The Accountant Page #7

Fort Leavenworth, maximum security.

Military prison?

So, he was in the Army?

Army lent him to us to track

al-Qaeda money launderers.

He was transferred from Leavenworth

to our detention center in D.C.

Did the work of five men.

Data mining, cluster analysis.

He roomed with Francis.

They kept to themselves, played chess,

ate together, sat in the TV room together.

They were inseparable.

And then one day, a guard told Wolff

why Francis hadn't called or written

since he got out.

That his burnt body had been found

in a Staten Island landfill.

Wolff snapped, went after the guard.

He fractured the man's skull

with a thermos.

Escaped from a third-floor window.

Took the thermos.

That's all you got? I mean, Leavenworth,

he'll have military records...

Records are all heavily redacted.

Well, then arrest records, something?

Spring of 2003, at a funeral home

in Kankakee, Illinois.

Our boy sends six locals to the hospital

with a variety of injuries.

No one knew Wolff.

The older man who came with him

was identified as a colonel, US Army.

A funeral home.

Whose wake?

One customer that day.

Mrs. Lauren Alton.

Mrs. Alton taught first grade

for 13 years in Kankakee.

Survived by a husband

and two boys, ages 12 and 10.

By all accounts,

an ordinary life, well lived.

But cut short.

It'll be all right.

Excuse me, sir, this is family only.

Sir, I'm going to ask you to step outside.

And then a fight breaks out.

A brawl, really.

Over what,

the authorities never pinned down.

Get your hands...

Deputies respond.

A Barney Fife-type squares off

with our boy, gets rattled, pulls his gun.

The colonel just stepped in front of 831.

Army collects both men.

Police report names Wolff

as "Soldier One."

And widower

identified the colonel by name.

His late wife's former husband.

I checked. It's an alias.

No more real than "Christian Wolff."

She was the dead colonel's ex-wife.

And you think Wolff is what to him?

Were you a good dad, Ray King?

I've given up trying to figure out

when I'll get a call.

The "why" though, that I've got.

Someone breaks his moral code.

Why are you telling me this?

I'm retiring in a few months.

When she calls,

somebody needs to be there to answer.

No.

He's a criminal, Ray.

Yeah.

He aids and abets drug cartels,

money launderers.

He's a f***ing killer.

Believe me,

I wrestled with the same decision.

But when I got that first call,

I realized something.

I'd spent my whole life only recognizing

my lucky breaks after they were gone.

The Brit, who is she?

Hello?

Miss Medina.

Tell Eliot Ness to get his feet

off the furniture.

He's not in a barn.

Living Robotics.

Write it down.

North of six feet, short hair,

athletic build, yes?

- Correct.

- But when you say short hair,

you mean short hair like my hair,

or you mean short hair like...

What's the difference?

I was told you could fix this, so fix it!

But you did speak to the man, am I right?

You spoke to him?

What did he sound like?

I didn't make small talk.

What's it matter what he sounded...

That's Ike, right? That's the north side?

Yo, Bobby, was that you?

Bob.

Bobby.

Ike, are you there?

Ike?

Guys, stop f***ing around.

Someone answer me. Ike?

Pull was to the left.

You might consider using a round

with a superior ballistic coefficient.

Give me the layout of the home.

Points of entry, corridors, rooms, cover.

Go.

F***.

- Sit down.

- What's this...

Shut up. Sit down in the chair.

You ever see a match-grade round traveling

3,000 feet per second go through a window?

Nobody does.

Get down, now!

Four men, front entrance.

Go right at him. Go now.

You...

I got the cameras.

Go join your friends.

Up.

Clear.

Smoke.

Go, go!

Go, go!

Attack front entry!

Man down!

Guys, talk to me.

You got eyes on who it is?

Someone talk to me.

Let me know what the sitrep is.

Are they dead?

Give me a situation report. How many down?

Are they dead? Answer me!

Okay, he's on the roof.

Start forming up. Let's move.

Check skylights, check windows.

That motherf***er comes in,

I wanna hear gunshots

and I wanna hear "target eliminated."

That's enough. He's in the goddamn house.

Get out there and end this!

Brax, give me a situation report.

Have you got eyes on anything?

What's happening?

Say something!

Solomon Grundy

Born on a Monday

Christened on Tuesday

Married on Wednesday

Sick on Thursday

Worse on Friday

Died on Saturday

Buried on Sunday

"And that was the end of Solomon Grundy"

What is this?

Hey! Hey!

Stand down!

F*** off!

Hello, Braxton.

No, no.

Don't...

Don't do that...

Been looking for you for 10 years,

and you're gonna come at me

like we just saw each other yesterday?

That's what you're gonna do?

What did I...

What'd I think?

What'd I think? That you were gonna be

happy to see me, I guess.

I am happy.

I need to finish.

You should go.

I should go?

Okay...

Okay, I'll just go.

But first, I'm gonna ask you a question.

You're gonna give me an answer.

Why would you and Pop go to that funeral?

She left us. Do you not remember that?

Do you not remember that?

It's your fault that Pop's dead!

You hear me?

It's your fault!

- I'm sorry, Braxton.

- Sorry?

Sorry doesn't cut it, you weird f***!

You don't give a sh*t about me?

You don't give a sh*t about me?

How about now?

How about now?

Are you gonna fight?

Fight!

I'm sorry, Braxton.

If you had to see her,

if that was something that you had to do,

you call me.

I'm your brother.

I've always had your back.

You don't call him, you call me.

Did you even wonder where I was?

I knew where you were.

I just wanted you to be safe.

Some of my clients are quite dangerous.

I'm, kind of, considered

fairly dangerous myself.

Well, you've made improvements.

Sh*t, man.

You and me here...

What are the odds?

Statistically speaking...

Christ, man! It's rhetorical.

I mean, really?

I was just saying.

Not happy.

Do you consider

what you do important, Mr. Wolff?

To someone other than yourself, I mean?

What I do is.

Living Robotics' public offering

would've been worth billions.

Money to be used

for neuroprosthetics, nanotechnology.

You...

Why in God's name did I ever hire you?

To leak-proof your books.

Dana found a mistake, and you wanted

to be sure it was safe to go public.

And now you want to kill her.

I'm fond of Dana.

But I restore lives, not Dana! Me!

Men, women, children,

I give them hope. Make them whole.

Do you even know what that's like?

Yes, I do.

Sorry.

I missed you.

"Missed you, too, Braxton.

"Missed you, too, because I love you.

"You're my brother."

Maybe...

Do you want to...

Maybe I could see you in a week?

You name the place. I'll be there.

How will I find you?

You won't.

I'll find you.

There.

How do you respond to rumors

that some of the victims have wounds

consistent with anti-aircraft rounds?

I'd say the Chicago Police Department

has ample experience

solving all manner of homicides.

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