Transcripts - Forever Dreaming

My name is Brian Finch. I was your average 28-year-old screwup until I took a pill called NZT. Suddenly I had access to every brain cell.

Every time he takes it, for the next 12 hours, he basically becomes the smartest person in the world.

Brian: And that's why the FBI hired me.

My name's Brian Finch, this is Rebecca Harris, and we're with the FBI.

God, that sounds cool.

There's just one problem. NZT will k*ll you, unless you have this sh*t.

Now you can have as much NZT as you want with no side effects.

Why would you help me?

Let's just say I need somebody in your position.

If you describe to the FBI or anyone about these sh*ts...

I will let you die more painfully and slowly than you can fathom.

So, Brian, you ready to become somebody who matters?

Previously on Limitless...

I think my father was on NZT that night.

My name's Sands. I'm your new boss.

You belong to Mr. Morra now.

Brian?

Shauna!

There are things about my life that I can't tell you about.

Sands: There is no one you call family or friends who I can't touch.

Brian?

Brian?

Brian: Had to, uh, break off... things with Shauna.

She didn't take it very well.

I think I hurt her pretty bad.

(dance music blaring, partiers chattering)

Brian: Now, in a certain light, this all looks pretty glamorous.

But when you're walking up to a place like this on NZT, everything looks different.

Almost everyone in this line, me included, has a hole to fill; a void.

I lost Shauna.

I can't be with anyone.

(unlatching velvet rope)

Am I proud of what I do to fill that void?

No.

But I mean, come on... I'm not St. Brian.

But honestly, when NZT turns hooking up into an algorithm, the fun wears off... and a meaningless one-night stand is ultimately... meaningless.

Who knew?

Your mind starts to crave more.

So, I poked around.

I started e-mailing back and forth with some very interesting people.

There's Nina, who has some truly fascinating ideas about why quantum particles change form when someone observes them.

Then there's John.

He's working on a drug that alters the way we all perceive time.

I mean, if you could make ten minutes feel like an entire day, what would you do with the extra hours?

Oh! And Arthur... he claims he's one breakthrough away from being able to double a mouse's lifespan by mutating its genes.

The limits of what we know...

That's something you can get lost in.

That's a way to take your mind off a broken heart.

(sighs) Good morning, everyone.

Take a seat, Finch.

I've decided... to read you into your first confidential case.

You will be given a temporary top secret clearance.

Okay, just out of curiosity, is that the highest there is?

Am I higher than Boyle?

Naz: You will have access to knowledge that, if applied improperly, would leave you vulnerable to charges of treason.

You know, I need to know that you understand this and take it seriously, and that T-shirt isn't helping.

Uh, well, I'll tell you this much.

I don't want to go to jail, so... I'm good.

Look, I appreciate the show of confidence.

All right, seriously. What's up?

Rebecca: Our intelligence branch is building a case against a man named Mao Zhang.

He's a Chinese immigrant, and he's a top engineer at Miller-Bluett Technologies, a very important defense contractor.

Zhang has access to specs for all kinds of drones, cloaking tech.

This is sensitive technology.

A few months back, the CIA intercepted a Chinese drone that was fitted with Miller-Bluett's specs.

Our people zeroed in on Zhang, but they haven't been able to find hard evidence he's been selling intel.

They want our help.

Ooh. Okay, I got it.

Please don't spill coffee on the top secret file.

Spy stuff. This is so bad-ass, guys. All right.

Where do you want me to start?

Okay.

You want me to dig through his garbage?

It's an important part of counterespionage. (flies buzzing)

We've been collecting Zhang's garbage from the city for over a month now.

You won't be the first to go through it, but you'll be the first to go through it on NZT.

You're not on litter duty, though?

Surveillance.

Congratulations on your new clearance.

(flies buzzing)

Brian: Once you get over the ick factor, you can actually learn a lot about someone by what they throw away.

Zhang might be an amazing engineer, but he's vain about going gray.

