Hey, hey, hey!
What the fuck?
Wait! I gotta call it in!
Move it!
Hey!
Bobby, you hear me?
Right there, motherfucker!
Please.
Just fucking stop, man!
Just put the gun down!
Come on.
Please.
I'm fucking begging you.
I didn't touch him. I didn't touch that old man!
I wasn't even...
Worse on Friday Died on Saturday
Buried on Sunday
That was the end Of Solomon Grundy
Solomon Grundy Born on a Monday
Christened on Tuesday
Justine, please.
It's called "stimming," self-stimulation.
Whereas you and I might tap our fingers,
grind our teeth, bite our nails,
your son rocks back and forth.
It's more obvious, but perfectly natural.
We came here because we heard you specialized in...
What is it? What does he have?
I'm not a fan of labels, ma'am.
Your son is a remarkable young man.
Who goes crazy when you turn the vacuum on.
He wears one T-shirt, won't let you hug him.
Loud noises, bright lights
can be especially difficult for someone like your son.
The shirt, most likely fabric sensitivity.
Hugging, closeness, touching...
Justine, no shoes today.
That can be a challenge, yes.
When it's somebody else's child, it's a challenge.
When it's yours, it's a problem.
My practice focuses on education.
I'd like to work with your son, at his speed.
Help him develop the skills he'll need to lead a full life.
Communicating, eye contact, understanding non-verbal cues,
making friends.
The only friend he has is his little brother.
I'm sure moving from base to base hasn't helped.
My husband's in the Army, which means we all are.
Would you be willing to let your son stay with us for the summer
free of charge, working with me in a sensory-friendly environment?
That's not gonna happen.
If loud noises and bright lights bother him,
he needs more of it, not less.
The world is not a sensory-friendly place,
and that's where he needs to learn to live.
Not in here.
Doctor, in your opinion, can our son lead a normal life?
Define normal.
I need to finish! I need to finish!
Solomon Grundy Born on a Monday
Christened on Tuesday Married on Wednesday
Sick on Thursday Worse on Friday
Died on Saturday Buried on Sunday
I need to finish!
Solomon Grundy Born on a Monday
Christened on Tuesday Married on Wednesday
Sick on Thursday Worse on Friday
Died on Saturday
Buried on Sunday
Hmm. Mmm.
I, uh... I never thought of myself as a quitter... Fourth-generation farmer.
But between the property taxes
and the fertilizer costs, and insurance...
Oh, to hell with it.
What if, just temporarily, mind you,
we put this year's taxes on our credit card?
Do you like it?
I made it myself.
No, not particularly.
But do you ever sell them?
At church fairs now and again.
Mrs. Rice, you may have what the IRS calls a "home-based business."
What room do you use in your house when you make those?
I don't, really.
Just wherever I happen to be, I guess.
In front of the TV, at the kitchen table.
I like to spread my beads out in the dining room, but Frank gets...
Yes, it would be better if you could try to remember
the one specific space that you use.
Your home is 2,913 square feet.
IRS code allows us to deduct from your taxable income
a percentage of your workspace relative to your overall home.
- What... - Mr. Rice...
How big is your dining room?
Mrs. Rice's office.
I wouldn't so much as call it an office...
Oh.
It's, uh, approximately 200, uh...
Well, make it 300 square feet.
Excellent. Mrs. Rice...
Dolores.
Dolores, when you order supplies, do you order online?
I don't. I just zip on over to the bead store.
Zip?
I drive the truck.
The company truck.
Come in.
Mr. King, you have wandered so far outside your legal purview.
As president of Southern Gulf Bank,
I intend to protect my customers' privacy...
Stop talking.
You have a very cavalier attitude for the president of a bank,
with such a piss-poor capital cushion.
Now, I want a record of every transaction Abayed has had for the past two years.
Deposits, withdrawals, cashier's checks, credit cards.
Birmingham or Bahrain, it is now Treasury business.
Goodbye.
Medina.
Am I saying that correctly?
Medina, yes, sir.
I've read all your case files, Director King.
It's impressive work. Very.
Marybeth Ascension Medina.
Graduated University of Baltimore cum laude
with a degree in criminal justice.
Two years Baltimore PD as an analyst, two more at Homeland, analyst again,
and the last five years here at Treasury.
Analyst.
You did the heavy lifting on Agent Lorenz's case last month.
I worked on it, yeah, but Agent Lorenz...
Why haven't you applied for promotion to agent?
You're already doing the work.
Analyst is a good fit.
And I enjoy the work, so...
Well, you're a liar, Medina.
Ward of the state of Maryland's
foster care and juvenile detention systems
from age 11 to 18.
Weapons charges, assault and battery.
Ouch.
Attempted murder.
Those records were sealed.
Is that a nine millimeter?
.45.
You better sit your ass back down in that chair, young lady.
This is a big moment for you.
Make a good choice.
Lying on a federal employment application is a felony.
So right now, I'm the only thing standing between you and significant prison time.
What do you want?
Do you like puzzles, Marybeth Medina?
I meant what I said, son. You're welcome out to the place anytime.
Do you fish? I got a two-acre pond
that is just thick with catfish and bass...
I don't fish. I shoot.
Well, the farm's a perfect place to do a little plinkin', so...
Well...
Thank you.
You take care, son.
Thank you.
My daughter's meeting me for lunch. I think you two just might hit it off.
Nice to see you.
Already enhanced.
Was taken three years ago in Antwerp by an undercover Interpol agent.
Their target's on the far right.
Yeah, Zalmay Atta.
Go on.
Ran the world's largest opium pipeline.
Ties to Karzai and Ghani, Taliban.
I mean, he was considered untouchable.
Look at the rest. Tell me what you see.
Yeah, I remember most of these arrests. They were huge.
Focus. They're not all arrests.
It's the same man.
"Lou Carroll."
For what it's worth, it's an alias.
The Hong Kong photo goes back about five years.
In that one, he's "Carl Gauss."
Tokyo, Tel Aviv, Naples. There was a sighting in Tehran.
All describing the same man. "An accountant."
