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Watch your backs!
When Mr Westicott fired you, did he tell you why?
He said his wife is afraid of me.
Did you ever speak to his wife?
I praise her.
I tell her she has hips. Good for many children.
Large, like my best sheep.
You told her this?
Just tell him to not speak to his boss's wife.
I'll straighten this out with Mr Westicott and you can go to work tomorrow.
My cousin, he hates his new neighbours. Egyptians. My age, mostly.
Nine blokes in one flat. Nine.
- Well, he should talk to his landlord. - Yo, it's a council estate, innit?
Housing office then.
Yo. He already did that and they sent Immigration round.
And?
And nothing. They were out that day.
Ooh, la la. I've never been to Paris before. Beautiful, no?
- Yeah, it is. Will you put that down, please? - Relax. I'm not gonna break it.
Okay.
- Thank you. - You're welcome.
Your minicab licence, um, expires in a week.
I need you to fill in this form for me.
- Your tea is cold. - Sorry I'm late.
You get my email?
Nice to see you too, Alice.
How are the salt mines treating you?
My email, Emily.
MI5 raided the flat an hour ago.
- And? - Empty.
Nine Egyptian nationals cleared out this morning.
Oh, Jesus Christ.
We have a good lead, though.
- Should have them in custody shortly. - Shortly?
- If these guys are who I think they are... - But we don't know that yet, do we?
But, as I said, the lead is solid.
- You'll call me? - Of course.
- Soon as you have them. - I promise.
Hello, can I get...
Henry, come.
Emily?
CIA intel is always welcome, Alice,
and your cover is brilliant.
But those Egyptians...
- They're students. - Students? Really?
Yes. Undergrads at UCL. The past three years.
Are you sure? They really fit the profile.
Complete background checks.
- They're absolutely clean. - Okay.
Well, thanks for looking into it.
Dogcatcher, Dogcatcher, engage now.
Copy that. We see him.
Shut up!
Stay down! Give me your hands.
Jim McAllister. We'd flown him in from Ramstein to interrogate a prisoner.
St Thomas' Hospital is saying heart attack.
Our own docs are en route, but...
He's dead, right?
Sir?
Are we expecting that to change between now and after lunch?
I'm asking because my wife
is sitting alone at Chez Francois on our anniversary.
Why was I called in?
The prisoner McAllister was supposed to unlock.
He's a courier for Imam Yazid Khaleel.
- Khaleel has prison time left. - He got a new lawyer.
Oh, how nice for him.
The Brits have inner-circle assets saying that he just gave a go order
for an attack on an American target in the UK.
And we believe the courier to be carrying it, sir.
American target?
All we have, sir.
- Who is the go order for? - David Mercer.
Mercer? Trust-fund jihadi of Bloomfield Hills.
He goes by his conversion name now. Mohammed al...
Fuck his conversion name. What is his connection with Khaleel?
The imam's his spiritual authority.
Mercer won't lift a finger without Khaleel's blessing.
Khaleel gives him credibility.
One more thing, sir. The ordered attack... It's thought to be biological.
Send a car for my wife and flowers.
And by flowers, I mean whatever it takes to keep me off the couch tonight.
Please, take a seat.
- Thank you. - Good evening.
Mr Lasch, please.
- Yes. Please, go through. - Thank you.
- Hello, Al.
So good to see you.
- You look great. - Thank you.
So the bus driver says, "Lady, I'm sorry,
"you cannot bring a live chicken on the bus."
So she apologises, snaps its neck and gets on.
I've told this story before, okay?
Just a few times.
- But it keeps getting better. - Mmm.
The whole feather thing, that was new.
Now you're picking on me.
What is that? New toy from Langley?
Dedicated sat feed of local intercepts.
Here.
- This is live? - They're beta testing 'em.
I want one.
Come on back to the field and I'll get you one.
I'm not ready for that.
- I lost my nose for it. - Bullshit.
You don't have the network you're used to.
Community embed posts in allied countries are dead zones.
See, you don't do good with boredom.
I can manage.
All right, look, I'm an asshole. But we need your skill sets.
We need you on the front line.
Last time I was there, 24 people died.
Not everything is that bridge in Paris, Alice.
- So how is your divorce coming along? - Okay.
All right, we're gonna change the subject.
Oh, people do that when they don't wanna talk about something.
It was not your fault.
I was your chief back then. I know.
It was not my fault but...
If you want me to make peace with losing people...
I don't. I want you to make peace with those you saved.
No, it was me. I lost them, Eric. Not Agency. Not Paris station. It was me.
I was too slow and too late and you're crazy to trust me with that again.
