Guide: So, uh, how long y'all been married?
Man: Just a week.
We're on our honeymoon.
Camp Pendleton, near San Diego, is home.
Yeah, well I can't think of a more romantic place than New Orleans or the Bayou.
That said, hold on to your sweetheart, 'cause this is gator country.
You never know what's gonna come up for a nibble.
Uh-oh...
Uh-oh, look out.
Here comes trouble.
(g*nsh*t)
(laughs)
Oh, Lord have mercy. That was close.
Dude, it's fake.
Oh yeah? Why don't you stick your hand in her mouth and tell me how fake she is?
That one looks way better.
Can you, uh, pull closer? We want to get a picture.
Oh, no, no, no, no.
No, no, we're not getting closer.
I'm calling the police.
That one's real.
♪ NCIS:New Orleans 1x05 ♪
It Happened Last Night
Original Air Date on October 21, 2014
♪ Boom, boom, boom, boom ♪
♪ Bang, bang, bang, bang ♪
♪ Boom, boom, boom, boom ♪
♪ How, how, how, how ♪
♪ Hey, hey ♪
♪ You gotta come on. ♪
Mmm!
Whoever invented praline bacon should win a Nobel Prize.
I can't even think of a word to adequately describe how good this tastes. Mmm!
You should try some of these shrimp and grits.
So...
I ran into a mutual friend of ours last night--
Logan Ross.
Really? Where?
In the French Quarter. He was in town for the gospel festival.
He said you two worked together.
Yeah, in Chicago. Two years.
Love me some Logan.
He loves him some Brody.
Good guy. Great storyteller.
I mean, he told me a beauty.
About...
About you.
Well, A: I don't have anything to hide, and B: you should mind your own damn business.
Well, A: everyone has something to hide.
And B: he offered it up. I didn't even have to ask.
And C: since you don't seem to like to divulge, I was all ears.
Okay, did he tell you about the time we went skinny dipping in Lake Michigan?
Because, remember, in Europe, topless is just another day at the beach.
(phones ringing)
Pride.
Dead Marine in the bayou.
Let's go.
Now, like I said, we-we was on the boat...
Wade: Brody, Lasalle.
Lasalle: Miss Loretta.
What's up?
Got a honeymooning couple enjoying a bayou boat ride until they came across the deceased.
That's not what I'm talking about, Loretta.
Talking about that look in your eye.
I broke up with James.
Why?
He was... too interested and available for my taste.
Since when is available is a problem?
Well, he's never been married, Dwayne.
And any man his age who has never made a serious commitment, they... sends up red flags.
Loretta, you're his age.
You've never been married either.
This is why I like the dead.
They don't call me on my hypocrisy.
Back to business.
Chief Warrant Officer William Reed.
Worked counterintelligence.
His previous job was at Gitmo.
I informed CACO to notify his wife.
Cause of death?
It's still early in the mystery, but chapter one is that unfortunate contusion on his forehead.
Looks perimortem.
Happened close to his time of death.
Speaking of... estimate of TOD?
I'd say between 6:00 and 9:00.
Thank you.
I'll know more later.
Well, you always do.
(sighs)
William was the real deal.
Dropped out of law school the day after 9/11 and enlisted in the Corps.
Did two tours of duty in Afghanistan.
He was Human Source Intelligence?
Yes, sir.
His OQR said his last posting was Guantanamo?
OQR is Officer Qualification Record.
I'm from the Great Lakes office, not Siberia.
(clears throat)
You said he was an interrogator?
Dealt with the most sensitive detainees.
Guys they picked up on the b*ttlefield. (phone beeping)
Excuse me.
Bag and tag computers, tablets, phones-- anything with a memory.
We're gonna need to identify his access to classified programs.
You'll have to read us in so we can review what he was working on.
Yes, sir.
I'm sorry.
Wade: The cause of death is consistent with drowning.
Which is not a surprise.
So, my guess is you either want to talk more about the end of your relationship with James, or another shoe's about to drop.
