01x03 - A Cyclone

[bunniefuu]

Walter: My name is Walter O'Brien. I have the fourth highest IQ ever recorded: 197. Einstein's was 160.

When I was 11, the FBI arrested me for hacking NASA to get their blueprints for my bedroom wall. Now I run a team of geniuses, tackling worldwide threats only we can solve. Toby's our behaviorist. Sylvester's a human calculator. Happy, a mechanical prodigy. Agent Cabe Gallo's our government handler. And Paige? Well, Paige isn't like us. She's normal and translates the world for us while we help her understand her genius son.

Together, we are Scorpion.

Sylvester only seconds behind!

Oh, my!

But he is displaying facial stressors.

Will he choke?

Will... he... choke?

Toby! Just. J... okay?

Toby: The pace is breakneck.

The tension is high.

Children.

Toby: Ladies and Gentlemen, This is not for the pregnant or faint of heart.

Oh, oh, oh!

It's the old blind-bomber trick!

It's gutsy, it's cocky, it could serve to psych out Dodd!

No.

What? N-No.

No. Oh, no! Dodd rallies!

Dodd rallies!

Time!

Oh, oh. Ooh.

(laughing)

What the hell's going on?

Walter wins. As usual.

By a hair, pal. By a hair.

Team of Einsteins, none of you could tell time?!

Turn that noise off! We're late!

Let's move!

Oh, we were just blowing off steam, Cabe.

We're ready. Well, you better be.

The future of the team depends on it.

Director Merrick already thinks I'm crazy for forming a team of geniuses.

We got to prove him wrong.

Guys, guys, guys.

He's right.

This exercise is a huge opportunity for our company; for all of us.

I know we can do this. We're ready.

All right.

Forgot my hat.

Are you kidding me?!

Let's go!

(bell dings) Hurry up already!

Come on, come on.

What's the delay?

These have been here since yesterday!

Move!

Nemos, I just wanted to return my uniform and get my last check.

I don't understand this new job of yours.

Brilliant people.

I mean, what are they? Scientists?

Geniuses.

Kind of a liaison to regular people.

You know me... good with customers.

Yes, I know.

That's why you should stay.

How many times does an opportunity like this come along for me... for my son?

And I never know what this job will bring, but it's always exciting.

Walter, this is a mistake.

I'm not prepared for this.

I've got your back, buddy.

I've always got your back, okay?

Commander: Approaching the hot point.

Delta Team quells the insurgency.

Omega, locate the comm room.

Shepherds, the SMACKs.

You got 30 seconds to download that file.

You copy?

I'm clear on everything, except why you keep calling us "SMACKS""

Toby: It's an army funny.

SMACK... Soldier, minus ability, coordination and knowledge.

The Federal Government, good at acronyms and nothing else.

Does he know that I'm Director of Homeland Security?

Your superior?

They're just civilians.

Man: Got eyes on the compound. Moving in.

Move, move, move, move, move, move.

(commander shouts) I have plantar fasciitis.

Go. All right.

Happy: I designed the breach-device for a hard torque, so put your back into it.

(all shouting)

Man (over speaker): Down, down! Get down!

Commander: Come on, SMACKs. Move!

30 seconds to download the file!

Walter: All right. Sylvester, you take the right.

Commander: Faster than that! Let's go, boys!

Yeah, okay. Are you in?

Walter, there is encryption at the firmware level.

Damn it. This thing's in Arabic-Sudanese Unicode.

I'm panicking! I-I-I'm panicking!

Commander: We don't have time for this!

(sighs) Okay, okay, okay, okay.

Let's go, SMACKs! Come on! Okay, we'll adapt.

Perimeter breach! 15 seconds!

I'm done.

I can't concentrate.

I can't do this. I-I got you, buddy. I got ya.

Three seconds! You hear me?!

I got the file.

I got the file.

Okay.

Okay. Okay.

Commander: We're overdue!

Come on! Go, go, go...!

All right! All right, where are we going?

Where are we going?

Go straight! Go!

Oh, God.

I'm so sorry, Walter.

