06x10 - Green Thumb

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A famous "psychic" outs himself as a fake and starts working as a consultant for the California Bureau of Investigation so he can find "Red John," the madman who k*lled his wife and daughter.
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06x10 - Green Thumb

Post by bunniefuu »

Previously on "The Mentalist"...

Van Pelt found some coded files in Bertram's office.

Rigsby: It looks like a list.

Patrick.

Kim.

Patrick: Thank you for this. I needed the company.

Kim: Who doesn't?

I'm here to make you an offer. The Bureau is willing to drop all the charges against you— if you come and work for us.

For the F.B.I.?

My terms. I need you to read them and sign it.

We can work with this.

I'm gonna give you my home phone number...

In case you ever (takes off pen cap) make it back to the states.

You are on U.S. soil now, I am the federal government, and I am telling you that this... is the deal.

That is a napkin. Take it or leave it.

I'll leave it.

Kim?

Agent Fischer.

Agent Fischer.

(Police radio chatter)

Have you seen the stapler?

It busted yesterday.

We have another one?

Um...

You know, maybe try the copying machine.

It has a staple function. Isn't that a waste of paper?

No, we have tons of paper.

I'm gonna go with a paper clip.

Agent Fischer.

Chief Lisbon. Can we talk?

It's adorable.

Please. Sit down.

How's Jane?

He is still in detention.

I know.

They won't deliver my letters.

Three months now.

He's being kept in isolation by design.

By design?

You mean until he does what you want.

We want to help him out. You want to use him.

Is that so bad?

In case you haven't noticed, Jane is hardly federal agent material.

Was he state agent material?

No, not really, but he wanted to be there.

And while he was there, he stopped the 10-year reign of a mass m*rder*r and exposed a society of corruption in law enforcement that spread halfway across the country.

Yeah, that didn't exactly go down by the books, did it?

Yeah, we know how Jane works. And we know he's a risk.

But we can't ignore the upside.

He closed every case you were ever assigned.

Yeah, he had help.

Which is why I'm here.

What do you want from me?

Help me, Lisbon.

There are national security issues at play.

Jane won't work with us unless we meet his demands.

He has too much pride to back down.

You got to give him a win. Meet one of his demands.

One of his demands is you.

Meet another one.

We're running out of time.

Is your work here so pressing that you can't take a break to help your country?

(Knocks) Hey, Chief, uh, I radioed Officer Phelps.

He can run to Kmart for a new stapler.

Swingline or Stanley Bostitch?

(Footsteps approaching)

Visitor. Splendid.

Not a willing one, based on the posture.

(Door closes)

That's a little better.

It's good to see you.

How you holding up?

Ah...

You know what incarceration's like.

Not really.

Well, there's no need to pretend, Lisbon.

We're both in the same predicament.

How is that? I have a home and a respected career.

You're locked up for m*rder.

Eh, you're splitting hairs. We're both trapped.

How am I trapped?

You live in Washington.

(High-pitched voice)

I love Washington.

High voice.

(Normal voice) Why are you being so stubborn?

The F.B.I. is offering you a "Get out of jail free" card.

Well, you make that sound like a good thing.

Isn't it?

Not on their terms.

If I can't live on my terms, I'm in prison anyway.

Might as well just stay in this cozy little detention suite.

Well, that's your call, but not today.

The F.B.I. dragged me here, and they're not gonna let me go home until you help them with a case.

So get your ass out of the chair and let's go.

Okay...

Federal officers coming through.

♪ The Mentalist 6x10 ♪
Green Thumb
Original Air Date on December 8, 2013

(Indistinct conversations)

(Phones ringing)

Hmm. I don't see a couch anywhere.

Don't start trouble. At least not yet.

Man: Over here.

Abbott: We'll be assisting our New York office on this case.

And our asset has just arrived.

Mr. Jane. Lisbon.

You called me an asset. That's so touching.

I'm an optimist.

We just started briefing, if you'll have a seat.

I'm fine. Hey, Cho. Hey, Jane.

