01x01 - I.N.A.S.I.A.L.

[bunniefuu]

[dramatic music playing]

[Owen] I knew you were trouble

When you walked in ♪

Now I'm lying on the cold, hard ground ♪

[vehicles approaching]

Who the f*ck are these guys?

Overwatch One. Come in, Overwatch One.

Overwatch, we got a problem.

Do you copy?

[woman] Stay off this channel.

No, we have a serious problem.

Did you not hear me?

That's why you ever bring a lawyer

on an op. Stay off this channel.

f*ck!

[suspenseful music playing]

[soldiers speaking Russian]

[shouts]

["Hot in Herre" playing]

Wanna a little bit a

And a little bit a ♪

I was like, good gracious

Ass is bodacious, uh ♪

Flirtatious, tryin' to show faces, ah ♪

Lookin' for the right time

To sh**t my steam, you know ♪

Lookin' for the right time

To flash them keys, then, um ♪

Mr. Nyland will see you now.

Great. Thank you.

- Sir.

- Are you Henderson?

Uh, Hendricks, sir. Owen Hendricks.

How long you been here, Mr. Hendricks?

Only ten minutes, but you're very busy.

You're running the whole operation

You mean how long I've been working here.

About two days. Just finished CIA 101.

I'm sending you to the Senate.

Score.

Word is, head of the Senate

Intelligence Committee is planning

to read a classified document

at a public hearing.

Okay, and you want me

to tell him he can't.

Tell him that he's an engorged ball sack

who should walk

into an airplane propeller.

Yes, sir.

You mean tell him that figuratively.

No, I don't.

Listen to me carefully, Mr. Hendricks.

If you fail to stop Senator Smoot

from reading that document

you won't be working here tomorrow.

Am I clear?

You're a dead man walking.

Nyland thinks he can keep me in the dark

on the agency's covert clusterfucks,

but he's wrong!

If I wanna read a document,

I'll read a document!

I have a constitutional mandate

to oversee the CIA,

and I am gonna exercise the hell

out of it, starting by subpoenaing you.

Now, I'm going back into my hearing

and I'm quoting this document.

Sir, that is completely your prerogative

as you are head of the committee,

but may I just remind you

that revealing classified information

is in violation

of 18 U.S. code section 798

and will result

in not only criminal sanctions,

but potential reprimand

and censure in the Senate.

Also, that type of sh*t looks really bad

in a campaign video against you.

If there's nothing else I can help with,

I gotta get back to Langley.

It was a pleasure meeting you.

- How did it go?

- Pretty good.

- [Smoot yelling] Dave!

- Thanks for your help.

[Smoot] In my office! Now!

Hey. Did you check out that new CIA swag?

Yeah. I'm gonna get me

one of those ski masks.

Yeah. Those are nice, right?

- I don't even ski.

- Well

- I just wanna look like a bank robber.

- Oh, oh, oh.

Here we go.

Oh, sh*t I'm sorry.

[Lester] Okay. What?

- Yeah. Hi. This is my office.

- We heard Nyland sent you to Capitol Hill.

Yeah, I didn't get to the Senate

for six months. You get there on day two?

- Trust me, it wasn't a reward.

- What was the assignment?

Just advising on a classification.

Don't lie to us, Hendricks.

I was a professional sneak.

We know you met

with the head of Senate Intelligence.

Yeah. And I got my ass handed to me.

I was straight-up cannon fodder

in the Nyland-Smoot feud.

Only reason

the general counsel sent me was

[Lester] Because new guys

get the sh*t work.

What the hell is this?

[Lester] This is the crazies.

- [Violet] The nutjobs.

- People trying to graymail the CIA.

[Violet] Every letter is from someone

threatening to expose classified

information if we don't help them.

- That's extortion.

- [Lester] Yet we get hundreds a year.

Your job? Vet each one of those.

See if the author can back up the thr*at.

- How often does that happen?

- [Lester] Hmm.

It happens.

Yeah. Oh, and if the secrets

they're threatening to reveal are bad,

it's a nightmare to navigate.

- That is a lot of coffee.

- f*ck.

I can't afford to fall asleep.

- Why? You got a brief?

- A brief? No. I work directly with SOG.

Sorry, who are they? I'm struggling

to keep all the acronyms straight.

Special Operations Group.

Imagine if meth became sentient

and was given weaponry.

