We come out at night.
Black smoke.
You see me, right?
You want me to find you.
I see you.
Are we clear in there?
- Yeah.
- All right.
McCaffrey, it's a mess in there.
Try not to make it worse.
Yeah.
Hey,
anyone moved her?
Nope. There's a burned filter
still in her left hand.
Boyfriend said he left her
in the bed smoking.
Guy with a red hoodie?
Yeah. Said when he came back,
the place was already burning.
Yeah.
Uh, he tried to get to her.
Not a chance.
Tequila.
Well, he's right. The fire
started in the mattress.
Accidental
by smoking materials.
I didn't say that.
Give him a hand
with those ladders!
Right before the fire?
Yeah.
I tried,
but it burnt my hands.
- Thanks, man. I got this.
- Okay.
Hey. How you doing?
I'm sorry about your loss.
Thanks.
What's your name, man?
I... Dylan.
Sorry,
I still can't believe it.
That's okay.
I understand.
All right, Dylan,
was your girlfriend in bed alone?
Yeah. Um... I was watching
a movie on the couch.
Must've fallen asleep.
And by the time I woke up, she's...
Yeah. I get it, I get it.
But, you see,
the thing about people burning to death
is that they always,
even in their sleep,
reflexively pull away
from the flame.
But your girlfriend didn't.
And also, you know,
people don't sleep in the middle
of a king-size bed, right?
They pick one side or the other.
When somebody lowers an
unconscious person onto a bed,
they put them in the middle,
'cause it's easier.
So, you gotta understand a curious
person like me is left wondering
when I get this tested,
am I gonna find more
than agave in there?
Fucking piece of shit!
Jesus, who are you?
I'm a fireman.
Office of Fire Investigation,
can I help you?
Morning.
You get any sleep?
Yeah, sure,
if putting my head on the steering wheel
outside
for 20 minutes counts.
Hey, Sean?
Cap'n wants to see you.
- What's his name again, Warren?
- Webber.
Christ, he's been here a month.
It's Watts.
You two are hopeless.
Hey, Cap'n?
You want to see me?
Sit down, please.
Nice work with
the murdered girlfriend.
You got an attaboy from that
watch lieutenant in Homicide.
Doyle? Did he choke on it?
I got the impression "thank you"
and "Fire Department"
in the same sentence
doesn't come naturally.
Yeah, but we're not really the
fire department, though, are we?
Temporary detail order
for Maggie Rening to OFI.
Finished state arson school,
peace officer certs
and weapon qualifying.
Why are you telling me this?
She's your new partner.
What? Hang on.
Two-man teams.
That's the rules.
Look, we've never had partners before.
Why now?
Probably because for too long,
nobody's bothered to actually run this unit.
Look, the only reason
Suppression captains like you
request OFI
is to brush up your resume before
going for battalion chief,
and I get it, I do.
But none of you really
understand how we work here,
and if you're like
every other short-termer,
the whole
fireman-with-handcuffs thing
probably rubs you wrong
on principle.
We offer a pretty good deal.
I mean, you get to sit there all
day studying for your BC exam,
but in return,
let us catch arsonists
our way, okay?
Yeah,
I came from Suppression.
You wanna know one of the
fires I worked there?
West Haddon Street.
I know what you did
in that church.
And maybe with your uncle as
assistant chief of this unit,
nobody has the guts
to say it, but I will.
I don't have a problem
with firemen with handcuffs.
I have a problem with firemen
who are a menace.
Hey, for the record,
I've never asked a thing of my uncle.
You can go back to work now.
Hey, Maggie Rening.
Yeah.
So, let me guess.
Four years on an engine?
Five.
Do you actually know anything
about this work?
Arson bad, right?
- Hey, wait up!
- Stop!
Come on. We gotta hit
the Hunters before dark.
Hurry up, lazybones!
I'll trade you one
candy bar for that jawbreaker.
Come on.
Your turn to knock.
Hey, ask her for extra.
Hey, ask her for extra.
Mrs. Hunter?
We're here.
Eric, knock louder.
Eric, knock again.
Louder! BOY 4: Is anyone home?
Try the door.
I hope Mrs. Hunter
made cookies.
Walk into their house.
Trick-or-treat!
Mrs. Hunter?
- There you go, sir.
- Thanks.
Extra lamb spleen,
right?
Can't believe you're still
wearing that coat.
He was my father.
And he was my brother.
You stalking me?
Doesn't take Sherlock
Holmes to find you.
All you gotta do is follow the
stench of the Sean lunch special.
- This conversation have a point?
- Yeah.
Yeah.
You can't keep breaking balls
for every single captain
who does a spin
down at Arson.
And is this my uncle
or AC talking?
Take your pick.
Well, I'm a big boy,
I can handle him.
Who's increasingly isolating
himself down there.
Well, I didn't join
for the bowling league.
See you around.
We got a hit.
Okay.
Don't talk,
just listen to me,
the building, the fire, everything, okay?
Yes?
Yo. Five so far.
All kids outside
trick-or-treating.
One, we think,
tried the door handle and, uh...
- Christ.
- Yeah.
Let's go.
We're packing up here.
- Yo, we clear in there?
- Yeah, we're clear.
Break those couplings.
Roll the wet stuff.
No sign
of an incendiary device,
yet the door blew
when they opened it.
So, a backdraft.
Hey, if you can't just listen to the
building before you're even in it,
you may as well do us both a favor
and go wait in the truck. All right?
Six, get your ladders picked
up and give 17 a hand with any hoses.
Okay, Rening.
So, what are you thinking?
Electrical short
in the plug.
Well, the fire certainly
visited the plug,
but there's no way
it started there.
Intense heat crazing,
V-shaped smoke stain.
It checks a lot of boxes.
Well, checklists only
cover the physics of the fire.
You also have to understand
what it wants.
Nothing around that plug
that would excite a fire,
and this fire was excited.
Look at the glass.
If the fire did actually
start in the plug,
it would've lingered there for a while,
got the lay of the land,
looked for more fuel.
That would've melted
the glass evenly,
not lopsided like that.
That requires extreme heat
coming from one direction.
You know what?
You're right.
The fire did visit the plug,
but it's either a side effect
or the real deal,
or someone pre-rigged it to
make us think it started there.
The lower half of the room
where our plug is
isn't as burned
as the upper walls.
Means the fire spent
more time high than low,
so it must've
entered high somehow.
