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Original Air Date on April 23, 2015

 

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man

 

 

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== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man

 

My name is Alfredo,
and I'm an addict.

 

Wow, um... first time
I said those words,

 

I was 33 and didn't think

 

I'd make it to see 34.

 

If you told me
then that I'd be

 

getting my five-year chip now,

 

I'd have thought
you were high. Honestly.

 

But... here I am.

 

And it's because
of people in this room.

 

You guys gave me
my life back.

 

People like Libby... Tom...

 

Sherlock.

 

You're the reason I made
it five years clean.

 

And the reason that I got

 

my sights set on ten.

 

So thank you.
Thank you very much.

 

Right.

 

Hi.

 

Sherlock.

 

Lloyd.

 

Lloyd.

 

So, uh, you make a habit

 

of, uh, drinking
before the meetings?

 

Excuse me?

 

The-The mints, they're
not quite doing the trick.

 

I can still smell the whiskey.

 

And I did the last time I saw
you at a meeting.

 

I... have not been drinking.

 

No? And bringing

 

your flask into a meeting
is really sort of...

 

it's bad form.

 

I mean, you're either
lying to yourself

 

or you're lying to everyone here
about your...

 

your reasons
for being here.

 

The hell's that
supposed to mean?

 

Well, you know these
meetings are sometimes

 

spied on by, uh...

 

blackmailers, voyeurs,

 

agents of attorneys.

 

I come here for help.

 

Same as you.

 

Right. Okay.

 

Well, as the fifth step says...

 

start each day
on the right foot.

 

Right.

 

No. That's the slogan

 

of the coffee
you're drinking.

 

What's up, Sherlock?

 

Oh, this is Lloyd.

 

He's...
He was just leaving.

 

Just hang on, okay?

 

We're almost at
the hospital.

 

That should help with the pain.

 

You're doing great.
Just breathe.

 

See? We're here.

 

You're gonna be fine.

 

What was that?

 

You!

 

Get out!

 

Now!

 

Please, don't shoot.

 

Aah!

 

Please, I'm sick.

 

Please let me go.

 

♪ Elementary 3x20 ♪
A Stitch in Time
Original Air Date on April 16, 2015

 

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man

 

♪ ♪

 

Is there another angle?

 

Sorry, no.
I can zoom in a little,

 

but that's about it.
Just got off

 

with the 911 operator that sent
the ambulance on its last call.

 

Patient in the back
was a white female in her 20s,

 

fainted
outside a drugstore

 

in Chelsea;
couple people saw it,

 

called it in,
nobody got a name.

 

It's a good bet
her purse

 

and I.D. are in
the vehicle with her.

 

Still no sign of the ambulance?

 

Nothing yet.
That footage is all we got.

 

Let's remedy that, shall we?

 

Can I have a paper clip?
Thanks.

 

I think
it's your turn to ask.

 

All good things...

 

The longer we go
without a ransom call,

 

greater chance this wasn't
about our missing woman.

 

If there was
some other prime motive--

 

killing the paramedics,

 

stealing an ambulance--
any way you add it up...

 

That woman ends up
as collateral.

 

Here we are.

 

CSU missed a shell casing?

 

Well, to be fair,

 

so did the shooter.

 

We saw from the video

 

that he very assiduously
collected his shell casings.

 

But there were three shots;

 

he seemed to only pick up
two discards.

 

This one must have rolled
completely out of reach,

 

down that storm drain.

 

Is it me, or is that casing
a little beat up?

 

Indeed.

 

The bulges in the brass

 

and the stretch marks

 

along the base indicate
that this shell casing's

 

been used more than once.

 

Oh. You can use a casing
more than once?

 

It's a process
known as "hand-loading."

 

Spent casings are refilled

 

with primer powder and a slug

 

and then fired again.

 

Reusable bullets.

 

I suggest we look

 

for other crimes committed with

 

DIY ammunition.

 

It might not be the first time

 

he's shot at something
other than a target.

 

This is crazy.

 

I had no idea that reusing
casings was such a thing.

 

Never underestimate
mankind's passion for rendering

 

the tools of violence
and mayhem.

 

That is the third time
you've looked out the window.

 

Are you expecting someone?

 

No.
No, not really.

 

There's a slim possibility
I'm being surveilled.

 

What?
At the meeting I attended last night,

 

I confronted a man
I believed to be spying.

 

On you?

 

Undetermined.

 

That was the second meeting
in a row

 

that he drew my attention

 

and each one was
at a different location.

 

That doesn't prove

 

that he was following
me, of course.

 

But he was lying

 

when he said
he was there to get help.

 

That much was obvious.

 

Should I be worried?

 

Mmm.

