03x06 - Bunker Down

[bunniefuu]

Picture this: this guy invites you

to a quiet dinner at his home.

The candles are lit, you're drinking

a $10,000 bottle of Bordeaux.

Yeah, he said the price
because he's a billionaire.

Like "owns a private island" rich.

When, out of nowhere,
he freaks out and pulls you

into this creepy,
apocalyptic dungeon...

I, uh, I thought
you were neutralizing this.

Oh, the post has already been
wiped from social media.

The problem is,
you haven't told me everything.

I have, and that's a fallacy,

'cause nothing is ever totally
wiped from the Internet.

Fortunately,
it's not a Me Too situation,

and she's a nobody with fewer
than 10,000 followers.

Besides that, she doesn't
name you specifically.

Okay, any Neanderthal

with a keyboard is gonna figure it out.

And you know what? They're gonna try,

'cause my company has a 20% share

in the digital wallet business.
All right?

That's $1.2 trillion in revenue.

And I promised that I'd get it
to 30% within two years.

So the board cannot find out about this.
Okay?

That's why we're creating
a counter narrative here.

But in order to do that effectively,

you got to tell me
exactly what happened.

My God, I already have told you
exactly what happened.

I saved that woman
from an attempted break-in.

An actual break-in?

Yes. The mayoral election is going on

and the crazies are coming
out of the woodwork.

And they are hell-bent
on making us feel guilty

about generating wealth
and creating entire industries.

Right, right, okay.
So you're having dinner

and suddenly
there's crazies at the door...

you know, boom, boom, boom...
and you take Emily where?

The safe room.

Which she called
the "apocalyptic dungeon."

Yeah, this girl is drama.

Come here, I'm gonna show you.

Come.

I see. It's like a,
it's like a b*mb shelter

or a-a nuclear,
nuclear bunker kind of thing.

No, no, no. My bunker's in New Zealand.

This is a riot retreat
for social unrest.

I mean, given the current
"eat the rich" zeitgeist,

I need to take precautions.

I'm starting to see why you let
the rest of the staff go.

Well, it's nothing A.I. can't do better.

And A.I. won't turn on me as fast.

Right. Okay. So...

You pull Emily in here,
you-you lock the doors

and you take cover
for a couple of minutes?

Mm-mm. Like four hours.

Did she appear to be afraid
at any point?

Afraid? Here?

This place was designed
to obliterate intruders.

I showed her everything.

I showed her my remote-controlled drones

that sh**t b*ll*ts,
I showed her my smoke screen launchers,

the molecular friction apparatus
that generates enough heat

to microwave a human body.

- It can microwave people?
- Yeah.

That's a little diabolical,
don't you think?

Diabolical?

No, no, no, I mean,
it's clearly a genius idea.

No.

No, I've seen that look.

Daddy taught me
that's the look of a traitor.

And this isn't
the ketamine talking, Anders.

- Craig, just hold on a minute.
- No, no, no. You didn't come here

to defend me
against that nutjob, did you?

You came here to take
information back to the board.

Craig.

No, no, no, don't-don't pretend.

I know things about you.

I know that you're leaving
crisis management.

Craig, I may have mentioned
the possibility

of making a pivot.

You know, destroying
people's reputations

takes a-a lot out of a person.

The pressure's a lot. You understand.

Your ex says that you're
isolating in here more and more.

You talk to Kelly about me?

I'm just saying I'm concerned.

Oh, you're so concerned
that you're gonna have me ousted

from the company that I built?

You are supposed to be defending me!

Craig, I am defending you.

I'm defending you against that woman,

against the former intern,
your family...

I cannot believe
I did not see this before.

This is...

This... ah, I got to think about this.

- I got to take some time.
- Hey, you know what?

We can discuss this at another time!

Craig.

Craig?

Craig, what are you doing?

Craig?

Ow.

Are you trying to microwave me?

Craig, you-you can't.

It's getting really hot.

