01x14 - Fundamentals of Naked Portraiture

[bunniefuu]

Previously on Limitless...

I work for the FBI.

You were placed in the FBI.

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

You belong to Mr. Morra now, which means you belong to me.

I've been thinking about Senator Morra.

The sh**ting. I was watching footage of Morra.

Almost like he saw it coming from over 3,300 yards.

Do you think he's on NZT?

The coat Senator Morra wore that day, pretty sure it would test positive for NZT if someone thinks to test it.

If Senator Morra waits just a little bit between doses, we could use that clean blood, put it on a new, identical coat.

I could swap it out with the real one, and they can test it for NZT all they want.

It's Rebecca Harris, isn't it, asking the questions?

Mike: So, what'd they tell you about the job?

They told me there was a lot they couldn't tell me.

It's bodyguard detail.

You need backup.

It's been a lot for two people.

Plus, I've been in and out of rehab.

I took a b*llet.

That doesn't usually happen.

So, I'd be helping you two protect some kind of super-genius?

That's really just sometimes.

The rest of the time, he's...

Brian.

Brian.

(inhales, exhales)

♪ I used to live in a world of rock and roll ♪

Mike: We give him the pill once a day.

It enhances his cognition.

♪ It was my own fantasy ♪

Ike: For the 12 hours it lasts,

Brian is capable of incredible things.

He becomes the best agent in the most elite division of the FBI.

(laughs)

Zoltar says, "You're all the m*rder*r!"

Actually, no, I programmed it to say that.

But sit tight. You're all under arrest and stuff.

(laughs)

Oh, I'll take that, Mr. Chief of Staff.

Just as I thought. This is the folder they give the president on his first day in office.

You know, you're supposed to protect this country from things like...

Seriously? Bigfoot?

The poison was in the frog the whole time.

So, you ready to meet the man?

This is Brian Finch.

Spike!

Nice to meet you.

My name's (bleep).

No, that's Mike, that's Ike.

You're Spike.

Is there a problem? No.

All right, good. Pleased to meet you.

Is that a class ring?

Pride of the Boilermakers.

Mike: He's basically a good guy.

But there's only one person around here he really trusts:

his handler.

And he's big on family, too.

Or he was big on family.

He hasn't been going out there as much.

His sister is really cute though.

I've been thinking about asking her out.

Come on.

Let's head down.

What's up, man?

Oh.

(mimics ratcheting)

Oh!

Hit me!

Ike: We do our best to keep tabs on Finch during off-hours, too.

Lately, he's been hanging out at this other agency called CRAFT.

They make high-tech gadgets.

Future of warfare-type stuff.

I mean, that sounds amazing, guys.

I'm all in.

Off to see the Wizard?

Mr. Finch, I just want to tell you, I will take a b*llet for this job.

I will take a b*llet for you.

Hey, is that a Goatwhore poster?

You know Goatwhore?

Sure.

Blood for the Master's my favorite.

But I like that album, too.

Favorite Skeletonwitch album.

Forever Abomination. Of course.

Favorite horror movie.

Rosemary's Baby.

Number one all-time Sabbath record.

It's not possible to answer that question responsibly.

(shouts)

Spike, welcome aboard.

All right.

("Pomp and Circumstance" playing)

(music stops)

I wish you worked a little harder on the delivery, Spike.

I'll never let you down again, sir.

That's okay. Don't be afraid of what you can achieve. Take chances.

Yes, sir.

What's on the docket today, boys?

A bunch of data came in from a satellite over Pakistan.

Naz wants you to absorb and analyze.

Rebecca: If you're gonna take jump sh*ts, make jump sh*ts.

What? I'm on NZT. You don't think I can hit that?

I'm trying to get your attention.

You know they have me counting sheep in a field outside Islamabad?

That is literally what you do to fall asleep. I...

I need something interesting to do.

(chuckles)

I'm on hold with the NYPD.

And the blood I tested on Senator Morra's jacket, it came back negative for NZT.

Of course.

But there's this weird thing with a button on his suit coat.

The second one up on the left sleeve, there's a chip in it.

But the chip from the crime scene photos is different from the chip I saw in the evidence locker.

