03x04 - Gunplay Ricochet

[bunniefuu]

All right, you got this!

Come on, do it!

- Nice!
- Nice one. Ooh!

Yes, I wanted this one!

That's a good one.

Oh, yes! This is my favorite one!

I wanted it so badly.

It's sick!

...training camp begins, the

question on everyone's mind...

The Penn-Tech Bomber
released another manifesto

promising an imminent att*ck
somewhere in New York City.

Police say they have
identified the bomber

as Nyack resident Marcus Dunn,

however, Dunn's current
whereabouts are unknown.

My turn. You punks ready?

Three, two...

Last box from storage.

It's full of junk.

Except for...

Our wedding video?

Yes, and considering that
we paid for Marryoke,

extended bridal preparations,

and even a video booth
message compilation,

we should watch it.

Roman called me last night.

- What'd he say?
- He wants to punish me

for choosing you and the team over him.

Did he thr*aten you?

No, he's... he's just angry
and lonely, I think.

I know all this is hard.

He's still your brother.

Some part of you...

still cares about him.

What I care about is us.

That's why I'm telling you.

If everything's out in the open,

then there's nothing Roman can use

to wedge between us... right?

But you are gonna help me.

If I don't?

I'll tell Jane what happened in Berlin.

Right.

Hey. How you holding up?

Uh, I'm fine.

- Have you slept?
- How can I sleep?

Stuart was obsessing over this
tattoo the day he was k*lled.

What if it's connected? I mean,
if I would have just listened...

No, don't do that.
This isn't your fault.

All right, what can I do to help?

I wish I knew. I'm stuck.

So... we know the tattoo

points to the previous owners
of Van Gogh's self-portrait,

but... all those people have
been dead for a long time,

so I don't really have a whole
lot to go on at this point.

What about the molecular diagram itself?

Any idea what it points to?

Without knowing the specific elements

the molecules represent, no.

All right... let's take a step back.

What else do we know?

Okay... so, we know that
Stuart's Kinga smart speaker

was tampered with.

So what if other things
were tampered with, too?

Okay, I will reexamine
the other evidence

from Stuart's m*rder,

see if there are any inconsistencies.

I'll call the NYPD crime
lab and compare notes.

Just promise me you'll be careful, okay?

'Cause Stuart was k*lled

- because he was onto something.
- I will, I will.

But I'm gonna find the
person who did this.

I have a little gift for you.

Ugh.

A Georgia Bulldog would rather die

than wear the colors
of a glorified skunk.

We've had a standing bet
for some years now.

You know the rules... you either
wear the shirt or shave your head.

Which one is it... you gonna put it on,

or do I have to go get my clippers?

Don't rush me.

There are about to be
some very confused faces

at my budget meeting.

Uh, one more thing.

Apparently, Roman
called Jane last night.

I think he's trying to
get into Jane's head

and rip us apart from the inside.

You still think he's
trying to expose secrets

within the team?

Is there anything you need to tell me?

What do you mean?

If he's coming after
you and your people,

you make sure your house is in order.

Patterson solved the tattoo.

Reade...

I vouched for you to get this job.

Don't make me regret it.

An oldie but a goody.

The horn skull was actually
one of the first tattoos

my database deciphered
from the original set.

And so this is a symbol
used by Marcus Dunn,

also known as the Penn-Tech Bomber.

We studied him at Quantico.

His first b*mb k*lled 15 people

at Penn Station in '88.

And six more bombings
through the mid-'90s.

Right, and the morning of each att*ck,

he'd send a one-page
manifesto to the "Times,"

claiming modern technology was
the supreme evil of the world.

Wasn't it his ex-wife
that turned him in?

Yeah, she recognized his handwriting.

But before the police
could bring him in,

he blew himself up in a final att*ck.

So the tattoo points to a
bomber who's been dead

for 20 years... doesn't
exactly seem pressing.

Well, since his death,

there have been copycat bombings,

all targeting technology.

The devices were cruder than his,

but each of them were accompanied
by similar manifestos.

So I thought the tattoo was
pointing to another copycat,

but there wasn't enough to go on...
until now.

The new tattoo interacts
with the old one.