Wait a second. The fire
didn't start in the room.
It came in through the ducts
from somewhere else.
Pooling.
Hot enough to scar metal,
but leave no molten trace.
Watch your step.
That's the furnace.
The ignition point's
at the bottom of that mess.
Get digging.
- Thanks.
- Well, enjoy.
And you?
Me? I'm gonna get dessert.
Watch your backs!
So, I got four unsolved kids
on my desk, or what?
If you could count, that's five.
And I don't know yet.
Mmm. They burn,
they're yours.
A lot of dead kids.
Yeah, too many.
Anybody found
the owners yet?
Looks like nobody was home.
Touhy's running down
title records.
Well, listen, we can't let this
become a shitshow with the press.
You understand?
So, what I need from you ASAP
is cause, all right?
Was it homicide, was it arson?
Yeah.
Hey.
Are we on the same page?
It started
in the air conditioning.
Then used the ducts
to get through the house.
- Uh-huh.
- Ugh.
I need a little light.
Breaker didn't trip.
The plastic sheathing on the
calibration screw's missing.
Set wrong, it could cause a power
surge and overload the mechanism.
Discoloration shows
that this cable here
experienced the highest
temperatures.
Now, if the heat source
came from within the cable
as an electrical overload,
it would melt the plastic
insulation against it.
But if not, then the heat source
came from outside the cable,
as in a splash of gasoline.
Somebody splashed it.
Looks like somebody
splashed it
to make it look like
an accidental overload
if nobody bought the shorted plug in
the other room as an ignition point.
Chief McCaffrey,
is he your uncle?
Yeah, technically.
What do we got? Or not?
Medical examiner's only done soot-or-shot
prelims on the bodies so far.
We got five males
all under 15.
Hmm.
What killed them?
In the prelim opinion of the ME,
the fire killed them.
All right,
that's five deaths on us.
Or, uh, you,
to be exact.
Well, if it's fire,
I think I'm done here?
What do you think, Sean?
Murder?
It's too early.
But I gotta tell you, I'm gonna have a
hard time calling "accidental" on this.
What I don't gotta tell you is that
there ain't a single Naugahyde jockey
down at city hall
that wants to call this arson.
Not the mayor,
who's already got
a serious problem with his
homicide rate this year,
not the PD
and sure as hell not us.
ATF coming in on this?
No, I think
it's safe to say
that Sean buggered that
relationship for all time.
Who, Kunz?
The guy's an asshole.
He couldn't pour piss
out of a turnout boot
with the instructions on the heel.
What about the family?
The Hunters, Rod and Jan,
married, no kids.
We can't find them yet.
I'll tell you what
we're not gonna do.
Until we find the Hunters and
we have a solid determination
on cause and origin,
we're not gonna say shit.
Nobody utters the "A" word,
got it?
Now, tell me one true thing.
Canvass gave us a lot
of half-sentences.
There's maybe a gang
hitting houses in the area.
The DOT camera
at the intersection
might give us
video surveillance of a car.
You ID the car, you move.
I want these jag-offs off
the street instantly, right?
Mmm. Sure.
By the way, who are you?
Maggie Rening.
- Rening?
- She's detailed to Sean.
Rening.
Well,
that's a beautiful thing.
Now the OFI is officially
the Island of Broken Toys.
Freaks who did this with a ribbon
on top before we say a word.
Yup.
Whoa, whoa.
Hey, I get growled at enough
at work. All right?
...in North Side's
Lincoln Park,
in the wake of tonight's
devastating explosion
that took the lives of five
young trick-or-treaters
as they simply went asking
for some candy on Halloween.
Neighborhood families
have been leaving flowers
and notes of condolence,
wondering just how this could have happened.
Fire officials are still
investigating the townhouse
that burst into flames
without warning.
The owners of the home,
Rod and Jan Hunter,
have not yet been located,
and fire officials are asking
for anyone with information
on the Hunters' whereabouts
to contact them.
Speculation about the cause of
the fire is on everyone's mind.
City council members
are demanding answers.
Was it an accident,
or is this a case of arson?
One thing is for certain,
the lives of five Lincoln Park
families and this community
will never be
the same again.
Reporting live...
Sean!
Sean!
Sean!
I just don't buy you were drawn
all the way down that ducting.
Not on your own.
You don't hunt that way.
Shit.
They made you lie.
All right.
What?
What, are you moving in?
How'd you get...
Burning things
don't bother you, huh?
Hey! No more of that,
all right?
No more of that.
Yeah, that's better.
There you go.
Okay, this isn't what
it looks like.
I'm just randomly throwing food out there,
all right?
Rening. Rening.
You know,
I did my homework.
There was a firefighter
named Rening, right,
who got two commendations in a single
year for making live snatches in fires.
I mean, wow, that's gotta be
some kind of record, right?
It isn't.
People don't join the fire
department to carry a gun.
They move to OFI
either because
they're so busted up they
can't do line work anymore
or they can't get arson
out of their bones,
and you clearly
aren't either.
Yeah? Well, which are you?
Me? I rise above
all categories.
Maybe you're both.
Why are you here, Rening?
They didn't do it.
Lieutenant Doyle
ID'd their plate near the scene
off the intersection camera.
They had gas and pry bars
in the car.
Look, I don't doubt these yoyos
were up to something, somewhere,
but it wasn't that building.
What makes you so sure?
Because these goofballs
had gasoline in the car.
Gasoline's amateur hour.
It burns twice as hot,
bashes around like a bull in a china shop
and puts itself out
in half the time.
Look, gas chromatograph
came back on the wiring,
and there's benzyl nitrate
all over it, not gasoline,
with just enough sprinkles
of linoleum to hide the BZ
but not enough
to confirm a splash.
Now, BZ is what the pros use, okay?
It burns cool,
takes longer to bite,
but when it does,
it holds on like a Gila monster.
Whoever did this is smart enough
to try and fake a fried plug,
is also smart enough to throw us a
basement breaker panel overload,
if we got past that,
and smarter still to trick the fire
using the BZ up into the ducting
while hiding it with linoleum
hydrocarbon signatures.
Whoever did this is smarter than
anyone I've come up against.
Not the smartest.
He's been locked up
behind bars for decades.
Ronald Bartel.
Takes it to a whole
'nother level.
- Ronald Bartel.
- Don't worry about it.
Hey, Doyle. The Hunters
are still missing.
I feel your pain.