I've been in this building

for three straight days,

but if I leave, those crazy fucks

are gonna green-light a covert op

that I am single-handedly

keeping them from executing.

They don't listen to their lawyer?

No, this place

is an organization of con men,

which makes us lawyers

for cheats and liars

who are actively trying to sabotage us.

If you have any brains, get out before

the ink dries on your paperwork, kid.

Thanks.

[woman] I've been unjustly imprisoned

in Connecticut.

I don't know how that ham

ended up in my purse.

[man 1] I know about the aliens. I worked

for the agency in Cuba in 1963.

[man 2] It was a false flag operation.

[man 3] If you don't help me, I'll expose

all I know about the JFK assassination.

[man 4] My boyfriend is cheating on me.

If you don't get him to stop, I'll expose

all the secret CIA prisons in Jersey.

[woman] My name is Max Meladze.

I'm in prison in Phoenix.

Get me out or I will spill agency secrets

on Selby Shaw, PW Butcher, and more.

You owe me.

Um

[scatting]

- Yo. Whoa, whoa, whoa!

- Jesus Christ! Okay.

It's just Owen. You good?

It's me, from the coffee room.

What do you want?

Working on the crazies,

hoping you could help me.

No. Absolutely not.

It'll take a second.

Rule number one:

Never help anyone around here.

And definitely do not trust anyone.

This place is designed

to pit us against each other.

Okay.

Got it. Except I really do need your help.

So, what can I do to get you

to answer a few questions?

Do you have any speed?

No.

- Well, this has been fun. Toodle-oo.

- My roommate takes Adderall.

Good enough.

Five pills for every question. Go.

Okay, so I got this letter and I came

across a very weird name, PW Butcher.

Any idea what that means?

Yeah, that's a cryptonym.

An agency code name

for a clandestine operation.

The first two letters, PW, are a digraph,

literally the country code

where the operation is taking place,

and the two-syllable word that follows,

Butcher, is the actual code name.

Where did you find that?

In the graymail letter.

Some woman in prison for m*rder.

Yeah, there's no way an asset

should know an agency cryptonym

or even know they exist.

Does that mean this is the real deal?

- Pfft. Not my department. Mm-mm.

- Come on.

I'll give you ten extra pills.

Do I follow up on this or not?

I wouldn't.

Why does it feel like that's a yes?

Okay, if you were not gonna follow up

on this, where would you not go?

I gotta talk to someone about an old op.

Excuse me, ladies, could you?

What's up, dude? Could you, uh?

My name's Owen Hendricks

from the general counsel's office.

Not interested.

I can respect that,

but I got questions that need answering.

Make it fast.

Sure.

What can you tell me

about the cryptonym PW Butcher?

PW is the country code for Belarus,

and then Butcher

is a code name

for an operation in Belarus in 2009.

Okay. Great.

And what about the name Selby Shaw?

- What about it?

- Is it connected to PW Butcher?

I don't have access to the specifics,

but Selby Shaw

is a pseudonym for a DO officer

who operated in Belarus at that time.

Hmm. Okay. They're both tracking as

Would you mind putting in the name

Max Meladze? Maxine Meladze.

M-E-L-A-D-Z-E. See what comes up.

Please.

Nothing.

- You sure?

- Yeah.

What's this about, anyways?

Agency got a graymail letter from Meladze.

Jesus Christ.

- What?

- There's no way anyone outside the agency

should know a classified agency cryptonym

and an officer pseudonym.

- Could Meladze could be one of ours?

- Not without her showing up in the system.

But?

But it's possible

she was a hip-pocket asset,

so there wouldn't be a file on her

and no way to ID her case officer.

Why would her handler soft file her

in the first place?

She could've been a new source

he hadn't fully vetted.

With that level

of institutional knowledge?

No.

That's troubling.

Okay.

Listen to me. I need you

to give me Selby Shaw's real name.

- And you think this is real?

- [Owen] Yes.

Sir, she knows classified information.

- And you ran all this down in a few hours.

- Yes, sir.

And I have a lead on where to go next.

Our operative's real name.

Selby Shaw

is a pseudonym for Dawn Gilbane.

What the hell is wrong with you?

Never write an officer's true name

and their pseudonym on the same paper.

- Uh, sorry, sir, I didn't know.

- Get Kitchens and Ebner in here.

[intercom beeps]

[elevator bell dings]

This can't be good.

- Where is she now?

- [Owen] Meladze? At a prison in Phoenix.