I've got 30 years in the craft, so do me a favour...
Don't ask me to cover what you can't bear to face.
- I wasn't doing that. - Yes, you were.
It's understandable. Nobody wants to face that pain again.
Let the past go.
Or it's gonna get in the way when it counts.
Good night.
Marburg virus is a Category A bio-threat threat agent
that may just trump Ebola for the nightmare trophy.
Intercepts are flagging Russia as the most likely source.
The Soviets produced a weaponised strain in the '80s called Variant K.
It's on every jihadi's wish list.
And the courier?
We snatched him last night. We have him waiting.
It's not what he knows, sir. It's that Mercer won't have met him yet.
The imam never uses the same courier twice.
So if we crack the courier for any recognition measures needed for the meet,
switch him out with one of our guys,
we can change the message to whatever we want.
And if Mercer buys it, he can shut him down.
It was all going beautifully until our interrogator's ticker gave out.
Are you telling me we don't have another interrogator in the UK?
Our best people are in the sandbox.
There is another case officer with London station.
Alice Racine. But...
But what? Call her.
Actually, sir, she's had a rocky couple of years.
Who's her COS?
I am, sir.
Background?
Racine was a teen runaway.
European born, her mother brought her to the States when she was 12.
A year later, Child Protective Services found her on the street.
Multiple foster homes. Six different schools.
She broke her teacher's arm when she was 15.
Suspected he was touching her classmates.
- He was. - Mmm. Born a bloodhound.
The cops on her case got her into the Police Athletic League.
Three years later, she had a full athletic scholarship to Northwestern.
Now we recruited her because she
scored off the charts on the Kolbe Index and Special Activities needed interrogators.
What's the rocky part?
The mastermind of the 2012 bridge bombing was her interrogation.
She broke him, too late to stop it.
The death toll was a fraction of the 2015 attacks but she took it hard.
She tried to quit after that, but her chief at the time
talked both her and the agency into a transfer
to a cover job in East London in a jihad-prominent community.
Which is why we didn't consider her.
It's been two years since she's been in the booth,
and just wasn't enough time to knock the rust off.
But given the circumstances, do you have a better idea?
Anyone?
Alice?
Frank Sutter, London station.
Some good reading in there.
Page 12.
The courier's Moroccan.
Some trips to Frankfurt in 2014 for terror training.
The Germans picked him up once, but they considered him low value and let him go.
No English. Speaks tribal Moroccan Darija.
I got an interpreter for you.
He won't know the meet site until Mercer pings him,
so focus on getting the recognition protocol.
That's what we're counting on from you.
Problem?
You do know my history, right?
If you want me to say you were HQ's first choice...
I don't.
That's the point, I don't wanna be anyone's choice.
Except that's not how it works, is it?
You're being called up.
Now your reluctance is noted, but this is priority red.
And the chief of Europe division has made his call.
It's not a request.
All right.
Can you make this thicker?
The kind of file that says that the US Government
has been on your ass since you were a foetus.
Of course. Get on that.
And take the camera out.
- Are you sure? - Yeah.
It's a trust deterrent.
Hello, Lateef. I'm Alice.
English?
Alarabiyah?
Deutsch?
How about your native Darija?
Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop. I don't understand. I don't understand.
I'll be back with an interpreter.
You just responded to something I said in English.
Twice.
Just get on with it.
You can send your interpreter home.
- He's British born. - Oh.
Can I have the key for his cuffs, please?
What do your parents think of you?
I don't know. Why don't you ask them?
My mum died and my dad pissed off when I was young.
What were you doing in Frankfurt?
- I was working for a charity. - Hmm.
Servants of God.
Something wrong with the charities in the UK?
No. God called me there.
- Mmm. - I found a pure Muslim life there.
Lateef...
...you still haven't asked me why you're here.
Yeah, tell me.
When prisoners don't ask, it's because they already know.
He's just sitting in there, on his own.
Time is not our friend right now. Why don't you use it?
I am using it.
So this is what a pure Muslim life looks like?
No. This is not Islam. I would never do this.
The news said that the engine caught fire.
That made you angry, didn't it?
- No. - Not getting the credit.
Wh... why would I be angry? No!
Have you ever met this man?
- No. - No?
No.
He's an imam. So what?
He was arrested yesterday.
He's been charged with plotting the Sea Empress attack.
Three members of his mosque carried it out.
- What's that gotta do with me? - You tell me.
Fine, nothing.
You should know that we have two other members of his mosque in custody.
And like you, they learned bombmaking in Frankfurt.
Bombmaking? No. Not like me.