And we ran the new pattern
through the database,

and we got a hit off
of satellite imagery.

The perimeter, here in red,

is the perfect match for a footprint

of a long-term parking lot in Brooklyn.

Adler Street Park & Lock.

And not only that, the
bird's-eye highlights

a particular space number, 219.

What's in 219?

Approaching the vehicle now.

You're still clear on thermal.

Opening the rear door.

It doesn't appear to be booby-trapped.

Opening the second door.

Weller, what's in it?

A letter.

So the van was completely clean.

No prints, no physical evidence,

just the letter.

The intended recipient

is the Penn-Tech Bomber's
daughter, Claire Dunn.

Turns out the daughter
of a serial bomber

isn't an upstanding citizen herself.

Two drug convictions, community
service for petty theft.

The letter is mostly small talk.

Until this.

"Those whose agenda it is
to replace flesh and blood

"with cables and circuit boards

will have their dreams turn
to ash in the Empire City."

It's signed "Dad."

Penn-Tech Bomber d*ed 20 years ago.

Or so we thought.

I analyzed the ink

and compared the handwriting
to the '90s manifestos.

It's the first perfect match.

This letter was written within
the last week by Marcus Dunn.

Those other bombings weren't copycats.

The Penn-Tech Bomber's still alive.

And about to carry out another att*ck.

Greetings from the past.

Uh, happy wedding day, Kurt and Jane.

Um, we hope you're watching this

from your big, cozy farm in Colorado.

Why are they living on a farm?

I don't know. What do
you do in Colorado?

Hey, hey, hey, hey! Photobomb!

Oh, it's a video, Patterson.

Yes, and we also can't wait to see

how two of the most headstrong,
ultra-competitive alphas

are gonna function as a couple.

Yes.

This marriage is going to
be extremely entertaining

for all of us.

And so...

we love you.

Don't screw this up.

You just had to suit up
with the b*mb squad.

Couldn't leave it to the
professionals, could you?

I am a professional.

Do you know how many training hours

I put in with the b*mb squad?

You would've gone out
there with zero hours.

You're one to talk. I'm
surprised you didn't try

and squeeze into that
suit and go with him.

Oh, wow.

Not a word. We're not discussing it.

Oh, no, we are not gonna discuss

how a so-called SEC powerhouse

blew a nine-point lead
in the last two minutes.

I have issued a nationwide
BOLO for Marcus Dunn,

aka, the Penn-Tech Bomber.

You got any idea how he pulled
that disappearing act off?

I've been looking into the events

surrounding Dunn's death in '94.

A body was found in a destroyed
van, charred to a crisp.

So he planted another
body to fake his death.

The weird thing is,

the body was positively
ID'd as Marcus Dunn.

Both DNA and dental confirmed it.

So the records were falsified.

How does someone so anti-technology
manage to do that?

- He must've had help.
- What about his daughter?

We tracked the GPS on her car to
a friend's apartment in Jersey.

All right, let's bring her in.

Excuse me... Mr. Jakeman.

I just saw you checked in,

and I wanted to introduce myself.

I'm sorry. I'm... I'm at a loss.

You, uh, you seem to know me,

and I... I can't say the same of you.

Blake Crawford.

My... My charity is hosting this event.

Right.

Probably should've done some homework

so I didn't embarrass myself in
front of the beautiful host.

It's not a problem. I saw
your name on the registry.

I'm making it a point to meet
all the guests I don't know.

Well, I want to make it crystal
clear that I am an absolute nobody.

Well, it's refreshing to meet a nobody.

This room has enough somebodies in it.

Excuse me. Please, enjoy yourself.

We have a full day of
great speakers planned

and a wonderful auction.

It was nice meeting you, Thomas Jakeman.

Please, Tom.

And the pleasure was all mine, Ms.
Crawford.

I don't understand.

My dad is dead.

Well, he writes a pretty
good letter for a dead man.

We know he's alive.

We know you've been talking to him,

using that parking lot as a dead drop.

I have never seen this letter before.

That's because we got to it first.

It mentions others. Your
dad said the garden

you asked about is
bigger than last year.

Do you know what's happening
right now, Claire?

A team of federal agents is going
through everything that you own.

