul--

CP, industrial sabotage-- real horror show stuff.

Multiple hits on a hexadecimal embedded in postings containing the words "black," "mass," and "13."

And we have... [ Taps key ]

We have a GPS coordinate in Philadelphia.

The location of the convention?

No.

This is just the first step down the rabbit hole.

Aram: All right, guys, look for anything out of the ordinary.

Hey, Keen!

[ Clicks ]

"If foo equals first object oriented."

Enter "then bar," then an equal sign, then the words "binary arbitrary reason."

Totally what I was gonna say.

[ Taps key ]

1955 South Hartford, Havertown.

What are we gonna do when we get there?

It's all about pattern recognition.

Just-- Just keep your eyes open.

[ Cellphone vibrates ]

[ Beeps ]

Hey. Did you talk to Richard Game?

No, but I think I was wrong.

About what? Game confessed to k*lling you.

He's dead.

Turns out his mother's still alive, so I'm gonna see her.

Maybe she has some answers.

But wait. What were you wrong about?

I didn't really care what Richard Game had to tell me until I find out he was dead, and now it's all I want to know.

Who my father was, who I was, why somebody wanted the world to believe I was dead.

That's what I was wrong about, saying it didn't matter to me.

But you were right. It does.

I'll call you if I find anything out.

We're here.

Do you see anything weird?

I'm not loving the idea of a rabbit food smoothie, but other than that, no.

Can you send me a photo?

[ Door closes ]

[ Shutter clicks ]

[ Monitor beeps ]

Okay, I got it.

I'll have a penny candy, please.

Thank you.

Oh, my God, there are so many combinations.

This is gonna take hours.

Here, let me see that.

How long did that take?

Agent Ressler, a word. I'll give this to Aram.

We found an SD chip.

Aram should be able to use it to locate the Black Mass.

Reven Wright... was my superior and my friend, so I don't like this any more than you, but the inquiry into her disappearance--

Reven Wright didn't disappear.

She was m*rder*d by Laurel Hitchin.

We know that.

The inquiry's being shut down.

[ Scoffs ] The president's National Security Advisor is a m*rder*r.

There is no evidence of that, no witnesses, no prints, no case.

The head of the justice division doesn't just disappear.

But until we can prove it, the case is closed.

Aram: Okay, I got something.

It's a pickup point, I think.

248 Garfield. 3:20 PM.

It says, "Come alone and wear a yellow hat."

We need to get an agent to that pickup point to get into Black Mass to ID The Architect.

Yeah, but whoever we send in would have to really know their stuff.

Not just the programming, but the buzzwords, the culture. It's gonna...

No. I can't, not after last time.

You were amazing last time.

Which part, getting beaten to a pulp by my psycho girlfriend, or screaming our safe world like a baby who needs his diaper changed?

Cooper: The Architect is a mass m*rder*r.

This is our only chance to catch him.

We need you to do this.

[ High-pitched whirring ]

We're hot.

[ g*nsh*t, expl*si*n ]

[ Rumbling ]

Well...

I believe that will do the job... quite nicely.

Are you getting the CCTV feeds?

Okay, we have eyes.

Yellow hat, gray blazer. Very handsome.

And the, um, TAC team is standing by?

They'll be in place as soon as you give us a location for the Black Mass site.

So when I ID The Architect, they're gonna breach, right?

All right, here we go.

[ Speaks indistinctly ]

[ Doors close ]

Put this on.

Now.

Let's go.

We're right here with you. We're not going anywhere.

Red: There's a man I know who works as a docent in a small museum in the Northwest.

[ Shivering ]

He recently remarried.

Rotary Tuesdays. Euchre Fridays.

A modest but happy life.

Gavin and I played Euchre.

Before you k*lled him.

Gavin was a brilliant accountant.

And an even better man... who worshiped you.

When the Feds came asking questions about the nature of his relationship with me, his only thoughts were about whether you and your children would be safe and well provided for.

This person you described--

I didn't k*ll your husband.

I helped him walk away from everything he loved to protect you and your innocence.

Ironic.

Where is he?

Who hired you?

I got an anonymous package... [ Shivering ] ...detailing... files a-about every aspect of your operations, and--

And your payment?