And like you, they have a long, dark plane ride in their future.
That's their business. It's up to them.
I don't know these people you're talking about.
Okay. Okay, listen. I can explain these.
I know what you're thinking. I can prove this.
- Relax. Relax. We already know. - Please.
Your imam found out that Scotland Yard had tied him to the Sea Empress
- and he was sending you away. - No, no, that's not what this is.
Just like he was sending your two friends away.
No, I'm supposed to deliver a message for him. That's all.
- Good soldiers, all of you... - No.
...but disposable as Kleenex for a man like Khaleel.
No, no, no. You're not listening to me!
I'm just supposed to deliver a message for him, that's all!
Okay, listen. Wait, I've... I've got proof.
I can prove it.
What proof?
Now...
If you talk to me, I can guarantee your safety.
What proof?
I always go to the mosque with my friend every Friday.
And his uncle owns a Moroccan cafe.
He said one day, "Oh, come along..."
- This quote, it's a fatwa. - Mmm-hmm.
Sort of like a spoken rule.
But a fatwa can be about anything, not just jihad.
Uh-huh. And this one by Ali is all Lateef needs
to verify his identity to Mercer?
Mmm-hmm. Plus the collection it came from.
What do you mean, collection?
Well, many authors recorded Ali's words, in different collections.
Which collection matters, especially to an imam.
Well, I don't see that here.
It's a quite famous one. I'll write it down for you.
Did he mention the meet?
He hasn't got it yet. He'll get a text.
Would you excuse me for a second?
Important?
Just my personal life.
Alice, Ed Romley.
Hey, sir, this is not a secure line.
And under any other circumstances, I wouldn't be using it.
But we've been trying to reach you for hours.
We need you for an emergency assignment in London.
We've got a prisoner waiting.
Well, I'm already on it.
London station brought me in.
What the hell are you talking about?
We haven't informed London station.
Sir...
Does your prisoner happen to be
a 19-year-old British national of Moroccan descent?
Yes.
What the fuck is going on?
I'll call you back.
Alice?
We were talking about fatwa collections.
About which one David Mercer is expecting.
Can you write it down for me, please?
Sure.
Except, now, I'm wondering about something.
Wondering what?
That the kid gave it up too easily.
They are trained to bait us.
You think that's what he's doing?
I just think I should, um...
Run his story again and see if I can produce any cracks.
Unless you prefer they turn up at your meet with Mercer.
I'd prefer for you to hurry.
We're on a serious clock here.
I do understand that, sir.
Lateef, I have a few more questions about Frankfurt.
Are you serious? You said we was done!
You promised me!
I want you to take a look at this photo.
I've seen this on the TV. It's just a trick.
Lateef, I need you to work with me.
Look at this picture.
Who's this man standing next to you, Lateef?
Anwar Hammersmith
I know him from school.
What happened? Where did he go?
Jesus Christ.
He kicked me. He went out the window!
He's fucking gone?
Come out.
Get behind me.
Open the door.
Stay behind me!
- I've been shot! - To the stairs!
My leg!
Come on.
Come on, faster.
- You said I'd be safe. - Come on.
Don't do that, Al.
I think I've unlocked a source for a terrorist.
What?
I gave critical intel to a stranger.
He played me, Eric.
He had today's control code. Today's encryption key.
Whoa, whoa, wait, just slow down a second. Who?
Frank Sutter.
At least that's what he called himself.
I thought he was with London station. He asked me to interrogate a prisoner
who was carrying a message from Imam Khaleel to David Mercer.
I was asked to acquire their recognition protocol, which I did.
And?
Right after I broke him,
- I get a call from headquarters... - Shh. Sit down.
...asking me to do exactly the same job.
There's no Frank Sutter in London station.
Let's... let's take care of this first.
- Who is this guy, Sutter? - I have no idea.
And why did he hijack a CIA interrogation?
For... for the protocol.
Whoever has it can speak for the imam. And change the message.
Sir...
...does your prisoner happen to be a 19-year-old
British national of Moroccan descent?
Yes. What the fuck is going on?
I'll call you back.
- Ed? - No further contact.
How did she get to our prisoner?
Our London unit's running that down.
They've traced the van.
Secure perimeter.
All guardians down.
VIP missing. Clean work. This was contracted.
Our guys must have been hit straight after they snatched the courier. He's gone.
So, Sutter doesn't know the meet location.
He's only got part of the protocol.
Thank God I caught on before I gave him everything.
What's he missing?
Enough. Or if he meets with Mercer, he'll get blown.
Langley's gonna wanna bring you in, you know that.
- Langley's been breached. - Agreed.