"Our accountant." "The accountant."
The accountant, like CPA accountant?
Okay.
Say you're the head of the Sinaloa Cartel.
Now, the cartels count their money
by weighing it in 18-wheelers.
But one sunny Mexican day,
your in-house money scrubber comes to you and says you're 30 million light.
Who can you trust to do the forensic accounting,
track your stolen cash?
Deloitte and Touche? H&R Block?
You somehow
contact an individual capable of coming in cold,
un-cooking years of books,
and getting out alive.
I retire in seven months.
Before I do, I need to know who he is, how he does it.
I mean, who survives this kind of clientele?
The secrets this guy has.
What exactly do you want me to do?
Report directly to me.
No other case work.
No other Treasury personnel involved.
At the end of the month, one of two things will have occurred.
Resolution of this case,
or we update your photo.
You want it your way? You got it!
Mom! Mom! Mom!
Mom! Why is Mom leaving? Mom!
Mom! Mom!
- I just got home. - You're always...
Mom! Why are you leaving?
I'm just asking you to stay.
- Just, please stay. - We had help!
- Stay here! Don't go anywhere! - You threw it away!
No. Hey.
That's it.
Please don't leave...
Mom!
Here we go, here we go.
Here we go.
Solomon Grundy Born on a Monday
Christened on Tuesday Married on a Wednesday
Sick on Thursday
Died on a Saturday Buried on Sunday
- That was the end of Solomon Grundy - That was the end of Solomon Grundy
Do it again.
Solomon Grundy Born on a Monday
Looks like somebody's seen too many westerns.
Yeah, must be what...
A mile out?
Not on my best day...
Holy shit.
Okay, listen to me.
In-flec-tion. Right? Listen, just listen to my tone.
I say, "Oh, I'm another year older,
"and I don't know if I'm ever gonna get out of this fucking place."
And you say...
You're probably right, Francis. You're extremely old.
- It's unlikely you'll survive to... - No. No...
No. Hold on. That's not what you say.
Two years together every night, you know.
I gave you a PhD in black money, but you gotta learn this.
- This is crucial. - You're frustrated.
- What am I? - You're frustrated.
That's what I am.
I'm frustrated. Good, good. Excellent.
Finally. All right. Let's do another one.
Lights out, ladies. Lights out.
Names and addresses. Go.
Semion Ivankov. 79 Primorsky Boulevard, Odessa.
The Meier brothers, Moshe and Itzhak. 221 She'arim Boulevard in Jerusalem.
Dominic Rabito of 960 Court Street, Brooklyn.
Ask for Bobby.
You know, I'm old.
I may be remembering things a little rosier than they were.
I mean, you want to fill out 1040s and itemize deductions,
and pull in 50 grand a year? I mean, that's a living.
Because if you go down this road, this road...
You can't go back, you understand? It's dangerous. Do you understand?
I understand.
You find one person you can trust, just one.
And do not make my mistake. You keep moving your ass around.
They gave me a new handler today.
I don't like this guy. He's dull.
Worried.
Ah, fuck it.
Good night, son.
Good night, Francis.
What about Zurich? Saudi Arabia?
The Swiss are cheap.
Dubai is one thing, but we're too conspicuous in the Kingdom.
I vote Chicago.
- Why? - There's an uptick in online chatter.
People looking for you.
- What people? - The unfriendly kind.
Let's try a legitimate client for once.
No cartels, arms brokers, money launderers, assassins.
I like safe. I like you safe.
Everyone's hiding something.
At least there's honor among thieves.
There's honor among Illinois electronics manufacturers.
They're in your current backyard. No risk of movement. You'll meet?
Yeah, I'll meet.
One last piece of business.
Just the Renoir.
I don't have a buyer for the Renoir.
The Pollock can move. Will you ever let it go?
Hello?
Just the Renoir. Drop the price.
Heavy sigh.
Go to work, dreamboat.
Now, Mr. Wolff, I half-suspect we're wasting your time.
I'm quite sure you're not.
And you know this how?
I'm on the clock.
Shit.
I hope we're not wasting ours then.
Look, kidding aside, I think if you saw our books, you'd run for the hills.
We have an incredibly complicated accounting system.
Depreciation schedules on hundreds of different items.
Full-time and contract employees.
Department of Defense classified accounts.
It's a numerical shitstorm.
I'll need to see all those books for the past 10 years.
Bank statements, complete list of clients and vendors.
Hard copies printed out, my eyes only. All the information's right here.
Okay, well, well, look.
This all came to my attention only last week.
Now, a junior cost accountant stuck her nose where it didn't belong,
and obviously had no idea what she was looking at.
Lamar's overreacting. There's no missing money.
How long have you been CFO of this company, sir?
15 years.
I need the books for the past 15, please.
Well, you're awful goddamn blunt!
I'm Lamar Blackburn's oldest friend.
I've been by his side
since he was turning out RC robots that RadioShack called crap.
I wouldn't take a dime without his say-so.
You're angry.
Oh, this is bullshit.
Unusual way of making contact with you, Mr. Wolff.
You were recommended by Mansoor Haqqani.
We custom-made prosthetics for his youngest daughter.
You may know that she lost both legs
to a car bomb outside his investment firm in Lahore.
He told my brother, Lamar, that you were nothing short of supernatural.
Mr. Haqqani holds advanced degrees in mathematics from Cambridge
and Caltech.
Why does a man like that need you?
I don't discuss client business.
What do you suppose that young man is thinking right now?
"Why do I still feel my arm?"
I don't know.
"How did everything go so wrong, so fast?"
"It's cold. Turn up the heat."
Christian Wolff, I presume.
Mr. Blackburn.
Lamar.
Come with me.
Are you aware of Living Robotics' three income streams?
Consumer electronics, next generation prosthetics,
unmanned military applications.
Prosthetics division showed tremendous growth over the last 10 years.
It seems to have matured.
Consumer products is your highest source of revenue, followed closely
by Defense Department contracts and prosthetics at two and three.
Yeah. You are well-informed.
I never married.
Never had kids.
This company is my child.
That said, money has never been a motivation.