What's going on?

Hey.

(Chuckles) We're in the middle of a briefing.

We can catch up later. Gotcha. Hey there.

(Monitor beeps)

This is Abel Schneiderman.

He led the team that wrote the new source code to protect the Federal Reserve Banking System.

Two days ago, he disappeared from his loft in Brooklyn.

There were signs of a struggle in his bedroom.

Schneiderman's cell phone was busted on the floor.

We are working on the theory that he has been kidnapped.

Has there been a ransom demand?

Not yet, but we're expecting it.

Well, it's either that, or they will break him for the code and launch an att*ck on the Federal Reserve computer system.

What Abel knows could bring our banking system to its knees.

Oh. This is exciting.

Is this the case that I'm here for?

We're getting to you.

I knew you saw me. Huh?

I knew it.

Abel has a young wife—

Defiance Schneiderman.

Now understandably, she's emotional and believes that the F.B.I. is not utilizing all of its resources to find her husband.

And unfortunately, we can't let anyone outside the F.B.I. know that Mr. Schneiderman's been kidnapped.

Otherwise, it could cr*pple the financial systems.

The New York office sent a F.B.I. agent posing as a psychic, but Ms. Schneiderman saw right through that.

Well, of course. She's a gypsy.

Woman knows a thing or two about psychics.

What makes you say gypsy?

Well, Defiance is a gypsy name.

Look at her bedroom.

It's gypsy catnip.

Abel there is Jewish, which means she turned her back on her entire clan to get married.

Now she has a missing husband and no family for support.

It's a psychic 9-1-1.

Well... there we are.

Let's go to work.

(Airplane engines roaring)

(Indistinct speaking on P.A.)

Thank you.

Coach. I was expecting a federal jet, or at least a helicopter.

(Ticket rustles)

Call the aisle seat.

You'll sit where you're told.

You know, you can relax.

Everything's good.

You're still a federal detainee, and you're in my charge, so, no, I won't relax.

And you'll do as I tell you, you understand?

Oh, I understand you, Kim.

I understand you very well— better than you do yourself.

You will stay within arm's length of F.B.I. personnel at all times.

Any foolishness, and you go back to detention.

She wasn't at all like this on the island.

How was she on the island?

I was undercover.

You mean you were lying.

I was using a false persona.

Actually, I don't think so.

I think that was the real you.

I think this federal she-wolf shtick is, in fact, a false persona.

No. This is the real me.

Lisbon: Hmm. We're boarding.

Remember the rules.

(Inhales deeply)

Ahh.

I love the smell of reclaimed meat and onion water.

Do you have a $20?

Thank you.

(Vehicle door closes)

Liaison with the New York office is waiting upstairs.

You two, stay here and cover the exits.

There are two— west and south.

Detain anyone who tries to leave the building.

(Sighs)

Hey.

Arm's length, remember?

Yeah. I'm just a little hungry.

I don't care.

I've already paid. Now.

(Patrick mutters)

(Sighs)

This is where the Schneidermans live.

It's mostly an abandoned storage building, but there are some renters on the top floor.

No security cameras.

What kind of renters?

Usual fringe types— artists, dropouts.

These aren't legal dwellings, but they got a hell of a view.

Hmm.

In the photos you sent, there were signs of a struggle in the bedroom?

That's this way. I'll show you.

(Curtains slide open)

Hi.

Mrs. Schneiderman?

Defiance.

Defiance.

You are Romani gypsy?

What do you know about it?

Carny circuit. My dad was a showman.

So, Defiance. Yeah.

Quite the painter.

(Laughs)

And who are you?

Patrick Jane.

I was invited by the F.B.I. they said you need help.

Oh...

You're a psychic.

So I'm told.

(Laughs)

All right.

(Keys jangle)

Read my palm.

It only works with a dominant hand.

No. Can't do it.

I knew you were a fake.

No, you're not letting me in.

You're anxious about finding your husband, and you don't want to be read by a gorger from the government.

You're feeling scared and alone...

