Previously on Reacher...
Susan Duffy, meet Angel Doll.
Thanks for the hand, Angel Doll.
- McCabe's the one who kidnapped you? - Yeah.
You ever hear McCabe or your dad use the name Xavier Quinn?
Not that I can remember.
Beck confirmed McCabe is running this whole thing.
That's got to be Julius McCabe, right?
I know him as Xavier Quinn.
The guy you thought was dead?
The guy I thought I killed. How's the bodyguard?
We patched him up, took a few runs at him,
- but he's not saying shit. Got a call from McCabe.
He sent someone over to Bizarre Bazaar to get Angel Doll's laptop back,
because it had a tracking app on it in case it was lost or stolen.
Here's the address.
Anyone inside ain't supposed to be? We kill them.
Yeah? - Eliot, is Duffy with you?
- Uh, no. Come on, man,
I want to play the Feud.
Come on... hey, asshole!
She and Villanueva left me here to babysit again
while they check out some lead.
A rug and tubing facility.
Why? Everything okay?
Quinn's men are looking for Angel Doll's laptop.
They'll be on them any minute, and no one's answering their phones.
Shit. I-I'll look up the name of the company and call them.
Get it done.
It's like every 20 minutes with you.
Get that thing checked.
I did.
They put me on the Flomax and the what-do-you-call-it?
The saw palmetto.
Well, up your dosage.
I'd rather not talk about this.
I'd rather not be constantly held up by your mango-sized prostate.
Why would someone be calling here when it's closed?
Maybe leaving a message.
It's a commercial shop.
People don't just pop in here to buy shit.
You do business with this place, you know the hours.
Our cells don't work in here.
Something's off. I'm answering.
Tubing.
Get out of there now. Quinn sent people over.
We got to move or we're dead.
He's the last one.
It'll look suspicious if there's another ambush and I'm the only survivor.
Head to the south exit.
When you get close, yell for Villanueva to follow.
I'll make sure you get out.
They're tracking Angel Doll's laptop. Where is it?
In the car.
When you drive away, throw it out the window.
Go.
South exit. Let's get out of here!
Shit.
Get rid of it!
Get in.
Who the fuck are you?
Duke's replacement.
Go!
Tires are stuck.
- We're gonna have to push her out. - Goddamn it.
Our competitors don't hire women and old guys.
And one of them had a Glock 26 Gen3.
Those are government issued.
I'm telling you, these are federal agents.
Okay.
- Cop—
Jesus.
Boss is pissed like a copperhead. This ain't good.
This ain't good at all.
Salud.
What are we celebrating here?
After today? How about breathing?
We didn't find Teresa. We should still be looking.
I get it, and we will.
- But I also need you to be... - To be what?
- Nothing. - Say it.
I'm not saying shit.
Remember that Menjivar kid?
Four years old, disappeared from his backyard,
everyone figured some chomo did him in.
Mija, this is a different kind of case.
Bullshit. Missing's missing.
No one in Boston PD thought that kid was coming home
in anything other than a box.
By Thanksgiving, the news stopped covering it,
the parents gave up,
had a funeral with an empty coffin at St. Joachim's,
then what happens?
Connor Lafferty.
Old man fucking Lafferty walks little Marco Menjivar
right into Salesbury's for an ice cream, like any other day.
I still remember the order:
rocky road and a Diet Dr Pepper.
This isn't a case of some sweet old man with Alzheimer's
that took a kid home thinking it was his grandson.
The guys that grabbed Teresa are major league.
My point is, odds get beat.
Marco Menjivar was missing for nine months.
Statistics said his body was rotting in a landfill or an oil drum,
and he wasn't even hurt!
He was fed, he watched cartoons, got taken care of.
Now he's 14, hardly remembers it,
kid was all-county wide receiver
- last season. - Tight end.
All I'm saying is that good shit can still happen.
So either stay on board and believe some of the good is coming our way,
believe that odds get beat, or shut up about it.
Okay.
Let's get back to work.
Fuck.
Hey, Paulie.
We got a little "Neptune Society" thing going on.
You want to give us a hand?
- Okay, then.
Pick him up, tough guy.
There we go.
I threw a living, breathing guy down here once.
Paulie broke his spine.
Poor bastard couldn't walk.