If they find one little piece
of evidence you've had contact

with a domestic t*rror1st,
you are going to prison.

So you can either tell
us where your father is

or spend the next few years
behind bars for protecting him.

I don't know where he is.

I check the van once a month.

Take a letter, leave a letter.
That's it.

What, and so your dad is doing the
taking and leaving on his side?

No, there's a man who
works as a go-between.

You have a name or a number?

No.

So you have no way of contacting him?

What if there's an emergency?

He said if I was ever in trouble,

I should sit on a bench at the
Saratoga Park playground,

any day of the week at noon.

He said he'd find me there.

All right, Claire's in position.
Exits covered.

It's almost noon. Keep a lookout

for anyone approaching the bench.

Think she'll be able
to hold it together?

Well, she better.

If this courier is the same guy

that helped the Penn-Tech
Bomber disappear,

he might know where
he's hiding out also.

What's wrong, Kurt?

This park has too many sight
lines for surveillance.

Not many options for a clear escape.

He's right.

If this guy is as careful
as we think he is,

this isn't a great meeting spot.

Maybe it isn't one.

What if he's using
Claire as a trigger man,

a warning flare telling him
that she's been compromised?

He'd have to live or work nearby,

somewhere with a good view of the bench.

All right, fan out, keep
an eye out for anyone

matching the age and
description Claire gave us.

Drop it.

Remi?

What the hell are you doing here?

And why are you working with the cops?

I guess I'm... I'm not the
best at expressing myself.

Maybe that's why it took me so
long to make a move on you.

Oh...

I can't believe how lucky I am.

I love what we've become.

I love the person...

The man that you make me.

You are my north star.

You're my starting point.

And you're my end point.

So, on that note...

Happy anniversary to my wife.

Remi?

It is you, isn't it?

- You don't remember me?
- Don't take it personally.

Okay, how about some simpler questions?

What am I dealing with? Feds or locals?

The whole area is surrounded.

You wouldn't be lying to me, would you?

Agh!

Uhh!

Now I have some questions.

What do we got on our mystery man?

His real name is Rosamond Ott.
Goes by Rossi.

He's a French national?

Or German or Czech.

No one really seems to
know, but he's wanted

in seven countries for,
like, all of the crimes.

I ran his prints through
some CIA contacts.

It turns out he's kind of a legend.

If you wanna disappear from the face of
the Earth, apparently Rossi's your guy.

Well, if he helped the
Penn-Tech Bomber disappear,

he should know where he is.

All right, you two run
the interrogation.

He knows Jane. See if you can
use that to get him to open up.

Things will get a lot easier
for you when you tell us

where the Penn-Tech Bomber's located.

You really don't remember me?
I was like an uncle to you.

That summer in Kalispell?
Up on Flathead Lake?

If a b*mb goes off, and you
could've helped to stop it,

you'll be responsible.

Is that what you want?

I remember one night

waking you and your brother Roman up

at 3:00 in the morning so
we could sit on the porch

and watch the most violent thunderstorm

the Montana sky had ever seen.

Your mother wasn't happy.

I did your adoption.

And you really don't remember anything?

That's awful.

Maybe some things are better to forget.

Your mother did this to you, didn't she?

Or more likely she convinced
you to do it to yourself, hmm?

What, some promise of a greater good

or of a higher purpose?

- Am I close?
- Okay, enough.

Where is Marcus Dunn?

And what does he plan on hitting?

My line of work requires
maintaining a reputation,

the kind people can rely
on, so when they ask

for my services they
don't hesitate to pay

the hefty fee that accompanies it.

You wanna talk about the good
old days, Remi? I'm game.

But I do not discuss my clients.

All right, we can't find any records.

Maybe Rossi is one of those weirdoes

who keeps it all in his head.

Okay, he was ready to drop everything

when Claire showed up
at the bench, right?

Nothing on him... no cash, no passport.

How was he planning to leave town?

Okay, well, you're a CIA super spy now.

Where would you keep your go bag?

The team already checked this.
I think it's clean.

Yeah, but these old muscle cars
have a lot of empty space in them.

They're great for slicks.

- Slicks?
- Spy hiding places.

Look at the stitching there.

That's different from the original.