The latter. For sure.
(grunting)
Bad timing?
Hmm? Oh, not at all.
I was just trying an experiment in weight distribution.
Someone once said to me, “Always expect the unexpected.”
Unfortunately, it was my urologist.
And that is not the someone you want to hear that from.
(clears throat) Chemical analysis showed the water found in Reed's lungs... was not the same water he was discovered in.
So he was drowned somewhere else and was dumped in the wetlands?
Yeah, but that's not the weird part.
No, I'm thinking the weird part was you sitting on him.
You cannot underestimate the importance of ergonomics.
I found traces of black cotton fibers in his nose and mouth.
Yeah, and bruising suggests something was pressed up against his lips.
If you'd be kind as to hold this over LASMAN's mouth and nose.
Uh, “Life-sized Articulated Simulator Mannequin.”
With the dummies, it's best when you keep it technical.
A computer simulation using available evidence indicates that his legs were above his head; water went into the victim's mouth and lungs, all consistent with someone...
Someone who was waterboarded.
Vance (over speaker): Waterboarded?
Yes, Director. Gitmo forwarded a list of all the prisoners Chief Warrant Officer had contact with, along with their current status.
About half have been released.
Any stand out?
They all stand out.
And all would see it as a coup to... waterboard a United States Marine.
Any domestic chatter?
The FBI says no.
I've reached out to the CIA.
But if this was retribution...
Someone should be taking credit.
Let me talk to NSA and Homeland, get everyone's point of view.
Sir, if this gets any bigger I'm gonna need support from Washington.
Special Agent Pride, anything you need, that will be my priority.
What do we know?
Lasalle: Interagency has nada--
CIA, FBI, NSA-- no one's reporting chatter about Chief Warrant Officer William Reed's death.
Not a peep about a plot to waterboard.
Middle East, Far East, Africa-- No imminent thr*at.
Silence?
And then some.
Just spoke to the Casualty Assistance Officer.
He's made his rounds... can't find officer Reed's wife anywhere.
Name is Marilyn Reed.
Didn't show up for work.
Cell goes straight to voice mail.
I'll get a home address.
(doorbell chimes)
Keep knocking.
I'll check around back.
(doorbell chimes)
Okay... I know Logan told you about my sister's bachelorette party in Chicago.
I'm sorry-- Logan who?
(imitates accent): Ross.
Oh, that Logan?
The bachelorette party.
That story? It's...
It's really no big deal.
'Cause I... honestly thought I had hired a legitimate stripper.
No. He didn't tell me that story.
But I appreciate the added Brody Intel.
(quietly): Hey.
Someone jimmied the side door.
Eyes and ears. On my lead.
NCIS!
Federal agents!
(door creaks in distance)
NCIS!
Oh, my God!
Lasalle: Who are you?
Helaine. Helaine Morgan. I-I live next door.
Um...
I, uh, I saw your... I saw your car pull up and then I j...
I came by to make sure everything was all right with...
You have a moment?
Yeah.
Okay.
Pride: When was the last time you saw William Reed or his wife?
I saw Marilyn yesterday after her training session.
Is she okay?
You know he does counterintelligence for the Corps?
Man is a patriot.
And Marilyn is the wife every patriot deserves.
She takes care of everything when he is out of town.
Did you notice anything unusual around the property last night?
No. But I am the sort of person who believes that what other folks do is their business.
Oh, hey!
That's Jessica Flint.
She's the biggest gossip in Uptown.
You would think that between her husband having an affair and her gambling issues, Jessica would be more discreet.
No. I work at Harrah's-- I deal blackjack-- I see that woman there all the time.
So much for minding your own business.
We're gonna get our kits.
But where the house is concerned...
Mm-hmm.
...you saw nothing unusual in the last 24 hours?
Could a car be considered unusual?
Dark color, maybe black, maybe blue.
It had some kind of medallion on the hood.