Let me out of here!

Craig, you have to open the door.

Craig, you can't do this.

Craig?

- What?
- Listen, Craig.

- Come on.
- If you let me out of here now,

there's no story.

I'll act as-as if nothing ever happened.

But if you try to hurt me,

that's gonna be a lot harder to spin.

Oh, man, I should've tested it
on the rabbit.

Craig.

What is my mother's birthday? God!

What?

Oh, my God.

How do you work this damn drone?
Come on.

You know what?

I've got some minor burns, but...

...if you let me out now,

I won't go to see a doctor.

I-I will take care of it quietly.

I know how to do that.

All you have to do is open the door.

Good morning, Elsbeth Tascioni.

Oh, Alec.

What are you doing here?

Does the campaign trail
run through the precinct?

I was in the neighborhood.

Also, I'm going to a fundraiser

for the renovation
of the city law library tonight

and I wanted to ask you to go with me.

Me, as in "the mysterious redhead"

recently seen with Alec Bloom?

You believe in law and libraries, right?

I'm just not sure I'm comfortable
being gossip fodder.

The press won't be there. Come on.

It's not that simple.

Why, did, uh, Marissa
say something to you?

Marissa says a lot of things.

Yes, she does, but...

you and I are consenting adults

and we can go somewhere together

without having to ask
permission from anyone.

So this wasn't her idea?

I'm asking you because I,
I genuinely enjoy your company.

But if you don't want to be seen
with me ever again,

I'll-I'll respect that.

I won't like it, but I'll respect it.

Ooh, you are really laying on
the charm, aren't you?

Is it working?

Yes.

Good. Marissa will text the details.

- We'll have fun.
- Okay.

Like I mentioned before,

the neighbor said the dog

- was barking all night long.
- Dog?

Oh. sh**t.

Well, we'll send it over
to Animal Control...

- Animal Control?
- What kind of dog is it?

Sounded like a poodle,
if I had to guess.

Uh, the bark was a little yippy,

like a small dog trying to sound big.

Yeah, some poodles do that.

And some people.

This is Stu. He's a...

- Uh, what is it again?
- Oh, I'm a skip tracer.

That's an insider term
for process server.

Well, I guess there's
an insider term for everything.

I've got a 100% success rate,

and I can't find this guy
Anders Wittman anywhere.

- I've staked out his office, his home.
- Stu thinks he's missing.

Maybe he's intentionally dodging you.

I told him the same thing.

I would have thought so, too,
if it wasn't for that dog.

The neighbor says that dog never barks.

I'm telling you, something's not right.

Fine.

We'll send an officer out
to check on the dog.

But a barking dog doesn't warrant
a missing persons investigation.

We thought you might say that,
which is why

we did a little research.

What if we told you
that this Anders Wittman

is a fixer at the Meridian Group?

- The crisis management firm?
- Those people are worse than lawyers.

Uh, no offense,
but they've destroyed more cases

than I care to admit.

Wait, really? Or is that hyperbole?

It's true. They've intimidated
as*ault victims,

silenced witnesses, paid off officials.

Anything to protect
the people who hire them.

They sound horrible.

Well, we can't pick
and choose our victims.

Given his line of work,

chickens may have come home to roost.

Least we can do is look into it.

Lieutenant Connor, get
Anders Wittman's phone records.

If you think that's necessary.

Uh, but we don't have cause.

The phone company isn't just gonna

hand over his phone records.

That's a violation of privacy.

Anders Wittman's phone
went silent early last night.

He hasn't answered any calls
or texts since.

- They just handed this over?
- Pretty much.

Find out who this Anders Wittman
spoke to last.

Already did.
It was the FinTech CEO Craig Harris.

He lives in a mansion
on the Upper East Side.

Well, go. Maybe he can tell us something
about Anders Wittman's whereabouts.

Shouldn't you assign this
to a detective? Maybe Edwards or...

