08x06 - The Wellstone Agency

[bunniefuu]

"Not expressly stated." Five letters, second one is an "A." How about "tacit"?

No wonder I haven't been able to finish a crossword since you moved in with Max.

How is he, by the way?

I wouldn't know.

We broke up.

What?

How did I not know?

- When did he move out?

- He didn't.

His parents own the place.

It's one of their rentals.

So I'm staying on the pullout in the office.

You're sleeping - in your family restaurant?

- Before you freak out, it's just temporary.

Come sleep on my couch.

I'll help you binge-eat your way past Max, and you can help me figure out the three-letter word for "it has benefits." Uh, give me a minute?

Mm-hmm.

This is Park.

Yes.

Of course.

Sir, I'm sorry.

Can you hold for just one moment?

Hey, everything okay?

Landlord troubles.

Story of my life.

Didn't look like landlord trouble.

J-O-B.

Three across.

"It has benefits." The answer's "job." Go do yours.

I'll call you tonight.

Agent Park.

Why is it the really wealthy always want to own a restaurant?

I'm sure for some it has a lot to do with glad-handing and backslapping.

For me, it was sort of a friend in need.

Now it's a project.

We're expanding.

And this... an office.

With a stove and a walk-in.

Are you hungry?

I could make you an omelet.

- No, thank you.

I ate.

- Coffee?

Cooper's tied up at Main Justice.

He said you had a case.

What do you know about the Nuremberg trials?

m*llitary tribunals after World w*r II.

Allied Forces prosecuting n*zi leadership for w*r crimes.

They gave the devil his day in court and invented simultaneous translation to do it.

Are you giving me a case or a history lesson?

If it weren't for the Allies' desire to give Goering a fair trial, the Wellstone Agency might not exist.

In fact, it doesn't exist, not officially.

And yet its services have made thousands of illicit business transactions possible.

A translation service for crooks.

Crime is a global trade.

Criminals need to communicate, and that requires interpreters they can trust.

The Wellstone Agency provides just that.

A bunch of translators.

I believe Agent Keen recently acquired Wellstone's services.

If we find the interpreter she used, we may be able to find her.

Why come to us?

You're a criminal.

Haven't you used this company before?

I have.

But my point person and I recently had a falling out, and without him, I have no way to reach the senior leadership.

I need your help to get inside the company.

Have you considered simply leaving Keen alone, taking a breath to consider your role in all this?

Harold isn't in a meeting, is he?

No.

I came here to tell you I think what you're doing is wrong.

You're only making things worse for Keen by pursuing her.

It's Paula.

Glen's mother.

She says she needs to see you.

Says its urgent.

Agent Park, next time you feel the urge to unburden yourself, you can rest assured...

I've heard it all before.

It's a luxury to stand on the moral high ground and critique those of us on the low ground.

A lot of people do exactly that.

Until they need my help.

I'll never ask for your help.

And yet here I am asking for yours.

The Wellstone Agency.

It's the next name on the Blacklist.

According to Reddington, the agency'snner workings are cloaked in secrecy.

Even their own interpreters are kept in the dark as to who runs the organization.

So how do they communicate?

Through dispatchers who contact the criminal parties, arrange payments, and assign interpreters.

The dispatch has all the information.

The interpreters know nothing.

But Reddington's lost contact with his dispatch, - so what's our in?

- His interpreter.

Wellstone relies on its interpreters for referrals.

It's how they recruit translators.

So Reddington's interpreter's gonna refer someone we pick.

And that person gets brought in and vetted, giving him a window to access the system and get the name of the interpreter Keen used.

Maybe the name of the person she was negotiating with - and for what.

- Under normal circumstances, I'd reach out to Language Analysis.

But what our interpreter learns may compromise Keen.

So I want to keep this in-house.

Well, I only speak English.

I speak Korean.

Does sign language count?

Definitely not.

Then I'm down to six.

You speak six languages?

Well, not including Latin, which I doubt would come in handy, unless the criminal I interpreted for was the Pope.

Imagine that confessional.

Park, reach out to Reddington.

Tell him Aram's going in and to arrange a meeting with his contact.

Ressler, start laying the groundwork for a cover story.

As if I'm not already asking you to do too much, I need you to try and open this drive.