 

What is it?
Olivia Harris.

 

20-year-old prostitute.

 

Shot to death on Staten Island
last July.

 

A presumed
trick gone wrong.

 

Ballistics confirmed that
the ammunition used to kill her

 

was hand-loaded.

 

Just like the casing
from this morning.

 

Police were ultimately unable
to identify her killer,

 

though they did flag
several gun enthusiasts

 

as persons of interest,
including this man.

 

That's him.

 

That's the shooter
from the hospital.

 

His name is Wallace Turk.

 

I don't know
what you want me to say.

 

Some information about the woman
you abducted would be nice.

 

Her name, for example.

 

You may have gotten away

 

with killing Olivia Harris
last year,

 

but we've got
blood-spattered clothing,

 

taken from your trash,

 

that I know is
gonna be a match

 

for the two dead paramedics.

 

We've got security footage

 

that shows you
pulling the trigger.

 

You're not doing
yourself any favors

 

with the silent
treatment.

 

Do you want to know
what happened

 

to the woman in the back
of the ambulance?

 

All right, fine.

 

Two murders, three murders--

 

I'm looking at life either way,

 

right?

 

I killed her.

 

What did you do with the body?

 

Don't remember.

 

What's he doing?

 

I'm not gonna lie
to you, Mr. Turk.

 

You'll be eating off a metal
plate until the day you die.

 

He touched my shoe.

 

You help us recover
the body of that woman

 

and we'll put in a good word
with the DA.

 

Maybe get you a window
at Sing Sing.

 

Look, she can rot
where I left her.

 

I'm not telling you
where she is.

 

You may already have.

 

The treads in your boots
are laden with sand

 

and bits of smooth cordgrass

 

that are still moist.

 

You've mucked about

 

in an intertidal
salt marsh today.

 

What are the odds that
we'll find her in or near one?

 

What's that you say?

 

One hundred percent?

 

When we get the records

 

for your cell phone,
are we gonna see

 

that it pinged in the vicinity

 

of any salt marshes today?

 

That's idiot for "yes."

 

Ghastly, wretched tune, no?

 

I've always found Sousa

 

the musical equivalent
of a leaf blower.

 

What are you doing here?

 

A hole opened up in my schedule,

 

so I thought I'd go somewhere
I don't belong.

 

That's fair,
isn't it,

 

Mr. Anthony Sellers

 

of 345 Rosalind Road?

 

How did you find me?

 

Next time you surveil someone,

 

wear plainer clothes.

 

They recognized you

 

at the municipal golf course,

 

whose logo you flaunted.

 

You're a private detective

 

and you've been
following me, no?

 

No.

 

The truth, "Lloyd."

 

Or your son and his
friends will witness

 

the very loud end
of our tragic love affair.

 

Very well.

 

I wasn't following you.

 

Okay?

 

It was your buddy.

 

Llamosa.

 

Alfredo?

 

Yes.

 

He's in a lot
of trouble.

 

So, what, he just...

 

ditched the ambulance
out here in the open?

 

Unis found it about
30 minutes ago.

 

No fire, no bleach...

 

we ought to be able
to pull prints.

 

Now, CSU's on their way.

 

MLI, too.

 

Her name is Maggie Halpern.

 

I.D. was in her purse,

 

under the gurney.

 

Killer didn't make any more
of an effort to hide who she was

 

than he did to dispose
of the vehicle.

 

He gutted her.

 

Right after he slashed
her throat.

 

This was gonna be
found eventually.

 

Why didn't Wallace Turk
just tell us where she was?

 

Because I don't think
he's the one who killed her.

 

He confessed.

 

When I first got here,

 

the body was still warm,

 

most of the blood on the floor
hadn't even dried yet.

 

We can wait for the coroner to
confirm, but if I had to guess,

 

I'd say she was killed
in the last couple hours.

 

Wallace Turk has been in
custody since what? Noon?

 

I think he left her here,

 

and somebody else came
to finish the job.

 

A partner?

 

If I'm right,
that person's still out there.

 

First measure of liver
temperature 35 degrees Celsius?

 

And that ambulance
wasn't exactly an oven.

 

She was probably alive
for about three hours

 

after Wallace Turk
left her tied up.

 

CSU found a pair of shoe prints

 

in the sand near the ambulance.

 

Turks and whoever
he's covering for.

 

His partner is a leftie.

 

Took a pretty savage swipe
at her carotid.

 

That was the
cause of death.

 

Everything else
came after.

 

Well, this incision
is much more precise.

 

He took his time.

 

It seems strange
that he'd be so careful

 

about inflicting one wound
and not the other, right?

 

It gets stranger.

 

She's missing a few organs.

