All language subtitles for Elementary - 2x20 - No Lack of Void.HDTV.en

Previously on Elementary...

Alistair?
Miss Watson.

In London, I had a small
part in a radio drama.

Sherlock wrote me a letter
when he was ten

saying that I, alone,
of all the cast,

truly captured
the Yorkshire accent.

So, eventually,

we met, so I could coach him
on his nuances.

We became friends.

You knew him when he was using.

Nine months ago, he shows up
at my flat, at night,

so high,
he could barely speak.

It was very...

difficult for me.

The time I've lost
in wooing, in watching and pursuing,

the light that lies
in woman's eyes

has been my heart's undoing.

And a good morning to you, too.

The time I've lost in wooing,

in watching and pursuing,

the light that lies
in woman's eyes,

has been my heart's undoing.
That's Alistair, right?

Aye. We're having
breakfast today.

Oh. I didn't realize he was still
helping you with your accents.

I would have thought you had an
Irish one in your repertoire.

The Irish accent is reserved

for those people
living in Ireland.

This is the distinct cadence
and tonality

of the Derry region
in Northern Ireland.

Alistair pointed out

that my intonations
would never pass muster

with a Derry native,
so he was kind enough

to record some poems

and colloquialisms

for me to review
before our next breakfast.

He's fit to
mind mice at a crossroads.

He fit to mind mice
at a crossroads.

Well, I have to go
down to the station

and give some files
back to Marcus.

Keep up with the accent.

You never know when you're gonna
have to go undercover in Derry.

Hey, have you
seen Marcus around?

No, he's probably,
uh, grabbing coffee.

Hey, I just got a call
from holding, that we got

a guy that's sick or something.

I know you're not a doctor
anymore, but, uh...

I can take a look.

We've already called
for a bus.

He was moaning
and then nothing.

Can I get a pair
of gloves?

What's his name?

Apollo Mercer.
He's a known pickpocket.

I caught him working
Union Square this morning.

Apollo, my name is Joan.

Are you okay?

No pulse.

He's dead.

Oh, he was fine
a few hours ago.

Get me the desk officer.

I want to know what went
on in here this morning.

I need you
to take a step back.

You should quarantine
the prisoners and anyone else

who's been in contact with him
to a different location.

What's going on?

I won't know for sure until
the M.E. runs a few tests,

but that fluid draining from
his mouth is a mixture of

necrotic tissue and blood.

First blush,
I'd say he died from anthrax.

♪ Elementary 2x20 ♪
No Lack of Void
Original Air Date on April 10, 2014

== sync, corrected by Romesh ==
RiVaL

So, is this the file of the man
who succumbed to the anthrax?

None of us were exposed,
in case you were wondering.

My lack of wonder comes not
from an absence of concern,

but from the obviousness
of the answer.

And the rest of your men?

So far, everyone's clean.

Even though it isn't contagious,
we had to

evacuate the precinct
until we know

for sure that the victim
was exposed elsewhere.

Victim being
Apollo Mercer.

Several priors for grand
larceny, possession of cocaine.

Chased down for pickpocketing
in Union Square.

The M.E. just sent some
preliminary findings.

A small, torn plastic bag
was found

in the victim's
digestive tract.

Lab work on the bag found traces
of powderized anthrax.

Well, I guess we know
how he got exposed.

And why he died
so quickly.

Once that bag ruptured, the
anthrax would have gone directly

into the mucosal tissues
of his GI system.

Well, the question is,
where did he get it?

I didn't see anything
about any terrorist ties

in his criminal history.

It's more likely he acquired
the bag from one of his marks,

assumed the powder was cocaine.

And once the police
gave chase, he swallowed it.

Or he didn't want the cops
to catch him with anthrax.

Seems unlikely he would have
knowingly swallowed

a biological terror agent.

Especially since
his priors suggest

he had a drug problem,
not an anthrax problem.

If you're right, we need to find
out who he stole it from.

Pull this morning's security
footage from Union Square.

All of it.

I'll make sure
you two get copies.

