- Ethan! - Previously on Rogue...
Ethan!
She had this flash drive, had an algorithm on it.
So, she had the keys to the whole fucking world.
She could read emails, text messages, phone calls, anything.
Now, why aren't we out looking for Mia
instead of sitting around and fucking talking about it?
If that girl is still alive, you have options.
I think I know where they are holding her.
Federal agents! Open up!
So, what's the tally?
It's eight so far.
They think one of the graves might be a double.
Federal Agent! Drop your weapon!
Exit the office with your hands up!
Teetonka Chicago Inc.
Looks like their chief operating officer is a Tilda Switzer.
I have Ethan Kelly here with me.
I can keep him occupied, if you'd like to take care of this tonight.
Bring him back to your place.
- We'll be waiting. - Oh, fuck!
So, where were we?
- Synced and corrected by peritta & rickSG - - www.addic7ed.com -
- So, what is it? - Hmm?
What is it that you want? Hmm?
What?
- No, you'll laugh. - Why, what do you mean?
I wanted to drive at Daytona.
Philip Roth and NASCAR. Mmm.
I used to go with my dad.
I liked the noise.
I loved the way the Earth rumbled when the cars were passing by.
- Hmm. - The smell of the burning oil.
Okay, you know what? You're from heaven, aren't you?
Hmm?
Not quite.
But if you'd like to see where I live now...
Mmm.
I'm sorry, will you hold that thought?
Mmm-hmm.
Yeah?
Mia's dead.
What?
The Russians killed her and apparently you're next.
Tilda's knee-deep in this along with Marty Stein.
Are you sure, Jen?
Yeah, I just heard her phone call.
Listen to me, Ethan, don't go anywhere near her apartment.
They're gonna kill you.
Yeah, we'll see about that.
She's setting you up!
Not when she doesn't know that I know her play.
Ethan, don't... Ethan!
Okay.
- Jesus, could you be any slower? - I'm okay.
I'm okay. I'm all right.
- Can you not just... - Shut up for a second.
The flash drive...
From Mia's bag?
The Russians...
- Excuse me, ma'am... - The Russians.
Put the mask back on.
The Russians, I got it.
Shh, just relax.
- Come in, come in, please. - Wow.
- Quite some place. - Yeah, I like it.
Shall I fix us a drink?
That would be lovely.
Do you, uh, have a restroom I can use?
There's one upstairs on your left.
- Maker's, right? - Yeah, neat, please.
I'm jealous. This place is beautiful.
House down the street's for sale, I could put a word in for you.
Be the envy of all my friends.
See anything you like?
Should I give you a tour?
Hey!
Start walking.
Yeah.
You're not going to scream now.
Now, one of you guys
is gonna tell me what the fuck is going on.
No, no.
It's only the cost of a bullet, darling.
I didn't...
I didn't want to. Please.
Come on, talk to me.
It's the fucking mine.
What mine?
It's supposed to be filled with uranium in Utah...
Shut the fuck up!
Listen to me, asshole.
Don't fucking say another word. You got me?
- Why did you kill Mia? - I didn't kill anyone.
- What? - I didn't kill anyone.
Tilda.
I'm just a pawn.
I... I sit at a desk, I take orders.
You're dead.
Shut the fuck up.
- Who do you take orders from? - Max Bershov.
- Max Bershov? - He's a Russian businessman.
- He owns the company, we all work for him. - All right.
And what about Mia? Why did Bershov want her dead?
Why?
Because we were lying about the company assets.
Bershov made a deal that...
To sell 51% of his outstanding shares
and Mia found out that the whole thing was a scam.
There was a third less uranium in the mine than we said on the financials.
The stock price was rising and Mia sold the stock short.
It didn't make any sense.
Bershov was worried the SEC would
contact her and void the deal.
And throw your little ass in jail, is that it?
- Ethan. - What?
I didn't have anything to do with killing her, I swear.
You set me up.
I didn't have a choice.
I'm going to give you one chance. You ready?
Marty Stein, what's his involvement?
He's Bershov's lawyer. He did the deal.
Did Marty know that Bershov wanted me dead?
- Did he? - No.
- No? - No, I don't know.
Oh, now you don't know?
