Detective Joss Carter: [Joss just shot the man who was about to kill Finch] You all right, Harold?
Harold Finch: Detective? You have impeccable timing. How did you get here?
Detective Joss Carter: I hitched a ride with the Coast Guard. And some very unpleasant people inside said they thought they saw you come this way. So is that him, our identity killer?
Harold Finch: He was pretending to be an FBI agent. He was really rather good at it. He had a badge and a gun and...
Detective Joss Carter: And what?
Harold Finch: Body armor.
[Fahey stands up only to be shot by Cal Beecher]
John Reese: At least the storm's passing.
Harold Finch: No, Mr. Reese. I have a feeling it's just beginning.
Special Agent Alan Fahey: FBI, don't move. Hands up. I want to see some ID.
John Reese: Well, which is it? You want my hands up, or you want to see ID?
John Reese: A drug smuggler shot at me with a spear gun last night.
Harold Finch: Is that a first for you?
John Reese: Wish I could say yes.
Harold Finch: Mr. Reese is out on an island, looking for a man violent enough to pull out another man's teeth. And now I can't warn him. I have to get there myself.
Detective Joss Carter: I'm pretty sure all the roads are closed now. How do you think you're going to get out there?
Harold Finch: I think I'll use my pilot's license.
John Reese: [as Marshall Jennings] Body armor? I don't think we'll be taking heavy fire with this group.
Special Agent Alan Fahey: Look Jennings, I spend most of my 9 to 5 tethered to a desk. I've questioned a few embezzlers and some identity thieves. We're about to walk into a room with a killer.
John Reese: And I'll be standing right behind you.
John Reese: [Dragging a mostly unconscious drug dealer] Unbelievable. We're hunting a killer and we get amateur drug night in the sticks. You smuggle it in on your boat? Ah, don't say anything. Just bleed if I'm right.
Special Agent Alan Fahey: We can't afford to sit around here with or without the deputy's help. I don't think we're on the trail of just a missing person here. I think Rollins is dead, and he may not be the only one.I think we're on the trail of a cold-blooded killer.
John Reese: And you didn't want to share this earlier?
John Reese: Any word from our dearly departed Agent Shaw?
Harold Finch: Not a whisper. What worries me more at the moment is that we haven't heard anything from the machine recently either.
John Reese: Yes, I've noticed. Three days. No numbers. Maybe we're finally cleaning up the streets.
Harold Finch: As much as I'd like that, I have to wonder if it hasn't got something to do with the actually departed Kara Stanton. The virus that she uploaded during the time you spent in your bomb vest could easily have spread from the Department of Defense systems, all the way to the machine.
John Reese: You built the machine, Finch. Can't you access it? You know, check under the hood?
Harold Finch: I sealed it for a reason, Mr. Reese. I'm afraid you're going to have to wait and see what Stanton's employers have in mind for the future.
John Reese: [Exiting movie theatre] Isn't this service vest a little unethical?
Harold Finch: I am handi-capable, Mr. Reese, but I need some assistance. We don't want to exclude Bear from our rainy day activities.
John Reese: We should have seen Once Upon a Time in the West. Fewer subtitles.
John Reese: Rollins was in a hurry to get out of the city. And we're not the only ones looking for him.
Harold Finch: Heading out in a storm like this? Rollins is running from something.
John Reese: I'll find out what's on Owen Island.
Harold Finch: Mr. Reese, is that a good idea?
John Reese: Storm or no, Finch, if Rollins is our one lead, I'm headed to the beach.
Detective Joss Carter: Agent Moss? I've been doing this job a long time. Heh, probably too long. All that business about Cal Beecher; what do you know?
SAIC Brian Moss: Been doing my job for a long time too. And not having those IAB files, I can only surmise, but the kind of red flags they put up, Beecher is bad news. Steer clear, Carter.
Detective Joss Carter: Someone tried to destroy these teeth. But the flame wasn't hot enough to burn enamel. It could take some time, but if the vic's dentals are on file, we could get an ID.
Harold Finch: No, we can't wait that long. Assuming that the teeth belong to Jack Rollins, he was likely dead when they were removed. One would hope so, anyway.
Detective Joss Carter: Whoever did this knows how to get rid of a body. They didn't just want to kill Rollins, they wanted him to disappear.
Harold Finch: We may be looking at more than a string of missing persons. We may be looking at a string of murders. Six victims. If our killer can assume these identities, then he would be a composite of all these missing persons in more ways than one.
Detective Joss Carter: We're looking at a serial killer.
Deputy Erica Schmidt: I got a nor'easter touching down right now. I've got a population of 357 souls I've got to get off this island before I can't anymore. Chief of police is running the evacuation on the mainland. I'm the law left in the town with half its ass underwater.
Special Agent Alan Fahey: This is a matter of federal importance. We're looking for this man.
[Holds up photo]
Deputy Erica Schmidt: Don't recognize him. But if he was a renter, he's probably been evacuated.
[Turns to her radio]
John Reese: Mind if we at least make a few phone calls while we're here?
Deputy Erica Schmidt: Sure. If the cell and land lines weren't down, the power wasn't out, and the emergency radio didn't pick today to crap out on me. Anything else?
John Reese: Yeah. How's your coffee?
Deputy Erica Schmidt: Hey, gents, you may have jurisdiction and authority here, but one thing you don't have is my cooperation. For now, mother nature takes priority.
