Burn Notice (2007–2013): Season 5, Episode 8 - Hard Out - full transcript

My name is Michael Westen.

I used to be a spy until...

- We got a burn notice on you.
- You're blacklisted.

When you're burned, you've got nothing...

no cash, no credit, no job history.

You're stuck in whatever city
they decide to dump you in.

- Where am I?
- Miami.

You do whatever work comes your way.

- You rely on anyone who's
still talking to you...

- A trigger-happy ex-girlfriend...
- Should we shoot them?

An old friend who used to inform on you
to the F.B. I...



You know spies.
Bunch of bitchy little girls.

- Family too...
- Hey, is that your mom again?

- If you're desperate.
- Someone needs your help, Michael.

Bottom line: As long as you're burned,
you're not going anywhere.

Low-tech explosives
may be clumsy and unreliable...

but their simplicity
makes them almost impossible to trace.

Sophisticated bombs, on the other hand...

are more effective but require expertise
and specialized components.

Which means the more lethal the bomb...

the more you know about the man
who wants you dead.

- Any progress?
- All I know for sure is this guy is a master.

A detonator wired to a depth finder.

I'm a little jealous I didn't
think of it myself.

Jesse's contact
did a chemical analysis of the C-4.



It was stolen from a batch
in the Soviet Union.

1988.

Dead end.

So, what now?

Try accessing the U.S. Counterterrorist
databases, see if I can find something.

Michael, you get caught
breaking into Homeland Security...

this bomb will be the
least of your worries.

If I don't find out who framed me, I'm
gonna spend my golden years in Guant?namo.

I could call someone I used to know.
He might be able to help.

- Do I know him?
- No.

But if you need this kind of information,
he's the person to call.

What, is there bad blood between you?

He likes me fine.
I'm less enthusiastic about him.

But under the circumstances,
I think he might be our best option.

I'll, uh... I'll send him the photos
and see if he comes back with anything.

In the meantime,
why don't you go over your old leads?

Maybe you missed something.

But don't forget we've got lunch
with your mom tomorrow.

- Michael, I'm talking to you.
- Yeah. Ma. What?

I was just saying that you better be
in a good mood for this boat ride.

You've been preoccupied all week.

We're going on a boat ride with this guy?
I thought it was just lunch.

This guy's name is Ben.
And it's not just any boat.

It's the new glass-bottom boat
that they're running out of Coconut Grove.

Go easy on him, Madeline.
He still doesn't know...

that some couples do things besides
fight multinational conspiracies.

You know, you could learn
a thing or two from Ben. Hmm.

Like taking Fiona here out more often.

A woman needs to be appreciated, Michael.

Thank you, Madeline.

Do you have anything to say to that?

I think we have a problem.
This looks like a trap.

- Who the hell are these people?
- I don't know.

- Jesus.
- Fi, you take the two behind.

I'll hit the guys in front.
On three. One, two...

- Put the gun down. I know what this is.
- You know what what is?

You know the contact I reached out to, the one
I told you about? This is just his style.

Fi, you don't have to do this.

Well, it's a little late for that.

Fiona, it's so good to see you.

I was just finishing up
some business in Rio when you called.

My pilot flew us here as fast as he could.

Did you really have to send
a fleet of motorcycles to pick me up?

I didn't have to. I wanted to.

So, can you tell me
who built the bomb or not?

Of course I can. You know me...
always a friend to those in need.

- What's your price, Armand?
- No price. My help is free.

All I ask is one small favor.

These are of Riker Munitions.
It's a weapons company out in Doral.

See that truck in the yard? On Thursday, it
will be loaded with armor-piercing rounds.

- I was hoping you could get it for me.
- You mean steal it for you.

I suppose you could call it that, yes.

Well, I count four guards
at the front gate alone.

Am I supposed to just shoot all of them?

I'll leave the details up to you. But if you
want me to find out who built your bomb...

I'll need you to get me this.

You can give me your answer, say, tomorrow?

I'll wait for your call.

Are you nuts?

We're talking about robbing
a weapons manufacturer.

I mean, I expect crazy talk
out of her, but you?

I don't like it either,
but we've hit a dead end...

finding who built this bomb.

Time's running out, Sam.