- No, the operative.

- [Owen] Gilbane.

She's at an agency black site in Yemen.

[knocking on door]

Yes, sir?

[Nyland] Who had the crazies

before Hendricks?

- I did.

- [Nyland] Did you even open the folder?

Of course, sir. I did my due diligence

with everything in there

Keep going with the investigation.

These two will pick up the slack

on your workload.

Yes, sir.

- [Nyland clears throat]

- Yes, sir?

Oh, sh

- Thanks for screwing me over.

- I'm sorry, man. I had no idea.

[Lester] Yeah, bullshit. You set me up.

You set yourself up by doing jack sh*t

with those folders when you had them.

That's not true.

Violet had the folders before me.

- How many cases of graymail did you find?

- A few. So, what's the story?

A possible hip-pocket asset

that knows too much.

How do I get to Yemen?

Nyland didn't say, "Go to Yemen."

He said:

"Keep going with the investigation."

Yes, but the answers I need are in Yemen.

So how do I get there?

[elevator bell dings]

Travel coach. Rent an economy car.

Seriously?

Yeah.

And keep the receipts for everything.

They don't call this place

"the Company" for nothing.

[pop music playing over speakers]

[laughing] I don't think

I've ever seen you dance like that before.

This is amazing. [laughing]

- All right. What's up?

- [Hannah] Okay.

If I get this in,

you have to buy groceries for the week.

- Oh, wow, that was so close.

- [Terrence] Ooh.

Okay, you have gotta clean the bathroom.

No. You gotta clean Owen and I's shower.

[Hannah] That sounds disgusting.

Whoo! Thank you.

- Hey.

- [Owen] Hi.

Did you bring beer? I texted you.

Uh, no. You didn't.

- Huh.

- Hey.

- What's up, Bubba?

- [Hannah] I texted my mom.

No, you slow down, Mother.

- Ooh. Sucks. Is there any food?

- Uh, there might be some pizza left.

[Owen] What are you wearing?

It's Tad's. We're role playing later.

I am making a special delivery.

I'm so sorry that I asked.

- I'll take that.

- [Terrence] Where you going?

- Ah. You got next.

- I gotta pack.

To go where?

It's classified.

Look how smug he is about that.

So smug. Why so smug?

Are you ready, Chicago?

So, seriously, where are you going?

Seriously, I can't tell you.

Okay. Well, how's your new job?

Have you made any new friends

or overthrown any foreign governments?

No to the friends.

Maybe to the governments.

Fingers crossed.

- [clears throat] Your mom called me.

- Oh?

Apparently, you forgot to tell her

that we aren't dating anymore.

Well, I haven't talked to her

in six months,

so she also doesn't know

I work at the CIA.

You can't avoid dealing with her forever.

[Owen] Sure I can.

- Hey, how's the firm?

- Ugh.

All I do

is freeze my ass off in a conference room,

reading technical specs

on homicidal dialysis machines.

The joy of being a first year

at a law firm.

You should've joined the agency with me.

Oh, my God. Could you imagine?

My parents would k*ll me.

[Owen chuckles]

There's this cool thing.

It's called "not giving a f*ck what

your parents think." Super liberating.

- Did you find out where he's going?

- My powers of seduction were ineffective.

Do you mind if I take this?

- No.

- [Owen] Thank you.

Well, he's definitely flying

because he's packing a carry-on,

but he is not flying for long

because he's only packing a carry-on.

Your powers of deduction

are wasted at the Department of Treasury.

Okay, just for that, Tad and I,

we're gonna role play in your room tonight

once you're off circumnavigating the globe

in your government jet.

- I don't get a jet.

- Since when do spies fly commercial?

I'm not a spy.

I am a lawyer.

[Arabic hip-hop playing]

[camels grunting]

- [a*t*matic g*nf*re in distance]

- [helicopter whirring]

Hey! [laughs]

What's going on, man? How's it going?

I'm Owen Hendricks

over at the general counsel's office.

Oh, sh*t. Oh, f*ck.

Okay, listen, man. No, no, no. Wait. Whoa!

God.

Hey, hi.

I think there's been a mistake. f*ck.

Wow. You guys really loosened these teeth.

I'm an American, dumbass.

So, there's been

Thank God. Hi. I'm Owen Hendricks

from the general counsel's office.

And you just thought

you'd pop by a black site unannounced.

Sorry. Was I supposed to call?

There was no cable traffic

about your trip.

