Original subtitles

Yeah, that right, Chris. FEMA officials are now saying

that if you can get out of the tri-state area

before this storm gets here, you really should.

The National Weather Service equating the severity

of this nor'easter with a category three hurricane.

Now we're already picking up. Help!

Sustained winds right here around... Help!

Please, someone!

Help!

What happened?

He mugged me.

Here, come on.

Let me see what happened.

I don't want to hurt you.

Just do as I say.

Open the door.

Don't!

Let's go.

Hey, I'm back.

There was a run on the storm stuff,

but I got, uh, bottled water, batteries, soup.

Oh, hi.

Um, I'm Joan Watson.

Ms. Hudson.

Pleased to meet you.

I'm sorry, I didn't realize we had a meeting.

Oh, no, I-I'm not a client.

I'm-I'm a mess.

Oh, do you want to talk about it?

You know...

Love.

You know what, let me... let me put this stuff away.

Uh, can I get you some coffee?

Uh, no.

Maybe some tea.

White Darjeeling.

Ms. Hudson is a fascinating woman.

She has an Oxford don's knowledge

of ancient Greek, but she's a complete autodidact.

She consulted with me

for several cases I worked with Scotland Yard.

Of course, you had more than one case involving ancient Greek.

Well, it's actually a very fitting field of study

for Ms. Hudson, considering she makes her living

as something of a muse.

Well, "muse" is not a job title.

Yet our Ms. Hudson consistently finds herself

in the company of powerful men in crisis.

A novelist

who can't quite finish his masterpiece here,

a designer abandoned by fickle inspiration there.

Well, at some point these men must realize that Ms. Hudson...

Has a Adam's apple, yes.

Of course.

It's all rather complicated, I imagine,

but life is infinitely stranger

than anything the mind of man could invent.

Cod liver oil?

No.

And what is

the fascinating Ms. Hudson doing in the library?

She's recovering from her latest romantic contretemps.

For the last year or so, Ms. Hudson has been

the kept woman of a Davis Renkin of 3T Enterprises.

I gather Mrs. Renkin

recently found out about the arrangement.

The salient detail is she's been evicted

from Mr. Renkin's pied-à-terre.

Nevertheless, there's a blizzard on the way.

She needed a place to stay.

Oh, so we have a houseguest now.

Yes, would you have advised I throw her out on the street?

Of course not, but you know, you have a lot of work

to do on this whole roommate thing.

I mean, the polite thing would have been to ask

before inviting her into the house.

You know,

just like it's polite

to clean up after yourself in the kitchen.

I clean the refrigerator once a month; that was our bargain.

Yeah, and once a month, it is sparkling clean,

and the rest of the time, it is a science experiment.

This is all rather diverting,

but I'm afraid it's gonna have to wait.

Captain Gregson needs our assistance

investigating a homicide.

You guys got here fast.

L Train still running?

Yeah, orderly shutdown commences at midday.

This is, uh,

Frank Dempster.

The cleaning crew found him at 5:00 this morning.

He'd been dead for about three hours.

Thief was long gone,

and nobody saw nothing.

Yeah, security footage is gone?

Yeah.

Well, no sign of forced entry,

so Mr. Dempster let the murderer in.

He was shot right there,

dragged behind this station,

at which point...

He wasn't dead yet,

the guard.

He got off one shot before he took a second wound.

Agreed.

The height of the bullet lodged in the wall here

and this blood splatter suggests

that Mr. Dempster's final act

was blasting a hole through someone's abdomen.

A through and through like that

would require medical attention.

Yeah, we put the word out to all the hospitals

in the city; Red Cross storm shelters

are gonna keep an eye out, too.

You said the killer was a thief.

What was stolen?

The hot new toy.

It's supposed to come out at midnight tomorrow.

I don't know who lines up at midnight for a phone,

but somebody didn't want to wait.

They took the floor models

then got about 200 from the supply room.

You're looking for a group of thieves,

one may be a woman, and I suspect that "she"

did the shooting.

This hair is synthetic.