Well, can't you do
some other favor for the guy...

like mow his lawn or wash his plane?

That's not how Armand works. If we want
his help, we have to do as he asks.

That's funny. I heard the devil
works the same way.

- I'd do it myself, but...
- But Michael's new friend, Agent Pearce...

Has a top secret mission for him.

- Another one?
- Yes.

I'm just saying, the way the C.I.A.
Is working you on these hush-hush gigs...

reminds me of another group
of spies you used to work for.

You can say no. I'd understand.

I'll do it, Mike, but you're gonna...

buy me every mojito I
can drink for a month.

- Deal.
- Okay, good...

'cause someone's gotta keep
Tinker Bell here from shooting everyone.

Thank you.

Both of you.

Give my regards to Agent Pearce.

Good to see you again, Michael.

Agent Pearce, you look like
you could use a nap.

Mmm.

Got in on the red-eye from Cairo this morning.
My clock's still catching up.

How's our investigation coming?

Cairo was a bust.

Everyone Max knew there
is either dead or out of the game.

- Where does that leave us?
- Square one.

I'm done kicking over rocks,
hoping to get lucky.

The murderer was here in Miami.

That's where we're going to
refocus the investigation...

as soon as we're done with this.

Our new C.I.A. Assignment.

Steve Cahill...

lowlife who works as a go-between
for bad guys around the globe.

- We want him.
- You want him, as in you want to extract him. Why?

Anywhere Cahill goes,
nastiness usually follows.

If he's up to something,
we'd like to know what it is.

- Where do we find him?
- One of our agents heard him...

running his mouth in a Bangkok bar about some
big powwow he's got in the Caribbean tomorrow.

Our orders are to find out who he's
meeting, record what it's about.

And we put a head bag on Cahill.

- How big's our team?
- You're looking at it.

The brass wants to keep this
on the way down low.

Agent Pearce, a snatch-and-grab
like this takes at least three members...

two for the target and one for the getaway.

My bosses are willing to let me
bring someone else in.

The only catch is that
they'd have to have a security clearance.

Wait. You know somebody
with a security clearance, don't you?

Yeah, but he's not gonna like this.

I hope you appreciate
this is my first day off since Christmas.

It's an in-and-out job in the Caribbean.

- It's practically a vacation.
- Spoken like a man who's never taken a vacation.

Thanks for the ride, Fi.

Yeah. Try not to get shot.

Fi, I'm sorry I can't help you...

with, uh, the other thing.

It's fine. Sam and I will
figure something out.

I know you don't like Armand,
so it means a lot to me.

I said it's fine.

Michael, who is that?

That's Agent Pearce.

I think you might have left out
a few details when you described her.

You must be Fiona.

I read your file. As an employee
of the U.S. Government...

I'm probably not supposed...

to say this, but... wow.

Thanks. Michael told me
almost everything about you.

Oh? Well, I hope he was discreet.

When it comes to his work, Michael
takes discretion to a whole new level.

Oh, that's just how we're trained.
It used to bug the hell out of my fianc?.

Your fianc??

How does he put up with it now?
I could use some tips.

- Her fianc? is, uh...
- Dead.

Eight years now.

- I-I'm sorry.
- That's okay.

Michael, we should go.

- Thanks for letting me borrow him for a few days.
- You're welcome.

I'll take good care of him.

There's a reason
that everyone from 17th-century pirates...

to present-day drug smugglers
have operated in the Caribbean.

It's filled with tiny islands
that are close to major ports...

but outside the reach of national laws.

That said, the privacy that makes
the islands great hiding places...

also makes them vulnerable.

Your enemies may be able to hide from you,
but you can hide from them just as easily.

- Another coffee while you wait?
- No.

I've been waiting for two hours.
Where's your boss? This is unacceptable.

- Sir, he'll be with you in just a moment.
- He's cranky.

Jesse.

Looks like Cahill's mystery date
has finally arrived.

Well, look who it is.

- That's Miles Vanderwaal.
- And who is he, exactly?

A high-ranking mercenary
with a group called Optimal Outcomes.

He's torched more than his fair share
of villages to the ground.

He sounds like a sweetheart.

He's as sadistic as they come.

I wonder what they could
have to chat about.

Well, let's find out.