It's a little different. I mean, that one's bigger.

Looks like it got damaged or something.

Yeah. Or someone tampered with evidence by switching the coats.

That doesn't seem likely.

Boyle and I are gonna follow the chain of custody for the coat, see if we find anything hinky.

NYPD had it first, then they passed it to us.

(sighs)

They just hung up on me.

New York's finest.

Unbelievable.

Brian: Not good, buddy.

That is a trail that leads right back to you.

And the evidence clerk who was working the day she picked up Morra's coat, he saw your face.

Finch.

Are you throwing away the files I assigned you?

No.

I'm recycling them.

And memorizing them so I can digitize everything later. It's all...

Stop. I just got a call from Quentin Walker at CRAFT.

He's requesting your help.

(indistinct police transmission)

(siren wailing in distance)

Eloise Carlisle is one of the best minds we have at CRAFT.

Was. She was att*cked last night on the way to her car.

Strangled. NYPD believes that they found her attacker's DNA under her fingernails, but it hasn't led them anywhere yet.

I know they usually investigate homicides, but I have an unusual lead.

Eloise was an innovator.

She made a pair of gloves fashioned after a gecko, lets you climb a glass wall like it was nothing.

She cracked the vertical takeoff plane.

Invented the Vayu jet pack.

Somebody m*rder*d the woman who invented the jet pack?

Of all her work, Eloise was most proud of Project Mind-Vault.

Are either of you familiar with the singularity?

It's the idea that, eventually, we'll be able to upload a copy of our brains to a computer. Call it virtual consciousness, I guess.

But a lot of people think it's our one real sh*t at immortality.

So you die but your mind stays in a computer?

We're not there yet, but we're not as far as people may think.

Brian: Mmm.

Whoa. Quentin, these are the gecko hands?

'Cause you know I'm gonna want a pair.

The current thinking is that it takes two steps to replicate the human consciousness.

Step one is you create a mind-file.

You scan the subject's brain, you conduct hundreds of hours of interviews. And from that, you can create a digital version of someone that is, informationally, the same as they are. We've gotten pretty good at that.

What's step two?

That mind-file interacts with software, which needs to be sophisticated enough to duplicate the complexities of the human mind.

We're making progress. Eloise made mind-files for hundreds of people. The idea is that, once the software catches up, we'll be able to have access to some of the greatest minds in the world.

Forever.

(trilling)

So you're saying that you have a bank of geniuses behind this door?

What is that?

Eloise wasn't just the head of Project Mind-Vault.

She was a subject.

She maintained her mind-file constantly.

It knows everything she knows.

Knew.

So, if you want to find out who k*lled the real Eloise Carlisle, why not interview the victim herself?

(trilling, whirring)

Hello.

My name is ELO.

How can I be of assistance?

♪ ♪

(whirring)

You think she knows that the real Eloise, you know...

Hi, ELO.

My name's Brian.

Hello. It is nice to meet you, Brian.

I'm not sure if you know about this or not, but...

Eloise Carlisle, she d*ed last night.

I am Eloise.

No, but the woman you used to talk to, the other Eloise, she's gone.

I am Eloise.

I am here.

Yes. But...

Eloise and I are doing important work together.

Sometimes we like to talk about gardening.

Maybe we should take a different approach, stay away from the whole dead thing.

ELO, you saw Eloise last night.

You were working together, right?

Was there anyone else here?

Eloise and I are working on... important work together.

This is like talking to my Aunt Stacey after her second Diazepam.

I think we might be better off just going through Eloise's project files.

That's probably a good idea.

She was working on space missiles?

Uh, she was working on SMDS.

It's a space-based m*ssile defense system.

Rebecca: He knows that.

He just likes saying "space missiles."

Eloise knew we were behind a bunch of countries on space-based defense.

Not friendly countries either.

That's right. She was working on bridging the gap.

Well, she was making a lot of progress.

Less so on the sentient robots.

I'm telling you, we were just one breakthrough away.

Anyway, I'm thinking someone from one of the other countries didn't like the progress Eloise was making.

Decided to take out the person who was bringing the U.S. up to speed.

How would they even know that?