He's got a gleaming white smile.

And even though he's lactose intolerant, he consumes organic milk by the bucket-load.

Which is weird, right?

Every carton of milk Zhang threw away has those scratches down the side.

They're combinations of numbers... and when you put them together in the right combination, they add up to measurements.

Okay.

He's passing schematics for some kind of drone.

You just drew this blueprint?

It's only partial, but if we've been taking his garbage, the people he's giving these specs to haven't been getting new information.

Odds are they know he's being watched, and they've changed up the delivery method.

This isn't enough to make an arrest.

There's no evidence of sale or exchange.

But it's more than enough to get a warrant for a covert search of Zhang's place.

And we're basically positive he's a spy.

This is huge, Brian.

Finch.

(phone chimes)

Huh.

It's this guy Arthur I've been talking to.

He thinks I helped him create an immortal mouse.

Man: Tithonus.

Isn't he beautiful?

The adjustments you gave me... they were brilliant.

How long have you been working with telomeres?

Uh, I don't work with telomeres.

I just kind of took a sh*t in the dark, I guess.

Do you understand what you've done?

Telomeres hold our genes together.

Every time our bodies produce cells, they wear down.

Eventually, so do we.

For now, anyway.

I gave this mouse a gene therapy based on your input, and if I'm right, he's going to live up to two months longer.

Cool.

Two months... is that a big deal?

That is an entire standard deviation.

If we could apply this therapy to humans, we could expect to live another 20 to 30 years. Think about that.

You made it possible.

Although I do have to say...

You're different than I expected you to be.

Your e-mails are always... so articulate.

Yeah, uh, just kind of depends on the time of day.

You see, if we do apply this therapy to humans...

Brian: Was he a genius, or just a crazy guy in Queens?

Off NZT, it's really hard for me to tell.

I'd like to think he's a genius.

Arthur: other biological problems occur.

(siren wails in distance)

Sands: Did you know your flat was bugged?

How did you get in here?

Tech's four years old, so you can give the FBI the benefit of the doubt and assume it was installed for a prior resident.

What do you want, Sands?

Sit.

It's time to make yourself useful.

We know quite a lot about N-Zed-T our side of the fence.

FBI's playing catch-up.

We're curious how that's working for them.

I want you to find out exactly what they know, and bring it to me.

This for you, or for Senator Morra?

That's not a distinction you need concern yourself with.

Why does he need to know this?

Brian, you're asking questions.

No.

This is a bad idea.

We should wait.

They're just starting to trust me.

When Mr. Morra gave you that sh*t to make you immune to the side effects of the pill, he told you it comes with an expiration date.

You're gonna need a booster.

Shortly.

Or... your life's gonna take a nasty turn.

Brain damage, blackouts, psychosis.

When you bring me those files... all of them...

Then and only then will you get your next sh*t.

Your liquor cabinet's crap, mate.

(glass clunks on table)

Sort it out.

You've got three days.

(door closes)

Brian: So Sands wants me to get the NZT files...

That are locked in a safe in Naz's office.

I mean, come on.

Hey.

Hey.

You okay?

Yeah. Of course. Why?

You're just kind of standing here.

I just came through Security.

There's someone here to see you named Arthur Maciel.

Seems kind of agitated.

Huh.

(panting)

He's gone. Tithonus is gone.

Your mouse?

(groans) He's gone.

Somebody broke into my place last night.

And I think they tried to get into my computers, but the security's too tight. So, I don't know, they took him.

Okay. Well, you've got your notes, right?

Just make another one.

That's not the point.

If the people who stole him know what they're doing, they can reverse-engineer my work.

The gene therapy inside that animal is worth hundreds of millions of dollars.

Maybe billions.

Wow.

And now he has it.

"He"?

A long time ago, I had a-a business partner, Paul Wilkerman.

We started a biotech company called Claxion together.

You cofounded Claxion?

Yeah, it was in a garage back then, but yeah.