All right, anthrax is
in New York again.

The first time
it happened, in 2001,

I was a doctor.

All of my patients
were panicking.

Anyone with a cough
thought they had it.

People were
hoarding Cipro,

just in case.

"Save the Sumatran Orangutan""

Hmm?

Mr. Mercer's fictional charity.

He told his marks
he was collecting donations,

all the while,
using his clipboard

to conceal the hand
he was using to rob them.

Huh. Apollo bumps
into someone here.

Maybe that's when
he stole the anthrax.

Since that move,

known as "glad-handing,"
is used solely

for removing a watch
from a wrist,

no, that is not
when he stole the anthrax.

Did something
happen this morning?

A man rotted from
the inside out. Pay attention.

I mean with Alistair.

These screens are too small
for my purposes.

I'm adjourning
to the media room.

This is what I'm
talking about.

You've been in a mood since
you got back from breakfast.

Actually, I had
to forego our breakfast.

On account of...?
Alistair being dead.

What?

I arrived first,
which was unusual.

After 20 minutes, I began
to think I got the date wrong,

so I called his cell phone.

His partner, Ian, answered,

and, uh, told me that Alistair
passed away a week ago.

Sherlock, I'm so sorry.
What happened?

Heart attack. Quite a
massive one, apparently.

So he went
pretty quickly.

Unfortunately, I missed
the, uh, funeral.

I told Ian I'd go 'round
tomorrow, pay my respects.

Are you okay?
You want to talk?

No.

Look here.

Yes, our Mr. Mercer is a flimper
of quite extraordinary talent.

He just lifted

something out
of this man's breast pocket.

A wallet?

Mm, the police have
already accounted

for all the wallets
Mr. Mercer stole this morning.

And none of them
was from anyone

fitting that description.

According to this,

Mercer dumped a watch,

bracelet, a smart phone and...

a hard sunglasses case.

That is something that you could
keep in your breast pocket.

No sunglasses were recovered,
just the case.

Perhaps it was
being used to protect

a dangerous biological
weapon during transport.

Hmm.

I would say that we've
just had our first look

at our anthrax courier,
but we still face

the considerable task
of identifying him.

Actually, it may not be
that considerable after all.

I recognize that man from some
of the footage I was reviewing.

I think I saw...

Yes, he bought a cup of coffee,
right there.

Paid for it with an app
on his phone.

We may not know his identity,
but that coffee truck will.

The name is Charlie Simon.

Lives right up here.

Did two years at Allenwood
for stealing equipment

from a lab
at Columbia Medical School.

He'd been working there
as a tech.

That's interesting.

Most major
universities keep samples

of anthrax for
research purposes.

You think the stuff

that pickpocket swallowed came
from Columbia?

You could never steal
that amount of anthrax

without someone noticing
it was gone from a secure lab.

But given Mr. Simon's
background, all he would need

is a spore and a lab
to start growing his own.

I'm guessing
it's the kind of lab

he could set up in his house?

Like I said,
Charlie's not here.

I don't think
he came home last night.

How do you and
Mr. Simon know each other?

We don't.

I mean, not really.
We're just roommates.

My parents
bought this place,

but I got to cover
the mortgage, so I put

an ad online about the room.

He was the first person
who answered.

Did you know he was an ex-con

when you asked him
to live with you?

People make mistakes, right?
They deserve second chances.

Just 'cause a guy did
a little time doesn't mean

he can't be a good roommate.

His walks

are a little weird, but
nothing I can't live with.

His walks?

He takes three
or four every night.

Half an hour each time,
like clockwork.

Always comes back smelling
like antiseptic or something.

Like that stuff
you put on your hands.

And you're sure
he was walking, not driving?

Positive.
He doesn't have a car.

You gonna tell me
what this is all about or what?

If Charlie Simon has a lab,
it's not in there.

Lab?

We have reason to believe
your roommate was involved

in an anthrax death
that occurred

at our precinct
earlier today.

Did Charlie ever express

any extreme political views,

any terrorist leanings?

