Think of your heart as the drums.
Your breathing as the bass.
Lisa! Front bedroom.
Hi.
I'm Keith.
Half an hour, 100. An hour, 150.
I just want to talk.
Let's get the money out of the way.
Yeah.
What's your name?
Lisa.
Is that your real name?
My name's Lisa.
Unless you want it to be something else.
- How about Stephanie? - Sure.
Stephanie Patrick?
Your parents, they were on the Northeastern Airlines flight
that crashed, into the Atlantic three years ago
with your sister and your brother.
I'm a journalist.
I'm writing an article.
Look, it wasn't an accident. There was a bomb onboard.
Have you got a cigarette?
No.
The bombmaker is here. He's in London.
He's free. He's walking the fucking streets.
I'll be back in a minute.
Up. Come on.
Get off me. Get off me!
I just want to talk, Stephanie.
- Go on. Get out, guv. - All right, I'm going!
You have one saved message.
Hello, sweetheart.
Uh, Dad left his wedding ring on the counter.
Can you grab it?
See you at the airport.
We love you.
What are you doing?
- Can you prove it? - Just get in.
So where are we going?
You can't have sex with me.
That's a relief.
Fuck you.
Can you move?
You want a drink?
I'm gonna get a beer.
Is that the man who killed my family?
That's Mohammed Reza.
He made the device.
- So he's a bombmaker. - And the security services,
they've got him under surveillance,
- but they won't bring him in. - They know who made the bomb
and they won't fucking bring him in?
No.
- Well, why not? - I'm not sure yet.
Maybe they're worried that if they do,
they might lose his network.
Maybe they're also more scared of who he might lead them to,
maybe one of our friends in the Middle East.
Ramifications of that could be huge.
Can you imagine if this stuff gets out?
That they've let a known bomber walk the streets of London?
That all of this, all this...
The plane crash was a cover-up?
The fallout would be catastrophic.
How do you know all this?
Research. And my source.
- And I'd prefer it... - And you know your source...
- ...if you don't smoke, please. - ...is telling the truth?
- How do you know? - I'd prefer if you didn't smoke.
How do you know your source is telling the truth?
He hasn't steered me wrong yet.
So this source, what does he need you for?
He can't do it himself.
He's part of the intelligence community.
Ex-MI6, but he's still an insider.
And he needs you to help him.
Is that right?
I can help you.
You should have left me alone.
But I didn't, did I?
'Cause I make such a good headline.
Some tragic, middle-class student.
I'm not that kind of journalist.
And I'm not here to sell papers.
You could have had any life you wanted.
This is the life I want.
Instead of being the top student at Oxford that you were?
I don't believe you.
Why did you come for me?
You're another victim.
You're just not dead yet.
Who was Martin Douglas?
The man in the seat meant for me.
He was an architect.
From Uniondale, New York.
- Was he married? - Yeah. Yeah, he was.
Did he have children?
Two.
B.
- Who else knows about all this? - No one.
Well, what about your source?
B.
Is that your source?
What's B stand for?
- Is B in Scotland? - Leave it.
What's his name?
What's B stand for?
It doesn't matter. You'll never find him.
I've got to go out. I've got a meeting. So...
That's if you need anything, and there's some keys.
I could disappear and take your keys.
And I could change the locks.
- That a new coat? - No.
What do you think, I'm a fucking Travelex, Lis?
What do you need, one or two?
And a gun.
You? A shooter?
Do me a fucking favor, Lis.
I'll just find someone else.
Can I help you?
The bag.
Where's my bag?
Stop!
Hey. I need to go that way.
Sorry, we're going into the town.
You'll just have to make your own way.
Get the fuck off me!
Get the...
Let go of me!
Stop!
Take off your coat.
Take off your coat!
Empty the pockets.
- How long since your last hit? - I'm not an addict.
- You're not an addict? - I'm a user.
- This for me? - No.
Huh? Is this for me?
You'd have to get very close.
Close enough to hit me with it.
It's not loaded.
Wait!
Stephanie. That's your name, isn't it?
- Hmm. - That's right.
Your parents would be proud.
Who else knows you're here?
- My parents are dead. - I know.
Who else knows you're here?
- No one. - I can't hear you.
No one.
No one knows. No one knows. No one knows I'm here.
No one knows.
Why did you come here, then?
- I'm gonna kill Reza. - Oh, God.
He must be terrified.
Help me find him.
You want to kill Mohammed Reza, you need to hire a professional.
I don't have any money.
Oh. Well, you have a job.