It comes from a cheap blond wig.

Probably got stuck to the packing tape

when they opened up a box of Verzia 8s

to verify its contents.

Now, given the wig,

I suspect that murdering a security guard,

not part of the plan.

You think she had help.

Well, hard to imagine her toting all those phones

after being shot in the gut.

So I'd say two accomplices,

plus given the nature of parking in this neighborhood,

a driver to help with the getaway.

Just to be certain,

uh, you want my assistance in solving this?

Yeah, that a problem?

No, it's just...

Due respect to Mr. Dempster,

this is a garden-variety robbery-homicide.

You find the phones, you catch the killers.

So it's a bit...

What happened to the lights?

Hey, what's going on?

Hey, Captain, sounds like

the whole city is dark.

We're trying to figure out what's going on.

Well, if I have to solve this in the Stone Age,

I suppose it might be interesting after all.

♪ Elementary 1x19 ♪ Snow Angels Original Air Date on April 4, 2013

== sync, corrected by elderman ==

♪

Okay, we are on backup power.

That means essential functions only

so we don't overload the generator.

This is Denise Castor.

She and our friends at FEMA

have come to our great city with a plan.

Um, sergeants, I want you to take a look.

I want you to divvy up your people

between road closures and rapid response.

Okay, so we've got just a few hours

before this storm hits.

What I'm hearing out of Philly,

it's not pretty.

The winds knocked out a power plant down there,

and tripped the whole northeastern grid.

So the power is not coming back, folks.

Coordinated deployment just got that much more important.

I don't think that's what they had in mind

when they said essential functions only.

This is essential; I'm conducting a murder investigation.

You're browsing Instagram.

Guys,

I'm on rapid response as of now,

but I managed to squeeze in a few calls on the murder case.

I talked to someone from Toshiwo,

the company that makes the phones.

Wasn't good.

Normally they'd be able to track down the missing batch

with GPS as soon as any of the phones got activated,

but the New York office is shut down.

Well, good idea.

Thoroughly unnecessary, but good idea nonetheless.

Look at this.

Posted 45 minutes ago?

These guys work fast.

It looks like there's a line in the background.

That picture stamped with a location?

It may as well be.

You see the shadow?

Yeah, looks like a shadow.

Direct your attention

to the curvature there.

The brutal postmodern sweep.

That is the amphitheater at Columbus Park.

That is where they're selling the phones from.

That's the real thing, man.

I can let you have it for $75.

Good afternoon, we are employees of the NYPD.

We need a few moments alone with this gentleman

to discuss stolen cell phones.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Private Maggio,

you masterminded any slick burglaries recently?

What?

No, I-I found these phones, man.

Ain't nothing wrong with selling them.

You found them?

Where?

Uh, Katy's, the bakery on Beach Street.

The lady there gives me their old scones.

I'm out back,

asleep in the alley,

and I hear this boom.

Sounds like something big getting throw in the Dumpster.

So I get up to check the old in-box,

and there's all these phones right there on the bottom.

Hand to God.

Did you see who left them?

Couple of big white dudes.

I only saw them from behind

while they were running off down the alley.

Listen, your prices are too low.

Residents of this neighborhood, they'd pay a bit more.

Get yourself a room tonight.

Come on.

Wait, you're just gonna leave the phones there?

Well, the killers didn't care about them.

Why should we?

No, the robbery of the phones was a distraction

to put us off the scent of whatever

they were really there to steal.

Let's get back to the Flatiron before the taxis pack it in.

The latest advisory from the mayor's office

is urging citizens to return to their homes immediately.

Hey, are you listening to this?

The advisory is for citizens.

We are not citizens.

We're detectives.

So if they weren't the real target,

what was, hmm?

None of the other stores in the lobby were robbed.

Must have gone upstairs.

But the stairs were locked.

The guard's elevator card was still in his jacket.

You think they used it and then put it back?

I think the thieves didn't want us

to imagine they had access

to any other floors.

Don't you have an app for that?

Power is at a premium, Watson.

Here.

