01x05 - No Apologies

[bunniefuu]

The FAA
is still gathering information,

but at this point,
stress that all evidence points

to mechanical failure.

Washington's recent budget cuts
will put an end

to heightened
Coast Guard patrols

along the Southeastern seaboard.

Critics say the year-long
blockade has been credited

with hundreds of successful
search-and-seizures

of contraband, including...

We shouldn't have left her,

just lying dead there.

We called 911.

Still...

We couldn't stick around.

Margrave PD is dirty.

Who's to say that Atlanta
or Georgia State Police

aren't on Kliner's payroll, too?

The only way to make Molly
Beth's death mean something

is by catching
whoever k*lled her.

We can't do that
if we're sh*t dead

by crooked cops
or rotting away in jail

with her m*rder pinned on us.

Pull over.

What the hell are we doing?

Long story. Be right back.

It's okay.

What's he doing to you?

Collar's cutting him.

Enough of this.

What are you doing?

Dog didn't do anything
to anybody.

Doesn't deserve this.

I told you
to stay off my property!

Seriously?

Let's see how you like it.

- Let's go, boy.
- Come on.

Okay.

So, what are we gonna do now?

Take the dog
to a no-k*ll shelter,

then drop me off at Hubble's.

Why?

Last car they gave me
is full of b*llet holes.

Need a new one.

Okay, we'll see you at
the station house parking lot.

Hey. Are you okay?

I never should have let her
get involved.

That'll do.

How come your owner's buying
you and your pals so much feed?

Lot of help you are.

sh*t!

And so...
so I'm stuffing this sucker

full of M-80s, cherry bombs,
uh, ash cans...

- Bottle rockets.
- ...bottle rockets.

So, Dawson lights it.
We take off.

Mailbox explodes.

There's burning paper and metal
going everywhere, right?

Six months later,
we're at the Gas 'N Such,

and there's old man Slattery.

He's getting arrested
in the parking lot.

Bench warrant for not showing up
for jury duty.

There was a jury summons
in the f*ckin' mailbox.

And that's what he gets for
failing my ass in English lit.

Look, it's the w*r criminal.

Hey, you're hungry,
I'll buy you a meal, man.

You know, help out the homeless.

This is the guy that
I was talking to you about.

You know, uh,
you and my friend Emmitt here,

you actually got something
in common.

Both played college football.

Old Emmitt here was Georgia
State's starting tight end

for three years.

According to your records,
you played one game for Army.

What happened, man?
You couldn't hack it?

- They kicked me off.
- What for?

Being too violent.

You're interrupting our lunch.

Let me ask you something.

What kind of man are you?

A stupid man?

A bitter man?

Or are you just...

an insecure, spoiled rich boy
hiding behind Daddy's money?

It wasn't a rhetorical question.

I really want to know
what kind of man

enjoys intimidating
a woman half his size.

A woman who...

by the way,
is beyond intimidation.

I think I know
what kind of guy you are.

You're the kind of guy
that knows things.

You knew I'd come after you

when I saw what you did
to Roscoe.

You knew I'd see your truck
right outside.

A work truck whose bed's
never had anything in it

other than a keg.

And you knew I'd come in here
and cause a problem

that would most likely
get me in trouble.

But know what you don't know?

Mm. What's that?

What it feels like
when I hit you.

'Cause if you did, you never
would have picked up

that paint can.

Okay.

Now let me tell you something
about Roscoe Conklin.

That little cocktease...

- Drop it.
- Hey!
I never liked you, Dawson.

- Don't make me prove it.
- Drop the Kn*fe,
or I drop you, KJ.

Son.

Put it down.

This ain't over.

- Anytime you want to dance.
- - Since the moment this man arrived

in Margrave, there's been
nothing but v*olence.

And now he's att*cked my son?

That's it,
you get him out of here.

Last time I checked,
you weren't my boss.

Captain Finlay...

...you're a city boy,

so maybe you haven't heard
the expression.

But if you keep digging
for water under the outhouse,

you ain't gonna find nothin'
you can drink.

So you stop this nonsense
already

before someone gets hurt.

I-I saw the whole thing.

Junior and the boys were
just minding their own business,

when this guy came in and
started tearing up the place.

Thank you, Earl,

for being a good citizen
of Margrave.

Detective.

Roscoe, take Reacher outside.

See you soon, Junior.

Molly Beth d*ed 'cause she cared
about a Reacher.

Yeah.

It's Teale.