While we were waiting for the wave,
he was begging me to shoot him instead of letting him drown.
What'd you do?
I let him drown.
Bombs away.
Hey, yo! Look at that. Nature's toilet.
Tide comes in strongest this time of day.
Pulls everything in that cove out like a vacuum.
Undertow's brutal.
Let's go get the other one.
You don't seem to be too broken up about your pals getting killed.
They ain't my pals. They're cannon fodder.
Warm bodies to do the things McCabe needs done when he needs them done.
He pulls them in from all over...
dishonorable discharges from the service,
guys tossed from the police academy for failing the psych eval, ex-cons,
the chronically antisocial and unhirable.
No offense.
What category do you fall into?
I'm like Tony Soprano.
I'm in waste management.
That shit never gets old.
What will you do if the tide doesn't clean up your mess?
These rips could pull a Clydesdale out to sea.
I know these currents like the back of my hand.
Speaking of the back of your hand, I just realized who you are.
Duke told me about you.
You're the one that made Paulie knock himself out.
Not out. Just down.
Either way, Paulie's gonna fuck you up.
Better be careful.
Why do you give a shit?
I don't.
I just don't want to have to drag your big ass down here.
It's not like I get paid by the pound.
Reacher.
Yeah. You guys okay?
We're good.
Thanks for saving my ass today.
I owe you.
Saving the life of a good person is a pretty low bar for praise.
Next moves?
Villy's back at the cabin getting his car.
We're gonna split up to cover more ground,
check on some of the addresses from Angel Doll's laptop.
You wrote 'em down?
Why would I do that? They were on a laptop.
Good point.
No, we remembered about five of them.
I'm gonna hit a place that makes storage crates.
Figure they use them to move the rugs.
Villy's gonna run down some kind of industrial lubricant plant.
I have no idea what that's for, but from what I could find online,
it looks like a legit operation that Quinn might buy product from, for some reason.
His guys could be waiting for you
now that Quinn knows Feds are snooping around.
We've got no choice.
Their location's been compromised, so they'll have to move Teresa.
If we're lucky, maybe we catch 'em in the act.
And if we do, I'm taking 'em out.
Sounds like a plan.
- Anything else? - Yeah.
I have your badge.
Shit. I didn't notice I'd lost it.
Uh, give it back to me next time I see you.
Reacher!
I got to go.
Reacher, where the hell are you?
What the hell were you doing behind there?
Had to take a piss.
I have nine bathrooms inside this house.
Yeah, but I was outside.
I just got a call from McCabe. Were those guys really Feds?
Not sure. Harley got a better look than I did.
Well, McCabe sent two of his men over here.
- They're in the kitchen now. - It's your house.
- If you don't like it, tell them to leave. - It doesn't work that way.
McCabe isn't screwing around.
First, the Angel Doll bullshit, and now these Feds.
He's on edge and pissed. Two things you don't want that guy to be.
You're my head of security. Do your fucking job.
Heard things been tough lately.
Don't worry, princess.
Cavalry's here.
Hot as hell, black as pitch.
Thank you.
You like the coffee?
It's okay.
It's from a feline's asshole.
Some posh brand Zachary likes.
They feed coffee beans to cats,
then dig through the litter box after they pass 'em through.
What for?
Something in their digestive system improves the taste.
It tastes like coffee.
Might want to leave the cat out of it.
You owe me 20 bucks.
I told you. He don't like pussy.
Speaking of pussy,
I've never been so jealous of a fork in my life.
You like cream?
- I know where you can get some more. Mm-hmm.
Oui, de ta mère.
What did she say?
She said the cream came from your mother.
Probably 'cause she's a big fat cow.
So she's funny now?
You have any thoughts on dessert?
No, man.
I got diabetes.
A cat's asshole?
Hey, brother?
Can you take these cuffs off?
They're killing me, man.
Absolutely not.
Oh, come on, man.
They're killing me.
Oh, I mean, my wrists haven't hurt this bad
since I was 13 and I found my uncle's Elle MacPherson Playboy.
Jesus Christ.
Hey, look, man, we've been hanging out for days.
Watching TV, shooting the shit like regular guys.
But then you got to feed me chow mein like I'm a baby bird.
It's fucking humiliating.
If you're not gonna let me eat like a regular guy and
just like take a break off these cuffs,
least you could do is let me have a Chesterfield.
