MR 73 Page #3

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you obeyed His will.

Did you rape and murder

with God's cock?

You're a fraud, Subra!

You impressed those dumb shrinks

by acting holy!

Screw your twisted morality!

Let me cry in peace.

Keep your phony prayers!

Spare me your devotion crap!

Pneumothorax!

One of your cat's broken ribs

pierced his lung.

I'll keep him here a few days,

put him in an oxygen tent,

till he breathes normally.

If that doesn't work,

I'll extract the air

between his ribs.

Sounds complex,

but it's a simple operation.

Cats are very tough, don't worry.

What happened, exactly?

A cop squabble.

What do I owe you?

- You'll pay me when you fetch him.

- Thanks.

Know that place?

It's "The Ritz" for pets.

Private cubicles, exercising

with handlers and trainers,

psych unit if the pet's stressed,

runners to pick up your baby

at home, and bring it back.

Only snag's the price.

You interested?

Could be.

Mr Schneider?

I'm Justine Maxence.

Do you remember me?

Sorry, I'm tired.

Miss!

I had a hard day, forgive me.

I killed those women

just to watch them die,

my friend...

How did you find me?

Your photo, in the paper.

You're the only one who saw...

Who knows.

I need the truth

to stop imagining worse.

A cop's truth can be unpleasant.

It's the one I need to hear.

Same again, please.

I was young, I didn't know

that men did such vile things.

How old is he now?

He'll be 69 in 2 weeks.

I'm sorry.

There's one thing I can't forget.

The look in your mom's eyes.

What shocked us most...

is that she died

fearing the worst for her kids,

and that he made himself a meal

before leaving.

They found traces of it

on the kitchen table.

According to the coroner,

your mother agonized

while he made his chow.

Thank you.

Richard?

Southern Kennels

They go out three times a day

for walks with qualified handlers.

They're only inside

to sleep and eat.

The rest of the time,

they gambol in the park.

How long will you leave it?

How big a staff do you have?

Including

the nighttime security men,

we must have 15 employees.

Care to see the other buildings?

How did you get our address?

I'm a friend of Vera Rosenberg.

She recommended me your place.

Mrs Rosenberg. Indeed,

she's a faithful customer.

She was.

What do you mean?

She was murdered

in her apartment 2 weeks ago.

Murdered, by whom?

We don't know.

Mathias!

I said, don't smoke in the vans!

Some pets can't take it!

He's our house runner,

picks up the pets from the customers

and takes them back.

He's a bit unruly,

but the dogs love him.

I have to go, I'll be in touch.

Fine.

What time did you fall asleep?

I don't know.

No alarm in your cell?

I don't need one.

Was he already asleep?

He was crying.

And you let him cry?

It's the rule among inmates.

Then?

I lay back,

closed my eyes and prayed,

waiting for sleep.

Didn't you realize he might do it?

If all who cry here

killed themselves,

there'd only be empty cells.

You knew he was depressive?

I'm not a doctor.

At night, he left his bunk

and hung himself,

and you heard nothing.

It's the pills I take.

He's been under heavy psychiatric

treatment for years.

OK, you can take him back.

Take him to the infirmary,

till he's over the shock.

Your opinion?

Yours matters, not mine.

No traces of a struggle,

no marks on the body,

no known inmate hatred,

victim was depressive.

For me it's settled:

Suicide. I'll tell the Board,

case closed.

OK, we'll go...

Sorry about the noise.

See you tomorrow.

Why are you here?

I got work for you.

Do some comparative tests.

If the DNA matches,

we've got our killer.

Your goofs cost me this case.

Kovalski reported

the tests you swiped,

now we're both in deep sh*t.

Screw your investigation!

And the jewelry

you swiped from Vera Rosenberg?

What do you mean?

I want the results in 24 hours.

MR73, collector's model.

Made by Manurhin,

part of a special set

shown in Las Vegas

before it was marketed.

Gift from my first boss,

when he retired.

It's prettier than a dame!

Care for a drink?

What's up?

I found our killer.

We nab him via his DNA.

Works in a ritzy kennel.

Name's Mathias, that's all I know.

What can I do for you?

For the outfit you're a goner.

I can't take you along,

it's too risky.

You'd rather Kovalski

got the laurels?

Wanna remain a Lt all your life?

You tinker in your garage,

your wife's an eyesore,

your kid despises you,

your home's a dump

you can't park your ass in.

Most lives are like that.

Granpa!

He's dead.

Granpa.

In case it turns bad.

Police! Hit the deck!

Fast, you f***er, don't move!

Don't move back!

On the floor!

Drop the bucket!

Put it down!

Louis, you OK?

Sick him!

Louis!

Shoot!

George!

George is dead.

The hospital called.

You knew Mathias Becker's dad

is a cop?

Security branch.

Boss for the Nice area.

He got his son that job.

You'll pay the full price.

I can't do a thing for you.

A dead cop,

a son of a cop, shot by another cop,

who's hardly a cop anymore.

When you dive into sh*t,

you splash everyone!

And for zero results.

Unauthorized arrests at gunpoint,

acts incompatible

with your present status.

The Press and the Law

will have a heyday!

In short,

we're soaked before it rains.

You could award the arrest

to George Mateo,

bury him honorably,

and stick me with the rest.

Becker's dad

is about to be named

deputy head

of the national Security Branch.

I don't think he, or his superiors,

want it known that his runt

raped and killed 5 women,

and was shot by cops arresting him.

It's a simple deal, Schneider:

You surrender your badge,

and leave with 70% of your salary.

We'll pin the screw-up

on George Mateo,

and find new motives for the arrest.

You agree to clam up

on this tragedy.

What about the families

of the victims?

Right now, to hell with them.

Son of a cop or not,

he committed vile murders,

in the vilest of manners.

Our job is putting a name

and a face on such acts.

Becker died before he could confess.

We'll never know

if he was the killer.

We got his DNA, that nails him.

That evidence

has unfortunately gone astray.

We have no more proof.

The dead can't bother anyone, Capt.

That's how it is.

You have an hour to decide.

If you opt for revealing the truth,

we have all we need

to put you behind bars.

Think of your wife.

Who'll help her while you're inside?

What's your problem with him?

There's no more problem.

Just a broken man

being buried alive.

I need your help, Marie.

Where are you?

Meet me at the morgue.

Roques, it's Kovalski.

Get some guys,

meet me at the morgue.

I'm Capt Angeli.

We need to verify

a corpse delivered today.

Got a court order?

No need, it's an unofficial request.

- What name?

- Becker.

There was a fire in a squat.

We got no room to stack 'em.

What do we do now?

I get his DNA,

and you validate the procedure.

What's this? You can't do that!!

F*** off, you!

Stay out of it!

Stop!

Zap him, Roques!

You shithead!

Get out of here.

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