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(Continuing from last week's episode. Badenweiler. Dixon stands, Sydney kneels in the bushes, staring at the building that just exploded, horrified.)
DIXON: Sydney, we've got to run! Sydney, we've got to move! Sydney, we've got to move, now! What's the matter, are you hurt?
(Three guards run to them, speaking in German.)
DIXON: Let's go! RUN!
(Dixon and Sydney take off, and the chase is on. They run through the trees, the three guards behind them.)
DIXON: Go, go, go, go! GO!
(The guards begin shooting. Sydney's running, tears streaming down her cheeks.)
DIXON: Don't stop!
(More gunfire. Dixon stops running and hides behind a tree. Sydney keeps running and jumps behind a fallen tree, laying on the ground. Wracked with tears and guilt, she stays there, hiding. One of the guards with a flashlight in hand comes closer. Suddenly, Dixon takes him and kicks him. Punches him. In the background, Dixon and the guard grunt and punch, Sydney sits there in almost a catatonic state, crying. Dixon punches the guard one last time, and he falls.)
DIXON: Come on, Sydney. We've got to go.
(In the self-storage facility, Vaughn and Sydney meet.)
SYDNEY: I couldn't move. Dixon had to drag me to my feet, just to get to the van. When he asked me what was wrong, why I had just frozen... I made up something about having a flashback to Danny.
VAUGHN: You did everything you could.
SYDNEY: I was supposed to stop the detonation. I didn't. And because of that, four C.I.A. agents were killed.
VAUGHN: You had no way of knowing Dixon had a second trigger. There was nothing you could do.
SYDNEY: I could've told him the truth. Dixon needs to know who he's really working for.
SYDNEY: I know, I can't pu his family at risk.
VAUGHN: Or yourself.
SYDNEY: I know all of that, but it's the right thing to do. Those men died for no reason.
VAUGHN: No. Those men died for their country.
(Sydney looks away, turning her back to him.)
SYDNEY: Sydney, I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to go through that.
(At Sydney's house, she sits in front of the coffee table, going through pictures. Candles are lit. She gingerly picks a framed picture up. It's of her mother. She smiles sadly. The door opens, and Francie enters.)
SYDNEY: You worked late.
FRANCIE: Bar association dinner. One of the lawyers wnated to sue me because his chicken was undercooked. Can you believe that -- an obnoxious lawyer?
SYDNEY: What about your obnoxious lawyer? Have you talked to him?
FRANCIE: I'm meeting Charlie for lunch this week.
SYDNEY: That's good.
FRANCIE: Syd, he's going to break up with me.
SYDNEY: Did he say that? He didn't say that.
FRANCIE: He didn't have to. He was sneaking around on me. He was with that girl, Rachel. And there's stuff he's doing that he can't tell me about? Please.
SYDNEY: I don't think he'd be meeting with you just to break up with you. Guys don't do that. If they want to end things, they just vanish. Right?
(Francie spots the picture of Mrs. Bristow that Sydney was looking at.)
FRANCIE: Your mom was so pretty.
SYDNEY: Yeah, she was. Thanks.
FRANCIE: I got to go change. I feel a binge coming on.
(Sydney smiles at her.)
FRANCIE: Hey, how was your trip?
SYDNEY: Oh. Not good. I was working with these people who... they were terminated.
FRANCIE: Oh, man. The economy sucks.
(Later, in bed, Sydney reads. The phone rings beside her; she answers.)
HELEN: This is Helen Calder, you left me a message? Something about my husband having worked with your father?
(The next day, Sydney is meeting with Mrs. Calder at her house. They drink tea.)
SYDNEY: I know that your husband worked with the F.B.I. and that his job was to investigate C.I.A. agents that were suspected of spying for Russia. My dad was one of the agents that your husband investigated. I know that much. Did he ever mention the name Jack Bristow?
HELEN: I'm sorry. Bentley didn't talk much about his work.
(Sydney looks up and sees a picture on the mantle of a smiling man.)
SYDNEY: He looks kind.
HELEN: Oh, he is.
SYDNEY: I thought Bentley was dead?
HELEN: Oh, oh, dear, no. That isn't Bentley. That's my boyfriend, Gary.
(Sydney smiles sheepishly. Mrs. Calder gets up and moves to the drawer of a cabinet, gets out a framed picture. She shows Sydney.)
HELEN: This is Bentley. He wasn't so nice.