I told you there are regulations.
Come on, man.
None of me being here follows regulations.
- I hate the smoke. - Crack a window.
All it's gonna do is take seven minutes of my life, not yours.
Come on, brah.
Front right jacket pocket.
Come on, do me a solid.
Please.
Only once.
All right.
Only once.
And I never want to hear about a fucking cigarette ever again.
All right.
One time.
Make it count.
Understood?
Thanks for the smoke.
I hope you got good news.
Sounds like it's the same as yours.
Those places were a waste of time.
Where are you now?
Stopped to gas up.
You're gassy enough.
Drop whatever's left of whatever you're eating.
- I'll order you a salad at the cabin.
Steven.
Steven! Steven?
Oh, my God.
Oh, my God! Steven?
Steven?
Fuck!
No way you'd risk getting me killed
by calling unless it was something really important.
Eliot's dead and the bodyguard's gone.
You got to get out of the there.
By now he already told Beck the kidnapping attempt was a fake.
If he had, Paulie would be up here right now tearing my head off.
Does Cooper have his phone?
No, it was locked in the other room.
Uh, I'm guessing he just ran out of here soon as he could.
Then he can't call Beck.
Well, he can go to a bar, use their phone.
You said Beck's number was unlisted.
How many numbers do you have memorized?
His only play is coming here in person.
How much time do I have?
I don't know...
Wait!
Wait, uh...
His smartwatch says that his heart rate spiked
and then stopped...
ten minutes ago.
Where's Villanueva?
He's headed back here.
Okay.
I'm gonna need his help if I'm gonna intercept
the bodyguard before he gets to the house.
What-what reason are you gonna give Beck for leaving?
I'm not gonna give it to him.
You are.
Reacher?
Get to the blind turn that leads to Beck's house.
Pull over 40 yards south and empty the car.
Make it as light as possible.
I'll be there as soon as I can.
What the hell's going on?
Bodyguard killed Eliot.
If you don't do exactly as I say,
the kid'll have died for nothing.
That's a big boy.
The landlines are all out, too.
What the hell is going on?
Someone must've cut the power.
Who?
Maybe the guys Angel Doll was working with.
We've killed a bunch of their people in the past 24 hours.
Could be retribution.
Might be coming after your son.
Electric's down all over the property.
The gates open by default when there's a power outage.
It's open?
Well, who the hell's watching it?
One of the new guys McCabe sent.
Well, get down there with them. We might be going to war.
Fuck off. You ain't my boss.
No, McCabe is.
And you want to see what he'll do to you if his operation is wiped out
and you're not at your post?
Okay, look,
I'm gonna go to the end of the road that leads to the property.
It's the only way in or out of here.
If anyone thinks they're coming in, they're gonna have to go through me first.
What's happening?
Go back to your room and lock the door. Everything will be fine.
No, Richard, come on down here with me. I'll keep an eye on you.
He's safer upstairs.
I want him where I can see him.
Richard, do what I say.
I don't know. It just happened a few minutes ago.
Well, I-I don't really think that's necessary, but...
All right.
Got it.
- I'll do it now.
McCabe wants the entire staff searched.
Maid, cook, groundskeeper.
Grab the mechanic, too. Toss all their rooms.
If there's another rat, McCabe wants it caught.
Let's go.
- Get out of bed.
- Get out now. Let's go, come on.
- Get off me! What the hell is going on? - Downstairs.
- Downstairs now. Yeah, you too. - Get downstairs.
- Get down there. - For God's sake.
Now. Move your asses.
We don't have much time.
- Pull your car to the middle of the road. - Why?
We're gonna flip it over.
Of course we are.
Follow me.
We'll use the slope to our advantage.
Get under it and give it all you got.
- I don't think we can do this. - I'll do 90% of the work.
Just put your weight behind it.
When I say "lift," lift. Ready?
Lift.
Oh!
- Come on. Push! - I am pushing!
I bet if there were doughnuts underneath,
you'd be able to flip it.
Fuck you.
Okay.
What exactly is your plan?
This is the narrowest part of the road. No way around.
He'll have to get out of his car to help you.
Help me?
You'll be in the car.
Goddamn it.
What's so funny?
I'm supposed to retire in five months.
I was gonna ride my desk out till the end of the year,
start hammering pension checks,
but when things went sideways for Duff...
