All language subtitles for Reacher.S02E02.What.Happens.in.Atlantic.City.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.Atmos.H.264-FLUX

Previously on Reacher...

I got your message.

110th, 10-30. A distress call.

Calvin Franz was murdered.

If he was calling you for
help, he may have been

trying to get in touch
with the rest of the unit.

I called O'Donnell, Dixon,

Sanchez and Orozco.
No one's answering.

I paid off the concierge. He
I.D.'d Neagley as checking in.

Just keep an eye on
that hotel and them.

No one will really
know who you are.

But you know.

Hey, O'Donnell.

Hey, Neagley.

Just a list of names,

all starting with
the initials "A.M."

I just got page after page

of random numbers. No
order, no meaning. Nothing.

At least to us, for now.

What are you thinking?

I'm thinking there's
someone hell-bent

on taking out the
special investigators.

And they're coming after us.

Good.

So, if someone's
coming after the 110,

how come they haven't made
a run at the three of us yet?

You were in the
woods with your family,

no one can ever find
me and maybe they just

hadn't gotten around
to Neagley yet.

They were in our hotel rooms,

maybe to grab us or take us out,

but then had to bail
for some reason.

We need to try again
to warn the others.

I'll call Sanchez and Orozco.

I got Dixon.

There's a black sedan
across the street,

couple houses down.
Same one as yesterday.

Guess you were right.

We're being followed.
How you want to play this?

I'm gonna go introduce myself.

Look at this fucking beaut.

What's he think he's gonna do?

Fucking nose, man.

Gun!

Just like the good old days.

Yeah, you on the sidelines
while I do all the work.

Uh, fellas, this was his gun.

Name's Gaitano Russo.

Don't look at me.
You did all the work.

Got to say, man. Major screwup.

Soon as Russo wakes up,

the entire NYPD's
gonna be after your ass.

Why'd you got to
hit him so hard, huh?

I don't hit soft.

Well, a cop puncher's
gonna do some serious time.

I was pissed about
the dog, and I assumed

he was involved in
killing Franzy and Swan.

What did you teach us?

"In an investigation,
assumptions kill."

No, it was "In an
investigation, details matter".

I didn't kill him,
just broke his nose.

He'll be fine when he wakes up.

Shit. Gaitano Russo.

Guy Russo. He's the
investigating officer

in Franz's homicide.
I saw it in the files.

And how'd he get on your tail?

NYPD saw the calls
Franz made to you,

flagged your name, got an alert

when you bought
the plane tickets,

been on you since you landed.

Question is "why?"

Question is "where?"

As in, where do we
hide a six-foot-five felon

so you don't wind
up in the pokey.

I'm not leaving.
The case is here.

Maybe not.

When I called Sanchez
and Orozco's office,

voice mail was full.
That's a bad sign.

So it might not be a bad
time to get out of Dodge,

considering Cocky Balboa
here just knocked out a lawman.

Fine. We'll head
down to Atlantic City,

see if we can find the guys.

First we got to
check out of our hotel

and find a more generic ride

before Russo
regains consciousness

and puts out a BOLO. Range
Rover's too conspicuous.

You're the reason we
can't have nice things.

Wait, I don't understand.
Was it a car accident?

No, he just kicked the car.

Well, then how the hell
did the airbag go off?

He kicked the car,

then he pulled the
cop out and he knocked

his dick in the dirt.

I'm telling you,
this guy's a beast.

When the time comes, I'm
gonna need some backup.

And you'll get it.

But for now, you just
stay on their asses,

and don't fuck this up.

Understood.

Short-term airport
parking only in Lot 1.

Short-term airport
parking only in Lot 1.

There's a 2019 Accord
for sale up in Tremont

for way under market
value. Cash-only deal.

One of the most stolen
makes and models

for sale in the Bronx, and
the guy wants no paperwork?

We sit in that thing,
we burn our asses.

We don't have a choice.
We're flagged in the system.

We can't rent anything
under our names.

Well, we drive around
in a stolen vehicle,

we risk getting pinched.

I've got our solution.

How was your undercover job?

Reacher.

How'd you know I was undercover?

Considering the circumstances,
you would've come right away.

But you didn't,
which can only mean

you didn't get our
messages until recently.

But if you were on vacation,

you would've checked in
with your office periodically.

So you had to be working
undercover, deep undercover,

where frequent check-ins
aren't always possible.

Same old Reacher.

Corporate embezzlement case.

Stuck in Texas so
long, I started to think

I actually liked cowboy
boots and high school football.

