Over 68 million Americans
leave the safety of our borders every year.
If danger strikes,
the FBI's international response team
is called into action.
Oh, you guys go ahead. I think I'm going to walk back.
You're crazy.
You're like over a mile from your apartment.
Are we forgetting my three-mile morning jogs?
Despite what the French think,
all Americans aren't fat and lazy.
Sam, are you sure? It's kind of late.
Ladies, we're in Paris.
It's a beautiful night, and you want to squeeze yourself
onto a subway train with a car full of des étrangers?
Yeah.
Somebody has watched "Moulin Rouge!"
Way too many times!
Come on! Who's coming with me?
Sam, I love your bohemian soul and all,
but my soles are hurting like hell.
No way I'm walking across town in these shoes.
Quel dommage.
Oh. Damn it.
Mademoiselle, ça va ?
Ça va, merci. Uh...
I just completely forgot how to say, "I broke my heel."
"J'ai cassé mon talon."
Of course, you speak English.
Un peu. Uh, may I help you, miss?
No, I'm good.
Thank you. Merci.
Well, you sure I can't offer you a ride?
I can take you anywhere you like.
Samantha Wade.
Elementary-school teacher from Nashville, Tennessee,
found this morning by two of her friends.
Murdered and staged in the apartment she'd been leasing
for the past three weeks.
Due to the brutal and provocative nature
of Samantha Wade's murder,
our ambassador and the French foreign minister
have requested the I.R.T.'s assistance
in the homicide investigation.
And given that about two million Americans visit Paris per year,
not to mention an additional 50,000 on work visas,
I'd bet they'd also like us
to draw up a threat assessment to U.S. citizens.
Well, there's nothing more threatening than this.
What are these things in her eyes?
French investigators have identified them
as timber scribes.
Bladed instruments used by land surveyors to inscribe trees.
Not exactly your go-to murder weapon.
Especially in an urban environment.
These tools are really old... pre-World War I.
No prints, so they're not gonna help us narrow down
our unsub's current occupation.
Yeah, but these scribes
aren't exactly the murder weapons, either.
I mean, even from these photos,
you can see that the ocular injuries
aren't her cause of death.
But I don't see an official autopsy report here, Monty.
The autopsy is being performed by the Paris Coroner
as you guys sail over the Atlantic.
It says here that late last night,
Samantha had dinner with the same two friends
who found her this morning... Sheila Martin and Renee Alston.
According to them,
she chose to walk home while they took the Metro train.
Yeah, and that was around 12:30 A.M. local time.
So Samantha could have easily been followed home.
Sure.
But there were not signs of forced entry into her apartment.
So it's possible that she knew
or was familiar with her attacker.
Except that the French investigators
are interviewing all of her known friends and associates,
including Sheila and Renee.
Everybody's alibi is checking out.
Which means Samantha's assailant might have presented in a way
that felt comfortable to her.
Well, safe enough to open the door.
Well, there's also this French saying,
se mettre le doigt dans l'oeil,
which means to put your finger in your eye.
It's the French equivalent of putting your foot in your mouth.
As in to make a mistake.
A mistake that, obviously,
someone felt Samantha had to pay for.
Got to be more to it.
I mean, this staging is so extreme.
It's like he's pictured it in his mind's eye for a while,
and now he's bringing it to life.
Well, if that's the case, Jack,
all of this preparation and effort,
he's definitely got a taste for it now.
Bon après-midi.
Just a sec!
Qui est-ce ?
Pardon me, Mademoiselle.
You left something behind.
No, please!
N'ayez pas peur. Ce sera bientôt fini.
- Synced and corrected by MasterCookie - - www.addic7ed.com -
"The bonds between ourselves and another person
exist only in our minds."
Marcel Proust.
You must be from the FBI, no?
Yes, we are.
I'm Unit Chief Jack Garrett.
These are supervisory Special Agents
Seger, Jarvis, and Simmons.