Our visions didn't align, so he bought me out.

For... (clears throat) $19,000.

You see, Paul, over the years, he's been...

(wry laugh) less than gracious about my original contributions to Claxion.

So after this breakthrough, I...

I wrote him an open letter and posted it on a message board.

I may have boasted a little bit.

Arthur... (scoffs) if you posted about your breakthrough on a message board, anyone could have read that, man.

Yeah, maybe. But who could move so fast?

You see, he's built his career on the original sin of convincing the world that I am not to be taken seriously.

(knocking) Yeah.

Okay, look, I gotta go right now, but, um, I'll look into it.

This is... it's my life's work.

Don't let him take that from me.

All right. All right.

I'll look into it.

(groans)

Let's get researchin'.

The FBI put me on finding avenues to nail Zhang, but I couldn't help thinking about Arthur.

You're procrastinating. Believe me, I've been there.

Sands gave me three days to dig up some files.

If I were you... and I pretty much am...

I'd be figuring out how to get inside that safe.

Naz is the Special Agent in Charge of the Cross Jurisdictional Command, all right?

I can't just break into her office.

It's treason. They throw you in supermax prison for that.

And what about Rebecca?

She stuck her neck out for me to get this job.

What happens to her if I get caught stealing national secrets?

So don't get caught. Because as bad as you think this option might be, I assure you... the other one is way worse.

But you can get into that safe.

It's possible to make fake fingerprints. Remember?

You're gonna want to press the silicone into the pane of glass with your index finger...

Aah! Boom. Told you. You owe me 50 bucks.

You need to make a shopping list.

Cyanoacrylate, molds, gel.

Mike and Ike don't follow me when I'm not on the pill.

I'll go tonight.

Now all you need is your boss's fingerprints and you got it.

She's always drinking green tea.

(toy squeaks)

Naz: So you're the one stealing my tea.

It's fine, Brian. The government pays for it.

It's for everyone. I'm just surprised.

You don't seem like one for healthy habits.

Oh, what, are you kidding me?

I'm gonna live forever with this stuff.

Man: Ma'am. They're back from the break-in at Mao Zhang's.

Rebecca: Tactical just got back from searching Zhang's home.

Anything promising?

It's hard to say.

All the documents we photographed are in Chinese.

We've got his hard drives. Scans of everything in his safe.

If there was something compromising in Zhang's house, we got it.

We're heading down to Forensics now. We'll organize everything we pulled.

You will have plenty of stuff to go through in the morning.

(sighs)

(horn honking, siren wailing in distance)

Woman: Ms. Harris.

I'm sorry for the ambush.

My name is Beth Gunther.

I was just leaving you a note.

I was your father's dealer.

I-I beg your pardon?

(sighs) Sorry.

I sold his paintings.

As far as I knew, my father stopped painting after he lost his job at UNC.

I didn't realize he was still working until he...

I'm sorry for your loss.

Conrad was renting a studio in Bushwick.

Given his history, he needed me to cosign the lease.

The landlord touched base with me a while back.

He was cleaning the place out, and he found three finished canvases.

They pass on to you, of course.

I'm having a show next week. I could sell them if you want.

But, really, I thought you might want them.

You don't have to tell me now.

Thank you for stopping by, but... you can sell the paintings.

Are you sure?

If my father wanted me to know about his art, then he would have told me.

In case you change your mind.

Wake up.

(groans) Ike.

Not my name.

Come on. Agent Harris wants you in Riverside Park.

Hey, I got a question for you.

How do you and Mike decide who comes over here?

Do you play rock-paper-scissors?

Get up. Let's move.

Rebecca: I got in this morning, and I saw the NYPD had put out a BOLO for a name that sounded familiar.

Earlier this morning, a man named Paul Wilkerman was running in the park when someone stabbed him to death.

Paul Wilkerman?

Chairman and CEO of Claxion. NYPD found prints at the scene.

They're pretty sure they belong to the k*ller.