(Sighs)

(Curtains slide open)

And you don't trust strangers.

And I don't blame you. You can't trust these guys.

Jane.

I mean, they mean well, and they'll find your husband if you let them do their thing.

Says you. Yes, says me.

Why are you asking the F.B.I. to meet your spiritual needs?

Don't you have a trusted psychic of your own?

I do. Cleo.

But he's not answering my phone calls.

Hmm. That is odd.

Can you find him?

Can you find Abel?

Where was the last place you saw him?

On the roof, night before last.

What were you doing up there?

Sharing a bottle of wine with my girlfriends.

Abel came up there with his laptop.

He likes to unwind on the roof. It's peaceful.

I'd like to take a look at this roof.

(Door creaks)

It's the stairs at the end of the hallway.

Hi.

What are you doing?

Spyhole went dark.

(Chain clattering)

What?

We're with the F.B.I.

Sir, did you see or hear anything unusual in the last couple weeks?

I already told you people, no.

We're with a different office.

(Sighs) So many, like roaches.

(Lock clicks, chain clatters)

Nice guy.

His name is Nguyen Hai. He's a Vietnamese refugee.

He used to run a noodle shop. Now he owns the building.

He was home the evening of the disappearance, but he didn't hear or see anything.

How do you know that?

I read the case files.

I thought you weren't interested in the case.

It was a long plane ride.

So if Abel came up here the night he disappeared, why was the bedroom trashed?

I don't know. I got home late from the bar.

When I got in, Abel was gone, and our room was wrecked.

Was he expecting any visitors?

(Defiance) I don't think so.

He would have told me before I left.

This is your husband's garden.

Yeah. How'd you know?

His energy's here.

He pours his energy into this garden because he doesn't like being a computer programmer.

That's right.

He feels trapped in that world.

Yes.

It's an orderly world, full of rules and numbers.

But it's not Abel's world.

He sees himself more as a rebel soul.

(Clicks tongue)

He really loves that Che Guevara guy.

Yeah, that's why he rides a motorcycle.

Grows his own vegetables.

That's why he married you.

Oh, because I'm a gypsy?

Yeah.

Because you had the courage to walk away from centuries of tradition for love.

You may not know it, but you give your husband the courage to be who he is on the inside.

Is Abel alive?

Why don't you help me find him?

(Inhales and exhales)

I can feel him.

Where is he?

Just not getting a clear read.

What should I do?

Well...

(Gasps)

Don't tell them I said this, but you should sneak off and notify the media right away.

Hmm?

Okay.

So that this city can pull together and help find him.

That is your only hope at saving your husband's life.

Okay.

Go.

Where's she going?

She, uh... wants to call the press.

I-I-I tried to stop her.

Downstairs.

You must really Miss that prison cell.

Patrick: I'll try and talk to her.

You have done enough talking.

(Lock clicks, chain clatters)

Hi.

(Door slams)

(Door creaks)

(Phones ringing)

After Jane returned to the roof, he went down a fire escape to the south alley.

(Monitor beeps)

And that's where the cameras lose sight of him.

Who was covering the south exit?

I was. But I didn't have a line of sight to the alley.

There are no exits there, so I didn't think—

You misread the situation. There'll be a note in your file.

Yes, ma'am.

Collins wasn't the only one to misread the situation.

You mean me?

Yeah.

You're correct. I screwed up, too.

And supervising agent Abbott will note that in my file.

Fair enough.

Why don't you and Agent Collins focus on looking for Jane?

You have an insight there.

Coordinate with Davis in the New York office.

Yes, ma'am.

Thank you.

This is the real you, huh?

Let's keep our eyes on the prize, shall we?

Abel Schneiderman.

We have narrowed his kidnapping suspects...

Excuse me?

To three extremist groups—

Why am I here?

What do you mean?

I have no business. Jane's gone.

We'll find him.

Uh, most of you will recognize these faces.

You're only gonna find him if he wants to be found, which he doesn't, or he wouldn't have left in the first place.