Note the shiny scratches.

Someone was jittery after they shot the guard.

They made a real hash of it.

See if I can do any better, shall we?

Any luck,

and we'll find similar scratches on another floor.

So, the killers picked the lock in the lobby,

they walked up 12 flights of stairs, they picked their way

into this foyer, all so they could gain access to...

An architectural firm.

Mysteries abound.

Answers reside within.

Want to give it a go this time?

Called the police,

and we don't have anything to loot.

We're not here to loot you; we are the police.

Let me see your badge, then.

Well... we're with the police.

Look, we need to come in. We mean you no harm.

And if you intend to defend yourself

with that knife, you're holding it all wrong.

My associate, Ms. Watson, she holds several black belts.

I just figured, go camp out at the office, you know,

get some work done.

It's nice, I've had the place to myself since

I came in this morning.

Hey, we should really hurry it up; it's getting bad out there.

Listen, man, I'm telling you,

I haven't seen anything out of place since I got here.

The computers and stuff, they're all here.

That's not what they were after.

These drawers not normally empty?

Yeah, no way, we're seriously crimped for space.

Then they stole blueprints. So they killed

a security guard and stole a bunch

of smartphones as a smoke screen so that

we wouldn't know that they wanted a drawerful

of blueprints? Interesting, isn't it?

Squatter, we need to know what the numbers

9-2-Alpha-Uniform-5

to 9-4-Gulf-Yankee-2-3 mean.

It's year and job code.

Everything's listed online, but, you know, the system's down.

We do keep all the plumbing and electrical specs in the brown cabinets

over there. I need the ones that correspond

to these missing blueprints so I can see what was stolen.

I can't just give you

all of... Tell me, do your employers

look kindly on vagrancy, do they?

Aw, damn it.

Do you want to know what helps?

You just make a little tepee out of the kindling, and it

acts like a chimney. Oh.

Do you mind if I...

Oh. Please.

Hey, I think your phone is ringing.

Oh, that's Davis.

He won't stop until the cell phone towers go down.

The guy who kicked you out?

He said he made a mistake.

He said he wants me back.

But... he just wants to stick me in some walk-up,

give me a clothing allowance.

I think it's fair to expect more than that from a relationship.

Nice.

Merit badge.

Baby! I know you're in there! Now...

It's Davis.

I know she's here.

I just need to talk to her. Please.

I think you should go home.

I love you, baby.

I'll leave her this time, I swear.

It's okay.

Hello?

I take it Mr. Renkin has come a-courting?

So you noticed?

Why are you hiding in here?

Oh, be careful, I heated some very large rocks on our grill.

They're in here for warmth.

Well, there is a fire downstairs.

There's also a lovers' tiff, and I need to work.

Now, these electrical schematics

match the blueprints that were stolen.

Presumably, one of these places

is a target for the thieves.

But viewed as a whole, they comprise an incredibly mundane

roster of clients.

Unless the thieves are angling

to steal onesies from a Baby Gap,

very difficult to see what they're after.

Listen, if you're gonna be up for a while,

will you keep your ears open, because I don't know

if those two are making up or breaking up forever.

Ow!

What?

Hot rock.

Come on, rise and shine. Got to get going.

There's a blizzard. Yeah, you should put on layers.

Now, come on, please, time to get dressed.

It's not exactly gonna happen with an audience.

Mm.

Are we fleeing from the scene of a murder?

Because Ms. Hudson and her boyfriend

were up half the night yelling at each other.

They've progressed to the "quiet conversation" stage.

Ms. Hudson assures me

he will be leaving within the hour.

Now, I have ascertained which building

designed by Masslin & Associates the thieves intend to hit.

The answer is: none.

It seems like a conversation that can wait until I'm clothed.

When I was reviewing the accounting files,

I noticed that several of the stolen blueprints

lacked the accompanying plumbing schematics.

These are jobs that Masslin & Associates

bid on but didn't get.

One of particular note.

A classified government job-- an addition to an existing

government building--

administered by the GSA. What is that?

