05x10 - The Informant

Episode transcripts for the TV show "The Blacklist". Aired September 2013 - current.*
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Former government agent Raymond "Red" Reddington (James Spader) has eluded capture for decades. But he suddenly surrenders to the FBI with an offer to help catch a t*rror1st under the condition that he speaks only to Elizabeth "Liz" Keen (Megan Boone), a young FBI profiler who's just barely out of Quantico.
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05x10 - The Informant

Post by bunniefuu »

Don't look now, but...

look, look, look, look, look!

Okay, I just watched that, and I think I'm pregnant.

And he's walking over!

- God.

It's Bronwyn.

- What?

It's almost 11:00.

Don't answer it.

I have to.

Yes?

Just...

hang on one second.

Can you say that again?

That prick Oliver threw a fit, so they bumped up the meeting.

We're presenting tomorrow, which means I need to get back tonight, - and you're...

- Rebooking your flight.

Out of Newark.

My God.

You're serious?

What is that music?

You're not out on a Tuesday, are you?

No, no.

I, um...

You hate Newark.

Almost as much as I hate Oliver, but the meeting's moved, which means I need a flight.

Hang on.

Here's my cab.

Call when you get this fixed.

I'm sorry.

I wasn't avoiding you earlier.

It's my boss...

she's a bitch.

- Found it!

- We got what we came for.

Finish them off.

The police are wrong.

They think some excon named Navarro k*lled Tom.

He didn't.

Paris, I'd like you to meet Elizabeth.

Paris and I first met when he was a saucier at La Bernadin.

- Pleasure to meet you.

- Shall I set a third place for lunch?

No, thank you.

You may want to think twice.

He's making a turbot with a matsutake mushroom broth.

Another time.

Someone else k*lled Tom.

- It wasn't Navarro.

- I wish I knew more.

All I know for certain is that the men who d*ed in your home were members of the Nash drug syndicate.

I believe they were hired to go after Tom.

I've pursued other members of the organization for more than a year, and they've proven to be completely ignorant of the incident...

or whoever hired them is powerful enough to keep them quiet.

Liz.

I didn't know you were back.

- It's good to see you.

- It's good to be seen.

How are you?

How's Aram?

How are you and Aram?

Boring.

Blissful.

Domestic.

I'm so happy for you.

How's Agnes?

- I should go.

- Wait.

I'm...

I'm here about a case.

You don't want to hear it?

I want to hear about boring and domestic.

I'll let you handle the case.

What do you know about the nervegas att*ck in Toronto?

57 people d*ed.

Members of the t*rror1st cell claiming responsibility have been taken into custody.

On Monday, the U.S.

Treasury will most likely attempt to freeze the bank accounts which financed the att*ck.

Liz isn't coming back, is she?

12 hours ago, a man known as The Informant accessed a list of those accounts on the classified computers used by the Senate Intelligence Committee.

And the list of bank accounts he stole?

Reddington believes he plans to ransom them back to the account holders themselves, giving them a chance to transfer their assets before the Treasury freeze goes into effect.

Yeah, but can't the Treasury track the transfers?

They did...

to t*rrorists in Toronto, Barcelona, and Paris.

We know these accounts are financing terrorism.

What we don't know is the identity of the account holders.

What do we know about the theft?

All right, the list was apparently on the classified computers at the Senate Intelligence Committee.

Now, Senator Cooligan insists he was at dinner last night when his badge and password were used - to access the classified computers.

- So, we're looking for someone who had access to the senator's credentials.

What do we know about his staff?

All right.

11 members.

All with some level of restricted access.

Two are out of the country, and six others have solid alibis with Capitol Police.

And the remaining three?

Two of them are waiting to be cleared for questioning because they are also working for the Committee.

- And this guy...

Bishop.

- Right.

Howard Ray Bishop.

Political aide who has held positions with State, Treasury, FDA...

All of which have suffered leaks from The Informant.