Everyone's grumbling about caseload,
and this could be nothing.

- But according to protocol...
- Go.

Here we go.

Geez.

They just handed over everything...

every call, every text... in no time.

Makes you think.

You really can't assume
anything is private anymore.

Anders Wittman definitely
understood that. Check it out.

His text messages are full
of aliases and penal codes.

"Maneuvering around Zebra's 140.20.

Next up, getting Sparrow's 120 handled."


in the third degree.


Maybe a domestic dispute.

You just rattled that off so easily.

I had a friend in the academy
once who made the mistake

of calling in the wrong code.

Poor guy, still gets grief for it.

From me, too, not gonna lie.

Here we are.

Anders Wittman is missing?

Stu certainly thinks so.

- Stu?
- He's a skip tracer.

And if Anders' dog could talk,
I think he would agree.

Translation: we are trying
to locate Mr. Wittman

and have a few questions.

I assure you,
it'll only take a few minutes.

Visitors cleared

to enter the premises.

We understand Mr. Wittman
called you yesterday evening?

Uh, yeah. To cancel our meeting.

But I haven't seen or heard
from him since then.

Ooh. Are these for guests?

- Excuse me?
- Uh, the chocolate?

Yeah. I had them flown in
from Switzerland yesterday.

Little tariff work-around. Please.

- Help yourself.
- Thank you.

Uh, is there a guide?

- Who is this?
- Oh.

Look, here it is, on the inside.
That's so cute.

Uh, uh...

Ah. That one's pretty.

Mmm. Mmm!

What crisis was Mr. Wittman
handling for you?

Crisis? Excuse me.

Must you touch everything?

- Sorry, is this a first edition?
- It is.

And for that reason,
I'd rather you not touch it.

If you hire an outside professional

like Anders Wittman to resolve
a crisis, it must be serious.

Okay. Don't act like you don't know.

Look around, man.
Men like me are being vilified.

Vilified.

Vilified? For what?

Oh, I don't know, for being successful,

for working hard,
for fostering innovation.

It's not just me, it's tech
founders across the board.

- Mmm.
- Hey.

Don't people love a success story?

In theory, but look at social media.

Tech entrepreneurs
are mocked and ridiculed.

That's right. Write that down.

They may be socially awkward,

but I, for one, appreciate innovation.

I don't want to have to go back
to hiring a travel agent

to book flights and hotels
or search for 20 quarters

- to do a load of laundry.
- Yeah.

You know, generally,
I'm not a fan of humans,

but this one, this one I can tolerate.

- Good job.
- Thank you.

But I'm gonna have to ask you to leave.

I'm late for an important engagement.

No.

- You've had three.
- I'm sorry.

If you have any more questions
about what Anders was doing,

you can ask him.

When you find him.

Help!

Help me!

I'm sure Anders is fine.

But you say your colleague
hasn't returned any of your calls.

Well, sometimes we have to go deep

when managing a crisis.

"For example," if a client
wakes up with...

A dead hooker?

For example.

I was gonna say "hangover," but okay.

You can't bring extraneous people

into the circle of knowledge.

You surface when
everything's cleaned up.

And by "cleaned up," you mean...

- You know.
- Uh, no.

Actually, I don't.

Is it possible
someone could have had a problem

with the way Mr. Wittman
was cleaning things up?

Did he make any enemies?

This business
is all about making enemies.

We destroy reputations
to protect others.

Wow. I'm beginning to think

it goes beyond reputations
to things like,

I don't know, evidence
of wrongdoing, "for example."

Of course.

We stay within
the bounds of the current law.

I wonder if there'll be any future law.

Anders knows how to straddle that.

Whatever happens, that man
always has the last word.

He's one of our best.
Or... at least he was.

Why, did something happen?

He's been going on about a career pivot,

although I don't know
what he's gonna do instead.

It's not like any of us have time
for relationships or family.

Hmm, maybe that's why
he wanted a change.