They match a man named Arthur Maciel.

What?

They arrested him an hour ago, and a detective said he's asking for you.

I don't know what Arthur was so upset about when he came to see you yesterday, but this morning, it looks like he m*rder*d Wilkerman.

I didn't do this. You have to believe me.

They found your fingerprints on Paul Wilkerman's corpse.

They can fake those.

I've been set up. This whole thing, it's a trap designed by someone very, very clever.

Lay out the steps.

Steal the mouse to give me motive.

Get rid of Paul and then put my fingerprints there.

Please.

I don't have any money to hire an expensive attorney.

The one they sent over, she already told me to take a plea.

I don't know, Arthur.

Maybe you should listen to her.

I've spent the last 25 years of my life working without... without credit or even that much money.

The only goal I had was to help people.

If you want... want to know who k*lled Paul Wilkerman... find the mouse.

Find...

Tithonus.

Brian: Hey.

Yeah.

What if Arthur Maciel is innocent?

Do you have reason to believe he's innocent?

He came to the FBI looking for help.

Then he k*lled the guy less than 24 hours later?

It's just weird. And, plus, he doesn't seem like a m*rder*r to me.

Well, in that case, I guess I would have to tell you that the m*rder of Paul Wilkerman is an NYPD investigation.

And the FBI shouldn't have an opinion one way or the other.

Okay. Good talk.

However... last night, our translators figured out that Mao Zhang has been corresponding with a high-level Chinese operative named Lin.

Now, there's a Kevin Lin who grew up one town away from Zhang.

He has a degree in aerospace engineering, he served in the Chinese m*llitary, and he moved to New York six years ago.

So you think he's Zhang's handler?

He could be. Boyle and I are gonna be all over it.

But the Bureau thinks there's an off-chance that Kevin Lin isn't the Lin we're looking for.

They want you to comb through all of the Lins in the tristate area.

How many Lins are there?

A little under 40,000.

Now, you can do that, or...

I have contacts at NYPD.

I could have them send over whatever they have on Paul Wilkerman's m*rder.

Seriously?

You're telling me to blow off the work the FBI gave me?

I'm telling you to prioritize.

On one hand, 40,000 people named Lin.

On the other, someone who's been accused of a m*rder you think he didn't commit.

Okay.
Brian: I ignored the files on Mao for a couple of hours and decided to look at the NYPD stuff.

Arthur's fingerprints were all over the scene of Paul Wilkerman's m*rder, but someone else's DNA was there, too.

Paul scratched his attacker.

There was dried blood under his fingernails, and it wasn't Arthur's.

And t didn't match anyone from the ViCAP database.

Whatever that is.

That scrap of paper from Paul's wallet, there's blue ink under there.

Why'd he cross it out?

Username: wilkermanp and a bunch of numbers.

Password: sandcastle92, with two "at" signs.

Why did Paul Wilkerman have an e-mail account he didn't want anyone to know about?

So, you know about Paul Wilkerman already.

He's very accomplished, very rich.

If you're looking for people who might have k*lled him, the natural place to start is with the people who stood to inherit all that money, right?

Well, that turned out to be a total bust, because six months ago, Paul Wilkerman wrote an op-ed saying he no longer believes in the concept of inherited wealth.

He pledged his entire fortune to five different charities, so, that's a no-go.

But Paul Wilkerman kept the details of a non-Claxion e-mail account in his wallet.

I checked the user name and password against common domain names.

Soon enough, I was in.

Now, Wilkerman used that account to write back and forth with a man named Alan Carverton.

He's the Executive Director of Research at Claxion.

He used a non-work account to communicate with his own executive?

Weird, right? And after Arthur posted his big breakthrough online, Paul Wilkerman and Alan Carverton sent 27 e-mails back and forth to each other.

I mean, Wilkerman wanted to know why his head of research was so far behind Arthur.

So, you think this guy Carverton stole the mouse, k*lled Wilkerman, and then framed Arthur?