Okay.

Is this about a case?

I'm not sure.

Which is why I need you to keep this between us.

Nobody knows.

Especially Reddington.

- Paula, hi.

- Steven.

I got your message.

Is everything alright?

Oh, thanks for coming.

Hello, Bill.

Oh, uh, the girls and I were just tasting the cakes.

Come in.

Oh, would either of you like a slice of cake?

Um, lemon, carrot, and pink champagne.

No, thank you.

Maybe later.

What are we celebrating, Paula?

Maybe you boys should sit down.

Is Glen here?

Glen... transitioned.

I don't know what that means.

He d*ed.

What?

What do you mean?

From West Nile.

W...

Oh, come on.

Come on.

If this is one of Glen's dreadful practical jokes...

I would have gotten in touch sooner, but I have been so busy with the planning and the party.

He didn't want no regular funeral, you know.

Jelly Bean wanted his friends to send him off with a real shindig.

A potluck with dancing and...

And Huey, of course.

West Nile?

Paula, I am so sorry.

Oh, thank you, Bill.

When did this happen?

A bit over two weeks ago.

I know.

I should've called, but you slipped my mind.

And then Trudy and I were going through some of their dirty letters, and we found this.

I was halfway inclined to open it, but you were his friend, and I want to respect his wishes.

He didn't send me no letter.

Hey, Paula, what do you think about Luke bringing his chicken tater bake?

I think it'd be real popular.

I can't believe this is happening.

Boys, I got to go.

There is too much to do before Huey gets here.

But do come to the party.

Jelly'd want you there, tomorrow at 7:00 at the DMV.

And don't forget to bring a covered dish and your own tableware.

She was lucky to get out.

Jenna.

Hey.

I came as soon as I got your text.

What happened?

Fire in the kitchen.

The smoke alarm didn't work.

The doctors are prepping for surgery now.

But she's gonna be okay?

They...

They don't know.

Hey, talk to me.

What's going on?

Last year, we started to fall behind at the restaurant.

The banks wouldn't touch us, so Melissa went to a local guy for help.

You borrowed from a loan shark?

And it did help for a while.

But this month...

it's the fourth payment we missed in six months.

This is the guy who came to see you yesterday.

He did this to Melissa.

I knew it was dangerous not to pay, but I didn't think they'd do this.

What's his name?

He works with other people.

They'll come for us.

That won't happen.

I promise.

Let me take care of this.

She was living there.

You know that?

Melissa, the youngest daughter.

What, are you gonna arrest me?

For what?

Loan-sharking.

Arson.

Attempted m*rder.

I don't know where you got your information from, but nobody would be stupid enough to point the finger at me.

Is that a thr*at?

- Did you just thr*aten my witness?

- Take it easy.

Because that's sure as hell how it sounded.

Honestly, the gall!

After all I've already done for him?

All the jobs...

The attention paid.

All the time spent suffering his...

antics.

All the money...

That ridiculous sports car.

He was a civil servant, Raymond.

How could he explain all that stuff?

- The money and all.

- I understand that.

But why is it somehow my job to help explain away the fortune I paid him?

He had to say something.

Something, yes.

But the man told everyone he knew that he was Huey Lewis's muse.

How in any stretch of the imagination does that explain his crazy, extravagant lifestyle?

What, Huey Lewis bought him a red Mercedes?

And does Huey Lewis even have a muse?

Did Glen really tell his mother Huey would attend?

"This friendship with Huey has always accounted for everything...

My travels to Europe and Bangkok, all the cash, the cars, everything in Vegas..." I mean, I can't even...

"even the absence of any other long-term relationship over the last 30 years.

Huey is, in a word, the reason." Two words.

"Which is why his failure to attend my memorial would be seen as a snub so great that I'm afraid it may send Mother into a heartbroken tailspin which she may never recover from." Mm.

I mean...

Talk about the power of love.

How is this possible?

It's as if he's reaching up from the grave to torment and abuse me one last time.

Raymond, Glen needs you.

To do what?

To bird-dog some pop star to inform him that his most beloved songs were inspired by his bromance with a clerk from the DMV?

He needs you to convince Huey to come to his memorial.

Well, I'm not doing it.

It's his dying wish.

No, it's one of his dying wishes.