 

Gallbladder, right kidney,

 

and a section of
intestine-- all gone.

 

Trophies?
I don't think so.

 

Her internal
wounds show signs

 

of scarring and
tissue regeneration.

 

I even found sutures.
She was healing.

 

Best guess?

 

Everything was removed
a few days before her death.

 

Kidneys go for upwards of
ten grand on the black market.

 

Maybe we're looking at some sort
of botched organ harvesting.

 

Where did this come from?
Tucked up under her lung.

 

Figured it was part
of a surgical drape.

 

No, it's not a drape.

 

And I don't think Miss
Halpern sold her organs.

 

I think she had them
removed to make room.

 

What?

 

This kind of polyethylene
plastic resin is used

 

to wrap narcotics.

 

I think she was a drug mule.

 

Half of this
woman's insides are gone.

 

I mean, if that were
true, that would be...

 

Extreme dedication
to one's work.

 

Or a desperate woman
hoping to make one big payday.

 

It would explain why the
incision into her abdomen

 

was done so delicately.

 

The person who killed her...

 

didn't want
to puncture the package.

 

It would also explain
why Wallace Turk

 

was so reluctant
to talk to us.

 

He wasn't just protecting
his co-conspirator.

 

He was protecting his score.

 

He keeps his mouth shut,

 

maybe someone he cares about
still gets paid.

 

With your permission,
Detective, I would like

 

to have another
conversation with Mr. Turk,

 

and see if any of
this loosens his tongue.

 

In the meantime, you and I
could take a closer look

 

at Turk's other co-conspirator--

 

Maggie Halpern.

 

It doesn't make any sense.

 

I lived with Maggie
for two years.

 

She barely drinks.

 

She doesn't smoke.

 

I used to tease her about
the one time I saw her jaywalk.

 

It's natural to be upset.

 

Maybe she wasn't the person
you thought she was.

 

You don't understand.

 

I'm saying you're wrong.

 

We know this
is hard to hear.

 

We just want to make sure
whoever is responsible

 

for Maggie's death pays
for what they did to her.

 

You said she just returned
from a trip to Brazil.

 

Do you know if it was
for business or pleasure?

 

Neither.

 

She had trouble with her weight.

 

Paleo, South Beach, that
cayenne pepper cleanse thing.

 

Nothing really worked.

 

She went to Sao Paulo
for gastric bypass.

 

It's a lot cheaper there.

 

When was the last time
you spoke to her?

 

The morning she left Brazil.

 

She called from the airport.

 

She was still in a little pain,
but... she sounded so happy;

 

so hopeful.

 

I wasn't here when
she got back.

 

I had to work.

 

Maybe if I hadn't...

 

Would you
like some water?

 

Why don't you let us
get that for you?

 

Okay.

 

Gastric bypass was a
pretty good cover story.

 

Maggie could explain away
the trip out of the country,

 

any follow-up appointments,
any pain or cramping.

 

What if she really did
book that surgery?

 

Well, you looked at her
pretty closely at the morgue.

 

If she had had
her stomach stapled,

 

wouldn't you have noticed?

 

She didn't.

 

But what if she
believed she had?

 

Look at the food in here.

 

Strained cream soup,

 

sugar-free gelatin, broth.

 

These are all staples of
the gastric bypass diet.

 

Why would she have these
in there, if she knew

 

she wasn't actually
having the surgery?

 

You think she didn't know
she was a drug mule.

 

If killing your mule
is part of your plan,

 

then why tell them
they're a mule at all?

 

Maggie goes under for LAP-BAND,

 

but gets turned into a
walking suitcase instead.

 

She comes back to New York,
clears customs none the wiser.

 

Only she gets
sick before Turk

 

and his partner
could scoop her up.

 

So they follow the ambulance
and then they kill

 

the paramedics
before anyone can

 

figure out
what's inside her.

 

We should get back
to the precinct.

 

If you're right,
there's a surgeon

 

the Brazilian authorities
need to question.

 

Well, it's official.

 

Dr. Bruno Escanso
of Sao Paulo is missing.

 

I got a hold
of a Captain Otero there.

 

He speaks English.

 

He said that Escanso
operated on Maggie Halpern

 

five days ago,

 

and hasn't been seen since.

 

He's gone?

 

Yeah.

 

That's the BOLO the police

 

put out to find him.

 

It says here Dr. Escanso's
married to an American woman

 

named Connie Turk.

 

Any relation to Wallace Turk?

 

She's his sister.

 

Explains how a creep
from Staten Island

 

can partner up with
a surgeon in Brazil.

 

Maybe Escanso's here.

 

He's the one who sliced up
Maggie Halpern.