They're captured.

What's with the full contact, Agent Gallo?

Fall out!

Man: All right! Break it up, break it up!

Merrick: This is meant to impress me.

Your human calculator froze.

Your engineer has no concept of following orders.

And your shrink...

I don't know where to begin.

You can start by being nicer.

We were doing fine until that jarhead got handsy.

Where'd he touch you, exactly?

Guys, uh... Director Merrick...

(clears throat) ...the, uh, Marines talking smack in the Humvee caused a distraction.

Questioning our entry point cost us time.

26 seconds.

To be exact.

Their approach slowed us down.

The purpose of this exercise was to see if your purported group of geniuses could contribute to a high-end m*llitary operation.

I have seen nothing that makes me believe that that's possible.

And I'm starting to wonder if funding this group was a mistake.

They have no further duties until you hear from me.

Ralph, we talked about this.

Going to school is your job. You need to go.

I'm still nervous about my new job, but I need to go, too.

Be determined to have a great day and you will.

And do you know what I see over there?

I see that little boy wearing a t-shirt from L.A. Science and Cultural Center.

You love that place.

I'd call that an ice breaker, right?

You're gonna be okay.

Are you sure?

Mm-hmm.

Okay. Go.

I love you.

(school bell rings)

(cell phone rings)

Hey.

How'd it go?

For a Government Endeavor?

About how you'd expect.

Time for me to get chewed out again.

Yes, sir. Director Merrick.

Oh, okay.

Uh... I-I brought bagels from Kovelsky's on the corner.

You're not a waitress, Paige.

Though you may be again soon, if we don't iron out our issues.

The training mission report.

Paige: She hit a Marine?

Yeah, this was our chance to prove ourselves, and we end up, uh, self-destructing like we always do.

What... what can I do?

Find a way to fix us.

Hey, Happy.

I appreciate what you're doing, but I just need to settle down first.

Check in with me Saturday.

Toby: You still don't know us that well.

Happy suffers from hostility and anger dissonance syndrome.

Sylvester's anxiety, OCD, and more phobias than you shake a stick at.

Walter is textbook intellectualmegolomania and anti-obedience syndrome.

That should be fun to see how that plays out with Cabe.

Me? I am a narcissist with a slight dusting of addiction tendencies.

So, welcome aboard.

♪ Here I am ♪
♪ Rock you like a hurricane... ♪

(song clicks into headphones) Yeah!

(yelling): The Scorpions!

It's our theme song!

Is this how Ralph feels, being boxed out by other kids?

You just need a little more time to fit in.

You'll be fine.

And so will Ralph.

What is happening?

Our wireless is down.

How on earth is our wireless down?

That call from Merrick was about a b*mb.

Took out a law firm at One Wilton.

Homeland responds to all bombings.

The big commercial building down by Sixth?

How bad?

Took out the law firm and the basement beneath it.

Six folks in intensive care.

Can we tag along?

Merrick has you on ice.

One Wilton.

One Wilton.

They may have a problem a lot bigger than a lawyer's office.

Man: So, it was a big blast, but they weren't trying to take out the building.

Just the law firm.

Mark Brown, Family Law.

Pretty drastic step to settle a custody dispute.

LAPD said the lawyer found a note on his door.

"You ruined my life, hope I ruined yours."

Who's that?

Said he's assessing collateral damage...

Thank you.

The destroyed Internet equipment in the basement.

Showed me an FSG badge.

I've never seen one before.

Cabe Gallo, Homeland Security.

Agent Thomas Keeler. FSG.

Didn't know you guys operated out in the open.

Doesn't your jurisdiction only cover online communications and surveillance?

And when the internet goes down, we'd like it back up and running ASAP.

Walter: Cabe.

Keeler: Who's contaminating my crime scene?

I think this is an act of terrorism.

Friends of yours?

Independent contractors.

(cell phone rings)

Excuse me.

Why are you here?

That's Agent Thomas Keeler, Federal Surveillance Group.

They analyze all domestic data and communications for security purposes.

(coughing): That's unconstitutional.