You're a prostitute, aren't you?
You're...
You're B. You're Proctor's source.
Sorry?
I could go to a newspaper
and they would...
They would want to hear about you and Proctor, I'm sure.
They'd want to hear about you for...
Was that the same Proctor you managed to get killed?
You might as well have shot him yourself.
Look at me.
Look at me!
You don't have a clue
about the scale of the mess you've caused.
No!
Where is Reza? Help me find him.
Why would I do that?
You spooked Reza with your cafeteria stunt.
Thanks to you, he's vanished.
- I need to kill him. - You can't even walk.
Then help me walk.
Laces.
Fuck you.
One second. One second.
Just one second, please.
I'm gonna say this now, so you never turn around to me
and say I didn't warn you.
You're not made for this.
Can we talk about Reza?
You're wasting your time.
Hey.
I can get you fit. I can teach you survival.
But in the end, you'll still be you.
It'll take longer than you want.
It'll hurt more than you think.
Can we talk about Reza?
Almost certainly, you won't succeed.
But if by some miracle you do succeed,
this is what you'll discover:
It's not worth it.
Come on.
Just stop it.
- Give me a minute! - Oy.
Don't treat me like I'm fucking worthless.
All right, take off your clothes.
- Fuck off. - Take off your clothes.
You won't run? You can swim. Swim home.
I can't... I can't swim. It's fucking freezing.
I mean it, I can't swim. I'll fucking drown.
Is there anything you can do?
You don't even know what I've been through.
Drugs. Prostitution. That's not a tragedy.
It's a cliche.
You're a cliche. You don't have what it takes.
So drown.
Or quit.
I don't care.
I've got nothing to lose, so fucking try me.
- What about your life? - What about it?
My family weren't supposed to be on that flight.
They changed their plans so I could join them.
But I didn't.
Not because I couldn't. Because I...
Because I didn't want to.
So they flew without me.
All right.
Reza is an errand boy.
The man who greenlit the attack on that plane
was a radical Islamist cleric
representing a hardline government.
And he paid U17 to get the job done.
- What's U17? - "Who," not "what."
U17 is code for an unidentified person.
CIA classification for a terrorist suspect
with no confirmed root name.
U17 could be anybody.
And what about the cleric? Where's he?
Cleric was killed in a drone strike two years ago.
Reza is our direct link to U17.
You want Reza, you're gonna want U17, too.
I want 'em all.
So this is Abdul Kaif.
He was an activist. A visionary.
I read about him at Proctor's.
Considered a massive threat because he was a reformer,
from a region terrified of reform.
They killed 239 people just to get to a man
they could have shot coming out of Harrods?
It was a message specifically addressed to reformers:
We can get you anywhere
and there is nothing we are not prepared to do.
Abdul died fighting intolerance
and extremism.
Everyone else was collateral damage.
Abdul's father, Suleman Kaif, suspected as much.
He wasn't afraid to find out who was behind this.
He financed Proctor.
Stop.
You got to get your breathing sorted.
Don't panic. Be calm. Be still.
You got to get your rhythm section under control,
like in music, remember?
Think of your heart as the drums.
- Yeah. - Your breathing as the bass.
You get those sorted and you're sorted.
Your heart as the drums.
Your breathing as the bass.
Put another one in. Never less than two.
Good.
- That's the easy part. - What's the hard part?
Living with it.
You're gonna have to be someone else.
Petra.
- Petra Reuter. - Who's that?
- She was an assassin. - Was?
- She's dead. - Well, how's that gonna work?
Her body was never recovered, so it's gonna work great.
Christ.
What the...
Fuck off.
You've fucked the car and now you're dead.
You're fucking crazy.
Nice job.
Enjoy the walk home!
Is this your wife?
Uh-huh.
- She's beautiful. - Yeah, she was.
When are you gonna teach me to fight?
We should probably go over that, no?
Find something sharp. Go for ears, eyes.
If they've got balls, go for those.
That's it?
We need to concentrate on the abilities that you have.
Like languages.
This because I'm a woman?
There are plenty of women out there just as good as men.
So, make me one of them.
- It would take too long. - How long?
How long?
It's been months.
I said, how long?
Your menopause would be a distant memory.
Fuck.
Stop it.
No.
Go ahead.
Calm yourself.
Stop moving.
That's a good start.
Want some tea?
Hey.
Are you MI6?
Proctor said you were.
Not at the moment.
What does that mean?
That means I messed up.
How?
I killed Petra Reuter.
Deliberately?
Yeah.
I didn't kill her by accident.