Bershov said he wanted him to pay up the loose ends.
I'm busy. What?
Mia was here.
What do you mean, Mia was here? Where?
Here in the task force.
What are you talking about?
Whoa, just start from the top.
- When did this happen? - I don't know, about two hours ago.
I've got the whole thing on tape.
Come on, get me out of here. Jesus, Sergei, come on.
Shh.
My hand. Here.
Come here and get this.
All right, I'll be there as soon as I can.
What the...
Special Agent in charge, Dan Renner.
I understand you were first on the scene.
- That's right. - What did you see?
Nothing.
They were down when I got here and Lowry told me they were Russians.
That's it?
That's right.
Excuse me.
- Who's that? - He might be able to help us.
Why do you think that?
He's, uh... He's my CI.
It's better if I talk to him alone.
Steve, he's with me.
If he gives you anything...
You'll be the first I tell.
What happened to you?
- Oh, it's nothing. - You know what, I don't even care.
Okay, look at this.
This is the footage I was telling you about.
Keep your eye on that one.
And they're gone.
- What was on that drive? - I don't know.
Fuck, Kelly, three of my guys are dead, my boss is in a hospital bed.
- Mmm-hmm. - You're lying.
I'm not lying to you.
Mia hired me to find the disk, and that's all I know.
It's just a little weird, her taking off the mask.
She had to know that we would recognize her.
Unless she's stupid.
- She's not stupid. - Then she knew that I would contact you.
She wanted me to show you this recording, so why is that?
Okay, tell you what, roll it back.
There. She must have gotten the password wrong.
She's sending us a message.
Run it back one more time.
And can you zoom in to the keyboard?
There we go.
Nigel Pulaski, so who the fuck is that?
I don't know, but you find him and you find Mia,
maybe even the flash drive and the shooters.
Jill.
Can you run a name check for me? Nigel Pulaski.
You got it, Deaks.
You can go.
What, are you fucking kidding me? I just helped you out.
Go home, take a shower, take care of that.
Get out of here unless you want to spend the night in a cage.
Right.
The CI earn his keep?
Could be the girl was sending us a signal on the security camera.
A name. Nigel Pulaski.
Never heard of him.
Yeah, me neither.
He's here.
He's waiting for you.
- How long? - Near an hour.
Sorry, only one glass.
What the fuck happened to you?
Little scuffle. But I'm okay.
So, this is what this is all about.
Like they say, small packages.
I, uh...
I have bad news.
Sergei, this is a good day. Do not piss on it.
You should know.
Fine, what?
Tilda is dead.
Okay.
Ethan Kelly was there.
Is he dead, too?
No.
Bershov ordered this?
Kelly, not Tilda.
Somehow, he was expecting me.
And that's why your face looks like a sausage after the grinder?
Da.
Okay. Another problem for another day.
In the meantime, I am going to find out
if this thing actually works.
Hey.
Do svidanya.
Hello.
I am Marty Stein.
I'm a lawyer.
And I...
I am here to help you.
Oh, shit, right. You don't know me.
I don't know you.
I've heard you're a very smart lady,
but you know what, I'll tell you something.
Being a very smart lady and being a very dead lady doesn't do anyone any good.
I know who you are.
Oh, good. Yay! Then we're halfway there.
Good. I hate introductions. I'll tell you what.
You know, half the meetings I go to,
most of the time is spent on who you know, where you've been,
what fucking prep school you went to,
when we could be getting right down to business.
Go fuck yourself.
Okay, that was nasty and really not very smart.
I'm a dead woman, we both know that. I see no need to be polite.
Ah, you see, this is where an introduction might have come in handy.
I'm Marty Stein.
I fix people's problems. That's what I do.
Poof, they're gone! Like magic.
I know you work for Bershov.
I advise Bershov, yes.
Yeah?
Well, sometimes he takes his own advice.
Ah.
Can I ask you something, Mia?
Why do you think you're still here?
Still breathing? I'll tell you why.
Because of me. Marty Stein to the rescue.
- Why would you do that? - That is a very good question.
You show me how this thing works
and I will get our Russian friends not to kill you.
I think that's a very fair exchange.
Yeah, the problem is I don't fucking trust you.
Based on what?
What Ethan Kelly told you?