(Sydney looks shocked as she holds the picture.)
SYDNEY: When did Bentley pass away?
HELEN: 1981, in a car accident.
(The breath catches in Sydney's throat.)
SYDNEY: Do you have a copy of this?
HELEN: I think so.
(At Sydney's house, she enters and runs to her bedroom. She finds a hat box on one of her shelves, and puts it on her bed. Frantically, she rips off the lid and starts flying through the gathered pictures and little pieces of paper. Finally, she finds purchase -- a newspaper clipping. The headline reads "Two Die In Icy Collision." There's a picture of Bentley, and a picture of Sydney's mother. Not believing it, and needing confirmation without a doubt in her mind, Sydney grabs her purse and takes the picture of Bentley Calder that she got from Helen. She holds the picture from Helen up to the newspaper. It's the same man. Bentley Calder, the agent that was investigating her father, died in the same car accident as her mother.)
SYDNEY: For the last twenty yers, I thought I knew how my mom died. She and my dad had been out at the movies, tehyw ere coming home late and a man -- some postal worker -- was driving, coming from the other direction. The police said alcohol wasn't a factor. This man must've lalen asleep. His car drifted over the white line. My dad swerved, and they went of the Canyon Creek bridge. I always told myself that my mom didn't have time to know what was happening. Now I know that Calder was hunting down a KGB agent -- myf ather. So what happened that night was no accident. Calder was probably chasing them, they probably lost control and the cars crashed. Whatever it was, it brings me back to the same conclusion. If my father hadn't been a double agent, my mom would still be alive today. I'm sorry to lay all this on you, it's just that I have no one to talk to about this.
VAUGHN: It's okay.
SYDNEY: I want to report him.
SYDNEY: I want to turn him in.
VAUGHN: For what? For being under suspicion twenty years ago? The Agency knows that.
SYDNEY: What about the file -- the one you pulled for me? There were pages missing. Maybe it didn't end twenty years ago, maybe he's still working for Russia!
VAUGHN: Stop. Okay? Stop. What matters, what is important, is taking down SD-6. Jack -- your father -- is helping us do that!
SYDNEY: So, you're suggesting, once again, that I do nothing?
VAUGHN: Not about this! We have too much work to do, and your relationship with him--
SYDNEY: I wasn't supposed to do anything about Dixon, either. Let me ask you this -- is anything EVER unacceptable to you?!
VAUGHN: I understand that we're talking about your dad here, and that if he did sell secrets, or is selling secrets, that would be hard.
SYDNEY: I would hope that would be hard on you, too!
VAUGHN: Before you do anything, let me find out if he's under suspicion, if he's being tracked. Just give me two days, all right?
(University campus. Francie and Charlie sit on a bench together.)
FRANCIE: I get it. You wanted to do it in person, but instead of coming right out with it, you're making all kinds of small talk. Which I think is really pathetic.
FRANCIE: I've always supported you, no matter what. And the ide athat you would sneak around behind my back and lie to me about it, is just the worst part. I can't--
FRANCIE: After all that we have been through.
CHARLIE: I want to be a singer.
FRANCIE: A singer.
CHARLIE: I wasn't going to say anything until I had everything set up. That woman -- Rachel -- she plays piano. When you saw us that night, we were rehearsing. We have our first gig this Friday night.
(He gives her tickets.)
FRANCIE: A singer?
CHARLIE: Sweetheart, I'm sorry I wasn't up-front about this before, but being a lawyer, it's been my goal -- my family's goal -- forever, and the thought of me doing something else... I've been wanting to do something else. Fran, I've been to afraid to admit that.
FRANCIE: You're not breaking up with me?
CHARLIE: Are you kidding? You're my baby.
(Will's newspaper office. He walks down the hall, talking on his cell.)
WILL: Charlie singing? I wouldn't miss it.
(He pats someone on the back with a newspaper.)
GUY: Hey, Will.
WILL: (keeps walking) Yeah, yeah, yeah. I will be there. Yes. Yes. Best behavior, I got it.
(He's at his desk, and sees Jenny sitting in his chair behind it. He hangs up.)
WILL: Get off my chair.
JENNY: How's Sydney? That was Sydney, right?
WILL: Okay, you got to stop doing that. Anybody call when I was out?
JENNY: Yep. A guy from the DMV. He ran the license plate you copied off of Kate Jones' car.
