The Blacklist

I don't know what to say.

Abbott has some of the most impressive

college acceptances in the country.

And this scholarship...

- it would cover full tuition? - Yes.

Along with room and board

and a stipend for books and supplies.

- So I'd live at the school? - We could visit anytime.

Yeah, we're only a few hours away.

Howie, your reaction is natural.

But I want you to know... our scholarship committee

combs through thousands of nomination letters

from across the country.

There were more than 2,200 submissions

for the Booth-Farnwell seat this year alone.

And the selection committee agreed that you, Howie,

you're the one who shows the most raw academic potential.

So if you want to become a member

of the Abbott Boarding School...

the scholarship's yours.

Thank you!

And remember to mark your calendars.

Parents weekend will be here before you know it.

Uh, Howie, shake the man's hand.

Sorry. Just... getting over a cold.

Well, I guess fourth time's the charm.

_

_

William Burroughs

said the same thing to me once.

I have two leads.

Tell me.

Ah! Ernesto's a concierge nurse.

Ernesto coordinates a burgeoning portfolio

of urine samples and blood draws.

As a bonus, he doesn't understand a lick of English,

so, please, speak freely.

One lead is still a work in progress.

The other one is solid.

What do you know about Norman Devane?

- He's an assassin. - He's a genius.

Well, he's an ingenious assassin.

Who hides murder behind illness.

Our friend in Paris made a series of payments to him

under the alias of Constance Drucker.

Paris was not your fault.

Devane can get us to her.

I spoke to Linda.

She says you haven't slept well since it all happened.

I underestimated her.

Well, we both did.

I should've known better.

Linda tells me your goddaughter's

getting married Saturday.

- You should go. - No.

Get drunk, dance the hora, and forget.

No. I-I am not leaving your side until this is done.

My friend.

_

_

Elizabeth. I have a case for you.

The man we're looking for is Norman Devane.

Oh, uh, that's, um...

Uh, sorry.

We all know Devane as the mastermind

behind the Libyan bioweapons program,

but Reddington says that represents

just a single line in a very lengthy résumé.

In Reddington's world, Devane is known as a killer for hire.

Simon Vestergaard was a shipping magnate

who died of liver cancer.

Senator Jessica Tandler died of drug-resistant pneumonia.

And Ronald Perchik was a federal judge who suffered

a deadly stroke two days after receiving a shingles vaccine.

Did Devane kill them, or did they die of natural causes?

Both. And according to Reddington,

Devane is in the U.S. and active.

Subject is a 14-year-old Caucasian male.

Type B-negative.

Full immunization record.

Hey, uh, you new?

You look new.

Mm-hmm. Howie Keller.

Howie? Cute. Uh, I'm Theo Wolf.

Sort of the, uh, unofficial Abbott welcoming party.

- So he kills sick people? - No, he kills people

by making them sick... by giving them cancer

or pneumonia or some other deadly disease.

He gives them cancer? Is that even possible?

Theoretically, if a healthy person is injected

with a high concentration of cancerous cells

and those cells got into his or her bone marrow,

they could, you know, catch leukemia.

- Catch it. Like a cold? - Yeah, just a super bad one.

The world believed these three died of natural causes,

but Reddington says they were murdered.

You don't get it. Uh, Brandon Durso

got a B-plus on his French presentation...

had a full-blown panic attack.

- Because he got a B? - A B plus.

My point is, you can't take all that

"truth and excellence" crap too seriously.

You got to be able to relax here.

And if you need any help with that, like some...

some weed or, uh...

Well, I don't do drugs.

Right. Says the new kid.

The woman who abducted Mr. Reddington in Paris...

- she's in business with Devane? - Apparently.

Did she hire him to kill Reddington or someone else?

He doesn't know.

So all we know is that an insidious assassin

is on the loose and we have no idea how to catch him.

The WMD Directorate oversaw

our response to the Libyan bioweapons.

If Devane is the mastermind, he might be on their radar.

Get there and see. At this point,

"might be" is the best we've got.

Elodie Radcliffe?

The woman whose husband is in a wheelchair?

Yes. Exactly. I'm the "other man" to...

I mean, I'm not yet, but... I want to be.

Which is worse.

I think it's great.

Great? I slept with a married woman.

I think it's great you slept with anyone.

I appreciate that she's taking care of her husband.

But she needs a life, too. And so do you.

Sorry to keep you waiting.

But Putin has a new nuke, and it turns out the Ayatollahs

have more heavy water than a surrogate carrying twins.

And now that I've kept you waiting, I can't help you.

Uh, we called ahead asking for any information

- your office had... - Norman Devane.

We know what he did, but not what he's doing.

After Libya, he went to Syria.

Helped Assad gas his own people. He was smart.

You name it... bacteria, virus, fungi... he could weaponize it.

You hit him with a drone strike outside Damascus.

We hit his lab. Never found him.

But you traced a payment he made

to an Anatole Kuragin. Who's he?

A Ukrainian hacker. And the payment was seven years ago.

We haven't heard from him since.

Do you know where we could find him?

He's in Havana. So, yes, I know where he is.

But you can't find him.

I know someone who can.

October 25th. 1:35 a.m.

Subject Howard Keller.

Administering pathogen A-21.

You're going to feel a little pinch.

Unbelievable.

Who the hell are you?

A friend told me you had a keen eye

for salt and pepper shakers.

She was wrong. You have an exquisite eye.

What do you want?

I once saw the most adorable little ceramic set

in a junk shop outside Topeka...

salt in a straw hat, pepper in a bowler,

both delicately balanced on a tiny green hat stand.

You're a collector.

Eh, an admirer.

Of all things precious.

Including information.

What kind of information?

Whatever you know about Norman Devane.

I don't know anything.

As a rule, I also admire loyalty.

But as I have pressing business with Mr. Devane,

I'm afraid you'll have to make an exception.

I don't make exceptions.

Perhaps these will change your mind.

Technically speaking, they're pepper casters.

Handcrafted American silver

from the workshop of Paul Revere.

Original or replica?

I'm surprised you would even ask.

I don't mean to press,

but I have a meeting in an hour with Raúl.

Raúl? You're meeting with Castro.

Yes, and unlike Fidel, he's a stickler for punctuality.

So. Devane.

He paid me to create backdoor access

to National Diagnostics Lab's server farm.

Why?

Is this a Frommer?

I knew a gaucho who had a pearl-handled one

in Patagonia, of all places.

- What was Devane looking for? - He swore by it.

Though he did say the trigger was a little sticky.

- Ooh! Ooh! - Raymond!

Oh, what the hell?

I barely touched the trigger!

It has a grip safety.

Well, he must have disabled it.

Oh! Ge...

Ohh, God!

Obviously, he set it to a hair trigger.