The Brave

- To Jaz. - Oh, knock it off.

That was a hell of a shot, Jaz.

Yeah, you saved my ass.

Your ass is drunk.

- Mine isn't. - You're enabling.

I'm exiting the sausage party.

Hola.

Hi.

Hi.

What are we toasting?

Nothing.

Unless you'll join us.

Paloma.

Paloma.

Uh, perdón...

We need another uno más d...

That.

You know my name.

I don't know yours.

I'm Walter.

You're American?

Canadian. We're like American-lite.

To whatever you were toasting, Walter the Canadian.

And his friends.

Salud.

You all right?

Okay, that's our cue.

So, what do you do, Walter?

Um, I guess you could say I'm...

Like a professional problem solver.

My lucky day.

Really?

Do you have a problem I can solve?

I have an empty glass.

How's that a problem?

That's just an opportunity.

What are you, working on your lone-wolf look?

- Woof. - Solid.

I thought so.

All right, so...

Cepheus.

Andromeda.

Perseus.

Is that you or the whiskey talking?

Come on, when you were a kid

you never sat out, stared up at the stars?

I'm from New York City.

I didn't even know there were stars.

- Right. - And the only people

laying outside in my neighborhood

were waiting on chalk outlines.

Okay, so these five right here, right.

It's Cassiopeia.

Yeah, she was a vain queen,

never allowed the set below the surface of the ocean.

Apparently she pissed off Poseidon,

insulted some sea nymphs.

Vain queen.

What? Is that some kind of message?

Well, if the shoe fits.

Sorry. Cactus.

You're so beautiful.

So are you.

Hey.

I saw your tattoo.

Good morning to you too.

What kind of soldier are you?

I'm just a medic.

My mom was a nurse, and she didn't want me to enlist so...

That was our compromise.

But the tattoo is for Special Forces.

American, not Canadian.

I should get going.

Walter isn't your name, is it?

What kind of medic has a cover ID?

Who the hell are you?

The daughter of a spy with a problem.

And you solve problems.

Please.

My father's name is Ivan Sokolov.

He's here, guest lecturing at the University

where I am a grad student, but he leaves tomorrow.

He wants to defect.

I can't help you with that.

I mean, tell your dad to go see the consulate.

Another Russian spy visited your consulate.

They turned her down and she was killed two days later.

Please.

You must know someone who could help.

Back up.

What time did you meet this woman?

Roughly 3:00 at a local, um...

restaurant.

And when did she divulge this information?

Roughly 9:00.

Over breakfast?

You do realize that attractive women

seducing intelligence professionals

is the absolute oldest game in the book.

All right, what do we know?

All right, we've got Ivan Sokolov.

Professor, lecturer.

No oligarch cronies.

He's got no bank accounts

that don't match his salary.

The daughter claims he's a 30-year veteran

in the Russian intelligence community,

My problem is no one has them

on their radar as a spy,

not the CIA, not the NSA,

not MI6.

What about the daughter?

The daughter was born in Spain,

attended European boarding schools after her mom died.

Then she did University up in Madrid,

and she's now doing post-grad

down here in Seville.

Nothing to indicate that she's intelligence either.

Well, if this man were actually high-level veteran

of the SVR, his defection could be crucial

to our national security.

That's not what it feels like.

No, it feels like a set-up.

But whatever the case,

I want to know who's targeting my team.

Make contact. Don't get killed.

And try to keep McGuire's pants on.

Any girl.

You could have picked any girl in Spain.

Instead you pick the half-Russian spy daughter.

Technically, she picked me.

Corazon, what's wrong?

What was so important you wanted to meet?

This. Now don't turn around.

She's going to pat you down.

What is it?

They're here to help.

Paloma, what have you done?

Okay, we're gonna walk this way.

So.

We've been told you're a 30-year veteran

of Russian Intelligence

who would like to defect.

I'm a...

History lecturer.

Hm.

I guess we're done here.

Papa,

speak to them, please.

Look.

I get it.

You think that this could be a set-up.

Your people testing your loyalty.

If that were the case...

She would not be here.

If you're SVR, you know who I am.

If you don't, you're nowhere near the level of agent

our country would consider defecting.

Patricia Campbell.

Deputy Director, Defense Intelligence Agency.

Well, I'd like to say I recognize you too,

but I don't, which is a problem.

Defection is a political minefield

our government only walks into

for a high-level operative.

You had no idea that she did this, did you?

Why would your daughter risk outing you

to a foreign government

if you didn't put her up to it?

It's not like I have not thought about it,

discussed it with her, but...

why she seized upon this moment...

I can only guess it's because I have a cancer...

And she's trying to save my life.

Last I checked, there were oncologists in Russia.

Once a spy nears retirement,

they become a liability to the Kremlin.

Whereas your country would be incentivized

to save me at any cost.

It would be more convenient to mine if I...

succumb.

Like I said, we don't disappear people

we've never heard of.

Miss Campbell,

the fact that you don't know me

it's either proof I am negligible,

or proof I am the best.

But for me to believe that, you would need to prove

actionable intelligence that directly threatens

our national security.

And what guarantee

would I have by giving you

this would result in my defection?

None. But last I checked,

this was your last day in Spain.

What other choices do you have?

There is a contractor in your NSA,

spilling secrets to Moscow even as we speak.

Anybody could make that claim.

Her name is Megan James.