That's Petra.
How old would she be now?
Older than you, but manageable.
Those three men she's with there...
She killed all of them.
This is the nine-millimeter hollow-point.
When that impacts soft tissue,
it flowers up to about three times the size.
Creates a larger wound channel,
severing arteries, cutting nerves.
Massive blood loss, hypovolemic shock.
You hit someone in the sternum with that,
the bone shatters, bullet enters the heart...
The heart blows out.
- Shoot me. - What?
- Right here. - Are you out of your mind?
Shut up. Just do it.
Think of your heart as the drums.
Your breathing as the bass.
Massive blood loss... Clean through the body...
Hypovolemic shock... When that impacts soft tissue,
it flowers up to about three times the size.
You hit someone in the sternum with that...
...the bone shatters, bullet enters the heart...
...the heart blows out.
I'm putting you out in the field.
I received counterintelligence information
that Reza's making a new device for U17.
Word is it'll be a major event.
So you're going to Madrid.
It's where Marc Serra lives.
That's Serra. He's an information broker.
Used to work for the CIA,
now he trades on the open market.
We use Serra to get to U17.
You're gonna have to get close to Serra
to convince him you're Petra.
- Who's gonna pay for all this? - Fucked if I know.
You serious?
What about Abdul's father?
Suleman Kaif. He financed Proctor.
- Good idea. - Yeah, it is.
Go get us some money.
How did you get in here?
Far too easily.
What do you want?
- What do you want? - Your son was on flight 147.
Get out of my house.
You tried to prove that the crash was terrorism,
not mechanical failure,
but no one believed you except Proctor.
- You know Proctor? - Yes.
If you want to talk to me, get that gun out of my face.
Proctor promised to find out the truth for me.
Instead, he stole my money and disappeared.
- He's a fraud. - No.
- He's a thief. - No.
He's dead.
He was murdered.
So why are you here?
To offer you closure.
And how would you do that?
Violently.
And, uh, what do you want me to do exactly?
Just... Just expenses, that's all.
Just expenses.
- That's all. - That's all.
How did I guess?
Please, leave my house.
No.
On the inside.
My family's seat numbers.
People have gone to far greater lengths than this to cheat me.
- I'm not cheating you. - I don't know who you are,
but I'll find out.
Now, please leave my house.
How do you know Proctor was murdered?
- Ah, she is leaving. - Because I found him.
It was my fault.
He was the first person in three years
to treat me like a human being.
- Come on, get out. - He wasn't a fraud.
You've made a mistake.
Alia, leave it. This doesn't concern you.
My son is dead. And it doesn't concern me?
You know as well as I do
that it is far more complicated than that.
She has no idea what's she's talking about.
- But I do. - Alia, be quiet.
I will not be silenced.
You stay silent if you want to.
You were right about the flight and you know it.
Proctor showed me everything.
Whoever did it, I'll find them
and I'll kill every last one of them.
I can do it. I will.
But there will be no public vindication for you.
Killing the guilty will not heal us.
I'm not looking to get healed.
I will help you. I will give you the money.
Here.
Your ring.
No, no. Keep it.
Keep it for me.
Got your first contract for you.
Name of Lehmans. He's a piece of shit, this guy.
Deals in arms, guns, drugs, blood diamonds.
If anyone can find him, it's Serra.
Why do I have to kill him?
Lehmans is the one who led me to Petra.
And she wasn't the forgiving type.
There's something else you should know.
He arranged for the bomb to be on that plane.
- Yeah. - Hello, Marc?
Who is this?
I need you to find Eric Lehmans for me.
Eric Lehmans, huh?
Never heard of him.
What about Petra Reuter? You heard of her?
Uh, now I'm definitely not interested.
But I'll tell you something.
You can have this one for free.
Petra Reuter is dead.
I get that a lot.
Whoever you are, you're not her.
Can you find him or not?
Let me...
Let me think about it.
Sure. Why don't you call me when you finish your espresso.
Why are you looking for Lehmans?
What?
Why are you looking for Lehmans?
Never mind.
If you don't know why, I'm wasting my time.
Hold on a sec.
- How much? - How much what?
- How much will it cost? - I'll let you know.
- Call me on this number. - No.
We'll meet tomorrow. Face to face.
- Okay, where? - I'll text you.
Always figured you for a blonde.
Did you find him or not?
The fee is 200,000 euros.
It includes a risk premium.
You must have a low opinion of me.
I don't have any opinion of you yet.
Payable by wire, no cash.
That works for me.