Take five.

(Murmuring)

(Sighs) Tell me something. Uh...

Did you help Jane escape?

Why would I do that?

You're h-his friend.

Yes, I am, but I'm also an officer of the law.

I'm not trying to get you in trouble. I just...

(Sighs) I need your help.

I... (Sighs)

I was so certain I had him figured out.

(Sighs)

Welcome to my life.

How did you make it work for so long?

I've thought about that myself. I mean, after he disappeared. How I made it work for so long.

And what's the answer?

I have no idea.

Were you two ever involved?

That's a strange question. Why would you ask me that?

Uh... No reason. I just—I... Uh, nev—never mind.

(Rustling)

(Clatters on ground)

(Pen clatters)

(Rattling)

(Tires screech in distance)

(Lid pops)

(Sprays)

(Rattling)

(Spraying)
(Indistinct conversations)

(Mouse clicking)

What are you doing?

Waiting for you.

To do what?

Notice me.

Who are you?

Jason Wylie. Uh, junior I.T. analyst.

I work in I.T.

Analyzing stuff.

Okay.

What do you want, Jason?

Uh, we were told to focus I.T. support on the Schneiderman case, but I'm my own man at lunch, right? (Laughs)

So I stole some satellite time to hunt for Patrick Jane.

Look what I found.

Cho: This was taken 22 minutes ago from a satellite over Brooklyn.

You think it's really Jane?

It's not a trick?

That's Jane.

Notify New York right away.

Who found this?

Analyst Wylie. On his own time.

Who is analyst Wylie?

Right there.

Feel free to join us.

You took this initiative on your own?

Yes, sir.

Well, let's see what you can do on the primary team.

Stanley, find Wylie a desk in the bullpen.

(Vehicle approaching)

(Tires screech)

Down!

Get down!

(g*n cocks)

Face down on the street!

Thank you.

(Cell door closes)

(Cell door closes in distance)

(Bed squeaks)

Mnh.

(Cell door closes)

Congratulations.

You got one over on me. It's a nice stunt.

You feel better now?

Mm... no. You woke me up.

I don't get you.

You hunted down and k*lled your enemy.

Why are you making new ones?

Eh, you're right.

Running away was a mistake.

I'm ready to discuss the job offer now.

There is no offer, not anymore.

Nonsense. Let's talk.

I am taking you back to Texas.

And next week you'll be indicted for the m*rder of Thomas McAllister, among other charges.

Guard.

You cats find the body yet?

(Cell door closes)

What body?

The body hidden on the roof of Abel Schneiderman's building.

You saw it?

No, but there's a large pile of soil just by the garden.

(Cell door closes in distance)

Winter is almost upon us, so what is that soil doing there?

That's a rhetorical question.

The soil is there to make room for Cleo—

Mrs. Schneiderman's psychic.

He went missing the same time as her husband.

What are you talking about?

Abel found out his wife was sleeping with her psychic, so he k*lled him in the bedroom.

But Abel doesn't own a car, so he cut up the body into pieces and buried them in the garden.

Your kidnap victim isn't kidnapped.

He's a k*ller. And he's on the run.

You're good.

Thank you.

A good liar.

Eh...

(Door opens and creaks)

(Flashlight clicks)

I really hope this isn't his idea of a joke.

There is that chance.

There's also the chance that he's right.

If there's one thing that this job kills inside, it's a sense of trust.

(Knocks)

I almost forgot what it feels like.

(Knocking)

(Knocking continues)

Hey, let me get some light over here.

Well, there we go.

Hey.

Hey.

I can't believe they gave me a desk.

(Laughs)

You can call me "The Coyote".

I don't think so.

That's just what they call me downstairs.

Don't ask me why, though. They never told me.

(Laughs)

Your name's Wylie.

Yeah.

Wile E. Coyote.

"Road Runner, " the cartoon?

No, it's Irish, I think.

Uh, good morning, Agent Stanley.

Hey...

Do you know the road runner and the coyote?