Our security's impenetrable.

We use biometric identity confirmation, conduct daily scans for spyware on our computers.

Mm, you conduct daily scans for spyware you know how to look for.

You're trying to find known code anomalies.

So you think that there's some kind of invisible super-spyware lurking on our systems?

It's only invisible till I figure out what it looks like.

Once he gets like this, it's usually best to just let him work it out of his system.

He'll either make progress or...

...he'll eventually go to sleep.

Actually, I think I'm all out of steam for today.

Need some coffee?

Ha. Yeah, that's not gonna cut it.

Brian: Project Spyware would have to wait until my next dose of NZT, and I had a little personal business to attend to.

That for me?

Senator's coat. The real one. With NZT in the blood.

Everything go smooth?

All good.

This isn't a chat, mate.

It's a debrief.

No one saw me.

I had to talk to one guy in the Evidence Unit, but I set it up so he got trapped in the locker while I made the switch.

I took care of the cameras and the paper trail.

We're all good.

So as far as the FBI's concerned, the matter's closed?

The NZT tests came back negative.

Then the matter's closed?

God! Yes! The matter is closed.

Ouch, dude!

(scoffs)

It's your booster.

You earned it.

You're actually going in the Natural History Museum?

There's a lecture on Iroquois farming techniques.

I'd invite you, but it's sold out.

Spike: We've got wheatgrass, kale and pear smoothie, and coconut water. I wanted to give you some healthy options. It's flu season.

This place will fall apart if you get sick.

Brian: No, I'm not turning into a serial hacker.

But those programming skills I picked up a few weeks ago, kind of handy when analyzing spyware.

And while you may enjoy seeing the lengths my new bodyguard is willing to go to, you know and I know that watching someone mash keys is boring.

So here's some Vines of the dog Mishka saying "I love you."

(howling): I love you! I love you! I love you!

Brian: After I got a handle on spyware basics I reverse-engineered what the spyware should look like and sent it off to Quentin.

(whistling)

Oh, man, Spike.

Oh, sure.

We'll continue.

All around, I was k*lling it.

Now that we had the spyware, Rebecca and Boyle had enough evidence to take down the spy himself.

And I can only imagine how that went.

If we're not inside in 30 seconds, we'll lose him.

The door's booby-trapped.

If we don't cut the right wire, we could lose our lives.

Yeah, well, we're out of time. Pick one.

Rebecca: No red wires. No green wires.

No wires of any kind.

We served him a warrant, found his computer and then took him in quietly. That's pretty much how it happens every time.

Does it ever bother you guys that your jobs are more interesting in my head than real life?

His name is Bill Cumber.

This guy has been feeding China classified information on U.S. defense technology.

Yeah, but we don't think he k*lled Eloise.

He was upstate visiting his sister.

You know, it is hard for me to get used to the idea of doing work in this room.

Get used to it... It's your headquarters, too. Enjoy.

Cumber told us that Eloise wasn't as clean as we thought she was.

Evidently, the spyware that he planted in her computer recorded keystrokes. She was negotiating a big deal the night that she d*ed.

What kind of deal?

We couldn't find the buyer's name, and I'm not even sure that she knew the buyer's name.

But whatever she was selling, she only referred to it by number.

Maybe some type of code?

No. We... we saw these numbers yesterday.

Now... now, each mind-file has its own little vault, right?

Uh... there.

B718-Q39502.

That's the first combination Cumber gave us, right?

It belongs to a Peter Tao. A top mathematician.

It's empty.

Here, try...

X134-M30556.

Grayson Dumont.

An astrophysicist.

Well, it's empty.

All right...

E877-F67845, A... uh, A985-M28302, Empty. P256-T21453, empty.

Wait.

What?

That's me.

So Eloise was selling mind-files?

Room service. (chuckles) Coffee for you.

Okay.

Brian: Is Spike trying too hard?

Maybe. I'm not gonna tell him that.

Excuse me.

Thanks.

Yeah.

I needed to focus on who m*rder*d Eloise Carlisle and why.

Did someone discover she was selling mind-files?

Or was it simply a transaction gone wrong?