Did Craig Harris know that Anders

wanted to leave the business?

I doubt Anders told his clients that.

They expect us to neutralize
their messes forever.

Who was Mr. Wittman "neutralizing"

- for your client Craig Harris?
- I'm sorry.

I can't just disclose
that kind of information

to anyone who asks.

Unlike the phone companies.

We find it concerning that his dog
was left alone in his apartment.

- Yeah.
- Wait.

- Tilly was alone in Anders' apartment?
- Yes.

Anders would never leave Tilly alone.

He picked her up from the kennel

when he returned
from Zurich yesterday morning.

- Mr. Wittman was in Switzerland?
- Yes, for business.

Are these Swiss chocolates?

- Elsbeth, please.
- No, it's okay.

Anders always brings
a little something back for us.

Try one.

Now that you understand the
seriousness of the situation,

maybe you could tell us who Mr. Wittman
was trying to silence.

...out of nowhere, he freaks out

and pulls you into this
creepy, apocalyptic dungeon.

What happened after you posted that?

Anders Wittman demanded
that I take it down.

And when I didn't, he went nuclear

and posted all these nasty
deepfakes of me online.

Craig Harris was obviously worried

your story would damage his company.

But she didn't mention him in the video.

Several commenters were clearly
working to figure it out.

I didn't rat him out.

But one day he's gonna
slide into some other woman's DMs,

and she won't be as savvy as me,

and she'll end up dead in that dungeon.

I'm telling you.

We've been to his home.

We didn't see anything
to indicate he had a dungeon.

That's because it's hidden.

Imagine being with this guy
in his big house.

He's fired all the help,
so you're totally alone.

Why did he fire all of his staff?

Because he's a paranoid freak.

He's replaced them
with robots or whatever.

Anyway, we're in the middle
of this lame dinner,

and the smoke alarm starts beeping.

It was obviously time
to replace the batteries,

but Craig was convinced that
the socialists were breaking in.

So he pushed me into his den.

- The room with all the bookshelves?
- Yes.

- Ah.
- Then a wall opened up,

like in a spy movie,
to this weird bunker.

Huh.

Did he threaten you?

He said he could nuke anyone

who tried to come in after us.

This man has a bunker that nukes people?

- In New York City?
- Mm-hmm.

It sounded crazy to me, too,

but men like Craig Harris
can buy almost anything.

Well, what's his motive?

I mean, didn't he hire Anders
Wittman in the first place?

Yes, but Craig Harris
really doesn't like people.

I don't think that's a motive.

The Meridian Group calls him "Drac."

You want to know why?

Because he sucked
the fun out of the room?

No, because he bit an intern.

- Drawing blood?
- Yes.

Captain, Anders could be
in that bunker right now.

Being nuked to death.

Which is why we need to search it.

You said that there was
a woman on the video

who was serving papers
for a defamation suit

against Anders Wittman, who was
working for Craig Harris.

Will she file a formal complaint?

Not likely, no.

Because she has seen what can happen.

Well, unless she files that complaint,
we don't have anything.

Actually, we do.

We have Swiss chocolates.

- Wha...?
- Anders had just returned from Zurich.

Craig and Blaire both had

these delicious chocolates
from Switzerland.

I think they were
a souvenir from Anders.

Elsbeth, I can't get a warrant
to search the home

of one of the richest men in the world,

whose campaign contributions
determines whom we work for,

based on similar chocolates.

Can I pay him a visit?

- Elsbeth.
- What?

I doubt Craig Harris will ever
let you inside his house again.

What are you doing here, Ms...

Tascioni. Elsbeth Tascioni.

I thought I'd stop by
and give you the scoop

on the investigation.

If it's about the investigation,
why are you dressed like that?

Oh. Yeah, I am
a little overdressed, aren't I?

I'm, uh, I'm going to an event.

I thought you'd be eager to know

what happened to Anders,
considering the work

he was doing for you.

So, do you work alone in this house,

or do you go to an office?