And you are?
Commissaire Pierre Clément,
lead inspector, police judiciaire.
If you would follow me, please.
I'm not fluent in these joint operations,
so you must forgive me if I don't appreciate having,
how you say, my hand held.
Commissaire Clément, we are not here to hold your hand,
just lend our expertise and experience.
Bien sûr.
During your flight, another woman was found...
staged in her apartment.
Instead of mutilating the eyes, he cut off her head.
Took it with him.
- Another American woman? - Oui.
We have made an identification.
Bianca Lewis, 37 years old,
work visa says she was employed as a publicist.
Living in Paris for about 18 months.
Is there any connection between Bianca Lewis and Samantha Wade?
None that my inspectors have been able to establish thus far.
We'll follow up with victimology back home.
But right now, all we know
is Samantha was a tourist
and Bianca was a temporary non-immigrant worker.
Still, female American... both staying in the 18th arrondissement.
Montmartre...
part of the right bank in the northern section of city.
Hey, guys, take a look at this.
Cette fois-ci, décapitée dans son appartement du 18e arrondissement...
Somebody has been seriously over-sharing with the press.
Well, that would be me, Mademoiselle.
In my experience, sharing with our journalists
often has a way of... Shaking the fruit out of the tree.
And smacking you on the head, right?
Let's just say that your faith in the press corps
is a little stronger than ours.
So, I've arranged for you to work out of this room.
And copies of all our reports
will be made available as soon as we...
Actually, I'll need to visit the Bianca Lewis crime scene
with Agent Simmons here.
I'll also need Agent Jarvis to review the autopsy findings
while Agent Seger looks over the evidence
collected at the Samantha Wade scene.
Anything else you require, Sir?
No, that's it.
For now.
Très bien.
Let's get to work.
Just like at Samantha's apartment.
Bianca's body was posed
in the same area of the room as Samantha's,
the same sitting position...
With all the violence concentrated right here.
Everything else looks pretty undisturbed.
Like Bianca had just come home from grocery shopping.
These bags are pretty full, though.
Maybe somebody helped her carry them up the stairs.
What are you thinking, Jack?
No arterial spray.
He killed her before he removed her head.
Postmortem mutilation.
It's like what Mae said about Samantha's eyes.
You think he took the head as a trophy?
It's hard to say.
Maybe he thought in this case,
having a severed head lying around
would just confuse his message.
Well, I'm confused.
We have one woman with gouged eyes,
another with no head.
What the hell's he trying to say,
besides, "I'm a sick, misogynistic son of a bitch"?
The staging at both scenes was deliberate, complicated.
It would have taken a lot of time.
And yet our unsub had no fear of interruption or distraction.
Because you think that he knew
they were staying in these apartments alone.
Which would suggest that even if
Samantha and Bianca didn't know each other,
they might have known the unsub.
Except he's completely objectified his victims.
It's a lot harder to objectify someone
you've had a relationship with...
Rather than a stranger.
So how do you get to know someone without really knowing them?
All righty.
Three years of college French, don't fail me now.
Okay.
"L'agression à coup de couteau... "
"The sharp-force injury to each eye occurred... "
"... après la mort."
"Postmortem." Good call, Jarvis.
"With Samantha's cause de décès actually being étranglement."
Strangulation, broken hyroid bone.
While Bianca's cause of death is...
Also étranglement, wow.
Okay, "avant la mort... "
"Antemortem contusions suggest manual strangulation
prior to the crude disarticulation of the head."
Hold on.
"Also recovered a fragment of metal,
possibly a piece of l'arme du crime."
The murder weapon.
Oh, way to bury the lede, guys.
Weird.
Quoi de neuf, mon cher ami ?
Hey, I need you to run some evidence for me.
Okay, but you do know that the French
pretty much invented forensic science, right?
Yeah. Give or take a hundred years.
I'm just saying that they've got a pretty good crime lab
right there in Paris.