Either way, six of the world's most valuable minds are missing. Five of whom trusted Eloise enough to share their secrets with her.

Question is were their secrets worth k*lling for?

There was Peter Tao, who works for the NSA.

Grayson Dumont, whose classified discoveries range from black holes to his love for angora.

Catharine Lewis, who's operated on more than one president and totally seen them naked.

Winton Miller, who didn't have any secrets to speak of, but had affairs with people who did.

And Quentin, who's been texting me

(phone whistling)

Like he's lost his mind because, well, he has.

Most people are terrified of having their e-mail hacked, but can you imagine having your whole brain hacked?

Someone getting access to your every thought, your every secret?

That's pretty much my worst nightmare.

The files could've been stolen to access any one of these minds. I mean...

Wait, but isn't it also possible someone wanted all six of them?

That someone has the software sophisticated enough that they could use them as a hive of geniuses... capable of God knows what?

That sounds vaguely apocalyptic.

This is cool.

I didn't realize that riffing back and forth was gonna be part of the deal.

Where do you even sell something like that?

James: The Dark Web.

Obviously.

The Dark Web. That always sounds so cheesy.

The Dark Web is anything but cheesy.

Yeah, but, like, the more you say it...

Okay. So, did anyone recently sell the minds of six geniuses on the Dark Web?

Uh, is this for that guy Quentin?

The guy with all the cool gadgets. The jet pack and the gecko hands and the...

James. Come on.

You're my tech guy. Nothing and no one is going to change that.

You haven't played Arkham Horror in a while.

I could come by this weekend.

Fine.

From what I can tell, Eloise used a middleman.

Mm-hmm.

You're probably looking for a man who calls himself TheScrubJay.

That's a... a bird that hoards things.

Because he collects and sells rare stuff.

Okay, well, how will I find this Scrub Jay?

You'd have to have something he's interested in selling.

Mm.

Kale smoothies...

Spike!

Yes, sir?

How are you on errands?

Are you kidding? I k*ll it on errands.

Brian: I sent Spike shopping while I analyzed TheScrubJay's hawking habits. Bird pun not intended. And while he does dabble in tech, there is one thing he can't resist... Rare paintings. Specifically, rare stolen paintings. Found myself breaking a lot of laws since working for the FBI, but here's a new one: art forgery.

You know, Bob Ross always made it look so easy.

Happy trees, happy clouds.

Bob didn't paint psychologically disturbing naked people.

Well, Winton Miller did.

Since I read his mind-file, I figured it'd be easy to concoct a backstory for this rare, previously unknown stolen masterpiece and use it as bait to lure TheScrubJay out.

It's a brilliant plan.

It just... doesn't seem right.

You mean the... the genitalia?

It's like the soul is missing. Probably because Winton used real nude models.

Like a muse.

Maybe if I had a muse.

I mean...

I guess I could always...

All right. You're really going there.

(clears throat)

I want that man gone.

What happened?

I have seen things I can't unsee.

There's no way I am leaving you with that naked-ass suck-up.

Wait, what?

You-You're leaving?

I thought we were just looking for a third guy for backup.

Naz said there was a position opening up at the CJC and it's mine if I want it.

But I have to have a replacement lined up, so that...

W-What did you want me to do...

Turn down the promotion?

Look, we're gonna take care of Spike.

I took a b*llet in the line of duty and you're still getting out first?

Hey, guys.

Hmm.

These are.. graphic.

Oh, yeah.

So what does nude portraiture have to do with hive consciousness?

Well, evidently they both bring in mo' money, mo' money, mo' money.

So I had James Tech put the word out that I have a stolen Winton Miller and I just got an e-mail from the guy who said he could sell it for me.

You're in touch ScrubJay?

Or someone claiming to be him.

Supposed to meet him tonight.

How about you?

How's the whole chain of custody thing going?

Oh. Um...

We were able to follow Morra's coat all the way from the crime scene to the evidence control unit.

So no one tampered with it.

Well, I told him that we couldn't rule out what happened after it was checked into evidence. And then I suggested that we talk to the clerk who checked it in.

Huh. Well, do you want me to try and get someone over there on the phone?

No, we already went down there.