Navabi, Ressler, locate Bishop and get him in here for questioning.

Aram, find everything you can about this guy.

Calls, texts, creditcard swipes...

I want to retrace every step he's taken in the last 48 hours.

There he is.

11:00.

Yes, I already explained.

It's a nonissue.

I'm not talking about this on the phone.

- Does he look uneasy to you?

- Aram, do you have his cell?

I do, and he is not using it.

If Bishop's on a cell, it's either not registered in his name or it's a burner.

Yes.

I understand.

What do you say we let this thing play out?

Aram, we're going to come.

Copy that.

Coms are up.

Hey, Navabi.

What makes you so certain Keen's not coming back?

Just a feeling.

- I'm really worried about her.

- If I were her, I'd do whatever it takes to find my husband's k*ller.

Looks like lunch.

What do you mean, "whatever it takes"?

I mean breaking the rules, ignoring the law...

- whatever it takes.

- To find your husband's k*ller?

That's actually sort of sweet.

There's nothing sweet about a cop who breaks the rules.

Says the man who never jaywalked.

Or had a hair out of place or even a wrinkle in his suit.

Agent Ressler, you know you'd make an amazing criminal.

If you were a crooked cop, no one would ever know.

I would.

He's on the move again.

I'm meeting a friend.

- He's not here.

- He made us.

Aram, notify MPDC and the Capitol Police and tell them to throw a net and see if you can't pull the CCTV in the area.

This guy's here somewhere.

He couldn't have gotten far.

Excuse me.

I need to talk to somebody.

I have information about a crime.

What?

Hey.

It's me.

You were right.

That lead on Reddington finally heated up.

- Keen?

- Yeah, she's back.

How you want to handle this?

You want us to move in?

No, no, no.

Leave her be.

She's not going anywhere.

This may take some time.

We'll let things run their course.

I'll handle things my end.

I'll be in touch.

You're lying.

No, I'm bearing witness.

To a hitandrun that happened just as the sanctions list was being stolen.

It's convenient.

A woman was k*lled.

I gave the cops a description of the car.

I wish I knew more.

I don't.

If you did see this hitandrun, why wait 24 hours to report it?

Because...

I was with a married woman when I saw it, and...

my coming forward would...

expose her.

Does your friend have a name?

Sonia Fisher.

Judge Sonia Fisher.

I reported the crime, just no who I was with when I saw it.

And Howard Bishop was with you at the time?

- Yes.

- Had he been with you all night?

She told the truth about the crime.

She lied about the affair.

We lied.

My husband was suspicious.

He hired a P.I.

to follow me.

And that's who I thought I was running from in the restaurant.

We were meeting for lunch, and he ran so we wouldn't be seen together.

I'm not proud of the affair, but it proves that I'm not a thief.

I did not steal the sanctions list.

The Informant's name is Howard Bishop...

a staffer in Senator Cooligan's office.

Quick work, Harold.

Celebratory drink?

Paris makes a rye and absinthe cocktail that could blind an elephant.

Nothing to celebrate yet.

That's delicious.

Wealth is such a privilege.

I've learned to love it.

Well, it's not emotional, like hearing Maria Schneider's "The Thompson Fields" for the first time or watching the sun set over the caldera in Santorini.

But for pure, meaningless joy, nothing compares.

We didn't catch Bishop.

He turned himself in, claiming to be a witness to a hitandrun.

Do you know if he's sold the list yet?

No.

Nor who the buyer may be.

We think he's selling it to an account holder, but we can't ID them.

I'm hoping you can.

Elizabeth is back.

So I hear.

How is she?

Determined to find Tom's K*llers.

That's understandable.

I'm the devil on one shoulder, and you're the angel on her other.

She's in troubled waters, Harold.

Please help her to navigate them.

Detective...

Singleton, right?

You remember.

Last time we spoke, you were just getting out of the hospital.

How you feeling?

Much better.

Thank you.

- May I come in?