Okay, well, I need you to put
more manpower into finding them.
Why would I go anywhere near it?
They burn, they're yours.
One of the kids
didn't die by fire.
What? I thought you were
selling a backdraft for them.
The door killed him.
That's blunt force trauma.
No, you wouldn't.
Not even you.
What, you wanna see
how many of those little souls
I can dump
in your lap? Hmm?
- Okay, I'll put a team on it.
- Attaboy.
Ah, Jesus Christ.
What are you
doing here, Kunz?
I thought you'd be working
igloo fires in Alaska
after the last
fucked-up call you made.
ATF, OFI Insurance Task Force.
What, and they
put you on it?
Well, who they didn't was you.
Who's this?
- Maggie Rening.
- Hi.
So what are you doing sticking
your beak into my fire?
High-profile burn. It makes sense the
city might want a second opinion.
Oh, and the ATF just happens
to have enough budget
to randomly throw extra man-hours
at somebody else's fire?
Two guys walk into a building.
One walks out.
You know something, Kunz?
You always trusted
your CIs too much.
You know what,
I still clear cases.
And I do it without
jerking off to fire.
Yeah, yeah.
Stay away from my burn.
You always make this
many friends in a day?
Hey, I was just
heading out to dinner.
Thought you might
wanna come.
Uh, I got plans.
It's your
mother's birthday.
Well, send my best.
You'll be missed.
Again.
Yeah. Well, talk to her
husband about that.
Mmm.
You know, Sean,
I think about those days,
about your dad,
all the time.
Ah. Yeah. Well, thanks for trying
to take the shot. I'll call Mom.
But you still won't come.
Like I said, I got plans.
You scare him, you know.
I'm sorry, what?
That old man.
Oh, no, we're friends.
I come here all the time.
He owns the place.
I've, uh,
seen you here before.
He's freaked out by you.
Uh, no. I helped him out
a while back.
We're buddies.
Helped him, huh?
Please, tell me.
How?
Uh...
Well, he kept having
kitchen fires.
So I staked it out and found
out it was a competing diner
down the street pouring
grease down the roof exhaust.
So, caught the bad guys.
That's it.
And the owner was grateful.
Yeah, sure.
So he told you to come by.
Yeah. I can think here.
So you do,
come by anytime?
Whoa... I'm sorry.
Who are you?
Jenny.
Are you a cop?
Uh... Fireman.
Well, sort of.
Arson investigator. You?
Geologist.
Come on, really?
Okay. All right.
Wow. Geologist.
So, uh, how do you know
old Tommy over there?
'Cause he's my father.
Uh... Shit.
We don't talk anymore.
Oh, you just hang out here?
Pop quiz. Who are you?
- Oh. Really?
- Really.
Oh, wow. Okay. Um...
Well, uh, I'm the son
and grandson of dead firemen.
I investigate arson,
not because I like fire
but because I understand it.
A distinction without a difference
to some of the people I work with.
What about you?
Uh... I am the only daughter
of a traditional father
who has disowned me
because I'm 30, unmarried
and work looking for oil in the
employ of foreign billionaires,
which, basically, in his eyes,
makes me an escort.
I burned my stepfather's
house down when I was a kid.
'Cause you understand fire,
not like it, right?
Ooh. Touche.
Uh... My father thinks I'm the reincarnated
son that he lost in a miscarriage.
Last time
I saw my father alive,
we were making breakfast
for my mom in the kitchen.
I can't remember the last
time I saw my mother.
Everyone I know is either
scared of or for me.
- I'm very good at what I do.
- I'm better.
All right.
Ooh. Shit.
Uh... Did that
just blow it?
Let's see.
Oh, that cop Doyle
hasn't found the Hunters yet,
but he sent over
what the PD has on them.
Anything interesting?
Couple's been through
a few bankruptcies.
DA opened up a case against the husband
for money laundering but dropped it.
Find out how much insurance
they carried.
Battalion three,
engine seven.
There's a two-story
commercial fire showing.
- Not much.
- Calling a working fire.
If anything,
the place was underinsured.
Smoke appears to be communicating
floors through a central core.
I'm seeing blue smoke
at the roof line.
Son of a bitch.
Battalion three, this is OFI 4-2-2 en route.
Stay put.
Aren't Touhy and Rickets up?
I know this asshole.
He pre-weakens the roof structure.
Blue smoke is a chemical ignition.
It'll go up the central core
and total the building.
We gotta get there and warn IC
before the whole thing
comes down.
Hey, Chief,
I'm sure it's a spark.
Tell your guys to get out
of the building now.
Make sure everyone's out of there.
Get them out, now.
Move! Move!
Give me the hose!
Give me the hose!
Stay there! Don't move!
Stop!
I said, stop!
Don't move!
- Freeze!
- Dude!
- Son of a bitch!
- Freeze! Freeze!
Pull back.
I told you, if you ever do that again,
I will kill you!
You stupid, dumb...
Stop. Stop!
You pathetic,
you for-hire torches,
you really think
fire dances for you?
Piece of shit!
Jeez, Sean!
It's impossible
to bust these assholes
without catching them
in the act,
and I had just about enough
of this piece of shit.
Sean, get a medic!
You hurt him.
Get an ambulance!
So you really pre-weaken
roof beams on your fires, huh?
It brings them down fast.
The clients like that.
No roof also means an insurance
total on the building.
It also traps firefighters.
I only do commercial vacants.
I don't kill people.
It's nice to know there's
still standards in the world.
Yeah, not like that freak show
in Lincoln Park.
The Halloween fire?
I wouldn't touch that
for three times the fee.
Did someone offer you a fee
for the Lincoln Park fires?
Look, it was just
in the wind.
All right, but like I said,
I don't burn people.
Our Sean fucking McCaffrey has
torched more guys than I have.
This offer in the wind.
Does it say why it wanted
the nice house burned?
This guy knew his arson.
It was twisted stuff.
You and Matchstick Charlie
have a nice little chat?
Somebody was trying to hire
out a burn on our townhouse.
That piss-ant
said that to you?
Well, I wasn't the one
pushing him through a window,
so, yeah, I guess so.
Excuse me, I need to speak to
the guy they brought in from the fire.
Not until he's been treated.
Okay.
He won't talk to you.
Oh, yeah? Why not?
Because I told him not to.
- Shit.
- There you go.
Hi, Sean.
- Who's this?