WILL: The woman pretending to be Kate Jones. According to her social security number, the real Kate Jones died in 1973.
(He dials the phone.)
WILL: Hello, Hank? Hello, it's Will. Hey, you come up with anything? Did that match the license plate number for 663, Sam, Tango, Frank? Oh, you're the best. Bye. (hangs up) Okay...
(He writes on a pad of paper. Jenny reads over his shoulder.)
JENNY: "Eloise Kurtz."
WILL: Eloise Kurtz is living proof that someone's covering up Danny's murder. And she was definitely lying about having an affair with him. 223 Whitley Place, Hollywood.
(Credit Dauphine. Sydney walks in the white room, it illuminates red. Inside, she walks in between the phone banks. Sloane approaches.)
SLOANE: Good work in Germany, Sydney. The inhaler prototype's safely in Analysis. The Badenweiler factory was demolished without any casualties.
SYDNEY: Thanks. Dixon deserves the credit. Not me.
(They walk into a meeting room. Jack, Marshall, Dixon, Sloane, Sydney.)
SLOANE: Jack will no longer be working out of Jennings Aerospace. His assignment there is complete. As of today, he will be working here with a cover as portfolio manager for Credit Dauphine. This way, he can more actively participate in the planning and execution of missions.
(Everyone expects a reaction from Sydney.)
SYDNEY: (forced smile) Good.
MR. BRISTOW: Two months ago, FTL vacated their forward base at Roubaix and their support station at Chaniers. All the heavy equipment was moved, including the T-47s. At the time, recovery team found this at Robaix.
(He passes a greeting card over to Sydney. The front has a big yellow smiley face. She opens it. A MIDI-type jingle plays and inside the card says "Happy Birthday!".)
MR. BRISTOW: Last week, we learned that FTL also abandoned their transfer facility at Kenilwork. Our recovery team did a sweep, they returned with this.
(He passes another card down. It's the same as the one before. Dixon opens one, hears the jingle, and immediately closes it.)
DIXON: Is the ink encoded?
(Marshall's eating something, quite loudly.)
MARSHALL: Oh, that was my first thought as well. (beat) You want some fritter? It's apple.
(He holds out the fritter to Dixon.)
SLOANE: Analysis studied the music sample. They foudn an identical pattern of numbers buried in the higher frequencies. It's not noise. It is where they hide the code.
SYDNEY: Have we deciphered it?
(He clicks a remote, a picture of a large ship pops up.)
SLOANE: "Barrage" -- it's a converted salvage tug. FTL uses it as a floating lab. Weapon design, data storage, crypto. An SD-6 commando team stormed the ship last night as it was passing through the Panama Canal. They brought back this.
(He clicks a button, something else comes up. Drawings.)
SYDNEY: What is it?
MR. BRISTOW: FTL's latest code machine. Without this device, we're unable to read any of their communications.
DIXON: How does it work?
MARSHALL: Very well. Heh. Uh, we don't--we don't know yet.
SLOANE: The team gathered what they could. Unfortunately, there was a self-destruct on the ship. Needless to say, they left fairly quickly.
MR. BRISTOW: From what they gathered, only eight of these decoders have been produced. One of them is currently in the possession of this man.
(A picture of the man in question pops up.)
SLOANE: John Smythe... owner of the Hobbes End photo gallery in London. He's also an FTL operative. One of the code machines is being held in the gallery, awaiting pickup next Tuesday. You leave for London tonight.
MR. BRISTOW: We want to find out where FTL relocated, and what they're up to. Your job is to bring back the encoding machine.
(Sydney is leaving. The door to the white room opens. Mr. Bristow is following her.)
MR. BRISTOW: I would have told you about the realignment, but you were in Badenweiler. (lower voice) I heard about what happened. It's tragic.
SYDNEY: I know about you! That you were hunted by the F.B.I.! And I know that mom died because they went after you.
MR. BRISTOW: Sydney...
SYDNEY: Every time I think I know just how awful you are, I learn something worse.
(She gets inside the elevator.)
SYDNEY: But this time, I'm going to make sure you pay.
(The doors close.)
(Golf driving range. Vaughn walks up, holding a container of balls. He walks up beside Sydney, puts a small box down. She tkes it, opens it. It's a child's plastic bug that little kids use to frighten people.)
SYDNEY: What's this?
VAUGHN: A bug.
SYDNEY: What are you, twelve-years-old?