So the Coroner was able to recover
a piece of the murder weapon from Bianca's body,
and I know that they're gonna mass-spec
the you-know-what out of it.
But there is this weird piece of this symbol on it.
These curvy, wavy lines look like I got some work to do.
So Samantha had dinner with her friends
here in the 10th arrondissement.
And then she walked back to her apartment here in the 18th.
We have yet to determine the precise route,
so a broad search of CCTV footage
has turned up nothing yet.
However...
It would appear she arrived home,
and then some time later,
she invited the intruder inside the premises.
That's a very long way to walk in those heels.
That's what her friends thought, too.
One of the heels is broken.
Snapped off in the struggle with her assailant, to be sure.
Are you sure?
Did you see this residue?
I did not personally process the victim's clothes, no.
But I'm not sure how gravel would be probative.
It's not gravel.
Do you see how it sort of shimmers in the light?
This is epoxy mortar.
It's used to set, among other things, cobblestones...
like the ones
in some of your famous little streets around here.
Agent Seger, those cobblestone streets
are hundreds of years old.
Exactly.
That's why people travel all over the world to walk on them.
The dirty little secret is some of those stones
are not nearly as old as advertised.
Bien sûr, they require maintenance.
And some of them even need to be replaced.
That's where the epoxy mortar comes in.
48 hours ago, Samantha took a walk
on a freshly paved cobblestone street,
somewhere between the restaurant and her apartment.
That's when she broke her heel.
And she walked home from there.
But she didn't.
Look at the autopsy photos of her feet.
There's no scratches, no dirt...
nothing to suggest that she walked barefoot anywhere.
She got a ride back to her apartment.
I suppose she could have hailed a taxi.
Exactly.
From a street that had had recent road work done.
And if we're lucky, some sort of surveillance camera.
Putting Mae's metal fragment aside,
I found the street that you're looking for, Clara...
Cour des Rêves.
Right, but Commissaire Clément said
that there were no CCTV cameras nearby.
He is correct.
However, there's an American bank
on a nearby corner with a camera that captured this.
They were kind enough to send me the security-camera footage.
That's not a taxi.
Is that the best image we have of the driver?
I am afraid so.
Oh, it doesn't look like she knows this guy.
Yeah, it's so weird.
I mean, not only does she get into a car with a stranger,
but she gets into the backseat.
There's no record of Samantha requesting a ride-share.
What if it was a gypsy cab?
Gypsy cab in Paris?
Hold on.
Wait. What's that right there...
hanging from the rearview mirror?
It looks like a hackney horse.
Which is a recent symbol for gypsy cabs in the city.
And that's how you get to know someone without knowing them.
Our unsub drives a gypsy cab.
Makes perfect sense... he needs a way to learn
if his prospective victims are American, living alone.
This way, he gets to interview them.
It's kind of like "taxi cab confessions."
I mean, taxi-cab drivers and bartenders...
they're always the strangers
that we feel the most comfortable confiding in.
Because they are shared intimacies
we want to believe are fleeting
and don't have a lasting impact.
At least we have the image of the vehicle.
This partial license-plate number won't get us very far.
It won't get us anywhere.
Those plates are stolen.
And I got to be honest, it's not gonna be that easy
tracking down this one particular vehicle.
There's at least 25,000 of them registered in Paris alone.
Well, we can start by having the local police
sweep the 18th arrondissement.
Well, that's a start, but our unsub's hunting ground
is gonna expand
wherever he can find a vulnerable American woman.
And with 2 victims in less than 48 hours,
he's already hunting for his next victim right now.
Hey, hey. Bonjour.
Uh, je veux que vous me chassez...
Sorry. Pardon.
Um, peux-tu...
oh, it's all right, Mademoiselle. I do speak English.
Oh! Seriously?
That's awesome.
I can take you anywhere you like.
How about 17 rue de Foss?
Bien sûr
Where are you from, then?
San Diego, California.
