01x07 - A House Is Not a Home

[bunniefuu]

Previously on "The Player"...

If I had any new information about your wife, don't you think I would tell you?

Cassandra: Should we both share what we've been doing off-hours, when we think no one is watching?

Because I'm up for it if you are.

Johnson, old friend. How are ya?

I'm well, Samuel.

This new player of yours, Alex Kane, our friends like him very much.

I found some old pictures on a S.I.M. card.

Dates are off by three days. It doesn't make any sense.

10 digits usually means a phone number!

702's a Vegas number.

Don't try and find me, please.

Who's that guy? Where... where is this?

Miami International Airport.

This is a trail, and we will follow it.

[mid-tempo electronic music plays]

[cellphone ringing]

[ringing continues]

[muffled shouting]

[clock beeps]

[people screaming]

♪

Barbara, what are you doing here?

Well, you never answer your phone.

Realtor's coming this afternoon, and I need you to sign these papers.

Realtor?

[scoffs] I'm not selling Ginny's house.

Well, you don't have to.

I'm gonna take care of everything.

You can't just blow into town and make these kind of decisions on your own.

Well, you seem to have forgotten in your never-ending divorce that I'm the one who co-signed Ginny's loan.

You think I want to be reminded every month that my daughter's dead?

No, I'm sure you don't. [sighs]

Let me take the house off your hands.

I don't want your money.

You blame me.

You could have left her alone.

[cellphone rings]

[sighs]

I got to go.

I'll wait.

Here?

It's work. I could be gone all day.

Well, the thing is, Alex, you know, I just... can't step foot back in her house.

I can't.

I understand.

I'll leave you a set of keys.

Call off the realtor until I get back, and we can talk.

We have a lot to talk about, Alex.

I'm Jemma Rashard, business blogger for the Chicago Daily Journal.

I'm standing outside of U.S. Continent Trust, which just experienced a devastating blow today, emotionally and physically.

Share prices have already dropped.

Homeland Security and the media are operating on the assumption that this is an att*ck by foreign t*rrorists.

And you're telling me they're wrong.

If they were t*rrorists, Ada would have red-flagged any known aliases, issued visas, or border crossings.

So this bomber is homegrown?

Nothing scares the feds more than an unpredictable lone wolf.

So we let the country dissolve into fear while the feds chase a ghost for a few days?

That's where you come in, Alex.

The blast originated on the sixth floor...

U.S. Continent Trust's in-house legal department.

We believe they were the intended targets.

Who are their enemies?

They're bank lawyers.

Oh, so, it's a short list.

I've scanned their E-mails for threatening language.

Our suspects include business rivals, disgruntled employees, occupy Wall Street protest radicals.

But look.

[tablet whooshes]

Johnson: This is our guy entering at 7:37 A.M. Central Time.

Notice the toolbox.

Johnson: And this is him exiting 22 minutes later.

No toolbox. Mm.

He knows where the cameras are.

Look... he kept his head down and his back turned.

Which means facial recognition isn't an option.

He can hide from the cameras but not from the b*mb's forensics.

The feds will be all over this.

You have us.

A head start... that won't last long.

The race is on, Mr. Kane.

The bet... can Alex Kane apprehend the Chicago bomber before the feds?

Where's Cassandra?

I have some business in Chicago.

Cassandra will be your ear once we land.

I'll be your on-the-ground resource.

I don't need you looking over my shoulder.

Unless you fall into another pit.

What about that video you showed me... the guy Ginny was with, where he was going with her?

Got any leads?

Mr. Kane, your wife could be anywhere, and anywhere is a lot of ground to cover.

Why don't you just focus on the task at hand.

Interesting article... on U.S. Continent Trust in the Financial Times.

It'll make our flight go faster.

Looks like it'll put me to sleep.

Exactly.

[computer beeps, hums]

[computer warbles]

Brilliant.

[computer chimes, beeps]

That's not right.

Enhance.

[sighs] Where are you?

[tense music plays]

Alex: Cassandra, can you hear me?

[gasps]

[tablet beeps]

Alex, I'm with you.

[sirens wailing]

Alex: I'm at the blast site.

This place is a zoo.