No, never.

He-he bitched
about his ex-wife a lot,

all the alimony
he was paying, but...

Could you excuse me?

I got to call
my mom and dad.

Charlie's lab must be

within walking distance
of this place.

Anthrax requires
frequent monitoring

during the growth cycle.

So you think his walks were
less about stretching his legs

and more about
tending to his spores.

Well, if he smelled
like antiseptic,

he was probably disinfecting
himself before he left the lab.

So, once he was there,
how long do you estimate

it would take him to
assess the spores' progress?

I'd say no more
than ten minutes.

Making his travel time in each
direction also ten minutes.

How tall is Mr. Simon?
Five-eleven.

Right. So, the
average stride length

for a man of that height
is 1.8 meters.

An average of 107
steps a minute

gives us a search radius
of just over half a mile.

Now, given Mr. Simon's
financial woes,

an entire additional
domicile seems unlikely,

so we're looking
for a non-residential place

which would offer
privacy and security.

All right, we'll pull a list
together, get a canvas started.

Before we do that,
you might want

to check out
Charlie Simon's

storage unit he was renting.

It's right down the street.

Team One...
I think we found the lab.

Oddly, I find myself hoping

that Charlie Simon was just
planning to kill his ex-wife.

If he was, then the bag
which killed Apollo Mercer

may represent the grand
total of his efforts.

Team One, we've got a body.

So much for asking Charlie Simon
how much anthrax he made.

So far, no powder.

Captain, might we get another
look at those trays, please?

They're all stained red.

That's because until recently
they contained sheep's blood agar.

It is considered the
best growth medium

for anthrax spores.

But there must
be over

a hundred empty trays.
Mm-hmm.

This lab produced enough anthrax
to fill thousands of bags

like the one which
killed Apollo Mercer.

And it's all gone.

As you all know,
our stationhouse

has been declared anthrax-free.

Unfortunately, the same
cannot be said for our city.

That's because we believe
that Charlie Simon

produced over 40 pounds
of weaponized anthrax.

That's enough to infect
half a million people.

And it's all missing.

Now, CSU found two sets
of fingerprints

in the storage locker.

One was Simon's,

and the other one
belonged to this man,

Eugene MacIntosh.

Eugene did three years

in Allenwood after
he assaulted a census worker.

Apparently, he and Charlie
were close in prison.

Unlike Charlie, Eugene has
definite radical leanings.

He's associated
with a gang of extremists

called the Sovereign Army.

These guys hate the government,
including the NYPD.

But they're big fans

of violence
and the Second Amendment.

So we should all tread carefully.

Finding Eugene MacIntosh
is our best shot

at tracking the anthrax--
but like Detective Bell said,

he should be considered
armed and dangerous.

We believe he is responsible for
the killing of Charlie Simon.

All right.

Do you mind telling me where
Holmes wandered off to?

He had some personal business
he had to attend to.

More important
than a would-be terrorist

with 40 pounds of anthrax?

It's personal.

Said he was gonna join us later.
Okay.

MacIntosh has a brother
named Bart

who owns a dairy farm upstate.

Bell's gonna take a ride
and go see him.

I'd like you to join him

Sure.

Sherlock.

Ian.

My condolences for your loss.

Please, come in.

I'm sorry I didn't get in touch
when Alistair passed.

I know you were friends
for a very long time.

Yes.

A privilege which afforded me
a view of his life before

and after he met you.

You made him
very happy... Ian.

Before I forget...

I've got something...

Ah.

Here it is.

First edition.

Signed.

The first play you ever
saw Alistair in,

if I'm not mistaken.

His Vladimir was
quite riveting.

He would want you to have it.

Thank you.

You have questions, I can tell.

It had been a month
since I'd seen him, so...

How was he?

He was happy.

Pink of health.

Just finished rehearsing
for a new production.

A small theater but a big role.

He was looking forward to
being back on the boards.

Nothing unusual?

No.

What about Jeremy?

What about Jeremy?

Well, had you seen him recently?