- Now's not a good time.

Can I get your card?

I'll call you.

I gave you my card last time we spoke.

It wasn't a good time then, either.

Then you vanished, and all these months later, I'm still waiting for your call.

I went away.

I just got back.

Day before yesterday.

6:38 p.m.

You're watching my apartment.

I'm trying to find your husband's K*llers.

Thought you'd call when you got back.

Then again, I thought you'd call before you left.

Would you like a cup of coffee?

Read my mind.

Hermann!

Mr. Reddington.

I must say, I was surprised to get your call.

I was under the distinct impression that our private banking minimums were present beyond your reach.

My God!

I've missed your tightly wound officiousness...

all clenched and pink and puckered.

Perhaps this will loosen your stool.

It's true...

I had a setback.

But I'm flush now, and my assets are seeking shelter from the storm.

- Nine figures?

- Midnines.

I haven't read the fine print, but I do believe that meets your minimums.

It will be a pleasure doing business with you again.

Throttle back, Hermann.

You're the fourth bank I've met today.

I'll tell you the same thing I told them.

- What's this?

- Account numbers.

I need the names behind the numbers.

ThThese are not our accounts.

I couldn't possibly...

This is an opportunity.

The U.S.

government is about to freeze those funds.

If I can ID the account holders and notify them before the freeze goes into effect, I'll be owed a favor by individuals who will be in desperate need of safe haven for the very funds I'll have secured for them.

If you can help me identify those account holders, I'd be only too happy to refer them to you.

You must have some means of identifying such promising new clientele.

He stabbed my husband.

The man with the Damascus Kn*fe?

Navarro worked for him.

These three...

worked for Navarro.

Part of the Nash syndicate.

Used to run dr*gs outside of the Kaufman Food and Liquor.

And Damascus...

who is he?

I have no idea.

Look...

we questioned Navarro.

Nothing stuck, so we had to kick him loose.

Why were these men here?

I don't know.

No idea what their connection was to your husband?

There was no connection.

He was helping a friend.

Nik Korpal.

Was also k*lled.

- Know why he was helping Dr.

Korpal?

- No.

The b*ll*ts pulled from these bodies didn't match any of the weapons found at the scene.

Someone k*lled your attackers.

Any idea who?

I was unconscious at that point.

How'd you and your husband get to the hospital?

What?

Who took you there?

I don't know.

I know you already know this...

so consider this a friendly reminder.

You're an accessory if you help someone get away with a crime.

That's a friendly reminder?

In case you misplaced the last one.

If you think of anything, give me a call.

And who might you be?

I'm not helping you.

You can't make me.

The Monetary Authority caught Miss Isaacson trying to hack into our accounts.

A judge reduced her sentence to nine months in exchange for her agreeing to help identify vulnerabilities in our own system.

Ooh, a fox in the hen house, Hermann.

You'll have to keep a close watch on the chickens.

If anyone can put names to the numbers you gave me, - it's Miss Isaacson.

- I'm not going to.

- Name your price.

I.

- Don't want your money.

What do you want?

Bite me.

A woman after my own heart.

You're an anarchist.

Did you know Charlie Chaplin was an anarchist?

I've cultivated a healthy hatred for governments and rules and all the incumbent fetters.

I understand.

Well, Hermann.

We tried.

Perhaps next time.

- Wait a minute.

What about Sogisan?

- The tattoo artist?

I helped him secure a very rare dye several years ago.

I'm sorry...

a tattoo artist?

A reclusive but visionary artist, which is all the more impressive considering he does his best work after drinking himself halfblind.

Otaru, Hokkaido Prefecture.

You get me those names, I'll get you an appointment within the week.

And if I'm lying, you could always hack into the bank and steal the whole omakase.

I'm sure Sogisan will do wonders with that whisper of unmarked flesh below your suprasternal notch.

Just get me the appointment, and I'll get you the names.

Perhaps Tweety Bird or Yosemite Sam.