I don't know much about cars, other than Marty DuChance on Maringy has one that feels like a midlife crisis.
Ma'am...
Mm-hmm.
...here is my card.
Okay.
Call me if you remember anything else.
You wouldn't happen to be single, would you?
Lasalle: Pride, I need you to come take a look at this.
Yeah.
You know where I live.
Looks like blood.
Not likely barbecue sauce.
What is that?
A rag?
It's a piece of glove.
Piece of a black glove.
I know that look.
What if Reed drowned here?
He's a Marine.
My guess is the k*ller... was able to... surprise him somehow.
Driveway. Bad guy standing here, Reed comes home. Through the gate. Surprises him. A struggle occurs. And then he gets driven right into the fountain. Hits his head. He's half in, half out of the water. Feet above his head.
Bad guy's wearing black gloves. Hand over Reed's mouth, leaves fibers as trace evidence. We have waterboarding without actually being waterboarded.
Brody: About Reed's wife, found a bunch of pictures of Marilyn with Mr. Fancy Pants.
Is that...
Pride: Oliver Huntington.
Who's he?
Well, you kind of nailed it with “Mr. Fancy Pants.” Huntingtons are one of the most influential families in New Orleans.
What's his relationship to Marilyn?
Hmm.
Kin.
That's his little sister.
All right, get some blood samples-- and Christopher, I want you to canvass the neighborhood, see if there are any surveillance cameras that might've caught a blue or black sedan with a medallion on the hood.
Brody, get your Sunday shoes on.
You're about to get introduced to New Orleans aristocracy.
Brody: We're concerned about your sister.
Marilyn? Why?
Have you talked to her recently?
Uh, it's been... at least a week.
She's at a yoga retreat in Santa Fe.
It's up in the mountains.
Bad reception. It's impossible to get ahold of her, which is probably the point.
Can we get the name of where she's staying, Oliver?
Sure. She sent it to me in a... in an e-mail. Please.
Come on in.
After her last birthday, Marilyn decided to... (chuckles) “get healthy.” She's always been... sickly.
She, uh... (chuckles) she got our father's genetic flaws and our mother's crazy allergies.
She changed her whole diet and, uh, started seeing this personal trainer.
Is it possible that...
William's death h-had something to do with his work?
We haven't determined that yet.
That's... that's awful.
That's just...
Marilyn... gave up everything for William.
My parents weren't exactly thrilled with the idea of...
Marilyn marrying a m*llitary man.
In my family, you married for power or status.
So what happened?
Love won.
I'm sorry, I-I can't find this e-mail.
We'd appreciate if you'd keep looking.
And let us know as soon as you hear from her.
Of course.
You never played mailbox baseball?
I grew up in the city.
The only mailbox was in the lobby of our building.
That would've been awkward.
That said, I did flourish at the art of stickball.
The math is fascinating. A spherical orb hurls towards you at 75 miles per hour.
You have 0.8 seconds to decide on a course of action and even less time to execute said course of action.
In the end, they called me “the Sultan of Du-bat.”
“Du-Bat, Dubai”-- it's a “Du-pun.”
It's a dud, that's what it is.
Pride: Tell me things.
Lasalle: Good news.
We got something. For once, the video is crystal clear.
Which never happens, ever.
Usually, it's, “Oh, hey, look, there's Bigfoot.
Quick, grab the worst camera money can buy.”
Got surveillance from three different houses in Reed's neighborhood... neighbor down the street pointed a security camera to the mailbox.
And looky here, the car Helaine was talking about.
Oliver Huntington.
Why didn't he tell us he was at the house?
Come on.
We need to chat.
Okay.
I'll, uh... I'll re-park.
He's not going to...
Park. No, he's not.
Pride: He's going back in the driveway; I'm gonna follow.
You go around the corner and cut him off, Chris.
Lasalle: I'm on it, King.
(engines revving, tires screeching)
Lasalle: I got him.
I'll stick with him.
Pride: I'll head up Camp.