Chief Teale.

Yes.

Uh... I wasn't aware of that.

It must have been an oversight
on my part.

What?

Are you kidding me? No, no, no.
I just got the report mixed up

with something else.
m*therf*cker!

- f*ck you!
- Easy. What's going on?

- Teale just fired me.
- For what?

When the report came in
for Joe's car,

I said that the plates
matched a ride

belonging to a con
that Morrison put away.

Well, Teale just pulled up
the report

and saw that the car was
reported as having no plates.

He said that we're investigating

the m*rder
of a g*dd*mn police chief.

He's not gonna have shoddy work
muck it up.

And then he sh*t-canned me.

You guys
have been running around,

not in the office that much.

He starts pulling up files
to check on your work.

- He's getting suspicious.
- I'll talk to him
and try to undo this.

- I'm not handing in my g*n.
- With all that's going on,
I wouldn't want you to.

Just let me talk
to the man, okay?

This is bullshit!

What about him?

Is he going back to jail?

Kliner isn't pressing charges.

'Cause he doesn't want
to go to court.

A lawsuit lets me ask
for discovery about KJ

for character impeachment:

his employment records
at Kliner Industries,

maybe Kliner's books.

They don't want that.

Okay, so what do we do now?
I'm not done with this

just 'cause I'm not a cop
anymore.

We go back to Joe's punch list.

It was his blueprint;
it should be ours, too.

We've been over it.

The professors
are still out of the country,

and your friend Neagley is
looking into the Memphis angle.

There's nothing
in Jobling's garage.

- So it's down to Gray's files.
- I told you,

he didn't leave anything behind.

Actually, he did.

Not files,

but he left you
his Desert Eagle.

Like, a year before he d*ed.

Exactly.
People thinking about su1c1de

normally give away
their prize possessions

right before they take their
lives, not a full year prior.

I want to see the box
it came in.

Just be careful
with it.

It means a lot to me.

Empty.

f*ck.

Language.

Was there any kind
of file cabinet or lockbox

- in Gray's house when he d*ed?
- No.

- Nothing.
- Any other place

he might have kept
something important?

The only places

Gray spent time were
the station and his house.

That's not entirely accurate.

When we were at the motel
in Alabama, you said

- Gray used to get his hair cut
once a week.
- Yeah.

Why does a man with hardly
any hair need a weekly trim?

Gray told me to give this
to nobody but you.

Also said if you
ever came looking for it,

he wanted you to know that...

he was proud of his girl.

He left me daisies.

According to
livestock auction receipts,

Kliner has 116 cattle.
All bought at once.

Oh, my God. Here we go
with the cows again.

It's a weird number.

Who buys 116 cattle?
You'd buy a lot.

- Twenty, 50, 100.
- Your point?

I don't know. It's just...

It was a hell of a lot
of animal feed.

Well, it was.

Tell me this.

When does a family farm
become a commercial farm

in Georgia?
How big does it have to get?

This is not a lead.

Humor me.

I don't know. I remember

when my uncle
got up to around 120 head,

he had to file
with the state. Why?

So, Kliner stops at 116.

Just under the number
where he'd be subject

to state inspectors
coming on his land,

- checking out his operation.
- What operation?

He has cows
and a herd that is not that big.

Let it rest, Stretch.

You know what was big?

If you say
"the amount of animal feed,"

I swear to God, you're not

gonna have to worry about Kliner

because I will cut
your balls off myself.

Tomato and mayo.

Thought you folks could use

a little sustenance.

Thank you, sir.

Thank you.

You wouldn't
happen to have

any fruit or a salad,
would you, Mr. Mosley?

I got tomato salad.

With mayo.

Between two slices of bread.
Right-right in front of you.

Thank you.

You weren't kidding about the
quality of Gray's work, Roscoe.

It is meticulous.

He reviewed every tax return
for the Kliner Fund.

Almost
a full forensic accounting.

Seem there was money
pouring out of the fund,

but it doesn't match
income stream.

How does a charity attract

this much in donations when,

from what I can see,
it's solely focused on giving

to the businesses
and community groups

of one tiny Georgia town?

It doesn't.
Doesn't need donations

- when it can just print its own cash.
- - Exactly.

He's been buying
everyone's silence.

It's insurance.

If Margrave citizens

ever see anything off
with Kliner, suspect anything,

if they're ever put on a jury
or even questioned,

Kliner has already bought
their loyalty

with the Kliner Fund.