Lehmans has an air-transport company based in Belgrade,
but he keeps his distance.
He's changed his name and lives alone
in Tangier, in his apartment and rarely goes out.
Have fun.
Who sent you?
Your outline's unclear to me.
Ah.
But you smell like a woman.
It's Petra Reuter.
If it was, I'd be dead already.
You are.
Petra had a reason to kill me. What's yours?
Stay.
Three years ago.
Ah...
Flight 147.
No, get off me!
Hey.
Hey, you!
Whoa.
Back up!
Get the fuck back.
Fairuz!
Get on your knees. Get on your knees!
A genoux! A genoux!
Hey!
Go!
Fuck.
Go!
Move! Fucking get out!
No. Fuck!
Shit. Shit. Shit!
Fuck!
You really left your mark on Tangier.
You never told me about his protection.
Lehmans made too many enemies not to have 'em.
I'm surprised you didn't know that... Petra.
- I got a proposition for you. - What?
An American financier named Leon Giler.
He's being investigated by the authorities in the US.
My client's concerned he may be tempted to cut a deal,
save his own skin.
Why is he being investigated?
He got greedy with other people's money.
And it's time-sensitive, I'm afraid.
If you need more time to think about it,
we can meet up again later.
If you're around.
Strictly business, of course.
What else would it be?
What's up?
It's Serra, he wants me to take a contract.
Some businessman in New York named Leon Giler?
Take the contract.
Giler is suspected of having financial dealings with U17.
It's believed he funded the cell that brought down the plane.
One more thing. Serra.
When it comes to the money, make it hurt.
Petra always did.
I'll do it for two million cash.
- You're shitting me. - No.
I imagine for whatever problem
your client has with Giler, that's gonna feel cheap.
And then I still owe you 200,000 for finding me Lehmans, so...
It's really only 1.8 plus expenses.
That's not reasonable at all.
Well, this isn't a reasonable business, is it?
So where exactly have you been for the past few years?
You're the information broker, Marc.
- What? - I don't know.
You're much more human than I thought you'd be, Petra.
Then it's a good disguise.
Yes, it is.
So, what's your story? You're from Munich, right?
I think you know I'm from Berlin.
Ah, Berlin, that's right. My bad.
It's just you don't speak with a trace of a German accent.
- How long have you lived here? - About six years now.
Since you left the CIA?
You know, there's a lot of people
that think that you're dead,
who would love to know that you're not.
Why not just disappear?
We are what we are.
Right?
Giler. One million dollars.
The price is two million.
Why did you kill Petra?
She murdered an MI6 colleague of mine.
I found myself in a position to return the favor.
So what was the problem?
I was ordered to stand down.
I did it anyway.
MI6 ordered you to stand down?
No.
CIA.
CIA hired Petra to track and kill U17.
Anyway, I shot her.
CIA got very upset, MI6 had to do something.
Petra was meant to kill U17
before my family's plane went down.
So that's why I'm here.
To finish the mission you fucked up.
Was your wife the MI6 colleague?
Any regrets then?
You told me revenge is never worth it.
So I'm asking you, any regrets?
Giler's security is tight.
No gun will get through,
- not the way you're going in. - Which is how?
He owns a penthouse on Central Park West.
Not his family home.
- A mistress? - Call girls.
Gas him first. Square in the face, okay?
- Are you listening? - Mmm.
When he goes down,
cut his throat.
You go in deep, you go in hard. Ear to ear.
Gas him first,
or you won't manage. And wait until you're undressed.
- You got a better idea? - I don't have a worse one.
You have to walk out, not run out,
and you can't do that covered in blood.
- You okay? - Why wouldn't I be?
I never thought you'd get this far.
Penthouse.
One moment. Guys?
I'll take that.
Hands out.
"Salbadal..."
Salbutamol. I'm asthmatic.
All that heavy breathing, huh?
Showtime.
He's just such a petty motherfucker.
No, no, no.
No, Terry. No, no.
You tell him I don't give a flying fuck.
I'll just pull the fucking plug.
I'll pull the plug right now.
- No, no, you tell him what I said the first time. - Hold on. Hold on.
- Who the hell are you? - Lisa.
- Who? - Lisa.
- Where the fuck is Madeleine? - She's off sick.
She's off sick?
- Nobody told me that. - I'm sorry, is there a problem?
Yeah, a big fucking problem.
Not less than forty fucking inches.
They should know that by now.
What are you, 36, max?
I can't work with this shit, come on!
- It's never been done. - Oh, it's been done plenty.
You do all the shit Maddie does?