Or a lady riding a money wrench.

Reddington identified the names on the list.

We believe the buyer is Rosmin Hamzah, a Bruneian national with extremist ties in Southeast Asia.

Why him?

Well, based on the names Mr.

Reddington provided, we put out an alert.

TSA flagged Hamzah 12 hours ago at Dulles under an assumed name, and Bureau agents have since tracked him to a hotel in Dupont Circle.

Have Ressler stay with Bishop.

Take a team and follow Hamzah.

If Reddington's right, we walk away with The Informant and a major sponsor of terrorism.

I'm looking for Navarro.

Who?

Never heard of him.

Don't walk away from me.

What you say to me?

This corner is run by the Nash Syndicate.

Navarro's your boss, and I need to speak with him.

You in the wrong place, lady.

I thought I told you not to walk away from me while I'm asking you...

I said, you in the wrong place.

Now start to drive off, and we gonna...

You want me to drive?

Okay.

Whoa, whoa!

Hey, hey!

Stop!

You look pretty athletic in that track suit, but I got a full t*nk of gas, - so I'm gonna ask one more time.

- Stop!

- Navarro.

- Stop!

Stop, please!

ThThThere's these two guys.

Shelly and Madigan.

And they ran the block before I took over.

And Navarro?

I don't know who that is!

Please, stop!

Crisanto!

He'll know who you're looking for.

- Keep talking.

- Crisanto.

He...

He does the pickups for the money.

I call him for the reup, he comes.

Okay, well, give him a call.

Unless you want to take another drive.

If you panic, you'll run out of air.

If you run out of air, you'll pass out.

And if you pass out, you can't answer my questions.

And if you don't answer my questions, I'll k*ll you.

Got it?

Navarro.

Where is he?

Never met him, but I know a guy.

PeeWee.

Runs things for Navarro.

He'll know.

PeeWee will know.

And where's PeeWee?

Hamzah's driver dropped him off at Union Station.

Bishop's heading south on 6th.

Let's assume we're headed your way.

I'll notify MPDC.

If Bishop's The Informant, his alibi with the judge was a lie, which means she's in on it, too.

One bad guy at a time, okay?

I'm busy.

Mr. Sturgeon.

The man you're tailing is a client.

Am I tailing someone?

Tell your team to back off.

I thought I was just out picking up lunch.

Bishop's The Informant.

He stole the list.

You nudged in, and then I gave him an alibi.

The hitandrun.

So much for lunch.

The hitandrun was a m*rder.

The judge swore it was an accident because the judge does what you tell her to do.

Yep, just like you.

Which is why when I told her to say that Bishop was with her when she saw it, that's what she did.

How's that for power?

I got a judge to admit to an affair she wasn't having.

There's nothing I can do.

- We already got teams on the buyer.

- Then improvise.

Tell you team to stand down, or I will leak the dirt I have on you and you will be put away for life.

I need a 20 on Bishop.

Something's wrong.

Bishop's turning away from the station.

What do you mean?

His buyer is here.

He's made you.

If you don't reposition, we risk losing him.

I need you to divert all units to the west parking lot.

Suspect moving south, southwest.

Reposition.

Target's on the move.

Cover all southerly entrances.

Ressler, where are you?

Do you have eyes on the target?

Ressler, do you copy?

Howard Bishop?

FBI.

You're under arrest.

Hands in the air.

Navabi, I got Bishop in custody.

Hamzah's headed your way now.

You've just made a horrible mistake.

You're not my first client to grow a conscience.

Go on.

Open it.

I paid my debt.

I'm done.

You disobeyed me.

I said I'm through.

What are you gonna do?

Arrest me?

On what charge?

m*rder?

Of who?

A coverup?

Of what?

You have no evidence against me.

You don't even know my name.

But I know everything about you.

Starting with you pretending to be Frank Sturgeon and hiring me to dispose of the National Security Advisor.