Ah.
And what brings you to Paris?
A music internship... I play piano.
In the cafe where you work, I presume?
No, I just need some extra cash.
And it's helping me improve my French.
So, uh, 17 rue de Foss.
That is not a hostel or hotel.
No, yeah, I'm staying with a friend.
Ah. A boyfriend?
I wish.
You must have a special boyfriend,
a beautiful butterfly like you.
Oh, not so much.
Hmm.
And, uh...
How are you getting along with this friend you're staying with?
You know what?
Um, do you mind just letting me out up at the corner up here?
But we're not at your apartment.
No, I know, that's okay. Just right up here.
No, it's not. It's not safe here.
Okay, look, François, I want out now!
Hé, mais ça va ?
You let me out right now, or I'm sending this to the cops.
Do you hear me?
What the hell are you doing?!
Tais-toi, tais-toi !
Katherine Barker, 25.
A music intern from San Diego, California.
She was discovered in an alley in the 2nd arrondissement.
He literally tore out her heart and stuck it in her hands.
Looks like she suffered compound fractures to her legs
and her pelvis.
And that tells me that he tore her heart out
after he ran her over.
But why change the pattern here?
Why stage the body in an alley, not her own apartment?
Because Katherine fought back.
She tried to get away.
These abrasions on her face, along her legs...
it's road rash,
I'd say from jumping out of a moving vehicle.
So now we're looking at 3 victims
in the span of 72 hours.
And given that our unsub
needs to find an American woman in a foreign city,
it's as if he doesn't have a cooling-off period.
I think it's time we speak to the public about what we know.
Offer them a warning
to avoid contact with the driver of this gypsy cab,
implore them to notify us immediately if they should see him.
That strategy cuts both ways.
"Cuts both ways"... what do you mean?
No doubt a warning will protect the public in the near term.
What we're concerned with is if we're not able
to apprehend the unsub immediately afterwards,
then he might respond by abandoning the car.
And right now, as long as he feels comfortable
behind that wheel, then we have a chance of catching him.
But if he ditches that car,
not only will it make it harder for us to track him down,
it will force him to alter his M.O. even further.
So you're telling me I'm damned if I do, damned if I don't.
We need more time.
Letting the unsub know what we know right now
is really a nuclear option.
I will wait then... until morning.
Then we sound the alarms.
So what did I tell you, Mae? The French
ran a radiocarbon dating on the metal fragment
that was recovered from Bianca Lewis' body.
Turns out to be an iron composite
that was smelted down into what is essentially a hand saw...
some time in the late 19th century.
Well, I'm gonna go out on a limb and say
this probably won't help us narrow down our unsub's identity.
Maybe, but it did help me identify
those weird wavy lines etched into the fragment.
Now, because the timber scribes and the hand saw
are both very old and very French,
I did some digging and discovered a logo
for a once-renowned wood-craftsman company
out of Marseilles.
Le lion de l'eau.
Company was founded by the Boulanger family in 1880.
It remained family-owned until it was sold in 1987.
And whatever happened after that to either the company
or the Boulanger family was not uploaded for digital posterity.
So what are we thinking?
If our unsub's weapons of choice
can be loosely traced back to this company,
then is he a possible relative of the Boulanger family?
Or a subsidiary that acquired some of the company's assets.
Your guess is as good as mine.
We don't have time for guesswork.
We need to be able to provide Clément and his people
with a workable profile,
otherwise he's gonna release the information we have
to the public.
So let's go over it again.
Okay, we're looking for someone who is criminally sophisticated,
strong, patient, which suggests to me an older male,
probably in his 40s.
Hunting for the right victim takes time,
so it doesn't look like he has a job.
Unless the gypsy-cab thing is legit
and he's only striking when the victim is the right type.
Yeah, and based on his staging of the bodies
at the last crime scene,
it appears to me that Katherine, Bianca, and Samantha
are all surrogates for our unsub's true target,
and their murders are probably a means
to build his courage and confidence
in order to commit the ultimate act.