- With her tits and all? - Oh, I can do a lot more.
- Yeah? - I think you'll be surprised
by what I do for you.
Oh, wow.
All right, I guess it's my lucky day.
Where's the bathroom?
- You got to use the bathroom? - Yes.
Come on.
It's right behind you, it's on the left.
Make it quick. I got to call Tokyo in an hour.
The fuck you doing in there? Let's go!
What are you doing in there, Cinderella?
Put your head down on my cock.
Head down.
Close your eyes.
Please don't. Please don't.
Don't kill me. Don't kill me.
Don't kill me, please. I have children.
A little girl. She's only nine years old.
I couldn't.
I just couldn't.
NYPD sources have now confirmed
the identities of the four fatalities
in the car explosion earlier this afternoon.
Leon Giler, his chauffeur Adam Ross,
and Giler's two children:
Michael, aged eleven, and Melissa, aged nine.
That wasn't Plan A. You were.
I saw the target get into the vehicle.
I didn't know the children were in there.
I have to live with that for the rest of my life.
Where are you going?
Away from you.
Stephanie.
Stephanie, are you there?
Look, that bomb that Reza's making for U17,
there's still no intelligence on the target or the place...
I've got my own plan, Boyd.
I'm gonna do this my way.
What happened?
I don't know if I can be who I was before.
You need some sleep.
Why did you leave the CIA, Marc?
Okay.
The things they asked me to do
went way beyond the call of duty.
You do that once,
you know it's wrong, but you get over it.
And so you do it again.
And again. And again.
Until eventually, you feel nothing at all.
So that's why you're doing this now?
I was out on my own and I had only one skillset
that had any value, so I exploited it.
Then it was because I needed to. Now it's...
It's just the thing I do.
Are you happy?
Are you?
If you would've told me when I was fifteen
this is where I'd be now...
I can't even imagine how I would've reacted,
apart from being angry.
- Angry teenager, huh? - Mmm.
With the whole world. All the time.
I'm sure.
- Hey. - What is it?
U17 is the one who hired Serra to take care of Giler.
- Stephanie? - How did you find out?
Yeah, don't worry about that right now.
- Just listen. - Hey...
Who told you this?
What you need to know is U17 is now eliminating
all connections to him.
So Serra is clearly next.
And so are you.
I have another contract.
- Who? - U17.
- Who is the client? - You are.
I just found out U17 used you to take out Giler.
That means you're next.
So what do you know?
Right. Talk to you later.
U17's gonna be in Marseille.
When?
At a peace march. He's making a device.
- Who is? - U17.
He's not even a believer.
He's got no faith at all.
Everything he does, he does for profit.
Not for the Prophet.
You know his name?
Mohammed Reza.
- He's a bombmaker. - I know who Reza is.
I used to think that's all he was.
We didn't realize that he could've been both.
You sure it's him?
Are you sure you want to do this?
I'm sure.
- Because if something goes... - I'm sure.
Why don't use the phone?
You just don't need the phone.
You just don't need it.
I'm with you.
Samira, we're in this together.
But he said to use the phone. That was the plan.
Fuck.
Shit.
Open the doors.
I can't let you off here, sir.
Why?
The demonstration is right outside.
Where's the detonator?
Reza...
I'm gonna shoot you through the fucking spine.
Where's the detonator?
If you shoot me, everyone dies.
Open the doors... Now!
Everyone get out!!
It's not working.
There's a bomb!
The detonator's not working!
Who are you?
You killed my family.
Serra sent you. He'll kill you, too.
I know.
It's a timer. It's a timer!! It's a timer!!
You coward!
Go.
Go!
Well, just let me know when you know for sure...
Yeah. Call you back.
- Hey. - I have something to tell you.
I lost my family three years ago.
They were killed...
...on the flight that exploded over the Atlantic.
Flight 147.
What was that?
You know what it was.
I've been dying for three years.
For you, it'll be a few minutes.
What's it feel like?
Hmm?
How does it feel?
You shouldn't have told me Reza was U17.
He's a fucking nobody.
Sending me to kill U17's connections.
That's when I knew it was you. So...
Probably shouldn't have done that.
You thought I wouldn't want to believe it, hmm?
We were both pretending to be someone else.
I just fucking did it better.
There's no one left.
Stephanie?
Are you Stephanie?
Whoever you are...
...thank you.
Don't mention it.
Ever.
Back in MI6?
I could be.
One sharp twist.
Petra needs to disappear.
My name's Stephanie.
I hope I never see you again.
Do you?