- What's the other?

- Forget it.

What does it say?

Ah.

"Mother wants to place my remains on her mantel.

I don't like the idea of spending my days looking down on Mother, so I want you to abscond with my ashes and spread them." Spread them where?

"I want to spend eternity at the glorious feet of that grande dame, the Statue of Liberty." I don't think it's legal to spread ashes on Liberty Island.

Well, it doesn't matter, because I'm not doing it.

I'm not lying to Paula or spreading his ashes...

...and I'm certainly not hunting down Huey Lewis or begging him to come to Glen's potluck memorial.

- What is it?

- It's Glen's mom.

She's asking if you can bake a tray of scotcheroos.

They're short on desserts.

Okay.

Raymond, you know we have to do this.

For Glen.

See if you can find Mr.

Lewis's address.

But I'm not breaking into the Statue of Liberty to spread Glen's ashes.

Stealing from Wellstone is a terrible idea, but Reddington's made it clear I have to vouch for you and get you inside the company.

So let me be blunt.

I'm not your friend.

I think that this is a su1c1de mission.

And the only reason I'm helping you is so that we both don't end up dead.

Okay, let me try and say this back to you.

I take the pill.

I black out.

Then I wake up in the custody of people I don't know for a test I might pass in the hopes I get the job instead of getting k*lled?

I told you it's a bad idea.

- Okay, if I could just get to...

- It won't work.

All I need is the name of one client's translator.

- They have to have logs of...

- You're not listening.

These people run a criminal enterprise.

They traffic in secrets.

And to protect those secrets, they will not hesitate to k*ll you or me or anyone else they think is a liability.

It's your funeral.

Welcome back, Mr. Stone.

Did you have a nice rest?

I, uh, don't remember getting here.

My name's Miss Jessica.

I'm here to discuss the matrix of tests we'll administer to see if you're a candidate for Wellstone.

Matrix of tests?

Uh, what tests?

I'm so glad you asked.

We'll begin with a simple polygraph-augmented consultation.

Baseline questions.

Work profile.

Personal history.

Relevant experience as well as potential conflicts.

And we'll follow that with an aptitude test, and behavioral inquiry.

Of course, we'll want to gauge the strength of your language of expertise.

Dialects.

Prose.

As well as vocabulary and expression.

And we'll audit that with some mock sessions, scripted scenarios based on actual encounters to test neutrality, composure, and patience.

But before all of that, I do want to stress that our primary objective here at Wellstone is privacy.

Without discretion, we can't protect our clients, ourselves, or you.

So, Mr.

Stone, can you be discreet?

Yes, I'm Mr.

Discreet.

You wanted to see me?

The arrest that you made earlier.

Mason Dieterle.

Yeah, he b*rned down my friend's restaurant.

I just got off the phone with the AUSA reviewing the case.

He told me that your friend passed away from her injuries.

I'm sorry.

He also told me that he declined to file charges for either arson or attempted m*rder.

What?

Why?

He...

He b*rned down that diner.

This was arson.

The AUSA said he didn't have any evidence to prove that.

Can you prove that Dieterle was responsible for that fire?

Do you have a witness?

A print on a can of gasoline or accelerant?

No, I just thought...

That's the problem.

You didn't think.

You reacted.

Dieterle was arraigned on a loan-sharking charge and made bail 20 minutes ago.

I'm concerned, Alina.

You have a history of acting on your anger, at times letting your emotions get the better of you.

Now your friend is dead, and the man that you think is responsible is back on the street.

I need you to promise me that you will not do anything about that.

Do I have your word?

Yes.

You do.

Mr. Lewis, I just want to say it's a privilege.

I mean, great pleasure to meet you.

Well, I appreciate that.

Thank you very much.

Thank you for agreeing to see me.

I take it you're something of a culinary man.

I love to cook.

Uh, to be honest, Mr. Homan...

Steve, please.

Okay, to be honest, Steve, I only agreed because my manager insisted.

Ah, I did Jerry a favor once.

Well, a friend of Jerry's.

Must've been, uh, quite a favor.

Uh, can I get you something, like coffee or...

Oh, no, no, no, no.

Thank you, thank you.

I don't want to take up any more of your time than necessary.

Mm-hmm.

