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Uh-huh.
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There's some fucking guy,
scientist or something.
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Real sick bastard.
You listening?
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Avidly.

Says he measured
out the remains,

the cremated
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remains of a dead man.

Measured out the, uh, minerals

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left behind, you know?

The iron phosphates, the...

Whatever it is we're made up of.

Says he added it all up

to the cost of $4.40.
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You believe that?

Yeah, I guess so.

$4.40.

Burnt down man's worth less

than a fucking Big Mac,

all you can say

is "I guess so"?

Says give this poor bastard

what he's got coming.

Authentic?

Yeah.

Ten minutes.

Start the count.

All eyes are on the

newcomer, Rainer...

Can I get you something?

Two shots. Scotch.

Got money on the game?

Nah, spread's terrible.

Here. One
for the road.

No, thanks. Been

sober for three years.

Interesting career.

You do something long enough.

You close your eyes, you just can't

think of doing something else.

They found your accounts.

Where'd you spend it?

Look, man, I just wanted to start over.

Quit the Agency.

Have your drink.

It could have been anybody

walk through your door.

Yeah. But
it was you.

Go clean up your mess.

Three minutes.

Start the count.

No, please, God.

Why did you do that?

Why? Why did

you do that?

Why did you do that?

What a shame.

Have you lost

your fucking mind?

She's just a kid.

Jesus Christ.

The fuck, Emerson?

No loose ends.
How long have you been
out in the field?

It should say
there, in the file.

I want to hear what you say.

A long time.

I didn't know you smoked.

When did you start?

Right after I quit drinking.

Why did you stop drinking?

I was a drunk.

What would you say is

your current disposition?

How do I feel?

How do you feel about the girl?

She asked a very good question.

Which was?
Why?

Well, that's a question

that needs to be asked.

We are not sociopaths.

We're vulnerable to qualms of

conscience like anyone else.

We face these decisions every

day, and we vote up or down.

Like everything else,

it has all been distilled

down to zeros and ones.

They have asked for me to

describe your emotional state
in as detailed
a manner as possible.

To determine whether you are

fit to remain in the field.

I hate that it had

to turn out this way.

Me taking care of the girl,

me taking care of the police.

What you need, what

we're willing to offer,

is a change of pace.

We have a station
for you to look after.

Blackleg Miner.

One of the smaller terminals.

England?
Yeah.

Far the fuck out,

middle of nowhere.

Old American Army base.

Officially it doesn't exist.

Unofficially, it's used to broadcast

numbers to our European field agents.

How long?

Until your head is right.

You'll be babysitting
a broadcaster.

Civilian, right?

Yeah, cryptology specialist.

And one of the very few people who

can process code at this level.
You and another team, alternating shifts.
Three days each.

You keep the station safe,

you keep the code safe.

Whatever it takes.

Okay.

Do the job, Emerson.

I don't wanna look like an ass for

sticking my neck out on this one.

'Cause I've got nothing left, nothing

to keep you from the wolves.

0-7-3.

4-5-5.

8-1-7.

6-9-0-1-0.

Sorry. Little last-minute

broadcast come through.

I'll inform the authorities.

You do that.

Wanna hear my latest theory?

Sure.

We're coordinating troop

movements in Afghanistan.

Long-term
tactical formations.

Yeah.

Illegal missions unsanctioned by the

UN, that's why it's all hush-hush.

Could be.