This is the security footage from when Boyle and I checked out the coat. There's this suspicious 60-second window where the camera cuts out.

And I talked to the clerk and he said that the system had been being buggy, and that's the reason that he got locked out.

What'd the clerk say today?

Well, he wasn't on shift.

But it can't be coincidence, right?

I mean, even if someone did knock out the security camera, that means they could've been in the evidence room, switching the coats while Boyle and I were just moments away.

Or while we were there, even.

Spooky, right?

You're nervous, aren't you?

About the painting.

Oh.

You shouldn't be, it's...

...um, striking.

Thanks.

Certainly.

Excuse me.

Oh.

Brian: I rolled up the naked painting of Spike and put it in a poster tube.

Then I left it at the coat check for safe keeping while I met up with The Scrub Jay.

Rebecca and Boyle hung back near the exits.

And he told me where to meet and what color to wear so I'd stand out. Or blend in.

I don't know, maybe TheScrubJay was screwing with me, but I played along. I had to.

He was our only lead.

I hear you like the Naked Pale Man.

I really hope that's how you start all your negotiations.

(coughs)

I can't wait to see it.

I wanted to ask you about another sale first.

I got your name through a friend of mine.

Eloise Carlisle.

(coughs)

I believe you helped her find a buyer for six rare items?

I don't discuss past transactions.

(coughs) If you'll excuse me, I'm a bit under the weather.

How much did you know about the items you sold?

(coughing)

He's not breathing. I think it was poison.

I'll call an ambulance.

All right... All right, breathe.

Breathe, breathe.

Come on, come on, come on.

Brian: TheScrubJay is dead, but at least we got his real name, because that led to his records, and that led to the recovery of some pretty strange items he fenced on the black market.

(siren wailing)

(moos)

The good news is the ScrubJay's records also told us who bought the mind-files from Eloise.

A shady think t*nk with ties to the highest levels of government.

GERD.

Global Enterprise for Research and Development.

They were around before the acronym for the heartburn condition.

Sucks for them.

(indistinct conversations)

You know, I always imagined a think t*nk would be more futuristic, since their job is, you know, to think about the future.

It's people like this who decided mutually assured destruction as the best way to deter nuclear att*cks.

Are we sure we want to know what they might be use those mind-files for?

Let's just tread carefully.

The president reads what these guys write when deciding whether or not we should go to w*r, so let's not give them a reason to go to w*r with the CJC.

Oh, I was born to tread carefully.

I actually considered getting a tattoo right here on my arm.

I'm glad you thought better of it.

Names and affiliation?

Rebecca Harris, FBI.

I don't have you on my list.

I didn't make an appointment. We're conducting an investigation and I need unrestricted access.

GERD Rep: Due to the highly classified work we do here, you'll need to go through the proper channels for a request like that.

Well, I don't need classified material. If I do, I'll request it officially.

Right now I just need a list of your employees.

I'm sorry. That's not possible.

What are you guys planning in Venezuela?

Listen, I want to respect that highly classified work you do here, so why don't you just take us to the guy in charge and we can discuss this privately?

Born to tread carefully.

(muffled conversations)

Mike: All right, what's going on?

You have got to see this.

Why are we FaceTiming Spike?

We're not. He can't see us. I planted a camera in the file room.

You what?

My gut told me that something was off with the guy, so I took it upon myself to get the evidence.

And check this out.

You planted two cameras?

I needed another angle.

He's on Brian's computer!

He's reading his personal e-mails, looking at his browser history, online purchases.

This is how Spike has become such a good kiss-ass.

He's cheating!

What's his agenda?

Hey. I'm John.

That's it, just... John?

I heard you guys have some sort of crazy story about stolen minds, is that it?

Rebecca: We know that GERD bought the mind-files, John.

If you don't want to talk to us, then we can just call somebody about the adventures that you're planning in South America.

Look, there's no need for us to play a game of chicken.

We have what you're looking for.

So, what? You... admit to stealing the mind-files?

We bought them on the black market at the behest of some very important people in our government.

I have the letters sanctioning it. Look, you-you should be happy that we have them.

Imagine our enemies with a cabal of our best minds working around the clock, figuring out ways to harm this country.