That's why you can't stay here.
If there's inside involvement, they're gonna connect us.
Now you should change. Laura's still got some clothes in the closet.
Stay down. Come on, stay down.
Oh, my God.
- I'll carry you. - No, I can't move. I can't move.
105 Wildbriar.
- What? - 105 Wildbriar.
Apartment 32.
It's a flat I got for Laura when we separated.
There's a spare key in the hall above the extinguishers.
Go, she's not there. You need a safe house.
Go! Go!
The timer, the propellant and a micro fan.
The propellant here contains the virus.
The fan'll disperse it into a mist, too fine to see or feel.
A contained, crowded space is best.
Now I've set the timer to activate in...
...10 seconds.
Once they're infected, it'll take a while.
- If you wanna come back later, I can show... - I'll take your word for it.
Come on, get it.
- Sorry, mate. - Oh.
Come on, let's go.
Back inside.
- Move! - All right.
Keep calm. No one has to get hurt.
Let's not lose our heads.
I'll just pop the telly back over here, then, eh?
Not that you'd care, but I only picked this flat because your parking spot was empty.
You're robbing it?
Well, technically speaking, I haven't relieved relieved you of anything just yet, have I?
Sit down. Hands where I can see them.
- So you can call the police? - So you can not get shot.
That's always nice.
- There's nobody else here, love. - Get up.
- You just told me to sit down. - Stand up!
Yeah, standing.
Into the bedroom.
I like where this is going.
- What have you got in mind? - I'm gonna restrain you.
My kinda girl.
Put your rucksack on the bed.
Sit down, by the machine.
Lay down. Face the floor.
Hands behind your back.
There are other ways to get to know someone.
Jack Alcott.
And you are?
Seriously, has someone broken your heart recently?
'Cause not all men are alike.
Mmm.
May I have your control code, please?
Control code, zero, golf, Charlie, four, four, two.
Encryption key, alpha, November, alpha, nine.
I need to speak to my case officer, it's urgent.
I've got Alice Racine on line six.
About fucking time.
The watch officer traced the call.
Do we have an ETA on our grab team?
The Brits had people closer. We gave them the ball.
Alice, Bob Hunter, Euro division chief.
I'm here with Ed Romley.
Where are you, Alice?
On a landline, so let's presume we all know the answer to that question.
- What's your status? - In danger.
- Someone is hunting me. - Who?
Whoever had me interrogate your prisoner at the hotel.
- Were you successful? - Yes.
- And the prisoner? - Dead.
Eric Lasch too.
Repeat that, please.
Eric Lasch is dead.
After losing the kid at the hotel, I went to his apartment.
And we were hit there.
It's probably already been cleaned but you should secure it as soon as possible.
Sir...
Frank Sutter, the man who contacted me... They had yesterday's control codes.
You've been penetrated.
I know you need to vet what I just told you.
And until you've done that I'm to be considered a...
No one's thinking that way here, Alice.
No.
Really?
Alice?
Did they get her?
Find out.
Stay out of trouble, Jack.
Go, go, go, go!
Can I see some ID, please?
Guns on the table.
Easy with that.
Alpha five, target acquired.
I'm so gonna regret this.
How the hell could you miss her?
Do you really want to go there?
You ran an illegal op on my soil,
and when it all goes sideways, you come crying.
- Emily... - MI5's not your mother.
Yes, you're right. Do you know how I know that, Emily?
Because my mother could have handled the fucking grab!
Racine had help.
Who?
We're working on it.
Beautiful.
She's your stray, Bob.
And it would have been helpful if you'd brought us in sooner.
"Sooner" we couldn't reach her. "Sooner", we thought we controlled her sooner.
Oh, come on.
You actually think she's turned?
She called you.
I'm aware of that.
By the way, has it been ruled out?
- What? - Her breach theory?
We're working on it.
Beautiful.
Bye bye.
Morning, love.
Why'd you help me?
I wasn't gonna find any jewellery and that TV was crap.
I heard everything.
Your little phone call. Bedside phone.
You heard?
Everything. Sounds like there's some serious shit about to go down.
I couldn't just leave you there, could I?
Well, most people would have.
Most people didn't lose their best mate in the 7/7 Tube bombing.
I'm sorry.
Yeah, well, what're you gonna do?
- So, who trained you? - I play video games.
Marines. Four tours. Iraq.
Well, those were SCO19s that you messed with,
which means that our governments are already talking to each other.
Oh, really? About what?
It's classified.
Didn't I just get you out of a whole heap of trouble?
You have my gratitude.