You know how it was
between them.

Yes, I do.

That's why I'm asking.

They had dinner
about a week ago.

And...?

Alistair didn't talk about it.

Which is hardly unusual.

Mmm.

What are you getting at,
Sherlock?

I'm having trouble reconciling
Alistair's passing

with his...

his vitality.

His joie de vivre.

I mean, I can't
help but wonder

if there's more to this...

than meets the eye.

I swear, my brother may be

the stupidest smart person
I've ever met.

In high school, he's the one
who got straight A's.

He aced his S.A.T.s.

Then he gets mixed up
with those

Sovereign Army idiots;
ends up in prison.

And now you're telling me
he's doing it again.

Well, it looks that way,

but we'd like to get
his side of the story.

Well, I'm sorry, but I haven't
seen him in almost a month.

Every time he comes by here,
we just end up arguing.

About what?

Name it.

Football, church,
the color of the grass.

He hates that I take money
from the government

to keep this place running.

Doesn't matter to
him that our dad

worked this place
till the day he died.

Doesn't matter that
I'm this close to going under.

That must be
very hard for you.

He even has a problem
with our mother

taking Social Security
and Medicare.

Never mind that
he can't be bothered to make

the 40-minute drive
to go visit her at her house.

Mr. MacIntosh,

do you have any idea
where we might find Eugene?

I told you,
I haven't seen him in a month.

Detective Bell didn't ask
if you've seen Eugene,

he asked if you know
where we can find him.

Mr. MacIntosh...

Me and Eugene might not see
eye to eye on a lot of things,

but he's still my brother.

When Eugene went to
prison that first time,

it almost killed my mom.

Can you blame me
for not wanting to be

the one
who sends him back there?

You brother might be
involved in a plot

that could hurt a lot of
innocent people.

If he succeeds,
how will your mother

feel about that?

Watson.

Hey. Marcus and I are
on our way back from talking

to Eugene MacIntosh's brother.

He gave us the address
to a house in Cambria Heights.

He thinks that Eugene
and his Sovereign Army buddies

crash there sometimes.

1313 Linden.
Well, as luck would have it,

I'm already in Queens.
I could be there in 15 minutes.

Then you'll beat ESU.
They're mobilizing right now.

Gave us an ETA
of a half an hour.

Well, I'll keep an eye
on the place,

and I'll await
their arrival and yours.

Hey, how did it go
with Ian today?

I'll see you soon, Watson.

You don't look well,
Sherlock.

Well, it's no thanks to you.

Rough week?

Certainly no rougher than yours.

Had I known I was gonna die, I'd
have pulled up our breakfast.

You mustn't be mad, Sherlock.

I'll be whatever I like,
thanks very much.

So...

who are we watching for?

A thief? A forger?

A murderer most foul?

"We" are watching for no one.

You're not even here.

Aren't I?

Those cases... are they
what you're looking for?

It's impossible to tell.

No, no, wait. It's not.

Uh, Sherlock...

Hey! You just made
the worst mistake of your life.

Hey. We're en route.

ESU should be there
in five minutes.

Please advise them
to wear HAZMAT gear.

Why?

I think I've found
the missing anthrax.

For the last time, I've not
been exposed to anthrax.

Watson, you're a doctor.
Examine me. Tell her I'm fine.

What are you talking about?
You said on the phone

that you were covered in powder.

I did, and I was.
But that was before

I was able to properly assess
it, and upon tasting it...

You tasted the anthrax?

Upon tasting it, I realized
it was a harmless blend

of talcum powder
and baby laxative.

But no one here
will listen to me!

I'm sorry I didn't
inform you sooner.

It's just a team of HAZMAT-suited
idiots confiscated my phone,

and my coat
and my trousers.

Feel free to express
your jubilation at any time.

Do you want to tell me
why you thought it was

a good idea to break
into that truck alone?

As I told you,

I saw two suspicious men
carrying suspicious boxes

into a suspicious truck.
I feared it was the anthrax

and that they might
abscond with it.