Balance sheets, profit and loss statements...
My mind doesn't function the way yours must.
I need you to be my eyes and ears, Chris.
Whatever you need to do your job, you let me know.
I'll start in the morning.
Son of a bitch.
Bloody hell.
Excuse me...
Who the fuck do you think you are?
Do you know who the fuck I am?
Simon Dewey.
Founder, CEO, Dewey Capital.
American. Shocking.
I have kidnap insurance. You obviously know that.
Sorry, but how in the world would I know that you have...
You people fucking amaze me...
When you interrupt somebody like that, it makes them feel
that you're just not interested in what they have to say.
Or maybe you just think what you have to say
is more important than what I have to say.
Is that what you think?
That gun makes you a big man, does it?
This gun? Simon, come on.
I'm part of a small but potent department of a private security force.
We have a client, let's call it a European manufacturing concern.
You're shorting their stock, but simultaneously,
you're spreading false rumors regarding the health of the company.
The resulting decline in the stock price, it's made you your millions,
but it's been at my client's expense.
They have been forced to cut hundreds of jobs, Simon.
These are third-generation metal workers, people with families.
Pensions are being rendered worthless because of you.
But you'll stop now. Correct?
Which company?
Wrong answer, Simon.
Look, genius...
That's the same spot, Simon.
Why you gonna let me hit you in the same exact spot?
I only meant
we hold short positions on dozens of companies.
Shit, son.
I suppose
you're spreading false information about more than one company.
If that's what you're doing, you're just gonna have to stop shorting them all.
That's ridiculous. I can't be expected to...
Ooh, I know.
All right, get your chin up, Simon. No pouting on my watch.
Yeah, you're a man. You just...
You're a man in your own way.
All right.
I'm an avid reader of the Journal.
So, I expect the cooperation to be reflected there.
Simon?
Are we good?
Yeah?
Attaboy, Simon. Proud of you.
Oh, hello.
Good morning. Oh, shit... Hi.
- Hi. - Um, um...
I'm Dana Cummings. You're the consultant? Mr. Wolff?
- Chris. - Hi, Chris, then.
I'm Dana.
Cummings.
Yes. Um...
These are all the files you wanted.
I cross-referenced them by year, and alphabetically, so...
It must have taken you all night.
It sure did.
Hmm.
Right.
So...
What do you want, Dana Cummings?
Oh, Mr. Blackburn, um...
Sorry, he said I should...
I'm the person who first noticed the missing...
- What I think was the missing money. - Yes, I understand. I'll find it.
Yeah. I thought we could... Have lunch...
I brought my own lunch.
No...
I bring my own lunch, too.
I can answer any questions that you have...
I have no questions.
Yeah, okay. Yeah, you wanna make your own assessment.
Yes, thank you.
Okay. Um...
I'm in accounting if you need anything.
There's, uh,
some donuts there for you.
I don't eat donuts.
Okay.
Mr. Secretary!
Yes, Helen.
Sir, there's been speculation that your ability to link banks in South Florida
to money laundering efforts of terrorists
are actually the result of a whistleblower or the NSA.
Care to comment?
Let me turn this over to the head of my task force,
Financial Crimes Director, Raymond King.
Folks, there's no great mystery here.
Nothing fancy. Just team effort,
comprised of long hours of good old-fashioned investigative work.
Questions?
Could you answer the whistleblower question?
No.
Hey, Sorkis, give me something.
I matched the face in your Antwerp photo to surveillance video in NYPD database.
Wait, wait, wait. NYPD? What did you find?
2006. Your guy takes out two mob enforcers
with a steak knife he lifted off an Italian restaurant down the street.
Then he strolls into a den of stone-cold killers
and goes on a seven-man killing spree,
using their own weapons.
Headshot, headshot, headshot.
Sorkis, stop.
A den of stone-cold killers? Where is this?
The Ravenite. Headquarters of the Gambino crime family.
He killed Anthony "Little Tony" Bazzano.
Forensics lists cause of death as blunt force trauma.
Your boy kicked him in the head once.
Again. Play it again.
Hey, hey, hey!
What the fuck?
Wait! I gotta call it in!
I've also got an audio file here.
Inside of the Ravenite was bugged.
Come on.
Please.
That's Little Tony.
I'm fucking begging you.
I didn't touch him. I didn't touch that old man!
Okay, get me that recording ASAP.
I wasn't even...
M.B.,
you're an analyst for Treasury.
What the hell have you got yourself into?
What do you have to hit to dent a steel thermos?
It's just old.
How did you, um, get into financial consulting?
Department of Labor statistics indicate
it's one of the fastest-growing professions.
Actuarial sciences are experiencing tremendous growth as well.
Okay.
I like the balance of it.
You know, I like finding things that aren't obvious.
Plus, my dad was an accountant.
He actually...
You know, he had the whole shtick. The, uh...
You know, the little amortization book, and the green eyeshade,
and the, like, dorky pocket protector and...
I have a pocket protector.
That's a nice one. I mean, his was dorky, that's...
Yours is nice.
Um, but he convinced me to go into the field.
Because I wanted to study art at the Art Institute of Chicago,
but art doesn't pay the mortgage.
"Art doesn't pay the mortgage, young lady."
Dad's tastes ran more to Dogs Playing Poker.
I like Dogs Playing Poker.
Because dogs would never bet on things,
and so, it's incongruous.
I like incongruity.
Yeah, Dogs Playing Poker is nice. It's just sort of a...
Just different.
So, I studied accounting at the University of Chicago,
where fun goes to die.
Why?
Why what?
Why does fun go to die at the University of Chicago?
Oh, no, it's just an expression.
I'm joking.
Right.
- Um, I'll leave you to it. - Okay.
Let me know if you need anything while you're here.
Have a nice day.
Yes. You, too.
Explain the 376, 109... 6,500,000... 6,008,000...
Accounts receivable, earnings before interest...
Tax, depreciation, administrative expenses...
100, 644,000...
Hydraulic sync systems, aluminum bar supplies,
techmod fitting, stable joints...
Please.
I'm fucking begging you.