Any idea how to get inside?

There's a present for you in the back of the car.

[tablet beeps]

[latch clicks]

You shouldn't have.

I was hoping for a six-pack and a couple Cohibas, but I guess this will do.

You're welcome.

Cassandra: The glasses have an embedded micro-camera.

I can see what you can see.

Really?

Now you're a little more my type.

You've got a Department of Structural Engineering I.D.

I'd say you've come to check the integrity of the building after the blast.

There's a case in there, as well.

You're gonna need it.

What's this?

Consider it a time machine.

It's gonna give you a 24-hour lead on the feds.

[indistinct conversations]

[police radio chatter]

You need to find the seat of the blast.

[fit band beeping]

What's this thing doing?

It's analyzing vaporized residue for identification of chemical markers and toxins.

[electricity crackles]

He can't hide from forensics, remember?

[beeping continues]

[tablet warbles]

Okay, I'm getting a reading.

You've reached the hot ring.

[indistinct conversations]

Hey.

[wind whistling]

This guy knew exactly what he was doing.

The b*mb was well-designed... a lot of shrapnel, lateral spread radius.

Very targeted.

If he wanted to blow the hell out of this floor, that's exactly what he did.

Our lone wolf has skills.

[fit band beeping]

Hey.

[beeping continues]

I've got eyes on me. Tell me you got what you want.

Semtex with trace evidence of DMDNB, a detection taggant used only in the United States.

You can't just pick up semtex at your local hardware store.

The stuff is seriously regulated.

Our guy had to have a supplier, someone not afraid of breaking a few dozen federal laws.

Check with demolition contractors in the tri-state area.

How about one with a revoked license, criminal record, and black market connections?

[sighs]

This charmer goes by the name of "Beemer."

He's a one-stop shop for all things that go bang.

Bit of a long drive.

I'm relaying the most direct route to you now.

Last one. Thank you.

Letts: Mm-hmm.

And remember, you have a 9:00 A.M. tomorrow morning, so...

You boys behave.

Okay, Farrah. [chuckles]

Mr. Johnson.

Farrah.

Samuel.

[both chuckle]

Looking sharp as ever. Oh.

Good to have you home.

I wish it were more pleasant circumstances.

Seeing you makes it more pleasurable circumstances.

I know you're partial to habushu, but I just happen to have a Macallan '39 that might make you change your mind.

I regret that I'll have to refrain.

Game time?

Game time.

Game time.

I fear that you've become vulnerable.

You know that FBI Agent Nolan and her alliance with the Detective Brown and his relationship with the new Player... all your troubles started when he came on board.

Now, these things don't just happen.

Someone's coming after my House.

It would seem... death by a thousand cuts.

Tell me about Alex Kane. How did you recruit him?

I didn't.

And how is Cassandra?

Exceptional, as always.

Loyal?

She is.

So, you told her the truth about her family.

And she stayed?

I haven't seen the need yet to make that disclosure.

My people are digging. We'll get the answers we need.

Know that the council has only your best interests in mind.

As long as my interest aligns with theirs.

I hope that you'll go by the old neighborhood while you're here.

We should never forget where we came from.

Oh, from the womb to the tomb, forgetting is not an option.

[grunts]

Hey, Edward Murphy?

Beemer?

Hey, you a cop? Let me see your badge.

I just want to talk to you for a moment.

They always have to run, don't they?

♪

[grunts]

Hey! Who blew that building?

What are you talking about, man?!

Contractors, t-they need, like, a little extra firepower, so I help them out, but that's all.

Selling semtex to t*rrorists is more than helping out.

It's treason.

I don't know any t*rrorists!

I don't know what you're... Look!

Look, I-I got paperwork. I got files.

You can check them.

In here?

Yeah, yeah. Check inside.

Come here.

Ah, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!

Come here.

Okay, okay!

Just because a man runs doesn't mean you have to give chase, Alex.

Beemer: [grunting]

Have a seat.

Ah!

I cracked Mr. Beemer's computers before you were out the door.

Yeah, you could've mentioned that before my face was bleeding.

And miss all the fun?

Mentioned what?

This... this is not good.

Yes.