No clearance

from the ambassador or diplomatic cover.

- Well, I'm new.

- You're an idiot.

- Or just pretending to be one.

- It's actually neither of those.

- Hmm.

- I flew all the way here

to talk to you about an old op

- from many years ago. What?

- Bullshit. Bullshit.

- What color is this?

- [chuckles]

Blue?

You really are new. Otherwise, the agency

would have issued you a black passport

which grants you diplomatic immunity.

No one told me that.

- Strip him.

- [Owen] What?

What? Wait a second.

What are you doing? No, no. Whoa, guys.

f*ck. No.

Hey, this is a new suit. What is going on?

[Dawn] That's what I wanna know. No way

you came out here to talk about an old op.

I think you're here to investigate us,

which makes you a hostile.

But you f*cked up.

Without a cover identity

and a diplomatic passport,

the Yemeni secret police will arrest you

for spying and sh**t you in the head.

With a black passport,

you just get deported.

But someone should have told you that

before you got on the plane.

- Made some enemies at work already?

- Looks like it.

- You sure don't have any friends here.

- All right. Let's Wait.

So here's what's gonna happen.

You're gonna tell me

what you're really doing in my black site

or the PSO is gonna get

an anonymous tip you're up to no good.

You're gonna end up with a cattle prod

in one end, a hollow point in the other.

No, no, no.

[screams] f*ck!

God! I'm telling you the truth!

I came across a graymail

that was connected to a f*cking operation

that you ran. Wait, wait, listen to me.

It's my first week on the job.

I got recruited in law school.

I said no to a bunch of high-paying jobs

because I got this pathological need

for stimulation.

Probably 'cause my dad

got blown up in Afghanistan.

My mom never got over it.

I have just been running away

from having to spend any longer than five

minutes with my thoughts alone ever since.

So, yeah, when that recruit came

and he promised me I could do cool stuff,

I thought, "f*ck it."

And, you know, f*ck it.

Maybe I'll even make my dad proud.

You know, I have been faking it

until I made it for my entire life,

but I'm sorry

because I can f*cking understand

how I have clearly miscalculated

applying that approach to the agency.

What's the op?

PW Butcher.

The asset's name is Maxine Meladze.

She wrote us a graymail letter.

Cut him loose.

Yeah, I f*cking pissed myself.

Congratulations.

You are good at your jobs.

[Dawn] I never met Meladze.

But you remember her.

Vaguely.

I used HUMINT from her to carry out an op.

If I remember right,

she was a pretty valuable asset.

Upper-level player of the Belarus chapter

of the Russian mafia.

She had serious connections

inside Russian intelligence.

- Who was her handler?

- Sorry, I don't remember.

It was a long time ago,

and I've run a hundred ops since then.

But she was a big deal.

And the fact that somebody

would hip-pocket a girl like that

should scare the crap out of you.

Listen,

sorry about the enhanced interrogation.

- Yeah.

- Some guys might hold a grudge.

I chalk it up to a communication breakdown

and a lesson on the importance

of following protocol when interacting

with clandestine services.

So I don't have to tell anyone

at Langley about the whole t*rture thing?

Exactly. Although some people

might enjoy hearing about it.

Yeah. Pretty sure

I can smooth things out with them, though.

Working at the CIA is like

a never ending game of musical chairs.

Everyone is maneuvering to figure out

who will have a seat when the music stops.

Easiest way to make sure you have a seat

is to hamstring the guy next to you.

If you don't start playing,

figuring out how sh*t works,

you're gonna be in trouble.

More trouble than getting

my fingernail pulled out?

Nails grow back. Drive safe.

Keep an eye peeled for the PSO.

- [baby crying]

- [passenger sneezes]

How did it go?

[Owen] Oh, I can't talk about it.

- What?

- [Owen] I can't talk about it.

- Come on, man. Just let me sleep.

- What are you wearing?

My suit got ruined.

Mm-hm.

I'm surprised they let you

on the plane wearing that.

Suggests a country

with lesser security standards.

- Third world, perhaps?

- I said I can't talk about it.

- What's going on?

- [Owen] Oh, my God.

- Owen was in the sh*t somewhere.

- Owen loves being in the sh*t.

- He didn't love this.

- Can you guys please just let me sleep?

What happened?

I can't talk about it.

But I'm fine.

You don't seem fine.

Come on.

What? What are you doing?

Mm. Being human.