- This is Ronald Bartel,
deadliest arsonist in the city
since Mrs. O'Leary's cow.
Moo.
Nursing homes,
orphanages, probably 100 others
we'll never know about
since Ronald's specialty's
making them
look like accidents.
The littlest McCaffrey.
You never came to see me.
Your Uncle Brian did.
So, what are you doing
out of your cage, hmm?
I hoarded a lot of sugar,
ate it all at once.
I'm diabetic.
It's my secret
get-out-of-jail-free card.
Sit. We have so much
to talk about.
Yeah.
Lincoln Park.
You can't make
your fire work, can you?
You know in your bones
it has to be arson,
but you can't prove it,
and that's eating you alive.
- Go wait in the truck.
- What?
Do it.
This is absurd.
She's an arson investigator?
No!
She doesn't have the look.
Not like Rimgale did.
Not like you do.
How do you know
about my fire?
Oh, there are lots of us
around and about
who have an interest
in such things.
Some are guests of the State,
but some are not.
And some of them are surprisingly
good at hacking databases.
OFIs, for instance.
They hacked OFI's photos,
reports, conjectures,
and then they share them.
- Yeah.
- Want to share with me, Sean?
Come on.
All right, I'll share first.
Lincoln Park.
I read OFI's report,
and they said
there was
a "single ignition source."
That's idiocy.
Didn't they look
at your pictures? I did.
So much heat, Sean,
driven through the ducting so fast
that it gobbled up enough
oxygen to create a backdraft.
Somebody's got a secret
in there.
And you know what, Ronald?
You're gonna tell me.
No. Sharing's a process,
and we take turns.
That was my turn to share.
Now it's yours.
I want you to share with me
a fire at, uh...
West Haddon Street.
By the time you finally
cornered Wicek in there,
he'd burned down how many churches by then?
Eight, right?
You paused when you saw it,
didn't you?
Just for an instant,
just to admire it.
Because Wicek had created
a real work of art.
And he brought out
the dragon.
The dragon was talking to you,
Sean, and you were listening
and you understood
what the dragon was saying.
Sure you paused.
You couldn't resist.
God, to have been there.
The greatest arson duel
in history.
Oh. Oh.
Oh, my goodness. Oh, my goodness.
Oh, my goodness.
Hmm.
I have one more question.
Isn't it my turn
for questions?
Yeah. Okay. All right.
I'll ask it after.
To get that much heat moving
that fast through the ducting
would've required the laying
out of additional accelerant.
But you didn't see any signs of that,
did you?
So, the answer had to be
a second ignition source.
But you looked for it,
and you couldn't find it,
could you?
And you checked
for everything.
Absolutely everything.
Did you check for celluloid
and mercury?
See? Sharing can be good
for you.
Wait! I said
I had a question!
I know how lonely it can be
for a person like you.
Did you and Ronald
catch up on old times?
Hey, listen.
Those circular burns on the ducts?
They were made by a one-time cell
igniter powered by a microbattery.
It was consumed by the fire.
I can't believe I missed it.
Okay.
Let's go.
Sean?
Sean?
Ghosts with fire-like eyes.
Sean!
They're me.
- I'm them.
- Sean!
Sean.
Dodged animal control
one more night, huh?
What are you doing, huh?
Really?
So, you start
in the air con unit,
slow, finding your rhythm.
Then you're led
through the ducts.
You're hungry.
You know it's bait, but you bite.
BZ, second cellulose igniter
kept you traveling
through the ducts at speed.
But you never managed
a gulp of air.
A house this old, this loose?
You should've gotten
around a window,
a chink in the wall,
found more oxygen and kept going.
Something trapped you.
Strangled you,
made you lose your mind.
Left you lying here
silently for hours,
a thousand degrees,
all dressed up and nowhere to go.
Whatcha got? Huh?
Whatcha got?
You smelling
something strange?
That's how
they trapped you.
They sealed off the air and turned the
whole room into a frustration box.
You always do off-duty investigations
in the middle of the night?
It's the way I work.
What's your excuse?
Oh, you have a dog.
A stray. A stray with skills,
apparently.
Hmm.
The stray have a name?
Well, if he had a name,
he'd be mine.
You know,
I kept checking on you.
Nobody likes to talk
about it, though, right?
Big hero, saving a kid not once but twice
before you even had three years on.
I mean, articles
in The Tribune, awards.
Face of the new department.
But if you sniff hard enough,
and I did,
it turns out there's this
whole other story, right?
This firefighter
who starts stealing things
from the apartments
she's been fighting fires in.
I mean, come on, man,
what is that?
That's like being a fucking
child molester on this job.
What was it, hmm?
All that attention,
all those expectations
make you wanna do bad things
and hurt yourself?
You know what? You got just enough
juice from all those awards,
they give you one last shot and
move you away from Suppression
and into OFI because we don't
do charity here, right?
You don't know me.
- Oh, but I think I can guess.
- Yeah?
Maybe you know all about
the, uh, pressure of rumors?
Ah.
Plumber's putty. They sealed off
the air exchange points with it.
Burns clean under the heat.
I would've missed it
if it weren't for that mutt.
So they wanted the house
interior to burn completely.
Yeah.
I got nowhere else
to go, okay?
Nowhere.
And what do you
want me to do about it?
I can be good at this.
Okay. All right.
What does all this
say to you, hmm?
That it's a hell of
a lot of trouble
just to go after a couple
that wasn't even home.
Yeah, you see, I don't think
it was ever about the owners.
I think it was
about the house itself.
Somebody didn't need it burned,
they needed it erased.
Now, why don't you go home
and think about that.
I'll see you tomorrow.
So you got anything
on the Hunters or not?
Like I emailed
your partner here,
some chaotic finances
mainly to do with their tech company,
Hunter Systems.
What does
Hunter Systems make?
A subcontractor
in some kind of, uh, NATO...
Where the hell is it...
NATO AIM-120
missile upgrade.
There have been quality control
issues over DoD quality specs.
Hunters have been
shifting money around,
trying to keep the company going
until they can sort it out.
They're in trouble,
they're not.
The DoD, the DA and the feds can't
seem to make up their minds.
We've been over this
with the police
and our project
supervisors at DoD.
Nobody's seen or heard
from Jan and Rod Hunter
since the fire
at their townhouse.
Did Rodger Hunter normally spend
a lot of time at the office?
Depended on where
we were in development.
It's his company.
Were they having problems
with production?