He's turning off Magazine onto 4th.
Pride: I got him!
(tires screeching)
(sirens approaching)
Hands on the steering wheel!
Please, please, you can't be here. Get out of the car.
Get out of the car. I can't be seen with you! Please!
Where's your sister, Oliver? Where's Marilyn?
I don't know. I swear.
Then why were you running, huh? And why didn't you mention you went to her home yesterday?
Please go away. They're watching.
Who? Who's watching?
Marilyn's been kidnapped.
They said they'd hurt her if I talked to the police.
That's why I lied.
I have 24 hours to pay them $3 million, or they're gonna k*ll her.
Oliver, I'm...
I'm in trouble.
They've k*lled William.
Oliver, please, just... pay them and they say they'll let me go.
I know that things have not been the best between us, but, Oliver, please, just give them whatever they want so they don't k*ll me.
That's a first for me.
So her brother Oliver got a text message with a video attached?
You can do pretty much anything on the Internet these days.
We'll trace the text, but my guess is it's from a burn phone.
All right.
We got 22 hours.
Broaden the search.
Reach out to local PDs, sheriff departments-- their jurisdiction, but we got a dog in this fight.
And we need to clone Oliver's phone before he leaves, so any new texts or calls from the kidnapper come in to us at the same time.
Look at this.
See that mark on her cheek?
Is that a bruise?
She may have been hit.
All right, ask Sebastian to go over the video pixel by pixel.
Look for... anything that might give us a clue where she's at. Audio, too.
Might hear something.
Now that we know the m*rder is part of a kidnapping, maybe we should circle back around Reed's neighborhood, see if we can get who was coming and going, who had access.
Go. Now. Learn things.
Press is gonna eat this up.
High profile, high society victim.
Get ahold of Fornell in DC.
Tell him if he'll allow us to borrow his FBI expertise, I got a muffuletta with his name on it waiting for him.
(sighs)
I have to pay them, right?
I mean, they're dangerous.
They k*lled my brother-in-law.
We're bringing in the FBI.
They'll help us decide the best course of action.
But once you hand over the money, you've given away the only leverage that you have.
I need to see her again.
I'm gonna pay the ransom.
I j... I just...
I'll pay them and they'll let Marilyn go.
All right, just... hold on, hold on.
Who's handling the money for you?
Bernard Lanier, the attorney who administers my family trust. Why?
Be all right if I talked to him?
If you think that would help.
Lanier: I hope this doesn't sound, um, inappropriate, but... are you sure this kidnapping is legitimate?
The Huntington trust was set up so Oliver would only get payments every five years, rather than all the money at once. And, uh, over the years, Oliver's come to me with many... mmm, interesting stories, trying to get early access to the funds.
We've got William Reed's body in the morgue, Mr. Lanier. I can assure you he's not a figment of our imagination.
Marilyn's husband is dead? I'm sorry. I-I didn't know.
Lasalle: We appreciate you talking to us again. We're looking for any info you have on who might have had access to the house. You see anybody you don't trust?
Well, the gardener comes weekly, pest control is monthly. And they like bottled water, so that gets delivered the third Tuesday of the month. Oh! There is a new trainer. Rance, which I don't think is a name. It's more like a salad dressing. If anything happened, he'd be the first person I'd call.
Why is that?
He just acts peculiar around Marilyn. You know, stalker potential.
How often is Rance in?
Twice a week, 4:00 p.m., sometimes on the weekends, and sometimes... after hours.
Sebastian?
Yeah, right here.
Anything on the body?
Hmm. I was hoping I'd find something on the victim that could benefit Pride in identifying the kidnappers. Unfortunately, I'm coming up empty-handed .
I'm not. Check this out. I'm using a new ultra-high resolution scanner to go through this footage with a fine-tooth comb.
Do you know what that is?
Peeling paint.
Oh.
A layer of yellow under light blue, primed by an old base coat of leaded eggshell.