Still got your fake ID with you?

- Yeah.
- Good.

Use it to rent the car.

What's with all the secrecy?

Neagley, O'Donnell and I
have been flagged in the system.

And I punched out a cop.

Of course you did.

So... Franz.

Yeah. And Swan,

most likely.

Sanchez and Orozco are MIA, too.

Okay.

Okay, so we take
care of business.

You do not mess with
the special investigators.

Next.

Make sure you get an...

SUV. I know. You
need the headroom.

Good. Glad to
see you're still here.

Feel like I'm never gonna leave.

If it's reported at any Army
base anywhere in the world,

no matter how
minor the infraction,

we're copied on it.

Well, anything jump out at you?

Yeah, a rat the size of a
honeydew about 20 minutes ago.

- Seriously?
- Yeah.

It's back in those
boxes somewhere.

Gross. Well, speaking of rats,

I think I smell one.

A commanding officer
at a base in Afghanistan

thinks someone's
stealing aviation fuel.

Siphoning off gas to
resell it on the side?

Not exactly the
kind of priority case

the Army wants us taking on.

Right, but see, I don't
think anybody's stealing

and reselling anything.
Take a look at these numbers.

They always tell a story.

See, I noticed that every
time fuel went missing

from the base, it was
always after a specific flight.

Whenever C-17s ferried
Humvees back home to the States.

I mean, it's a minor detail,

but in an investigation,
details matter.

I like that.

I'm gonna use it.

What's mine is yours.

So...

you have a theory?

Yeah. There's been no
indication of black market fuel sales

anywhere on or around the base,

so how does all
that fuel go missing?

Best way to make gas
disappear is to burn it up.

Exactly. Now, Neagley's
got the bulk fuel experience

and she thinks all
the Humvee flights

are intentionally
being over-fueled.

But, when those planes land,

the amount of fuel in the tanks

is exactly what's expected,

and that gets
logged into the books.

So, how does that happen?

The excess fuel is being
used to transport more weight

than people realize
is on the plane.

- Yeah.
- Something heavy

and secret is being moved.

Mm-hmm. Exactly.
Contraband in the Humvees.

Drugs, guns, stolen
cash, all of the above.

Good work, Dixon.

You just found a case
worthy of our attention.

I don't know about you,

but all this sleuthing's
made me thirsty.

Want to go celebrate?

You can buy me a drink.

I got to keep working
on these reports.

Maybe next time.

Yeah.

But again,

excellent work, Dixon.

Yeah. No problem.

Like I said, numbers
always tell the story.

So, the numbers telling you

a story?

Yeah, and it's a
David Lynch film.

It's totally incomprehensible.

I mean, if these are
supposed to be fractions,

then it's sloppy work.

Some of them
aren't even reduced.

I noticed that, too.

Maybe the numbers
represent hard quantities.

Like, eight out of
ten somethings,

and not just four-fifths
of something?

Maybe.

Yeah, maybe.

Beyond that, two
things stick out.

None of these are 100%, meaning

there's no nine out of
nine or ten out of ten,

and the first four
pages have 26 numbers,

the fifth has 27 and the
last two have 26 again.

Could be an accident.

Just the way the
information's spaced.

No, seems deliberate to me.
None of these pages are full.

What about the
list of A.M. names?

Means nothing to me.
I agree with you guys.

It's got to be an alias.

Maybe it's someone with a
grudge against the 110th?

We've arrested a lot of people.

What about James Barr?

I mean, that guy's got the
skills and a screw loose.

Barr's a shooter.
Can't picture him

throwing someone
out of a helicopter.

Plus, I ran into him
in Indiana last year.

He owes me now.

I don't want to know.

Pine Barrens.

About a million lonely acres.

A lot like the spot
Upstate New York

where they found Franz.

They left his broken
body out there to rot.

For all we know,
Swan's out there, too.

And Sanchez. And Orozco.

There's no blues station?

Bro, we're in Jersey.

It's from my phone.

Franz used to blast
this at HQ all the time

when you weren't around.

Leave it.

They rented a car
under a fake name,

but it's, uh, it's Karla Dixon.

She's with them now.

They're headed
towards Atlantic City,

probably gonna try to
find their missing buddies.

Good. All in the
same place at once.

When you get
there, take them out.

Copy that.

You remember what I
said about needing backup?

I know some local talent.

Well, bring in whoever you need.

We'll cover the tab.

I just want them
dead by tomorrow.

You hear me?

Fucking dead.

Just like Franz's office.