 

It's possible,

 

but his passport
hasn't been used.

 

Either he laid hands
on a fake one or

 

he's still somewhere in Brazil.

 

Here's an

 

Little over a week ago,
40 pounds of diamorphine

 

were stolen from the hospital
where Escanso operates.

 

He became the prime suspect
after he disappeared.

 

"Diamorphine"-- that's
medical-grade heroin.

 

The purest of the pure.

 

40 pounds.

 

Even with a few organs missing,

 

there's no way
that Maggie Halpern

 

could've been
carrying all of it.

 

Maybe he sold some in Brazil?

 

Or he had more than one mule.

 

That would mean Maggie was not

 

the only person that
the smugglers killed.

 

I'll reach out
to Otero again,

 

see if he can get us a list

 

of Escanso's most
recent patients.

 

If Escanso and his partners
did utilize extra mules,

 

all 40 pounds of the diamorphine
could be in New York already.

 

There's a happy thought.

 

Well, if we can
locate the heroin,

 

we might be able to find the
man who butchered Miss Halpern.

 

Well, if it's here already,
it's as good as gone, isn't it?

 

Not necessarily.

 

40 pounds of concentrated
opiate can be cut

 

and processed into 300 pounds
of street-grade horse.

 

Now, even the largest
cartels lack the facilities

 

to perform that kind
of alchemy overnight.

 

It's hard to imagine Escanso and
Turk were working for a cartel.

 

The big syndicates have
their own pipelines.

 

They wouldn't waste time
planning a one-off score

 

like this, with amateurs.

 

Amateurs have to sell to
professionals eventually.

 

Well, the DEA should have
a list of cartels

 

that can handle
that kind of weight.

 

You two feel like
knocking on the doors

 

of a few drug lords
this afternoon?

 

Yes, I do indeed.
But I have to take care

 

of some personal
business first.

 

I heard a rather interesting
story the other day,

 

and I thought
you'd appreciate it.

 

Hello to you, too.

 

Apparently there's been a rash

 

of high-end car thefts
around the city.

 

Nice. Well, not "thefts" so much
as borrowings, I suppose.

 

The perpetrator breaks
into the vehicles

 

and then just moves them

 

a short distance.

 

Like from an owner's driveway

 

to the street, for example.

 

Or from one spot in
a parking garage to another.

 

Now, one thing that all the
misplaced cars have in common

 

is that they all have
the same security system--

 

a Castle S-50.

 

You consult for Castle
Automotive Systems, do you not?

 

Nope. Not anymore.

 

Oh, do tell.

 

We had a difference of opinion,

 

so we went our separate ways.

 

You got into a shouting match
with their lead designer

 

over his refusal
to address certain glitches

 

you'd identified
and then you got sacked.

 

Were you checking up on me?

 

No.

 

But others have been.

 

The man I confronted
the other day-- Lloyd--

 

he was hired by Castle
to surveil you.

 

What?

 

They believe that
you're the one

 

moving their
clients' cars around.

 

And now...

 

so do I.

 

Why are you doing it?

 

And don't tell me it's
'cause you got terminated.

 

In my youth, I was dismissed
from multiple posts.

 

Being ousted for
insubordination

 

to a mental incompetent
is its own reward.

 

I wasn't just fired, okay?

 

They bad-mouthed me
to my other clients.

 

You got the thickest skin
I've ever come across.

 

They said I was using.

 

Okay?

 

Sorry, but I can't
let that slide.

 

Not after everything
I've been through.

 

All the work I've done?

 

No way.

 

You got a record.

 

If you'd have been caught...

 

They're not gonna catch me.
Oh, so you've got

 

more pranks in store, do you?

 

So, how long you gonna
stay sober in prison?

 

Are you my friend, Sherlock?

 

Yes, I'm your friend.

 

No, you're not.

 

You're an addict,
I'm your sponsor-- that's it.

 

That's how it's
supposed to be.

 

For your own good.

 

Now, you want to come in here

 

because you're afraid
you might use?

 

My door is open.

 

You want to call me
in the middle of the night?

 

I will never
not pick up that phone.

 

But this thing
between Castle and me...

 

is none of your damn business.

 

So stay out of it.

 

I'm sorry, sir,

 

but I told you there's
no one here by that name.

 

Is everything okay here?

 

Dr. Wa, I'm Detective Bell.

 

This is my colleague
Joan Watson.

 

We're here to see
Janko Stepovic.

 

I'm sorry, but there's
nobody here by that name.

 

Presently, no.

 

He has a Serbian heroin
syndicate to run.

 

He can't conduct all
of his business in your office.

 

That's crazy.

 

But I know where you may
have gotten that idea from.