Congratulations. You've got yourself a suspect.

What are you gonna do about it?

I don't know.

Um, Mike and Ike supervise me while I'm on NZT.

That sounds really daunting.

You're telling me to ditch these guys.

(laughing): What is with you?

If Maciel's innocent, I don't want to see him going away for m*rder any more than you do.

As long as you're here when I need you, and you're not hurting anyone, then, I've got your back.

Thanks.

Uh, one quick question before you go.

Who is Beth Gunther?

Your dad made that?

I helped him mix the paint.

I think it's my favorite thing he ever did.

Wow.

He was really good.

Yeah, he always was.

Even after he started sh**ting up in our bathroom every morning.

I hate what he did, and I hate that he d*ed because of it, but what happened to him is not going to define me.

But you kept that business card.

I did.

I think my father was taking NZT before he got k*lled, so... if he was finally painting again, that's why.

And I shouldn't care.

Did you ever tell the people here that he was using NZT?

Based on what?

That he had a glimmer in his eyes?

I don't know.

If my dad was gone... and I learned there was something out there he had made, I don't think I could ignore it.

So if Alan Carverton k*lled Paul Wilkerman, that means he has Arthur's mouse.

Which means it's in the labs at Claxion.

And if I'm going to get there, I've got to ditch...

Mike and Ike.

Mike... four years defensive line at Illinois.

Possible Special Forces-type k*lling machine.

Real name: unknown.

Ike... two tours of duty in Afghanistan.

Good with knives. Maybe.

Real name... heard it once, don't remember.

(whistle) Sorry to interrupt.

Have you maybe gone maybe a little nuts?

Naz is leaving her office, right now, as we speak.

The clock is running.

You do not have enough room on your to-do list to help Arthur Maciel.

There are still two days left.

And besides, Rebecca just, you know, confided in me.

I can't steal files from her boss's office right now.

So, it'll be easier to betray her later then?

I don't... I'll figure something out, okay?

Now are you gonna help, or are you gonna sit there and be annoying?

Look, if you just want to get past Mike and Ike, it's not that hard.

Just leave your phone behind when you get in the elevator.

sh**t! Forgot my phone!

Take the stairs, and you're out.

Get your hands on a Claxion I.D., and you're in.

Hey, buddy, I'm selling Girl Scout cookies for my niece.

Just trying to raise enough money to buy a pony.

Sorry. We don't need. We don't need, okay?

Can I put you down for a couple boxes? No?

(beep)

(whistles)

(whispers): Lost and found.

(mice squeaking)

Okay, so, Tithonus, the maybe-immortal mouse...

He's brindle, so he should stand out.

(quietly): You guys seen a brown mouse, but... maybe...

He's not here.

Hey.

What are you doing in here?

Uh, Bruce from upstairs wanted to make sure we didn't leave the, uh, aerosol nebulizer on in the induction chamber.

(alarm sounding)

Oh, not cool!

Woman (over P.A.): Security has been breached.

Take necessary steps to secure priority data, labs and materials.

Attention: security has been breached.

(elevator bell chimes, man talking)

to protect your priority data...

Boyle: Ah, that's it.

That's the dead drop.

If Kevin Lin is really Mao's contact in the Chinese government, he's gonna be along sooner or later.

Then we can arrest them both.

(phone ringing)

Hey.

I'm inside Claxion right now.

I don't think Alan Carverton k*lled his boss.

He doesn't have the mouse, anyway.

Okay.

Uh, there's a little bit of a security situation.

Apparently, they're very paranoid about industrial espionage here.

They got the building on lockdown.

You set off an alarm?

I didn't set off the alarm.

The research assistant who didn't like me did.

Brian, you're on NZT.

Are you seriously telling me you can't get out of an office building? (mice squeaking)

Well, um, I just freed all their lab mice, so they're all busy chasing their research around the building.

But, um, yeah...

They've covered all the exits.