Yeah. Sex traffickers in Dallas.

(Whispering) There's a cartoon about sex trafficking?

Hey, Cho, you got a minute?

Yeah.

Abbott and I went to Brooklyn last night.

There was a body hidden on the roof.

Jane was right.

He usually is. You get an I.D.?

We're waiting on forensics, but it appears to be Mrs. Schneiderman's psychic, just like Jane said.

The director wants me to bring him back on the case.

That's a good call.

He made fools of us.

It won't be the last time.

How do I get him under control?

(Sighs) You don't. Jane is what he is.

He'll use you to turn every situation to his advantage.

So what would you suggest I do?

Use him to your advantage.

(Phones ringing, indistinct conversations)

Found the body?

Fischer: Yes.

Cleo Ascencio, New York psychic, astrologer, healer.

Also found a hacksaw hidden in the planters, same brand as the other tools in Abel's kit, with traces of the victim's blood.

So Abel k*lled his wife's lover and ran away, just... like I said.

Well, it appears so.

Oh. Don't b*at yourselves up.

You would have figured it out eventually.

I said, "appears so."

He just received a ransom note.

A third-class letter sent directly to Abel Schneiderman's office.

What kind of kidnapper uses snail mail?

It's smart, really.

Low-tech, old school, no electronic footprint.

Unidentified kidnappers want $10 million deposited into an overseas account by midnight, or they will sell Schneiderman to the highest bidder.

Next step would be a cyber-att*ck on the Federal Reserve.

You want me to notify Secret Service?

Please do.

This isn't right.

There are no kidnappers.

What am I missing?

Maybe Abel faked his own kidnapping to get money to escape the country.

That's very good, Lisbon. That is the best theory yet, but it's wrong, too.

I need another look at that loft.

Really?

Back to Brooklyn again?

Yeah.

Okay.

Don't worry. I won't escape.

Oh, I'm not worried. If you walk away this time—

I know. I'll end up spending the rest of my life in prison.

(Chuckles) No.

I'll sh**t you.

Mm.

Oh, look, they have "Skymall."

"Skymall."

(Moans and sighs)

(Sighs)

Okay, Lisbon, what's the matter?

You.

Was it that comment I made in the bullpen?

Because I think it's a really good theory.

I don't care about that.

You ran away again, Jane.

Not from the F.B.I. you ran away from me.

Yeah, but I ran back.

How was I supposed to know?

I thought you were gone again forever.

Okay, you're right. I-I'm sorry, Lisbon.

I... I didn't think about you.

Well, you rarely do.

Well, that's not true.

I made you one of my demands. I'm—I'm not joining the F.B.I. unless they make you a job offer.

That's my point.

What makes you think I want to work with you again?

You are difficult and exhausting, and maybe I don't want to put the rest of my life on hold to be your sidekick.

(Sighs)

Have you ever even thought about that?

No... no.

I hadn't considered it.

You think you know what's good for my life, but you haven't been a part of my life for two years.

So let's get this case wrapped up so I can go home.

How dare you think that I would cheat on Abel!

And with Cleo? !

No, I-I wasn't reading you. I was reading your husband.

You're a catch. Your husband's a computer nerd pretending to be a rebel to try and hang on to you.

Men like that snap when they feel betrayed.

It's true. Abel is very jealous and insecure and he overcompensates, but you missed one detail.

You're in love.

He's my little lion, and I would never sleep with another man.

I see that now.

I would like to be alone. All right.

Please leave.

Okay.

(Clears throat)

Do you still think Abel k*lled Cleo?

Oh, I know he did. Guy's a hothead.

Those swollen biceps and neck tattoos.

The mere hint of an affair would set that guy off.

Why was her psychic here the night Abel disappeared?

Defiance was out with her friends all night.

There was no reason for him to be at the loft.

Cleo Ascencio. It's such a theatrical name.

You think it's real?

It is. We ran his fingerprints.

Let me guess. Clean record?

Spotless.

What are you suggesting, Lisbon?

Ascencio— it sounds Cuban.

