The Agency

Coyote is being held by a Russian mercenary group

called Valhalla.

This op is our last best shot.

Where is she?

What do you want?

In Addis, you recruited people.

I want the list.

Forty-eight hours, lover boy.

This could be a disaster.

He shows all the symptoms. PTSD triggers...

And the risks?

Loss of perspective,

- lapses in concentration... - I wish we had had

this conversation earlier,

because I signed off on Martian heading back

into the field to recruit a Valhalla asset.

We flipped one of Volchok's closest aides.

He directs Volchok into a kill zone.

Mercenaries holding Coyote will arrive at Felix.

We spring the trap, get our boy.

Yeah?

Where are you?

On my way in.

We have a situation.

What?

This line isn't secure.

No names, places.

Shoot.

Blue team in place.

Reporting greater numbers than expected.

- Shit. - Way more.

- We should abort. - No.

Martian.

- This needs a rethink. - Fuck that.

Okay, listen. You listening?

Yes.

Move the kill zone 300 meters up the road.

Blue team snatches our boy

and the bogies'll run the other way.

Their job is to protect the ball.

They hear contact, they'll run him to the chopper.

Meanwhile our HRT secures the package.

This whole thing'll look like a failed kidnap

by Ukrainian insurgents on a high value--

Martian?

Are you there?

Martian?

Martian!

Sir, can you hear me?

Sir?

- Morning. - Morning.

What's the buzz from Gremlin?

Oh, nothing. Yet.

She hates it, by the way.

What, her code name? I don't blame her.

- Gremlin? - Hmm.

Shouldn't she have landed by now?

What do you want me to say? I didn't sleep a wink.

Feel like a...

Like a what?

A bad parent.

Who sent their kid to Iran

to infiltrate its nuclear program?

You're right. That's poor parenting.

NORAD gave us access.

Full house.

Zeus satellites overhead.

- That's the good news. - What's that?

That's Felix.

Image is good.

Good?

It's fucking incredible.

Lens is a yard wide, with focal strength

between 3,000 to 4,000 millimeters.

It can see any object larger than three inches--

- a knife, a gun. - But not your dick.

Who told you that?

Besides it's about how you use it.

It's what I heard.

Go for a drink with me.

Are we doing this now?

On, like, the busiest, most stressful day ever?

It's always busy.

If I wait for a slow day,

you're gonna be married with three kids.

If this is a thing, it would've happened by now.

We aren't dateable.

Why do you say that?

Maybe, like, at a Christmas party

or in a random supply closet.

I'm all out of Post-It notes.

Show Martian this, get it up in the crisis room.

That's the bad news.

SAC showed up with all this and kicked us out.

They run the show from now on.

- How are you taking the news? - What news?

Samia. You read the report?

What report?

Naomi, what report?

I didn't tell you this.

Henry received a report from the Horn of Africa.

CTTF.

When?

I don't know.

The NSC tracked Dalaga's private jet to Khartoum.

Then a cell phone cluster by road to Kober Prison.

Kober?

Yeah, the place RSF busted everyone

out of and restocked with Janjaweed political prisoners.

That place is a hellhole.

University isn't worried. Nor her family.

I don't know what that means, but that's what I know.

I'm sorry.

So, this was...

SAC. Hurry up.

- I heard. - Yeah. You know the drill.

Soon as there's boots on the ground,

SAC sweeps in and it's "Two sugars, please."

I can't get you in.

- That's not why I'm here. - Good.

- Then go away. - It's Samia Zahir.

Thirty seconds.

She was unlawfully arrested by the RSF

and is being held in a black site in Khartoum.

- Omdurman? - Worse. Kober.

Sorry to hear that.

You know how this plays.

She'll be raped, tortured.

In two days, her body'll be found

by the side of the Atari highway.

Come here.

All right, what do you want me to say, Martian?

This whole region is in free fall.

Like, super fast-forward.

One clumsy move,

we lose our advantage.

I can send her file

- over to State. - She'll be dead

- by the time they read it. - Well, we can do

the diplomatic route. Find an intermediary,

speaks on her behalf,

someone at State pushes for her release.

And when General Hemedti says no?

She's not even a pawn, Martian.

I'm sorry.

You need Owen in there.

He's the only one who can identify Coyote.

Your Courvoisier neat, sir.

Would you care for a cigar? Cuban, Nicaraguan, Honduran?

I don't smoke.

Lucky for you.

The cigars here are, eh,

too dry.

Is like putting a dried turd in your mouth

and setting fire to it.

It's why I bring my own.

Mr. Dalaga, thank you for coming.

Someone called, uh, Paul Lewis

left a message with my secretary.

Which is, uh, strange, because as we both know,

Paul Lewis, uh, does not exist.

Shouldn't you be in Cairo?

Your cousin flew to Cairo yesterday to continue talks,

but you're still here. What happened?

Out in the cold?

You have 60 seconds.

I want news on Samia Zahir.

I have none.

If you did, could you help her?

Then who could?

Is this seriously why you drag me here?

We want to make an offer.

My people will not deal with the Americans.

I'm here on behalf of the British,

a safe intermediary.

Can you prove that?

Ask for confirmation. You'll get it.

What else will I... get?

Asylum.

British passports for you, your wife, four children.

A registered limited company to invest your money in,

in four years, a shot at a seat

in the House of Lords.

Will you throw in tea with the king?

I need one thing in return.

Dr. Zahir's life and freedom.

That's two things.

Sami wasn't even on the radar.

I persuaded my office to recruit her.

It was an attempt to save her.

That's touching.