And our hotel rooms.

You said they hadn't
trashed Swan's place.

Yup.

Add that to the list of things

that must mean something.

You guys ever know
Orozco to go anywhere

without his lighter?

Better days.

Am I the only one of us
that doesn't have this photo?

- Got mine.
- Got mine.

On my bookshelf.

Hard to hang a picture on your
wall when you don't have walls.

We're wasting our time here.

Agreed. We have
what the killers want,

and anything worth
finding, they already got.

Where to next?

A bar.

Look at these photos of
Sanchez and this woman.

Who under 50 frames photos?

We do.

Other than the 110th, how many
photos you have at your house?

Not many.

But she's framed,
so she's important.

We're going to the Lucky Lounge.

No. You two stay here.

You both look like cops.

What do you two look like?

Lady and the Tramp.

Hey.

This woman working today?

Who are you?

Friends of Jorge Sanchez.

Hey, Dulls.

These guys say they're
friends of Sanchez,

want to talk to Milena.

Take them back to the
office. She's doing the books.

Milena.

Take your shit and
get out of here, now.

I get that he's a
different kind of guy,

but our commanding
officer buys used underwear.

Isn't that the girl
from the photo?

Oh, shit.

Hey!

This is as far as we're going.

What's going on, fellas?

You guys are gonna
stop coming around here

and messing with our friends.

Look, pal, you somehow got...

Don't touch me!

Wait, wait, wait, wait!

Move your ass.

I'm done, I'm done.

Well, it's a good thing

O'Donnell and I didn't go in.

Something could've gone wrong.

You making friends, big fella?

I'm so sorry. I
never would've run

if I'd known who you were.

I should've recognized
you from Jorge's photos.

My guys were just
looking out for me.

Scary dude came in here
asking for her about a week ago.

Said he was working
with Sanchez and Orozco

on some big security job.

Broad-shouldered bald guy?

No. He had hair.

Scar down his cheek.

He wanted to know
if Sanchez had left

any kind of digital
storage device

with me. I-I had no idea

what he was talking about.

I got a bad vibe off the guy,

so soon as he
left, I called Jorge.

He didn't answer.

They've gone dark
before, part of the job,

but this... feels different.

Then you come in,
claiming to know Sanchez,

looking like the kind of
people somebody'd hire

to rough someone up. No offense.

Assumed you were bad news.

Do you know if Sanchez

and Orozco had
any recent contact

with Calvin Franz or Tony Swan?

Actually, yeah. He was
here a couple weeks ago.

They hadn't seen
each other in forever.

I took a picture of them.

They were working
a case together.

Sanchez told you that?

Yeah.

What was it?

He didn't mention details.

Was Swan involved?

He didn't come down to A.C.,

but I heard them
mention his name.

You tried asking
Franz about this?

- We can't.
- Why not?

Someone threw him
out of a helicopter.

Oh, my God.

You think Jorge and
Manuel are dead, too?

We don't know yet.

If they're alive,
we'll find them,

but we need your help.

Is there anything
else you can recall

that you haven't told us?

Um...

I don't know.

Last time I saw Jorge,

he was sitting on
that stool right there.

He got a call.

Seemed important.

He say anything?

Kind of. He-he repeated
a couple of numbers,

kind of like he was
surprised by them,

or-or worried, maybe.

Then he said he was
going out for a while,

and he never came back.

Do you remember the numbers?

Yeah. He said,

"650 at 100k each."

No idea what he meant by that.

You're sure that's what he said?

I'm positive. He
said, "650 at 100k,"

he kissed me on the cheek

and he ran out that door.

You remember the last words
someone you love said to you.

We've got the numbers,
we've got the New York plates.

Maybe this isn't about someone
with a grudge against the 110th.

If you haven't
noticed, it's pretty likely

four of us have already
been killed already.

Milena said Franz was
here a couple weeks ago.

If the guys were onto something

that made them think
we were all in danger,

they would've called
then, not weeks later.

650 at 100k, we're
talking 65 million bucks.

That's a lot of black chips.

Most places. Not here.

Atlantic City casinos
rake in, what?

Gross gaming revenue's got to
be a couple billion a year, easy.

65 million, if taken carefully,

over time, could go
unnoticed for a while.

Not that long.

Not with casino accountants
watching the take like hawks.

But could the bad guys
hide it in the margins

long enough to get away with it

before the calculator
crew catches on?

Sanchez and Orozco do
freelance casino security.

I mean, maybe it
all started with them.

They stumbled onto something
big, they needed help...