VAUGHN: No, a bug. We didn't know about Smythe.
SYDNEY: After we get the code machine, they'll scan for listening devices.
VAUGHN: Technology on this thing is totally passive. The guys at Langley actually cribbed the design from a Russian device they pulled from the American embassy. The thing only works when we hit it with a microwave beam off an orbital satellite. Then it acts as a microphone. It's completely undetectable.
SYDNEY: And if they find it, they'll just think it's a bug.
SYDNEY: What about the code machine?
VAUGHN: Chances are, we won't have time to pull a switch, so deliver it to SD-6. When they break the code, they'll inform their affiliate offices through the computer network. Thanks to you, we're still downloading from their mainframe.
SYDNEY: How much have you gotten so far?
VAUGHN: Almost two per cent.
SYDNEY: In all this time, that's all you got?
VAUGHN: If we take too much, too quickly, they'll notice the leak. But we're patient. We can get all their internal files and then we can do some real damage.
VAUGHN: Oh, I checked around about your dad. He's clena. No internal investigations that--
SYDNEY: I told him.
VAUGHN: Told him what?
SYDNEY: That I know everything -- about Calder, his spying for the KGB, the accident.
VAUGHN: Damn it! I told you not to say anything.
SYDNEY: I'm sorry, but I don't care. If you'd been in my position, you probably wouldn't have been able to control yourself, either.
VAUGHN: You're just going to have to learn how to do that.
SYDNEY: Don't lecture me about my father. Because of the spy trade, my mother is dead. You couldn't possibly understand what it's like to have a parent die that way.
(Vaughn's silent. He looks down.)
VAUGHN: There's a book back at Langley. They keep it locked up under glass, and behind it is a marble wall with stars carved in it. It's a memorial to the agents the company lost in action. Families are never told how they died, or even where. Only that they won't be coming home. I was eight when my father became one of those stars. At the funeral, there's a protocol the Agency representative has to follow. What to say, whose hands to shake. You're admonished -- that is actually the word they used, "admonished" -- not to be conspiculously emotional.
SYDNEY: Vaughn, I'm so sorry...
VAUGHN: The agents that died in Badenweiler. I've been asked to represent the Agency at their funearls.
(He casually, distractedly, hits one of the golf balls.)
(In an apartment building, Will wlaks donw the hallway. He finds apartment 2 and knocks.)
WILL: Delivery. Got a package for Eloise Kurtz.
(She opens the door.)
WILL: I just need five minutes.
KATE/ELOISE: How did you know my name?
WILL: I won't use it, if that's what you're afraid of.
KATE/ELOISE: Just leave me alone! I don't know anything!
WILL: See, it's people woh say that that always know much more than they think they do. Do you know how they kiled him? Danny Hecht? They broke into his apartment, and they shot him in his bathtub!
KATE/ELOISE: I don't know anything!
WILL: It was three bullets. It was two here (gestures) and one straight through the heart.
(Eloise/Kate Jones moves into her apartment and gets her purse.)
KATE/ELOISE: I'm warning you!
WILL: Come on, I just want five minutes.
KATE/ELOISE: Okay, I have pepper spray!
(She sprays it in his eyes. Will falls back in the hallway, clutching his face.)
WILL: OWWW! Oh, God, my eyes!
KATE/ELOISE: I told you! Okay, I warned you! Now, just go away!
WILL: My eyes... okay!
(She slams the door.)
(London. Inside the art gallery, dance music plays. Sydney and Dixon are there, in disguise.)
SYDNEY: You ready?
SYDNEY: It should take me about twenty seconds to get down the hall.
(Sydney makes her way over to the exit where a guard stands. She eats something off of a tray a waiter holds. Dixon, looking at the pieces, takes out a cigar and lights up. People stare, once they smell the smoke. A man gestures to the guard. The guard goes to Dixon. While he's away, Sydney slips past the railing and goes down the hall.)
OFFICIAL: Excuse me, sir. Hello. Actually, this is a non-smoking gallery.
DIXON: (French accent) Not anymore.
OFFICIAL: Well, I'm afraid if you don't put that thing out, we're going to have to escort yu out the door.
DIXON: What kind of a deal you think I can get if I take the entire collection?
OFFICIAL: I'll go call the owner.
(Down the hall, Sydney walks down the hall. Around the corner is the office. Smythe is inside. The phone rings.)