Mr. Beemer seems to have unloaded enough semtex for a small army.

Yeah. And our bomber's not done.

[computer warbles]

The gamblers confirm your hunch, Alex.

There are side bets indicating that hundreds of lives are at risk.

The semtex... who'd you sell it to?

Unh-unh. I don't take names, man.

It's bad for business and my... and my longevity.

Come on!

Aah! Ow!

Who was he?

All right! All right! Look, he was just some guy.

He had a legit Department of Transportation I.D... Aah!

Okay, you're gonna tell me who he was.

He works for these, like, demolition pros.

Uh-huh?

I-I don't know! Like blowing up old bridges!

When did the deal go down?

Uh, last Thursday around 4:00.

You sure?

Yeah, yeah!

Ow! Ow.

You're not gonna arrest me?

You've got bigger problems than me, my friend...

Homeland Security.

Oh, not again.

[sighs]

Hey, our guy's got surveillance cameras.

Maybe our bomber drove out here.

I'm scanning Beemer's footage from last Thursday, cross-referencing license plates with current D.o.T. employee records.

Look, I don't mean to rush you, but the ticking clocks around here go boom.

[engine revs, tires squeal]

No hits.

All right, check again... this time the records of past employees who've been laid off or fired.

Okay, yep, brilliant, brilliant. Got it.

Man: [singing in Spanish]

[woman singing in Spanish]

This guy's not a t*rror1st.

That's a rather bold statement considering you've only seen a photo.

Yeah, but I'm guessing, what, married with kids, no criminal record?

Three for three.

That's not the profile of a homicidal bomber.

Javier was a demolitions expert for the Illinois Department of Transport.

He was let go three years ago.

Budget cuts.

Does "disgruntled" fit your profile any better?

Yeah, but he didn't att*ck the D.o.T.

He hit a bank... and not for money.

Ah, this doesn't make any sense.

Look, get me his home address.

I can tell a lot more about a guy from his sock drawer than from his job history.

[chuckles]

[siren wails in distance]

Are you Mr. Johnson?

Why do you ask?

'Cause nobody else is brave enough to get near that stoop.

[chuckles lightly]

Well, that's good to know.

People 'round here say you went triad, but my mom says you went legit, made a man out of yourself, even with your dad gone and all.

Oh, that's what they say, huh?

Yeah.

But you got to have some money, though... nice car, nice shoes... [chuckles] keeping this house empty all these years.

You know what that place is worth?

Yeah.

I know exactly what it's worth.

Well, anyway, man, this is for you.

Oh.

Yo, little man.

Fight the good fight.

Yeah.

[chuckles]

Neighborhood.

[engine shuts off]

I'm gonna take a wild guess and say U.S. Continent Trust owns Javier's house.

Mm, it looks like Javier's original lender tranched his mortgage, bundled off the service rights to a Chinese lender, and then it was purchased... mm, this is a mess.

[computer warbles, beeps]

But, yes, here it is. U.S. Continent Trust owns it now.

So now we know why he hit the bank.

Yeah, the lawyers he att*cked were in charge of the Legacy Asset Division.

Which means?

They turn foreclosures into profits.

Javier was one of their cases.

[hinges creak]

You mean "victims."

I found his workshop.

He's got enough semtex to level a city block.

[sighs] He's not a t*rror1st.

He's a vigilante, which means he has a target list.

Cassandra, can you track down Javier's family... his wife and his kids?

Johnson: The bet is to capture the bomber, not save the family.

Yes, but this guy is clearly unstable.

He could be a danger to his family.

Again with the savior complex.

Maybe, Mr. Kane, the guilt of dropping so many bodies is causing you to overcorrect.

[scoffs]

There are no more leads.

Well, then, Cassandra, any progress on identifying Javier's next target?

Cassandra?

Cassandra, I need your head in the game.

My head is always in the game.

[tablet warbles, beeps]

The wife's cellphone is pinging at a one-star motel near the airport.

I'm relaying coordinates to you now.

I'm on my way.

[tires screech, engine shuts off]

♪

Cecilia Cruz?

My name is Alex Kane. I'm looking for your husband.

He may be in danger.