So, Kliner owns Margrave
and its citizens.

This guy's
pulling all the strings.

- Are these files enough to prosecute him?
- - No.

Tax returns
are the end of the rainbow.

Dry numbers
that simply represent actions.

In this case, ostensibly legal
charitable contributions.

We need direct proof linking
counterfeit cash to Kliner,

and we don't have it.

Of all the places to do this,
why Margrave?

There are dying towns all over.

I'll show you why.

What are you doing?

Margrave is perfectly located
for distribution.

The old state route
arterial systems

cross right through here.

Shipping fake cash from here,
Kliner's trucks

can avoid federal interstates
for most of the trip,

literally staying off the radar
of cops

with a much bigger presence
on busier highways.

He had a very well-oiled
and thought-out operation

to protect, so he protected it.

Okay. I get that.

But why would he
suddenly go scorched-earth?

A Secret Service agent
was investigating his operation.

He eliminated that thr*at.

So then he has
a police chief m*rder*d?

Tries to take out another cop?

Then he goes after
the Secret Service agent's

civilian brother?
I mean, that seems

like a major overcorrection.

It's the Coast Guard blockade.

News has been talking about it
for days.

Blockades have been going on
for a year,

which means no funny money
coming into the U.S.

So there's a huge backlog

of counterfeit cash overseas,
making the whole outfit

vulnerable to being caught.

And Kliner's stateside
running low on supply.

His buyers are expecting pallets
of bills he can't provide,

and the kind of guys
that buy this kind of product

don't respond well
to disappointment.

What would you do with it all?

Maybe someone wants to
buy something really dangerous

that's really expensive.

Think suitcase nuke.

But they don't have the money

to do it,
so they're printing their own.

Or they want to destabilize
the U.S. economy.

Or destabilize
a strategic nation

that runs on U.S. currency,

like Panama,
which a significant percentage

of world trade
passes through each year.

Bottom line, I don't care
why they want to do it.

You and the FBI can
figure all that out

after the people that k*lled Joe
are dead.

Gray didn't commit su1c1de.

They f*cking m*rder*d him.

I'll talk to her.

I don't want to do it.
I'm not going.

You and your brother
are both getting your hair cut,

putting on your Sunday best

and marching yourselves
over there.

Our family is not a democracy.

You have no vote and no say.

- But...
- Shh.

Now, hold still
before Grace cuts your ear off.

All done. What do you think?

Sir. Ma'am.

Joe.

I'm very sorry
for what happened.

I have no excuse for my actions.

I hope you can forgive me,

though I understand
if you can't.

Your turn, Reacher.

No.

You've had nothing
but run-ins with Curtis

since we arrived.

Apologize.

No.

Look at my son.

You can't even bring yourself
to say you're sorry?

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry

the left side of his face
doesn't look like the right.

- Those f*cking bastards spoke at his funeral.
- - Roscoe.

You want to save your town?
Avenge Gray? Good.

Harness that.

Bad people should get
what's coming to them.

No apologies.

Neagley.

Got it.

What'd she say?

She said
she wanted dinner at 10:00,

but instead, she had it at 6:00.

What in God's name
does that mean?

Ten-six is MP radio code
for "send civilian police."

Means she's found something
important enough she doesn't

trust talking about it
on an unsecured line.

And she's taking a sh*t at me
for being a civilian now.

She likes to poke the bear.

I just can't vanish to Memphis
for a day or two.

Teale will get suspicious.
He's suspicious already.

Shouldn't come anyway.

- Neagley doesn't like meeting new people.
- - If she can't

tell you where she is, how
the hell are you gonna find her?

Won't be a problem.

She'll avoid tourist traps
for privacy.

That eliminates anyplace
around Beale Street.

Also anything
around the university.

People older than college
students would stand out.

Neagley grew up broke,

so she watches her money.

Wherever she's staying
won't be five stars.

She'll choose
a decent discount hotel.

Something you'd find
near midtown,

close to public transportation.

Near a place to eat
that's reasonably priced

and isn't a chain restaurant.

Thank you.

How's it going, big fella?

Neagley.

I knew I'd track you down.

You wish.

I tracked you.

Ten years together
in Special Investigators,

I know how you think.

Figured I'd come to midtown,
avoid tourists,

find a serviceable hotel

close to mass transit,
near a decent restaurant.

And...

I know after a morning flight
with no meal service,

Jack The Beanstalk's

going straight
for the mess hall.