Been with her since she was a boot.
Closest thing to a kid I'll ever have.
Now, I'm like every veteran cop in every cop movie.
Inches from the gold watch,
but I'm gonna get killed when this guy comes flying around the corner
and plows right into my ass.
He'll hit the brakes as soon as he rounds the corner.
If he's going 70, he'll come to a complete stop in just over 490 feet.
We're 500 feet from the turn.
Ten feet to spare?
That's not much wiggle room.
Odds are he'll be going under 70 miles an hour on this road.
Promise you'll be fine. Math is never wrong.
What if he hits the brakes late?
Do your retirement payments transfer to your wife?
Asshole.
Shut up. I hear a car.
- Shit!
What the hell?
This is for Eliot.
Good work.
I got to get back to Beck before they send someone to check on me.
Let's throw the guy in the trunk.
Hide the car in the brush.
I'll help you roll it over.
I got it.
I promised the car wouldn't hit you, can't stop a coronary.
Asshole.
Yes, well, it was a cold case, several years old.
He was following up on an anonymous tip
on a Worcester drug ring, and it looks like it was a setup.
Mr. Eliot, I just want you to know, we are not gonna rest
until we get every person responsible for what happened.
I-I'm sorry. May I ask your name again, Agent?
Of course. It's Susan Duffy.
I remember.
We met at the Christmas party.
M-Mr. Eliot, I, um...
Earlier today, I was in danger, and Eliot warned me.
He saved my life.
Your son was an excellent agent, sir.
Thank you, Agent Duffy.
Hey.
The man who killed Eliot is dead.
Good. Now let's get the rest of them.
What will you tell the DEA?
Same bullshit I told Eliot's father.
Should buy us some time, not much,
but hopefully enough to find Teresa.
When it's all over, I'll come clean.
It'll cost you your job.
Good. It should.
I owe you a thank-you.
What for?
If you hadn't taken out the lights, I could've never left
and Cooper would've come home and I'd be dead.
Saving the life of a good person is a pretty low bar for praise.
Okay.
Pulling up to Beck's now. Be safe.
You stay safe, too, Reacher.
What's going on?
You tell me. What happened out there?
Nothing.
Heard over the radio, a drunk hit a power transformer,
took out the lights for half the county.
I didn't mean to cause undue alarm,
but with everything that's been happening,
better safe than sorry.
That's what the boss thought, too.
So, while you were gone, we searched the entire place.
Your boss is smart.
You find anything? Everything okay?
No.
It's not.
Turns out,
I let someone in my home
that's working with the Feds.
Well, you think you know someone, right?
You invite 'em into your home,
you shelter 'em,
you feed 'em.
You trust them with your family.
And how do they repay you?
With betrayal.
- This was found in the maid's room. - What the hell is that?
Some kind of phone.
She was giving out details about our business—
when the next delivery is happening,
approximate cargo size,
even who's gonna be at my goddamn birthday party.
Fucking Judas was texting her people
every two weeks, and the latest entry
was ten days ago, so we got four days before anyone's looking for her.
Who would be looking for her?
Fucking ATF, stupid.
Who else?
McCabe's gonna blame me for this. I hired her.
Let me talk to her. I was an M.P.
I know how to interrogate and get information out of people.
If you want to talk to Frenchie, you're gonna need a Ouija board.
You killed her?
Not me.
I gave her a crack to the head to get her to cooperate.
Oops.
You think that's funny?
Why are you so bent out of shape? You fucking her?
I'm pissed 'cause you killed a source
before I had a chance to get any information.
That's what I said.
It was a dumb move by a dumb man.
Do something about it.
See? It doesn't kill everybody.
Hey, Punch and Judy, we got work to do.
Move your ass.
Man, he rung your bell like school's out.
I warned you he was coming for you.
You got off lucky. He could have killed your ass.
And I would've had to dump the maid by myself.
By the way, keep your mouth shut
around the house staff about her being dead.
No one saw anything because it happened in the kitchen.
We told everyone she was fired for stealing from Beck's business.
They don't know shit, and we got to keep it that way.
Power's back.
Bet you feel like a jackass,
thinking someone was gonna come kill us all
when the real danger was inside the house the whole time?
Go.
Look at what that big idiot did.