All right, I'm pretty sure
desecrating an American classic

is one of the seven deadly
sins, but lives are at risk.

Super spy for the win.

This order's been signed by the
Secretary of State himself.

I know we're all on the same side,

but big-dogging an active investigation

to satisfy some political IOU
is low, even for you all.

What's going on?

The State Department is claiming
jurisdiction over Rossi.

Assistant Secretary West is here

to begin the extradition process.

- No, you can't do that.
- I can.

Rossi's wanted by the French government

- in a number of cases.
- Do any of them involve

a present thr*at on U.S. soil?

It's my understanding he's
offered no credible leads.

- We're still pulling evidence.
- It doesn't matter what you find.

The case the French
will bring is ironclad.

Let's be honest here. Handing over Rossi

pays back political capital for
the current administration.

Call it whatever you want.

Rossi's being transferred
within the hour.

Patterson's got something.
She wants us in the lab.

All right, our very own "00Z"

found Rossi's ledger hidden in his car.

It's an account of all of his business
transactions going back 30 years-plus.

Looks like gibberish.

It's designed to.

It's heavily coded.

Rossi assigned each of his
clients an insect name.

Well, that seems fitting,
considering his customers.

The coding makes the book unreadable

unless you have more information.

In our case, specific dates to
when transactions occurred.

Like when the Penn-Tech
Bomber faked his death.

There were 20 transactions
in August '94,

but only one client had a
monthly transaction listed

up to the present day.

Letter drops at the van
to the bomber's daughter.

Exactly.

Which means the code name

for the Penn-Tech Bomber is Mosquito.

The second transaction in August '94

has a number attached to it.

It's a zip-code for Ithaca, New York.

You think that's where
Rossi's been hiding him?

There are only a few hundred residences

that haven't changed
ownership since '94,

and of those places,

only one has never had
Internet, phone, or cable.

Great work.

Coordinate with Ithaca PD.

Get them to secure the area.

The mayor calls you, you let me know.

Good job.

Sheriff Hannon. Nice to meet you.

Thought we told you to secure
the area and wait for us.

Well, one of our dogs
sniffed out a b*mb.

- Couldn't sit on my hands.
- Wait, and it's been disarmed?

Aw, don't look so surprised, darling.

We got people with special
skills upstate too.

Come on. I'll show you.

Did that guy just call me "darling"?

The b*mb was pretty simple.

Kind of like a middle
school science project.

- The house was empty when you got here?
- Mm-hmm.

Think Rossi gave him the
heads-up we were coming?

Maybe when he saw Claire at the park?

Stop! It's a decoy.

Everyone down!

All right, Kurt Weller, uh,

there's a lot I want to say to you,

um, but I was told to keep it PG-13,

so I'll save the good
stuff for our honeymoon.

I never thought that, uh,
this would happen for me.

I never thought that I
would have what we have.

And today is just...

...so perfect.

And I just feel really...

Move over.

Hey, there you are.

I've been looking everywhere for you.

Oh, did you think I ran away already?

Well, I'm not gonna
give you that chance.

I'm never gonna let you out of my sight.

Ever.

You okay? All right?

Jane!

Everyone okay?

- Jane!
- Weller.

- You all right?
- Yeah.

Jane! Reade!

You okay, sir? Get out.

Reade!

I'm good, Kurt. I'm good.

Okay, you get out of here.

Jane!

No. No.

Jane?

No. Jane?

Jane! Hey!

Jane! It's me.

Come on.

I'm okay.

I'm okay.

Glad to see everyone made
it out in one piece.

Where are we on the Penn-Tech Bomber?

We found nothing in his house
that pointed to his whereabouts.

But we do know he is
planning something big.

We found empty containers
of acetone peroxide

and a ton of empty car
batteries in his shed.

He's making TATP.

He's completely in the wind

with enough expl*sives
to level Yankee Stadium.

We need something to chase,
and we need it fast.

The Penn-Tech Bomber
operates completely analog.

No computer, no phone,

not one megabyte of data
that could give us a lead.

But we did find a typewriter,

card stock, glues, and cutting
tools on his work bench.

We think he may have
been forging something.

Yeah, maybe credentials
to gain access somewhere

or a fake passport to flee the country.