Any particular reason you're three hours late?
I am a professional.

Sorry, mate. Do I work for you?

Give the rodent his money.

Can I at least get a ride back to my boat?

You can get out of my sight.

That wasn't much of a meeting.
That looked a lot like a delivery.

Either way, our interrogators
will be asking Mr. Cahill all about it.

He's heading west.
We'll grab him on the trail.

I'll get the boat ready.
See you guys at the beach.

Properly scouting a facility's
security is a two-step process.

Observing the outside will tell you
about its physical defenses...

but to get a complete picture of your
target's manpower and security protocols...

you need to get inside their walls too.

I hope you enjoyed the tour. I think
you'll agree our facilities are top-notch.

No arguments here, but, uh, we need to
talk about the elephant in the room:

Your security.

- Our security is excellent.
- Care to be more specific?

I need to know about
intrusion detection systems...

security response procedures,
the whole nine.

I'm not allowed to discuss that.

Do I look like some doe-eyed twerp with a shiny
new M.B.A? Let's just cut the crap.

Now, my clients
are very security-conscious...

and very unforgiving of lapses.

- I understand that, but...
- No, I don't think you do...

because I can't advise them to hand
you a five million dollar contract...

until I know that their intellectual property
is gonna be safe on your assembly lines.

There are other fish in the sea.

Okay, fine.

You can talk
to our security team. Will that do?

That would be perfect.

Thank you.

Ooh. That bad, huh?

Yeah. It's that bad. An alarm goes
off anywhere in the complex...

and guards come swarming in,
in like 30 seconds.

- How many guards?
- I don't know.

- Ten, a baker's dozen. What difference does it make?
- Damn it.

Look. If Armand is just looking for a couple
of crates of armor-piercing rounds...

why don't we just get 'em someplace else?

It doesn't work that way.
If he wants that truck, we give it to him.

- What the hell does he care what truck it is?
- I'm sure he has his reasons.

All right. Well, unless we can do something
clever to get past those guards...

it's gonna get real ugly real fast.

Well, then, we'll have to
think of something clever, Sam.

Spies have long known it's a good idea...

to bring along a fast-acting drug when
you're targeting someone for extraction.

In the earliest days of espionage...

that meant a rag
soaked in chloroform or ether...

but now it's usually a syringe of propofol.

It works quicker
and has fewer side effects...

but shares one downside
with its predecessors:

You still have to get close to your target
to administer the dose.

Who the hell...

That's why it never hurts
to attack from two angles.

- Help! Help!
- Stop fighting.

- Get off me!
- It's better if you stop fighting.

You know, I could have
taken him myself easily.

We have a problem.
Remember when I said...

Vanderwaal works with
a ruthless group of mercenaries?

Vanderwaal didn't come here alone.

Their last transport boat just shipped out.

Let's move it!

Go, go, go!

- Let's go. Hey!
- Get all that off-loaded.

Damn. What the hell are they up to?

Whatever it is,
we're gonna have to deal with it alone.

There's no way we're getting past them
to our boat now.

- Mike, that would mean...
- It means we're not getting off this island.

When you find yourself
in a tough situation...

like being outnumbered 20-to-1
on an island crawling with mercenaries...

it's important to remember
that the key to any battle is intelligence.

It may be tempting to shoot first
and ask questions later...

but if you want to stay alive,
you ask questions first.

Rise and shine.

You guys are both dead.

When those mercs find my boat still here,
they're gonna come looking for me.

- And kill us? What do you think they'll do to you?
- Try nothing.

Oh? Oh, they must have a lenient policy...

when it comes to people leaking their secrets to U.S.
Intelligence agencies.

What are you talking about?
I didn't leak anything.

A Bangkok watering hole. Three mai
tais and a very expensive call girl.

- Ring any bells?
- Oh, Christ.

You guys are C. I. A?

Yes.

And if you want to keep breathing,
I suggest you start cooperating with us.

- I can't do that. You don't know what they'll do to me.
- Whatever it is, Cahill...

it's gonna happen unless we all get
out of this, so start talking now.

The mercs are about to launch attacks
in South America.

This island's their operating base.
Some shady oil conglomerate...

hired 'em to wipe out
a bunch of American outposts...