Their agency has a direct line to Merrick, the Joint Chiefs, the President.

Any of them hear shouting about terrorism...

This intentionally nondescript building houses the hard cables that support Internet service throughout the Southwest.

That right there is what's left of them.

There was a note left on the lawyer's door.

Toby: That was a decoy.

If the bomber was targeting the lawyer over something emotional, divorce or child custody, the k*lling mechanism would have been intimate... stabbing or strangulation.

Structurally, you'd put the expl*sive in that light fixture.

Take the whole office out instead of just a section.

Whoever did this had to know that there was a seven-millimeter fiber trunk cable in the air vent so they could wedge a b*mb behind.

That's the vent configuration if everything is up to code.

Normally, there's no place to even plant an expl*sive.

I worked in the Building Commission for a day until I got fired for spilling some hand sanitizer on some blueprints.

With the Web down between here and Scottsdale, everything, from banking to emergency services is affected.

No access to cash.

Traffic will grind to a standstill by night.

Even the DWP runs online, and in less than a week, fresh water goes away.

This is about more than just people losing e-mail.

Keeler: He's right about that.

If you let us help, we can eventually restore full service.

In the meantime, we can help catch this bomber.

Who exactly are these independent contractors of yours?

They're a team of high-IQ personnel that I've been working with.

Give me a second.

You're trying to make up for blowing it earlier, but you guys are still brand-new at this.

You screw it up like you did this morning, it's over for all of us.

You.

You need to keep these guys in check.

That's your job.

Capisce?

Be determined to have a great day, and you will.

The bombing in downtown LA continues to have ripple effects.

Jerry Dowdell reports live from Olympic and La Brea.

Security footage almost set up.

All right, well, if that's the best you can do, we'll take it.

Happy, a 2000 Series Aggregation Router is being overnighted from Berlin.

Can we get it sooner?

We're not buying a mouse pad.

Walter: No, it's high-end product only made in Germany.

So we get it installed tomorrow.

Internet's up; everything is back to normal.

Far from it in the meantime.

Traffic lights are not working, causing near gridlock.

And now reports of a train crossing malfunction in Moore Park that's resulted in the death of two pedestrians.

Agent Gallo, I have a psychotic bomber to catch, and I don't have all day.

Happy: Surveillance footage is ready.

Walter: All right, Happy, can you run the films simultaneously?

So, first thing we're gonna do is run a Gaussian filter algorithm.

That way, you get rid of all the film where nothing moves.

It's a big problem with surveillance footage.

There. We just cut down the number of hours to search by 80%.

Where did you get this "Goss-ian..."

Gaussian.

Gaussian algorithm thing?

Photoshop. Toby, you're up.

We're gonna get a little un-PC up in here.

Traditional bomber profile means we lose Asians and Latinos.

Cut anyone over 60 and under 12.

That's not how this software is meant to operate.

expl*sives are traditionally a boys' club, so let's lose the women and anyone not wearing a hat or sunglasses.

All right, now who's ready for a little hustle and flow?

What's that?

Flow dynamics, study of herd think.

Actions, reactions.

When one gazelle's ears perk up, so do all the others, then they all run from the cheetah with the same urgency.

But... ah!

That guy in the hat and sunglasses.

White male, 30s, fits the domestic t*rror1st M.O.

See, he's calm, 'cause he knows no other bombs are gonna go off.

Run him through the program.

I did. It's no match.

Well, we'll take it back to the FSG lab.

We can clarify the photo.

You know, your software is decent, but it relies on three-point bone structure ratio, and that's pretty hard to compute when half of someone's face is covered.

How do you know so much about top-secret government software?

I may know someone who hacked into it.

Be that as it may, I'll rely on my technology.

Cabe, let's go, but I'm done with your friends.

Pump your brakes before you say something brilliant.

Walter: The truth is his $80 million software was beaten by a hat and sunglasses.

What did we say earlier about a chain of command?

You need to follow it.

Okay.

This is illogical.

We have a much better chance of finding that bomber than Cabe does.

Okay, let's go.