You're a crooked cop, Agent Ressler.

You know what they do to crooked cops in prison?

One with such a pretty face?

You're right.

I can't arrest you...

but I can k*ll you.

Which is what I'm gonna do if you ever... ever...

get in touch with me again.

I'll be in touch.

It's your funeral.

Do you remember Henry Prescott?

Prescott?

The guy responsible for covering up Reven Wright's m*rder.

Yeah, I know who he is.

I just...

- Why are you asking me?

- Bishop is his client.

Who told you that?

Bishop.

I've been interrogating him for the last hour.

Where have you been?

Are you okay?

It took forever to process Hamzah, that's all.

What happened?

One minute, you're pulling Navabi off of Hamzah, the next, you're on top of him and Bishop.

Well, I thought he made us.

I was wrong.

Hardly.

Because of your arrest, Bishop and Hamzah are in custody, the sanctions list was recovered, and assets that would have been in the hands of t*rrorists have been frozen.

Bishop wasn't across town when the list was stolen.

The judge said they were together because Prescott told her to.

Why would she do that?

Bishop doesn't know, but the hitandrun was planned.

Prescott planted the judge there in advance as a witness, so it wasn't an accident.

It was m*rder.

The victim was Jasmine Perez, an MPDC Internal Affairs Investigator.

I got nothing from Bishop in terms of a motive or a suspect, but a good IA officer's worst enemy is a bad cop.

Ressler, Navabi, talk to IA.

Find the lead investigator.

See what he knows.

We've arrested a t*rror1st and a traitor.

If a crooked cop is in the story, I want him arrested, too.

PeeWee.

Who's asking?

Crisanto tole me you could bring me to Navarro.

I just work the grill.

And launder money for Navarro.

Where's he keep the money?

Who the hell are you?

I'm the woman you're taking to Navarro.

Now, you can either bring him a stranger, or you can bring him a stranger who you let burn all his money.

What's it gonna be?

Detective Farwell, we appreciate you taking the time to speak with us.

About time the Feds got involved.

What makes you say that?

Past month, Detective Perez had a few investigations go south on her.

Evidence went missing, cops walked back testimony.

She thought there was dirt in the department.

Well, what did you think?

I think she was on to a dirty cop, and he k*lled her to keep her quiet.

We went though her files.

There was no mention of missing evidence or recanted testimony.

Not on departmental files.

Prying eyes.

Offline, she kept a more detailed accounting.

- Did you see those files?

- Yes.


And I told the investigating officers about them, but they showed no interest, which is why I'm relieved to see you guys.

Someone's got to police the police.

We'd appreciate you letting us into her apartment so we can access her personal server.

I'll do one better.

I'll tell you her password.

She shared it with me so I could keep up to date.

It's "Frank Sturgeon".

- Who's Frank Sturgeon?

- She never said.

Maybe the one who got away.

There's no record of a Frank Sturgeon on file.

Do you think it's an alias?

Ressler?

FBI.

We're here to search Detective Perez's apartment.

Ressler.

Did you check the bedroom?

What's going on?

You didn't say a word on the way over here.

We're looking for a copkiller.

- Is that it?

- What else would it be?

I don't know.

That's why I'm asking you.

Can you check the bedroom?

Please?

Look, this is Detective Perez with Internal Affairs.

Whoever this is...

I can't arrest you, but I can k*ll you.

Which is what I'm gonna do if you ever...

ever get in touch with me again.

- Yeah?

- Hello, Donald.

I think it's time for us to have a little chat.

I understand we're nowhere on the hitandrun?

Not yet.

Can we talk about Ressler?

Of course.

The way he acted at Union Station, um, his behavior at Detective Perez's apartment...

I can't put my finger on it, but he seems...

Unsteady.

You've noticed?

I have.

He seems, preoccupied.

- He won't talk to me.

- I'll speak with him.

Ask him to come up.

He's not here.

- Where is he?