And you knew
I'd come to a bistro

because my mother was French.

It's got the biggest sign.

You're not that complicated.

And I wanted Cocoa Puffs.

All right, so you aren't
staying across the street?

Please.

Four Seasons.

I'm in the private sector now.

I've got miles.

Okay.

Let's go.

- I'll fill you in.
- I haven't eaten yet.

I got beignets.

Masticate on the move.

Pretty open space.

If anybody had a parabolic mic,
we'd see 'em.

- Safe to speak freely.
- Fine.

You need a woman in your life.

Oh, you mean about the case?

The "J.W." on your brother's
punch list was

an EPA investigator
named Jimmy Dupree Wilks.

- Was?
- Gunned down in his home.

Dead fed.

So FBI jumped in?

Determined it was
a random burglary gone bad.

You think they're wrong.

m*rder w*apon was
a small caliber,

nine millimeter, subsonic.

Burglars don't use silencers.

Most don't carry g*ns at all.

Also, burglars steal things.

Nothing was taken.

Affirmative.

One more odd detail.

The body was beaten
like a pinata.

Post-mortem.

Don't see that every day.

Happens more often
than you think.

Meaning?

That's what they did
to my brother.

sh*t.

You're gonna k*ll a whole lot
of people, aren't you?

Already started.

Well, you should know, then,
I'm not the only one

who thought
there was something anomalous.

Memphis cop, Aucoin,
he caught the Wilks case

and was looking into it
before the FBI took over.

His original report noted
his suspicion.

So you tracked him down.

He said he's been waiting
five years for a call

from someone about this.
He and his partner

are gonna take us to meet
a CI: low-level hitman

who might know
who was hired to k*ll Wilks.

EPA investigators aren't
common targets.

Where was he poking around?

Made a FOIL request
for his records.

He was looking
into toxic pollution levels

in the Mississippi.

- Source?
- Wish I could tell you,

but the first two chapters
of Wilks' report

cover the extent
of the pollution

and the third chapter,

the one that deals
with the source, is missing.

Let me guess.

The EPA can't locate it.

Lost like Roanoke.

Like the pages were never
written.

But the pollution

seemed to hit hardest
at Chester, Arkansas.

So that's where we go.

Reacher...

they made files
disappear at a federal agency.

You're not tracking
some corporal

who punched his sergeant.

These people are connected
and stone-cold K*llers.

Something happens to you...

it would be
like losing two friends.

You know, given your size.

Let me ask you something.

If a guy I like for the murders
was ordering 18-wheelers full

of animal feed when he doesn't
need nearly that much,

would you see a connection
with what we're looking into?

Not off the top of my head.

Hell of a lot
of animal feed, though.

That's why I like you, Neagley.

Why are you so big?

Genetics.

Beignet?

No, no, no, no!

Darn it!

Mm!

- Roscoe.
- Am I interrupting?

No, no, I was just
finishing, uh, finishing up

some wor...
uh, medical examining...

Um, what can I do for you?

Don't tell me
there's been another m*rder.

Maybe.

"No" would've been better.

When Officer Gray d*ed,

I remember the mortician

saying that they had
to fix a cut on his head

with makeup and putty 'cause...

supposedly he was so drunk
that he fell trying to get up

on the chair to...

you know, the rope and all.

Yeah. I recall there being
a severe contusion.

It looked like he hit
the corner of a chair

or his workbench or something.

Can you... pull it up?

Yeah, okay.

Here it is.

Would like me to go
through these for you?

- Maybe I can find
what you're looking for.
- No.

Thank you, I'm fine.

Okay.

Instead of hitting his head
on something...

could something have
hit his head?

- Mean he was struck?
- Yeah.

That is exactly what I mean.

Suppose. Resulting wound would,

at least superficially,
look the same.

But truth be told,
I never looked

at the injury that way.

- Can you? Now?
- Oh... oh, okay.

I can zoom in tight,
see what's there.

There it is.

Well, that's interesting.

When you heighten contrast
on skin edema,

especially around
a head wound which produces

a lot of bleeding,
you pick up micro-lacerations,

which can often show the shape

of the object
causing the injury.

- Mm-hmm.
- So if I...

zoom in a little more...

Huh.

Kind of look like a diamond.

Doesn't it?

Yeah.

Damn right it does.

Mind if we ask you
some questions about the river?

I ain't got a license
and I ain't payin' no fine.

Not here about a license.

Really? Ya look government.