I received a credit stick. It's in my apartment.

It's in the-- the lining of a red silk dress.

Now, my husband-- where is he?

He's married.

[ Breathes unevenly ]

He remembers you as you were.

To show him what you've become would be devastating.

I'm not gonna tell you where he is.

[ Breathes unevenly ]

But I will turn the heat up.

You must be chilled to the bone.

Aram, we're tracking you through Lexington Park.

You're going northeast on Algon Avenue.

What's going on?

Bring up another camera.

It must be some sort of jamming software.

Aram.

[ Static hissing ]

Aram, can you hear me?

Aram? Cough twice if you can hear me.

Contact Tactical Aviation.

Give them specs on the van and a radius to work with.

I want surveillance images within 10 minutes.

[ Birds chirping ]

[ Vehicles passing ]

Who are you?

Uh, Ms. Lucy Game?

My name is Frank Carraro.

If I could bother just have a moment of your time.

It's about your son.

My son is dead. Have some respect.

I'm with the Innocence Project, and we believe that your son spent time in prison for a crime he did not commit.

His name was Christopher Hargrave.

Yeah, I remember.

Before he confessed, did he talk to anyone?

A lawyer or his cellmate? Did anyone approach him?

You obviously didn't know my boy.

Richard k*lled a lot of people.

Took 'em apart in the garage out back.

Did things to them... I'll never forget.

Finding out what really happened to this boy would make a huge difference to the people who cared about Christopher Hargrave.

Your services had better be used for someone who didn't belong in prison.

Richard never belonged anywhere else.

♪♪

Just wait right here.

[ Beeping ]

All right, move.

[ Beeping ]

Wait right here.

[ Crunches ]

[ Beeping ]

♪♪
♪ all I've known all my life ♪

[ Indistinct conversations ]

♪ 'cause if not, I'm already dead ♪
♪♪

You looking for work?

Uh, you know, if, um, the job's right.

What do you know about batch credit card spoofing?

I've done, uh, some, you know.

Uh, for cartels mostly.

Not that you look like you work for a cartel.

Maybe you do. Uh, how-- how would I know?

I'm-- Uh, excuse me. I think I see an old friend.

♪♪

Excuse me. Um...

Aren't you supposed to be in jail?

[ Speaking foreign language ]

Now's not a good time.

Oh, really? I'm sorry.

Am-- Am I inconveniencing you?

I said not now.

[ Cheering ]

Yeah! Five minutes to HackStar!

Nut up and get your hack on!

[ Crowd cheering ]

Whoa! Not a piggy-backed SQL injection like a rank amateur!

Gettin' tense, gettin' tense, gettin' tense!

Come on, wizards!

Second prize is a set of steak knives.

Third prize is your picture on a milk carton!

♪♪

Come on, come on, come on.

[ Error sounds, expl*si*n ]

Yes! Take that, biatch!

All right, all right, all right!

We have a new heavyweight champion of the world!

[ Applause ]

♪♪

[ expl*si*n ]

[ g*nf*re, screaming ]

They find out that we work for the government, we're dead.

What do you mean "we"?

51.3 seconds. Excellent.

Do you really think that the Feds are gonna let a prodigy like me rot in a jail cell?

Is that a remote code cypher?

Are you trying to steal proprietary ideas?

Why do you think that I'm here?

I had three agencies fighting a cage match to cut a deal with me before your girlfriend even finished reading me my rights.

She is not my girlfriend.

Oh, you're pathetic.

Wait, wait, wait, wait. Wait. Who won that cage match?

The NSA. Who do you think I'm stealing for?

The NSA? Are you kidding me?

Come on!

3.7 seconds ahead of schedule.

Who-- Who the hell are you?

Doesn't matter who I am, Mr. Patel.

What matters is I would very much like to speak to the young man who won your contest.

Uh, I-I don't know where he is.

[ Breathes sharply ]

How tragic.

[ g*nsh*t ]

[ Grunts ]

Find him.

♪♪

[ Amplified ] On the odd chance I don't have it already, may I have your attention, please?

Everyone... find a terminal.

There's something I need you to do.

♪♪

Cooper: That's all we're getting?