Uh, girls, go outside, okay?

Play. Come on. It's okay.

Are you the police?

No, but I need to find your husband.

[sighs]

He left two days ago.

It's not like him.

He's a good father. He wouldn't just abandon us.

Can you tell me about the foreclosure, about the people involved?

O-Our loan officer said we qualified for a modification.

We sent in the paperwork six times, and... it turns out that they just dual-tracked us.

Dual-tracked?

The lawyers filed for foreclosure behind our backs.

They lied to us.

What they did to us was illegal.

So, Javier, he went to this reporter/blogger/businesswoman and asked her to tell our story, but she said that it was our fault that we had gotten in over our heads.

[breathes deeply]

And then, last month, they took our house.

[sighs] Javier... it was too much for him. He... he broke in half.

[sniffles]

I've never seen him so...

The bombing at the bank... oh, my God.

Mommy.

[gasps] D-Did Javi... did Javier...

Mommy.

I'm gonna find him.

Cassandra: Alex, I've got a visual.

[sighs]

[sobbing quietly]

His "L" pass was swiped on the orange line...

Ashland Station.

[sighs] He's got a b*mb.

Cecilia said he spoke to a reporter.

In his house, there were articles plastered all over his windows.

That reporter... uh, Jemma... Jemma Rashard?

Jemma is the real deal... degree from Northwestern, Webby Awards for investigative reporting.

Lately, her social-media posts indicate that she's upgraded to hobnobbing with lobbyists and C.E.O.s.

Parties, yachts, ski trips...

What's the connection to Javier?

They exchanged dozens of phone calls.

There's a transcription of an interview.

She was storing clips, logging research.

The story, though... the story's only half-written. She stopped for some reason.

Yeah, someone's got to her.

Check her financials.

Okay, she was drowning in student-loan debt.

Looks like it was resolved with one lump-sum payment.

Good call, Alex.

Well, so much for journalistic integrity.

Where is she now?

[whimpering]

Good news, Jemma.

I'm finally gonna get the story you promised me.

[gasping]

Only, this time, you're gonna be in it.

[whimpering]

You said that you would help me, that we'd get retribution for all the families, that my story was gonna put Webster behind bars.

[muffled mumbling]

Aah! [gasps]

I'll write whatever you want.

I'll post it today, right now!

That's the problem with you, Jemma!

You bow to the bullies.

But I don't.

[whimpering]

[timer beeps]

[gasps, whimpers]

My name is Javier Cruz.

I'm not the enemy.

The real enemy is U.S. Continent Trust.

They stole my home, like they did to thousands of others.

Someone has to stop them.

Alex, remember that 24-hour lead time?

You just lost it.

[horn honking, tires screech]

♪

[elevator chimes, bell dings]

[muffled shouting]

b*mb!

You see him?

[people screaming]

He's headed for the front doors.

Yeah, keep an eye on him.

The cops still think he's a t*rror1st, so they'll sh**t first and ask questions later.

Just do me a favor and keep him alive!

Alex!

Don't let him get away again!

Just grab him and end this bet now.

It's Jemma, right?

Oh.

Jemma, I need you to stay really still.

Try not to panic, and don't make any sudden moves, all right?

She's wearing enough semtex to blow the lobby.

Aah!

I've got 25 seconds!

You don't have enough time. I can send the elevator down... contain the blast in the concrete parking structure.

No! I can get it off of her!

There is nothing you can do. Let her go.

Stay really still. Stay still!

I can't disarm the b*mb, but it doesn't look like Javier rigged the vest.

[velcro crackling]

Good, that's good. Just like that.

I'm sending it down now. Get out of the door!

Just like...

Come on!

Jemma: Aah!

Alex?

Alex!

[engine shuts off, door chime rings]

Teddy Roe. Now that's the way to go... three-piece suit, hat, take that stroll down South Michigan Avenue.

[chuckles]

You know, he had his shoes...

[sighs]

Cassandra, I need eyes now.

Cassandra: Mr. Johnson? What's wrong?

Samuel Letts is dead.

[sighs]

[computer beeps]

Okay.

You're encased in marble and concrete.

I can't see you.

You need to get out of that mausoleum.