Okay. An-an office? No.

I work here, just like I did
during the pandemic.

- Ah.
- Oh, my God, that blessed time

where I didn't have to see people.

Or smell them.

Hmm. Oh.

I, uh, made you a little something.

♪ Da-da-dah. ♪

- Homemade butterscotch.
- Mmm.

After eating your chocolates,

I thought, I need
to do something in return,

but what do you give a billionaire?

Solitude?

Try one. They're really good.

So, you were saying you had some scoop?

Oh, right, yes.

So, it looks like

Emily Fogarty, whom I believe you dated

briefly, may be involved
in Anders' disappearance.

- Emily?
- Mm-hmm.

Well, it was her post
about your secret bunker

that, uh, caused the crisis, right?

Perhaps.

So it's true,
you do have a secret bunker?

I have a bunker in New Zealand.

Oh.

That makes more sense.

I was having a hard time
picturing a bunker

in the middle of Manhattan.

Remember. Don't touch.

- Right.
- Yeah.

Oh, it's just...

it's so mesmerizing, the eyes.

And the story.

I can understand
why you'd be drawn to this.

I've actually never read it.

- You're kidding.
- No.

I-I don't read books.

A.I. summarizes everything for me.

Ah.

Well, this one,
you're gonna want to read.

It's all about the corrupting
influence of money

and how the rich insulate themselves

from the consequences of their behavior.

Sounds like the writer was poor.

Uh, Fitzgerald did struggle financially.

'Cause poor people are always

trying to scapegoat
the rich, aren't they?

Isn't that right?

And that's not gonna stop until
they get universal basic income, hmm?

Well, at least you recognize
that people will need a means to live.

You still haven't articulated
why you think Emily

has anything to do with
Anders' disappearance, huh?

Well, it turns out that Emily
was suing Anders for defamation.

It means nothing.

Well, it's a possible motive, isn't it?

A motive for what?

You still don't know where he is.

Or do you?

- Hmm?
- Uh-uh, no.

Uh, um, not yet.

Uh...

- Hmm?
- But you know what? You are right.

I am just gonna, um...

I am going to, uh...

come back later
when I have something more.

- Okay.
- But, um, in the meantime,

I have that event, so...

Good day, Mr. Harris.

Good day, Ms...

Tascioni.

Sure.

Hi, I'm sorry I'm late.

No need to apologize.

I was waylaid by a very rich man

who isn't against helping people,

he's just against the whole human race.

Sounds like one of my opponents.

And a few of my donors.

Your Shirley Temple.

Aw.

I'm so glad you could join us tonight.

What's that doing here?

If you could give us
your attention for a moment,

the chairwoman of this effort,

Winnie Crawford,
would like to say a few words.

Elsbeth?

- Thank you.
- What are you...?

Thank you, Nell.

As you know,
my husband Judge Milton Crawford

was brutally slain on the steps
of the courthouse last year.

You all knew him

for his deep dedication to justice.

I also knew him as a dedicated husband,

father and friend.

To share your life with someone

with such a strong
moral character was a gift.

I wanted to honor him
in some way, and, honestly,

raising money to improve
this hallowed place he cherished

seemed ideal.

The plans are exquisite,

and I welcome any questions
you may have about the project,

which is obviously so dear to me.

Thank you.

And enjoy.

Are you okay?

- Yeah. I'm sorry about that.
- No, no, no. It's okay.

Ms. Tascioni?

Yes, I know who you are.

I've been wanting to speak with you.

With me?

Perhaps we can set up a time
for the two of us to talk.

What? Why?

I'd like you to tell me
everything you know about my husband.

I think it's time, don't you?

Winnie.

Uh, excuse me for a moment.

You know what? I'm, uh...

- I'm-I'm just gonna go.
- Oh, are you sure?

It sounds like she just wants to talk.

The thing is,

Judge Crawford k*lled innocent people.