I'll trade your goodwill and appreciation
for what the fuck is going on in London that involves the CIA,
dead prisoners and a terror strike?
Goodbye, Jack.
Bad idea, shedding me. I heard too much.
I'm an unknown variable now.
Tactically, it's a no-brainer.
You really want me around.
I'm useful.
And I like trouble.
Goodbye.
You're saying the stakes aren't high enough?
Oh, they are high enough.
Well, then.
I can help you.
I've had my troubles since the war.
Clearly not so well-adjusted.
But I'm combat tested, and right now...
I'm thinking I'm the only friend you got.
- Go home, Jack. - I am home.
Where the fuck are you? Any idea?
- This is all of 'em? - It is, yes.
Sir. Sir.
The kills were top-tier.
Single shooter from 80 yards. The rounds were armour piercing.
- Lab in Bexley is running analysis. - What's wrong with our lab?
A pouch to DC delays us 12 hours, and if the point is to clear Alice,
then we can...
She was the last person to see the courier alive.
And she's actively evading a post-incident debrief.
Until that changes, clearing her is nowhere near the point.
Here we are. This all right?
- Thank you. - That's £12.50, please.
Hello, madame. Is Amjad home?
There's no Amjad here.
It's okay, Mum. It's okay.
- She's a friend from the centre. - Hey.
- How are you? - I'm good. You?
Yeah, good. Hey, sweetie.
Oh, wow. Look at you. You're so big now.
- How old are you? - Three.
Oh. No wonder you're so heavy.
- Where's your daddy? - He's playing football. Amjad!
- Hey! - There he is.
Sorry about my mum.
She's visiting from Bristol.
She's so paranoid, always thinking it's Immigration.
My brother got sent back last year.
Yeah, I know.
Who's that guy?
He's okay.
I heard that Egyptian thing turned out to be nothing.
Glad you told me though.
So what's the deal today?
Well...
So he has friends inside Khaleel's mosque.
He's handy.
Hoxton High Street. Some Moroccan restaurant.
The imam eats lunch there most days.
I love a tagine.
- Still time. - Get the bus? Tube?
The lady doesn't do public transport.
What? I gotta d...
One sec, let me just talk to them, yeah?
I'm going now.
I'll see you later, yeah.
Tuesday's American football game at Wembley is sold out.
And their many fans at home couldn't be more excited.
Many of them crossing the pond...
It's like rugby for hairdressers, mate.
I don't know about you,
but the last time I saw shoulder pads like that was on reruns of Dallas.
Now let's talk about the beautiful game we call "soccer".
Shut up, both of you. Faster, please.
- Knowles here. - Emily, it's Alice.
Alice? Do you know where I've been all day?
Whitehall, at the Cobra meeting.
- Guessing my name came up, huh? - More than once.
Well, don't believe everything you hear.
Oh, give me some credit.
Why do you think I'm calling you?
MI5's committing every available asset to this.
All conceivable soft targets are being assessed.
Well, there's no time for guessing. I'm chasing a lead and I need your help.
What do you have in mind?
The courier was waiting for a text with the meet location.
We need to find his phone.
Just the one, please.
This way. Please.
Am I all right here?
Round guy, short beard. Prayer cap.
If he comes out, watch which way he goes.
Watch which way he goes. Got it.
- Okay. - Yeah.
Hey, watch out, man.
Mr Al-Hussein?
Yes.
I'm Alice from the Gold Crescent Community Centre.
Have you by any chance seen Lateef el Hajjam recently?
I believe you know him from the mosque.
Lateef el Hajjam?
I'm sad to say that, um, some of his friends got into trouble with the police.
Vandalism. Graffiti.
And his name came up.
That's terrible.
We mentor troubled youth
and we often act as an advocate with the police in such matters.
And, um, Lateef's mother asked for our help.
- His mother, you say? - That's right.
His mother spoke to you?
Yeah, just now.
It's quite urgent that I find her son.
- Will you excuse me a second? - Sure.
Thank you.
Hey, it's me. We're on.
Right.
Eight outgoing calls from grid Q34.
Seven of them listed. One pay-as-you-go.
That's him. Find the phone he's calling.
Triangulating.
London. Grid Q22.
Another no-contract phone.
Stationary. Hackney.
Either a car park or a car pound.
Can I help you?
- Yeah, I'm looking for the gents. - Behind you.
Silly me. I'm a head-banger.
Now behave yourselves, all right?
Both of you.
CIA.
This courier?
Maybe he's not mine.
Lateef el Hajjam. He carried your instructions for David Mercer.
Do you know an American named Sutter?
No.
He kidnapped Lateef.