Use thermal imaging.

There's a funeral procession entering.

I've got moving heat signatures everywhere.

Radio frequencies in the area?

If I make it to my car, I don't want it to blow up in my face.

No R.F. in the area.

The car is clear. Get out of there.

[engine turns over]

[tires squeal]

Travers: This is Tad Travers.

The Chicago bomber has struck again.

I'm at the site of his latest att*ck.

We have another very serious situation on our hands.

Alex is down.

He's in a building... trapped... full of reporters.

Cops I can handle, but I cannot...

I will not have a Player exposed on my watch.

On it.

Crash all the social media, satellite feeds, wipe the hard drives.

Search the damn trash if you have to.

What's my E.T.A.?

[sighs] 2 minutes and 44 seconds.

[tires squeal]

Make it two flat.

[police radio chatter]

We lost the signal.

What? Come on! Let's go! Get it back up!

The satellite feed is down, man!

[coughing]

Hey, hey, hey, sh**t this! This is gold! Come on!

With what?!

With your phone!

[gasping]

You okay?

Alex: Right here. Right here.

Hey, Resource, I could use some resourcefulness.

I have been extremely resourceful, thank you very much.

Aw, what is going on here?

My phone's not working.

I just need a way out.

The parking garage in the basement has an entrance that leads out onto North Orleans.

Johnson should be there in about 30 seconds.

Hey, you, hero! I want to talk to you!

Hey!

Back through the lobby.

Escalator well, southern corner.

♪

Man: We have a possible suspect moving through the basement access!

Which way?!

Cassandra: Take the service hallway.

No, no, no, go right!

There's a delivery dock ahead.

Man: Please remain calm!

He's nearly there.

[sirens wailing]

Move towards the street!

Move in an orderly fashion towards the street!

[tires screeching]

[engine revving]

[tires squeal]

You put the secrecy of the House in jeopardy.

If Cassandra hadn't contained the damage, I'd have had no choice but to terminate your employment.

Don't worry, Alex. He can't k*ll you... yet.

We need you.

Well, now, now, Cassandra.

You know everyone is expendable.

Unless the gamblers love you, and, Alex, in our line of work, that's better than life insurance.

In fact, it is life insurance.

Alex: I didn't realize this is a popularity contest.

It's a game.

That means the Players have fans.

It's quite early in your career, Alex, but with these numbers, you're on track to surpass a legend in our field.

And who's that?

The man who just saved your ass.

Every Pit Boss was a Player, but not every Player survives to become a Pit Boss.

Found something.

Javier's car was recently impounded for unpaid parking tickets... four citations, all issued on Lake Shore Drive.

Why was Javier hanging around there?

What's the connection?

Dorian Webster has a second home on that street.

Who's that?

C.E.O. of U.S. Continent Trust.

Webster: I can get your house back.

Hell, I can get you a nicer one... bigger, with a pool, if that's what you want.

Javier: What I want is exactly this... you and me, right here, right now.

You're only making this worse for yourself.

Let me help you. We can work something out.

Yeah.

I should give you a chance to, uh, modify your situation.

[zipper clicks]

If you want to stop me... you'll have to k*ll me.

Webster was brought before a senate subcommittee to answer allegations of widespread industry fraud and corruption.

U.S. Continental Bank cut a deal.

They got a slap on the wrist and fined $500 million, or, more precisely, three business days worth of revenue.

Not a single executive was ever prosecuted, and Webster's annual bonus package was reported at $70 million.

It sounds like Javier's doing us a favor.

Well, you of all people should know the cost when a man chooses to make himself judge, jury, and executioner.

Yeah, but isn't that what we do, Johnson?

Webster: You want to blame someone for your problems.

I get that, but do you really think I make these kinds of decisions?

I work for a multinational corporation.

I answer to my shareholders, my board of directors.

I don't make policy.

These are standard industry practices.

Your standard industry practices destroy lives.

Bankruptcy, divorce... su1c1de.

Families torn apart for what, money?

You have blood on your hands.

Only this time, you have to look your victim in the eye.

Last chance.

k*ll me... or die.

[g*n clicking]

Son of a bitch!