I didn't touch him. I didn't touch that old man!
I wasn't even...
Okay.
Give me something.
Please.
...fucking begging you.
I didn't touch him. I didn't touch that old man!
I wasn't even...
Come on, come on, come on.
...begging you.
I didn't touch him. I didn't touch that old man!
Born on a Monday
Christened on Tuesday Married on Wednesday
Solomon Grundy
Born on Monday
Christened on Tuesday Married on Wednesday
Solomon Grundy
Come in! Come in, come in, come in. You have to see this. Look at this.
It's gonna blow you away.
I mean, it'll just jump right out at you.
There it is.
Uh-huh.
Living Robotics, 10 years ago.
Earnings before interest, tax, depreciation.
$14,495,719.
Nine years ago,
earnings before tax and depreciation...
Revenues go up, profits go down.
Down? No large capital expenditures dragging profits down.
No spike in raw materials or labor costs.
Year eight, profits and revenue both go up,
but not in a commensurate fashion.
X no longer equals Y.
Six, five, four, three. You're making money.
But there's a leak.
And the leak is...
Leak, where's the leak? Here.
Slewitt Manufacturing. I've signed these checks.
- Who authorized it? - Ed.
Mr. Chilton. They make electronic assemblies for the consumer division.
No, they don't. Look at this.
You notice anything?
- Second number in each is a three. - Yes.
Most people, when generating random numbers
tend to rely subconsciously
- on certain patterns. - Patterns, yeah.
Yes.
- I was right! - You were right.
Yeah.
I went through these ledgers for months, and I got through one fiscal year.
You went through 15 overnight?
That's not even the best part, look.
The best part is, they're routing money to a company that doesn't exist.
And yet, profits go up. And they continue going up.
Absolutely makes no sense.
- Where's the money coming from? - Exactly!
Um, it's not inventory?
Inventory turns. No.
- Chargebacks to vendors? - No. Perfectly in order.
- Internal offsets? - No. That's a terrible idea.
Um...
Cummings, you're needed in
whatever area I'm paying you to be needed in.
Sorry.
And?
$61,679,000.
And some change.
Who did it? Best guess.
I don't guess.
You'll have a report for me?
When I'm finished, yes.
- Hey, Ed. - What the...
We're having lemon merengue pie.
Those two bottles of insulin.
You know, I just thought
that you would appreciate me treating you like an adult, right?
So, here's what I got.
You administer your own accidental insulin overdose, and just...
Die.
But do it with dignity.
Your wife, who's sleeping upstairs, she'll be the beneficiary
of what's gotta be a very generous insurance policy, am I right?
But the only way she's gonna collect on that policy, Ed,
is if we have the appearance of an accident.
If we lay our hands on you, you're gonna fight, squeal.
She wakes up, my hands are tied.
One accidental death is just that, but two, no.
I'll have no choice.
I'll have to rock and roll a home invasion,
violate your wife a dozen different ways,
kill you both, burn the place to the ground.
I'm sorry for that. Ed, Ed, Ed?
Hey, nobody's gonna violate your wife, okay?
Aside from what that would say about me as a human being,
physiologically it's a non-starter.
Sometimes I think I just say shit, sample what comes out of my mouth.
I will, however, park a .45 in her brainpan.
I honor my commitments.
It's a concept you and your sticky fingers probably find hard to grasp.
Make a decision, sir.
Where are you going? Sir?
Sir?
Stop that. Why are you doing that? Stop that.
Sir? Sir? What are you doing? Excuse me?
Mr. Chilton passed away.
I was told to clean up the room.
What's happening?
Can you give us a minute, please?
This is the balance of your contract.
- I understand you're upset... - Yes, I'm upset.
I haven't finished yet.
Yes, you have.
Ed was a diabetic for 30 years.
You think he didn't know how to check his blood sugar?
Whatever unresolved issues remain,
my friend was poisoned enough by them to take his own life.
As far as I'm concerned, whatever he did is forgiven.
Please. I need to finish, please.
- Sorry, I'll come back. - No, no, come in, dear.
We're done.
You're very good, Mr. Wolff.
But I hope our paths never cross again.
I'm responsible for the death of my best friend.
I'd prefer not to be reminded of it.
Do you think that's true?
That Mr. Chilton killed himself...
I mean, do you think we're responsible?
It's very hard for me to interpret why people do what they do.
I'm not finished. I'm not finished with this.
I mean, look... Look at this.
See, cost reports. This is out of order.
They completely rearranged this. I don't...
I'm not finished. I'm not finished...
Bye, Chris.
No! Mom! Mom!
Mom! Mom! Mom!
Why is Mom leaving?
Mom!
Again.
Enough.
They're not done.
Tomorrow is another day. They have done their best.
If that were true, you'd be covered in blood and snot, not them.
Keep going.
Aggression, correctly channeled, overcomes a lot of flaws.
Tapping into that aggression requires
peeling back several layers of yourself.
It's my job to know my sons' limitations.
Get up.
It's your job to peel.
Do your job. On your feet.
Again!
We could have went to his house, shot him in his home.
And we'd be on a plane by now.
Or on a security camera, or some nosy neighbor's iPhone.
Call the bookkeeper in.
He's just too far. He won't hear...
Now.
Let's go. Get up. Come on.
Move!
Come on, come on, come on.
Christian!
Chris!
Again! Louder!
Up! Up!
- No, no! Please! - What the fuck?
Dolores!
She's coming with me.
No, no, stop! Stop! Leave her...
We're all going together. Pull that truck around back.
Let's go! Let's go!
Let's move!
Come on! Drive! Drive now!
Jesus fucking Christ!
God damn it!
Son of a bitch!
What the fuck?
When I say the name of your employer, you say "yes."
Practice.
Yes.
Camorra.
Juárez.
Gambino.
Do you understand the rules?
My left pocket.
They paid to
kill you both.
That's all I know.
- Hello, dreamboat. - Dana's in danger.
Kill Christian Wolff, transfer all domestic accounts overseas.
- Current vehicle? - F-150.
- Virus to triple Z? - Wipe everything.