Won't be a fun conversation.

And my grandmother always said
if you don't have something nice

to say about someone,
just shut your trap.

I think your
grandmother would do well in politics.

But if you don't want
to be here, let's leave.

I don't understand.

I hear there's a problem.

No problem.

I'm just finding new ways
to deal with intruders.

You know me. I'm always hungry
for innovation.

Oh, well,

happy to show you
new features that we're, uh,

rolling out to our best customers.

This system not only traps intruders

using a toxic nerve agent
but it automatically radios the police.

Police? No, no, no, no.
Not that. Not that.

What do you have in mind?

I don't know.
Hypothetically speaking, if...

hypothetically, there was an intruder
trapped in your safe room,

would there be a way to poison the air?

Like with carbon monoxide?

That is awfully specific.

I suppose all you'd need...
hypothetically,

is a way to direct the carbon monoxide
exhaust into the room.

Perfect.

Anders! Anders!

When you're dealing with a guy
who may be "nuking" people,

the last thing you want to be
reminded of is Judge Crawford.

And then along comes his wife Winnie.

She keeps leaving me
all these voice mails and texts.

She even sent a note to the precinct.

You don't have to talk to her.

I know, but maybe I should.

You've been doing so well
since getting out of prison.

Do you want to stir all that up again?

I doubt knowing the truth

will bring Winnie Crawford
any peace anyway.

The captain is right.

She's probably looking
for closure she'll never find.

I've got news about Anders Wittman
that you're not gonna believe.

He was hit by a car?

Coming out of a manhole on 72nd Street.

Died at the scene.
Driver had no time to stop.

And that's not all that happened to him.

He also had cuts and abrasions

inconsistent with the blunt
force trauma of the vehicle.

And it appears
he'd been bitten by a rat.

Ooh, something just got added.

There's also evidence
of a strange chemical substance

underneath one of his fingernails.

Mm.

Ooh, and, sorry, another addendum.

Second-degree electrical burns
on his face and hands.

Gosh, where was this guy? Toontown?

As of yet, there's no evidence a piano
fell on his head.

Well, the burns could be
from the "nuking" Emily described.

That was just a figure of speech.

No one has nuclear capabilities
in their home.

Not even a billionaire.

There must be someone else

who knows what's inside that bunker.

Like whom?

Your name is on the city permits.

I did the work a couple years back.

Left Wyoming to design
safe rooms and bunkers

for all of New York's billionaires

afraid of the unwashed masses.

- Admirable.
- It's a living.

Who am I to deny the super-wealthy
their peace of mind?

There a problem?

If you were to be trapped

inside Craig's particular bunker,

would you be able to...

work your way through
a tunnel underground

- and then wind up on 72nd Street?
- It's possible.

When we installed
the ventilation system,

we connected
to an abandoned subway tunnel.

But they don't know that.

A lot of my clients want
to be completely off the grid.

That may be possible
if you're in Alaska or Utah,

but if you're in the city
and you want water, toilets

and air, you have to hook
into New York City lines.

- Mm.
- What can you tell us about

- the interior of your bunkers?
- Ah.

Imagine the luxury of a penthouse

equipped with a wide array of amenities

designed to protect against intrusion.

Each Subterra bunker is fitted
with electrified doorknobs,

smoke screen launchers, the works.

Well, I think I'll stick with
a basic alarm and my dog Gonzo.

Of course, if you have
that level of security,

you have to deal with
the potential aftermath.

We now offer a self-sanitizing system

that cleans better than
a public bathroom in Paris.

Those are amazingly clean.

We also offer an emulsifier spray

that preserves fresh fruits
and vegetables for months.

Oh, that sounds like something
we could all use.

Hmm. Growers in the Midwest,

uh, blocked its release to the public.

Having produce last for weeks

would put a dent in their profits.

They're not wrong.

Would Craig's bunker

have the ability to "nuke" someone?

Is Craig Harris dissatisfied
with the product?