It's the government's thrilling General Services Administration.

Now, architects approved to bid on the addition,

they had access to the building's original plans.

These plans were the real prize the thieves were after.

So, what building are they planning to hit?

EROC. That's an acronym:

East Rutherford Operations Center.

It's a cash depository and processing center for...

the New York branch of the Federal Reserve,

home to the largest cash vault in the world.

I do not think for a minute the timing is an accident.

The thieves intend to use the storm as a cover

and strike when security is at dangerously depleted levels.

So they were waiting for a storm? Yes. It's quite clever.

I mean, global weather patterns are producing more

and more powerful storms.

You have a list of targets and cities that are likely to be struck.

You have a plan in place when the weather strikes.

The ensuing chaos when police are otherwise engaged--

ideal time for a robbery.

Oh, good, you're ready.

Did you call Captain Gregson yet?

I lost cell phone service at 3:00 a.m.

The landline is down as well,

and I cannibalized the echo board on my CB radio

for an experiment last week,

so we have no way to contact the police.

We know that this team is capable of murder when provoked.

We're gonna have to stop this ourselves.

Hold on. How are we gonna stop it?

I don't know-- I'll think of something on the way.

It's a long trek to East Rutherford.

Hello. Sorry. Shouldn't you be plowing?

I'm on standby. Who the hell are you?

My name's Sherlock Holmes.

This is my associate,

Joan Watson.

We're assisting the NYPD

with a matter in East Rutherford, New Jersey.

Why is the NYPD helping with something in Jersey?

It's a bit complicated.

Well, do you mind if we come in,

just to escape this bone-freezing agony?

Come on.

Thank you.

Oh!

Oh, thank you.

- Hey, hey, I was listening to that. - Right.

Would you raise the police?

We need to speak to the 11th precinct, please.

It's rather urgent.

Breaker Nine, this is Pam

calling from a plow truck in Greenpoint.

I need police dispatch, 11th precinct.

On the line for a bear with ears. Come back.

Your CB handle is "Pam"?

Copy, Pam. This is the 11th precinct.

You're on the emergency channel. State your business.

This is Sherlock Holmes, guest of Pam

and consultant with NYPD.

Need to speak with Captain Gregson.

I can't put you on with Captain Gregson, sir.

He's not here at the station. There's a storm.

A storm, you say?

We shall be on the lookout.

Could you give him this message?

Fairly certain E-R-O-C will be robbed today.

Connected to security guard murder.

Sherlock Holmes. Over.

Right.

We need to get to East Rutherford, New Jersey.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, I thought the whole reason

we left the house was because we could not reach the police.

Well, we have no idea if they're going to get the message.

Or if the authorities can seem to spare the manpower

if, by some miracle, they do get the message.

And we don't even have any proof. No,

the most sensible course is for us to go to EROC ourselves.

And do what?

What if there are 50 commandos

shooting up the place? Well, I have my whistle.

I don't know what's gonna happen next!

That's what makes this an adventure.

But someone has to try and race ahead and warn the guards.

So, Pam, very sorry to do this, but we're commandeering

this vehicle on behalf of the NYPD. And let's go.

You, get out.

You, I can give a ride home to if you want.

All right, forget the commandeering.

Let's just call it a rental, shall we?

Hey, uh...

Vince? Yeah.

Yeah. Detective Bell.

I radioed in a little while ago.

Uh, I think we spoke. I double-checked.

We haven't had a gunshot victim in two weeks.

Right. No,

but here's the thing, none of the hospitals

near the shooting had anybody come in,

so now I'm just making the rounds looking for a patient

with any kind of abdominal wound. Thought maybe

the person I'm looking for came in with a different story.

Well, it's hard to explain you got a bullet wound

by falling down the stairs.

Give me a break, man.

I got 20 minutes off from snow patrol.

Um...

Um...

we do have one young woman.

She's about to be discharged. She was stabbed.

Alysa Darvin.

Hm.

I'm decent.

Ms. Darvin?

Detective Bell, NYPD.