Oh, and that bruise on her face-- it's actually a hive.
Apparently, she's got a laundry list of allergies.
I've requested a copy of her medical records.
Her hive, or urticaria, appears to be in the early stages due to the absence of plaques.
See what happens is, when, uh, blood plasma leaks out of the small blood vessels, in response to histamine, what happens is...
Thank you, Sebastian, but I'm tight with all the histamines.
Tell me, could I use this machine on Chief Warrant Officer Reed?
Pan and scan the dead?
It's creepy, but cool.
Bring that gizmo into the other room.
Awesome. His follicles will be colossal.
It'll be like human cave spelunking.
Dinner at August and Cochon.
Don't forget chicken from Willie Mae's.
Let it be known that you are not a complicated man, Tobias.
I always think better when my stomach's full.
Thank you for coming.
Where are we on the clock?
A little over seven and a half hours to go.
Senior FBI Agent Tobias Fornell, Special Agent Meredith Brody.
Of course you know Lasalle.
Christopher.
Agent Fornell.
Nice to finally meet you in person.
I've heard good things about you.
Yeah, we've all heard good things about her.
You need to stop right now.
Any update on the personal trainer?
Lasalle: Yeah, we tracked down his cell phone record.
He calls Marilyn three times a day.
Taking into account that he is a trainer, slash nutritionist, slash life coach, that's a lot. And look at this.
Pride: Rance declared bankruptcy a month ago.
Money must be tight.
Who hires a personal trainer in New Orleans?
All you people do around here is sweat.
Sounds like he's got a motive.
Sounds like a reason to pick him up.
Look, I don't have to tell you guys anything.
It's called “trainer-client privilege.”
Really? I never heard of that.
Sorry. I-I didn't have time for lunch today.
(sighs)
What's with the cupcake?
Brody found a couple of videos on Rance's YouTube channel.
Apparently, he used to have a weight problem, and cupcakes were his Kryptonite.
Ooh.
(phone ringing)
Psychological t*rture. Fun.
Look, I've told you all the places I've been.
I have a schedule. It's the same thing every day.
So... your business hit a bit of a rough patch, right?
Which is why you're declaring bankruptcy?
I overextended, that's all.
So, you've taken on a very specific clientele.
You become their confidant, they trust you.
You have sex with them, break up their marriages, and then ask for their money.
My job is to make them feel better about themselves.
Marilyn wasn't interested.
Marilyn loved her husband.
And that made you mad.
(scoffs)
And you're so desperate, right now, for money.
You are dead wrong!
Marilyn's husband is the one who's dead.
Sit!
Rance: Lady, I swear to you, I can't help you.
I wish to God I could.
It's not him.
Agreed.
Linguistic analysis of the ransom text indicates that the kidnapper was likely a well-educated man raised in the South, meticulous, patient... Which is not Rance.
Text also contains sociolinguistic clues, which indicate that the writer is Caucasian, has more than a six-figure income.
All this from 36 words?
Well, 99% of American English is pretty much used the same.
It's the remaining one percent that contains the variables used in linguistic profiling.
Lasalle: Geolocators on Rance's cell validate his story.
He wasn't anywhere near her house.
NOPD's running down pest control and the gardener.
Ransom text was from a burner phone.
It was only turned on long enough to ping one tower near Canal.
Kidnapper's not making mistakes.
And time is running out.
(phone beeping)
Loretta.
(door opens)
Need some good news, Loretta.
Using Sebastian's scanner, I took extra care in studying Reed's dermis.
Around the cuticles, I found something growing.
That sounds unappealing.
Aquatic fungi.
It's from sweet bay magnolias.
Unusual to the region, not evident where the body was found, but, according to a dear friend who's a botanist at the National Park Service, not impossible.
I took the fungi information, together with the satellite imagery.
Was able to create a map narrowing Chief Warrant Officer's entry site into the river to an area of about a thousand yards.
E-mailed it to you and cc'd Lasalle and Brody.