Done. In the DOT database now.
Reassigning the license and VIN.
I have George Boole or Charles Babbage in the queue.
Boole. Obviously.
Silly of me. What else?
She is not your problem.
Straight to the trailer, hook it up, and disappear.
There's no time.
Only the trailer.
Address and phone number. Get it.
She's not answering.
Could have used the small box.
Well, she looked bigger in the photo.
God!
God damn!
Bitch!
Fuck.
We should go.
Since when are accountants difficult to ventilate?
Dead?
Christ! What'd he do, hit him over the head with an adding machine?
Oh, God.
All right, just put me in touch with the client.
I'll handle this accountant myself.
Running isn't an option for me. I can't just walk out on my life!
We have to go to the police. That's what normal, taxpaying people do!
Police can't protect you from someone who can afford to return $61 million.
Return? What are you talking about, "return"?
The money was being put back.
Stay here.
What are you doing in here?
- Who are you? - You can't...
You should not be here.
Sit down. Sit right there.
What is this place?
PanAmerica, Airstream.
34 feet 7 inches long,
8 feet 5 inches wide.
Dimensions which are perfectly adequate for one person.
Preferable, even.
This is where you live?
No, I don't live here. This is a storage unit.
That would be weird.
That's what would be weird?
I'd like to spend more time here.
However, I'm afraid some of my clients might follow me.
Why would your clients follow you? You're an accountant!
How do you know what to do here? Why are you prepared for this?
Plus, this is on wheels,
which means I can hook it up and be gone in 12 minutes.
Usually.
Sarcasm? Is that sarcasm?
No, that's not sarcasm. I don't use sarcasm. It's irritation.
Everything in the world that is important to me is in this trailer.
And right now, changing my routine for you is jeopardizing that.
Tell me that's not an original Pollock.
We should go.
Now.
- Medina. - Miss Medina?
This is Gordon Amundson with the FBI Language Services.
Uh, yeah. Any luck?
It's an unusual audio file.
Solomon Grundy is a nursery rhyme circa mid-1800s.
Your voice has four of the six intonation patterns
we use to define American English.
That's difficult to confirm with a rhyme.
Out of curiosity, was your subject a trauma victim?
Um, why do you ask that?
Well, you indicated on your submission
that this event occurred in a high-stress environment?
Yeah. Exceptionally.
That's interesting.
The verse was repeated a total of four and a halftimes
with zero variation in pitch, span, tempo, volume, or articulatory precision.
So, what does that mean, exactly?
Well, we often see this type of repetitive chanting
in children who have been exposed to trauma
or persons with neurodevelopmental disorders.
Neurodevelopmental disorders?
Fragile-X syndrome, autism.
Okay, so...
Let's say I was looking at mugshots.
How would that present itself? What exactly would I be looking for?
Fragile-X: Elongated face, protruding ears, poor muscle tone.
Autism's nearly impossible to identify visually.
The traits are behavioral:
difficulty with social interaction, communication,
lack of eye contact.
Lack of eye contact.
Okay.
Good luck to you.
Thanks.
None of this makes sense.
Why go through the trouble of skimming the money if you're gonna put it back?
Over the last two years,
the number of invoices submitted by Slewitt Manufacturing declined.
Scared of getting caught?
Price hikes?
Prices of consumer electronics go down, not up.
Right, down, yeah.
I can't afford this.
I know. My treat.
In the US, 104 men,
last name any standard derivation of your mathematician, Carl Gauss,
reported over $500,000 in any of the last seven years.
Okay. Go a million plus.
Seventeen.
Of the 17, how many between the ages of 25 and 45?
Four.
Of those four,
only one has an income stream that's cash-heavy or easily laundered.
And he
died three years ago.
What's this?
It's names of the 100 most famous mathematicians.
Look, we know what we're doing now.
So, just enter the names, narrow down the search right off the bat.
Male, Caucasian,
25 to 45, earning a million plus.
No investment income. He'll concentrate on cash.
What's in it for me?
Look, if you help me find him,
I'll see what I can do about getting you outta here.
Please.
Single earner or filing jointly?
Hey, those paintings in your trailer...
- They're real, right? - Yes.
You didn't buy them at auction, did you?
They're a form of payment.
Right.
Hey.
Thank you.
At my apartment.
Oh.
Yeah.
Can we sit down for a second?
Yeah. Okay.
Just...
Sit.
How do you, um,
know how to...
My father was an officer in the Army. Psychological Operations.
He was concerned that I might be taken advantage of somehow,
so he arranged for me to train with a number of specialists
throughout my childhood.
We lived in 34 homes in 17 years.
- You moved 34 times? - Mmm-hmm.
God. That's extraordinary.
No, I'm sure it must've been difficult, but...
I haven't been anywhere.
Well, Cancun. Not my proudest moment.
Um...
I just mean...
Your life is unique.
It's not unique. I have a high-functioning form of autism,
which means I have an extremely narrow focus
and a hard time abandoning tasks once I've taken them up.
I have difficulty socializing with other people, even though
I want to.
When I was a senior in high school, I wanted this special dress for prom.
I told myself that spending $100 on a trashy dress that I was gonna wear one time
to an event that I thought was silly in the first place, was...
- Wasteful. - Yes.
But Vera Wang made this black, strapless classic.
It was more expensive, but you could wear it to all kinds of future events.
- It was an investment. - Yes.
Where were you when I was in high school?
Oh, North Carolina, Israel.
Right. Um...
The problem was they wanted $1700 for this dress,
and I didn't have that, so...
- You asked your parents? - No.
Hang on.
Blackjack. I'd never played a hand,
but I went to the library, and I checked out all these books on strategy.
And I turned the Naperville North math club into a little Vegas.
- What's a math club? - Math club?
You compete against other schools.
Theory and speed math.
Like, what's 298,567 times 92?
27,468, 164.
Right. Um...
Blackjack.
I could tell you when to hit, stand, split, re-split.
I moved on to card counting, shuffle tracking, hole carding.
And I took everything I had, which was $183,
and I drove down to Harrah's in Joliet.