I can't get into specifics,
but there were
redesign requests
on the missile's seeker
head optics.
That's the part
of the AIM-120 we do.
And there was the fire,
of course.
Fire?
On our test bed.
The techs were doing
our first integrated run
on a fully
functional prototype
of the new AIM Raytheon
sent over.
Unfortunately, a fire
broke out after hours
and the prototype
was destroyed.
It's caused a delay
and slowed our cash flow.
- Were you insured?
- Of course.
The fire was determined
accidental.
Our insurance
company, though,
have been slow
in our payments.
Why?
They're an insurance company.
Who investigated the fire?
We're in a small suburb here with
a volunteer fire department.
They don't have
an arson office.
Since we're on a fed contract,
they sent someone over from ATF.
ATF guy have a name?
Ralph Kunz.
I think we're gonna need to
have a look at that fire scene.
Banged itself inside,
looking for a breath of air just
like the Hunters' townhouse.
Can I use the word?
Backdraft?
Guess we just did.
Show me where the investigator
tagged the origin of the fire?
Over there.
What is it?
A cooling plant.
Rocket was unarmed,
of course.
The solid fuel
went off in the heat.
There was basically
nothing left after.
Why do I think
if we scrape this,
we're gonna find traces
of BZ and linoleum?
Kind of convenient the
building happens to go off
when they have
a missile prototype in there.
Why burn
their own building?
Well, if the Department of Defense
were having quality control issues,
it could slow down
an investigation.
Insurance money would help
hold them over.
Only the insurance company
is slowly walking a payment.
It's probably because
they're as suspicious
of Kunz's accidental call
as we are.
- McCaffrey.
- Doyle.
Auto fire you might be
interested in
in a lot right now
off Kedzie. Just saying.
Copy that.
We're on our way.
- That the Hunters?
- It's their car.
Gonna take dental or DNA to confirm their ID,
but I'm taking bets on yes.
Probably lured here to meet someone,
or they were dumped.
Passing uniforms came on it
already burning.
- If it burns, it's yours.
- Yeah.
Easy.
t's still a crime scene.
Jesus, Kunz,
you're like a bad penny.
You wanna tell me what you're doing
nosing around a car fire in my city?
Talk to the badge.
The gold federal one
over there.
- McCaffrey.
- Agent Johnson.
Is there someplace around here
we could get something to eat?
You know Hunter Systems
was on the bankruptcy bubble
with this
missile subcontract.
Rod Hunter was grabbing money anywhere
he could to keep the doors open.
Hang on. So you're thinking
insurance fraud on the fire
that burned the missile?
Oh, I'm pretty sure Hunter
had somebody light it
regardless what the ATF comes up with,
but not for the insurance.
The AIM-120 missile
was a big deal.
Next-gen seeker heads could take
out any peer air force fighter.
Thank you.
A lot of alarm bells went off
in the Pentagon after the fire.
DoD inspectors
swarmed the place,
did a thorough on the
missile parts that survived.
There wasn't much,
but enough to spot
that what had burned
in that test bed was a mockup
substituted
for the real prototype.
Then cue the wife.
Soon as she realizes DoD
isn't buying the switch,
she walks into my office
and cops to the whole thing.
How her husband planned
to shop the real one
with all its spooky
next-generation technology
to certain
unsavory middlemen
who would then market its specs to
any unpleasant foreign entities
- willing to pay plenty for them.
- Wait, hang on.
So, uh, Hunter handed over the
missile to these middlemen?
That's the thing.
Turns out the wife moved it someplace else
without telling her husband
or that she'd come to us
for a deal.
She promised us
all the evidence
and the missile's location
on a hard drive
in exchange for immunity.
And then they disappeared.
So, our unsavory middlemen
probably paid Rod,
and when he couldn't deliver the
prototype because wifey moved it,
well, I'm imagining they
worked them over pretty good
- before lighting up that car.
- Yeah, right.
Which I'm guessing also means
she probably told them
where the missile
really was.
But given their bodies
were only dumped today,
they may have been on the run till now,
which means it's possible
our bad guys haven't yet been
able to move the prototype.
With something that big,
you can't just put it
in checked luggage.
They're gonna have to move it through
a shipping port to a third country.
And we've got devices
that can sniff out
hydroxyl polybutadiene propellant
deployed at all likely exit points.
Hang on. There's no way
they found the hard drive.
That's why
they used a backdraft.
Okay, look, backdraft cooks
for hours before it blows,
thoroughly incinerates
any evidence inside.
They had to be sure.
It's possible they killed her before she
said anything about working with us.
If so, we want
their guard down enough
we can catch them when they
try to move the prototype.
Five kids died
in that fire.
I wanna catch
the assholes that did it.
Not declaring it arson,
at least not yet,
will help me do that.
Oh, and I suppose it not
being arson spares the DoD
and its contractors from having to
publicly explain that they let slip
a top-secret missile to our country's
enemies has got nothing to do with it?
Come on.
Accidental fire, I imagine,
makes a whole lot of conversations go away,
right?
Look, we want
the same thing as you.
You know, it's funny.
When people say that, they don't.
What the heck?
Somebody's been here.
Coin-flip, I bet it was our FBI
buddies looking for the hard drive.
You know, I don't care
what the Hunters were doing
with their money
or their missile,
but when someone chose fire
to cover their tracks,
they made a big mistake.
I'm sorry for your loss.
Eric.
Such a sweet child.
So bright.
You could never
be mad at him.
You were
too busy laughing.
When we moved here,
Eric made fast friends
with my son.
Hey. Hey.
Did you, uh,
know the Hunters?
Eric did.
Me and him, we used to get
cookies from her sometimes.
Were you ever at the house?
We buried
our dinosaurs there,
but Mrs. Hunter got
really, really mad at us.
So, she said that
if we wanted to dig,
we had to go play
in the park.
The kid was right.
Dug it out of the Hunters' yard.
Looks water-damaged.
Get Doyle's IT guy on the phone
and see what he can pull off this.
And tell him to keep
a lid on it for now.
So, do I get detective points
for finding the hard drive?
Well, a few more and I might try
harder to remember your name.
We treat canines as
if they are fellow human beings
with all the thoughts and emotions
and behaviors of a family member.
It's our closest and most enduring
relationship with another species.
We share our lives, our homes,
even our beds with them.
All right,
what do you reckon, hmm?
Something strange is going on
Don't look at me like that.