Oh. I thought you were a nurse.

They keep stopping by trying to talk me out of leaving.

Yeah, why are you leaving?

No health insurance. Nobody can say for sure

that they won't charge me

if I stay through the storm, so...

I'm all stitched up.

So, is this good news?

You guys find the bastard?

Hm?

Well... the mugger.

The guy who stabbed me.

No, sorry. This is about something else.

Parking tickets?

No, no, you're not in any trouble. I just...

You mind if I take a look at your chart?

Yeah.

Two lacerations.

Ouch.

Can you tell me what happened?

Well, uh... okay. Well, um,

this guy with a beard, he steps out with a kitchen knife.

I gave him my purse, but...

he said I was mouthy.

You have a...

blond hair on your coat.

Yeah, I loaned it to my friend last week, so... must be hers.

Okay.

Just one more question.

What hurt worse, getting shot or letting your friend stab you

to disguise the wound?

What?

You see that?

It's melted.

Real hair doesn't do that.

It came from a wig.

Like the one you were wearing

when you shot a security guard last night.

I don't know what you're talking about.

Right. Well, since you're checking out anyway,

I'm afraid I'm gonna have to insist on giving you a ride.

So, you're with the NYPD

but you're not cops.

How does that work, exactly?

We met your price, Pam.

I assumed it included freedom from small talk.

He gets carsick, like a six-year-old.

We consult.

Oh, I got a bar; I'm gonna try the home line,

see if the landlines are working now, maybe.

Why on earth would you call our house?

Well, because every time I call the police I get a weird signal.

I just want to make sure that Davis is out of the house

and Ms. Hudson is okay.

The number you have dialed is not in service.

Please check the number and try again.

The number is out of service,

and it is not because of an emergency.

Do you have any idea why that would be...

Did you not pay the phone bill?

In this day and age a landline

is like an appendix or a vestigial tail.

I don't know why you care anyway.

Yesterday you complained when I took Ms. Hudson in.

Yesterday I was upset because you brought a stranger

into our shared living space without asking.

Today she's no longer a stranger.

I like Ms. Hudson.

You know, she's lost. She's just trying

to figure herself out. You identify with her.

She's like you were before you met me.

What?

Lost, trying to figure yourself out. No, I reject

that analogy. I just want to help her.

I think it would be good if Ms. Hudson

learned to take care of herself, that's all.

Well done, Pam. We're here.

Little early for a plow,

isn't it? Still coming down.

We're not here to shovel snow.

There's an emergency.

You want to know why today's your lucky day?

Normally these tests don't take any time at all.

But... we got no power.

Can't run the test.

Means you have a little window to be smart here.

If you're ready to tell me what I already know--

that you killed Frank Dempster,

that you and your buddies stole 200 Verzia 8 phones--

I'll get a D.A. in here and cut you a deal.

You know what, why don't you shove...

Sorry to interrupt, but...

sounded like a no.

So... let's switch gears.

Why don't you tell us about EROC.

You say you're with the NYPD,

but we can't raise anybody on the radio to confirm that.

They're a bit busy dealing with the storm of the century.

Well, be that as it may, there's no way

we're letting you past the control room.

Nobody gets past the control room.

This entire facility is automated, Mr. Holmes.

Most days, nobody's allowed on the cash floor.

Automated vehicles-- our AGVs--

they unload pallets of bills

from the armored trucks that bring in the deposits.

Then they take them into the vaults

for processing and storage.

It's all commanded remotely from rooms like these.

There's no way... no chance

you could get into our vault directly.

Huh.

Is something wrong?

Nothing. It's all there and accounted for.

I just didn't realize they were doing a sort today.

Steve, did you hear about this? Machines ran about 980.

An unscheduled, unsupervised sort

of nearly a billion dollars run on auxiliary power.

Okay, yes, it's weird, but...

nothing's missing.

All the bills that ran through the machines are accounted for.

System's tamperproof.

You destroy currency at this facility, do you not?

Sure, if a bill gets too worn out

it gets sifted out and shredded.

Can we see where?