[ Phone hangs up ]

Liz: Our techs can't figure out how their encrypted feeds are being hacked.

And The Architect's got us flying blind.

Not quite. The blackout is specific to this six-square block area where The Architect doesn't want us to look.

Which means Black Mass is in there somewhere, and so is Aram.

[ Door slams ]

Keen, find out what he wants.

Ressler, Navabi, get a team on site.

We breach on Agent Mojtabi's signal.

I need to speak with Aram.

Do you know where they're holding Black Mass?

It's urgent, Lizzy.

Because we don't, and that's where he is.

What do you want?

To direct you to a warehouse in Annapolis operated by Newcastle Ice.

Are you offering me free ice?

An ice queen-- Isabella Stone-- returned as promised.

Did she tell you who paid her to att*ck you?

Only that we share the same bank.

One that guarantees its depositors absolute privacy.

I was hoping Aram could pull aside that veil of secrecy.

Help us located Black Mass, and he can.

As I told Harold when he browbeat me for a Blacklister, I'm otherwise occupied and in no position to assist.

Sending Aram after The Architect was reckless.

His absence complicates matters for me.

I'll inform Main Justice the minute we have Stone in custody.

We'll find out if that appeases them.

And why do you want to appease them so badly?

Will we ever find that out?

Who is that guy?

I don't know.

My job was to ID him.

Okay, and then what?

The cavalry was supposed to come.

Tell me you have a plan "B."

Yeah, I'm working on it, Elise.

Or whatever you're calling yourself this week.

[ Door closes ]

A US power grid has never been compromised by hackers, for one reason--

It requires the combined skills of people who are unwilling to work together.

Today, you will work together... unwillingly.

The Architect is gonna have the exits covered.

But the mercs have radios, and if I can get one and I can get to the roof, I can notify the FBI.

The roof?

Please tell me you just said that to impress me.

If you think you're that hot--

Well, you are, but I don't care.

What I do care about is the lives of the people out there, so just-- Okay.

I need-- I need something that burns.

Oh, crap, come on.

[ Speaks indistinctly ]

Come on. [ Sighs ]

This damn scarf.

Was any of it real?

It wasn't personal.

What we did at night with the lights off?

That was personal.

The way you let me feel about you--

I can't think of anything more personal.

[ Clattering ]

Hey...

Aram, whatever it is that you're planning, I've personally kicked your ass.

You're gonna get yourself k*lled.

So help. Or don't. I don't care.

Just... get out of my way.

[ Door opens, closes ]

Groups one and three, commence your DDoS att*ck... now.

Groups two and four, 10 seconds.

Without the contest winner, our plan fails.

Find him.

Sierra 2, sit-rep?

Negative contact, Leader.

Group two and four... now.

♪♪

Let me guess. You were gonna clock me from behind.

No.

She was.

[ Grunting ]

Ahh! [ Grunts ]

Whoa.

There's gotta be sewer access in the sub-basement.

You know, it's not too late to join me.

To run? I'm not gonna do that.

You do you, man.

Architect: Prepare to run your rootkit scripts.

3... 2...

1... execute.

Ready for your big day, Lonnie?

[ Lights power down ]

I do believe I am, Warden.

♪♪

Break emergency. I'm requesting an emergency autopatch relay to 9-1-1.

Did you see the mother?

Dead end.

She thinks her son got what he deserved.

Emergency patch from switching control. It's Aram.

Look, I have to go, but I'm gonna make a few calls, see what I can find out. This isn't over.

Aram?

The Architect has control of the convention.

I count six mercs, heavily armed.

Where are you?

I don't know exactly, but, um, gonna switch this radio to tone so you can trace my signal.

Aram, Agents Ressler and Navabi are in the area.

We're on our way.

Okay, they're here, they're here.

Hands! Keep 'em up!

Keep 'em up!

Find where he's transmitting from.

Get the location to Ressler. Tell him to breach.

Well... you're a many of many skills, Mister...

Well, whoever you are, I need those skills.

Count me out.

Like him?

♪♪

I know who you are, and that you're willing to k*ll me if you have to.

But you don't know who I am.

And I am not someone who's gonna help you commit a crime.

