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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 killed her.

We can't do that if we're shot dead

by crooked cops or rotting away in jail

with her murder 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-kill shelter,

then drop me off at Hubble's.

Why?

Last car they gave me
is full of bullet 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.

Shit!

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 fuckin' mailbox.

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

Look, it's the war 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 knife, 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 violence.

And now he's attacked 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 died '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. Motherfucker!

- Fuck 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 murder of a goddamn police chief.

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

And then he shit-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 gun.

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 died.

Exactly. People thinking about suicide

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.

Fuck.

Language.

Was there any kind of
file cabinet or lockbox

- in Gray's house when he died?
- 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.

♪ No time to wait ♪

♪ Grooving down... ♪

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.

♪ Take today ♪

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 threat.

So then he has a police chief murdered?

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
killed Joe are dead.

Gray didn't commit suicide.

They fucking murdered 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 fucking 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 shot 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.

Murder weapon was a small caliber,

nine millimeter, subsonic.

Burglars don't use silencers.

Most don't carry guns 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.

Shit.

You're gonna kill 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 kill 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 killers.

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, ain't got no ♪

♪ Ain't no, no, no ♪

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 murder.

Maybe.

"No" would've been better.

When Officer Gray died,

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.

♪ In the city of the angels ♪

♪ The pretty one goes around... ♪

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 shit upstream.

Shit floated downstream.

Now all we got left is shit.

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,

killing 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 killed.

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 killed.

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 fucking stupid fucker!

- I'll fucking kill you!
- Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!

- That's assault!
- I'll fucking kill 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!
- Fuck you!

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

I got my handkerchief, you asshole.

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 killed Gray.

By now Teale's calling for your arrest.

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

like they tried to kill 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 killed.

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?

♪ Up in the club ♪

♪ And I been done looked at them slugs ♪

♪ Up in the club... ♪

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 shit 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 fuck around

with badges, you feel me?

So if you don't kill 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 shooter.

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 killing someone.

You'll come around.

How's it going over there?

Got a lead on a shooter 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.
- Shoot him, Aucoin.

- Put the gun down.
- Listen to me,

- you got to shoot him.
- Don't move!

- They threatened to torture my family.
- Hey, whoa, hold on!

- Shoot him!
- Draw your weapon 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 gun and fire or you're gonna die!
- Shoot!

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

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

Fuck.

I'm sorry...

So sorry...

I'm gonna pull in the woods,

and I'm gonna open the door.

I'm gonna shoot you really quick.

All right? I... I promise a clean shot.

A fast death.

Jesus Christ!

Fuck! 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 kill 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 kill 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 killed your
brother and tried to kill 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?

- Synced and corrected by chamallow -
- www.MY-SUBS.com -