SMYTHE: Yeah? I'll be right there.
(He hangs up. On his way out, he hits the numbers for the alarm to set. The motion sensor arms. He leaves. He walks past Sydney who was hiding around the corner in the otherwise deserted hallway. She throws her purse and it stops the door from closing, wedging itself between the door and the wall. She enters the office, picking up her purse. She sees the motion senor arming. She takes a hat off of the desk and throws it on top of the motion sensor alarm, enabling her to move without setting it off. She looks around, and puts on her green sunglasses that match her lime green dress. She sees where the vault is hidden behind the wall with the x-ray glasses and takes off her watch.)
(Smythe, Official, and Dixon walk around.)
SMYTHE: Chester Conlon is an award winning artist.
DIXON: It is almost Keeferesque.
SMYTHE: I said the same thing.
(A man coughs from the cigar smoke.)
DIXON: This bothering you, by the way?
SMYTHE: Not at all.
(Sydney has her watch strapped onto the vault's door. As she moves the dial, the watch will beep twice whenever she comes to the right digit. It beeps, she turns the dial for the other number. It beeps. She opens the vault and finds the code machine, puts it in her green purse. She closes the vault door and tkes her watch, puts it back on. She finds the plastic bug that was hidden in between her breasts and sticks it under the counter in the office. Just then, the hat falls off of the motion sensor and she moves -- the alarm goes off.)
(Inside the gallery...)
DIXON: I'm tempted, but I don't know.
SMYTHE: Sir, I've already offered to come down ten per cent.
DIXON: Ten per cent is not twenty per cent.
(Dixon spots the guard over Smythe's shoulder getting notified of the alarm going off.)
(Sydney is walking down the hall, out of the office. She hears someone coming closer. She panicks, and goes back to the office. She tries opening the door but the door is locked. She has nowhere to go. The guard comes around the corner... Sydney isn't there. She's in the open ceiling, straddling a pipe above the guard's head. He looks around, goes to the office door to open it. Suddenly, steam starts blowing through the pipes. Sydney's mouth is gaping open -- she touches the pipe, and a sign that says "Extreme Heat -- Danger of Scalding" is shown. She holds herself up above the pipe, wincing in pain as the pipe she's laying her body on top of, gets hotter. The guard drops the keys, tries again. He goes inside. Sydney winces, trying not to yell out in pain. Metal clanks. The man hears it, and goes to see what that was. He moves down the hallway. Sydney climbs over to the other pipes parallel to her, swings over the one smaller pipe that is not scalding hot with her green purse in her mouth. She moves like a gymnast. The guard comes back, goes inside the office. She hangs down off the pipe, and runs.)
(Inside the gallery.)
SMYTHE: I'll eat the tax, but that is it.
(Sydney walks over to them.)
SYDNEY: (French accent) Cherie, I think I prefer the Lamborghini.
DIXON: You are the birthday girl. (turning to Smythe) Could you do something with this?
(He gives the cigar to Smythe; Dixon and Sydney walk out together.)
(Los Angeles. Sydney sits on her bed, dressed for work. Francie stands in front of the full length mirror, trying on a top that would go over her tank.)
FRANCIE: He doesn't sing in the car. He doesn't sing in the shower. He doesn't even sing at the national anthem at baseball games. I mean, he doesn't even hum.
SYDNEY: (re: the top) To, like, "I'm with the band." Kind of.
FRANCIE: If he had a good voice, he would have used it somewhere once. I would have heard it. You're going to be there, right? I mean, I need you there.
SYDNEY: Of course I'm going to be there.
FRANCIE: When he's not -- if he's not good -- he's going to be so devastated. You know that.
SYDNEY: Or it could be the start of something great.
(She gets up, walking out.)
SYDNEY: Raid my closet!
FRANCIE: Thanks, but, I got boobs.
(At the club, Francie, Sydney, Will and Amy sit. Charlie and Rachel stand in front of them.)
RACHEL: Hi, I'm Rachel.
RACHEL: Charlie has told me so much about you.
RACHEL: Going for your MBA, best cook ever. You're like this mythic person.
FRANCIE: Okay, I like her!
CHARLIE: This is Will.
WILL: You know anything about me?
CHARLIE: And Sydney.
WILL: (gestures) This is my sister, Amy.
(Will's cell phone rings.)
WILL: Will Tippin.
VOICE: It's Eloise Kurtz.