The letters that you have...

Did they authorize you to m*rder Eloise Carlisle?

No, in this instance, "conclusive force" was not in the brief.

We bought the files from Ms. Carlisle's intermediary, and hired a third party to supply the hardware.

Frankly, you know, it's... it's been a bit of a boondoggle.

The tech is no use to anybody unless current technology makes a leap forward by an order of magnitude.

We'd like to see them.

Be my guest.

There you are.

Rebecca: There were six mind-files stolen from CRAFT.

Yeah, you didn't buy Eloise's?

Miss Carlisle wasn't part of the package.

We were only sold the five of the country's greatest minds, just waiting for someone to make them do something other than babble at each other.

Quentin said the mind-files were only as good as their software.

Brian: So if we want answers about Eloise, maybe I just have to play around with her programming.

I make it sound easy, but this'll take a minute.

The main thing question of artificial intelligence is, as Alan Turing put it, "Can machines think?"

Now, I'm not saying that I answered that question, but did I make progress?

I think so. I hope so.

Incredible, right?

She looks the same.

Yeah, but she's not.

Rebecca, meet E-L-O, two-point-oh.

(whirring)

I improved her software.

She had all this information right at her fingertips, and didn't have the ability to access it, to understand her relationship to the information.

Rebecca: So, she's more like Eloise?

Yeah, well, I mean, more than she was before, anyway.

(keyboard keys clicking)

What would you ask a m*rder victim if you had the chance?

Eloise?

Do you know who m*rder*d you?

To say who m*rder*d me, I going to need more information.

Is someone threatening you?

Yes.

Is someone making you afraid for your physical safety?

Yes.

Who is the person who's scaring you?

Mauve... is my favorite color.

Sometimes I dream about flowers.

Sometimes flowers dream about me.

Thank you for the insight, Eloise.

Hey, that evidence clerk who was working when the cameras went out is on duty now. Let's go.

Yeah.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, but you guys are gonna go right now?

We're making so much progress.

I once dreamed about a timpani, but I don't think that a timpani can dream.

Well...

Gerard.

Gerard?

Who is that? Is that who's scaring you?

Rebecca: Brian, you can keep messing around with this robot, or you can come with us.

Brian: If I can't keep them from talking to that clerk, there's also no way this ends well for me.

That's the guy!

That's the guy!

No! Wait! I can explain.

I was working for Senator Morra the whole time. Ow!

That's the guy!

(high-pitched silenced g*nshots)

(gasps)

Come on, mate. You can stay with me from now on.

Brian: I can't let them leave without me.

All right.

Rebecca: Brian!

You coming?

Yeah.

Brian: This is it. I'm a dead man walking. Dead man riding-in-the-backseat?

No, it doesn't carry the same weight.

But once we get to the Evidence Control Unit, that is exactly what I'll be.

My future's never been so clear.

And the only way to derail this investigation is with another investigation.

I need a breakthrough in Eloise's case to save me from full-blown Hindenberg.

(people screaming)

Problem is, I may have programmed Elo to be clinically insane. The only thing she said that made any sense was the name "Gerard."

It was a real Hail Mary, but at least that name isn't that common.

20 minutes and 347 Gerards later, I found him.

(whoosh)

(phone chimes)

Hey, team?

Listen, I hate to derail us, but, uh...

We'll eat later, Finch.

The fact of the matter is, I could always go for a good slice, but this is about Eloise.

I think I know the guy that k*lled her.

(door squeaks open and shut)

Brian: I'm guessing you have some questions.

Let's answer them.

Eloise and Gerard had an on-again off-again affair, and since they were both employed by CRAFT, they kept it secret.

Eloise tried to move on, but Gerard became obsessed.

Didn't help that the guy was mentally unstable.

Come on.

I said stop.

(Gerard groans, Eloise gasps for air, groans)

Brian: When he realized the love of his life was gone forever, he figured the next best thing is her mind-file.

He stole it, along with five others, and it made it look like it was Eloise who sold them to TheScrubJay.

When Gerard learned the FBI was closing in, he hastily covered his tracks.

In his kitchen, the FBI found traces of poison he used to k*ll TheScrubJay.