So somewhere out there is an American woman
who broke this guy's heart.
Or rejected him or committed some perceived slight
that he now feels that he has to redress...
in the most brutal way possible.
Jack?
Clément is dropping the bomb.
_
You were right.
He abandoned his vehicle in l'entrepôt...
the 10th arrondissement.
He left nothing behind for us.
I know you believe
I have altered this monster's behavior unpredictably.
But I would like to believe I stalled his progress.
He will most certainly need another car
in order to maintain his deceit.
If he maintains his deceit.
He could just go into a tailspin...
you need to double down.
Call in reinforcements if you have to.
Your department needs to show overwhelming force
on the streets of Paris tonight
and every night until we catch this man.
This unsub needs to feel your breath
on the back of his neck at all times,
and every American woman out there who could be his next victim
needs to feel like there's a cop on every corner
who's there to protect them.
I will do what I can.
All right, we need to focus on a possible connection
between our unsub and the boulanger family
or this craftsman company in Marseille.
And we need to find some way to get our hands on hard copies
of all those records and histories.
All right, I'm on it.
_
Mademoiselle, do you speak English?
English?
Yes.
Are you American, by chance?
_
Ay, ay, ay!
_
Her name is Alexandra Lafayette.
Her husband came home last night and startled an intruder,
who escaped.
But that's when he found her.
She's French?
My inspectors didn't immediately connect her
with the American women until they saw this.
Looks like a butterfly.
I don't understand.
He filled her stomach full of dead butterflies.
Yeah, but it doesn't look like any kind of butterfly
I've ever seen before.
He didn't take the time to stage her body at the scene.
As I said, Madame Lafayette's husband walked in on him.
Yeah, but how did he not know that she was living with her husband?
I mean, do you think that he didn't have a chance to ask her?
Or maybe he no longer cares.
Why wouldn't he care?
It's a terrible risk.
Because maybe he doesn't have time to care
if his victims are American or French.
And now any vulnerable woman will do.
He has to finish what he started before it's too late.
Too late for what, Mademoiselle?
Well, for one thing, he knows that we're on to him.
And it's just a matter of time before we shut him down, right?
Right, but I think there's something else applying pressure to him,
forcing him to accelerate his mission,
its statement.
And this time, it's his butterflies in the stomach.
That is what he was trying to say.
I think we've been looking at these murders
like they're just rehearsals.
But maybe they're the main event.
How do you figure?
I think our visceral reaction to the brutality here
is keeping us from seeing the scene
from the unsub's point of view.
I have butterflies in my stomach.
I have my heart in my hands.
I lost my head.
And I am blinded by love.
This is not love.
This is vicious and cruel.
Yes, but, you see, they aren't either of those things to our unsub.
To him, these crime scenes are a way
for him to try and express himself.
Yeah, and you think that he's trying to express himself
to this idealized American woman?
I do.
I think he is trying to tell her how she makes him feel.
It's like a series of sick, twisted valentines.
So you don't think she's a target.
I think she's the object of his affections,
and he will try and reach out to her for sure.
But if and when she rejects his affections...
He will feel betrayed by love
and ultimately lash out on her.
Let us presume you're correct, Agent Seger.
If we can't find this man,
perhaps we find this woman.
I just know if she will be any easier to find than him.
Yeah, but let's not forget about these guys here.
I mean...
Something tells me that this butterfly effect may just...
how did you say it, Commissaire Clément?
Shake the fruit out of the tree?
Say hello to my little friend.
Udaspes folus... a.k.a. the grass demon butterfly.
Not only does he not normally reside in your intestines,
but he's a non-native to the European continent.
He prefers India and southeast Asia.
So our unsub either gets hold of these demon butterflies
by importing them or stealing them.
Let's go with what's behind door number two.
Import records show a delivery was made to the Paris area
about nine months ago, to Maison des papillons,
which is literally "house o' butterflies."