Why was this dress so important to you?
It wasn't about the dress.
I just wanted to walk into the gym and have everybody say "Wow!"
I was trying to belong.
I was trying to connect.
I think no matter how different we are, we're all trying to do the same thing.
But I lost all but $20 in the first 10 minutes.
I fed that into a nickel slot on the way out,
- and I won two grand. - Hmm.
I used the extra cash to pay for a limo.
Only wore the dress the one time.
Chris, why are we here?
Um...
I thought this hotel had good water pressure.
The Holiday Inn Express in Aurora has good water pressure.
Yes, but these towels are very fancy,
and cheaper hotels have scratchy towels.
And
I wanted you to like it.
Crazy Eddie and the Panama Pump.
Crazy Eddie Antar and the Panama Pump. Have you ever heard of...
- What? - Crazy Eddie Antar.
He owned a string of electronic stores in New York City in the '80s.
Crazy Eddie Antar, he started stealing almost as soon as he opened business.
Okay, I'm not following.
He deposited money in Tel Aviv,
and then he cycled it through Panama and put it back into his stores.
Okay, why take it out and put it back?
Well, initially he was just stealing in garden-variety tax evasion,
but then he came up with a better idea.
You see, by taking his own money,
stealing it, and putting it back on his books...
He was raining cash.
He took the company public at $8 a share.
A year later, it was trading at $75.
- Rita's taking Living Robotics public. - Yes.
But why would she hire you in the first place
if she thought you would figure it out?
I don't know.
I'll have to ask her.
Whatever Rita's involvement, it's not your concern.
You disappear, I make a call.
Please. I worry about you.
If I don't do something, Dana will die.
Risking your life for a girl you've known a week.
Why?
Heavy sigh.
What's the plan?
Find the person who wants to kill her.
And?
Shoot them in the head.
Last one.
Wolff, two "F"s, Christian.
Two hundred and forty five men.
Four with incomes over a million.
All over the age of 60. Sorry.
Right. Your guy's an accountant.
Two Christian Wolffs own CPA firms.
The first Christian Wolff owns...
Wolff Accounting. 121 South Street, Scottsdale, Arizona.
Income of 435 grand. It's a good year.
So good, we audited him two years ago.
He's clean.
The other Christian Wolff...
Nope. Only 75 grand.
ZZZ Accounting.
Wabash Way, Plainfield, Illinois.
ZZZ.
I mean, it's not exactly a smart Yellow Pages move.
Wait a second.
Who filed the returns for Kim's Nails, Wabash Way, Plainfield?
ZZZ Accounting. Could just be the neighborly...
Great Mandarin, Wabash.
ZZZ Accounting.
Paul's Laundromat.
ZZZ Accounting.
Tell me they're all registered as partnerships.
Every one.
Managing partner...
Christian Wolff.
- Christian Wolff. - Come in.
Christian Wolff, last year, ran $75,543 through his accounting firm.
Whoa. Who is Christian Wolff?
The accountant.
- 75 grand? That's chump change. - Agreed.
But he ran another $287,765 through Kim's Nails,
$445, 112 through Great Mandarin Chinese, and you'll love this,
$505,909 through Paul's Laundromat.
Paul's Laundromat? Are you fucking kidding me?
He's playing with us.
He can't clean that kind of money through an accounting firm.
The paper trail's too heavy.
So, he's laundering it through cash businesses.
All of those are in the same strip mall south of Chicago.
ZZZ?
I mean, he doesn't care about the traffic. It's a front. All of it.
Christian Wolff, Carl Gauss, Lou "Lewis" Carroll.
He's using the names of famous mathematicians as a cover.
Charitable contributions here to Harbor Neuroscience.
Last year alone, that's gotta come to close to...
$1,000,100.
That one's not a cover. That's the real deal. I checked.
So, you're telling me this guy risks his life
doing forensic accounting for some of the scariest people on the planet,
collects his fee, goes through all the trouble of laundering it,
and then gives almost all of it away?
Well, what if he's taking other means of payment?
Yeah, possible. Yeah.
I caught him, Ray.
Maybe.
Pack a bag. We're going to Chicago.
90% probability they're all right-handed.
Up to me, I'd snap four right wrists.
But maybe you enjoy waiting on a schoolyard sucker punch.
Life is a series of choices, none of which are new.
The oldest is choosing to be a victim.
Or choosing not to.
Second oldest: loyalty.
Family first, good times or bad.
Bonjour, fellas.
They're only glasses.
You think if you don't fight back, then maybe they'll like you.
Stop picking on you, calling you "freak."
Well, here's what it is.
They don't like you, they don't dislike you.
They're afraid of you.
You're different.
Sooner or later, "different" scares people.
Victim or not? Make a decision.
Go.
You're different.
Sooner or later, "different" scares people.
In here.
.357 Colt Python.
Serial number's gone.
Hydra-Shoks.
Wireless security cam.
Infrared, weatherproof.
He's got a network of 'em.
Whole backyard's got eyes.
This is our guy.
So, why does a guy who's up to his elbows in cash live here?
Given his clientele, he figures blending in will extend his shelf life.
It's the smart move.
Well, maybe not smart enough.
High-tech security cameras back here,
anybody could roll up in the front.
How does he cover this?
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.
Don't see that every day.
Boys, let's have a situation report.
We good, Ike?
All clear.
Rock and roll.
And how about you, sport?
It's Bobby.
I got nothing.
Okay, yeah, I'm getting a feed on the camera now.
Move it to the left side.
Is all this really necessary?
You should be watching his home.
Yeah? What you think?
That's your idea on the subject?
Love it when people tell me how to do my job.
I believe I recommended you leave the country.
- You declined. - He's an accountant!
I could see it in his eyes. The freak wasn't gonna let it go.
My best to Michelle.
I will.
I was old 10 years ago.
So, what's your story, Medina?
You know my story.
I know what the courts said.
Stuffed a handful of cocaine up a drug dealer's nose,
pistol-whipped him into the trunk of his car.
I was 17. It was August.
He cooked for three days, but lived.
Do you regret it?
