Crossing Lines

Like all good stories

This one starts with a beautiful woman,

young, adventurous, full of life.

Ah!

Help me!

Unfortunately, this story also starts

with the end of that life...

With her murder.

- Morning, sir. - Good morning.

Morning, major.

Good morning.

What are you doing here, Louis?

It's Major Daniel,

and I'm here because

I am a member of the National Police.

Did you send her?

No.

But she's with me.

You are no longer in the 36, major.

I'm in charge now.

When I was in charge,

I didn't feel the need to tell everyone.

You were right.

This was the same killer.

Ah!

I was not in a good way.

The truth is,

there were days, I thought about just giving up.

The only thing keeping me alive was anger

and morphine.

Commissaire Laveaux.

I need you to keep this scene sealed

for a couple of days.

Then you have no authority

to seal the scene.

I'm not ordering you.

I'm asking you,

because this may not be the first victim.

I've had no notification of any other murder.

That's because she's the first French victim.

A serial killer is in France.

You have a chance to catch him.

Me?

I need a few days, and, at the right moment,

I will turn everything

over to you.

You'll take no credit?

No.

Two days.

And I want to be kept informed

of any progress.

Thank you.

The scene will be kept closed.

Where are you going?

Amsterdam.

I had no idea how much that poor young girl,

dead in a park in the middle of Paris,

was about to change my life.

What the hell do you mean, "no"?

It's okay, darling. We can...

Guess my wife's weight!

I don't do that.

I paid my money!

I read cards.

I can tell you some things about yourself

and maybe give you some insight into...

I paid my money.

Now guess her weight!

Hey, why don't you just leave her alone, pal?

Why don't you mind your own business?

Hey, you got a problem?

Go to hell.

You want to know something about yourself?

I'll tell you something about yourself.

You got soft hands and no muscle tone,

which mark you for white-collar,

but your eyes have no spark of intelligence,

and you obviously can't decipher a simple sign, so guess what?

You're not management.

My guess is you're a drone. You're a worker-bee.

Top buttonhole's pulled wide and frayed.

You're fatter than you used to be,

and you can't afford a new shirt.

You're not even a successful worker-bee.

But maybe there's another reason

that you can't afford a new shirt. Huh?

It's a girlfriend, yeah?

- Hey... - A mistress? Huh?

But not just any mistress. Oh, no, no, no, no, no.

A mistress with a baby.

Your baby. Your baby!

Perhaps you know her, madam?

She's got long blonde hair?

You!

You said you wouldn't see her anymore!

And now there's a baby?

No, no. Bette! Let me explain this!

I think it's a boy.

In pounds, I'd say your wife is 140, 145?

I'm not sure what that is in kilos, but...

You bastard!

He is a bastard, but you are not hitting him.

Your wife is getting away.

Go.

You haven't lost your way with people.

It'd be a better world without them, yes.

How could you possibly figure the mistress and the baby?

Why are you at a carnival in Amsterdam, Louis?

That's what you're doing with your skills, Carl?

Why are you here?

Do you have somewhere private we can talk?

Yeah.

How many?

Four.

Including the one in Paris.

A lot of cutting.

He's a bad one.

Carl, do you miss the job?

Still haven't told me why you're here, Louis.

If you want to feel like a cop again,

I have a job for you.

Crossing Lines 01x01 Pilot Original Air Date June 23, 2013

Doesn't the I.C.C.

Do war crimes and genocides?

For now, we are going to try something.

"We"?

I chose a team of cops from all over the Eurozone.

Each has a special skill. Like you.

I'm not a cop anymore.

Then I won't have to pay you much.

Where are we goin'?

If you're gonna shoot me,

you could've done that in Amsterdam.

Hell, I'd have loaded the gun.

Not with your hand.

Good point.

Can't grip anything heavier than my joint

without screaming.

"Joint"?

You know... Johnson.

Pecker.

Joint.

Ah... "Braquemard."

You French make everything sound like a sauce.

But you're still able to function?

Depends on your definition of function.

You're very lucky, you know?

Lucky?

That you were born with a light "joint."

Inspector Sienna Pride.

Scotland Yard.

Interrogation specialist.

Investigator Sebastian Berger, tech genius.

Polizei Berlin, Germany.

Eva Vittoria, sergeant, anti-mafia.

Undercover and covert operations.

Detective Tommy McConnell,

Police Services Northern Ireland,

weapons and tactical expert.

And Detective Sergeant Anne-Marie San.

Criminal analyst, trafficking crimes specialist.

Team, may I present...

Detective First-Grade Carlton Hickman.

- You prefer "Carl." - NYPD.

Former NYPD.

Led the department in arrests six years running.

In convictions, too.

Four years as NYPD liaison

in Europol after 9/11.

Then back to New York, where you led the department

in arrests again.

Until you were shot in the hand.

Chasing a child abduction suspect.

- Who got away. - But you saved the child.

Impressive use of Google.

Well, here's one thing I couldn't find on Google.

If you're so bloody good,

why'd the NYPD sack you?

I'm only here because...

Louis asked me to come...

If I'm so bloody good...

You can kiss my ass in Macy's window.

Macy's window?

It's a shop in New York.

You would know that.

Well, it's not just in New York, it's all over America.

Why would his "ass" be in the window?

Waiting to be kissed by Tommy McConnell.

Carl, please.

I don't need this.

NYPD betrayed you.

It's not fair.

I don't see you

ending up as a garbage man in a carnival.

I saw you today with that man.

Your mind is sharp as ever.

We have a chance to stop a killer.

A bad one.

You don't want that?

That's not what you need?