[chuckles]

You thought you were free, didn't you?

But it was false hope.

You never even had a chance.

Tell me what I can do to make this right.

Please, I'm beg... [muffled] I'm begging you!

[muffled shouting]

[grunting, mumbling]

How does it feel to be trapped in a house that will blow your whole world to pieces?

[timer beeps]

Webster: [grunting]

And the one man who could set you free... does nothing... no matter how desperately you plead.

[grunts]

It's called helplessness.

That's what you're feeling.

[device beeps]

That's how you made thousands of innocent people feel.

And trust me... you never get used to it.

[whimpers]

Javier.

[grunts]

You don't want to do this.

I don't know who you are or what you want, but you cannot save him now.

He has to pay for what he did.

I don't want to save him.

I want to save you.

See, I know what it's like to lose everything... to see bad men do bad things and to want revenge.

I almost lost my soul thinking that way.

But my wife... she saved me.

[tape rips]

Get out of here!

Go, go!

No! I have to k*ll him!

Cecilia and your daughters, they love you.

You still have a family.

I will never see them again!

You can make that choice right now.

[breathes heavily]

You're not beyond redemption.

None of us are.

[sobbing quietly]

Take it.

Take it.

[sighs]

Hey.

[sobbing quietly]

[device clicks]

[breathes deeply]

[cellphone beeps, door opens]

You're a lunatic!

I'll see that you rot in jail for the rest of your life!

[chuckles]

Hey!

Where you going with him? Where are the police?

Well, you can't let him just walk away from this!

You're absolutely right, Mr. Webster.

A man should be held accountable for his actions.

[device clicks, beeps]

[car alarm blaring]

[engine turns over]

Ah.

Looks like your housing boom just went bust.

All Javier wanted to do was take care of his family.

Now he's gonna spend the rest of his life in jail.

His poor kids...

It may be some comfort to know Cecilia and her daughters will get their home back.

And they'll be receiving a very generous settlement from the bank.

The bank will settle out of court.

They won't see any of it.

I'm pretty sure Mr. Webster will have a change of heart.

That guy had no heart.

Sometimes, all it takes is the right person applying the proper pressure.

[cellphone beeps, door opens]

You think money can replace a father?

Depends on the father.

[tablet warbles, chimes]

[engine shuts off]

[knocks on door]

Ginny?

[tea kettle hissing]

Ginny?

[hissing stops]

Ginny, are you here?

It's me.

I'm here to help you. You can't trust Johnson.

[sighs]

Ginny, I can keep you safe.

[static crackling]

[crackling stops]

[cellphone rings]

[cellphone rings]

[cellphone beeps]

Johnson: Cassandra.

Are you all right?

They slit his throat like he was nobody.

Samuel Letts...

Do you have any idea who it was?

No. But they know me.

They k*lled him because he was asking questions... questions I need answered.

Who could even orchestrate such a thing?

Who would dare challenge the Council?

[sighs]

Cassandra, whatever agenda that you're working on, I need it to stop.

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

Don't.

Okay? Don't.

Look, I know you don't trust me.

And to be quite truthful, Letts thought it was foolish of me to trust you.

But right now, there are enemies encroaching.

Our lives and our safety is intertwined.

Do you understand?

And I need to know if you are with me.

Of course.

[sighs]

Barbara: [sighs] Sweet little girl.

You know, when she was 3 years old, she asked Santa to bring her a stethoscope.

I said, "Princesses wear tiaras, like Mommy's tiara."

Never should've got her the damn thing.

She probably would've stayed home.

[sighs]

I see you made yourself comfortable.

What's up with the box, Alex?

I'll buy your half of the house... fair market price.

Guess death blinds everyone to the truth, doesn't it?

Uh, what are you talking about?

It took me years to accept it... to stop the denial, the excuses.

[chuckles] I'm her mother.

It was the hardest thing I ever had to face.

Ginny was a liar.

Okay, Barbara, yeah... you've had enough.

Don't touch...

[sighs]

See what you made me do?

[sighs]

Let me just tell you something, okay?

Ginny never lived an honest day in her life.

And the sooner you accept it... the sooner you'll be able to let go.

[door closes]