The coke was half borax.
Same shit he kept selling my sister.
She's a dental hygienist in Annapolis now.
Married, three kids.
No, I don't regret it.
That's rough.
All due respect, Director King,
what the fuck do you know about "rough"?
Wait! I gotta call it in!
Move it!
You tell me, Medina.
Men kill each other for any number of reasons.
Bobby, you hear me?
Money, power...
Fear.
Right there, motherfucker!
Nine men would die that day at the Ravenite,
but for none of those reasons.
No, they'd taken something from the man who was killing them.
Something that couldn't be made whole again.
Something very important to him.
And he was there for his pound of flesh.
Please.
Just fucking stop, man!
Just put the gun down!
Little Tony Bazzano.
I'd been wedged in a van for six months
listening to that arrogant little prick belch, fart, and brag.
Please.
I'm fucking begging you.
I didn't recognize his voice with all the fear in it.
I didn't touch him. I didn't touch that old man!
I wasn't even...
Our man had come for revenge.
And he got it.
Nine dead.
And I was 10.
Your name?
Ray.
Raymond King.
Who employs you, Raymond King?
I'm a Treasury agent.
Are you a good one?
No.
No, not particularly.
Is that it?
Kids, I got... I'm a dad.
I got two kids.
Grown?
Yeah.
Yes, yes, they're all... They're all grown up.
Were you a good dad, Raymond King?
Yeah. I've been a good dad.
I'm a lousy agent, and I've been a weak man,
but that I didn't screw up.
That I got right.
Imagine you're a Treasury agent
approaching the twilight of a spectacularly dismal career.
And then one day, that break you should have been looking for.
Francis Silverberg, a black money legend.
Cleaned cash from Monte Carlo to Havana to Vegas.
He cooked the books for the Gambino family for 40-plus years.
Until one day, the boss, Big Tony Bazzano,
thought maybe the old man's age made him vulnerable to prosecution.
Ordered his son, Little Tony, to kill Francis.
Kid fucked it up.
Francis ran, became a federal informant in return for protective custody.
Could have turned my career around
if only I'd listened.
I didn't.
He was processed out, and he lost the only protection he had.
Stand clear of the gate.
The protection that he was promised when he testified against Big Tony.
And this time, Little Tony got it right.
He had Francis in a couple hours.
Down in a filthy basement in the Bronx, nailed to a chair,
tortured to death.
So, I volunteered for a joint task force.
Sat outside the Ravenite in a surveillance van for months
hoping to get a shred of evidence to use against Francis' killers.
Wait! Wait!
I gotta call it in!
Move it!
I went in there hoping I could ease my guilt.
And I met our accountant.
Why he let me live, I didn't know.
But he changed my life.
Gave my notice at the Department.
I started looking forward to the day again.
You know, feeling the sun on my face.
Quit drinking.
Was on my way out the door...
And then, the phone rang.
Ray King.
I'll never forget that voice.
Do you like puzzles, Raymond King?
She tells me she works for the accountant.
And that a shipping container packed with Chinese nationals
is passing through the Port of New York.
Few months later,
one ton of uncut Juárez cartel product is entering Miami.
All those cases you put together...
Smoke and mirrors.
So, who is he?
This accountant.
Prisoner 831. Fort Leavenworth, maximum security.
Military prison?
So, he was in the Army?
Army lent him to us to track al-Qaeda money launderers.
He was transferred from Leavenworth to our detention center in D.C.
Did the work of five men.
Data mining, cluster analysis.
He roomed with Francis.
They kept to themselves, played chess,
ate together, sat in the TV room together.
They were inseparable.
And then one day, a guard told Wolff
why Francis hadn't called or written since he got out.
That his burnt body had been found in a Staten Island landfill.
Wolff snapped, went after the guard.
He fractured the man's skull with a thermos.
Escaped from a third-floor window.
Took the thermos.
That's all you got? I mean, Leavenworth, he'll have military records...
Records are all heavily redacted.
Well, then arrest records, something?
Spring of 2003, at a funeral home in Kankakee, Illinois.
Our boy sends six locals to the hospital with a variety of injuries.
No one knew Wolff.
The older man who came with him was identified as a colonel, US Army.
A funeral home.
Whose wake?
One customer that day.
Mrs. Lauren Alton.
Mrs. Alton taught first grade for 13 years in Kankakee.
Survived by a husband and two boys, ages 12 and 10.
By all accounts, an ordinary life, well lived.
But cut short.
It'll be all right.
Excuse me, sir, this is family only.
Sir, I'm going to ask you to step outside.
And then a fight breaks out. A brawl, really.
Over what, the authorities never pinned down.
Get your hands...
Deputies respond.
A Barney Fife-type squares off with our boy, gets rattled, pulls his gun.
The colonel just stepped in front of 831.
Army collects both men.
Police report names Wolff as "Soldier One."
And widower identified the colonel by name.
His late wife's former husband.
I checked. It's an alias.
No more real than "Christian Wolff."
She was the dead colonel's ex-wife.
And you think Wolff is what to him?
Were you a good dad, Ray King?
I've given up trying to figure out when I'll get a call.
The "why" though, that I've got.
Someone breaks his moral code.
Why are you telling me this?
I'm retiring in a few months.
When she calls,
somebody needs to be there to answer.
No.
He's a criminal, Ray.
Yeah.
He aids and abets drug cartels, money launderers.
He's a fucking killer.
Believe me, I wrestled with the same decision.
But when I got that first call,
I realized something.
I'd spent my whole life only recognizing my lucky breaks after they were gone.
The Brit, who is she?
Hello?
Miss Medina.
Tell Eliot Ness to get his feet off the furniture.
He's not in a barn.
Living Robotics.
Write it down.
North of six feet, short hair, athletic build, yes?
- Correct. - But when you say short hair,
you mean short hair like my hair, or you mean short hair like...
What's the difference?
I was told you could fix this, so fix it!
But you did speak to the man, am I right? You spoke to him?
What did he sound like?
I didn't make small talk. What's it matter what he sounded...
That's Ike, right? That's the north side?