Good instincts,
but I don't care where you fish.

Ah, good.

There's an empty oil drum
right there, Pigpen.

Oil drum's cleaner
than the river.

That's why we're here.

To find out
what happened in Chester.

To the river.

Clarron Chemical's
what happened.

Took a big sh*t upstream.

sh*t floated downstream.

Now all we got left is sh*t.

Who's Clarron?

Bunch of rich people
in business clothes

who tore through our town
like locusts,

not even leaving
bark on the trees.

They have anything
to do with animal feed?

Production of it, selling it?

I said Clarron Chemical.

Not Clarron Grain & Seed.

Where you going?

You're boring.

I still have questions.

You ain't the first man
come through

asking about
our stretch of the river.

EPA came through here years ago,

talking about
how the geography makes

the toxins settle here,

k*lling all the crawdads
and catfish.

Said he was gonna clean it up

'cause no one could earn
on the water any more.

You know what he did?

Nothing. Know why?

No.

He was k*lled.

Yeah, well...

so was this town.

If the river's ruined, why fish?

What else am I gonna do
around here?

So Clarron Chemical's been

out of business for years.
Not bankruptcy, though.

Just dissolved.

But there was
a parent corporation.

Kliner Industries.

Looks like Kliner
destroyed Chester

and moved on to Margrave.

Joe wasn't the first
federal agent he had k*lled.

He had Wilks taken out, too,

before his polluting
was uncovered.

Just can't prove it.

Says who?

Got a text from Aucoin.

His CI's ready to meet.

Ms. Conklin, you come
to clean out your desk?

You son of a bitch!

You f*cking stupid fucker!

- I'll f*cking k*ll you!
- Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!
Hey! Hey! Hey!

- That's as*ault!
- I'll f*cking k*ll you!

- Do something with her, Finlay!
- Not another word. Quiet!

I'm gonna tase her,
I swear to God!

You see to the mayor,
I'll take care of her.

- Roscoe, let's go!
- Look at you!

- Roscoe, let's go!
- f*ck you!

- Here you go, boss.
- You're dead!

I got my handkerchief,
you assh*le.

The hell is wrong with you?

We've been playing
cat and mouse with 'em.

They were suspicious.

But now they know
you know something!

I know that old bastard
k*lled Gray.

By now Teale's calling
for your arrest.

And once you're in custody,
they'll take you out

like they tried to k*ll Reacher
when they had him locked up.

You're not eight feet tall,
300 pounds

like our friend.

I got to get you out of town.

You can't show your face
in Margrave now.

Reacher, this is Officer Aucoin.

This is my partner, Ribidoux.

No thank you.

She's not big on contact.

Guy we're meeting is
a small time trigger-puller.

He knows his place in the food
chain. He's not the kind

to take out a fed or a cop,
but he keeps his ears open

and he's happy to talk
when it suits him.

- What makes you think
this will suit him?
- He's been a go-to CI.

- Wants to keep his seat
on the gravy train.
- Hey.

Why we got to do this, man?

This case is closed.

We got families. Let it go.

I can't.

This mess got a fed k*lled.

It ain't worth our lives, too.

If it was worth
my brother's life,

it's sure as hell worth yours.

It's...

Don't worry about him.

Unless he gets pissed at you,
then worry about him.

I'll check in.

That way, if anyone comes
looking for a crazy white lady

with a mean right hand,
desk clerk won't know

- she's staying here.
- For how long?

Until I figure out
what to do with you.

- You can't bench me.
- You benched yourself.

I got fired.

You're not my boss anymore,
remember?

I'm not doing this as your boss.

I'm doing this as your friend.

Now, stay put.
I'll be back in five.

Picard, what's up?

Before I say anything,
how do I know

it's not gonna bite me
in the ass?

This isn't part

of an official investigation.

As far as the MPD is concerned,
we aren't even here.

I promise
I won't come after you.

Yeah. What about him?

I don't give a sh*t about you.

Okay.

Look, I'm the kind
of guy that bad guys

call when they've got
a problem with another bad guy.

I don't do anything
that's gonna make the news,

and I sure as hell
do not f*ck around

with badges, you feel me?

So if you don't k*ll cops,
who does?

Out-of-town talent.

- A name.
- Well, uh...

I don't know
what his mama called him,

but he goes by "the Viking."

That's it?

All I know.

You find the Viking,
you found your sh**t.