It's house special.
You might hurt your eyes
when you look into the skies
There you go.
No parties after 11:00.
Something strange is going on
Okay, so, Jan Hunter's hard
drive was corrupted by moisture.
IT was able to pull
some chunks off it,
some coherent,
some not so much.
But our job today is to go through
these printouts of the hard drive
and see if anything
connects to our fire.
Find the missile,
we find our arsonist.
Rening.
Christ! This shit is garbled.
What are these numbers here?
Could be measurements,
but I can't make the
dimensions make any sense.
It might be a code?
Looks like it was linked to some
Hunter Systems entry she made.
Wait a second.
This isn't feet and inches.
Guys, this is minutes
and seconds.
This is coordinates,
lat and long.
For where?
It's the main shipping
office for Slick-X Couriers.
I think I need
to see that warrant.
I'll get it.
Scuff marks.
Well, that's certainly
big enough to hold a missile.
What the fuck?
Son of a bitch.
Shit.
Same trigger
as the Hunters' house.
Freeze!
Don't you fucking move!
Now, I know most of the arsonists
in this city, but I don't know you.
Who are you working for?
Who paid you?
Everybody. Nobody.
We don't give a shit,
and we don't ask who.
You really don't know shit.
Ronald is wrong about you.
Shut the fuck up.
You're breaking this place
to burn evidence.
Don't be stupid.
We're cops.
You're just a fireman
who walked in the wrong room.
Get back! Look out!
Go! Move!
Get in the closet.
Keep your head down!
Keep your head down.
We gotta get out of here.
He knows if he moves he'll
trigger a flashover. And right now,
the fire's settling
into a stable exchange.
This is about one thing and one thing only,
and that's timing.
You understand?
The spark in him knows to stay put,
but the man inside
is screaming, "Run."
- Let him move first.
- You're out of your mind.
Look at me!
You gotta trust me, okay?
No matter what it looks like,
when I say go,
you let him move first. Wait, wait!
Let him move first.
Wait! Wait!
Okay, go! Go!
Sean!
Waiting for the dragon.
Sean!
Feel it breathe.
Sean!
I see you.
Sean!
Sean!
Sean! I made it out!
I made it out.
Help me!
- Please! Help!
- Shit.
Please help me! Please!
Help!
Help me!
Please!
Please help me! Please!
- Okay. You're on your own?
- My daddy's the manager.
Okay, you're gonna be all right.
I'm gonna get you out of here.
- Daddy.
- Okay, hold on tight.
Hold on.
I got you. Hold tight.
Seventeen, let's go!
Let's go!
Go, go, go!
Hang on! Hang on!
I got you.
- Hold on! Hold on, don't look down!
- Sean.
- Don't look down. I got you.
- Help!
Seventeen, let's move it!
Let's go!
Come on.
Don't give up
on me, buddy! Come on!
Come on.
Keep going! That's it!
Listen. I've got you,
all right.
- Come on.
- All right.
Sean!
Firefighter down!
Firefighter down!
Everything is gonna be all right. I got you.
Sean? Can you hear me?
Sean!
Fuck.
Look what I found.
Any busted bones?
How the hell
should I know?
Rening make it out okay?
She's fine.
She's up with the rigs.
I'm gonna need some help
getting out of here.
I'd say so.
Like, now.
You know, actually,
I was thinking
we'd have a little chat.
Jesus Christ, you're insane.
Would you just get me out of here?
Think we got all night,
unless you're bleeding internally,
or, uh, this wall
comes down on you.
My God, this family's
so fucked up.
Okay, Uncle,
what's on your mind?
How much longer you gonna keep
blaming me for Stephen's death?
Well, we got all night,
right?
You weren't there
that night, Sean.
You don't know what happened.
I know as soon as you could,
you moved out of Suppression
because you don't have it
in the belly.
Not like your brother
or your father.
Or you?
Hey, fuck you.
I would've beat it.
Or you might've wound up dead
like everybody else
- in this goddamn family.
- Why don't you
just tell me what happened?
Because, Sean,
there are things about that day that
nobody's supposed to know.
Sean, you gotta trust me.
There's nothing I could've done,
nothing, about that day.
Bullshit, bullshit!
You were there.
You could've saved him.
Don't you understand?
I need to know what happened.
Brian, I always have.
Sean.
Your father died trying
to save his best friend.
But his best friend
was an arsonist.
Adcox was an arsonist.
Sean...
If there's one thing I've
learned it's that there's
more to life than hanging onto
this family bullshit,
this dysfunction over and over
and over, this...
Come on.
I just...
I hope you can find a way to
move forward from this, man.
Before it's fucking too late.
Sounds like that wall's
about to come down.
It sure is.
Not that we care,
though, right?
As, you know, McCaffreys?
Let's get you out of here.
Hey, 17!
I got him, 17!
I got him!
Son of a bitch up there.
No confession.
No evidence.
Not even a fucking name.
You're amazing.
What?
You just walked
through fire,
saved a kid, swan dived,
what, three stories?
And walked away.
That's the best this job ever gets.
Trust me, I know.
You know, when I had
those two saves,
nothing could touch me, man.
Until it did.
That was later.
But in the moment,
when it belonged to just me,
I howled at the moon
- at the sheer awesomeness of it.
- Yeah.
You? You're sitting around drinking,
thinking about arson.
What the hell
is wrong with you?
What's wrong with me?
I'll tell you what's wrong with me.
I suck at being a fireman.
I suck at the camaraderie and
the storytelling and the whole
"We happy few,
let's go wrestle old man fire" bullshit.
I'll never have my
grandfather's sense of duty
or my father's charisma
or my uncle's weird,
fucked-up sense of perspective.
I'll always blow at just about
everything to do with this job
except for one part,
and that's beating fire.
I mean, I don't cry enough
about what I see.
I don't know anybody's name.
I don't give a fuck about
99% of the people
wasting oxygen around me,
but, nobody,
nobody puts away
more arsonists than I do.
You know, maybe all that
makes me a bad fireman
or maybe, just maybe,
it makes me the best one here.
You know, I really don't
give a shit which one it is.
To two firefighters who suck
at being firefighters.
Hey, Mom.
I'm okay.
All his visitors,
last 12 months.
Okay.
So, who are you?
Do I hear
a McCaffrey out there?
Where are you going, Sean?
You going back
to West Haddon Street?
Sean?
Sean!
Sean!