I'm here because a dear friend of mine passed away recently.

- Pillar of his community.

- Mm-hmm.

Loved his mother, Paula.

- Wonderful, wonderful woman.

- Mm-hmm.

And he...

Well, he absolutely cherished your music.

- He knew every word of every song.

- Oh.

Really.

Now, I realize it's a bit of a long sh*t, but I was wondering if you might consider...

For a price, of course...

Might consider attending his memorial service at the Rockville, Maryland, DMV.

It's tonight, 7:00 p.m.

The DMV?

Yes, Glen was regional manager.

Did, um...

Did Jerry know that this is what you wanted to ask me?

As I said, uh, I sort of did him a favor once.

To play the funeral of some guy at the DMV?

Regional manager.

You do know that Quincy Jones asked me to sing on "We Are the World." Ah, uh, a stirring performance.

And a great honor and...

And tribute.

Love of your fellow man and all that.

Not entirely unlike the love a son might have for his mother.

A desire to make her proud.

- To impress her.

- Mm-hmm.

Things were said through the years.

I think he...

He told his mother he inspired you to record "Workin' for a Livin'" after a rousing game of beer pong in the back of a bar in Teaneck.

- And she believed him?

- Believed him?

Oh, no, no.

To her, it would make perfect sense that her son was singularly responsible for your legendary song.

And that you, who benefited from her son's inspiration, would want more than anything to show up at his memorial service to pay your respects.

Okay.

Is...

Is this a joke?

Did...

Did Ralphie put you up to this?

I am so sorry.

I mean it.

You can name your price.

To play the Rockville DMV?

Oh, no, no, no.

You don't have to play.

Just show up.

Say a few words.

Plus, if you do, I'll owe you a favor.

I'm a good person to have in your debt.

So you'll do whatever I ask?

Absolutely.

Great.

Then I'm gonna ask you to please leave because I got an interview across town in an hour, and I got to eat and get ready, and I don't want to be late.

Sorry.

You have to go.

Thank you, Mr. Stone.

Miss Jessica will be with you momentarily.

Okay.

Yes.

This is certainly unexpected.

That is what I thought.

- What happened to being discreet?

- Excuse me?

I was waiting for you when I spilled my soda.

Then I came to your desk for a tissue when I found this on your computer.

- Is this how this works?

- I don't follow.

All of you people are putting me through a matrix of tests to find out if you can trust me, and yet you carelessly leave this client profile open on your laptop.

What if I were an FBI agent undercover and saw the profile of this guy, this...

Alexander Frayne?

This is sloppy.

I don't like it.

- Perhaps my assistant...

- It doesn't matter.

This is lazy.

It's unprofessional.

I'm sorry that this has shaken your confidence in us, Mr. Stone.

I do hope you'll reconsider.

- Reconsider?

- The job.

You passed with flying colors.

If you'll have us, we'd like to welcome you to Wellstone.

Harold, please give me good news.

Agent Motjabai got a name.

Liz's interpreter was Alexander Frayne.

Uh, he works in DC for the UN Human Rights Council.

We've notified MPD.

Units are en route to him now.

This is Alexander.

Mr. Frayne, you have a problem.

I got lots of them.

Who is this?

Someone who can offer you a way out.

The FBI knows you moonlight for the Wellstone Agency, and the MPD are on their way to arrest you.

They're here.

How did you know?

Make your way to Dupont Circle.

You're looking for a black Mercedes.

Northwest corner of Connecticut Avenue.

Hello, Mr. Frayne.

Who are you?

Why are you helping me?

Quid pro quo, Alexander.

You interpreted a meeting between this woman and another party.

I need to know who she met and what they talked about.

I can't help you.

Let me rephrase.

N-No, no.

I...

Wait, I'm...

I'm not saying I won't help.

I'm saying I can't.

I don't know who he was.

You facilitated their conversation.

He was Bosnian.

But they don't give out names.

Uh, she paid 700 grand for a manilla envelope.

I never saw what was inside.

Who has the names?

The head of the company, I guess?

I don't even know who that is.

But if you send the right message, he'll get it.

Your contact at Wellstone.

Call them.

Say you have a situation.

Let them know Raymond Reddington wants to help.

_ Jenna, nothing's gonna happen to you.