Come on. Get in here.

- I don't wanna wrinkle my outfit.

- [Terrence] Said by no one young ever.

I'm running late.

Call me if you wanna talk. Okay?

[Owen] Thank you.

Are you okay?

I am now.

Now, get out of my room.

Okay. Get some sleep.

- [cell phone ringing]

- No.

- Hello.

- [woman] Hold for the general counsel.

[Nyland] Where the f*ck are you?

["Eyes to the Sky" playing]

Full of knowledge

But beyond the rights of college ♪

Badge of honor

Then you have to hand it over, over ♪

- [Owen] Hi.

- How was Yemen?

It was great. No thanks to you two.

Look, I don't mind getting hazed

'cause I'm the new guy,

but if either one of you try to

torpedo me like that again,

we're gonna have a problem.

[Violet] Hmm.

Now, I gotta get upstairs.

General counsel needs me. Again.

Cheers.

[Owen] Without a 201 file, no way to know

who Meladze's handler was.

But given that Agent Gilbane

confirmed that Max was an asset,

we have to take

the graymail thr*at seriously.

- I didn't tell you to go to Yemen.

- [Owen] Yes, sir.

I decided to make the judgment call

that it was the necessary next step.

Plus, I figured you're the type of leader

who appreciates initiative,

but if you want me to get approval

No. Initiative is good.

Nice job.

Thank you.

What happened to your hand?

Closed it in a car door.

Ah.

Go to Phoenix. Talk to Meladze.

Yes, sir.

Now?

Sir, it's just,

my day started three days ago.

Great. Yeah. Phoenix it is.

What can you tell me about Max Meladze?

She's been held without bail

due to the brutal nature of her crime.

- Who'd she k*ll?

- A trucking guy named Salvatore Kwitny.

Phoenix PD thinks Miss Meladze

was using his trucks to run product.

So, what is the CIA's interest in her?

Not at liberty to say,

but I'll need a digital copy of her file

and a private room to meet with her.

No listeners, no cameras.

Shall we?

Who are you?

I'm Owen Hendricks from the

general counsel's office at the CIA.

We got your letter.

- Took you long enough.

- Yeah, it's a busy place.

You know that making threats

against the agency's a crime, right?

I know many things.

More than you, that's for sure.

So how long has it been, huh? A few weeks?

- You know how to use the copy machine?

- We're not here to talk about me.

- What happened to your hand?

- I closed it in a car door.

Liar. I've pulled out enough fingernails

to know what it looks like afterwards.

You seem really proud of that.

Shouldn't I be?

Some of those nails were for the CIA.

Oh, is that one of the things

that you're threatening to expose?

No.

- So how do you like the agency so far?

- It's great. Who was your handler?

Dumb question, because now I know

you have no hard file on me.

Which means you have no idea

what I know or who I can burn.

Maybe. But I'm gonna find out soon enough.

Only if I tell you, which I won't

unless you do some things for me.

- Who pulled out your fingernail?

- No one.

I have classified CIA documents.

You have documents?

So many documents.

Who pulled out your nail?

An operative in Yemen.

I went to ask her about you.

"Her." You know, you give away information

without realizing it.

I'm surprised you survived your trip.

It certainly doesn't inspire confidence

that you're the right lawyer

to help me get out of here.

- I am not here to get you out.

- Games.

I am bored.

- Tell your boss to call someone else.

- Wait, hold on. Just

Hi, excuse me, one second, excuse me.

Excuse me. Miss, please.

Give me those documents.

If you're telling me the truth,

then I'll help you.

There. See?

Was that so hard?

- They're in a storage locker.

- You have top-secret CIA documents

in a storage locker

where anyone can find them?

I like to live dangerously.

[Nyland] you need to secure

those files ASAP.

Call the local FBI office

and get an escort.

Yes, sir.

- You need me to send Kitchens to help?

- No, sir. Definitely not.

- I've got this.

- All right. Don't f*ck this up.

[line ringing]

[operator] You have reached

the Phoenix Division

of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.

If you know your party's extension,

you can dial it at any time.

For Cyber Division, press one.

For International Operations Division,

press two.

For Critical Incident Response Group,

press three.

For Criminal Investigative Division,

press four.

You have pressed four,

Criminal Investigative Division.

All investigators are

f*ck it, man.

[hip-hop music playing over stereo]

[woman over speaker]

Empathy can be thought of in several ways.