 

The, uh, the DEA were
up here last month,

 

and, um, they were
confused, too.

 

There's no confusion.

 

Janko's smart.

 

He knows doctor-patient
confidentiality prohibits

 

authorities from planting bugs
in medical offices.

 

Now, I don't know what you get
out of the arrangement,

 

but there's a stack of
surveillance photos this thick

 

of Serbian gangsters
strolling in and out of here.

 

So don't lie to us again.

 

All right, look, you
have to understand.

 

None of this was my idea.

 

One day, I am cleaning
this guy's teeth,

 

and the next, all of
his people are just...

 

they're just here.

 

We're not here about you.

 

We want to talk to Janko.

 

He might be able to help us
find a killer-- that's it.

 

Janko, this is Detective...

 

Get out.

 

I prefer police contact me
through my lawyer,

 

not my dentist.

 

We're just here
to exchange information.

 

About?

 

Almost 20 kilos of
medical-grade heroin

 

smuggled in from Brazil.

 

People who did it look
to be free agents.

 

Given the amount, there's
a pretty short list

 

of buyers who make sense.

 

I don't buy drugs.

 

Maybe not personally,

 

but your syndicate sources
all of its product

 

from the Helmand
Province of Afghanistan.

 

There was a tough
drought there

 

during the growing
season last year.

 

It hit you hard.

 

DEA says you guys are
running light on supply.

 

Other cartels could smell
blood in the water.

 

It's pretty easy to see why you
might be interested in a re-up.

 

I suppose...

 

if all that was true.

 

And if I sold heroin,

 

as opposed to running
construction business.

 

Come on.

 

We didn't insult
your intelligence.

 

Don't insult ours.

 

We're here because
the smugglers killed

 

a young woman named
Maggie Halpern.

 

Now, if any of their heroin
winds up in your hands,

 

the NYPD is gonna devote
all of their resources

 

to tying her murder
to you, Janko.

 

We done here?

 

No.

 

I haven't asked
for your help, yet.

 

We could make it
worth your while.

 

There's no way this
much heroin lands

 

in New York without you
hearing about it.

 

Help us find it,
and you can keep it

 

out of the hands
of your rivals.

 

You're weak-- the last
thing you need is

 

a competitor scoring a
load of high-end product.

 

You help us,
you help yourself.

 

What's going on in here?

 

I had some time,

 

so I thought I would
revisit a mystery

 

that has always
vexed me--

 

the true meaning of
the Voynich Manuscript.

 

What language is this?
Unknown.

 

As are the
species of plants

 

that the author drew
so meticulously

 

at the dawn of
the 15th century.

 

Some people believe that the
book is extra-terrestrial

 

in its origin.

 

I am not one of them.

 

Not really.

 

I thought you'd be in Ozone Park
with Bell and the captain,

 

enjoying the fruits
of your labors.

 

You heard, huh?

 

Janko Stepovic admitted
that our smuggler made contact

 

with him
several days ago

 

and then used an e-mail address

 

to set up a meeting tonight.

 

I must commend you
and the detective

 

on your powers of persuasion.
We'll see.

 

I don't know, maybe I'm being
unfair to Serbian drug lords,

 

but I'm a little nervous about
the sting Narcotics set up.

 

I keep checking
my watch.

 

You know, this may be
our only shot

 

at picking up
Maggie Halpern's killer.

 

Well, your food's
already in a bag,

 

so why not join
the stakeout?

 

I have plenty of
diversions and company.

 

So how did your errand go
this afternoon?

 

Poorly.

 

Do you want to talk about it?

 

I have some concerns
over personal decisions

 

that an associate of mine
has made, and I told him so.

 

Okay.

 

He reminded me that
we're not friends,

 

and he asked that I restrict
my concerns to those

 

that fall within the stated
parameters of our relationship.

 

Did that seem
unreasonable to you?

 

In fact, I know
that it is not.

 

Then what's the problem?

 

That's what I'm
trying to determine.

 

Tell me the smuggler
took the bait.

 

He never showed.

 

Neither did Janko.

 

I was afraid
we couldn't trust him.

 

Yeah, well, I don't think you're
the only one who felt that way.

 

Janko was shot outside a house
in Ditmas Park tonight.

 

He's dead.

 

What do you think they
were doing out here?

 

I mean, this neighborhood
is pretty vanilla

 

for a cartel shooting.

 

It's just right for
run-of-the-mill adultery.

 

Mr. Stepovic fairly reeks
of inexpensive eau de parfum.

 

I imagine it was not
originally applied to him,

 

but to his mistress.

 

You might want to keep
your voice down.

 

That's her standing
right over there.