Really?
Can I tell you something about Ethan Kelly?
Half of the crap that comes out of his mouth is just that.
A big pile of stinking, steaming bullshit!
He didn't try and kill me.
Not yet.
But we all know about Ethan Kelly, right?
He's an opportunist.
Think about it.
And while you're thinking about that,
think about how our Russian friends are going to react
when I tell them who you really are,
Mia... Or should I say Anna?
Anna.
Impressed, huh?
Tell you what, you never know what little tidbits of information
are gonna pop right out of my mouth at any given moment.
Fine.
Yay! I had a feeling that you'd see it my way.
Good. Okay, now, just to make sure
that you are not completely full of shit,
I would like you to start at the very top of this list. Mr. Furnell Washington.
I wanna know every skeleton, every bone of every skeleton, in that man's closet.
I want to know
every wart on that fucker's body.
There's only three in Chicago. One Nigel Pulaski is a business professor.
That doesn't sound like our guy.
He's been to Russia three times this past year.
Twice to Moscow, once to St. Petersburg.
Where's Renner?
Yeah, I'm fine, Jen.
I'll let you know if anything comes up.
Okay, bye.
Nigel Pulaski?
- That's right. - You're under arrest.
So tell me about your two trips to Russia last year, Professor Pulaski.
You mean every year.
I lecture on the Russian nihilists up to and including Turgenev.
Now, some people will argue that Turgenev is not a nihilist at all, but...
- Not you. - No, God, no.
What are you planning on doing with the flash drive?
Copy of my latest piece.
If Gogol and Tolstoy Had Tea.
I bring all my works-in-progress home with me every night.
It's a shame, but I don't really trust the members of my department.
Son of a bitch.
You gave me a real shitty bet, man, you know that?
- Do I know you? - I just lost another $500...
Oh, thank God!
You okay?
Yeah, my ego is a little bruised.
Your friend Marty Stein stopped by. Real charmer, that one.
Let's go, move, move, move, move.
Nigel Pulaski?
The guy's an egghead.
Eggheads sometimes have dirty hands.
The only thing this guy is guilty of is too much useless knowledge.
Well, that should be a Class A felony.
Look, if you got a second, I'd like to have a little chat.
- Do I have a choice? - Not really.
You're DEA, right?
That's right.
Did you ever work with Harlowe out there?
- Stan the Man. - Yeah.
Good people. Says you can handle yourself.
So you talked to him already?
Came up in conversation.
So you already knew that I worked with him?
It's called a conversation breaker, Agent Deakins.
I hear it happens quite a bit in the real world.
Guess I wouldn't know.
Well, this is fun.
Lowry called you last night.
It was the last call he made.
And?
What did he want?
I don't know, actually.
And yet you still decided to come down to the office.
He wanted to tell me something, yeah.
He couldn't tell you on the phone?
I guess not.
Did he seem afraid?
- No. - Panicked?
He sounded like a boss who wanted someone who worked for him
to come down to the office.
Was that normal?
You tell me what the fuck is normal in this business.
I'll tell you what's not normal.
Three dead agents and one half-dead on the floor of a task force.
You think I'm involved?
You think I'm fucking involved?
Like I would turn on my own fucking people.
Deaks, I've been looking all over for you.
Give me a minute.
Unless you two are fucking, you can talk in front of me.
Just got a call from Gladden at the farmhouse.
They pulled up a pretty fresh body.
- How fresh? - Two, three days.
- Is it Patrick? - It's too soon to tell.
The animals got to him, but the height, the weight...
We're done.
- That seat's taken. - Oh, this won't take long.
I will have a Scotch, your most expensive single malt, neat, please,
- and make that a double. - Yes, sir.
Thank you, sweetheart.
I'm surprised you came out in public,
what with your fall from grace and all.
You know, grace, that's a funny thing.
I once had a client, a Catholic priest, of all things, who said,
"Only Saint Paul really had any grace.
"The rest of us, we just chase after it like a bus we can never catch.
"As soon as we get close, the damn thing pulls away from the curb.
"You think we'd learn." - Oh, you're a clever man, Marty Stein.
Oh, no, no, no, that was Father Pat, not me.
My list, I've only got two people on the old grace list.
