The Terminal List

No, Reece. Wait, wait. God, no.

Yeah.

Good.

All right.

I owe you one.

You look like shit.

I look like shit?

You don't like it?

You look like Patrick Swayze who lives in his van.

Mmm.

Hartley just landed up north, by the way.

Oh, her place on Orcas Island?

She just dumped CID, too.

- For who, Secret Service? - One more guess.

Talos.

Contract sale for a dozen men, maybe more.

She knows I'm coming.

Yeah, she does.

Does it matter?

Fuck no, it doesn't matter.

Hasn't mattered yet.

Mind if I record this?

Of course not. It's why you're here.

Yeah, to set the record straight.

You sound skeptical.

You used government resources to intercept my story.

I'm extremely skeptical.

Well, your story was wrong, Ms. Buranek.

Libelous, in fact.

I thought before you went to print

you ought to understand the true order of events

exactly as they occurred.

Everything in my story has been corroborated.

I have documents from Steve Horn, Admiral Pillar...

I'm not denying you have the right facts.

You're just drawing the wrong conclusions.

Now, in your story, you refer to a shell company,

Oberon Analytics, and you imply

that I am the unnamed beneficiary.

I'm not.

I never received a payout from Steve Horn or anyone else.

That's really hard to believe considering the fact

that every conspirator was paid in the cover-up.

Well, I didn't conspire, Ms. Buranek.

I acted in accordance with the authority vested in me

by the Pentagon.

You tested an unlicensed drug

on a whole platoon of Navy SEALs.

I initiated that test.

But I had no part in a cover-up,

and I definitely didn't do it for profit.

Then why?

Why test RD4895?

My policies paved the way for troop draw down

in Iraq and Afghanistan.

But for our special operators,

it meant longer deployments, more stress.

More trauma.

Which is an issue that I have

a moral and professional obligation to address.

But EUAs are used to solve acute problems,

to prevent imminent, catastrophic loss of life.

On average, between 17 and 22 veterans

commit suicide every day.

You add in active duty who take their own lives,

and it is the equivalent of two 9/11s every year.

And if that's not catastrophic loss,

I-I don't know what is.

And brain tumors in an entire platoon of Navy SEALs,

you consider that catastrophic?

Admiral Pillar sent me regular medical reports.

I had no reason to question their content.

So you're saying that you didn't know about the tumors?

Not until I saw you confronting Horn

on the news in San Francisco.

I mean, what you were yelling,

that meant nothing to the rest of the world, but for me,

it was a clarifying moment.

And when I realized that Horn and his cabal

engineered Operation Odin's Sword as a cover-up,

I initiated a DCIS investigation.

I was as upset about it as you are.

More so.

Madam Secretary?

I need to escort you to the SCIF.

You have a call with the Joint Chiefs.

Thank you.

We'll pick this up later.

In the meantime, you could set up shop in the east wing,

probably away from a window.

Or you're free to go and publish what I've given you,

because...

it's the truth.

Roadblocks and checkpoints?

L.A. always knows what's best.

You see the Howards ID'd Ben Edwards?

Yeah. We looked into him. BUD/S classmates.

Guy's CIA. Ground Branch.

He was a ghost till now.

Hartley cuts loose CID.

Decamps with Talos contractors

and lets Reece come after her with zero oversight.

She's gonna kill him.

Then tell whatever story she wants.

At least it finally ends, right?

Yeah, but not on our terms.

You know, when I left Quantico,

I could've written my own ticket.

I chose fugitives because I like the simplicity.

You don't have to prove motive or intent.

Just got to catch the son of a bitch

'cause he did what he did or else he wouldn't be running.

But I'm pretty sure the guy we've been chasing

is the victim,

and the people Reece is gunning for

- are guilty as sin. - Whoa.

What, are we rooting for Reece now, or...

No.

No, we get 'em all.

"We"?

We're on the bench, boss.

I made some calls.

We're not the only ones that want another shot.

You willing to fuck up a good career to see this through?

I cannot handle this music right now.

Oh, you can't handle it.

Okay.

All right.

There you go.

That's a good song.

Are my eyes deceiving me right now?

Was that a smile?

I mean, I vaguely remember you having one, but...

For a second there,

I thought both of us were losing our memory.

Who is it?

It's the reporter.

She's on the island.

Yeah. Of course she is.

SecDef's got her own fucking human shield now.

How long till we're feet wet?

Two, three hours.

Question is: Is there gonna be

a boat waiting for us when we get there?

He said it'll be there. It'll be there.

Hmm. I doubt that.

Raife Hastings.

I could live a thousand years and still wouldn't be able

to comprehend how you trust that motherfucker.

Well, I still trust you, don't I?

Ben.

Hmm?

Oh, fuck.

Shit.

We got three, four Chargers.

Couple Tahoes, couple bikes.

Seven...

eight cops.

We're not outrunning them here, man.

Hey, we're not fucking outgunning them, either.

We got no exit.

No cover.

I'm with you.

We'll get through.

We got to.

Morning, Officer.

What's good?

Driver's license, please.

Yeah, of course.

Oh, where is she? Oh.

One second here.

Where you headed this morning, Mr. Adams?

Off to, uh, Pacific City, sir.

Rumor has it there's a northern swell

with my name written all over it.

Mind if we take a look in back?

Routine check.

She's all yours.

Morning.

You live in the vehicle, sir?

Oh, time to time, ma'am.

Just chasing waves.

ID check.

California, India, eight, eight, eight,

four, two, one, zero.

Sir.

I know what this is.

I got that silver alert on my phone on the way up here.

I mean, who kidnaps an old lady like that?

I mean, is she gonna, what,

run around and knit sweaters for everyone or...

Mr. Adams, can we just proceed in silence?

Of course.

Seven, Lincoln, four, two.

Not getting a hit on that name. Can you confirm the ID?

Last name: Adams. First name: Shane.

Male, white.

Date of birth: 07-22-1984.

Seven, Lincoln, four, two.

ID check is clear. No wants and warrants for