There's no way out of here right now.

Unless...

We have two SWAT teams covering here, right?

Yeah. Why?

(alarm continues sounding)

Get this one...

Rebecca Harris, FBI.

Claxion pulled us in because they think whoever's in the building is after government research.

(sirens wailing in distance)

Brian?

If anyone stops us on the way out, you're my cyber consultant.

And Brian, when I said I would have your back, I didn't mean breaking and entering.

Next time, don't set off the alarm.

So, she saved my ass, and walked me out of that building.

And how am I gonna repay her?

Not just your garden-variety betrayal. Nope.

High treason for me.

I mean, it doesn't have to be that way.

You definitely have to lie to someone, but you can choose who that is.

I'm not sure why you'd pick the one person who's looking out for you.

He was right. Or I was right. Whatever.

Sands doesn't know what's in the FBI files on NZT.

So, how would he know if he's getting real files?

I didn't take NZT until 10:30 that morning, so I had some time to work with.

I made up a fake history of NZT in the FBI, based on speculation and guesswork.

Was it convincing?

I think so.

I hope so.

You weren't followed?

I don't think so?

I was expecting Sands.

You have something for us?

Look, I don't know if this is everything the FBI knows about NZT, but this is what my boss had in her office.

We'll be in touch.

Brian: Hey. What's going on in there?

Rebecca: Kevin Lin came by the dead drop in Central Park this morning.

That was him.

And Zhang tried to flee, but we picked him up at the airport.

He's on his way in now.

Amazing. Well done.

Hey, I think I have something on your thing with the mouse.

Yeah.

You gave me that list of charities yesterday.

The ones that Paul Wilkerman was gonna leave his money to?

One of them was the International Relief Fund?

Yeah, that's right.

They were in the paper this morning.

Paul Wilkerman pledged to give them one fifth of his fortune, but they're learning that the changes in his will were never ex*cuted.

So they're out hundreds of millions of dollars.

Hundreds of millions of dollars that now go to Wilkerman's kids.

The heirs have motive.

You're welcome.

Just another shift at the genius factory, boys.

I ignored my research assignment and spent the morninglooking into Paul Wilkerman's heirs.

He had six kids by three women.

None of them seem too well adjusted.

Not really a pretty picture.

Of course, if one of them was willing to k*ll their dad to get their hands on his money, they had to be positive he hadn't changed his will yet.

There's only one person who would have known that for sure.

Wilkerman's probate attorney, Raymond Dell.

(phone ringing)

Hey, Mom.

Dad, what happened?

I'm fine. I'm fine. I just...

It's okay. Don't worry.

Yeah, you're not okay. You got admitted to the hospital.

It's nothing that can't be treated.

Don't look at me like that. I have a virus.

Honey, could you give that?

Right, it's called a Cytomegalovirus.

Cytomegalovirus? What is that?

It's something that happens to some transplant patients.

The dr*gs I'm taking suppress my immune system.

It's just a fever. That's all.

That is not what the doctor said.

Okay, they said that it could go into my organs.

They're gonna watch me for a couple of days.

It's just like a flu, Brian.

Yeah, except sometimes it's not.

That's not gonna be me.

It's what happens to transplant patients.

We get sick.

We get sick.

Woman (over P.A.): I.V. Tech to Pedes. Available I.V. Tech to Pedes.

(footsteps approach, chair legs clack)

Sorry to hear about your dad.

CMV.

That can be a nasty diagnosis.

What are you doing here?

I've got to give you credit.

You did a decent job on those files.

I've been handed loads of bollocks in my day.

Yours is truly a cut above.

I want the real files, Brian.

And I want them tomorrow.

That nurse.

You said she was gonna take care of my dad, not make him sick.

Don't blame Sipiwe, mate.

Forget her anyway. She's gone.

Sipiwe didn't do anything. I didn't do anything.

You did.

All you said was you weren't gonna give me another one of those sh*ts.

One of several possibilities.