Yo, Bobby, was that you?
Bob.
Bobby.
Ike, are you there?
Ike?
Guys, stop fucking around. Someone answer me. Ike?
Pull was to the left.
You might consider using a round with a superior ballistic coefficient.
Give me the layout of the home.
Points of entry, corridors, rooms, cover.
Go.
Fuck.
- Sit down. - What's this...
Shut up. Sit down in the chair.
You ever see a match-grade round traveling 3,000 feet per second go through a window?
Nobody does.
Get down, now!
Four men, front entrance.
Go right at him. Go now.
You...
I got the cameras.
Go join your friends.
Up.
Clear.
Smoke.
Go, go!
Attack front entry!
Man down!
Guys, talk to me.
You got eyes on who it is?
Someone talk to me. Let me know what the sitrep is.
Are they dead?
Give me a situation report. How many down?
Are they dead? Answer me!
Okay, he's on the roof. Start forming up. Let's move.
Check skylights, check windows.
That motherfucker comes in,
I wanna hear gunshots and I wanna hear "target eliminated."
That's enough. He's in the goddamn house.
Get out there and end this!
Brax, give me a situation report. Have you got eyes on anything?
What's happening?
Say something!
Solomon Grundy Born on a Monday
Christened on Tuesday Married on Wednesday
Sick on Thursday Worse on Friday
Died on Saturday Buried on Sunday
"And that was the end of Solomon Grundy"
What is this?
Hey! Hey!
Stand down!
Fuck off!
Hello, Braxton.
No, no.
Don't...
Don't do that...
Been looking for you for 10 years,
and you're gonna come at me like we just saw each other yesterday?
That's what you're gonna do?
What did I...
What'd I think?
What'd I think? That you were gonna be happy to see me, I guess.
I am happy.
I need to finish.
You should go.
I should go?
Okay...
Okay, I'll just go.
But first, I'm gonna ask you a question.
You're gonna give me an answer.
Why would you and Pop go to that funeral?
She left us. Do you not remember that?
Do you not remember that?
It's your fault that Pop's dead! You hear me?
It's your fault!
- I'm sorry, Braxton. - Sorry?
Sorry doesn't cut it, you weird fuck!
You don't give a shit about me? You don't give a shit about me?
How about now?
Are you gonna fight?
Fight!
I'm sorry, Braxton.
If you had to see her,
if that was something that you had to do,
you call me.
I'm your brother. I've always had your back.
You don't call him, you call me.
Did you even wonder where I was?
I knew where you were.
I just wanted you to be safe.
Some of my clients are quite dangerous.
I'm, kind of, considered fairly dangerous myself.
Well, you've made improvements.
Shit, man.
You and me here...
What are the odds?
Statistically speaking...
Christ, man! It's rhetorical.
I mean, really?
I was just saying.
Not happy.
Do you consider what you do important, Mr. Wolff?
To someone other than yourself, I mean?
What I do is.
Living Robotics' public offering would've been worth billions.
Money to be used for neuroprosthetics, nanotechnology.
You...
Why in God's name did I ever hire you?
To leak-proof your books.
Dana found a mistake, and you wanted to be sure it was safe to go public.
And now you want to kill her.
I'm fond of Dana.
But I restore lives, not Dana! Me!
Men, women, children, I give them hope. Make them whole.
Do you even know what that's like?
Yes, I do.
Sorry.
I missed you.
"Missed you, too, Braxton.
"Missed you, too, because I love you.
"You're my brother."
Maybe...
Do you want to...
Maybe I could see you in a week?
You name the place. I'll be there.
How will I find you?
You won't.
I'll find you.
There.
How do you respond to rumors
that some of the victims have wounds consistent with anti-aircraft rounds?
I'd say the Chicago Police Department
has ample experience solving all manner of homicides.
Tom.
Sir, how are the conspiracy and fraud charges
related to the deaths of Lamar Blackburn and his sister, Rita?
This is a very fluid situation
with a lot of surprising revelations over the last 48 hours.
Let me introduce you to the person leading the investigation...
Agent Medina.
Um...
Good afternoon.
As much as I'd like to take credit for this,
I can't.
Because this was a team effort
comprised of long hours of good old-fashioned investigative work.
Questions?
He was just like our other two. He was a happy baby.
Now he rarely speaks.
It's like our child is missing. He's not there.
He's lost, and he needs our help.
We thought...
We hoped that he would catch back up.
But he didn't.
One in 68 children in this country
are diagnosed with a form of autism.
But if you can put aside for a moment
what your pediatrician and all the other NTs have said about your son...
What? NTs?
Neurotypicals.
The rest of us.
What if we're wrong?
What if we've been using the wrong tests
to quantify intelligence in children with autism?
Your son's not less-than.
He's different.
Now, your expectations for your son may change over time.
They might include marriage, children, self-sufficiency.
And they might not.
But I guarantee you,
if we let the world set expectations for our children, they'll start low...
And they'll stay there.
Maybe your son's capable of much more than we know.
And maybe,
just maybe,
he doesn't understand how to tell us.
Or...
We haven't yet learned how to listen.
Honey, for the hundredth time, don't wander off like that.
- I'm so sorry. - It's all right. It's fine.
Can he visit with you for a while, Justine?
Okay, good. Come on, folks. I'll give you the nickel tour.
You okay with that?
It's okay, hon. Come on.
No, they'll be fine.
Justine's one of our few full-time residents.
She stopped talking 30 years ago.
Communicates with a digital translator now.
Doctor, how is Harbor funded?
We're fortunate to have very generous private donors.
I'll say they're generous.
Oh, why is that?
That woman, Justine...
- Yeah, my daughter. - She's your daughter?
The reason I started the institute.
Justine's computer, it's a BX32.
Water-cooled, 12 core.
Oh, that's right. You're a software engineer.
Well, some of our donors are more generous than others.
Why? Is that a good computer?
Good?
Doc, she could backdoor the Pentagon with that rig.
Hello, dreamboat. Shall we chat?
- Hi. - Hi.
Sign here, please.
Thank you.
- Thanks. - You're welcome.