And I told you that ESU
was moments away.

All you had to do was
take down the license plate.

Look, I'm fine, but you're
still carrying on as if I'm not.

Okay, you are obviously
not fine, and if I had

to guess, it has
to do with Alistair.

He died. It's sad.

End of discussion.

The lab did a rush
on that powder.

You were right--

it isn't anthrax.
I know. Does this mean

I'm released from quarantine?
I'll square it

with the hospital.
But what I would really welcome

is the actual whereabouts
of Eugene MacIntosh

or the actual anthrax.

Actually, Captain,
I'm quite convinced that

we can start treating
those two targets as one.

I think that Eugene is still
in possession of the anthrax,

and I've got a notion
as to how we can find him.

But first, trousers.

My name... is Joe.

Bey.

Well, according to your
rap sheet, it's Kurt.

Greenlee.

Kurt Greenlee is a slave name

issued to me
by a corporate entity.

I don't recognize
the U.S. Government,

so stop saying it.

Call me Joe Bey.

Mr. Bey, we know that
Eugene MacIntosh is an

associate of yours.

If you say so.

Actually, I don't;
his brother does.

Doesn't mean
I'm gonna help you find him.

We seized the contents
of your rental truck,

including the envelopes
you had ready for anthrax,

all 500 hundred of them,
addressed to...

government officials.

Yeah, I was gonna write
some letters

to some so-called congressmen.

Last I checked,
that's still legal.

And I don't have
any anthrax.

You just ran a whole mess
of tests proving that.

Just some jars
of harmless white powder,

also totally legal.

Tax evasion isn't legal.

Possession of guns
with rubbed-off serial numbers

isn't legal.

You're looking
at serious jail time.

I'd rather serve every minute
than play ball with a...

bunch of government stooges.

You're quite a high-ranking
officer in your little...

army, are you not?

I'd even venture that you were
in charge of the plan

to send anthrax
to the government.

Like I said before,
what anthrax?

Right. You were never
in possession of actual anthrax.

Yeah.

Though you are forgetting
I was there

when you regained
consciousness tonight.

And when you realized

that I'd been exposed
to this harmless white powder,

you panicked.

You attempted to wipe it
from your skin

and from your clothes.

You thought it was real.

We know that
Charlie Simon made legitimate,

lethal anthrax--
someone paid him to do that,

Paid for his lab.

We went over Eugene's
financial records today.

He never had that kind of money.

You, on the other hand,

ran a very successful,
if unpermitted, bar.

And I hear from the feds

you're the kind of guy who's
always looking to invest in...

worthy causes.

Poisoning a bunch
of politicians, for example.

Eugene fleeced you.

He sold you fake anthrax,

and he kept
the genuine article for himself.

Now, we may be stooges, Mr. Bey,

but we are in a position
to punish him

and you are not.

So...

...are you sure
you don't want to help us?

...as you can see,
partly cloudy skies...

Captain Gregson.

Eugene MacIntosh just responded
to that e-mail Joe Bey sent.

The meet is on
for tomorrow at noon.

That's great.

It will be if we can grab him
and the anthrax.

I mean, we know what Joe Bey
had planned for the stuff.

But MacIntosh...
no one has a clue.

On the plus side, we know why

Charlie Simon
had that baggie on him

the night
his pocket got picked.

Joe Bey said he wanted
to take it for a test-drive,

use it on a few animals,
see how fast it worked.

Lovely.

Do me a favor
and catch your partner up.

I called him,
but he didn't pick up.

Yes, I will.

He went to the boxing gym
the second we got home.

I think he needed
some time for himself.

Well, he and I are still gonna
have a little talk

about that stunt
he pulled today.

Feel free to tell him I said so.

Okay, I will.

I'm looking for Sherlock Holmes.

He's not here right now.

Do you know when he'll be back?

I don't.
I can give him a message.

Tell him Jeremy came by.

And tell him I don't appreciate
him insinuating to Ian

that I had anything to do
with my dad's death.

Wait, you're Alistair's son?