And he tricked me into getting him the information he needed to gain Mercer's trust.
A fatwa by Ali.
- Sutter, was it? - Mmm-hmm.
Did he ask you to get my instructions for Mercer?
No. He just asked for the protocol.
- He has his own messenger? - Apparently, yes.
What was yours?
"My dearest brother in Islam,
"look to the fatwa for guidance.
"In Ali's wisdom, my wishes are clear."
You remember it, don't you? The fatwa?
"A person has no faith if he has no patience."
What's that?
- A stand-down order? - Uh-huh.
You did not order an attack?
You're shocked.
- You're not known for your restraint. - Neither is America.
Not when threatened, no.
Ah, so you know the feeling?
Here's a hypothetical.
Say an imam
is sickened by what's happening to his religion.
Group after group hijacking it, each more savage than the next.
But, say, as a younger man, his rage at the West consumed him.
And for years, he was lost in the hate.
But... He's done with that now?
This made-up imam of yours?
And, thus, his dilemma.
If he walks away now, his influence ends.
Mass killers seek this man's counsel.
And, with a word, he stops them.
But not this time.
- Then next time. - I'm not here for the next time.
What's the target?
- I don't know. Each link is separate. - But the meet?
At least you must know the meet?
That rule is never broken, Alice.
Mercer, when he's ready, will contact my messenger.
And we are all in God's hands then.
I like to think we have a say.
Where the hell is he?
Hello.
Hey, it's me. Where are you?
The other side of the park. It's the tallest building.
I followed your man here.
- Morning, ma'am. This way. - Hiya.
The moped was found abandoned in a tunnel two nights ago.
I didn't tell you to follow him.
You didn't tell me not to. Flat 1906.
- What? - You stay here. And keep watch.
You heard the lady.
You're welcome.
Any of you got a spare cigarette? Got a spare one?
- Yeah, 'course, bruv. - Safe.
Emily?
Turn around, Alice, we've got it.
- Come again? - We found the phone.
The courier's been pinged. A coded sequence was sent through.
We have the meet site.
Six o'clock. Brent Cross boathouse.
Well done, Alice.
- So we're ditching this guy, then? - We don't need him now.
The meet is on. About three hours. A boathouse in Brent Cross.
- That's big news, right? - Yeah
I gotta say, this beats a sandstorm in Helmand province, hands down.
Helmand province? That's in Afghanistan?
Hmm?
You said you served in Iraq.
Oh, I was on the ground in both wars. I forget to mention it.
Hmm.
Soldiers don't forget their deployments.
Who are you?
You're joking, right?
Jack Alcott.
40 Commando Royal Marines, Helmand Task Force.
We forced a hardpoint for three straight days in Operation Musa Qala.
To you, I'm just another wrong'un.
The nine JSOC operators that owe me their lives...
Well, they might disagree.
Happy?
What's next?
Next...
We part company.
Alice...
I am telling the truth.
You're selling the truth. Face the wall.
Get back inside!
About three hours. A boathouse in Brent Cross.
Come on.
Up we go. Up we go.
All right, darling. All right.
Helmand fucking Province.
Always comes down to tradecraft, doesn't it?
- Beware of the short-notice gigs. - You too.
No kidding.
Shame it had to be you, really.
- Why? - 'Cause I like you.
- Quite like to have had your back. - It's never too late.
To what? Run away together?
Let you put a bullet in my back?
No. Quick recce and scoot. In and out, that's the job.
- Mercer's recognition protocol? - There you go.
It'll go easy on us both if you give it to me now.
We both know it's never gonna happen.
Well, we both know what happens if you don't.
Come on.
Do you really think I wanna bleed you out in the car park? 'Cause I don't.
But I will.
Lovely dogs. What are they? Rottweilers?
Motherfucker!
Well played.
Brought your fucking A-game, eh?
You're not gonna make this easy, are you?
I am definitely earning my keep today.
Give me the fucking protocol, Alice!
Oh, what a fucking shame. In a different world...
In a parallel fucking universe, it doesn't come to this.
But we live in this one.
Fuck you!
Cop a bit of this!
Knowles?
- Emily. - Dr Adam Roizman, Public Health.
We spoke on the phone.
We were told Five's chasing a threat and to loop you in on this.
Now the mother rang 999.
Frantic, as you can imagine.
Thanks to her we were able to isolate him quickly.
Oh, God.
He responded positive to Marburg.
Incubation was fast, so we're dealing with a mutation, probably.
Symptoms in adults, two to five days. And in children, even faster.
Now, if this is Mercer, and he got it from the Soviet stockpile
then it's a virus designed to be sturdy.