[ Hammer clicks ]

I'm not gonna help you.

[ g*nsh*t, screaming ]

[ g*nf*re ]

Samar!

Get down! Grenade!

♪♪

[ Rings, beeps ]

Liz, hey, what'd you find?

When Richard Game confessed to your m*rder, he had been sick for years.

He had a virus called Jenkins-Fowler.

So? What?

So it's incredibly contagious.

He lived under constant quarantine.

Well, somebody talked Game into taking the fall for my m*rder.

His phone calls were monitored. His letters were screened.

Every interaction was supervised by prison doctors.

So maybe it's one of them.

Or maybe it was the one person allowed unsupervised visitation with Game-- his mother.

She lied to me.

The team breached. There's been an expl*si*n.

Thanks. No sign of Aram.

He must have been taken hostage.

Which means he's still alive.

But for how long? We have no leads on The Architect's plan.

Aram is the plan.

Where is he?

Case number 91170086.

The US Government vs. Janet Sutherland.

You might wanna look that up before pulling the trigger.

[ Radio chatter ]

Ressler: You gotta be kidding me. All right.

She cut a deal?

Full immunity.

Cooper just sent over the plea agreement.

She's now an asset for the NSA.

You said Aram is the plan. What did you mean by that?

He won a contest.

It was an audition to hack a tranche of softwares.

I couldn't cr*ck it.

A software for what?

A control panel... for some sort of facility.

You know, center systems, RFID tracking, security doors.

Do you know where?

The Architect-- he made them launch a cyber att*ck on a power grid in Southern Virginia.

Where in Southern Virginia?

I don't know.

Look around though. This-- This guy kills people.

Once he gets what he needs from Aram, he's gonna k*ll him, too.

[ Classical music playing ]

[ Whispers ] I know you said you didn't want to be disturbed, but you have a guest.

Not now.

He said it's urgent.

I wouldn't have come if the circumstances weren't extraordinary.

David, I need you to help me identify a depositor at the bank.

You know the rules.

Yes, and I have great respect for them.

Then you know I can't help you.

Besides, I'm busy.

David, an account holder at your bank has stolen my money, damaged my businesses, and k*lled my associates.

I have the credit stick the depositor used to finance this bit of nastiness, but the data is encrypted and I can't access it.

I need your help. I need a name.

Is my jacket puckering?

Puckering. Come si dice "puckering"?

I need a name.

[ Mutters ]

You know who the depositors are. Complete privacy.

David, please.

Perhaps you don't recognize Polpetto.

The man is one of the great living artists.

He rarely does portraits.

He's very selective in who he portrays with his brush.

David, it's a painting.

What I'm talking about is life and death.

The last three paintings he's done-- one is hanging in the Whitney, one is in the Tate Modern, one is in the Pompidou.

I could be hanging in the Pompidou if you would just get the hell out of my house.

Now go, please.

♪♪

I owe you an apology.

Oh! You can't come in here!

I lied to you.

Get out.

I'm not Frank Carraro with Project Innocence.

I'm Christopher Hargrave-- the boy you convinced your son to say he k*lled.

I'll call the police.

I know about the quarantine, his illness.

You were the only one who had unsupervised visitation.

I am warning you--

How much were you paid, and by who?

Ahh! Ahh!

You had a sick son who committed unspeakable crimes.

Letter come... special delivery.

Return address was a PO box in New York.

$100,000 if Richard said he did something he didn't.

Your son gave the cops details about what happened to me, things that weren't in the papers.

I got a script.

It-- What Richard was supposed to say.

Do you still have it?

[ Switch clicks ]

[ Paper rustles ]

[ Knock on door ]

The Architect-- according to Reddington, he designs, constructs and executes the perfect crime.

You figured out what he's after in Southern Virginia.

Ressler: Greenville Correctional Facility-- one of the most secure prisons in America.

Home to Virginia's Death Row, which is why they sent Lonnie Perkins there.

Cooper: The cop k*ller.

And president of the Aryan Revolutionary Council.

Right now, they're the biggest white supremacist g*ng in the prison system.

Perkins is scheduled to be ex*cuted tonight.

You think this is all about breaking out Perkins?