I promised you'd be okay.

I said I'd take care of it, and I will.

I just came to talk.

You sent men to Jenna's apartment?

You didn't have to do that.

I told you I just wanted to talk.

Hey.

It's Agent Park.

Something's happened.

I need your help.

Hello?

What the hell did you do?

- Jorgensen?

- They know.

About us.

The company knows there's a mole.

Uh, what, uh...

What are you talking about?

They think the FBI is onto them.

I told you that this was a mistake.

And now I got a target on my back because of you.

I got to call you back.

Is, uh, something wrong?

I need you to come with me.

The Colonel would like to see you.

Reddington.

I told him we were going to pick up Frayne, and now Frayne's gone because Reddington got there first.

But we sent agents.

Wellstone knows someone outed Frayne.

- Aram.

- I already called him.

He's not picking up.

Ah, finally.

Oh.

Uh, hello.

The Colonel here lost his hearing as a child.

Nasty case of meningitis.

Colonel?

Uh, the man who runs, uh, Wellstone is deaf?

Indeed.

The head of a company that provides translation needs a translator to be understood.

In this case, you.

So please sit.

♪ How long?

"You prevented the arrest of one of my translators.

You had him inform his contact that...

there is a problem in the company that you could solve." Yes, you have a mole.

Tell him he has a leak that puts us both at risk.

"No.

Impossible." It's why Mr. Frayne was nearly pinched and why the FBI knew where to find him.

"There is no leak." Uh, there is a mole, and he works for the FBI.

He led them to Frayne, which means he can lead them to you.

Now, you can be stubborn about it and wait around for the feds to show up, or you can do exactly as I say and live happily ever after.

"Do you know who the mole is?" Yes.

He's a federal agent working undercover as an interpreter.

"What do you want me to do?" First, delete my file.

Now.

Before the feds arrive.

Second, in exchange for giving you a way out, a new identity, I want a name.

Last week, a woman using the name Carolyn Givens hired Wellstone.

I want to know who she met with.

I can read.

"Wait.

The mole.

I need his name." Why?

It's over.

He won.

k*lling him won't change the fact that you need to come with me now.

"I need to know a name.

If you don't give me one, I'll k*ll him.

Either because he's the mole or to set an example of what happens when you betray me." Normally, I'm a big believer in example setting, but I specifically requested your newest interpreter because the leaks predate his employment at Wellstone.

He's not the mole.

And we need to go.

Now.

Okay, what do you mean he recorded the conversation?

Evidently, Reddington was wearing a wire...

One we'll tell the Justice Department that you were wearing.

You think we can make a case?

I do.

A lot of Wellstone employees and clients are going to prison.

But not the owner.

Mr. Reddington promised the Colonel that he'd help him escape in exchange for the name of the person that Liz met with.

You didn't see that person's name?

Mr. Reddington made sure I didn't.

Adin Markovic.

He's a Bosnian bounty hunter.

Evidently, Keen used Wellstone to hire him.

Mr. Reddington told you the name?

Why?

Because we're on the same team.

And because he knows we have to work together if we have any hope of bringing Keen home safely.

Adin Markovic, this bounty hunter, we'll see what we can find on him.

Agent Park.

I spoke with the AUSA.

There's been a development in the case involving your friend's death.

It appears Dieterle is missing.

Will you help?

Alina, you promised me you wouldn't do anything to Dieterle.

I need to know.

Did you break that promise?

No, sir.

Mr. Cooper.

Mr. Cooper, um, about, uh, this drive you wanted me to decrypt.

Uh, I can't.

I reached out to a friend at the NSA.

- Do you trust him?

- I do.

Good.

Because if he tells anyone about this, his life could be in jeopardy.

Keep me posted.

Yes, sir.

Raymond, you have to tell Paula he's not coming.

Ohh.

He gets her hopes up, and I have to be the one to dash them.

Glen at his finest.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

You came!

I brought the scotcher...

Hello.

Oh.

You must be Paula.

Oh, Glen has told me so much about you, but, oh, my gosh, you're even more beautiful than he described.

Oh!

Glen, he was one of the good ones.

One of the unusual ones, for sure, but...

But, you know, that guy could always brighten my day.