D.E.A. Secret bases, C.I.A. Safe houses.

And when they're gone, the conglomerate...

takes over the local wells,
and no one makes a fuss.

So you know their playbook.
The files on all the outposts...

that's what I delivered to Vanderwaal.

- Which outposts were they?
- Well, I didn't memorize them.

- They're all over the continent.
- Where'd you get the files?

- Some guy from the N.S.A.
- The N.S.A. Has a leak? I want a name.

Well, I don't know it. He used a cutout.
We didn't become Facebook buddies.

Forget about getting off this island.
Without those files...

we don't know who the N.S.A. Leak is
or which outposts the mercs are targeting.

- A lot of our people get killed if we don't get 'em back.
- Let's get 'em back.

All right. I took
a scenic tour of the island.

The base is here, airstrip's right here...

the satellite uplink is way over here...

and the hard-asses with the M4s...
they're kind of... everywhere.

We could try to get to the uplink
and call for help.

There wouldn't be enough time
for help to get here.

As soon as the mercs find that Cahill's boat
is still here, they'll know something's up.

What do you suggest we do?
Take on 50 guys with our handguns?

Well, if we can't beat 'em,
I say we join them.

What's that supposed to mean?

We need a reason to explain
our presence on the island.

I say we go in, say we're a covert security
team from the company that hired them.

I like it. I like it very much.

We say we, uh... we caught Cahill
betraying them. We saved the day.

Jesus, you're not kidding.
What about when they check us out?

We gotta make sure that doesn't happen.

We'll go to their comlink,
take it out, make sure they can't call out.

That is, bar none, the craziest play
I have ever heard in the field.

Well, you don't hang out with him enough.

Looks like the coast is clear.

No C-4, no thermite, no det cord.
Hell, we don't even have gasoline.

Yeah, you work with Mike, you get used to
doing without the perks of government work...

you know, things like equipment.

You ever miss it,
working for the government?

I don't know. Sometimes, I guess.

I made calls about you. Mm-hmm.

You were CIFA's wonder boy until...

- Michael Westen came into my life.
- So what's the deal?

Why work with the man
who ruined your career?

Free yogurt.

- Lots of free yogurt.
- Yeah, that's cute.

- You like that?
- It's really good.

All right. Let's burn it.

Destroying high-tech electronics...

with glorified camping equipment
is tough but not impossible.

The mix of nitrate and magnesium
in a marine flare...

burns at over 3,000 degrees.

With the right fuse,
it'll turn an electrical system...

into a smoldering heap.

Hey. For what it's worth, sorry we dragged
you all the way from home for all this.

Oh, no worries.
If it makes you feel any better...

things usually aren't
much easier back in Miami.

To hit a facility directly...

you just need a gun
and the willingness to use it.

Less-bloody approaches
require fewer bullets but more planning...

and more recruiting.

You want me to do what?

All you gotta do is tell them
that your car broke down...

ask to use the john,
toss the doodad in the trash and split.

- Easy peasy. No big deal.
- No big deal?

You're asking me to plant a bomb, Sam.

It's a smoke bomb,
timed to go off after everybody leaves.

Nobody gets hurt...
you know, except us, if you say no.

Who's this guy who wants you to rob
a-a-a weapons company?

Don't bother. Fi hasn't been too
forthcoming about this Armand guy.

You want me to get anywhere near this,
you better start talking, honey.

Armand got me out of Ireland
when nobody else could.

Passport, visa, cash.

But his help wasn't free.

What does that mean, "wasn't free"?

Well, my price for my ticket to the U. S...

was lookout duty on a job in Belfast.

Turns out that job was a kidnapping.

Okay. Who was kidnapped? Jesus.

Not an angel,
but nobody who'd done any harm to me.

I didn't know until after.

Armand kept his word. He always does.

Look. The point is, if we're gonna find out
who framed Mike for murder...

we gotta heist that place, Maddy.

And we'd like to do it
without killing anyone. So...

So, fine.

I'll do it.

So this is home then? After all the effort
you put into getting to Miami...

I expected something more.

What are you doing here, Armand?

Is that any way to greet a guest...

one who comes bearing gifts,
no less?

These automatic rifles
aren't even on the market yet.

