All the Devil's Men

Fucking CIA...

thinks it can kill anyone, anywhere.

When are you coming home daddy?

I'll be coming home very soon, my darling.

Very soon.

If you have my money, I have your Judas.

His name is Oleg.

Yes, my friend, the CIA.

We've been breached.

Do something!

Relax. The car is bulletproof.

Good job.

You should've told me you were running a secondary op.

The risk was worth it.

Besides, I knew you could handle it.

Like I know you can handle a follow-up action.

I thought ExSo was cutting me loose.

They are, but FullSpec have agreed to bond you out.

Come on.

We just received actionable intel

that a tier-one target is in London.

We want him off the table.

Leigh said this flight would be full of fucking reprobates

and degenerates, but I didn't believe her

until I saw your sorry ass.

- How the fuck are you, Jackie? - Jesus. Mike.

What the hell are you doing here? I thought you retired.

Retire? Shit. I can't retire. I've got three ex-wives.

Anyway. You look like shit, but you know that.

Still freebasing go-pills?

If you guys are done bonding, we're on a clock.

Intel says we have exactly twelve hours to hit the target.

I work alone. You know that.

- No offense, old man. - Yeah, okay.

Look. This is not some third-rate Haji we're going after, OK?

This is a bad guy. Top of the President's kill list.

Brennan will be point, but it's my op.

Collins, I worked my ass off to get you cleared.

Why's that? EXSo afraid they got another nut-job on their hands?

You know. Just...

This is a FullSpec op.

Oh...

That other morally considerate employer.

I hear they got their plausible deniability sewn up

tighter than a camel's asshole.

If you don't want to go home, London is what I got.

I need you.

Prepare to take off.

Be a team player.

I got your back, Mike. Always.

Yo!

Are you people deaf?

Pilot said sit down, strap in already.

I'm trying to scalp this motherfucker by tonight.

Jackie Collins, Pete Samuelson.

Pete, Jackie.

Pete and I did Libya together.

He was a prick then. He's a prick now.

But he's a damn fine operator.

Well, the old man's wrong. I'm even better than that.

I'm fact, I'm the best.

Are you fucking kidding me?

What the hell is Collins doing here?

What are you talking about?

What am I talking about? Jesus Christ, Leigh.

I'm talking about a messed-up war junkie who won't go home,

because you people won't let him.

I need Collins in this fight.

And so do you, Brennan. I thought you were friends.

No, we are friends, and as his friend, I'm asking you.

Do the guy a solid. Cut him loose. Send him home.

His wife just gave birth to a kid

he hasn't even laid eyes on, for Christ's sake.

We've all made sacrifices. He can handle it.

Sure, 'til he blows up in your face,

and then, that shit's on you, honey.

Uh-oh.

Where's the first half of my money?

Check it again.

A million fucking bucks, just like that.

I love Terror Tuesdays.

No more Terror Tuesdays.

Now it's terror all day, every day.

But screw up, and you get nothing but a Title Fifty disavow.

Oh, I haven't missed a shot my whole life.

And landing in some prison cell is not in my game plan.

So, then, who's the lucky son of a bitch

who tops the President's kill list?

Terry McKnight.

He was a deep cover operative, based in Pakistan.

He became a Muslim to better understand his enemy.

Or so he claimed.

Then the ISI dug their claws into him.

Turned him.

For three years, he fed them our intel.

They gave that intel to the Taliban.

Got a lot of our guys killed.

Haji hunter by day,

personal crusader by night, shit.

We're never gonna win this war.

What about the man's due process?

He gave up his rights as an American

when he became a terrorist.

Fuck his due process.

Oh, um, I'm sorry, did I just...

interrupt?

It's a good story, spook. It is.

But I heard something different.

I heard you guys fucked him

when his cover was blown.

Straight up disavow.

Are you done?

McKnight's there to do a deal with a group of Russian ex-FSB officers.

What the deal's for, we don't know,

but we know he's working with this man, Farooq Hassan.

Hassan's a Syrian national. He moves intel, guns, people,

but he's not ideological. He's strictly about the money.

He's not the only one.

Private sector intelligence provides him legitimate cover.

These are his known associates.

This is where you start.

Wait.

Go back one.

There.

Tony Deighton.

So, kill the suspense, already.

Saved his ass in Afghanistan a couple of years ago.

- That was good of you. - Yeah, he thought so, too.

IED almost blew him in half.

Look, this guy's a buddy of yours,

and it turns out he's a bad guy,

maybe you should sit this one out there, Jackie boy.

We were tight back then.

He's my brother.

Like you, Mike.

He's a good operator.

No way he's involved in this shit.

You wanted to see me boss?

You have family, Oleg?

Yes, wife, two sons.

Family is what matters most.

I had a family once...

...in another life.

Hard to believe now.

But greed.

Greed is bad for business.

Mr. McKnight...

You should've taken the CIA's advice

and used encryption.

Please.

I never meet... CIA, I just...

- do it through phone... - Don't you beg.

Now, give me a name.

Before 20 men enter your house and...

violate your children.

While your wife drowns in their semen.

Leigh.

Leigh.

Please!

It's clean.

Deighton, how you doing, man? It's Jack Collins.

Yeah, me too, brother. Me too.

Look, I need to meet. I'm on the clock and I need a favor.

I appreciate it. All right, I'll see you there.

So, Jackie, how's the family?

When's the last time you were Stateside?

Hey, Mike,

go fuck yourself, OK?

Look,

You're gonna pledge your allegiance to that girl?

To the CIA, to a system that doesn't give a rat's dick about you?

Fuck loyalty.

Go home, Jack.

Meet your kid. Huh?

Be a father.

You're father of the year now, Mike?

Hell no. I'm a three-time loser

who should've been home for his kids.

Instead, I've gotta keep taking out bad guys,

so I don't drown in goddamn alimony.

Fucking witches.

There's my favorite fucking cowboy!

Deighton, you son of a bitch.

- How you doing, man? - You're fucking looking at it, mate. Never better. You?

Good, man. I'm good. Yeah.

This is Mike Brennan and Pete Samuelson.

Tony Deighton.

- Nice to meet you, man. - Nice to meet you.

I thought you said this guy was the shit.

He don't look like much.

You don't look like much.

This prick Delta?

Come on, grab a seat.

Alan.

So... the CIA still reckons it can win the war on terror

by outsourcing it to fucking cowboys?

I call that desperation.

It's pretty fucking tragic.

But you look like you do OK for yourself.

I do all right.