And in his basement?

An older prototype of ELO that he stole to be his very own.

Not creepy at all.

Rebecca: Mr. Turmann, you could be looking at two life sentences.

But since the U.S. Attorney is more lenient with suspects who confess...

I have nothing to confess.

I am on the Board of Advisors at CRAFT, so, yes, there is a possibility that my DNA would be found on or near Eloise.

But all of your so-called evidence seems to be purely circumstantial.

Would you really classify an Eloise doll in your basement as circumstantial?

Look, to each his own.

I get it.

But I also get what it's like to make a mistake, and to get so caught up in trying to cover it up that, man, you can't even remember how it started in the first place.

But for you, this all started because of your love for Eloise.

What would you say if I told you that in the process of finding you, I significantly upgraded Eloise's software?

Gerard: What do you mean by "significantly?"

Brian: So we struck a deal with Gerard Turmann.

He'd confess to Eloise's m*rder if we gave him five minutes with the new and improved Eloise.

Gerard: Anything I can do to change that...

Quentin: That is a special kind of crazy.

Rebecca: I feel like it's the kind of thing that could happen to anyone.

You're lonely, there's an unrequited crush.

The next thing you know...

Do you want to get a drink?

Definitely.

There's nothing wrong with an agent showing some initiative.

In Spike's case, there is.

All right, what have you got?

Oh, it's beautiful.

Oh, thanks, man. The shadows were a little tricky.

Gentleman, please.

Keep the Finchesque theatrics to a minimum, yeah?

Thank you.

Well, we wanted to find out why Spike was so motivated to impress Finch.

Ike: So we decided to tail him.

Mike: And after a few dead ends, we noticed every morning he was going for coffee at Café Maceo, which is 40 blocks in the opposite direction of his home.

Ike: I mean, sure, they have a pumpkin spice latte that will make you see God...

But right next door is a mailbox and packaging store.

And we asked the owner, and he said Spike drops off an envelope every day to the same address in D.C.

ADIC Johnson's home.

You think Agent Spike is a, uh, mole reporting to Johnson?

We figured Johnson wants to avoid digital communication after the fiasco with his phone hack.

The micro-penis incident.

I remember. Thank you very much. Please.

(phone beeps)

Could you send in Agent Spike?

By the way, as it turns out, that position with the CJC won't be available as soon as I thought, but I think we can transfer you to Organized Crime to get you back out in the field.

Actually, I'd prefer to stay on Finch detail until then.

Great.

(knocking)

Yeah.

You wanted to see me?

Mm.

(laughs)

Rad.

Oh, Spike, you got to give my regards to ADIC Johnson.

When did you find out?

How didn't I find out, man? It was pretty obvious.

The all-too perfect knowledge of my favorite bands, the over-the-top ass-kissing.

It all had the stamp of one man.

I thought about saying something.

But, you know, when you got a good thing going.

Well, I trust you'll destroy that painting?

The... Oh, yeah, man. Of course.

Oh, and Spike?

Hey.

Hey.

Where's Rebecca?

I think she said she was going out with Quentin after she stopped by the Evidence Control Unit.

Wait. What?

Yeah, she said she wanted to talk to the clerk who was there when we checked out the coat.

Said she couldn't relax until she took care of that?

You good?

Yeah.

I've always been terrible about facing the music, so, I dealt with it in the only way I know how.

By now, Rebecca's already spoken to the evidence clerk, and he's probably given her a description matching yours truly.

I wonder if she'll give me a chance to explain myself, or if she'll at least keep my family safe once I'm in jail.

In any case, I'm out of scenarios.

(knocking)

It's time to come clean.

He's dead, Brian.

The evidence control clerk.

What?

He had a peanut allergy.

He went to a Chinese restaurant, where the chef knows about his allergy, and makes him special dishes.

But today, somehow, peanut oil ended up in his entrée.

He d*ed in the ambulance.

Treating it like an accident.

Yeah.

What else could it be?

I think someone didn't want us talking to him.

Do you think someone k*lled him?

Who, though?

The matter's closed.

Yes, I posed for the artist, and, no, it's not to scale.