I was.

I don't understand.

Sherlock said that your father
died of a heart attack.

Well, then he lied to you.

Because that's not
what happened.

Hey.Morning.

If you haven't checked
your e-mail recently,

Detective Bell says
he will notify us

the moment Eugene MacIntosh
is in custody.

I spoke to Captain Gregson
last night.

I'm up to speed.

When were you gonna tell me
about Alistair?

His son Jeremy came here
last night.

He was upset about some things
you said to Ian.

I told you the truth.

Alistair's heart
stopped beating.

Because of a heroin overdose,

a massive heroin overdose.
I know that he was found

with a needle in his arm. I know it all.
Well, good for you.

It must be nice, knowing it all.
I myself do not.

You lied. Why?
You were unaware

of Alistair's history.

In accordance with the
traditions of the Program,

I felt obligated
to protect his privacy.

I don't believe you.

Well, I don't care
that you don't believe me.

Well, I do care that you almost
got yourself killed last night.

And I know that Jeremy cares
that you left

Ian wondering if he was the
reason why Alistair overdosed.

Jeremy never forgave Alistair
for leaving his mother.

He went ten years without even
speaking to the man.

That's not really
what's bothering you, right?

As you know,

Alistair and I became
friends when, uh....

when I was quite young.

His addiction was a thing
of the past.

Mine was a thing of the future.

I didn't even know
about his difficulties

until-until much later.

For the first decade
of our relationship,

we didn't discuss it.

When I began
my own misadventures

with chemical dependence,

he tried to warn me;
I didn't listen.

Nevertheless, he welcomed me
with open arms

when I showed up on his doorstep
in New York,

just brimming with opiates.

He told me about that.

Most recovering addicts
would not have taken the risk.

Mmm.
He wasn't most addicts.

He had 30 years under his belt.

30 years.

Can you even imagine...

I just wanted
to know what it was.

Was it... was it a fight?
An affair?

If I can identify
the trigger, maybe...

My rational brain tells me

that relapse is-is always a risk
for any addict.

Of course.

But his death is, um...

blindsided me.

And it bothers me
that it bothers me.

He was your friend.

Next month,
I'll have two years sober.

Alistair was sober
for over three decades.

You know, in time, I would have
discussed this with you.

Every bit of it.

I just need to try and...

It's Captain Gregson.

Captain.

I thought you should know
the meet is off.

We found Eugene
without Bey's help.

How?

He showed up at his brother's
dairy farm this morning.

They fought and the brother
ended up shooting him.

Eugene is dead.

I shot my brother
because I had to.

He didn't leave me any choice.

The D.A. from your county
seems to agree with you.

You said he came to the farm
around 3:00 a.m.?

The perimeter alarm went off.

Uh, I got out of bed,
grabbed my rifle,

went out to take
a look around.

I found Eugene in the barn.

He was wearing goggles.

He had a mask over his mouth,
like, uh, doctors wear.

And he was dumping some kind
of powder into the cattle feed.

And I knew it was that anthrax
you told me about.

Then what happened?

He wanted to infect the cows

so that their milk would infect
anyone who drank it.

I-I said we were talking
about innocent people, kids.

I said, "Stop.
I'm not gonna let you do this."

But he just ranted at me,
like he always does.

Big government nonsense and...

I was a slave
to the system.

He went for his gun, and...

that's when I-I...

Is this the weapon
you saw?

Ballistics identified it
as the gun used to kill

Charlie Simon in his lab,
three days ago.

Looks like you did
what you had to do.

Before we let you go,
Mr. MacIntosh,

did your brother
say anything about where

the rest of the anthrax is?

'Cause the Feds only got
about 20 pounds at the farm,

and we think he took twice
that from Charlie Simon.

Uh... I don't know.

Uh, he said something
about friends up north

and that ours wasn't
the only government

that needed
to be taught a lesson.

Another government,
friends up north--

you got to figure Eugene was
talking about Canada, right?

Well, antiestablishmentarianism

is hardly restricted
to these colonies.