The money's already been shredded, has it not?

Ms. Watson and myself are not here to steal confetti.

Our processing machines read 70,000 bills an hour.

These bills are from this morning's shred.

Just under $33 million.

That's about average for four hours.

It's all here.

Something was shredded here this morning,

but it's not U.S. currency.

This is supposed to be cotton.

This is regular paper. This is fake.

That's not possible. Well, you be sure to mention that

in your exit interview. Yeah.

Well, it's hard to say how the thieves got in,

not without access to the blueprints they stole.

But they got into your control room,

they looped the security footage, and they gave themselves

run of the place-- they switched out the bales

that were meant to be shredded with fake currency.

That doesn't make any sense. If they got in,

they could've taken as much as they wanted.

But not without risking detection,

inviting a massive manhunt. If these bales

had gone to the landfill as you'd intended,

no one would even know there'd been a crime here.

So we're not trying to prevent a robbery;

we're trying to find these people

before they disappear with $33 million.

It's freezing out. What are we looking at?

Since she chose the shed

at the most remote point of access to unlock.

Look at this. See the discoloration there?

Rather than break down the door, they've unscrewed the keypad,

they wired in and then reattached it on their way out.

Left hardly a trace.

We're standing over a tunnel.

Yeah.

Without question,

this was our point of ingress and egress onto the property.

Well, it looks like someone's been smoking here.

You think it's normally guarded?

Huh. Unless a massive storm

forces them to work with a skeleton crew.

You have to admire the ingenuity of the plan.

If they hadn't killed someone,

I'd have half a mind to let them get away with it.

They came out of EROC with $33 million in small bills.

They loaded their haul into an ambulance--

American-made in the late '90s.

They haven't been gone

more than an hour.

The driver had a lazy eye, the other two met

at basketball camp, and one has canine lupus.

You see how it feels?

Just tell me how you know.

Well... just...

These tire tracks,

they're varying axle bases. The front wheels,

little bit closer together.

That is a very rare configuration.

It's common only in ambulances

and certain U-Haul- style box trucks.

Now, if I was trying to make my way unimpeded

through a storm-locked area, I'd rather be

in an ambulance than a U-Haul. Wouldn't you?

Two inches of snow are falling every hour.

Those tracks would be impossible to see,

unless they were here within what, the last 90 minutes or so?

Very good, Watson.

And given the current conditions,

it's not too late to catch them.

Do you know we have

a satellite phone linkup to other law enforcement agencies?

It's so we can stay in touch in case of emergencies.

Alysa Darvin, the name you used at the hospital,

it's an alias. You dropped it before.

Your real name is Elle Bastin.

You were born in Marseilles.

You got dual citizenship with arrests for larceny

in Germany and Portugal.

Your husband, Ibn Casimir, was in on both jobs.

Is that why you won't talk to us?

'Cause you're married to a guy who decided,

go ahead with the robbery after you got shot?

Elle...

tell us what he's up to,

where we can find him.

Otherwise, you're gonna eat a murder charge alone.

You will never find my husband.

Captain, sorry to interrupt.

There's someone named Sherlock Holmes on the radio for you.

He says EROC's already been robbed.

You found the murderess?

Yeah, the murderess is name Elle Bastin.

Detective Bell's been talking to Interpol.

They say she's got four plane tickets

booked out of BWI day after tomorrow; headed to Belize.

And on to a non-extradition country from there, I assume.

The good news is,

if they're flying commercially

they will have to unload the money first.

$33 million in cash takes up enormous physical space.

At the moment, they're carrying it in the back of an ambulance.

What was she carrying on her when you arrested her?

Uh, not much.

She had a burner on her when I found her,

but the texts are limited right now.

Only managed to pull the last dozen numbers she dialed.

You can use a reverse directory.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, it's not my first day, Holmes.

I did. She mostly called friends and family.

There were a couple to Oak Knoll out in Queens.

Who did she call at the racetrack?

A guy named Joseph Leseur.

He's the Director of Thoroughbred Racing over there.