You'll recall that
working with me has its perks.

I don't want heavy artillery.

I'm trying to do this job without guns.

Without guns?
What has Miami done to you?

As long as it gets done.

You should keep those just in case.

By the way,
I've been looking into your... bomb maker.

- And?
- It's fascinating stuff.

I'd love to tell you more,
but a deal's a deal.

But let me know if you need anything.

If you want to help,
I need a few pounds of metallic sodium.

That's intriguing.

You girls and your secrets.

Fine. You'll have it by this evening.

Speaking of help,
where is this boyfriend of yours...

- you went through so much effort for?
- He's busy.

Hmm.

Well, I hope he's worth it.

- How'd it go?
- The uplink's toast, but the mercs found Cahill's boat.

We gotta move. You ready?

I got what Cahill knew about the company
that's paying for all this.

It's called the Pyramid Group.
They got offices in Dubai, Vancouver.

He knew a few names, but that's it.

This is nuts. You'll get us killed.

You want to see tomorrow's sunrise?

You just nod and back up everything I say.

Can you nod? Good.

- Showtime?
- Showtime.

Getting stuck behind enemy lines...

is one of the hazards of being a spy.

When it happens, you can either hide
in the shadows and wait to get killed...

or you can march into the open
and take your enemy head-on.

It's a game of high risk, high reward.

Play it right, and you might survive.

- Halt! Identify yourself now.
- Get that weapon out of my face.

Where's the idiot
who's in charge of this fiasco?

He asked you a question, soldier.

This guy's brain-dead. Hey, jughead!

Which one of you is Miles Vanderwaal?

Miles Vanderwaal. I need to speak to...

You're looking for Vanderwaal?
You found him.

You got a death wish, mate.
My men are under orders...

to shoot intruders on sight,
when they remember them.

Now then, who are you?

We work internal security
for the Pyramid Group.

What is this, a security check?
Commander Jackson didn't tell me...

It wouldn't be much of a security check
if he told you about it!

- Jackson would never clear that.
- We write the checks.

Jackson clears what we tell him to clear.

I'm calling Jackson.

Oops. No signal? You want to know why?

- That's why.
- Caught this little weasel...

scurrying away from your satellite uplink
after he torched it.

- Isn't that right, little weasel?
- Cahill, you bast...

You stand down!

No one touches that man
until I get some answers.

You don't give the orders here.

How do I even know any of this is true?

Oh, you think we're lying, smart guy?
You think we're intruders...

who just landed on this island
with heavily armed troops...

we walked right up to you just to tell you
you have a broken comlink?

If your orders are to shoot us, then shoot.

Otherwise, put the weapon down
and help us secure the island.

When you're pretending
to be on the same side as your enemy...

it's critical to keep them from talking.

The more the bad guys can compare notes...

the more likely
they'll second-guess your story.

That's why you shut down
as many forms of communication as you can.

It won't make you any friends, but friends are
a luxury when you're trying to stay alive.

All right.
Listen up, grunts. Your security stinks.

It stinks worse than a garbage truck in August.
That is about to change.

Who does this guy think he is?
I'm sorry, soldier.

Am I boring you?

I guess you know everything
there is to know about security, huh?

I guess you didn't just let your only satellite
uplink get torched to the ground! Did you?

We're about to clean this mess up,
gentlemen.

- A.S.A.P. Is that understood?
- Yes, sir.

- I said is that understood?
- Yes, sir!

That's more like it. Now, until we find out
whether or not Mr. Cahill was working alone...

we will assume that our radios
have been compromised.

- Is that clear?
- Yes, sir!

Okay. Until further notice...

you will surrender your radios to me.

Let's go. Give 'em up.

Oh, he's really pushing it.

He knows what he's doing. I think it's safe
to report to Vanderwaal the base is secure.

Time to get him to show us those files.

And when he does...

any idea how to take them from an
elite squad of professional killers?

I'll figure something out.

It's not fit for scrap.

I'm gonna make Cahill suffer.

All in good time, Mr. Vanderwaal.

But for now, we need to make sure
that list he brought you is secure.

The list is bloody secure.

Do you have brain damage?

Have you forgotten? You're a mercenary.

My company has fronted you $10 million.

It's safe! And mind your tone.