J.S. Bach. Whoever wrote the Goldberg Variations
has touched the hand of God and has held on for a very long time.
- Thank you, sweetheart. - Yeah, and the other?
Derek Jeter. Bat like Zeus and glove like Aphrodite.
Plus he boned both Mariah Carey and Jessica Alba.
Oh, shit, I'm sorry. Did I embarrass you?
Come on, Furnell, you appreciate a little boning every now and then, don't you?
A little bing-bang-boom?
Oh, shit!
Oh, fuck, I'm sorry, I totally forgot you're married.
God damn it, you're a married man!
How long have you been married?
- Ten years. - Ten years a married man.
Huh! Your wife's name is Susannah.
You got good memory.
I have a very good memory. That's true.
Do me a favor, say hi to Susannah for me.
I'm sure she'll be thrilled.
Thank you. And, oh, while you're at it, say hi to Linda Conners
and Brianne Murphy. How did you do that, Furnell?
Kept those names out of the papers all these years?
Two white girls?
Pubic hair past the age of consent?
Well, good on you, I guess.
Roofies really do loosen up the legs, huh?
What do you want?
I want the naive hordes who think your shit don't stink
to know that you're a rapist, Furnell, that's what I want.
I have every e-mail, every account, every phony name.
"Bigger Thomas?"
Really? That's the best you can do?
How much?
"He that filches from me my good name
"robs me of that which not enriches him and makes me poor indeed."
I don't want your money, Furnell, I want my fucking name back.
That's what I want.
Why do I feel like I've been here before?
Agent Deakins. Sorry to keep you.
I'm Dr. Melnick.
As you know, we had quite the rush today.
Luckily, this one's only been dead two, three days.
COD was strangulation. You can tell from the petechial hemorrhaging.
- That's those small red dots... - I know what they are.
Did you check for fingerprints?
You mean the ones that weren't gnawed off by one of our furry friends?
Nothing in the system.
But all that tells me is that this particular mook was never arrested.
Contusions on the neck, that means it was manual strangulation, right?
Mmm, very good, Agent Deakins. Been watching your CSI, I see.
Did you check for prints?
I just told you.
Around the neck.
I'll have someone check right away.
If your guy pulls anything, run them through the CPD database.
- Good idea. - For officers, not criminals.
Call me as soon as you have something.
Can I ask you a question?
I don't want you to feel any pressure to answer if you don't want to.
What is it, Mia?
Did you come back to save the flash drive or me?
It's okay.
I understand, I probably would have done the same thing.
What the fuck?
Hey, Nathan.
You should be in the hospital.
My grandfather limped around on one of these things for 20 years.
I swore to myself if it ever happened to me,
I'd put a bullet in my own head.
Jesus.
Yeah, well, they patched me up, what else are they gonna do?
You're out of your mind, you know that?
How's Renner been?
You mean the dickhead who's marching around like he owns the place?
Yeah, well, I'm back now.
Any word on the Russian pricks that did this?
- Not yet. - Good.
'Cause I want to be the one who locks the cage door on those borscht-eating fucks.
You gonna get that?
Deakins.
Patrick Finnegan, are you sure?
No, thank you, Dr. Melnick.
They find him?
No, one of the DOAs we dug up at that makeshift cemetery died of strangulation.
Patrick's prints were found on his neck.
So you think he might have gotten away?
He would have called us, unless he didn't make it out of the woods.
What the fuck are you waiting for? Get out of here.
You take it easy.
I'll do that.
Riverside City Power says at least 700 to 1,000 people
were without power because the fire blew out the wire lines.
They say they hope to restore power in the next few hours.
A stunning new development today
in the case of the murder of Talia Freeman,
when renowned lawyer and civil rights advocate, Furnell Washington,
held a press conference.
Yes, I admit I was wrong about the murder of Talia Freeman.
It was surely a grievous error on my part to imply
that one of Chicago's finest citizens was somehow involved in her death.
But the truth is that Martin Stein was in no way, I repeat, in no way involved.
How can you be so sure Mr. Stein wasn't involved?
Because one of my clients has since told me in confidence
the truth surrounding Ms. Freeman's death.
I spoke before knowing all the facts and, as I'm sure you know,
there's always a danger in that.