- Why would he need thermometers?
- The mercury was drained.

So he could be planning to make
it airborne with an expl*si*n.

- What about Rossi?
- That's our lead.

A guy like that takes years to break,

and the State Department
is taking him in minutes.

Let's keep running down the evidence.

Let me know when you find something.

You okay?

Just a few bruised ribs. I'll live.

- If you need anything, just tell me.
- I'm fine.

- Roman.
- He dangled Rossi right in my path.

I'm done with my past.

All I ever find is pain.

This is what I care about.

Us.

I just wish...

we could live inside our
wedding day forever.

Everything was so perfect.

You're perfect.

I'm not so bad myself.

Oh. Sorry.

We're gonna have a lot
more perfect days.

We get that for the rest of our lives.

We're only at 25,000

for a stick signed by
famous Rangers alumni!

Where are we? Pittsburgh?

Come on!

How about 30?

Thank you! 35?

35. How about 40?

Going once.

Twice.

Sold to the woman in the blue dress.

Thank you.

That money will go a long way

in helping displaced
children all over the world.

Okay, this next piece is
very dear to my heart.

It was handmade by a child
living in a refugee camp

our charity helps to fund.

A one-of-a-kind wish bracelet.

Bidding opens at $1,000.

That's right. It's not high art.

But you're buying love.

You're buying soul.

Okay.

It might look like this is made

out of cheap hemp and plastic beads,

but Aidah,

the nine-year-old artist who crafted it,

assured me that the
wish contained within

is 100% guaranteed.

So, just buy the bracelet

and then wish for more money...
or more wishes.

I'm telling you, this
thing is a gold mine!

Thank you. Can someone show me 1,500?

It's for a good cause.
Now we're cooking.

How about 2,000?

$20,000.

Well...

That is exceedingly generous.

I like wishes.

Cooking up a lead on our bomber?

Uh, the tests are still marinating,

but I do have something for...
Operation Cuttlefish.

It's a... code name I'm giving

to our side investigation
for Stuart's m*rder,

'cause cuttlefish have skin

that's like a cloak of invisibility...

- What did you find?
- Okay.

Stuart's phone records
show a normal activity

leading up to the day he d*ed.

But when cross-referenced
with cell tower data,

there's one kilobyte of data

that isn't accounted for
on the day he d*ed.

Not big enough for an app
update or voice call.

Text message?

Yeah, but the phone company

has no record a text was ever sent.

I'm thinking that someone
tampered with the data,

just like the smart speaker.

So another dead end.

Well, I'm working another angle.

I've been looking at
Stuart's tattoo research.

What if someone was interfering
with that as well?

You think our task force
has been compromised?

I think it's possible.

But not many of us have access to this.

- What you're suggesting is...
- I know, I know.

But I just think we should make sure.

I just got off the phone
with the "Times."

The Penn-Tech Bomber
delivered another manifesto.

He's targeting a university.

- He didn't mention which one, did he?
- I was hoping you would know.

Said the b*mb's going
off in the next hour.

Hello, Kurt and Jane.

I realize that we only
met just recently,

but already I can see what
an amazing team y'all are.

And, despite your accomplishments,

there will be some days when you just...

you just don't think you can make it.

But then that is when
you lean on each other.

sh*ts!

I met a man named Jonathan Walker Blue,

and we are in love.

To the good times and the bad.

May love rule mightily over both.

Everyone, fall in. Listen up.

Reade's put me in charge of
dispatching the tac teams.

Now, the Penn-Tech Bomber
claims in his manifesto

that he's attacking a university,

but he doesn't specify which one.

We do know that he told his daughter

to stay out of the city, which leaves us

60 campuses between all five boroughs.

Now, we're coordinating with the NYPD

to search and evacuate
all of those campuses.

Hold on! Hold on!

His target is New York Metro University.

How do you know that?

Microfibers from the Penn-Tech
Bomber's work bench.

Test results show that
most of the particles

were blue, green, and silver,
and the only local schools

with those colors is Metro U.

And they use those colors for their IDs.

He must have forged one
to gain access to campus.

The campus is already evacuating,

but it's gonna take an
hour to get everybody out,

so we're gonna need major support.

