King Sacrifice

It's the journal I sent you,

and it's completely blank.

You know what they say. Write what you know.

Poppy, my wonderful daughter.

I'm so sorry. I hate to vanish, again.

Target not here.

- Find him. - I know where he'll go.

Lying kept me alive, but it became a part of me.

You're hunting a predator. Miss the kill shot, it comes for you.

Mr. Ogletree, we're detaining you for

conspiring to gather and deliver national defense information.

I'm not running

from the truth now.

Shut the fuck up!

We find a weak link who puts us next to Viking.

You want me to mule a fucking bomb to a mass murderer?

I'm going to Antwerp, put him straight.

The Agency is cleaning house.

We keep all operational details tight.

You let Martian vanish with

a black passport and a kilo of explosives?

I have one shot to prove myself.

This is how I clean it up.

This is how I get back to the truth.

About fucking time.

Would sorry help?

What are you doing?

I wanted you to see this.

They took them away

as a precaution against my suicide.

Mm.

For that same reason,

I was allowed only two pieces of toilet paper

with which to wipe my ass.

Yeah, I heard three pieces is lethal.

Come on, Henry.

This is not the first night

you've spent in the Graybar Hotel.

It is for treason.

I had to make a call.

I was in a difficult position.

Oh, you were in a difficult position?

Were you entrusted with shoelaces?

It remains for me to say,

fuck you. I quit.

- Fuck off. - Yeah, fucking watch me.

Henry. Okay, you want me to say it? I'll say it. I need you.

Uh... Langley is in London.

I got this-this bunch of shit in Martian's confession,

I don't even fucking understand it.

- Confession? - Yes. Right here.

All 60 pages of it.

No. No, no, no. Not if you've quit.

Most of this is to his daughter, but you feature.

He actually does apologize to you.

What, "Sorry for installing a Chinese asset

at the top of British intelligence?"

No.

This is his apology for that.

- Holy shit. - Guess what?

We don't think it was suicide.

What do we tell the Brits?

Same as usual. Nothing.

I accept your un-resignation.

I don't know where he is.

I don't even know who he is.

Surely he said something to you.

You were the last person he saw before he flew the coop.

Even if I knew everything you wanted to know,

I still wouldn't tell you.

Well...

Then tell me how it felt.

How it felt?

How what felt?

How...

it felt.

You must be very strong to have survived that.

You are not the good guys, even if you think you are.

You don't rescue people in trouble.

You use people in trouble, people who can help you.

Which means that someone somewhere

in this hall of mirrors thinks I'm important,

or could be.

Well, guess what? They're right.

So...

you want to learn something?

Ask about me.

Ask me what I'm going to do,

because all the rest is lies,

and that's what you are good at.

- Excuse me, sir? - He's fine.

Welcome back, sir.

You're back. It's good to see you.

Where the hell is everybody?

I don't believe Martian would drop everything

in the middle of a mission and vanish.

What's belief have to do with it? It's fact. He's gone.

We need to find him and bring him in.

You're telling us to hunt one of our own.

Why? Has he gone rogue?

What he's running from is need-to-know.

Your job is to find out where he's going.

We have a closing window.

Right now, he's making tracks we can follow.

- We hope. - Damn right, we hope.

This trail goes cold, it goes cold forever.

Thanks.

Owen, you're late.

Sorry, sir. Bit slower than I used to be.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Come, sit.

- Thanks. - You can catch up on the fly.

- Thanks. - All right,

someone hit me with the status of Martian's ongoing ops.

Uh, Viking is T-minus 24 hours.

And an amber light on Nils Jansen

who is in play as a flight risk.

Why's he a risk?

He panicked about his trip to Africa,

so we locked him down in his apartment in Antwerp.

If Jansen's on ice,

he needs to be straightened out and on that plane

or this goes south today.

What is this, middle school? Shoot.

Well, I mean, I don't know what the fuck is going on here, but

why would you lock him in his apartment?

Don't we have three safe houses and an embassy

full of interrogation rooms? Why not just bring him in?

- Whose call was that? - Martian's.

Am I missing something?

Uh, where is Martian? Shouldn't he be here?

Shh...

It's okay.

I'm gonna need your phone and your passport.

I'm gonna take my hand away.

If you make a sound, I'm gonna stick you.

Why are you taking my stuff?

Give me that pinky ring.

These have sentimental values.

More than your life?

No, he's here.

No, nothing.

Yeah.

It's all good.

What the fuck, dude? You're going instead of me?

You want to go on a suicide mission, be my guest.

No, no, it's okay.

Martian should've been in the Cold War.

He's a born manipulator.

He'll charm you and give you nothing.

At what point did you know of his intentions?

Never. Even when you know you know,

he makes you doubt what you know you know.

And you admire that. You almost envy it?

Not almost.

It's magic.

I can lead people,

but if you look for the trail, tricks, technique, it is there.

Martian casts no shadow.

How did he persuade you not to trust

your instincts about him?

I told you, it's magic.

At what point did you suspect he was selling U.S. intelligence?

I knew as soon as Samia Zahir was released,

and I refused to believe it.

I couldn't.

I still can't.

See?

Yes?

Don't "yes" me. I want in the room.

You want to fight this?

We can go to Henry, who I just got out of a prison cell.

Can I get a moment?

The British and Spanish will return

Arash Namdar to the Iranians.

Who's he?

Secret accountant of the Quds Force.

He's arranged for money to flow to Hezbollah and Hamas

and other Iranian-backed operations outside the country.

The British arrested him six months ago.

So a trade? Him for Gremlin?

We're working logistics with Madrid.

It'll take a day or so to iron out details,

but signs are positive.

So Namdar goes home. Who does that piss off?

He's a hero of the revolution.

Yeah, but whose hero?

Everything in Iran is nine-dimensional chess.

You move the wrong piece at the wrong time,

it gets taken, and you don't even know who took it.

Nils's phone's on the move.