So they reached out
to Franz... maybe Swan.

Guess this whole thing
could be tied to gaming.

I'm Ellie, I'll be your server.

What can I get you?

The casino's
director of security.

Now, please.

So, you're the 110th.

What's left of us.

Sanchez and Orozco talk
about you guys all the time.

Please.

So, you knew them well?

Uh, yeah. They would
do background checks

for all the casinos
on the boardwalk.

Hold on. Uh, you
just said "knew them."

Past tense.

We have reason to
believe they might be dead.

Oh, shit.

I-I just saw them,

uh, while I was picking up lunch
at White House Subs last month.

How can I help?

These numbers
mean anything to you?

Not offhand.

What about the phrase,
"650 at 100k each"?

No. Uh, what's this all about?

We think Sanchez and Orozco

may have been looking into
a $65 million gambling scam.

Okay. Uh, well, in that case,

your "650" could be
rigged slot machines

or fixed hands of poker,
but at 100k per hand,

that'd be incredibly
high stakes.

And I can tell you right
now, our books are on mark.

All right? We're
not missing a penny.

What about your competitors?

You know, I can...
I can ask around,

see if anyone knew what Sanchez
and Orozco were working on.

That might narrow
it down for you.

While you're at it,
run these names,

see if any of them are
registered at a hotel in town.

Uh... you know, this-this
might take a few hours.

Where are you guys staying?

Don't know yet.

Well, then, please, allow me.

Not necessary.

No, no. Any friends of
Sanchez and Orozco.

Well, it looks like

all we have
available is a suite.

I guess that'll have to do.

Come on, I'll get
you guys settled in.

We'll be fine at a motel.

Reacher, when someone offers

to comp you a
suite, just say yes.

Yeah. We'll have them send
you up a park bench to sleep on.

You'll feel right at home.

What was that about
a motel, Reacher?

Whoa. I bet this
place has a spa.

I'm gonna take a schvitz.

Ooh. Dibs on the ocean view.

O'Donnell and
Neagley found the bar.

It's fully stocked.
Not for long.

You unpacked?

Yup.

I haven't been in a hotel

that wasn't advertised as
"family friendly" in years.

I still can't believe

David O'Donnell procreated.

On purpose, anyway.

Yeah, I seem to remember
someone bragging

that the only people
that would call you Daddy

were the women you slept with.

I still sleep with people
who call me Daddy.

Sometimes all three of
them if it's thundering outside.

You'll find out
soon enough, Dixon.

You're pregnant?

What? No. Shit no.

No, she's engaged.

What, you didn't know?

Someone finally
lassoed our little filly.

No, I, um, didn't...

Yeah. Well, about that,

you guys can, uh,
unsave the date.

Fuck. Seriously?

Yeah, I mean, you know me.
I've always been a numbers gal,

always had a life plan.

Plan said to get married at
a certain age, certain year.

And then one day, I see
text messages on his phone.

It says, "Hey, sweetheart,
can't wait to see you Friday.

I miss you." And all of that.

No. No one steps out on Dixon.

Not even him, apparently.

Text messages
were from his niece

who was visiting.

But I realized

that when I thought
he was cheating,

I was, uh...

I was relieved.

I mean, he's a decent man.

I... I don't know, if
you're gonna spend

the rest of your life with
somebody, don't you want to

feel something
more than comfort?

I mean, don't you
want to feel excitement,

a little jolt of something

when you see him?

Anyways, you know, for a moment

I thought I was gonna get out
of it with no mess and no guilt,

but instead, I
got out of it with...

A lot of mess and
a whole lot of guilt.

Bingo.

Good for you.

Karla Dixon doesn't settle.

Thank you.

That's actually why I
took the undercover job.

Take a little time
away from it all.

Explain to me how
undercover work

and forensic
accounting go together?

Well, um, CEO
embezzling millions

from a company down in Texas,

where everybody's
packing some kind of heat,

and he was the kind of
guy to use it if cornered,

so got a little intrigue along
with the number-crunching.

All right. And what
about you, Neagley?

Every time I check my LinkedIn,

you're getting promoted again.

I'm having fun.

On big cases,
running a team now.

Trying to land this huge
software company as a client.

I pull it off, I get a
taste of that fat contract.

Making it rain.

No choice.

I really want to get my dad
on round-the-clock nursing care

and rent him a nice place
closer to me, but that takes capital.

Why rent? Buy and build equity.

Get a condo.

Co-ops are fucking
banana republics.

Yeah.