WILL: Sorry, I can't hear you. Hold on.
(He moves away so the others won't hear, namely Sydney.)
SYDNEY: This is so exciting!
CHARLIE: A little terrifying.
RACHEL: We've got to get ready.
FRANCIE: You guys are going to be great.
(They walk away. Francie turns to Sydney.)
FRANCIE: This is going to be a disaster.
SYDNEY: Stop it!
(At another corner of the bar, Will talks in his cell phone.)
KATE/ELOISE: Are you all right?
WILL: You mean can I see again?
KATE/ELOISE: I feel horrible.
WILL: No, it's okay. I was wearing my glasses.
KATE/ELOISE: I'm really not a bad person.
WILL: No, I never said you were a bad person. You just got to tell me. Help me out here, please.
KATE/ELOISE: They gave me two thousand dollars cash to say that I was having an affair with Danny Hecht.
WILL: Well, who did? Who gave you the money?
KATE/ELOISE: I was in between jobs, my car was broken. It's still broken. Anybody in my position would have done the same thing.
WILL: Can I buy you a cup of coffee, huh? Meet you in person?
KATE/ELOISE: Why don't you come by my apartment tomorrow afternoon?
WILL: Yeah, yeah, yeah. How about three o'clock? I have a great car mechanic, if you need one, too.
(In her apartment, Eloise stares straight ahead, listening to all the commotion at the bar, depressed and afraid that maybe her life is in danger. That she might not ever hear all that again.)
WILL: Hello? Hello?
KATE/ELOISE: Yeah, I'm here...
WILL: Listen, everything's going to be okay.
(She hangs up. Applause. Charlie takes the stage. Will moves over to the bar with Sydney, Francie and Amy.)
WILL: (to Sydney) It was a fact-checker. How's Francie?
SYDNEY: A wreck.
(The microphone whines with feedback. Charlie stands in the back, looking really nervous. Everyone is quiet. Francie looks scared for him. Charlie doesn't move.)
SYDNEY: WHOO-HOO! CHARLIE! WHOO-HOO!
(Sydney shouts this while pumping her fist in the air. Everyone laughs, including Sydney. Charlie smiles, the nervous tension effectively broken. He moves to the microphone. Rachel starts playing on the keyboard. Francie closes her eyes, maybe the song has special meaning?)
CHARLIE: (singing) When the road gets dark, and you can no longer see. Just let my love throw a spark. And have a little faith in me.
(Francie looks blown away at his talent.)
CHARLIE: (singing) When the tears you cry are all you can believe. Just give these loving arms a try, and have a little faith in me. Have a little faith in me. Have a little faith in me...
(Francie is beaming with pride.)
FRANCIE: That's my boyfriend.
CHARLIE: (singing) Have a little faith in me. Have a little faith in me.
(Perhaps the next day or Monday, Sydney walks into SD-6, slow motion.)
CHARLIE: (voice over, singing) When your secret heart cannot speak so easily... come here, darlin', from a whisper start. To have a little faith in me. Have a little faith in me.
(She puts her things down at her desk. Starts to take off her coat. Dixon comes up behind her and takes it off of her. She brightly smiles at him.)
CHARLIE: (voice over, singing) Have a little faith in me, have a little faith in me. Have a little faith in me...
(In a meeting with Sydney, Marshall, Sloane, Dixon and Mr. Bristow. Sydney puts her thumb on the coding machine she stole from the gallery. It makes a noise.)
SYDNEY: It tickles. What just happened?
MARSHALL: It took a piece of your thumb. A speck. A cell. And this is, like, true genius. It created a code based on your DNA.
SLOANE: That's how the code from those greeting cards worked. The encoding was DNA based.
MR. BRISTOW: We know he was the recepient of one of the cards. (A picture comes up.) Gareth Parkishoff, leader of the FTL cell in Rabat.
SLOANE: That's the good news. We know it's Parkishoff.
(Marshall types on his laptop, quickly and loudly.)
SLOANE: The bad news is Parkishoff is dead. We need a sample of his DNA, and we don't know where he's buried. Marshall. Marshall.
MARSHALL: (perplexed) The system's... a little sluggish.
SLOANE: Marshall, get Fisher.
(Marshall takes his laptop and runs out.)
SLOANE: Last month we received intel that Parkishoff was assassinated by Martin Shephard.
(A picture of Shephard comes up.)