- He got a phone call and ran out of Detective Perez's apartment.

I have no idea why.

Take Agent Mojtabai.

Find the judge.

I want to know why she lied and who she's covering for.

I'm worried about him.

So am I.

How did you know about Prescott?

I made it my business to know.

Did you make it your business to know his real name?

'Cause that would come in real handy right about now.

Why, so you can k*ll him?

How does The Informant fit into this?

The Informant is a client of Prescott's.

You're Prescott's fixer.

I put you on to The Informant so Prescott would ask you to get off.

- Why would you do that?

- As a test.

See how far down the rabbit hole you'd fallen.

Good news is, you passed.

Prescott asked you to look the other way, and you didn't.

Because of that, he's going to destroy me.

Thanks for nothing.

I thought we'd pay Bishop's makebelieve girlfriend a visit.

The judge?

Well, she knows I'm an agent.

We can't go in together.

As long as you play dirty cop, we'll be fine.

Under the circumstances, I think you can manage that, can't you?

- Who is it?

- Agent Donald Ressler.

I have a few followup questions.

I have nothing else to say to you.

Judge Fisher, I'm Raymond Reddington.

Let me begin by saying I'm a great fan.

You incarcerated three of my fiercest competitors.

It may come as a surprise, but I appreciate a good lawandorder judge.

What is this all about, Agent Ressler?

Well, Reddington and I, we...

have an arrangement, like you and Prescott.

II don't know anything about...

I know a man who gets people to talk in the most ingenious ways, utilizing the most unlikely tools for his trade...

animals, insects, a wellplaced cork.

Unfortunately, times being what they are, my associate has taken a job working on an ostrich farm outside of Texarkana.

But to get the truth out of a judge, I'm sure he'd come out of retirement.

We know Detective Perez was m*rder*d to cover up police corruption and that Prescott got you to lie about what you saw in order to protect her k*ller.

That's ridiculous.

The FBI is on its way right now to arrest you as an accessory after the fact of the m*rder of a cop.

- I told the truth.

- Well, Bishop's already in custody.

See, he confessed.

Cut a deal to testify against you.

Speaking of deals, here's mine.

I need to talk to Prescott, and given my relationship with Donald, he's no longer taking my calls.

Tell me how to find him, and I'll arrange safe passage for you out of the country to the city of your choosing.

Might I suggest Montevideo?

No better way to forget one's troubles than a night at the opera at the Teatro Solis.

Were you honest once?

I'm almost always honest.

Decent, then?

Moral?

I was all of those things once.

Then, my 17yearold son assaulted a woman and...

suddenly, I wasn't.

A parent from his class...

he was an attorney...

called to say my son was in custody, and the young woman was on the way to the hospital to have a r*pe kit administered, and...

did I want the whole thing to disappear?

The attorney said that?

The next day, the r*pe kit vanished.

I didn't ask him to do it, but I didn't make him put it back.

Without it, the charges were withdrawn.

And you were in his debt.

Six months alter, he made his first request.

The attorney did?

What's his name?

Mitchell Hatley.

I suppressed evidence, I let the guilty walk free.

How can I forgive myself?

I don't know.

I'm gonna get my coat.

Forgiveness doesn't mean accepting what you've done, Donald.

It means understanding that the line dividing good and evil cuts through the hearts of all of us.

Police.

FBI.

Please step back.

- Stand back.

- Please move away.

- Just out of nowhere.

- Watch the street.

Yeah.

Can I get you to stand back here, please?

I never thanked you for what you did after Audrey d*ed.

You were preoccupied.

I was crazed.

And convinced I should k*ll the man who sh*t her.

Do you remember what you told me to do?

I told you to go home.

You didn't.

You said that once you cross over, there are things in the darkness that can keep your heart from ever feeling the light again.

I didn't go home, but I never crossed over.

I never thanked you for that.

Nor should you.

Your circumspection afforded me the opportunity to take care of Audrey's k*ller myself.