What about you, big dog?

Being awfully quiet over there.

Home ownership is like
keeping snakes as pets

or ballroom dancing
competitions.

Fine, if that's
what you're into.

I just don't see the appeal.

Or the appeal of a steady job.

Corporate world doesn't
seem that different

from the Army, and that
always felt a little like a cage.

Just didn't know anything else.

Then one day I was in a bar,
and someone plays Howlin' Wolf

singing about trains
going by in the night.

That sounded like
real freedom to me.

Are you jumping on freight
trains like Boxcar Willie?

Sometimes.

Mostly I take
buses or hitchhike.

What kind of lunatic

is picking up the
world's biggest drifter?

They can be interesting.

Where do you eat?

I steal pie off windowsills.

I'm being serious.

Diners. Sometimes
people who pick me up

share a meal with me.

Sometimes I share with them.

Where do you sleep?

Cheap motels mostly.

And what if you can't find one?

Unattended boats in
marinas are good for a night.

Flatbeds of parked trucks.

Had a great night's
sleep in a hammock

I spotted in some
guy's backyard once

till the sprinklers went off.

Good God, man.

All you need is a
stick and a bindle.

Too much luggage.

Any more questions?

Yeah,

just one.

Don't you ever get lonely?

Looks like someone took the sign

as a personal challenge.

Doreen, I'm just warming up.

If you liked the dinner,

make sure to try
Neptune's breakfast buffet.

Every day, starting at 6:00 a.m.

Thank you.

Looks like I'm not the
only one who couldn't sleep.

Numbers relax me.

Figured if I was gonna do math,

I might as well make some
walking-around money.

- Stand.
- Ma'am, you're showing ten

and eight on two of your hands.

That's right. And I
could double down

and risk it all
for a potentially

larger payout.

Or I could stand and
have a guaranteed win

because the next card out of
that shoe is gonna bust you.

My grandmother
always said, pigs get fat,

hogs get slaughtered.

She's no hog.

I'm no hog,

so I'm gonna stand.

As you wish. 15...

Too many.

Congratulations, ma'am.

You're having a
very lucky night.

Maybe you'd like to
celebrate with a concert on us?

Thank you.

Ladies of the '80s.
Debbie Gibson, Tiffany,

and Taylor Dane
performing their biggest hits.

If you hurry, you can
actually catch the second half.

But I'm having fun.

Ma'am, we know
you're counting cards.

Which isn't illegal if
you do it in your head.

But seeing that
your chief of security

was kind enough
to comp us a suite,

I'll cut you some slack.

Want to use those muscles

and help me carry these
to the cashier window?

And you can give these tickets

to the guy in the
Members Only jacket.

He looks like he would
enjoy some '80s ladies.

Thanks for coming with.

Late-night walks
always clear my head,

and after the text I got
from Neagley about Franz,

my head's been kind
of cloudy, you know?

Yeah.

I'm surprised
you can walk at all

with all the casino's
money in your pockets.

Can I assume the
forensic accountant's

gonna declare that
cash on her taxes?

Those crooks?

If there's anybody
I could audit...

Actually, it's kind
of my dream job.

Current gig doesn't give
you your auditing fix?

No, I'm just
busting millionaires

from stealing from billionaires.

What I really want to do

is go after government
corruption and waste.

Oh, you used to
work for Uncle Sam.

You know what I'm talking about.

$600 toilet seats.

Exactly. I mean, if tax
money was spent efficiently,

honestly, we could fix roads
and bridges and schools.

Like, we could help people
who actually need help.

We could make a difference.

You should do it.

Yeah. Well, I looked into

starting my own
nonprofit watchdog group,

but start-up costs
are prohibitive.

First step's always the hardest.

Yeah.

Is that why, back in the day,

you and I never happened?

First steps were the hardest?

How much did you drink
back at the hotel room?

Enough to ask you that question.

I mean, come on, Reacher.

It's not like I didn't
drop any hints.

I was your boss. It
wouldn't have been right.

Wow. Well, I waited
years for that answer,

and it's pure Reacher.

Direct, honest
and well-reasoned.

So, can I ask you
another question?

What do you want to do about

the two guys that
are following us?

When'd you spot them?

Ooh, when we left the casino.

Figure they saw us cashing out

and now they're
gonna try to rob us.

That's what I thought, too.

But see that car

parked up the street with
the New York dealer tags?

Yeah.

Pretty sure it was behind
us on the expressway

when we came into town.

Also, pretty sure
when we walk by it,

a man with a gun will step out.