MR. BRISTOW: Shephard's an interesting case. His subconscious is programmed to react to a simple phrase. Say it to him, and he'd do what you'd asked. Even kill. Say it again, and those acts would be erased from his conscious mind. He'd have no recollection of the acts he'd committed.
SLOANE: Now, we have known for some time what that phrase is.
(Sloane places a folder in front of Sydney.)
SYDNEY: Oh, it's by John Donne.
SLOANE: Right. And we want you to get close enough to Shephard, recite the poem, and get him to tell you where Parkishoff is buried.
SYDNEY: Where is he?
SLOANE: Shephard checked himself in a mental institution in Bucharest, southern Romania.
(Marshall and Fisher enter. Marshall goes to Sloane.)
MARSHALL: Umm, if you don't mind, there's something kind of weird going on with the computer network.
MARSHALL: There's kind of a bandwith leak...
SLOANE: Why don't you get me a report by the end of the day?
SLOANE: Agent Fisher will be your support on this one. His alias is Dr. Carlos Fontanetta.
SYDNEY: Hello. Nice to meet you.
FISHER: Nice to meet you.
SLOANE: The Mangalov clinic is expecting Dr. Fontanetta to check a patient in the day after tomorrow. You are that patient.
(Sydney walks down a street outside Credit Dauphine. Mr. Bristow jogs up to her.)
MR. BRISTOW: Your handler's unavailable. Once you locate Parkishoff, he wants you to relay the coordinates--
SYDNEY: Vaughns' at a funeral. Four heroes who died because of people like you.
MR. BRISTOW: You are to relay the correct coordinates to SD-6. Once they have decoded the message, you are to inform--
SYDNEY: Go to hell!
MR. BRISTOW: (grabs her arm) People's lives are at stake! Your life!
(Sydney tries walking away.)
MR. BRISTOW: What you think you know, you don't know.
SYDNEY: Then explain it to me!
MR. BRISTOW: You don't have clearance.
SYDNEY: (furious) Clearance?
MR. BRISTOW: Yes.
SYDNEY: To be told how my mother died.
MR. BRISTOW: There are rules, Sydney.
SYDNEY: Then you break them!
MR. BRISTOW: Just think about what you're saying. Acting cavalier about breaking the rules. Think about the last time you did something like that. I'm not a perfect man, I know that. But I am smart enough not to draw simple conclusions and then act upon them. I would think if anyone had learned that lesson, it would have been you.
(He walks away. Sydney looks like she's fighting back the urge to hit him.)
(Romania. Maganlov clinic. It's dirty. The walls are covered in splatters on old, dingy paint. Sydney is being wheeled in a wheelchair down the hall by an orderly. A doctor -- Krushnik -- and Fisher walk with them.)
FISHER: Miss Dicamila is bipolar. We were doing some, uh, relief work up in the north when she suffered a psychotic break. She's suffering from auditory hallucinations. She thinks that her government wants to kill her.
(As they wheel her by, Sydney sees Shephard. They make eye contact.)
FISHER: Her previous doctor submitted her for some rather experimental treatment. Lithium substitutes, neurolinguistic reprogramming. All of which had no effect on her condition. I'm still trying to find her parents, but until then, I need a place for her.
(They come to a stop in front of Sydney's new room.)
DR. KRUSHNIK: Is she taking any antipsychotics?
FISHER: Olanzapine, twenty milligrams. QPM.
(The orderly unlocks the door. Sydney grunts, eyes wide, and flies into Fisher's arms, pretending to be her condition.)
(The orderly takes her.)
SYDNEY: Aughhhh! UGH!
(He puts her in the dirty room. She claws at the doorframe, tries to get away.)
DR. KRUSHNIK: There are other institutions in Bucharest, how is it you honor us?
FISHER: Uh, the consulate. They directed me here.
(They lock the door on Sydney.)
DR. KRUSHNIK: This way. We'll get her admitted.
(Panting, Sydney stares. They walk away. She immediately stops the facade, and goes back to being Sydney. She stares in the hallway. A man screams in the distance.)
(Will walks in the hallway outside Eloise's apartment. He knocks on apartment two, but the door opens a little.)
WILL: Miss Kurtz? I'm coming in. Easy on the pepper spray.
(Will enters, looking around. The entire apartment is cleaned out. Everything's gone. She's gone. His lead is gone. He touches the wall. Fresh paint, still wet.)