It was a winwin.

I didn't want Prescott's real name so that I could k*ll him.

I wanted it so I could arrest him.

He goes to prison, so will you.

I know, but I'm in the darkness, and doing the right thing is the only way I'll ever feel the light again.

Hey, there.

Wow.

Looks like a fun time.

- Sorry to interrupt.

- Can we help you?

No, you're good.

This will just take a minute.

- What's going on?

- What are you doing here, Frank?

II'm sorry, who are you?

Do you know this man, Mitchell?

You must be the wife.

- Janet.

- Janet, right.

Well, I'm sorry, Janet, but your husband's been lying to you for a very long time.

Whatever this is, whoever you are, - we're just trying to have...

- Special Agent Donald Ressler, FBI.

Mitchell Hatley, I'm here to place you under arrest.

Arrest for what?

This is insane.

That is a terrible, terrible idea.

I know it is.

Get back inside!

Go ahead, Agent Ressler.

Pull the trigger.

If you don't, we both go to jail.

Come on!

Do it!

Donald.

What the hell are you doing here?

Open up.

Remember me?

PeeWee sends his regards.

Put 'em on.

Got a minute?

Agent Ressler, please sit.

There's something I need to talk to you about.

It'll have to wait.

- I'm afraid it can't.

- There's been an incident.

I got a call from the Bureau of Prisons.

There was...

an accident involving the transport vehicle moving Prescott.

The transport was struck by an unknown assailant.

We assume one of Prescott's many friends felt he'd been compromised and didn't want to see him make it to court.

The drivers...

they somehow managed to escape.

But Prescott...

Prescott wasn't so lucky.

My good friend Donald Ressler sends his regards.

Aah, aah!

As much as it pains me that Prescott won't have his day in court, the records we've recovered will help us prosecute dozens of his clients.

What's this?

A signed confession.

I don't accept.

Why not?

When Prescott's files came in, I...

thought maybe your name would be inside.

It wasn't.

Well, it should have been.

What happened with Prescott, the missing file...

Reddington did that to protect me.

It's not right.

I... I'm not okay with it.

I think that you deserve truth.

I know what's inside this letter.

Maybe not all the details, but I can guess.

Like I can guess how sick you're feeling inside.

I'm not interested in your feelings, Agent Ressler.

I'm not interested in what you want.

None of us are the people that we were before this task force started...

before Reddington.

So, I'm going to hold on to this letter with the expectation that I'll find you at your desk first thing tomorrow morning and every morning after that, ready to do your job until the work of this task force is finished.

Then, and only then, will I send this letter through the proper channels.

And I expect you to do the same for me.

I hope you don't take this the wrong way, Donald, but we've been seeing an awful lot of each other.

I made it perfectly clear I wanted Prescott to go to jail.

- You had him k*lled!

- I did.

I never asked for your help.

With all due respect, I didn't k*ll Henry Prescott to protect you.

I k*lled him to protect myself.

The man knew the nature of my relationship with the FBI, and I couldn't risk that information coming to light in a public trial.

And my file?

You had it removed from Prescott's records before they were taken into custody.

Well, I won't trade being under his thumb for being under yours.

Sins should be buried like the dead.

Not that they may be forgotten, but that we may remember them and find our way forward nonetheless.

I hope this will help you do just that.

Besides, after today, I'd have no reason to think you'd respond to threats, and blackmail is such a nasty business, particularly among friends, don't you think?

There was a man at my house the night you k*lled my husband.

He had a Damascus Kn*fe.

Who was he?

I can't remember.

What about...

him?

His name was Nik Korpal.

My husband was helping him...

helping him with something that got them both k*lled.

Then him...

then her.

You don't get it.

That guy Nik...

What about him?

Your man wasn't helping Nik.

Nik was helping your man.

Nik was helping Tom.

With what?

I can't...

If they ever found out, I would...

Aah!

Okay.

This is Okay.
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