I'll reach out to the FBI

and the Canadian Intelligence
Service,

have them send files
on every radical right-wing

organization in the Northeast--
militias, hate groups,

quilting circles,
if they fit the profile.

Okay.

I have been over my half
of the files twice now.

I cannot find anything
that connects these groups

with Eugene MacIntosh
or anthrax.

What about you?

Actually, I haven't
opened a single one.

Why not?

Eugene MacIntosh's rash.

The ring finger
of his left hand.

Happens sometimes
to newly married men.

Not used to wearing a ring,
dermatitis sets in.

But we've been over Eugene's
background over a dozen times.

There is no record
of any marriage.

Not in New York, no.
But a review

of state wedding registries
reveals

that he married a woman
named Georgeanna Wheatley

several weeks ago in Delaware.

The paperwork
is still making its way

past the usual
bureaucratic hurdles.

I phoned the widow Wheatley
over an hour ago,

and she confirmed the marriage.

But she also insisted that
Eugene's antigovernment leanings

were a thing of the past,
that he had distanced himself

from the Sovereign Army
and their philosophies

while he was in prison.

That's interesting, I guess.

But obviously
he was lying to her.

Not obviously, no.
She also confirmed

that they were married
by a justice of the peace

at a state courthouse.
I ask you, Watson,

what self-respecting
domestic terrorist

allows the government
to play such a large role

in his wedding?

Anwar al-Awlaki counseled
9/11 hijackers

and slept with prostitutes.

Hypocrisy happens.

What about sudden stupidity?
Does that also just happen?

According
to his brother,

Eugene was a very bright man.

So why does a bright man abandon
a sound, if derivative, plan

to send anthrax through the mail

in favor
of poisoning dairy cows?

His brother told us: Eugene
wanted people to drink the milk.

Moronic. Any number of people
could have discovered

the cows' infection before
that milk made it to market--

farmhands, inspectors,
his brother.

So he didn't want to infect
people with anthrax the way

that you would've.

What does that have
to do with...

I apologize.

Hmm...

That didn't solve anything.

Weird, right?

You know what else it
won't solve? Alistair.

You know why he used
drugs last week?

Because he was an addict,
just like you.

I'm sorry he's gone,
but his relapsing

doesn't change a thing for you;
not one single thing.

You woke up today, you didn't
use drugs, just like yesterday.

You know what you
have to do tomorrow?

Wake up and
not use drugs.

That is just how it is;
that is how it's going to be.

Thank you. Are you quite finished
telling me things I already know?

Are you ready to start
acting like you know them?

I've decided I'm quite
ashamed of my behavior

over the last few days,
all right?

I took the passing
of a dear friend,

and I twisted it into
an indulgence in narcissism.

It's left me in a mood.

Alistair was a friend.

One of only a handful.

And-and-and...

losing a member
of such a select group

has felt quite...
substantial.

My tantrum upset you,
and I apologize.

Again.

But I assure you,
I-I'm no closer to using

than I was yesterday,

or the day before that
or the day before that.

If I was, I would tell you.

Is that the captain?
It's my mother.

She just heard
about some lunatic

trying to poison a bunch
of dairy cows with anthrax.

She want us to throw away
all of our milk.

So now we know.

Hmm.

Your mother's
not the only person

succumbing
to anthrax hysteria.

According to the news,
people all over the city

are discarding
their dairy products,

whether or not they originated
at the MacIntoshes' farm.

Seriously?

These expired a few days ago.

Her text just reminded me.
You know what?

I feel sorry
for that Bart MacIntosh.

He said his farm
was already on the ropes

and it wasn't doing well,
and now this.

How unwell was it?

He said the only thing
keeping it afloat

was subsidies from
the government.

Remind me to thank your mother
next time I see her, will you?

For what?

Well, we made an assumption

when we realized
that the anthrax

was in Eugene MacIntosh's
clutches.

That he wanted to kill people.

What if he didn't?

What if he just wanted
to kill... cows?

Go on ahead.
I'll catch up.