Safe? Like that uplink?

Look how the accelerant was applied
to the conduits. That's the work of a pro.

We can assume that Cahill's working
with somebody, somebody with skills.

For all we know,
a team of highly trained operatives...

could be after those files right now.

Let 'em try.

I'm under orders from Commander Jackson...

not to show them to anyone
until I launch the operation.

Interesting attitude.

You know, maybe he's not worried
about anyone stealing it...

because he's the one helping Cahill.

Best traitors are the ones
you least suspect.

Call me a traitor again, love,
and I'll end you.

And I'll take my sweet time doing it.

You don't want to be called a traitor?
Stop acting like one!

The files are in a command post
on the other side of the island.

Come on.

Come see how safe they are for yourselves.

Oh, looks like he's bringing
40 of his buddies along for the ride.

- I do not like our odds.
- Then let's even 'em out.

Thought exercise. While you guys
are gearing up for an island hayride...

who's patrolling the bush for intruders?

- Let's go!
- We need 15 men in the jungle, 10 more at the north cove.

You ever hear of a beach infiltration?
Yeah, I didn't think so.

- Come on!
- Don Juan, you and Romeo grab some men and sit on Cahill.

Anybody comes to rescue him,
take 'em out.

I mean right now. Go!

Stay where you are.

I don't care who you are.
This is my island.

Nobody gives my men orders but me.

Your island is a security disaster.

Unless you want the boss to hear all
about it, I suggest you lock it down.

You heard what they said. Move!

Go.

- Well, that's still five guys with machine guns.
- Better than 40.

You know, Fi,
there's still time to call this off.

There's no turning back now.
We have to get Armand that truck.

Like it or not, Sam,
this heist is happening.

The quickest way
to turn a security force's attention...

away from an outside attack...

is to make them think there's an even
bigger threat inside their facility.

If you know which employees
will be out of town...

you can send a care package filled with
metallic sodium to an empty office.

That gizmo Maddy placed in the
bathroom should have gone off by now.

- Maybe something's wrong.
- Your clock is fast.

Nothing's wrong. I built that gizmo.

Then all you have to do...

is set off the company's
sprinkler system with a smoke bomb.

If you do it right,
the sodium will react to the water...

and you've got the distraction you need.

That's our cue.

Get 'em down here!

- Hold it. Whoa, whoa.
- Easy, big fella. Toss the gun.

- Okay.
- Thank you very kindly. Now, you stay put...

and we'll be out of your hair
before you can say "Life's too short."

- How's it going, Fi?
- This wiring belongs in a museum.

So I'm thinking of changing
my deal with Mike.

Can this wait a second?
I'm kind of in the middle of something.

You were saying?

If we're risking our necks while Mike
is working on his tan in the tropics...

he's gonna buy me
two months' worth of mojitos.

We got a breach!

As a general rule,
spies prefer to steal information quietly.

It's a lot easier to pay off an informant,
hack a computer or crack a safe...

than it is to grab something
from someone who's armed and angry.

But like any job,
some days are just harder than others.

Oi! What do you think you're doing here?

This is my island and my command.

Take it up with Commander Jackson.
He brought us here himself.

What the hell is going on?

- Looks like Jackson sent his own team to protect the files.
- This is bad.

What did you do with the files?

Jackson took 'em... back to Grand Cayman.

Rubbish. He would have told me
he was coming to the island.

Really? How? Phones are
down, radios silent.

We assumed the worst.

So what am I supposed to do
with the security team from Pyramid?

What did he say about the team he cleared
to come to the island?

Nothin'.

He told us to stay here and
wait for orders. That's it.

So, Mr. Internal Security...

if you're here with Jackson's blessing...

why is it he left me
a team of his own commandos...

and failed to mention
your bloody existence?

I told you to keep that out of my face.

I warned you.

I give the orders here.

Get used to the pain, mate.

There's plenty more where that came from.

I don't know who you people are...

but I'm beginning to think
you've been lying this whole time.

Well, the party's over. You, bigmouth.

You're gonna tell me what's going on. Now.

When you're being
interrogated in the field...

it's not about holding out.

Field interrogations tend to be quick and dirty
and often end with a bullet to the head.

The key to surviving is a good offense.

