Bosch

I was having an affair. Stan must have suspected.

He put a hidden camera in the living room.

What do they have on you?

A video the night he died,

and a text I sent last night.

How'd they get the text?

A wire tap. Is that legal?

We'll find out. Who'd you text?

My lover.

Did he text you back?

Yes.

We'll assume they have that, too.

Is he part of this?

Yes.

And the video... you've seen it?

Me walking through my living room

when I was supposedly being held hostage.

The demand photo was staged.

I just wanted a way out of my marriage, that's all.

- Stan wasn't supposed to die. - You have

nanny cam video of a woman walking around her own home

in a bathrobe.

At the same time she claims she was

- bound and gagged. - My client had nothing to do

- with her husband's death. - Very least,

she's part of a criminal conspiracy

that culminated in his murder.

She didn't need to pull the trigger herself.

We want to know who did.

I'll call the D.A.

I think we can make a deal.

Thanks.

- Can I help you? - Agent Sylvia Reece, FBI.

I'm looking for Detective Bosch.

I'll tell him you're here.

You don't need to babysit me.

Oh, I'm not.

You sure I can't interest you in a, uh...

- No, thanks. - I don't blame you.

As a cup of joe goes, it's a tasteless but efficient

caffeine delivery system. Which is not nothing.

Reece.

Sorry to keep you waiting. Thanks, Mank.

Anytime.

What am I doing here?

Sovereigns didn't kill Kent.

- His wife and her lover did. - You charging her?

D.A.'s making the deal now.

You still think it's Brenner?

About to find out.

I want to be there.

Why I called. Tell anyone you're here?

Not yet. Why?

Leaks. Don't want to spook her sweetheart.

We don't leak.

Right. Sit tight. Right back.

Gentlemen.

She claims she didn't know anything about the murder

- until after the fact. - Of course she didn't.

- She'll give up her partner? - She will.

Full cooperation with your investigation.

-And in return? -Conspiracy to commit extortion. Two years.

Seriously, two years?

She's got a lot to trade. Her co-conspirator

is a federal agent.

So fucking what? Somebody died.

That's the deal, Detective.

- When you're ready. - Be candid.

Nothing you say can be used against you

as long as you adhere to the parameters of the proffer.

About a year ago, I started having an affair

with Clifford Maxwell.

What the hell?

- I don't believe it. - 12 days ago,

he killed my husband, Stanley Kent, in self-defense.

How did the affair start?

He came to the house to brief Stanley

on new security protocols.

I had some follow-up questions.

Coffee turned into dinner, dinner into...

Where would you meet?

Hotels.

When it was clear that it was more than a fling,

I rented an apartment downtown.

When did you decide to kill your husband?

I didn't. I never decided

- anything of the sort. - My client

has been clear from the start that is not what happened.

Just trying to get her story straight, Counselor.

I wanted a divorce.

Stan refused to waive his rights to my patent.

I offered him half a million dollars to buy him out.

- A lot of money. - More than fair,

considering it was my invention.

But he refused.

Cliff came up with a plan

to force his hand.

I went along with it.

- What was Cliff's plan? - I needed Stan

to steal the cesium.

Why?

The morals clause.

It's a felony.

Voids the prenup, right?

He would lose rights to my patent either way.

Mine was the better deal. I thought he'd take it.

He stole the cesium under duress to protect you.

Any good lawyer could make that case.

Of course.

But Cliff was prepared to upload a social media package

linking Stan to the sovereigns.

My husband, the libertarian.

Who would a jury believe:

a sovereign sympathizer who stole enough radioactive

material to poison the entire city,

or the heroic FBI agent who brought him down?

It wasn't supposed to come to that, was it?

Stan was a smart man.

He stood to lose everything.

Sign the papers, return the cesium,

and nobody would be the wiser.

What went wrong?

Cliff went to the overlook to meet Stan.

Said Stan attacked him.

Tried to be a hero.

Cliff said he acted in self-defense.

So then to plan B: blame it on the sovereigns.

Yes.

Expect us to believe any of this?

Believe what you want.

My client has just handed you the man who killed her husband.

I got to call Brenner.

And I've got to call Chief Irving.

Good story. Fits what we have.

Bet Maxwell has a different version.

Can't wait to hear his side.

She lied, her deal goes out the window,

- we take 'em both down. - Amen to that, brother.

He's my partner. I should be there when you bring him in.

He trusts me.

I can help.

Please.

That was fast.

You got a way with that judge.

She told us to get results, and we did.

And we're up.

This is Maxwell's official feeb phone.

This is his back-alley burner.

Here we go.

Tell him you need to see him. It's urgent.

I need to see you.

I'll be waiting at the apartment. Please come.

Broadway Palace Apartments. 1017.

SIS is on site, SWAT is on standby.

We'll keep eyes on the apartment until he arrives.

If he arrives.

Take it.

- Cliff, what's up? - Uh, running late.

I got to check in with a CI.

- Anything going on? - Not a thing.

Okay. See you later.

- Think we're burned? - I don't know.

The jurisdiction is clear.

It's no longer a domestic terrorist threat,

it's a homicide investigation.

Maxwell is my guy. He falls under my purview.

I'm giving you the courtesy of a heads-up.

Let us do our job.

- No sign of Maxwell at the Palace Apartments.

Just got a ping on his burner.

He's on the 5 headed south.

- Making for Mexico? - His phone is, anyway.

All right, let's get an airship up. Get eyes on the car.

Pierce, Vega, coordinate with Orange County and San Diego.

We'll find a safe place to pull it over.

You know what, and...

- notify border patrol, just in case. - On it.

Let's go.

I think he's still in town.

I think the phone is a diversion to buy time.

She might've said something on the call, tipped him off.

Or he sniffed SIS, staked out the apartment.

Apartment's Broadway and Olympic.

He'd need a place with a view.

Across the street from the Ace Hotel.

P.I. tailed her there, one of their trysting spots.

I'm wrong,

- it's a 20 minute detour. - Nothing's 20 minutes anymore.

Hi.

- Hi. Welcome to the Ace Hotel. - Looking for this guest.

He checked in a couple hours ago.

Uh...

Terrace suite. Room 703.

- Still here? - Haven't seen him leave.

Thank you.

- Let me take the lead. - We wait for SWAT.

Billets. Yeah?

Santa Ana police stopped Maxwell's car, wasn't him.

He's at the Ace Hotel downtown.

Thought you were on your way south.