Can I help you
with something, Captain?

Yeah, actually,
my colleague here

was hoping to ask you
a few questions

about livestock insurance.

Yes, your own,
specifically.

We've learned that you have
exceedingly thorough coverage.

Each one of your 1,342 cows

is insured at full-market value?

Yeah, they're the farm's
most valuable asset, so...

$2,000 a head, right?

Give or
take, yeah.

So if your entire herd
were to be wiped out

by some kind of a...
bovine holocaust,

you'd receive $2.68 million,
give or take.

You've enjoyed being
a farmer, Mr. MacIntosh?

It's hard work, but
I wouldn't change it, yeah.

Your father
actually willed the farm

to you and your brother,
so you both stood to profit

from the death
of the herd.

No, wait a second.

I-If you're trying to say
that Eugene was planning

to poison the cattle for the insurance...
Actually, we're saying

that you both planned
to poison the cattle.

I told you what he said
the other night.

I told you why
he did what he did.

If we'd wanted
to make money off the cows,

we just would've sold them.
Well, selling livestock

is, of course, a quite
difficult process, isn't it?

You've got inspections,
auctions, transport--

all of these are expenses which
would cut deeply into your payout.

I mean, wiping out the herd
in one go...

far more cost-effective.

Of course,
that would require

an illness that
could wipe them all out

before anyone even knew
they were sick.

Anthrax certainly
fits the bill.

It's only
occasionally deadly

to humans, almost always
fatal to cows,

and it's naturally occurring
in the feedlots

and soil of cattle farms.

Had it decimated your cows,

no one would've
batted an eyelid.

Your brother's time
in prison came in handy.

Charlie Simon
had been a lab tech--

he could make the anthrax.

But even together,
you and Eugene

didn't have the money
to pay for him or the lab.

So Eugene reached out
to an old Army pal, Joe Bey.

He agreed to bankroll
the effort,

not realizing that your brother

had outgrown
his radical leanings.

Eugene never intended
to hand over the anthrax.

And why would he?
One anonymous phone call

to the police about Bey's plan
to poison congressmen,

he'd be out of the way.

It's quite a solid plan.

Until Charlie Simon
crossed paths

with a pickpocket.
Next thing you know,

anthrax is
all over the news.

Detective Bell and I
come up to your farm,

so you decided
to sacrifice your brother.

You talked about him
as if he were still a radical,

and you gave us the address
to a place where you knew

we would find Joe Bey.

Meanwhile, you had
Eugene bring you the anthrax,

and you killed him
and made it look like

he was trying
to poison your herd.

You hid the rest of the powder;
you had to.

You still had a thousand cows
to slay somewhere down the road.

Question is,
where did you hide it?

We know
it's not here.

The Feds and local police

combed every inch
of this place yesterday.

This is such a crock.

I want you to leave now.

Oh, we're leaving.
Not without you.

We went to your mom's
house this morning with a warrant.

Found these

in her attic.
The lab confirmed

it's the same anthrax
we found at your farm.

Well, Eugene must
have hidden it there.

But she told us he hasn't
been there in a year.

She said you stopped by
last night and asked

if you cold store
a few things in the attic.

You didn't say what they were,
but you were

very specific that she
shouldn't touch them.

According to his wife, Eugene
learned a few things in prison.

Let's see how you fare.

Sherlock Holmes, when did
you become such a cliché?

Standing over a grave,
head heavy with dark thoughts.

If this were a scene in a play,

I'd have refused to perform it.

I was on my way
to a meeting.

I'm supposed to speak,
you know.

Well, I thought this
would be a good place

to collect my thoughts.

I'm sorry I let you down.

You didn't let me down.

What you did has got
nothing to do with me.

I understand that.

Came here today
because, um...

...because I loved
you very much.

And I wanted you
to know that you'll be missed.

"At me too
someone is looking,

"at me too...

"someone ing,ay is sleeping...

"he knows nothing...

let him sleep on."

== sync, corrected by Romesh ==
RiVaL