You know, I remember when we were recording our third album, Johnny had written this great progression and he had a little bit of a melody, and it was up to me to come up with the lyric, and I couldn't do it.

I tried and tried, and I was stuck.

I just couldn't come up with anything, and I remember Glen came over and we went out for chili dogs, of course.

A-A-And I just broke down about this song.

And I-I-I told him, you know, "I don't know what to do.

This is super important.

If we don't have a hit with this album, the label's gonna drop us," and Glen put his hand on my arm and looked me dead in the eye, and he said, "Hey, if this is it, this is it." And, boom, there it was.

I mean, that lyric and that song.

I mean, this is what Glen did.

He, you know...

He...

He w...

He was like a muse to me, and I loved him.

But he wouldn't want us bawling all over the place.

He'd want us to have a good time.

Like Glen used to say, "We're not here for a long time.

We're here for a good time," so...

Raise a glass...

or a chicken wing...

or whatever you got, 'cause tonight we celebrate my muse.

Tonight, we celebrate Jelly Bean and his big, old heart.

♪ There's a party down on the corner ♪

♪ Do you wanna go?♪

♪ They got rhythm, a little blues ♪

♪ And a whole lot of soul ♪

♪ I don't care what you've got to say ♪

♪ You're comin' with me anyway ♪

♪ We're not here for a long time ♪

- What are you doing?

- Oh, my goodness.

I can't believe you came.

Thank you, thank you, Mr.

Lewis.

- Didn't hurt a bit.

- What happened?

What changed your mind?

You did.

Mr. Reddington.

- You spoke to Jerry.

- Yeah.

And I got to know 'cause I can't get my head around it.

Why in the world is Raymond Reddington running errands for a DMV desk clerk?

Regional manager.

Yeah, but why is this guy so special that the world's most wanted fugitive is arranging his memorial service?

People often hide from me.

Glen was good at finding them.

I-I didn't ask you what he did.

I asked what made him special.

That's a bit more complicated.

Ah, I'm sure it is.

I'm sure it's incredibly complicated.

And weird and strange.

- But I like weird and strange.

- Ah.

You said I could ask for any favor... that's the favor.

You want me to tell you about how weird and strange Glen was.

I want to hear your eulogy.

I want Raymond Reddington to tell me what was weird and strange and beautiful about the regional manager of the Rockville DMV.

You know who I am.

You know I can do some very big favors.

Oh, trust me, I thought about asking you to scare the bejesus out of my pal Bruce Hornsby.

That'd be good.

Uh, but the truth is, you can't do a bigger favor than revealing somebody's heart and soul.

No, I don't suppose you can.

Yeah, I did my part.

I gave my eulogy, and in exchange, I'd like to hear your version.

Mr. Lewis, big fan.

Thanks.

What...

What is that?

The remains of a Great Dane.

We're friends with a vet.

He works at a shelter where they cremate pets who have to be put down.

But I told you I wasn't gonna steal his ashes.

And I know you well enough to know that, in the end, you probably would.

I-I-I'm sorry, but, uh, what's going on with all the beans and the baggies and the ashes?

I'll explain everything on the way.

♪ Have yourself a good time ♪ Okay.

Here we are.

- Glen.

- Right.

Glen.

Glen was...

...so many different things.

A son.

Civil servant.

A proud member of the Spare Me bowling team.

Two-time runner-up at the Southern Regional Tournament.

And a great...

A truly great tracker.

But he was...

Ah, brother.

He was a lot more than that.

Glen was...

infuriating.

Insulting.

Just so maddening.

He was a hedonist, a chauvinist, a liar, and a cheat, but there was one thing Glen was not.

And that's afraid.

Glen was not afraid.

He wasn't afraid of judgment.

Of being wrong.

He wasn't afraid of friendship.

Or romance.

A bad joke.

A good laugh.

He was never afraid of a good time.

Or bad timing.

Or consequences.

Or of an impossible task.

Or any kind of danger.

And he certainly wasn't afraid of me.

Ever.

No matter how hard or unfair life was to Glen...

Glen loved life back.

He embraced it without reservation, regret, or remorse.

And that is...

...rare.

I wish...

I wish more people were unafraid like Glen.

It's the thing about him I'll miss the most.

And I hope it'll be some time before...

...all my memories of him...

...start to fade.