The ARC is exactly the kind of organization that would have the resources to hire The Architect.

Even if he took control of the prison's internal systems, they're not just gonna let Perkins walk out.

What's the ace up his sleeve?

On my signal, you will execute a remote takeover of the software controlling the internal operations of the prison.

Do you have any idea how many firewalls and built into a system like that?

26. All disabled-- thanks to a statewide blackout we created.

Even if that's true, the prison's operating system is physically segregated from the Internet.

Only way anyone could communicate with the software--

Is if someone inside the prison installed a back door.

♪♪

[ Door closes ]

I'd like the door open, please, in case any of our visitors feel the need to step out for air.

[ Knob rattles ]

It's locked.

Architect: Warden McCaslin, honored guests of the state, pleased direct your attention to guard tower 5.

♪♪

[ High-pitched whirring ]

3... 2...

1.

[ g*nsh*t ]

[ expl*si*n, screaming ]

[ Men shout indistinctly ]

It's gone. The tower is-- it's gone.

[ Rumbling ]

The breakout-- it's started.

What did Cooper say?

A guard tower in Greenville has just been destroyed.

Any news about Aram?

[ expl*si*n ]

That was your second guard tower, Warden.

For the sake of those in the third, I do hope I have your attention.

[ Red groans ]

[ Door closes ]

Ah...

[ Door closes ]

Oh, God, I love the smell of oil paint.

Ahh.

Almost more than gasoline.

Why are there certain... toxic smells that just grab you that way?

Come si dice... uh, kidnapping.

Rapimento.

You speak Italian?

There was a girl.

Of course there was.

Tell Polpetto I'm a great admirer of his work.

Mm, not so much his nudes.

They're a hair splayed for my tastes.

And that I do apologize, but I require his services.

Rapimento.

Architect: What you are witnessing, Warden, are solid titanium rods traveling at Mach 7--

Who are you?

It's not important who I am.

What's important is that I have control of your prison.

Once you release Lonnie Perkins, I will return that control to you.

That isn't gonna happen!

The next rod will strike the room where you and your guests are standing.

You have 30 seconds, Warden, to release Perkins.

[ Pounding ]

[ Door clatters ]

The whole prison's locked down, sir.

All personnel.

Sounds like you don't have much of a choice, Warden.

I could still have that man put a needle in your arm.

If I go down, you're going down with me.

Target acquired.

Prepare to fire on my mark.

Please. You can't do this.

Last chance, Warden.

Mach 7 leaves very little time for equivocation.

♪♪

[ Women crying ]

Let him go.

[ Phone rings, beeps ]

It's Cooper.

Intersection of Mesa and Ridgeline Road.

Get there now.

We have a location for The Architect?

And Aram. He's reached out using a device he got from Janet Sutherland.

That bitch?

She's sitting right here.

Hey, Samar. It turns out your boyfriend picked up the remote code cypher during the att*ck.

It's meant to transmit data, which it's doing now.

The data is meaningless, but the signal is traceable.

He's sending an SOS.

Architect: At the end of the hall is a door.

Once you pass through, turn left at the 1A yard.

Cycle gate 13.

[ Typing ]

[ Beep ]

[ Door clanks, whirs ]

Turn left and proceed 20 feet.

Two doors later, you'll see inprocessing.

Turn right.

♪♪

Open the gate.

If-- If I set him free, more innocent people are gonna die.

Just open the gate.

Please, don't--

What is that?

Oh, that's-- I-I don't-- I-I-- No.

No, please--

Well, what do you think you're doing?

Nothing-- I just-- If you sh**t me, you'll never be able to open the gate.

[ Hammer clicks ]

Just do it-- now!

Yes.

[ Typing ]

♪♪

You can't do this.

I already have.

[ g*nf*re ]

No, no, no, no! Watch him! He's getting away!

Don't let him get away! No!

Alert local authorities-- a black Suburban is going up Ridgeline Avenue southwest.

Look, if he leaves now, we lose him for good.

What are you doing?

[ High-pitched whirring ]

He escapes, more people die.

[ Whirring continues ]

[ g*nsh*t, expl*si*n ]

[ Exhales ]

♪♪

[ Classical music playing ]

Polpetto...