 

Her name is
Trisha Dolan.

 

She says that's Janko's
bodyguard, Neno Milic.

 

They came for a visit, got hit
on the way out to the car.

 

She heard shots, called 911,
never saw the shooters.

 

There was more than one?

 

Janko was hit in the chest
by a nine millimeter,

 

in the legs by a .45.

 

Mr. Milic was also hit
by a .45-caliber weapon,

 

but at a more acute angle.

 

Yeah, that was
our take, too.

 

Ambush.

 

So Janko gives us
the person or people

 

who killed Maggie Halpern.

 

He doesn't show up to the sting,

 

and now he and his bodyguard
are dead.

 

Did they realize something
was up, track him down?

 

Well, the timing is
highly suspicious.

 

I imagine Mr. Stepovic is
a difficult man to track down,

 

especially to the home
of his girlfriend.

 

More especially
by the amateurs

 

that we suspect
our smugglers to be.

 

I think it's more likely that he
was killed by a rival syndicate

 

or a traitor within his own.

 

I would propose Miss Dolan

 

as the quisling,

 

but her shock and grief
appear to be genuine.

 

Well, you guys stay
on the Halpern thing.

 

We'll beat the bushes, see if
there's any word on the street

 

about who hit these two.

 

Any luck,
we'll meet in the middle.

 

Detective Bell.

 

Sarah Penley.

 

I'm an attorney with
Braun, McMahon and Gould.

 

What can I do for you?

 

We should talk
someplace private.

 

I believe you know
my client, Dr. Ward.

 

I know who killed
Janko Stepovic.

 

I know because
I helped them do it.

 

Before we go any further,

 

has Dr. Ward been
advised of his rights?

 

He has, but this isn't
a confession.

 

A confession implies guilt.

 

Dr. Ward bears no culpability
for the crime he's reporting.

 

He's a victim.

 

For the past 18 months,

 

he's been bullied, coerced
and strong-armed

 

by Janko Stepovic
and members of his cartel.

 

They forced him
to let them use his office

 

to conduct their business.

 

He relented because
he feared for his life.

 

But after what happened
last night,

 

he's no longer willing
to stay quiet.

 

The Serbians did that to you?

 

Actually,
they didn't.

 

Members of
a Chinese cartel,

 

Janko's rivals
in the heroin business,

 

came to Dr. Ward's
office last night.

 

They started
cutting off fingers

 

until Marty told them
where Janko could be found,

 

where he'd be vulnerable.

 

I knew he was seeing one
of my patients, Trisha Dolan.

 

They met in my office.

 

You have to keep
my client safe.

 

Your client is gonna
have to tell us

 

a lot more about
the Serbians

 

before witness protection
is on the table.

 

Racketeering,
drug trafficking, murder.

 

Take your pick.

 

But first, I need
a guarantee in writing

 

that Dr. Ward will receive

 

both protective custody
and legal immunity

 

before he says a word.

 

I'm sure you're aware the DA
doesn't give out immunity

 

to anybody who
tells a good story.

 

Dr. Ward would have
to demonstrate

 

that his information
is good before...

 

How about the location
of two dead bodies?

 

Yesterday, you said you
were looking for a killer,

 

someone who hid drugs

 

inside of a woman...
and gutted her.

 

Maggie Halpern.

 

I couldn't tell
you then,

 

but you were
in the right place.

 

It was all Janko's idea--

 

the smuggling, the surgery
patients, the whole thing.

 

Sometimes, when he and his men
would take over my exam rooms,

 

I would listen
through the air vents.

 

A few weeks ago, I heard him
talking about this guy, Turk.

 

He was the one who floated
the whole smuggling thing.

 

Turk had a friend,
a doctor, in Brazil--

 

Escanso, I think
his name was--

 

who could get his hands
on medical-grade heroin

 

and hide it inside
of his patients.

 

This woman you're
talking about, Maggie,

 

she wasn't the first person
they did it to.

 

She was the third.

 

He was right
about the two other victims.

 

He said their bodies were
dumped in a pond over the hill

 

from where Wallace Turk
left the ambulance.

 

Scuba team pulled them
up a little while ago.

 

Do we know who they were?

 

No official I.D.'s, yet,

 

but we have a
pretty good hunch.

 

Hector Trujo
and Missy Osborne.

 

Both were reported
missing late last week,

 

Both just got back
from trips from Brazil.

 

And their families confirmed

 

they were patients
of Bruno Escanso.

 

And Ward says
he can't be sure,

 

but he thinks Escanso

 

did make it here to the States.

 

If he did, you got to figure

 

he's the one who cut up
Maggie Halpern.

 

No Holmes today?

 

No, he had a late night.