Well, Detective, what would you do if you had

an enormous amount of old, worn-out bills

with old serial numbers?

I would swap them out with nice new clean ones,

little bit at a time.

Especially if I had a contact who worked

in one of the largest-volume cash businesses there is.

Tell me, can we get an address for Mr. Leseur?

Who's driving you around?

Pam.

So, what have you learned?

Well, none of the, uh, neighbors spotted an ambulance

driving up to Leseur's house.

If they plan on coming here, they haven't done it yet.

Takes time to move $33 million around a paralyzed city.

Mm.

Do you know where the term "stakeout" comes from?

No, but I'm guessing I'm about to find out.

All units, be advised that a Stuyvesant Memorial ambulance

just passed the road closure and is driving east

across the City Island Bridge.

Copy that. Let them through.

We'll arrest everybody after they pull up to Leseur's place.

Hold it.

Wait for the exchange.

Detective, I think one of the EMTs

just clocked me. I'm going in.

Get on the ground now!

What the hell are you guys doing?!

Don't move. You're under arrest. For what?!

We got a nonemergency call to this address.

You telling me you don't have $33 million

in the back of that ambulance?

What?! Of course not!

Stretcher, medical supplies.

Street value, maybe a few thousand, but hey,

it's not like we're busy today or anything.

I don't understand.

We've been duped.

It doesn't make any sense.

We were waiting for a Stuyvesant Memorial ambulance,

and even though there was no emergency

at Joseph Leseur's house,

Stuyvesant Memorial ambulance showed up.

Now, that can't be a coincidence.

So, taking odds, you think that

Davis has shacked up with Ms. Hudson or not?

Uh, hey, listen. This was pretty fun.

If you ever need, you know, a snowplow

for hire again...

give me a call.

Oh, my God!

It's spotless.

Don't hate me.

Hate you? I love you.

How's it arranged?

By subject matter,

then by author.

You start with hard sciences

on the north wall, and then you move

clockwise around the room

in descending order of academic rigor.

That way,

Physics by Aristotle is as far away

from You Can Learn Telepathy by Morton Zuckerman as possible.

That's reasonable.

Oh, and I stacked your monographs

that you wrote on your desk.

I liked the one

about queen bees.

I'm impressed.

I have a touch of OCD.

Seems to flare up after a breakup.

Davis?

He stayed over the first night, but...

our thing wasn't really healthy.

Or happy.

I think maybe I have to take another look at that whole

"kept woman" thing.

Why does Clyde have tape on his back?

It's a cross. He's an ambulance.

He's the ambulance.

Oh, I see.

So, the locks are checkpoints and road closures?

Mm. According to Captain Gregson,

we have reason to believe that Ibn Casimir

and his compatriots were... here

at 3:00.

That's when multiple eyewitnesses report

seeing a Stuyvesant Memorial ambulance

flagrantly disregarding a severe traffic accident

on Soundview Terrace.

It's odd for an ambulance

to ignore those in distress.

Less strange if it is carrying $33 million in cash

instead of medical supplies.

Let's presume the thieves learned

that we were looking for them.

They call in a false distress signal

to Joseph Leseur's house,

and then they take their stolen cargo elsewhere.

It's hard to see where they could have gone.

I mean, every cop was looking for them at that point.

Mm, exactly. And what's more,

the streets were a maze of emergency checkpoints.

The whole city was virtually locked down.

I like what you did with the-the locks and everything.

I'm not trying to create a visual pun.

I'm trying to see how

an ambulance could have got anywhere,

even a decent hiding place,

when there was quite literally nowhere for it to turn.

It seems impossible. The only way it could have gotten anywhere

is if those checkpoints and road closures weren't there.

But they were there.

You can't just wish them away

with a wave of your... What?

Most people can't just wish them away

with a wave of their hand.

So, the stapler's the ambulance?

Yeah, It was was a tortoise last night. Bear with me.

These stickers represent the checkpoints and closures.

We know that the ambulance driven by Ibn Casimir

and his associates was spotted here yesterday.