What makes you think that?

- Well, when he was here yesterday...
- Wait, he was here yesterday?

Look, I believe in giving
clients what they want,

but what some of them want
veers into cruelty.

And I refuse to build a t*rture chamber.

Is that what Craig wanted?

A t*rture chamber?

I made sure he didn't have
enough power to k*ll anybody.

So he was trying to microwave the man?

It appears so.

It's all making sense now.

Not to me.

Craig had withdrawn from everybody.

His wife, his kids, even his staff.

So, when Anders
showed up for that meeting,

there was no one else there.

So he lured him into the bunker
so he could t*rture him?

Yes. And if we had done
a thorough job to begin with,

we might have found Anders alive.

So let's get in there now and prove it.

Sir, we have a warrant
to search the bunker.

The one you claim you didn't have.

How is this happening?
It's not a bunker.

It's a safe room.

I'm guessing the entrance
is somewhere over here.

Oh, oh, you think I'm going to help you

invade my space, is that right?

Open it or we'll break
the wall down. Sir.

Oh, my God.

Ooh, I knew that book was significant.

It's a classic.

Think my entire apartment

could fit in this corner.

It's very Jay Gatsby, isn't it?

Why can't escape rooms be this nice?

- You ever been to one?
- Oh, gosh, no.

The thought always scared me.

They're never this clean.

You could eat off the floor in here.

And yet, no matter

how well you seal a place,
these fruit flies

always seem to find a way in...

Hey. I see what you're doing. Yeah.

Mr. Harris, back away from our officers.

No, they're planting evidence,
right there.

Under the nose
of a consent decree lawyer?

A what? What?

The NYPD was ordered
to bring in an outside observer.

- Okay. Where?
- That's me.

Oh, God.

These officers
are securing the perimeter

as they've been instructed.

You know, I thought you understood...

but you're just as brainwashed
as the rest, man.

You resent me and you resent my work.

I understand being
an introvert, but this?

This? I'm protecting myself.

In the event of an uprising,
do you believe

this is going to save you
from angry mobs?

For how long? And against how many?

What's the point
of all that intelligence

if you're gonna use it to achieve ends

that are destructive and stupid?

- Uh, Lieutenant?
- Yes?

CSIs couldn't find anything.

Looks like the place was scrubbed clean.

He must have the self-cleaning system.

Better than a public bathroom in Paris.

We're done here. Pack it up.

What?

You-You're not arresting me?

I told you. He was never here.

Please step off the premises

or risk grievous harm.

The man makes things up out
of thin air. We saw it happen.

It seems Craig Harris honestly believed

we were going to fabricate evidence
to use against him.

That's the thing. Anders Wittman
did have information

to use against him.

Craig Harris may have
turned on his fixer,

he may have attempted
to k*ll him, but...

- Here it comes.
- ...we have no proof.

It's Winnie Crawford. Again.

Are you gonna answer it?

You know something? Yes.

Are you absolutely sure?

I am.

We came close to proving it.

I know it's a lot.

- I'm sorry.
- After 40 years of marriage,

you think you know a person.

My husband m*rder*d innocent people,

and here I was, planning dinner parties.

I assume Milton knew you were onto him.

Powerful men usually do
whatever they can

to keep their secrets.

You must have been so scared.

No, I'm sorry for what you went through.

And I will stop honoring
the judge's memory.

What?

I guess I expected you
to still defend him.

Given what I know now, how can I?

Hello?

- Another addendum.
- To the autopsy?

What more could have happened
to this guy?

The lab identified the material
underneath Mr. Wittman's nail.

Diglyceride?

Could be from the tunnel, maybe.

Yeah, but even if
we searched the tunnel,

there's no way to prove that Anders

escaped from Craig Harris's bunker

'cause there were multiple connections

going into that tunnel.

He could've come from any of them.

Where does that leave us?

Wish there was some way
I could put myself in Anders' shoes.

