Over now to Science Prison in Germany, where David Jones awaits his lawyer, who looks like the child of Clive Owen and Mr. Bean. No, I don't know how that would work. "Mr. Kohl. Please come in," he says, practically hissing.

So we're at a fake big-box hardware store called Tool Rack because Peter and Walter need some tools for removing people from safe walls. Walter's giddy at the size of the place, and calls it unprecedented. Peter says, "Actually, it's completely precedented. There are stores like this everywhere, Walter. All around the world, in every city," somehow forgetting that his dad has been locked up for a long time. "Well, if anyone knows that, it's you," says Walter, which Peter takes great offence too. Walter says he just meant that Peter has traveled extensively. "No, you were implying that I haven't stayed still much in the last fifteen years," he says, and rattles off another too-perfectly-composed monologue (not that Joshua Jackson isn't used to those, though, I suppose) about Walter being disappointed that Peter hasn't made more out of his life. "That's what you're implying," says Peter. "Yes, I suppose so," says Walter, quietly. Oh, but Peter's nowhere near done. He snarls that the reason the store seems like such a miracle to him is that he's spent the better part of the last two decades locked up, and blah blah blah, you don't know me, blah blah blah, your fatherly judgments are moot, wah wah wah.

The touching father-son moment is interrupting by an employee who asks if she can help them find anything. "We're looking for an electric saw, preferably with variable speed and an easily replaceable blade system," says Walter. She asks if they're cutting wood. "Human tissue. Flesh and bone. It's more sinuous than you may expect," says Walter. Hee. Peter does his best to laugh it off and tells her that it's not that dire, with Walter muttering that it's potentially far worse. She brightly says that the serial killer saws are around the corner, next to the routers. She turns and starts to walk up the stairs to the second level. "No need to call the police," says Peter. She doesn't say a word, just quickens her pace.

While David Jones sketches a portrait of a woman, attorney Clive Bean Kohl tells him the sentencing is scheduled for next week: "As I told you before, I think the best we can hope for is life." Life sounds pretty good! Kohl starts to talk about filing an appeal, but Jones interrupts to ask if his "people" have any news for me. Kohl: "Yes, they said that the job in Philadelphia was successful." From the look on the lawyer's face, he's clearly figuring that something was stolen or someone got killed, or likely both, but he's not going to ask that question. Jones says to tell them that they are to wire Loeb another $100,000 and to inform him of the location of the next item. "I'll pass that along," says Kohl, hoping all the money he's getting paid will help him sleep tonight.