Something funny about this, mate?

When you take a swing to save your life,
you swing for the fences.

Oh, it's brilliant.

He was the only one who
knew we were coming.

He made sure we couldn't call out.

- How could I have missed it?
- Missed what, pray tell?

Does he need to spell it out for you?
Your boss is behind this.

Jackson?

- That's crazy.
- Is it?

Our company picks up chatter someone's
trying to sell the list we already paid for.

We contact Jackson
to demand a security test.

He knows he's busted.
He needs to think of a fall guy quick.

And that'd be you, if you're keeping up.

Jackson expected you to kill us.

He gave you orders to shoot intruders
on sight, didn't he?

Bollocks. Jackson knows
trying mischief against me...

would be signing his own death warrant.

My guess... after you execute us...

his commandos are gonna shoot you
in a botched attempt to save us.

Earth to Vanderwaal. Why isn't Jackson
still here? Think about it, man.

The files disappear,
he lays the whole mess at your feet.

And you won't be able to call him a liar
because you'll have a bullet in your head.

If you're so sure, shoot us.

If the commandos don't kill you,
good luck with the people we work for.

Detain Jackson's men
until you hear from me.

That's an order.

You really think you can sell this?

I don't have much choice.

My new friend and I
are gonna take a boat to Grand Cayman...

have a little chat with Commander Jackson.

You made the right move, soldier.

Yeah, we'll see about that, won't we?

Yes, we will. And let's just say...

the Pyramid Group knows how to reward
people who can handle themselves.

So much for dropping in unnoticed.

- Jackson's beefed up his security.
- Can you blame him?

- He just stole 10 million dollars' worth of our files.
- Bastard.

If we're gonna get those files,
Jackson can't know that we're onto him.

Yeah, well, that'll be tough
when I announce...

I've got the head
of Pyramid Security with me.

If you do that, we'll get shot
before we make it to the gate.

Just stay calm and say I'm the guy
you want to fix the satellite uplink.

And if they ask for identification?

You got 50 men under your command.
You can't handle two security guards?

For a spy, getting someone
to lie for you serves a number of purposes.

It's less about the lie itself,
no matter how useful it is.

It's about how it changes
your relationship with your target.

- We need to see Jackson.
- And who's this?

Once a guy lies for you,
for better or for worse...

your fates are tied together.

He's a tech specialist. He's okay.

We still need to see some identif...

What part of "okay" don't you copy?

I've used him before.

Step aside.

Vanderwaal, where have you been?

And what the hell happened out there?

Funny, I've been wanting to
ask you the same question, Commander.

And what's that supposed to mean?

You stole the files from the island.
Where are they?

These files?

I didn't steal them. I secured them.

And you didn't answer my question.

Shut it!

You thieving wanker.

We know you sent Cahill
to torch the uplink...

so that you could sneak onto the island
and steal our information.

Your information?

The guard said you were
a satellite technician.

He's from the Pyramid Group.
F.Y. I., your security sucks.

He's not from the Pyramid Group, you moron.

How do you know
he didn't destroy the uplink?

Save your breath, mate.
Cahill already admitted it was...

How do you know Cahill's not in his pocket?

This guy's playing you.

Take your gun off me and shoot him!

Like good defense attorneys...

spies know the facts don't always matter
as much as how you sell them.

Only when lawyers lose a case,
they get an appeal.

When spies lose a case,
they get a shallow grave.

Bravo.

That was compelling and rich.

One of two things is possible.

Either Jackson ripped you off
and we caught him red-handed...

Or?

You let a mysterious super-genius...

take over your island,
turn your op inside out...

and detain your commander's men.

Which is more likely?

One of two things will happen now.

Version one:

You will take over for
Commander Sticky Fingers here...

and my boss will shower you with cash.

Version two:

You will eat a bullet right after I do!

I've had enough of this!

Stand down!

- Stand down!
- Drop 'em! On the ground! Now!

Jackson's been relieved of his command.

I'm in charge now.

Anybody got a problem with that?

Good.

Now, somebody get me a whiskey.

- How was the ride over?
- Oh, it was a pleasure cruise.

Turns out Mr. Cahill
gets really, really seasick.

No, no, no, no, no. No. No.