The first is to contrast empathy

with sympathy

In true psychopaths

[in Spanish] Who the f*ck is this guy?

the parts of the brain

that control empathy are dark.

Psychopaths have reduced connections

between the ventral medial

prefrontal cortex,

the part of the brain responsible for

We'll take the bag.

Bro, what's your plan here?

It's not like you'll get out of there.

[speaking Spanish]

I'm sorry. Who are you?

We're the guys who are gonna take the bag.

Did you not see his g*n?

No, I saw it, man.

Just not the first one I've seen today

Yesterday.

It was two days ago.

I can't do the math, man.

- It's been an epically strange day.

- No problem. We can end it for you.

No, I'm good. Wasn't really complaining.

[Talco] Open the gate. Give us the bag,

maybe we'll let you go home.

Not gonna happen, man. My bad.

You do know

b*ll*ts go through metal, right?

Yeah. Yeah, I know.

[speaking Spanish]

[Owen] Hey, relax! Relax! Calmate!

I got it! It's fine! Come in. I got it.

- [Talco speaking Spanish]

- [man] All right.

sh*t.

- [g*nsh*t]

- [crash]

[grunting]

["The Ground Below" playing]

You say that you don't love me

I'm guessing I'ma be okay ♪

You say that you don't feel me now ♪

I feel like I'ma live somehow ♪

The God k*ller

This Tokyo, and I'm Godzilla ♪

Playing blackjack versus death

g*n on the card dealer ♪

Just bought a demon

I'm screamin' up out the car dealer ♪

The last temptation of Mike

But I'm a God figure ♪

Tell Beelzebub

That the God don't need a job ♪

And if I did, the oligarchs

Would be missing, m*rder*d, and robbed ♪

This is Bonaparte

And he playing with Toussaint ♪

And they went on a world conquest

Tear your bone apart ♪

Your love never meant much to me ♪

Love never meant much to me ♪

Your love never meant much to me ♪

Your love never meant much ♪

[Talco] That was not cool, bro.

You made me run. I hate running.

The bag.

f*ck you.

[speaking Spanish]

[both screaming]

Life a bitch

Leave you battered and bent ♪

Lose or win, gotta hold up your chin ♪

And I put it on Jaime and me ♪

We just gave you inspiration for free

The money never meant much ♪

[retching]

[spits]

[retching, coughing]

[grunting]

[door buzzes]

[Max] You look rough.

You got a little bit of vomit

Using me as an errand boy

almost got me k*lled.

Who the f*ck booby-traps a bag with acid?

A survivor.

Where's my money?

In my trunk. Who were the guys

trying to get it from me?

Disgruntled competitors.

They think it belongs to them.

As soon as we're done,

I'm giving it to the police.

Are you really this stupid?

No, you're not handing it over.

When you leave here, take the bag,

put it in a garbage can

at the back of the parking lot,

and I will have someone

pick it up and secure it for me.

Why would I do that?

Because I have all the leverage.

You have no idea who I am,

or what I know, Owen,

and that should scare the sh*t out of you.

So I spent the afternoon

going through your social media.

Thank you for giving me

your real name by the way.

Who I am is hardly relevant.

I disagree because now I know

everything you've done since college.

Every place you've lived.

Every woman you've dated.

I know that your father

is buried in a m*llitary cemetery and

you spend a lot of time there.

I don't need social media

to know who you are, Max.

I read your arrest report.

I saw the photos of your house.

You're a woman that lives without life.

Not even one photo on any of your walls.

What, no family? No friends?

No joy?

Seems like the only thing that you have

is being a criminal.

How I live my life isn't important.

I know about dozens of top secret

CIA operations in Belarus and Russia

involving incredibly

well-connected people.

Stuff the agency

would do anything to keep secret.

So here's what you're going to do.

You're gonna go back to Langley and make

sure the Company's number one priority

is having the m*rder charges

against me dropped.

And if anyone there thinks

it would be easier to have me k*lled,

if anything happens to me,

a press release will go out

detailing the minutiae of a decade's worth

of clandestine operations.

- And guess who will be blamed?

- I get it.

Let me call my boss.

Oh, my God.

No. Owen.

You're not calling your boss.

He isn't going to want

anything to do with this.

When he finds out how bad this is,

he will do anything

to wrap this around your neck.

There's no reason why you need

to be collateral damage in all of this.

Do not try to manipulate me. Don't.

I'm just a lawyer doing my job.