Sean.
Sean!
Sean?
What? Were all
the bowling alleys closed?
Department's trying to declare
the Hunter fire undetermined.
You kidding me?
If the evidence isn't there...
Hey, I wasn't talking to you.
Listen, I'm investigator
of record here.
I'm not gonna
sign off on that.
You're not the lead
on the case anymore, Sean.
But you can't do that,
not without cause.
That spark you dangled
out the window,
he filed
a battery complaint.
Fucking Christ,
this is bullshit!
Yeah?
Plus they got witnesses
that overheard Rening
yelling at you about it.
That wasn't...
Look, I didn't mean...
The guy's a fucking arsonist. He
lit the building that burned him.
But whatever, okay?
Let him file.
I'll beat it
with my eyes closed.
Just don't take me
off my burn.
- Already done.
- Kunz.
I swear to fucking God.
Soto wants more liaison
between OFI and ATF anyway,
so he's gonna let them
run with it for now.
With this asshole?
Two guys walk in,
one walks out.
I'm not happy about it
either, okay? At all.
But, for now, it's done.
You're on admin leave until they make
a determination on the battery...
Damn it!
Fucking everybody!
Everybody from Chief Soto to the
FBI to the whole goddamn world
wants this to be anything
but arson.
Everybody but the mothers
of those children.
Come on, Brian,
don't do this. I am so close.
Maybe if you bit your tongue
every once in a while,
your career dissipation light
wouldn't be flashing right now.
The trouble
with biting my tongue is
I always seem to end up
with a mouthful of blood.
Take some time, Sean.
- Cool off.
- Whatever.
Fucker!
- Hey. Is everything okay?
- Hey.
Can we just stay in tonight?
I need to see you.
Can they really do that?
I guess they just did.
Did you ever crack
what those numbers were?
Nope. Just a part of it,
a bunch of locations across the city,
but we don't even know
how they connect.
Did anyone suggest
cell tower loggings?
What do you mean?
Just something I saw
on oil projects in Saudi.
Rather than guard
every project,
they would put trackers
on the machinery.
Hang on, what?
They had
built-in accelerometers
that activated
when it was moved.
When it got in range of a cell tower,
it would start phoning home.
This looks a lot like
the same thing.
Did the Hunters
put a cell-based tracker
on the crate
you're looking for?
Uh... I don't know.
The wife might've done.
Hey, listen, can you check
with a cell phone company,
see if any of those numbers
you sent me match towers?
Yeah, all right,
call me back.
Are they gonna run it down?
Hopefully. I'm not allowed
near it for now.
But, Christ, Jenny,
that's amazing.
Have you named him yet?
Well, if he had
a name, he'd be mine.
What is it?
Hey. Hey, wake up.
Wake up.
Shit.
Hey, Jenny.
Jenny, wake up.
Mmm. What?
- Hey, wake up.
- What's going on? What's that smell?
- Hey, hey! Don't move.
- What?
Listen to me.
Listen to me.
That's gas. It's coming up
through the floorboards.
Look at me. I'm not
fucking around, okay?
There's a contact switch
under the bed that's just set.
- If we get up, it's gonna blow.
- Blow?
Easy. Listen to me.
Now, I can keep
my weight on it, okay?
And you can ease out,
but take it slow. Okay?
You can do it.
Slow. Go on.
Go on.
Easy, easy, easy, easy, easy!
Let me get over.
There you go.
Easy.
Okay, stop, stop, stop.
All right.
All right, come on.
Okay, now get out of here
and call the fire station.
What, just leave you here?
Jenny, listen to me.
- I can't.
- Listen to me!
The sooner
you make that call,
the better chance
I have, okay?
Go! Come on!
God damn it. Fuck.
You could've
warned me earlier.
Don't look at me like that.
Odds would've been better at the pound, pal.
Just saying.
He's in the bedroom.
Stay out here.
Shit, Sean.
- Engine 36 is on the way.
- What, Hector?
- Second shift. Masey.
- Okay.
Oh, shit. They got you
all rigged up down here.
Is that gas?
Yeah,
they probably tricked it from the stove line
into a shaped pocket to blow
upwards when it's released.
What do I do?
I try not to think about
what you're gonna do.
Hey! No, wait.
Where are you going?
I'm gonna try
and cut it off at the main.
No, don't. They probably
booby-trapped it
in case I smelled the gas
before the plate timer set.
Listen, if Masey knows
what he's doing,
he can use his shoring blocks
to slowly replace my weight
and get me off it
before the plate timer...
Oh, shit!
- What'd you do?
- I don't know.
Maybe there's a secondary timer.
I'm not sure.
I'm gonna shut it off
down here.
Brian, get out!
Brian, just get out
of the building!
Just do me a favor.
Shut up and don't move.
No, Brian, don't be stupid.
Get out!
I'm gonna draw the gas
down here away from you.
No! Brian,
get out of the building!
I'm not letting
another McCaffrey die.
Listen to me. You'll watch two
if you don't get out now.
Sorry. Not again.
Brian! Get out!
Brian!
Present arms!
You were right.
The numbers correspond
to cell towers.
We monitored
the frequency.
The last few hits
have been near Calumet.
It must be far
from the tower
because the search circle
is way too large.
Takes in half the storage
areas south of the city.
Nobody's got the manpower to
search that many storage yards.
And with the ATF on the fire
and Kunz's undetermined call,
we got no writ.
It's up to the feds now.
Look, to hell with downtown
and the feds.
Orders or not,
whatever you want,
whatever you need.
We're here to help you
finish this, Sean.
There's something
I gotta do first.
Thanks.
Wow.
A cat fall on your head?
Did you bring the sugar?
No, I didn't
bring you sugar.
I just came here
for one thing.
You're so mean.
I'm sorry about
your Uncle Brian.
I read what they wrote
about him in OFI...
- Yeah.
- He seemed like he was very nice.
I just met him once.
So, what's your one thing?
The two arson pros that came to see you,
who were they working for?
Which foreign
intelligence agency
were they gonna sell
that package to?
Russians? Chinese?
Really?
Wow.
They didn't say anything
about that to me.
Okay, well,
what did they want?
What did...
They just wanted what all
would-be dragon tamers want.
They wanted an opportunity
to sit with the man they know
knows how to converse
with the dragon.
Hang on. Did you help them
with the Lincoln Park fire?
Sean, no!
No! I have a reputation.