All right, you've heard the boss.

Let's move!

Item 41, ready to go.

Winners get free shipping
anywhere in the world,

but... for the price you paid, I
thought I'd deliver it myself.

Ah, just one more wish
I don't have to make.

Something doesn't add up here.

- What do you mean?
- Well, how can someone

call themselves a nobody

and then waltz in here with pockets

and generosity as deep as yours?

Who are you?

I don't usually like to talk
about this with strangers.

Oh, I'm not a stranger.

We met way back... earlier today.

I spent a lot of time
fighting in Afghanistan.

Saw a lot of bad things.

When I got back, the
world was still a mess.

Nothing I'd done had made it better.

Then a friend of mine d*ed,
and I came into some money.

Suddenly... my path became clear.

Save the world, one bid at a time.

So, how does this thing work?

Well, you make a wish as you put it on,

and over time, it becomes weaker,

and when it falls off,
your wish is granted.

But if you take it off yourself,
your wish won't come true.

Ahh.

Well, I ran the numbers,
and your charity

just funded homes for over 20,000 people

displaced by w*r and poverty.

Something tells me you deserve
this wish more than I do.

Did you make one?

Yeah.

Remember, you can't take that off now.

I-I won't.

I should make my rounds to
the other winners, but...

can I buy you a drink afterwards?

Isn't it an open bar?

Yeah, but I paid for it.

Sadly, I have a plane to catch.

Well...

thank you for your
kindness and for this.

You're... a good man, Tom Jakeman.

Tac teams are landing
at Metro U in minutes.

Any specific places they should
be looking for the b*mb?

Still combing for clues
in the manifesto.

Well, keep combing.

There have been theories
that the Penn-Tech Bomber

left puzzles in these.

Well, if you and this
software can't cr*ck a code,

there probably isn't one.

- Unless Roman cracked it first.
- What do you mean?

The tattoo.

So, what if... what if it's a cipher?

What if I overlay the sea
urchin on top of the manifesto?

I'll be damned.

The limbs are pointing
to specific letters.

Okay, they spell out...

"Metro University Hospital basement."

W-Wait a minute.

How would Roman know the code

to a manifesto released an hour ago?

Okay, okay, okay.

These are the older ones.

Maple Ridge Internet cafe trash can.

Compu-Con Expo Booth 72.

These are all places he
planted bombs in the '90s.

He's been using the same code
pattern this whole time.

Taunting us. Proving he was smarter.

He was... till now.

Beta Team, take the dorms.

I cracked a code in the manifesto.

The b*mb's in the university
hospital basement.

The b*mb squad will be
here in five minutes.

Weller, Jane, you guys
take the basement.

- See if you can find the b*mb.
- On it.

Delta Team, I need you to
assist in a full evac.

Even the sickest patients gotta go.

Echo, you guys clear the
west side of the building.

Agent Zapata and I will clear the east.

Be on the lookout for
the Penn-Tech Bomber,

aka, Marcus Dunn.

Remember, he's 20 years
older than his file photo.

He's gonna look different.

All right, everybody stay on comms.

Move, move, move!

This is an emergency...

FBI! We're evacuating the building!

Please find your nearest exit

and get off of campus immediately.

I'll go left.

Ma'am, please evacuate the building.

Please proceed to the nearest exit.

Excuse me, sir?

Doctor?

I think I've got someone.

Ohh!

We got eyes on the b*mb.

Dunn is down! I repeat, suspect is down!

Which means he can't
help us disarm the b*mb.

We're running out of time.

All right... it's just you and me.

Weller and Jane! It's my turn.

Okay, so, if life was
like Dungeons & Dragons,

Jane, you would be an elf paladin,

and Weller, you are a dwarf monk.

That does make you,
like, four feet tall,

but you know what, I just
thought you would think wizard

is just, like, a little bit too nerdy.

So, okay.

What I'm trying to say is,

you guys are amazing
warriors on your own,

but together, you can defeat anything.

I can't see if there's a remote trigger.

Dunn didn't have one on him, but...

But he set a countdown timer.

You have 82 seconds.

81.

- Copy.
- 80.

Setting mine to 79.