Then about a week ago, a trespassing charge was filed
and then dropped
against a 42-year-old man named Paul Mossier.
Wait a second. That name sounds familiar.
That last name... Mossier.
When I followed up with the Boulanger family
and what's become of the le Lion de l'eau company,
there was a dispute over inheritance
that was filed 20 years ago by Killian Mossier.
Could be an uncle on Madame Boulanger's side.
I'm not big on coincidence.
Yeah, right.
And if Paul is connected to the family,
then that's how he gets the murder weapons.
Monty, what else can you tell us about this Paul Mossier?
He's got a bit of a record
dating back the last several years.
Various assaults, disorderly conduct.
Then it says here that following
an attempted assault on a police officer,
Paul Mossier was remanded to a psychiatric hospital.
He's supposed to be an in-patient
at l'Institut du Pinel.
Clara and I will check it out...
While you two stay here and try to identify
the American woman who's the focus of our unsub's attention.
- Bonjour. - Bonjour.
Je suis l'officier Seger.
C'est l'unité du Chef Garrett.
Nous sommes du FBI.
Nous aimerions parler avec Monsieur Paul Mossier.
- Je vais voir. - Excuse me.
You are looking for Paul?
That's right. And you are?
Dr. Alain Gilles, clinical director of behavioral health.
Is Paul Mossier a patient here?
I'm sorry, but, uh, why does the FBI want to speak to him?
His name's come up with regards to an ongoing investigation.
You think he has something to do
with the American women who have been murdered.
We need to speak to him.
Paul was released from our supervision over two weeks ago.
When he was remanded to this facility,
what was his diagnosis?
I'm truly not at liberty to share those details with you.
Were you his primary therapist?
Yes, myself and Dr. Bernard.
But to be honest,
Paul showed the greatest signs of improvement
over the last months
while working with one of our volunteers.
She, uh, used art therapy.
Is this her?
Yes. Her name is Amy Wallace.
Amy's an American, isn't she?
- Yes, she is. - May we speak with her?
Unfortunately, she is no longer here.
She left about a month ago.
Did she see this before she left?
No.
Paul took her absence very hard.
He comes from a family of craftsmen,
but due to his struggles with mental health,
they rejected him.
Amy was probably the first person
to help him realize his potential.
But this hospital felt comfortable releasing him
despite his known aggressive tendencies
and this suggestion of a violent fantasy?
It's not what I would have preferred,
but Paul had improved enough
that we could no longer hold him involuntarily.
Do you know if Paul tried to contact Amy after his release?
As a matter of fact, he did, yes.
He asked for her address.
And that's when someone mentioned that she had gotten engaged
and that she was returning to the United States.
But you don't know if or when she returned to the U.S.?
No, I do not, I'm sorry.
Thank you, doctor.
Sure.
Thank you.
We need to find Amy Wallace... now.
Paul?
Bonjour, Amy.
I didn't know you knew where I lived.
Well, I apologize for not calling
before dropping by like this.
No, it's fine. I...
Just thought you were the movers.
They're already an hour late, and I'm moving back home.
Oh.
But it's really good to see you.
It's really good to see you, too.
Sorry I haven't had a chance to visit.
It's been a busy time.
Well...
I'm no longer a patient at the hospital.
Wonderful.
And you're still working on the things we were focused on?
Oh, yes, I have.
I-I need to show you something.
Okay.
Uh, but, uh, it's not here.
So I need to take you... to see it.
Paul, like I said, I can't leave.
I'm still waiting for the movers.
I...
I've been working really hard, Amy.
Please...
Come...
With me.
Okay.
Let me just grab my coat.
Okay.
Paul, stop, stop!
Please.
I'm not going to hurt you.
I promise.
We're just playing le jeu d'évanouissement.
It's a fainting game.
Good night, my love.
My inspectors have searched the building and outer perimeter.