There's a scam that they do in Cuba.

Brokers charge large sums of money to surgically modify fingerprints.

They swap the right fingertips and the left.

It fools immigration every time.

How do you know that?

I'm a police chief.

With a lot of reading time on my hands.

I did what Chief Lisbon suggested and ran the left-hand fingerprints for the right, and it worked.

Cleo Ascencio transforms into...

(Mouse clicks)

Jose Martinez.

And who is he?

A fraud. A street hustler from Havana.

Made a living picking pockets until he stole a wallet from one of Castro's ministers.

Now he's wanted by the P.N.R.

Jose Martinez?

He fled Cuba and set up shop here.

Okay, so he changed his name.

That doesn't mean he's a fraud.

You have any idea why he was in your loft the night your husband went missing?

Sure. Uh, Cleo would drop by sometimes when he thought he had an insight I should hear.

Now, if you weren't here, would Abel let him into the building?

He wouldn't have to. Cleo had the security code.

He would just buzz himself in.

Well, that explains what he was doing in your bedroom two nights ago. It does?

Hot reading.

It's the bread and butter of the spiritual flimflam man.

You gather personal effects on your subject in advance, and then you present them as psychic revelations.

Martinez came up to see if Defiance wanted a reading.

But she was out drinking, and Abel was on the roof.

So he came up into the house and he took a little snoop.

When Abel came downstairs, he caught your psychic in the bedroom and assumed you were sleeping with him.

Okay. Fine.

But none of that explains who took Abel from the building.

No, it doesn't, because I don't think Abel ever left the building.

If my suspicion is correct, he is still here, and he is still very much alive.

One of us needs to stay here with Defiance.

I'll stay. You don't want in on the bust?

Nah, the three of us have done a lot of busts together. You go.

There's nothing like a takedown with Jane.

Shucks.

Shall we?

(Door creaking)

(Door closes)

One...

Two...

(Chain clatters)

Three.

Do you know what time it is?

See? Distractible and paranoid by nature.

Can't let anyone pass this door without knowing who it is.

What the hell is going on out here?

Glad you asked. There's been a m*rder.

And you said already. Schneiderman.

No, he was kidnapped. Another man's been m*rder*d, but you know that, right?

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

Sure, you do. You know everything, including where Schneiderman is right now.

I don't know anything.

He's in your apartment, isn't he?

Probably in the bathroom. No. You value your privacy.

I'm gonna say... stashed in a closet.

Watch out, Jane.

(Jiggles handle)

Open the door, Nguyen!

Uh, somebody gonna break the door?

Go ahead.

All right, I'm ready.

Break right.

I got him. Go find Schneiderman.

(Nguyen sighs)

(Muffled shouting)

(Whimpering and shouting indistinctly, muffled)

(Muffled sobbing)

Abbott: Did you invite Jose Martinez into your loft the night of his death?

No. I came down from the roof, and he was there in our bedroom.

And what was he doing?

That's what I wanted to know.

Hey!

(Shatters)

Hey! Abel!

Uh, this isn't what it looks like.

What are you doing?

Uh... nothing. See?

Where's Defiance?

Defiance? !

She's not here. I let myself in! I should go.

You're not going anywhere!

(Grunts)

I'm sorry, okay?

I should go.

(Grunting)

(Schneiderman) I kind of lost it.

(Grunting continues, objects shattering)

All right! All right!

(Shouts indistinctly)

I'll go!

His foot got caught in the shag throw.

His—his head hit the coffee table.

It was horrible.


And why didn't you call the police?

With a dead man on the floor?

What you described is involuntary manslaughter.

You would have been out in six months.

Then what?

I work the Feds. My career would have been over.

(Voice breaks)

I would have lost Defiance.

That's when I decided to hide the body.

(Door creaks and closes)

(Fischer) And the squeaky hallway door made sure you always heard the Schneidermans.

That is how you came to see Abel hauling a body to the roof.


(Scraping and rustling)

Who is he?