Now, if you'll excuse me,
I'm gonna get me a lap dance,

and no self-respecting
stripper's gonna come to a table

with two cops, this chick

and a pissed-off giant.

Adios.

Come on!

I said no!

- Hey.
- I said no.

When a woman says she doesn't
want to be touched,

she doesn't want to be touched.

You earned it.

We can go now.

Some nice moves back there.

Better than the guy
who taught 'em to me.

Yeah?

Reacher,
we've had a development.

Roscoe used Teale's head
as a punching bag.

- Good.
- Not good.

Target on her back
went neon.

Already got a call
from Stevenson saying

Teale wants a warrant out
for Roscoe's arrest.

Can't trust Stevenson.

I told him she was furious
about getting fired

and that she jumped
out of my car

at a stop light and took off.

Roscoe?

I'm here.

Sorry, I just, uh...

I lost it.

No apologies, remember?

You got to get out of town.

Already did. At a motel

across the state line,
but we have a better option.

Picard just called, said that
he's gonna lose his job

if he doesn't find someone else

to take care of Charlie
and the kids.

So I'm gonna take over.

What about the Tweed Tornado?

Thinking we have
to kick things up a notch.

Gray's files didn't
have everything we need, right?

Know whose do?

Kliner's. I go to the source
after hours.

See if I can get evidence
that nails this thing down.

No security cameras, remember?

Boy Scout's gonna do
an illegal search?

Desperate times.

Besides, it's not like
I'm k*lling someone.

You'll come around.

How's it going over there?

Got a lead
on a sh**t who took out

an EPA agent
digging into Kliner.

Just a matter of time
before I get my hands on him.

Hey...

I need you to promise me

that you're not gonna
take out Teale without me.

When the time comes,
I'll hold him while you hit him.

Well...

guess, uh...

won't be seeing you for a while.

I guess not.

Bye, Reacher.

Bye, Roscoe.

You like her.

How'd you know Roscoe was
a woman?

From how you said her name.

I said her name normally.

- Mm-hmm.
- I said it normally.

- Yeah, yep.
- Tell me how I said it.

When we get
to the precinct we'll go

through the alias database,

We'll look up "Viking,"
see what pops up.

People behind this have reach,

maybe even into Memphis PD.

We can't just walk right in.

- No. We can't.
- Hey, what are you doing, man?

- Ribidoux, hold on.
- sh**t him, Aucoin.

- Put the g*n down.
- - Listen to me, you got to sh**t him.

- Don't move! They
threatened to t*rture my family.
- Hey, whoa, hold on!

- sh**t him!
- Draw your w*apon and fire!

They showed me a video of them
cutting a cop's balls off!

You don't have to do this.
There's no need....

- Grab your g*n and fire
or you're gonna die!
- sh**t!

- You don't have to do this!
- I'm so sorry.

No, no, hold on!
Wait, wait, wait! Wait! Don't...

f*ck.

I'm sorry...

So sorry...

I'm gonna pull in the woods,

and I'm gonna open the door.

I'm gonna sh**t you
really quick.

All right?
I... I promise a clean sh*t.

A fast death.

Jesus Christ!

f*ck! Okay, okay!

Oh, God.

Hey! Hey!

Help! Get me out of here,
please! Help!

- Who threatened you?!
- I-I don't know!

- I need a name!
- Tell him!

I don't know. They had accents.

That's all I know! Please!

Please...

Please let me out.

My friend and I are
getting out of here.

I can try and take you
with us, but if I do,

you're going to jail,
and they'll k*ll you inside.

And then they'll come
for your family,

and you know
what they'll do to them.

It's your call.

Hail Mary...

full of grace,

the Lord is with thee,
blessed are thou...

Take a deep breath.

You do not mess
with the Special Investigators.

You do not mess

with the Special Investigators.

Try these.

What now?

If Kliner forced
that cop to k*ll us,

odds are he hired
the Viking, too.

Finlay's breaking
into Kliner's office tonight.

Maybe when he flips
over that rock,

something important
will scurry out.

I'm gonna head back to Margrave.

You got to be shittin' me.

This turned into more
than you bargained for

when you agreed to help.

Do me a favor and walk away.

From the guys who k*lled your
brother and tried to k*ll us?

Right.

It's not a request.

And you're not
my commanding officer anymore.

I'm going back to Memphis.

See what I can find out
about The Viking.

I'll call you when I know more.

Be safe, boss.

You, too.

Guess you're not pulling
all the strings, huh, Kliner?