Then, when we turn to run,

the guys behind us won't
be so far behind anymore.

So what's the plan?

We're not gonna
walk by that car.

On my "go," over the fence.

Go.

Fuck.

Go, go.

Okay, there's got to
be a warrant out for you

in New York for
hitting that cop.

We open fire in
a residential area,

cops get called,
you get locked up.

Let's do this without guns.

Looks like they
have the same idea.

Need help with yours?

I'll manage.

Aah!

Aah!

Damn, Reacher.
When we were kids,

we just wrote our names in it.

It's the Members
Only jacket guy from

the casino.

Oh, shit.

If they went after us,
they might go after

Neagley and O'Donnell, too.

No, they waited

until we were off the
boardwalk to make their move.

They're not gonna
go into a busy hotel

with cameras everywhere.

No I.D.

Let's search this asshole's car.

Looks like someone
did their homework.

Phone.

Is it done?

Not in the way you expected.

You're fucking with
the wrong guy, Reacher.

You should know that this
doesn't end well for you.

Then why are you the
one that sounds scared?

Think I got his attention.

Should we trace the number?

This is a burner.

Guy on the other end
will be using a burner, too.

Dealer tags are most
likely ghost plates,

VIN's been scratched off.

Nothing to I.D. any of them.

These guys are pros.

We should've left
one of them alive.

Yeah, but they didn't give
us much of a choice, did they?

Maybe not. Now we
have nothing to go on.

Not necessarily.

Parking lot pass.

"New Age Technologies."

- Yeah.
- Stamped yesterday morning.

I think it's what
you call a clue.

Now what are we gonna
do about those bodies?

I have an idea.

I'm thirsty. Want to get a beer?

Anything on New Age?

Yeah, looks like New Age

is an aerospace company.

Any ties to Atlantic City?

Not that I can see.

Headquarters are
based in New York.

Looks like a piece
of shrapnel bit me.

I didn't notice with all
the adrenaline pumping.

Barely winged you.

Here.

What you doing?

What my mom used to
do when the alcohol stung.

Mm. You know,
you're probably just

blowing germs into it.

Probably.

But it feels good.

Thanks.

Welcome.

You know, Reacher,

it's perfectly normal
to be lonely sometimes.

Anyone living their life
the way you do would.

But you don't have
to be lonely tonight.

And you're not my boss anymore.

All 650 will be in the truck.

You can track the shipment
with the GPS locater

I paired to this.

There are at least two
good ambush points

- marked on the route.
- Excellent.

My men will take
care of the rest.

And the weapons?

They'll all be used overseas?
I was told that was the deal.

Absolutely.

And the, and the truck
driver won't be harmed?

Of course.

I would never harm anyone.

Morning, Dixon.

We need to talk to you about
what happened last night.

Oh, the whole hotel heard
what happened last night.

Told you you were loud.

Found this in a car
that followed us down

- from New York yesterday.
- What happened

to the driver?

He won't be following us back.

Neither will his two friends.

Shit.

Who is it?

Wright.

Clear.

Come on in.

You, uh, you folks
seem a little jumpy.

I mean, I don't blame you,
given the circumstances.

And I hate to be the
bearer of more bad news,

but when I was
looking into things,

Atlantic City PD told
me that two more bodies

have been discovered
in Upstate New York,

near where they
found your other friend.

Judging by the decomposition,
they'd been there a while.

Got a copy of the
police report for you.

Pretty easy to
I.D. him with that.

When he joined the
Army, his sister was terrified

he'd be killed with
some disfiguring wounds.

She'd never know
what happened to him.

Said his dog tags
could be blown off.

To calm her down, he got
his name and service number

tattooed across his back.

Looked ridiculous.

He didn't care.

He loved his sister.

I'm gonna have to call her.

I'll tell Milena about Jorge.

Their wounds match Franzy's.

Meaning he was tortured
and tossed out of a helicopter.

Uh, one other thing.

Um, no one using any of
the names you gave me

have checked into any
of the hotels in town.

And I talked to my
counterparts at the other casinos.

Orozco and Sanchez,

they weren't working on
anything for any of them.

And when I told them about
the $65 million gambling scam,

they pulled their
overnight audits.

I did, too.

Everything is within
acceptable loss margins.

No one has hit
any of the casinos.

You don't have
anything to worry about.

Bodies were found in New York,

car that followed us
was from New York.

New York ghost tags,
New York parking pass.

This has always
been a New York case.

Where the hell are you going?

We're gonna need more guns.