FBI! Put your hands in the air!
You could have knocked.
Julian Larssen, you're under arrest for murder and attempted murder. Get him out of here.
So what now?
We tear this place apart. I want to find evidence directly linking Larssen to the shootings. I want to nail this son of a bitch.
Jones? Check that plant.
Bet ballistics finds a match.
It's nice to see you're recovering, bud. Doctor says you'll be out of the wheelchair in the next couple days.
It builds something.
The code inside the music box. It's an equation that builds something.
We don't need to talk about this right now.
I was shot for that code! Now that Larssen took my notebook, they have the equation, too. I'll be damned if they're gonna build it before I do!
All right, you need to rest.
I'll rest when this is done. When this is finished, I'm retired.
Okay, you know, deathbed epiphanies aren't your style. If this is about not being able to remember, Moz...
It has nothing to do with that. I betrayed everything I believe in.
What are you talking about?
I narked! I was the one who told the suit you were going after Fowler! I was serious. The reason the bullet missed my heart is because I don't have one!
You told Peter?
I'm a Judas, a turncoat, a quisling!
turncoat 裏切者 quisling 売国奴
Thank you. I... If you hadn't, Moz... I might have killed Fowler. And Fowler didn't kill Kate.
He didn't? Then who did?
The guy Larssen's working for... I think. So what does this coded equation build?
I have no idea. Yet.
How long have they been in there?
A long time.
Something's not right.
You offered Caffrey a deal. He doesn't make deals around here. I do. Now, you're a gun for hire, a bullet aimed at a target. I want to know the man who's pulling the trigger.
I don't know what you're talking about. I'm innocent.
Burke. A moment?
Did we get the ballistics?
The inside of the barrel was filed down. We couldn't make a match.
He's hiding his trail. What about prints?
The outside of the gun was wiped down.
Agent Roe. What's Department of Justice doing here?
Forensics found a single print inside the weapon.
It was yours, agent Burke.
The print was found inside the slide. The only way it could have gotten there was if you assembled the gun.
This is absurd.
Agent Burke, you're hereby on leave until this investigation is completed.
Peter, your gun and your badge.
What about Larssen?
We can't hold him.
Hughes, You... you can't let him walk out of here.
Stay out of it, Caffrey. Uncuff him.
I'll send you a bill for my door.
Agent Burke... You have to leave the building, as well.
Larssen destroyed me.
I knew that's where they'd go. No, we have to give them everything they ask for.
What do you got there?
Oh, Mozzie's care package, per his specific request. We've got gluten-free brownies and bendy straws.
He's definitely feeling better.
We'll get through this.
That was Diana. Department of Justice has pulled all my files.
That was fast.
Evidence tampering... Doesn't get any worse than that. Every case I've closed will be brought into question.
Evidence tampering 証拠改ざん
Maybe I'll get my anklet off sooner than I thought.
You might. How the hell did Larssen plant my print?
He could've used a photo-etched metal master of the print and used it to cast a latex positive.
Okay, let me rephrase that question... Where the hell did Larssen get my fingerprints?
He didn't get it out of your personnel file. The print on the gun has detail outside the print on file.
Did he get it from a door knob?
No, too many other people touch it. He'd need a clean print, preferably off a hard surface. What?
My mug. It disappeared.
You think Larssen's brazen enough to walk into the FBI?
If he was, we've got him on camera.