(Funeral for one of the C.I.A. agents. An American flag is draped over the casket. Vaughn's eyes fall on a little blond eight-year-old boy, sitting down beside the grieving widow. Vaughn brings a medal to the widow. She takes it. Vaughn moves down to the little boy, who is crying softly. He kneels down, eye contact with him. The boy whimpers.)
VAUGHN: Your dad was a hero.
(The boy lunges at Vaughn, hugs him tight. Vaughn hugs him back.)
(In a room at Credit Dauphine, Marshall types. He sees a graph of what I'm assuming is download times and what files are being downloaded.)
MARSHALL: Oh, no. Oh, no.
(He stumbles out of the room, running. Outside, he runs into someone, goes up to Sloane.)
MARSHALL: That leak! The glitch! There's a worm! There's a hacker in our network! They're downloading all the files off the server!
(He runs into the main control room.)
MARSHALL: Got to cut the hard line!
(He flips a switch. The computers power down. "Internet connection lost" is the signal behind on the monitor. Marshall leans against the machine, gasping.)
(Sloane walks into his office, picks up a phone, dials.)
SLOANE: Hello, Allan. We need to meet. I think we have a mole.
(In the cafeteria at the institution, Sydney walks in line and gets a goopy mess on her tray. She sees Martin sitting alone at a table. She stares at him, sits down.)
(In the doctor's main office, Krushnik walks around where Fisher sits.)
KRUSHNIK: Sorry to keep you waiting.
FISHER: Oh, this is not a problem.
KRUSHNIK: Two more forms and her admission is complete.
(He sits down. Behind Fisher, a TV sits where it spots all the video camers. He watches.)
KRUSHNIK: By the way, while you were waiting, I called the consulate. Yes, I am speaking at the U.N. conference on refugees in New York next month. I called them about a visa. Naturally, I thinked them for having referred our institution and I was surprised to hear that they were unaware of any such recommendation.
(In the cafeteria, Martin stares at Sydney, panting.)
MARTIN: (whispering) Do I... know you?
SYDNEY: No man is an island, entire of itself. Every man is a peice of the continent.
(Martin jumps up and chokes her, throwing her against the table.)
MARTIN: Who... are... you?
(She punches him once. She goes to punch him again, but he grabs her fist, stopping her. He throws her down against the table where they were eating.)
MARTIN: Who... are... you?
(He chokes her.)
(The doctor's office.)
FISHER: Oh yes, of course. That is because the consulate referred me to the local health department. They made a recommendation.
KRUSHNIK: Well, that explains it.
(He sees the camera over Fisher's shoulder. He sees Sydney being choked.)
(Sydney is coughing. An orderly gets Martin off of Sydney. They stun him an electric prod and struggle with him, carrying him away.)
(They push him away. Sydney coughs, and gets up. Martin tears himself away from the orderlies, and tries to get at Sydney again. He's stunned again. An orderly takes Sydney away.)
ORDERLY: We know what you're doing, Miss Bristow.
(She tries kicking him. Two other men come and drag her away. She kicks in the air, trying to get away.)
(Agent Weiss walks down a hall in the C.I.A. office, reading something from a file folder. Another agent comes up to Weiss.)
AGENT: Hey, where's Vaughn?
WEISS: He's covering the funerals. Badenweiler? Why, did you finally get a date?
AGENT: You know that assignment Bristow's been sent to?
AGENT: The doctor who's running the place -- Krushnik?
AGENT: He's with K-Directorate.
(Weiss stops dead in his tracks.)
(Three orderlies take Sydney down some stairs, in a straight jacket. She speaks Romanian to them. She struggles. Grunting. She suddenly head bunts one guy, kicks the other two. They go down. She runs down the hallway with the jacket still on, goes around a corner, and ducks ina room. They run past her. Inside the room she's in, Sydney sees that a piece of the cage that covers the windows is broken. She puts her back to th window, backs in and the ledge of the broken cage unlatches the jacket as she moves down. Her arms are free. She takes the ties on the arms, stands on them, bends down, and pulls the jacket off. She stands up, completely free, and stops. She sees Fisher sitting in a chair -- she's in the office. His back is turned to her and he's not moving. Sydney moves closer to him.)
(She inches closer, almost too scared to see. She hesitantly turns Fisher around, and sees that his throat is slit. He's dead. Blood covers his white shirt. Sydney gasps.)