We do not know how it got out of the city.

Ms. Watson has a copy of yesterday's dispatch log.

A commendable attempt to catalog the blizzard's madness.

Ms. Watson, would you please read the events in question?

Yes, of course. Um, at 3:32,

a stretch of St. Ann's Avenue was reopened

when officers manning a checkpoint

were reassigned to Garvey Park.

3:45. Police officers at the Triborough Bridge

were directed to investigate reports of a fire

that turned out to be false.

At ten to 4:00, the checkpoint at Astoria and 31st

was deemed unnecessary and shut down.

Yes, now, see, there's more. There's many, many more.

But you, uh, you get the idea.

A series of personnel maneuvers, on their own, unremarkable,

but you consider them as a whole,

they add up to quite a tidy escape route out of New York.

You think someone was playing Moses, parting the Red Sea?

If you're right, they've got a high-level player inside.

So how's it been, working with Mrs. Castor?

It's fine. She's tough.

Knows her job.

Sharp enough to be able to arrange

the chessboard without arousing suspicion.

Do you know what

a FEMA Emergency Response Administrator is paid in salary?

She's GS-13 on the government pay scale.

It is not exorbitant.

I don't make a fortune either.

You want to make a citizen's arrest?

I am merely suggesting a motive. She is paid the same amount

as the postmaster of Sheboygan, Wisconsin.

Perhaps she decided she needed a raise.

That's all very interesting,

but we don't have a case.

All I can point to is the few instances

of her doing her job.

Now our thieves are gone,

and the one we've got isn't talking.

Oh. Why do you think Ms. Bastin

has decided not to bargain with us?

I suppose it's possible in her case there is honor among thieves.

But it's also possible that she's holding onto

her most valuable bargaining chip:

the identity of a corrupt government employee

until she is quite certain that her inside contact

cannot facilitate her escape.

I don't know about you, I'm quite hoping her faith

in that remote possibility is redeemed.

Do you know what a Mass Spectrometer is, Elle?

Truth is, I don't really know how the thing works myself,

so I'm not the best person to explain it, but I'll try.

a Mass Spectrometer is the thing

that just ruined your life.

The GSR test came back.

You had gunshot residue all over your right palm.

You're going down for the murder of Frank Dempster.

We're gonna put you away for life.

Guess the backup generator wasn't built for the long haul.

Oh, right, I was talking about how they're clearing the roads

and you're about to be transferred to Central Booking.

What's going on?

Somebody got stabbed in the holding cells

during the blackout. Come on. You, too. Let's go.

Shouldn't somebody keep an eye on her?

Come on. The door's gonna lock from the outside.

Ms. Bastin's not going anywhere.

Detective Bell once confided he played Sky Masterson

in his high school production

of Guys and Dolls.

I had not, until this moment, imagined that he was any good.

The stage's loss is New York City's gain, I suppose.

How we looking, Holmes?

Nothing yet.

How's the riot?

Not a word. Follow me.

Here we go.

The happy collaborators are on their way out, Captain.

Okay.

Wait, wait.

We can't charge them with escape

until they clear the floor.

You didn't say anything to them, did you?

Say anything about what?

♪

Hey, Gregson just called.

Denise Castor turned on her partners.

Turns out the ambulance

and the cash were in a garage in Rockaway.

Wonderful.

Oh, redecorating already?

Uh, what's Pam doing here?

Ms. Hudson needs a ride to her cousin's.

Some of the roads still a bit dicey.

That's me.

Thank you.

I'll see you Tuesday.

What's Tuesday?

Ms. Hudson needs some cash while she figures out

her next move. I've engaged her

to clean the place on a weekly basis.

Oh.

That's very considerate.

I wasn't going to do it myself, was I?

And you've decided to take on

some extra casework to cover her fees.

Excuse me. We never agreed to that.

Well, 50-50, then.

Now, come back in ten minutes, wear a blindfold.

The bloodstains will be ready,

and the lesson can begin.

== sync, corrected by elderman ==

www.tvsubtitles.net