It will last between lab and host,
which puts in play our worst fear, aerosolised distribution.
Alice? Are you listening?
Five has no Arabic-speaking 18-year-olds on staff.
By the time we could scramble one together...
- He's a kid, Emily. - Exactly.
Khaleel's couriers are always kids.
It's a good plan, Alice. Mercer won't know he's ours.
He'll deliver the original stand-down message.
Mercer will pull the plug and we'll start making arrests.
He's had no training.
I recruited him.
- If I knew it'd come to this... - I know. But you didn't.
And it has.
Ah, this is sick.
I can't wait to tell my mates about this, and see the look on their faces.
- You can't. - Yeah, I know, I know, I know.
I'm just saying, this is like bad arse, isn't it?
Well, can somebody take my picture with them?
No.
What's that, a HK?
- Oh, my days, I thought you only used those... - Hey, hey, hey. Focus.
Let's run it again. I'm Mercer.
Good.
Good? That was perfect, man.
Look, this guy's mine, baby.
I got this. He's mine. I got this.
We'll have three watchers on you, with video feeds to the van.
- What's that? - It's an earpiece.
So you can hear us.
Okay?
Okay, gentlemen. We're going live in 30 minutes.
How's the feed to HQ?
- Fine. - Good.
- How are you doing out there, Amjad? - Cold.
- When's something happening? - Anytime now.
Yeah, you can just say you don't know.
Alice, can I have a word?
MI6 has a file on you, you know.
I got a peek at our Cobra meeting.
Something juicy?
Other than Paris, you mean?
The bridge bombing was tragic.
Not just because Algerian terrorists killed a lot of people that day.
If there's something you wanna tell me, Emily, just tell me.
I am telling you.
After the bombing, France's DGSI launched an inquiry.
A magistrate put the seal on it.
There were leaks that made it into MI6's report.
Leaks saying what?
Well, among other things, there was a discrepancy.
Between the time you broke the prisoner and the time the French police were alerted.
Do I have your attention?
Ninety minutes. More than enough time to stop the bombing.
Someone at the CIA wanted it to happen.
The French pressed Langley, but they were unresponsive.
Just as they were unresponsive when asked
if a CIA employee was among those killed on the bridge that day.
A whistleblower, it turns out.
With access to drone strike after-action reports.
He was about to reveal CIA's mathematical inadequacies.
- Make them public. - Civilian deaths?
The numbers were being slashed, routinely.
Hundreds of reports altered.
- Are you okay, Alice? - Yeah.
- Do you want to sit down? - No, I don't want to sit down!
I wanna know how good this intel is.
Six trusts its source.
I'm sorry.
I can only imagine the burden of those deaths,
but it was never yours to carry.
Prelim analysis is back.
The kidnappers used an A300 Win Mag round
fired from an AT308C sniper rifle with suppressor.
It's a speciality armament. Very few produced.
The manufacturer has an exclusive contract with Britain's intelligence services.
Are you saying that the shooter is English?
No. He's saying start calling their armouries now.
Punch in on the dock.
Watcher Two, go in on the dock times five.
Pan left then down.
There. You see that?
It's the electrical line.
Did your men sweep under the dock?
Oh, Jesus, Emily.
- That could be a det cord. - Alice!
Shit.
Watcher team, be advised, there is a friendly about to cross your perimeter.
I repeat, a friendly.
This is Commander MacPhee, MPS, London.
You wanted a manifest check of my armoury?
Er, yes, Commander. We were wondering if you had some information...
If I have any AT308 Charlie sniper rifles currently in the field?
Right. We have reason to believe that...
Just one.
Checked out and properly signed for by a 12-year veteran of the security service.
- MI5? - That's right. MI5.
Thank you, sir.
Watcher One, Eagle is not seeing you. Report.
Eagle, this is One. Checking my link.
Jesus. What just happened?
What's going on?
Watcher Two, this is Eagle. Check your link, please.
Shit.
Watcher team, this is Eagle. Report stat.
Watcher One, in position.
Watcher One, do you have eyes on Watchers Two and Three?
Affirmative. All's good here.
It's clear.
No device found.
Mercer is here. I'm going off radio.
- Yes. - Ed Romley.
Has a marksman named Wilson been assigned to your command?
- Why? - Because if he has,
you've been compromised.
Abort! Abort!
No, please, no.
I got it. Right. Sutter will meet you as arranged.
The Edgewater at 7:00. The riverboat restaurant.
Thank you, sir.
Come on. It's okay. You're okay.
Alice!
Ladies and gentlemen, please present your bags to be checked
on entry to the stadium.