 

Doesn't he always?

 

Do you think it's weird

 

that the killer was careful
in disposing of these two,

 

but not Maggie?

 

Well, he didn't have time
with her.

 

Wallace Turk had just shot
two paramedics,

 

and half the city was looking
for their ambulance.

 

Does Ward know
where we can find Escanso?

 

No, but once his deal

 

is hammered out,
he's gonna tell us

 

about every other facet
of the Serbians' operation.

 

We'll start making arrests.

 

Any luck,
one of Janko's lieutenants

 

will point us
in the right direction.

 

Leave a message
and then destroy this number.

 

It's me again.

 

Not showing up for the meeting
last night is one thing,

 

but not returning my calls
is another.

 

I stopped by your place.

 

Nobody answered the door,
so call me.

 

Let me know everything's
all right.

 

Alfredo Llamosa?

 

I'm Detective Nash.

 

This is Detective Bailey.

 

We were wondering if we could
ask you a few questions.

 

Sure.

 

You familiar with Faber Park
on 85th and Madison?

 

No. Why?

 

It's got one
of those elevator lifts,

 

the kind they use
for stacking cars.

 

Last night someone stole
12 different high-end vehicles

 

from around the city,

 

filled the whole damn thing.

 

What?

 

Total value of the vehicles

 

is over seven figures.

 

Frankly, I'm surprised
you hadn't heard about it.

 

It's been in all the papers.

 

My kid tells me it's trending.

 

All 12 cars

 

had an alarm system made
by a company called Castle.

 

As I'm sure you can imagine,
they're having a rough morning.

 

They think you're the reason.

 

They think I did this?

 

Can you account
for your whereabouts

 

between 9:00 p.m.
and midnight last night?

 

Mr. Llamosa?

 

I was going to meet a friend
at a support group meeting.

 

110 West 138th Street.

 

When he didn't show,
I went across the street

 

to wait for him
at a coffee shop.

 

We go there,
show your picture around,

 

they gonna remember you?

 

They should.

 

Oh, and just in case,
check with the MTA, too.

 

I had to take four different
busses just to get there.

 

I'm sure I'll show up
on those cameras.

 

We'll start with them.

 

Any luck,
the footage backs you up.

 

It will.

 

Course it will.

 

I didn't realize
you were gonna be here.

 

Hawes informed me the bodies
of the two remaining mules

 

had been found.

 

He'll be issuing
his reports momentarily.

 

Looks like the only thing
Dr. Ward was wrong about

 

was Bruno Escanso
being in New York.

 

The captain heard from his
counterpart in Sao Paulo again.

 

The police there had a near miss
with Escanso last night.

 

He reached out to his wife;
they traced the call to a hotel

 

just outside the city.

 

Apparently,
they missed him by minutes.

 

Here you go,
hot off the presses.

 

There are discrepancies
between these two victims

 

and Maggie Halpern.
Yeah.

 

A couple things.

 

Uh, in Miss Halpern's case,

 

the killer removed the drugs
and left her open.

 

Not so with these two.

 

To sink the bodies,
he filled their torsos

 

with rocks and then
sewed them back up.

 

Guy wasn't half bad.

 

Tight needlework,
consistent spacing.

 

Based on the quality
of this stitching,

 

I'd say your killer is somebody
with surgical experience.

 

Obviously not Escanso.

 

He never left Brazil.

 

When I reached out to the DEA
the other day,

 

they said some of the guys in
Janko's crew were ex-military.

 

Maybe one of them
was a medic.

 

No, I don't
think that's it.

 

I think Hawes is right.

 

A surgeon did this,

 

and we may already know
who it is.

 

Normally, if you're closing
an external wound,

 

you use monofilament nylon
or polydioxanone.

 

These sutures are multifilament,

 

made of polyglycolic acid,

 

which is
for more sensitive tissue.

 

They're used in pediatrics,
urology and oral surgery.

 

Wait.

 

Are you saying you think
Dr. Ward did this?

 

If he did,
it was quite brilliant

 

to strike a deal with
the district attorney's office.

 

So, if Watson's right,
if he is responsible for this,

 

he's about to get away
with three murders.

 

Dr. Ward, Ms. Penley,

 

thanks for coming back in.

 

I'm sorry we're late.

 

It's been a busy morning.

 

A lot of prosecutors lining up
for depositions.

 

Oh, I can imagine.

 

There was, uh, something
we wanted to show you.

 

What's that?

 

That is Dr. Ward's
undergraduate yearbook

 

from the University
of Manhattan.

 

We borrowed a copy
this morning.

 

You had great hair

 

and a freshman roommate

 

named Bruno Escanso.