Loretta, you are the best.
Ooh, and so it is written.
Brody: It's fall.
Why is it so hot?
Is the weather making you homesick for the Great Lakes?
In the Midwest, we have winters.
Ever get a taste of one?
In New Orleans Vice, I learned to shovel with the best of' em.
I ain't shoveling snow, too.
Mexico.
Logan told you about our vacation to Cancun, didn't he?
Look, if I hadn't have eaten the tequila worm, I would have...
Lasalle: Heads up.
If Doc Wade's right, and Reed was nearby, it's possible the folks in that house saw something.
All right, let's go.
Man: Guess you missed the “no trespassing” signs.
Hands up! Turn around!
We're federal agents.
I'm gonna reach into my front pocket and pull out an I.D.
So you can do what, show me some phony badge you bought on eBay?
The badges are real. So are the g*ns we're carrying.
Don't get all bowed up.
Man: Bowed up?
Where are you from?
'Bama.
That explains why you walked past my signs.
Couldn't read 'em.
Lasalle: All right, how about this?
You reach into my front pocket and pull out my I.D.
That way you know I'm not pulling any tricks on you.
How do you feel about Alabama now?
“Albert Fontenot.”
I know my rights! You don't have a warrant!
Sorry, “koonyon,” the whole rights thing went out the window once you pulled a g*n.
House is remote. Good hiding place.
I've got nothing to hide.
(inhales)
Man's got hooch breath.
Where is it, brother?
Where is what?
No wonder you don't like visitors.
You can take a case, if you'd like.
It's a smooth, clear IPA with faint citrus, honey flavor notes and a dry finish.
Don't dress it up.
It's still moonshine. It's my passion.
You pay taxes on your passion?
Ask my accountant.
How long you lived in this house?
I rented the place six months ago.
What the hell is going on here?
No sign of Marilyn here.
House is clean.
I did find something by the river, though.
Don't you go anywhere.
Oh, yeah, sure. D-Don't mind me.
I'm totally comfortable here.
Lasalle: Heel marks are dug in.
Someone was dragged into the water.
Look.
Color is consistent with Reed's uniform.
I think we found our point of entry.
Well, if we did, we didn't just stumble upon it.
You don't just dump a body here by chance.
Whoever did this knows the area.
I wonder who owns the property.
Let's find out.
Here's the information on that property.
Oliver financed it through the trust, purchased a year ago, recently rented to the moonshiner.
Do you have any news about my sister?
Not yet, but we have some evidence that might help. We need you to come down and take a look at it.
Okay.
Oliver: I don't care what the deed says! I-I-I...
I don't know a thing about it!
Your name is right here.
For God's sake's, why are you interrogating me?
You should be out looking for my sister.
Brody: How's your cash flow these days, Mr. Huntington?
Fornell: You went to your attorney and asked him to accelerate your next trust payment.
He said no. Maybe you went looking for another way.
You're suggesting since I'm not good at budgeting...
I-I k*lled my brother-in-law and I kidnapped my sister.
(phone rings)
(phone beeping)
New deadline.
60 minutes left.
We're wasting time. Please.
Be a neat trick to text himself when he was with us.
And he didn't know he was gonna be with us.
(taps glass)
Brody: Hold on. We'll be back.
Who brokered Oliver's purchase of the house and property?
Well-educated man, grew up in the South, meticulous, patient, six-figure income.
Bet it was... Bernard Lanier.
Brody: So this is the land contract for the property rented by Mr. Mensa Moonshiner.
The property Oliver claims not to know anything about?
Signature on the top is supposed to be Oliver's, on the bottom, the lawyer's.
So what am I looking for here, besides some char-grilled oysters?
Look at the “n” in Bernard and the “n” in Huntington.
They are identical.
You're damn right they are.
Stay in your office, please, sir.
NCIS, Mr. Lanier.
NCIS! Open up!