There's no sign of Paul Mossier or Amy Wallace.
No sign of a struggle.
I'm not surprised.
If we're right, at this moment,
Paul's intention is not to hurt Amy,
but to try and impress her with what he's done.
So he would have incapacitated her
in order to transport her someplace he feels safe and comfortable.
I cannot believe his intention is not to kill her.
She could already be dead
and he's taken her body somewhere to pose it.
Believe it or not, Paul's actually trying to woo Amy,
which means we have time, but you are right.
Eventually, Amy will see what Paul has done,
and she will absolutely reject him.
And that's when he kills her.
The question is, where did he take her?
Simmons, what do you got?
At 2:37 P.M.,
Alexandra Lafayette called for roadside assistance.
When the tow-truck driver finally showed up,
he sees another tow truck
hauling away appears to be Alexandra's vehicle.
That was under the bridge near the rue de l'Étoile,
and Monty's got a hook up to the CCTV cameras
at the intersection running both north and south of there.
Let me patch you in, boss.
I was able to spot our unsub's new ride, which is a tow truck,
and he's clearly got Alexandra's car hooked up to it.
He's heading northbound on the rue d'Étoile.
But I ran all the CCTV footage.
I lost them heading north-northeast
toward the Tremblay-en-France.
I don't think he'd take her completely out of the city, Jack.
That's a pretty industrial area. It's a good place to lay low.
But there's no record of a Paul Mossier
owning or leasing property out in that area.
Well, it's got to be connected
to Killian Mossier somehow.
Mae and I will check the records again.
We need to set up a command post out near the airport.
Paul? Where am I?
Je suis là.
Je suis là pour toi. Tranquille. On est ensemble. Finalement.
Aah!
No!
Doucement.
That's why I need you to see everything I've done, okay?
Here. Here.
According to those files you scanned for me,
the Mossier clan is like some withering bastard branch
of the Boulanger family tree.
But the Mossiers... or what's left of them...
they held title to five separate holdings
on the outskirts of Paris.
From Meaux all the way to Plaisir.
Jack and Clara are getting pretty close to that one property in Villepinte.
We have lost our sense of history.
They are calling me the butcher of Paris.
That name was given to Marcel Petiot.
He was a doctor who killed 23 people
during World War II.
He was a butcher.
And moi?
I am... An artiste.
I took flesh and bone and made them, uh...
Transcendent.
But none of this would be possible without you.
You are my muse, Amy.
Because of you, I am transcendent.
You've always been special, Paul.
But I couldn't see that before you.
I know.
You know...
When I was a little boy,
my father tried to teach me how to carve the wood.
He got frustrated
and burned my hand with his cigarette.
Told me I was not his blood.
I... I am so sorry.
Will you please let me go, Paul?
- I can't. - Yeah.
Yes, you can.
No, no, Amy.
Without you, I am nothing.
I love you, Amy.
Je t'aime.
You understand what I've done, don't you?
I do.
How do you like it?
Jack, the French national police
have detained Killian Mossier in Toulouse.
He has confirmed that his nephew has taken possession
of the property you're heading to now.
Does he know if his nephew
has stockpiled any other weapons?
He knows that his nephew's crazy.
I...
I can't believe you did that.
All those women, Paul?
Oh. Je suis désolé.
Oh, sorry?
You're disgusting.
You're sick.
You've always been sick.
Ah bon ?
Huh ?
Et ça ! C'est quoi ça ! C'est quoi !
Tu es...
une salope...
sans coeur !
I'm sorry, Amy.
Put it down, Paul!
Now!
You know what?
This is one time that I am kind of okay with
the mechanical delay on the jet.
This is a beautiful city.
Yes, it is.
It's hard sometimes to appreciate the beauty.
Yeah, we got to find it... somehow.
Otherwise, I don't think we could do the job we need to do.
Yeah, even the darkest night will end, and the sun will rise.
To beauty...
wherever we may find it.
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