I just talked to them
about the dragon.
Okay, so how
were they gonna
ship their package
out of the country?
Package?
Why would they talk to me
about that?
Because the language of these people is fire,
right?
Oh. They don't speak
the language of fire.
Not like we do.
Yeah, you and I don't speak
the same language.
Oh, come on, Sean.
Of course we do.
You love to speak
with the dragon. So do I.
And the dragon loves to speak
with us, and you know it.
And poor Rimgale.
That's all he ever wanted.
But the dragon
wouldn't dance for him.
It's true.
Just you and me, Sean.
When your Uncle Brian and
Rimgale came to see me in here,
they came to interview
the devil.
You knew that if you were ever
going to come in here to see me,
you knew it was your alter
ego that you'd be seeing.
You would be seeing
another you.
Hi, another me.
All right, look,
just level with me.
How are they getting the
package out of Chicago?
I don't know anything
about a package.
Nothing. Okay?
But I will share
a story with you,
if you will share
a story with me.
God damn it.
Listen to me,
you son of a bitch,
this isn't
a conversation, okay?
All right. What story?
Two guys walk into a building,
one walks out.
You know what? Fuck you.
I told you
at the hospital
that I still had one more
question to ask.
The answer that you give could
be very cleansing for you, Sean.
He'd already lit his burn in the
church on West Haddon Street.
I imagine it must have been
very beautiful.
It was over-thought.
Lot of show,
but you could tell by its yammering
that it was unstable enough to knock
out with the right counter fire.
So,
I grabbed a gardener's can of mixed fuel,
and I splashed a response,
just a little.
But enough that both fires turned on
each other, away from the building
and ate
each other's tails. Poof.
Done.
And yet Wicek
was still consumed.
Yeah. He was.
So here's my question.
What did you feel
when Wicek caught fire?
Did you want him to burn?
Did you want
to burn them all?
You have no idea.
Oh. Oh, believe me,
I do.
I do.
I do, Sean.
Those two men
with the pretend names,
they wanted my opinion
of their notion
as to how they could best
trigger an accidental fire
at an exterior location.
Okay. What location?
Given the Kelvin required
for ignition was minimal.
Given the constraint
of mixed fuel.
Given the narrow
diameter piping.
Given all of that,
I would suggest that you
go looking for a location
with lots and lots of...
- Propane.
- Propane.
You're gone so soon?
Our minds are very similar,
except, of course,
you're insane.
There's a flame burning
in my heart and it's gonna grow
A flickering love light
turning on a glow
- McCaffrey.
- Our tracker
started phoning home again for
a few hours and then stopped.
It must have moved.
Good news,
it's also closer to a tower.
I emailed you
a search radius.
It's a lot smaller this time.
All right, can you check
the HAZMAT database
for any propane sources
in the area?
What are you up to, Sean?
Look, I'm not gonna have
anybody else get hurt. Okay?
Sean? Sean, are you there?
Short-term container holding only,
72 hours max.
Shipping companies use it to stage
upcoming deliveries for the port.
All right, thanks, man.
The temperature's
rising I've started realizing
The way you fill
my loving cup
It's just burning me up
It's missing a screw.
Shit.
Took some doing.
Yeah, I bet.
Sniffs missile propellant?
That's what the man said.
Ah. Oh, you'll need to find a battery for it,
and I was never here.
Thank you.
Just keep those dead kids
off my desk, huh?
Shipping to Nigeria?
There you are.
A lot of people
looking for you.
Come on, come on, come on.
What the hell
are you doing, Sean?
Surprise, surprise.
No diversion blast today.
What the hell's going on?
Should have
gone off by now.
It should have
blown already.
They're not just gonna let us drive
through with the goddamn load.
Hey! Show me your hands!
Show me your fucking hands!
Now, get out the fucking truck.
Go! Move!
Come on!
Show me your fucking hands.
Walk towards me slowly.
Slowly.
Keep coming. Walk towards me.
Walk towards me!
You, too,
show me your fucking hands.
Down, down, down. Down.
Keep those hands where I can see them.
Tank's not gonna
blow today, asshole.
You're both under arrest...
Stop!
God.
Maggie, no!
Fuck!
Oh, fuck.
Hey, asshole.
Do you really think
you can stop us?
Fuck you, man!
You wanna kill me?
Go ahead.
Maybe the missile's
in the container,
maybe it's halfway
to fucking China by now.
You'll never know.
You're full of shit.
Yeah?
Well, it wouldn't be
the first time.
Get up.
- Get up!
- Oh! Fuck.
Maggie, I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
All this worth
five dead kids, huh?
Shut up!
My buyers see their kids
die all the time.
So what's a few
American brats to them, huh?
Ronald's an
interesting guy, huh?
Full of useful ways
of setting fires.
Should've spoken
to him sooner.
Ah! Ah!
Fuck!
Rening!
Rening!
Sean.
Oh, my God.
Maggie, get up.
Get up. Come on!
You can make it.
You remembered it.
What?
My first name.
Isn't it beautiful?
You came back.
Mostly.
What are you doing?
- Thinking.
- About what?
Oh, maybe it wouldn't be
such a bad thing after all.
Be the first McCaffrey
to leave this job alive.
You're gonna need
a new place to live.
Yup.
Still got that extra room.
Above your
father's restaurant?
We don't talk anymore,
remember?
Yeah.
But, um, there'll have to be,
you know, less burning things.
Yeah.
He got a name yet?
Well, if he had a name,
he'd be mine. Right?
I'm focused
Engine 17, truck 46 respond.
3700 West Madison Avenue,
two-story commercial structure,
fully-involved fire,
reports of flames through the roof.
Locked and loaded
I got the feeling
that you know it
Yeah, I've only just begun
I won't stop until it's done
Till you're broken
So welcome to the fire
I'm the one with the lighter
Feel it burning
through your veins
As we're walking
through the flames
Getting higher
So welcome to the fire
Welcome to the fire
Feel it burning
through your veins
As we're walking
through the flames
Getting higher
So welcome to the fire
I've been waiting
for this moment
The final battle
of the chosen
See I'm never gonna quit
Got my legacy set in motion
So welcome to the fire
I'm the one with the lighter
Feel it burning
through your veins
As we're walking
through the flames
Getting higher
So welcome to the fire
Welcome to the fire
Feel it burning
through your veins
As we're walking
through the flames
Getting higher
The bigger they are
The harder they fall