I've known Martin Stein for many years,
and I'm only sorry that my ignorant and emotional rush to judgment
has damaged his good name.
For that, I pray for his forgiveness.
Thank you.
Where the hell have you been?
There you are, Bets! I...
You didn't think to call?
Have you seen this?
Furnell Washington is actually praying to me as if I'm a god.
He's praying for my forgiveness.
I'll tell you what, I think I've figured out this divinity thing.
Just have a guy's pecker in your pocket, and boom!
You know what? You're gonna have a drink with me.
- I'm not having a drink with you. - Oh, yes, you are.
I know it's only Thursday, but what the hell.
Rules are made to be broken.
Ketel One Vodka for my girl,
and not one onion, uh-uh, not two onions,
but three, baby, three onions for my girl.
I said I don't want a drink!
- What? - Where were you, Marty?
What do you mean, where was I? What difference does it make? I'm back!
It makes a difference to me.
Hey, come on, let's have a toast to divinity.
Screw you.
Betsy...
This whole thing was just an unmitigated mess.
I mean, uranium mines and Russians, you just didn't want to hear...
Okay.
You wanna hear me say it out loud, I'll say it out loud.
I was scared.
I left town because I didn't know what these fuckers would do.
I don't know if they would skin me alive
or cut off my leg, cut off my ear, for crying out loud.
I don't know what these fucking savages are going to do.
You were scared?
Yes, I wet my pants! Figuratively speaking.
- What about me? - You don't wear pants.
You are a selfish cocksucker, you know that?
Yes, I know I'm a selfish cocksucker.
"I was scared, Bets!
"I didn't want the big, bad Russians to hurt me."
Well, fuck you!
All these years, I've taken care of you.
I don't know what you want. What do you... What... I don't get it.
You want a raise? I'll give you a raise.
What do you want? 50%? 70%? 75%?
You never answered my question.
- What question? - What about me?
What about you? I just offered you a raise, didn't I?
Tell me, Marty, what would have happened
if the Russians showed up here looking for you?
I'll tell you exactly what would have happened.
You would have gone to the kitchen,
you would have made a big stack of those beautiful latkes.
You would have given them two, three, four, five, maybe six bottles
of icy, cold vodka and everything would have been fine!
Before or after they killed me?
Okay. I get it.
I get it, I get it. I'm a little slow. I get it.
I should have told you I was trying to protect you.
I wasn't thinking.
Yeah, that's typically your problem.
Well, we all know I'm an unadulterated asshole.
And that's why you love me. Remember?
And also, I'm really very cute.
Come on, look at me, look at the face, look at the face.
Come on, look at all these dimples. Right, look at her.
See, that's my girl.
Come on, have a drink with me, will you?
Hey, welcome back, Marty!
Glad you're not dead, Marty!
Cheers, Marty.
There we go. See? Everything's fine now.
I'll tell you what, Betsy, we are back!
We are back, and bigger and better than ever before. I'll tell you that right now.
Oh, God, you know what I'd love, Bets?
Some of that egg salad that I love,
and maybe some toast, cut off on the crust,
and some of that Vermont cheddar cheese.
- Goodbye, Marty. - What?
What do you mean, goodbye?
Betsy, I just... I said I was sorry. You're right!
You're right, I said I'm sorry.
Where are you... Wait.
Wait, just... Will you wait a second?
Betsy, would you...
What?
Betsy, wait a second!
You... What do you mean you lost her?
She was locked in a fucking room!
Yes, yes, I know!
I know that I have the flash drive.
She's the only one that knows how to fucking use it, you fucking moron!
Holy shit. It's Marty.
What do you want?
I am fine, how are you?
I'm alive, motherfucker, that's how I am.
I admit I've made some mistakes.
Mistakes, huh?
You know what, Ethan, you can be as mad at me as you like,
call me a low-life scumbag for all I care. Can I tell you something?
Bitching and moaning isn't going to do either one of us any good.
Bottom line, I have the flash drive!
So I think we should talk.
Oh, we're gonna talk, Marty. We're gonna talk.
Over here!
Patty! Patty!
Patty.
I have a pulse!
- Synced and corrected by peritta & rickSG - - www.addic7ed.com -