You're late.
Mercer was late.
- He's been given the go order. - I know. But we got a problem.
This is wrong. I can't do it.
- I can't do it. - You must, my son.
God has willed it.
But children too?
They have done nothing wrong.
Their fathers reject God. And when they grow up, they will too.
- How do we know? - We have the imam's blessing.
Be strong, my son.
Start the timers.
This is wrong. I can't do it.
- I got this. - Whoa. I got somebody closer.
Start the timers, or you will answer to Allah for all eternity!
Please. Please. I can't. I just...
This is for your heavy work.
Only for the Moroccan kid.
We still owe you Racine.
Why is that?
Because they missed.
- Hey, Al, we was in here talking about you. - Shut up!
So you still owe him, hmm?
Here I am.
You piece of shit.
- Once the surprise wears off, Al... - You played me.
That will never wear off.
- Get up. - Or what?
Or your next death won't be a staged one.
Get up!
On your feet.
Tell me the target.
Don't insult me.
How did you know the imam was blocking terror strikes?
Because too many of his meetings had had benign outcomes.
- So you snatched his messenger? - And teed up your entrance.
It was a decent plan till things went sideways.
I'd been briefed, of course. Knew you'd escaped the hotel.
Knew I had incomplete information, so I improvised.
I'm getting too old for this shit.
- And I put someone on you. - Jack. He was good.
- I have an eye for talent. - Yeah. You mentored me.
I trained you in the country's interest.
I know about Paris.
- What... What about Paris? - Paris, you fuck!
Traitors...
Need to be taken out.
Traitors? You murdered 24 people.
An Algerian suicide bomber did.
Six were children!
He was a threat to national security!
He was a fellow CIA officer.
You ordered him to the bridge.
A target I acquired for you.
All this time you let me think...
Haven't I always said to you, Al, it wasn't your fault?
I'm so stupid.
That's why you chose me again.
No, no, you're a clutch player, Al.
And whenever it matters... You sink that three-pointer.
The target?
I said, don't insult me.
The fucking target, Eric!
What's going on?
- Who are you? - Take a walk.
Hey!
Oi! Stop!
American football in London.
We're an hour away from kick-off,
but this sell-out crowd is already pouring into the stadium for pre-game festivities.
The atmosphere is electric, Terry.
Could it be this American sport is finally catching on globally?
Even quite a few Yanks crossed the pond for it.
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to London.
Now put your hands together...
The timers are device-sensitive,
so you can only arm and disarm them from this.
Once armed, you've got five minutes.
- How are we looking now? - You tell me, sir.
The elevators are rigged.
I'll wire you your money.
Guess I'm getting a little slow in my old age.
I suppose that's loaded now?
Uh-huh.
Why are you doing this?
Math. Lives lost versus lives saved.
- That simple, huh? - Always.
Even if it takes going the extra distance.
How far is that?
Tell me how to stop it.
You can't. It's a timed detonation.
Attagirl.
How many dead?
Enough to get our attention.
Global viruses are the biggest threat to mankind
and Washington is asleep, Al.
It's an American affliction.
You know, they truck-bombed the World Trade Centre in '93,
but it takes 9/11 to make an impression.
Ebola hops across the Atlantic but we ignored that warning too.
Some kind of sick wake-up call?
No. I'd call it a stress test of America's bio defence.
Those American guests next door are gonna fly back to Oregon or to Oklahoma,
each one of them a ticking bomb.
And when they go off, Washington will appreciate its staggering lack of preparation.
And do what exactly?
Legalise what's needed for the next time.
Forced isolation of all contacts.
Quarantine camps and the troops to secure them.
Real-time access to private medical records.
You're talking about medical martial law.
I'm talking about keeping up with Mother Nature,
with her speed, with the tricks that she's learned over millions of years.
Run, sir!
How far, you ask?
As far as it takes to protect my country.
Officer Racine? For you.
- Sir. - Lasch's car pinged a traffic camera.
Our English friends looped us in.
- He had to be stopped. - Yeah.
So, um...
I suppose you're gonna bring me in now.
And I'd suppose you'd like an apology.
Here's an idea, let's get both and get to work. Mercer's gone to ground.
And I do not intend to let him stay there.
Do you?
- Sir, do you still want me to... - Answer the question, Alice.
Alice?
Yeah.
Um... He'll escape to Syria.
Probably through Eastern Europe. Network contacts will move him.
Our thinking as well.
I'll be in touch.
- Hey. - Hey.
We have time for a coffee. There's a pastry shop by the river.
Excellent strudel.
Nice to have you back, Alice.
Don't be a stranger.
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