We're taking him back to Pyramid H.Q.
For further questioning.

Excellent work securing the files,
Mr. Vanderwaal.

We're postponing the South American portion
of the operation...

until we sort things out, but you...

you'll be well taken care of.

Forgive me for not taking your word for it.
The files stay with me.

Vanderwaal, what are you doing?

I just put a bullet in my boss, sweetheart.

I hand this over when your boss hands me
a signed contract putting me in command.

I want something I can feel.

Something I can touch, understand?

You're a man who knows what he wants.
Trust me.

You will get more
than you can possibly imagine.

I'm tired of your chat, mate.

You're gonna make a call
to the Pyramid Group right now...

and arrange a sit-down for me
with your boss.

If for any reason that's a problem,
then we're gonna have a problem.

There's no problem here.

Do you think that you could arrange a flight
to take all of us back to headquarters?

It would be my pleasure.

Sorry. No guns on the chopper.

We'll bring our guns if
we damn well please.

Unless you want to take 'em, of course.

Disarming people
by force is bloody and unpleasant.

- It's company policy, Vanderwaal.
- Then make an exception.

Sometimes it's easier
to put on a smile and just ask.

It's a corporate chopper.
It's overweight as it is.

Come on. It's time to celebrate.
Pop the champagne, Commander!

Come on. Let's go.

Okay.

Gentlemen, we'll take those.

No one mentioned you boys
from the Pyramid Group were wired so tight.

That's 'cause they're C.I.A.
We all are, actually.

Son of a bitch.

How's that for something you can feel,
Mr. Vanderwaal?

Get these to the top brass at the N.S.A.

Shouldn't be hard for them
to find their leak.

Anybody ever tell you your brand
of espionage is hell on the nerves?

All the time.

Lovely evening for an arms deal.

- I want my information first.
- You know I always deliver.

We're alike that way.

- What's that supposed to mean?
- Tell me something.

Are you happy?

Was it worth it?

Coming here to live with an absentee
boyfriend in his drab, little flat?

You were meant for
much, much greater things.

Like what? Working with you?

No, thanks.

Let's get this over with, shall we?

Of course.

You should know your boyfriend
has some nasty enemies.

And if anything should happen, remember,
you and I have a lot in common.

I'm just a phone call away.

A lot in common?

No.

I don't trade favors for blood.

Why do you say that?

Because you spared the guards?

You should know something.

That truck was supposed to be
delivered to a rival of mine.

Regrettably, he presold the ammunition
to a Mexican cartel.

Now he's in some hot water.

When I say "hot water,"
I mean the poor guy's been dismembered.

So maybe we're not so different after all.

You bastard.

Oh, we know what kind of man I am.

What I'd really like to know is...

what kind of man sends you for my help?

It was good seeing you again.

I've missed you, Fiona.

Sorry I'm late.

Pearce and I had a...
debrief at the Agency.

It's fine. How was your mission?

It was, uh, rough.
I mean, it worked out, but, uh...

You can't talk about it. Whatever.

The lead on your bomber.

How'd the job go?

Does it matter? You got what you needed.

Fi, what's going on?

Did something happen with Armand?

Oh.

Now you're full of questions.

A lot happened with Armand... years ago,
back in Ireland in the bad old days.

- Were you and he, uh...
- Yes, we were, Michael.

Until I found out
that he had paid to meet me...

by doing a favor for some of my associates.

He killed a British customs agent,
if you're curious.

Quite a romantic gesture, don't you think?

I didn't know that, Fiona.

No. You didn't.

Ignorance is bliss.

Oh, there they are. Hi!

- Benny, may I introduce my son Michael?
- Michael.

- And his very special lady, Fiona.
- My pleasure.

- Here. Let me get that for you.
- Oh, thank you.

Dinner is my treat.

Benny actually sat through an entire
stretching class with me today, so I owe him.

It was a blast...

in a " I hope we never
have to do it again" kind of way.

I knew it. You are so bad!

Michael, your mom has told me
so much about you.

Well, I took the liberty
of ordering some wine.

- May I?
- Please.

How about a toast from the young lovebirds?

- What do you say?
- Yes. Michael, a toast.

To supportive partners.

Oh. Supportive partners.

Supportive partners.

Mmm.