Okay, let's go flush her down.
This whole thing really screwed up my plans, you know?
I got me a boat down in Port Rome that I'm fixing up, The Sweet Marie.
I was gonna do a little fishing on Saturday.
Now that Angel Doll's dead, I'm gonna have to write new want ads
for a new maid and upload it to all the job sites.
Barely know how to do that shit.
I'm not Steve Jobs.
Then I'm gonna have to go through all the résumés.
You know McCabe's gonna be really up my ass
to do background checks on everyone.
This fucking snail-eater really ruined my weekend.
Good. Found your off switch.
You okay?
I'm fine.
I know you dumped Annette's body in the ocean with Harley.
I had to.
I work for them.
I say "no," I'm the next one in the water.
You're afraid of Paulie.
I'm not afraid of him.
I just haven't solved him yet.
Big guys like that aren't usually that fast.
He took me by surprise.
Won't happen again.
It's okay to be scared of these guys.
My dad is.
So am I.
Reacher?
The maid was ATF.
She's gone.
They killed her.
Shit.
You're with DEA, maid's with the ATF.
It's Alphabet City in that place.
They're running guns, not drugs.
It all makes sense.
Beck met with Darien Prado.
International drug runners need lots of high-end, untraceable weapons.
I didn't understand why Beck needed a mechanic for barely used cars,
but Quinn needs him to make sure
the weapons are in perfect working order before selling 'em.
That's why I found that industrial lubricant company on Angel Doll's laptop.
They purchase the oil in bulk, test the guns, grease 'em up.
It's white-glove service when you buy from Quinn.
That's also why the dog couldn't sniff anything on that truck.
There were no drugs, just guns.
Quinn has that big sale coming up.
It's gonna be a shitload of illegal firepower.
The question is, for who?
We already know they supply drug dealers.
There are lots of people who'd like to get their hands
on what you saw in that warehouse—
militias, terrorists, warlords, cartels—
any number of buyers for any number of reasons.
None of 'em good.
You're being quiet.
Was thinking about the maid.
If they killed a Fed when they knew she was a Fed,
what the hell could they do to Teresa?
- We've been summoned to the warehouse. - We?
Yeah. You and me, specifically.
Did you sleep last night?
No.
Well, an exhausted bodyguard's no use to me.
What the hell is your problem?
No problem.
Let's go.
Reacher?
You still have the maid's blood on your hands.
Why don't you wash up and get your shit together?
Hey. What's up?
I don't know exactly what's going on, but both Beck and I have been
summoned to Bizarre Bazaar.
Only one person has the power to do that.
You're gonna see Quinn.
He wants to talk to you for some reason.
Or maybe we take one step inside his warehouse
and meet a firing squad for letting a federal agent infiltrate his operation.
Well, Beck I get, he hired her.
- But why you? - I'm his head of security.
And Quinn's a psychopath.
Don't go.
Don't have a choice.
At least keep the phone on in your pocket.
Villy and I will head over there, stake the place out.
If you get compromised, we'll head in, back you up.
I'll be surrounded by trained killers.
So, I just leave you in there to get killed?
I don't care what his plans are for me.
I have plans for him.
Negative.
He got past me in Portland and Virginia.
I get near him, it's not happening again.
What, so you kill him and try to shoot your way out?
He could recognize me, and I might not have a choice.
And he might have no idea who the fuck you are.
He had amnesia, remember?
Maybe he did.
Maybe he faked it.
Reacher, it's suicide. And homicide.
You kill Quinn, then you're killing Teresa too,
'cause for all we know, Quinn's the only person who knows where she is.
- Someone on his crew will know. - Even if someone in his crew
has her location, they'll likely kill her
after they find out there's a third infiltrator in the mix.
They'll cut their losses, clean up their mess and move on.
Duffy.
She's already dead.
Fuck you.
They found out the maid was undercover,
and she was dead within minutes.
There's no way they haven't already started cleaning up their mess.
She's gone.
You there?
Duffy, I got to go.
I'll leave my phone on.
Shit.
You get called in like this a lot?
No.
McCabe normally comes to my house and walks in and out like it's his.
You think we're gonna walk in and out today?
Or just in?
I don't know.
Ooh. Here we go.
How's the face?
You ready to meet the boss?
Yes.
I've been waiting for this moment for some time now.