(g*nsh*t)
(people screaming, murmuring in distance)
Lanier always had access to the accounts, but with the kidnapping, he could empty them and it wouldn't be suspicious.
Huntington's money is gone as of 30 seconds ago.
And now, the only one who can lead us to Marilyn... is dead.
Let us know if you find anything, Sheriff.
(Sheriff speaks indistinctly over phone)
Come on, now, we got a woman tied up, God knows where.
No idea if she's got food or water or even air-- where we at?
NOPD came up empty at both Lanier's house and office.
Whatever he knew, he took to the grave with him.
Lanier's cell phone activity coming in hot.
Brody: Link just showed up.
Nothing worth mentioning.
How about the GPS on his car?
Same as his phone-- nothing.
Pull up the list of all the properties that Lanier bought for Huntington and make me a map.
I got Lanier and Huntington's properties showing up on satellite imagery.
Brody, help analyze these.
We tracked the money-- all over the globe.
It's still bouncing around.
I figured.
He knew we would try and track the ransom.
Made it impossible for us to follow.
Worth a sh*t.
(phone beeping)
Sebastian.
Talk to me, Sebastian.
I don't know if this helps, but the audio analysis on the ransom video picked up sprinklers.
That's it?
Well, they're a particular sprinkler, more like a mister that's used at plant nurseries.
Or a greenhouse.
Thanks, Sebastian. One of his properties has several greenhouses.
One of Marilyn's allergies was flowers, right?
And dander from three different flowers-- daisies, orchids and sunflowers.
Lanier had orchids in his office.
Get the address for that greenhouse.
You sure that's it?
No time for sure anymore.
She's gotta be here somewhere.
Hundred-meter perimeter search.
All of it. Go.
(muffled screaming, sobbing)
(indistinct police radio chatter)
Uh, I got you some, uh...
Thank you.
Yeah.
He was, um... he was so brave, Oliver.
William, he, um... he fought really hard.
How is it that he could survive two tours at w*r only to die over... what, money?
I'm sorry.
Come here.
Fornell: Okay to start talking about eating again?
I believe so.
Where do you want to start?
Well, we start at the top of my demand list, then we work our way down.
You're gonna cost me a fortune, aren't you?
Too bad Lanier didn't transfer you all that money.
(short chuckle)
What is it, Dwayne?
If you're gonna k*ll yourself... why bother transferring the money?
Need a hand with your luggage?
Special Agent Pride.
Are you here for the fishing?
No, I am not.
Nobody was supposed to be hurt.
But William came home early?
It wasn't my idea.
It was Bernard's.
He had the gambling problem.
And you worked in the casino.
(sighs)
You have to understand, Bernard-- he fell for me hard.
He suggested the kidnapping, he did all of the planning-- if anything, I'm also a victim.
A victim with a couple million dollars.
Waiting.
Where?
Costa Rica? Bermuda?
I'm guessing that bandage is from travel vaccines.
You know...
I don't need all the money.
Maybe just half.
You don't need any of it where you're going.
All right...
Lasalle, I'm done with this game.
You're gonna tell me the story and you're gonna tell me now.
Okay.
Logan didn't tell me anything.
I made it all up.
(laughing)
For an interrogator, you got got.
Aw, come on. I feel bad, having all this fresh Intel.
I should offer you something.
Really? Like what?
Okay, so...
I dated this girl in college and she had a weird thing for men who wore skirts.
Really?
Yeah.
I-I put on this miniskirt...
Okay! Okay, you can just stop right here.
Well, I want to make this right.
I... I'm sure you do.
And I just want to remind you that one of the tools of a great interrogator is to make your subject feel like he's in control, when really, you are.
Guess who I had breakfast with right before you told me you knew this great secret about me?
Logan?
And guess who told me he ran into you the night before and didn't say squat?
Logan again?
And guess whose stories all that Intel you thought you got over the past few days was what falls out of the backside of a bull.
Ex-vice guy, you got got.
This ain't over.
Winner, winner, chicken dinner.
Hah!