Trapped in a room
with seemingly no escape.

We can.

You now find yourselves

in the basement

of an abandoned asylum,

where Dr. Fright

has been performing forced lobotomies

on his unfortunate patients.

Are the theatrics really necessary?

Shh. He's probably getting
his Equity card.

You!

Have exactly one hour

to find the doctor's credentials

and thus unmask his true identity.

If you fail,

he will make you

his next victim.

That was awesome.

Okay, okay.

I mean, I... I don't even know
where to start.

It can seem overwhelming, I know.

I felt the same way when I was
stuck in a CIA safe house.

My team almost failed that one,

but we rebounded
at the taxidermy lab in Moscow.

A taxidermy lab in Moscow?

Sorry. Moscow, Pennsylvania.

We broke the record.
Escaped 39 minutes, 13 seconds.

Wait, you, uh, you went
out of town for an escape room?

Well, you can't keep doing
the same ones over and over.

Right.

Hey. Hey, hey.

- What-what was that?
- Nothing.

I thought we were supposed
to work together as a team.

I don't remember reading that
in the rules.

He probably just found
one of those hidden clues

left by some sorry player
who never made it out.

Why would they be hidden?

Well, you can't leave messages
where Dr. Fright

might find them. Duh.

That's it.

I brought you
a little something.

Okay, Ms., um...?

Tascioni.

Maybe you should write it down.

Okay,
please stop bringing me things.

All right? I-I clearly want for nothing.

Oh, but this I think you'll need.

Why would I need a fly swatter?

I'll show you.

Step back inside. Step back inside.

Get back, you got it?

What, you didn't succeed

in framing me the first time,
so you're gonna keep trying?

- Is that what's happening?
- Does it get tiring,

believing everyone is out to get you?

That's what we're looking for.

Hello, little fruit flies.

Fruit flies? What?

It didn't make sense that
there were fruit flies in here

because the fruit had been treated

with that special preservative.

But clearly some of it
had been scraped off.

That's the same substance

we found underneath
Mr. Wittman's fingernail.

Diglyceride.

Okay. You know this doesn't
prove anything, right?

- Right?
- No.

On its own, it doesn't prove much,

but under the circumstances,
Anders did the only thing

a good PR crisis manager could do.

He got in the final word.

Officer Reynolds, read that banana.

"Drac 125."

This is nonsense.

- This is crazy.
- Actually, it's not.

The Meridian Group's nickname
for you is Drac.

And 125 is what, Officer Reynolds?

It's the New York
penal code for homicide.

"Craig k*lled me."

Craig Harris, you are
under arrest for as*ault...

- 120.10.
- ...and attempted m*rder.



Okay, I'm gonna spare no expense

in fighting these ridiculous charges
and I'm gonna get the best lawyers.

Unless they turn on you, too.

- Oh.
- Ms. Tascioni,

I apologize for dropping in
on you like this.

What can I do for you?

I wanted to tell you
that I've had second thoughts

about abandoning my work
with the law library.

Oh, well, you don't have to explain...

Please hear me out.

My effort

is bringing in a great deal
of private money

at a time when public money
is disappearing.

I can't be the one to stop that.

I hope you understand my decision.

Of course.

And at least, perhaps now

some good can come of the tragic events
of the past.

Oh. I hope so. For everyone's sake.

There is one other thing
I keep wondering.

You said you had proof
of my husband's guilt.

What did you mean by that?

We had an item that belonged
to Sherry, the victim,

that we believe had
Judge Crawford's blood on it.

Unfortunately, it, uh,

disappeared before we could test it.

Disappeared?

From the lab.

I think Judge Crawford
was responsible for that.

The bad news never ends, does it?

I am so sorry.

You are not to blame for anything.

Next time we meet, we'll discuss
something pleasant,

like the theater or travel.

Not that there has to be a next time.

Oh, I have been trying
to cultivate new friends.

Then, we should have lunch.

I'd like that.