(Gasps)

(Sighs, panting)

Just somebody who deserved what he got.

This... This is a bad dream.

Just go back to bed, Mr. Nguyen.

I'm not sleepy.

What do you want?

You want money? Fine.

I'll give you $5, 000 to forget everything you saw here tonight.

You're that security contractor for the federal government.

Yeah.

(Cocks hammer)

Exactly how much are you worth to the government?

Our colleague Mr. Jane suspected there was more to you than meets the eye.

Cho: You didn't get those scars on your face from running a noodle shop.

You're a gangster from way back. Green Dragons?

(Chuckles)

"Born to k*ll."

It was the bloodiest street g*ng in New York history.

All Vietnamese refugees.

I hear you guys owned Chinatown in the '80s.

We owned New York.

One last story for the record books.

How an original member of B.T.K. almost took the feds for $10 million.

Give me that confession.

(Exhales)

Give me the pen.

(Clicks pen)

(Knock on door)

(Typing)

You wanted to talk to me?

You have a sharp mind.

And people like you.

Some people.

Well...

I didn't think so before, but I can see this arrangement working on a permanent basis.

I like you, too, Dennis.

And I can see working with you in the future, but only on my terms, and you know that.

Yeah, we've been through this. There's no deals.

No demands, no negotiations.

We are offering you a career, a clean slate, a chance to make a difference.

(Sighs)

You drive a hard bargain, Dennis.

Okay, pet leopard's off the table.

Forget about that.

But I need the full pardon. And the Airstream.

And I need a couch, man, 'cause everything is cold and hard around here.

And...

I need a job offer for Lisbon.

I am sure that some people find this side of you endearing...

But I'm not one of them.

I'll be following your m*rder trial on the TV.

Good luck.

Okay.

Thank you.

Oh, enjoy your mail.

(Door closes)

Fellas. Stop right there.

Jane...

Where did you get this from?

Oh, a thumb drive Gail Bertram was hiding.

This is the first I'm hearing about it.

It's the first I've talked of it.

These are all the members of the Blake Association.

Correct.

I figured Bertram was keeping it as insurance.

Well, we've arrested or retired all of these people.

Yes, you have— except the ones that I've blacked out.

Those ones you haven't caught.

We caught them all.

Did you? Well, I guess Bertram was wrong then.

Give me the names.

A couple of judges, a congressman, several F.B.I. agents. Names.

Big names, some of them.

If that list ever got out to the press, it'd cause all kinds of turmoil, wouldn't it?

Are you threatening me?

Oh, no.

Just pointing out that we both have the power to create misery.

Okay.

You give me the names, and we'll agree to all of your terms on the contract.

If I give you the names, you'll break the contract.

You've already done it once.

What do you propose?

I propose that you surrender to my terms, and when I'm finished with your contract, and only then, I will give you the names.

Get him out of here.

(Inhales and clears throat)

Mm...

Well... Hmm?

You did it this time.

You brought the F.B.I. to its knees.

(Chuckles)

Did I?

They conceded to all your demands.

Every single one. How did you do it?

Well, remember that thumb drive we found in Bertram's wine cellar?

The encrypted database?

It's a list of Blake Association members.

I used it as leverage.

But we never broke the encryption.

(Lowered voice) Yeah, the F.B.I. doesn't know that.

(Lowered voice)

That's why you escaped.

To create a bogus list of names.

And to enjoy a bacon-wrapped hot dog.

(Normal voice) I have to say, I am impressed.

You outplayed the F.B.I.

(Scoffs, normal voice) No contest.

Did they tell you when I start work?

When we start.

We?

What about your job?

Nah. It was boring. Yeah, I told you.

Yeah. But you had no right to.

It's my life, and I'll decide what to do with it.

And you decided correctly.

There was never any choice.

Oh, come on. It'll be fun.

Let's see what kind of trouble we can make.

I got you something.

For me?

Mm-hmm.

You got me socks.

Handmade in Washington.

Oh...

Stay tuned for scenes from our next episode.
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