 

The smuggling plot
was your idea,

 

not Janko's.

 

Excuse me?

 

You had your old college buddy

 

schedule three New York patients

 

as close as he could,
and then stuff them full

 

of the diamorphine
he stole.

 

Bruno's
brother-in-law, Wallace,

 

was willing to kidnap
the patients for a price,

 

but the real dirty work
was done by you.

 

You shouldn't have
signed it.

 

We took that
from one of your victims.

 

It comes from your office, no?

 

Marty, you don't have
to answer that.

 

You misrepresented

 

what this meeting was.

 

This is outrageous.

 

On that we quite agree.

 

Your client knew that

 

his Serbian suitemates
would pay top dollar

 

for heroin, and he went
to horrific lengths

 

to meet their needs.

 

It was all going
pretty well,

 

but then the mess
Wallace Turk made

 

brought us to Janko's door

 

and scotched any chance you had
of selling to him.

 

So you tried to sell
to the Triads instead.

 

What? No.

 

They cut off my fingers.

 

You think I went to them?

 

We know that you did.

 

And frankly, it's a miracle

 

that you kept your thumbs.

 

You're bad at this, Marty.

 

You're exceptionally bad.

 

You think that an outfit
as ruthless as a Triad

 

was gonna pay you
millions of dollars

 

when they could just easily
lop off your digits instead.

 

Wallace Turk was keeping

 

his mouth shut, but that was
only because he thought

 

there was still a payday
to be had.

 

But you knew that, once he
realized the drugs were gone,

 

he was gonna sell you out,
so you beat him to the punch.

 

Once you had immunity,

 

it wouldn't matter
what he said.

 

You would be untouchable.

 

In case you somehow missed
the point,

 

there's no honor among thieves.

 

Look over my shoulder.

 

First Triad we pulled
off the street

 

gave you up.

 

You come clean now,

 

you testify
against both syndicates,

 

and we can petition the judge to
keep you in isolation in prison.

 

No one will be able
to lay hands on you.

 

This meeting is over.

 

Marty?

 

Uh, I-I-I-I need to think.

 

That guy out there,

 

he's probably a cop.

 

This, they can't use it.

 

Physical evidence discovered

 

as a result of your testimony
is inadmissible.

 

They want to scare you
into saying something

 

that's not covered.

 

Martin, you should stay.

 

You're not gonna hear this offer
a second time.

 

It's not an offer; it's a trick.

 

You won't last a day in prison
without our help.

 

You know that, right?

 

He isn't going to prison.

 

I did it.

 

I Di... I did it.

 

Everything they just said, I...

 

It was my idea.

 

All of it.

 

Marty...
No, no.

 

They're right.

 

I am bad at this.

 

Tell me what you want me to do.

 

I didn't like hurting

 

those people.

 

If there had been
any other way...

 

You should put that in there.

 

This is Detective Yi.

 

He's gonna be printing you
and processing your arrest.

 

Explain.

 

It's a newspaper;
there's news in it.

 

Explain this.

 

Your slanderers have been
utterly humiliated.

 

I thought you'd be pleased.

 

I am.

 

So what's the problem?

 

I told you to stay out of it.

 

Because we are sponsor
and sponsee and nothing more.

 

Right.
Yeah, well,

 

I thought long and hard
about that, Alfredo,

 

and after many, many hours,

 

I've come to the most wretched
of realizations,

 

one that might curdle
your very blood.

 

You are my friend.

 

Sherlock... I know that's not

 

necessarily
in my best interests.

 

I'm not supposed to allow
my concerns for you

 

to interfere with my quest
for sobriety.

 

And you don't want the lines

 

between sponsorship and
friendship to continue to blur.

 

So I've arrived at a solution.

 

I'm firing you.

 

What?

 

You're sacked.

 

You're terminated.

 

Unlike Castle,
I will not defame you,

 

but suffice it to say
you're no longer my sponsor.

 

I've grown quite fond of you
the past couple years.

 

I care about what happens to you
outside of the program,

 

and I reject the notion that
I can't offer my commentary

 

when I believe

 

you're making a mistake.

 

You're firing me
so you can be my friend?

 

Yeah.

 

So you're gonna go
sponsorless now?

 

No, no, no,
I'll do nothing of the sort.

 

I'm gonna get a new sponsor.

 

Ideally with your help.

 

There's a meeting at St. Luke's
in half an hour.

 

There's some regulars there
that might be worth meeting.

 

Okay.

 

Shall we?

 

Oh, now that we're friends,

 

is it okay if I ask out Joan?

 

You're joking.

 

When I'm not being a sponsor,
I'm pretty funny.

 

Guess you'll have
to get used to it.

 

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man