Shh!

♪♪

Reddington.

Oh, my goodness. This is tedious.

I'd give almost anything to have a scratch.

But seeing as how, given your profession, David, you might be more inclined to squeeze them rather than scratch them, I won't impose.

I'll just wait for the next break.

What-- What's he--

Why is he painting your portrait?

I only brought him here to leverage you to k*ll him unless you give me the name of the depositor who has declared w*r, but once I... properly introduced myself, the little fellow just lit right up.

I didn't fly him all the way here to paint your--

Where is my portrait?

He needed the canvas.

Turns out he's a huge fan of spaghetti Westerns-- the antihero, the outlaw, you know.

That's quite enough. Out.

Shh!

[ Kisses cheek ]

[ Laughs ] He is the sweetest man.

It's gonna break my heart to put a b*llet in his head, but that's what will happen unless you tell me who at your bank is coming after me.

You wouldn't.

I would.

In fact, what better way to assure my place in history?

The last portrait by a master, unfinished, k*lled by his subject.

And you without a portrait at all.

It's a shame.

My business is based on-- on absolute privacy.

Okay, okay, okay. Just stop.

[ Exhales ]

Give me the stick, and I'll look into it.

But you have to promise, please... spare the man's life.

We'll see how the portrait turns out.

For Agent Ressler.

Hey.

Case files. Reven Wright's disappearance.

I thought Cooper said that inquiry was closed.

Not to me it isn't.

I just got off with the DC field office.

Perkins and the driver were stopped on I-274.

They're in custody.

I told you you would be amazing.

You don't have to say that.

It's true.

I k*lled a man today.

♪♪

And by k*lling him, I prevented us from interrogating him.

From getting information on his other cases and clients, victims.

Aram, you did the right thing.

She's the reason we were able to find you.

Hey, uh, Janet...

Um...

Uh...

I'm probably only alive because of you, so... thank you for that.

It doesn't make up for... you know.

You should go.

[ Clears throat ]

Hey, Aram?

I am sorry.

[ Hayley Ross' "Barracuda" playing ]

♪♪

[ Sighs ]

Don't.

♪ I went swimming ♪

The mother?

She was paid $100,000 to convince her son to confess.

She admitted it. That's great.

Who paid her?

She doesn't know.

How is that possible?

She was paid in cash. Half came in the script, and half came after Game was convicted.

A script?

It has every detail.

The color of the beach house, the, uh, tear in the screen door, the Kn*fe block where the m*rder w*apon was found.

The pajamas you were wearing.

Yeah.

The night light in the hall.

♪ battle scarred ♪

Is any of this accurate?

It has to be, right?

I mean, I don't remember any of it.

You should show this to your mother.

She probably knows something.

No.

Her pain about losing her son seems real, but... Reddington says I can't trust her.

That if I tell her I'm her son, I'll never get the answers I'm looking for.

Based on this, it seems like the only way you will is if you do.

I just want to know, what was there to gain from me disappearing?

And why was it so important that someone confess to my m*rder?

And whoever wrote this, what could they possibly want?

♪♪

[ Knocks ]

Yeah?

Harold, it troubles me that you're dissatisfied with the results of our efforts.

Doing good for selfish reasons doesn't make you good.

It just makes you good at being selfish.

I'm sorry about your daughter.

You've never spoken of her around me, which of course I understand, but... you've seemed... anxious of late.

When someone you love is sick, you don't need to shoulder that burden alone.

My daughter isn't a burden.

She's my greatest blessing.

[ Stammers ]

I appreciate your concern, but she's none of your business.

[ Folder rustles ]

You want to know why those closest to you betray you?

Why you're alone and hunted?

It's because even when you try to do something good, you cannot seem to understand where your selfishness ends and other people's lives begin.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going home to people who love me.

Raymond.

It's Levine.

David.

Is this some kind of test?

See if I would violate client confidentiality?

What'd you find?

You know what I found.

David, the name of the account holder who paid Isabella Stone-- who is it?

It's you, Raymond.

The money came from one of your accounts.

That's not possible.

You have been catastrophically compromised.

Forget having your testicles scratched.

You've been castrated.

♪♪