John Reese: What's going on here?
Deputy Erica Schmidt: This amateur storm chaser Harold Gull is under arrest. He landed his float plane in the town square.
Harold Finch: I needed a stretch of water to land and there was, well, water everywhere.
John Reese: [Looks at a bunch of equipment] And what's all this?
Harold Finch: My meteorological equipment. I've been a certified member of the National Storm Chasers and Spotters Association for over ten years.
[Reese raises his eyebrows at him]
John Reese: The National Storm Chasers Association, Harold?
Harold Finch: Well, it worked, didn't it?
John Reese: We were wrong. This isn't a group conspiracy. Those numbers, they're all dead. And we're tracking their killer.
Harold Finch: I know. I had the displeasure of seeing all that was left of the real Jack Rollins, molars and all. Some twisted mind's idea of a trophy. What if the machine sent us all six numbers to tell us that someone had been all of those people? What if a smart killer was interested not only in taking lives, but in taking identities. Like a chameleon. Changing into his victims, living their lives until he gets bored and moves on to the next. To identify such a killer, we would want to consider who he has been, and what he might look like.
John Reese: Okay, so how do you spot someone who's that good at being anyone else?
Harold Finch: If the killer is among these people, then he's out of his element; he's broken his pattern. Assuming the identities of his victims, it's part of his ritual.
John Reese: And now that Rollins' ID is burned, he's trapped. He must have taken on another identity.
Harold Finch: And he can't go anywhere with it. He's as stuck as we are.
John Reese: Why didn't the machine give us his real identity? Why play games?
Harold Finch: I assume he's smart, and he digitally erased his original persona. I did.
Detective Joss Carter: This is a building-owned security camera in Chicago six months ago. A missing persons I'm working. Guy named Rollins. This is him leaving his shop, and him coming back the next day. Oh, he moved to New York soon after. What do you notice?
Detective Cal Beecher: That the same guy both times?
Detective Joss Carter: Why do you ask?
Detective Cal Beecher: That's a close match. But the guy locking up is left-handed, and the guy unlocking is a righty. He's also a couple inches taller.
Detective Joss Carter: Exactly.
Detective Cal Beecher: What are you looking at here? Some kind of elaborate robbery?
Detective Joss Carter: Something much worse.
Harold Finch: [Harold is doing a crude lie-detector test] I'm getting clean readings. The metal in the table amplifies it. Everyone is steady. Stanley the bar owner is a little below average, but I think there might be something wrong with him.
John Reese: No, I just think his blood alcohol level could start a lawn mower.
Detective Cal Beecher: So do you think we can cross the entire state before you say a word to me?
Detective Joss Carter: What do you want to talk about? I can think of some things. Like how an NYPD detective got aced out of the FBI because she keeps bad company, how about that?
Detective Cal Beecher: What are you talking about, the FBI?
Detective Joss Carter: Not a friend of Internal Affairs, huh, Cal?
Detective Cal Beecher: Joss, I'm in Narcotics. We get pulled in by IAB half-a-dozen times a year. My neck of the woods don't mean a thing.
Detective Joss Carter: It does to me. Makes me wonder about the man I trusted.
Special Agent Alan Fahey: What gave me away? How did you know?
Harold Finch: The needle spiked in between the interviews. When I wasn't watching. When you were resting on the table. You should keep an eye on that heart rate.
Special Agent Alan Fahey: I knew you were too good at those interrogations. Who are you really?
Harold Finch: I could ask you the same thing.
Special Agent Alan Fahey: The question isn't who I am. It's who you are. I watched you all night. I can always spot an impostor. I spotted you. Are you like me?
Harold Finch: You have no idea. You're an amateur at this.
Ethan Mattson: [Dragging Reese] Not the way I planned it, man. I don't hurt people. And I didn't kill the FBI guy in that trunk. But you're in the way, so you go in the drink. Don't worry. As cold as this water is, it'll be quick.
John Reese: [Spots a paddle] Hey, Ethan.
John Reese: As quick as that?
Special Agent Alan Fahey: Now that Fahey won't get far, I think the mysterious Mr. Gull might be my next great challenge.
Harold Finch: You'll never get off the island. By morning they'll come here looking for the real Alan Fahey.
Special Agent Alan Fahey: And they'll find him. In the trunk of his car.
Harold Finch: And what about you?
Special Agent Alan Fahey: [Mimicking him] And what about you? And what about you? And what about you? You asked the question and you're the answer. Your plane. You're gonna fly me out of here. You haven't outlived your usefulness.
Harold Finch: You could never be me because I save lives. You take them.
Special Agent Alan Fahey: No, I live those lives better than real people ever could. I follow them and watch them waste what they have. I do those identities justice. The things I've seen. The lives I've lived. One day I'll stop, when I find the person I'm meant to be.
Harold Finch: [Disgusted] What? People like you don't stop. You can rationalize it however you like. But you hurt people because you like it. Because you're sick! You're maladjusted and you need help.
Detective Joss Carter: [Cal is going through the desk drawers] What are you doing?
Detective Cal Beecher: [Pulls out a bottle of alcohol] It's a police station. There's bound to be one of these around here somewhere. Hey, listen I don't know what happened last night between us, but, uh, I'm wondering what happens today.
Detective Joss Carter: I don't know what happens. But I'm glad you were here.