No. You're just a lawyer

standing in the middle of a minefield,

and you don't even know it.

So, yeah. Do what you need to do.

Stumble around, blow yourself up,

or you can let me guide you through this

so you don't destroy yourself.

[chuckles] Your compassion is touching,

but there's no way you're offering to

help me out of the goodness of your heart.

So, you don't have

the leverage that you claim.

- Oh, no?

- No.

If I'm in a minefield,

and I'm not buying your premise

you need me to get out safe

or else you might not survive.

You really thought it was

Christmas morning when I walked in here.

A kid fresh out of law school who

doesn't even know how to run the copier.

I think that's what you said.

You thought you could manipulate

and bully me into doing things your way,

but you made a mistake, I'm a guy

that doesn't mind falling on his face

or getting in over my head.

I actually kinda like that.

It's why I get up in the morning.

So stop playing games.

I need you and you need me.

So let's make a deal.

Forget it. You're a m*rder*r.

The last thing I need is your help.

I'm going back to Langley,

giving a full report on what happened.

I'll be in touch.

- Okay.

- [Owen] Guard.

You do that, but before you leave,

I have a parting gift for you.

My handler was Not Bob.

- What is that, a f*cking riddle?

- No, your agency will know who it is.

- [door unlocks, then opens]

- Good luck.

You're gonna need it.

[vehicles passing by]

[Max] So I spent the afternoon

going through your social media.

Now I know

everything you've done since college.

Every place you've lived.

Every woman you've dated.

[Owen] Sor Just one second.

[knocking on door]

[shouts]

Oh, no. No.

No, no, no. What What time is it?

- What day is it?

- It's 9 a.m. on Thursday.

Oh, f*ck.

f*ck. Uh

Last thing I remember, I I was eating

Yep.

Those barbarians. They drugged me

so they could go run their op.

Uh, can't you stop them?

No, once they're wheels up,

all I can do is damage control.

Well, so long as you're not busy, um,

if I said the name "Not Bob,"

what would you say?

What?

Hey, I ate an Ambien sandwich.

I need short simple questions.

Who is Not Bob?

- Everybody's heard of Not Bob.

- I haven't.

He's a legend inside the agency,

ran the most dangerous ops in history,

he retired as a division chief.

Why do we call him Not Bob?

Because he refused to use the pseudonym

of Bob or Robert as a first name.

Well, I just got Not Bob's name

from my graymailer.

- You're lying.

- I'm not.

Assets don't know

their case officers' real names,

and sure as sh*t wouldn't know

an internal nickname.

People keep saying that she shouldn't know

these things, and then she does.

- So, what am I supposed to do?

- Get out of my office.

Janus.

I have enough trouble

trying to control my rogue spec ops team.

The last thing I need is any of your

radioactive graymail case getting on me.

Come on. It can't be that bad.

It's always that bad, you moron.

Not Bob isn't just some

former king sh*t CIA officer.

He is currently the chief of staff

The The president?

For the f*cking

President of the United States.

So, what happened in Phoenix?

Uh

Um

Well?

Upon interviewing Max Meladze,

I feel that

her thr*at of graymail is credible

and requires further investigation.

Okay.

Keep me posted.

[tense music playing]

- Hello?

- [Owen] I'm gonna ask you one question.

And if you answer honestly,

I'll accept your offer.

What's the question?

Can I trust you?

When our interests align.

Otherwise, no.

I'm in.

[dramatic music playing]

You already pissed off

the Senate Intelligence Committee.

It's the least of my issues.

Since I met you, I've been chased,

tortured, and subpoenaed.

You're being followed

by the entire United Nations.

- [Nyland] Get this under control.

- Yes, sir.

Ever had a panic att*ck?

I've had one since 2019.

You get used to it.

You have a plan of action

for this woman or not?

No, not yet.

Higher stakes make it challenging.

But as soon as I figure out the system,

I'll be able to navigate the obstacles.

I'm 24, I'm supposed to make mistakes,

take big swings.

- Martini?

- How about a White Claw?

Inserting yourself in my operation

without notifying me?

Wanna climb in so the whole world

doesn't see through our covert clown car?

I always advance

Say I fail, you know I stand ♪

I'm just a lawyer.

I ain't got a limit

Cannot be stopped ♪

You paying attention?

I ain't gotta say it ♪

They know where my head is ♪

Is that a piña colada?

Yeah.

[dramatic music playing]