- Is b*mb squad here yet?
- They're about two minutes out.

You guys need extra eyes down there?

Continue the evacuation.

Get everyone to safety.
We'll handle the b*mb.

Copy.

Weller, can you send me a photo?

No, I can't see much with this lid on.

But I do know that we gotta get
inside this drum to disarm it.

The only problem is, there's
an anti-tamper device on this.

It's a mercury-triggered open circuit.

Now we know what the
thermometers were for.

If we jostle this lid too much,

that mercury touches the exposed wires,

- it's gonna set off the b*mb.
- Yeah.

Okay, okay.

Then I suggest not even
the tiniest of jostles.

- Okay. Ready?
- Yeah.

Just lift it.

And then go.

Little more pressure.

A little more.

There we go.

All right. Steady.

Move over here. Gentle.

- Ooh!
- Steady.

Steady, steady. Oh, steady.

Okay...

Now, the lid's secure, Patterson,

and we got 25 seconds.

We got circuit boards wired
to redundant blasting caps.

Okay, you need to pull the wires

between the cap and the power source

and at exactly the same time.

I'm pretty sure they're the red ones.

Pretty sure?

Well, we got seven seconds.

Which one do you want?

Okay. Okay, I'm ready.

Three, two, one.

Down to zero. We're not dead.

What?

That was, um...

That was kind of hot.

I'm just sayin'.

- Really?
- Mm-hmm.

You're one very, very special lady.

Still on comms, guys.

We got a problem.

Rossi's missing.

What? How is that possible?

He was in our custody at
the State Department.

When it came time to
transfer him from his cell

to an international flight, he was gone.

He can't just vanish into thin air.

The whole place went on lockdown.

We scoured the camera feeds. Nothing.

- He's gone.
- So you take Rossi from us,

lose him, then come back here
for help with your mistake?

Hat in hand.

Maybe there's something
in Rossi's ledger

that points to contacts or resources

he had to aid in his escape.

I'll start looking, see
if I can find connections

to anyone who could've
helped him on the inside.

Jane, you had a personal
connection with him.

- Any idea where he'd be?
- No.

And I don't have a connection
to him, not in this life.

We'll let you know as
soon as we find anything.

Hey! We need to talk.

Cuttlefish.

What?

Cuttlefish.

I found more evidence of tampering.

- I'm listening.
- All right.

So do you remember the
cr*ck in our last case?

The call that came through the
FBI's anonymous tip line?

- Yeah.
- The tip was marked

as a low-priority action item.

So, the FBI would've
never investigated it

if it wasn't for the tattoo.

I recovered the data from
the day the call came in.

The agent who logged it
marked it as high priority.

So someone reclassified
it to bury it, but who?

The tips were on a central server,

so it has to be someone
from the FBI, DOJ,

or the State Department.

Like Assistant Secretary West.

Or someone above him.

Whoever did this, why would
they want Stuart dead,

the tip line buried, and
Rossi out of custody?

Where does it all point?

If life was like Dungeons & Dragons...

How long does this go on for?

What I'm trying to say is...

It was kind of nice to
see you in that video.

I don't, uh, hear things like
that from you very often.

What are you talking about?

I tell you that stuff all the time.

- I'm gonna start...
- Kurt!

Hmm, I guess my invitation

got lost in the mail,

so, uh, I'll make my toast here.

Jane, you never thought happiness

was in the cards for you, and, uh,

well, you were right, heh.

You're too broken, sis.

Love just isn't in your DNA.

And, Weller, whatever you think
you have with my sister,

it's built on a foundation of lies.

Someday you will feel
the same pain I felt

when she turned her back on me.

I'm sorry to be a downer
on your special day,

I really am, but...

there's more pain coming.

And there is nothing either
of you can do to stop it.

To the bride and groom.

Why would he do this?

To remind us that he's still in control.

_

Sorry. I'm sorry.

Hey, Kurt, are you expecting a delivery?

Nope!

Why?

What is that?

It's... It's medical documents
and a birth record.

Rossi sent them to me.

- What?
- Uh...

He didn't orchestrate my
adoption to Shepherd.

This says he did an adoption for me,

18 years ago.

Kurt, this... this says
I have a daughter.