You did this, Brian.

And for the moment, you have the power to undo it.

If you give me what I ask for, I expect your dad'll be fine.

If you don't... well, who knows how these things turn out?

(Brian sighs heavily)

Brian: I tried to be loyal to the FBI, and now my dad's in the hospital.

I'm making those fingerprint molds, and I am getting into that safe.

Everything good with your dad?

Uh, he's stable, so he should be okay.

Good. Mao Zhang just agreed to make a statement.

Everyone's heading down there. You should come.

You helped make this happen.

I'll be down in a couple minutes.

Naz: Okay, Mr. Zhang. (clears throat)

Whenever you're ready.

My name is Mao Zhang, and I came to this country as a believer in freedom.

I would even call myself a patriot.

How did I become a spy?

It wasn't a big decision I made.

It was more like a series of small decisions I didn't make.

(groans quietly)

Zhang: I ran into Kevin Linat a conference in Berlin.

He shared Chinese technology with me.

It was only later I realized it was bait.

I took money to share the plans for a radar jamming system they had access to anyway. But they used that against me.

It snowballed quickly.

Brian: A few of the letters are more worn down than others.

There's only one word they combine to form.

(whispers): Mercy.

Zhang: By the time I was committing real treason, I didn't have a choice anymore.

I never considered myself a spy.

In fact, I still believe...

I am a patriot.

That the good work I did in my job outweighs the damage from the secret I sold.

You missed it.

You all right today?

Yeah.

Just distracted, you know?

Thinking about my dad.

Where'd you wind up with the Arthur Maciel thing?

(sighing): Arthur...

Would you be willing to run an errand with me?

Excuse me?

Brian: Raymond Dell!

I recognize you from your pictures.

You're Paul Wilkerman's probate attorney.

The super said that you were out here looking through my garbage.

Actually, it's not your garbage anymore, not once you put it out here.

Can I ask why the FBI is looking through my trash?

I'm sure you already know this.

Police found fingerprints from a guy named Arthur Maciel at the scene of your client's m*rder.

They arrested him, but, interestingly, someone else's DNA was found under Paul Wilkerman's fingernails.

And once we realized Wilkerman's kids still stood to inherit the money, we thought maybe it came from one of them.

But the DNA was from a different family line.

You are the only person in the world who controlled whether or not Paul Wilkerman's will was changed to reflect his new thoughts on inherited wealth.

And if you did change it, that means that each of his kids stood to lose...

How much again?

About a billion each.

Ah. This is yours.

Brian: So you could change it, like Paul Wilkerman wanted, and his heirs get nothing.

Or... you sit on it and you put out some discreet feelers to Wilkerman's less savory kids and you offer not to file the papers and you get rid of Daddy.

(chuckles) And better yet, blame it on Daddy's old rival Arthur Maciel.

All in exchange for... what do you think, half?

Sure.

That's ridiculous.

Is it?

You chew your pens. I used to do this.

Probably a good DNA sample here.

Brian: Oh, yeah. Of course... if it is your DNA under Paul Wilkerman's fingernails, we'll know soon enough. Which means you have a very short amount of time to cooperate.

You could start by telling us which of Paul's heirs you were conspiring with.

And I want to know what you did with Arthur's mouse.

I do, too.

(squeaking)

(gasps) Oh, he's alive.

Oh, yeah, of course. Dell kept him safe.

Look, Arthur, if you're right about what your gene therapy did to that mouse, he could be worth a lot of money.

I am right. You did an incredible thing today.

Not just for me. For everyone.

You don't believe me.

(wry chuckle)

I don't know, Arthur.

All I see is a mouse.

Just wait.

You know... even if you're not sure, you still did an incredible thing.

You got me out of prison.

I owe you.

Everything.

Thank you.

Brian: Is he right?

Am I still a good person, even after what I did today?

On the other hand, until I hand this disk off to Sands, I can learn more about NZT.

(indistinct chatter)

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