That's not what Cabe wants.

All right, the bottom line is Cabe wants this team to work, so if we find the guy that everyone's looking for, we won't ever have to worry about Director Merrick shutting us down again.

All right?

All right.

The bomber could have had a car waiting for him, but a co-conspirator, it increases the odds of capture.

Now there's a bus stop a street over, but that gives people too much time to see his face.

The plaza was full of people fleeing.

I mean, it was far too crowded for anybody to even get through.

Is he right about this?

Normal mathematicians run probabilities, the odds of a given set of facts taking place.

Sylvester's mind runs all potentialities, the odds of almost any possible scenario taking place.

That's incredible.

That's Sylvester.

That's Sylvester.

Bargain Nation. Okay, so, he enters in the chaos.

He walks to the back, and he exits out the loading dock.

Now he's three blocks away with little public exposure.

That is his best play.

That's why we don't wait for Cabe.

All right, we're gonna do this ourselves.

Those stores take great close-ups when you go in to prevent shoplifters.

They'll have him on camera.

Why would they give us a photo?

Because I lifted Cabe's badge.

Oh, Toby.

Oh, please.

The way you two were fighting this morning, I figured we would have gone rogue hours ago.

You should thank me for anticipating.

Now we have a close-up of our bomber.

That's still doesn't help us.

Hold on.

Hey, dude, are you done with that?

Okay, you look pretty done with that. Whoa!

Give me the photo.

This guy's got something to offer.

Lens effect.

Convex bottle and water to refract.

His key chain's a bottle opener with something on it.

Is that a turtle in a racing helmet?

That's McAdoo's Tavern.

They have turtle races on Saturday nights.

I lost four grand there.

Word to the wise, don't bet on Yertle McQuickShell.

She's misnamed.

What?

Hey.

We're, uh, looking for someone who might be one of your customers.

You know the guy?

My shifts vary.

I'm in and out.

I don't really know a lot of the regulars.

Really? Because you stop cutting lemon wedges when you answered.

You want to know why?

Because I had enough?

No, that's clearly not enough lemon wedges.

You stopped because the part of your brain that handles the details of small tasks like cutting lemon wedges also engages when someone's creating lies.

"I'm in and out. My shifts vary," and so on.

I'm assuming you're lying because you're on parole like the majority of bartenders working the day shift.

Your no-snitching criminal code is only gonna result in trouble that you don't want.

So why don't you answer our questions?

Hey, aren't you the guy who lost a fortune on that turtle?

What I do when I'm off-duty is my business.

The fact that you're lying means you know this guy or where in town he might lay his head.

So go grab a pen and write it down, or the next thing I'm gonna pull out of my hat is gonna be my cuffs. You got it, dish rag?

I know a waitress he took home one night.

I'll make a call.

You know you're not a cop.

You're a cop if you believe you're a cop.

Walter: Something's bothering you.

Yes, Walter, we're outside the house of a possible t*rror1st.

You guys might not be the best people to handle a situation like this.

And if I'm going to translate situations for you like you asked me to, I think you're making a huge mistake.

You want me to call Cabe.

I will do it for sure when we know the guy's in there.

Hold on a second.

I have a way to find out if he's in there.

Oh!

(phone rings) Oh, I like this idea.

Be right back!

That's my money.

Paige: Yes?

Hi, Ralph. How are you, sweetie?

Yeah, okay, I know there's no Internet, but maybe spend recess outside and play with the other kids.

Can you give me the phone, please?

Ralph, occupy yourself with this.

I have a riddle for you to figure out.

You can tell your mom the answer at the end of the day.

So, what kind of punch does a jellyfish like?

You got it? Okay, cool.

All right, hold on one second. Is any dreams you have of him making a team or being in student council, it's just, uh, not gonna happen.

I thought you told me he'd eventually fit in.

No, he will, just not at school.

Ralph? Excuse me.

Hey.

She's very sweet. I know you think she can help, but purely from an analytical point of view, what exactly is her purpose here?

Oh, take it easy.

Sylvester, come on, help me out here.

She's pretty.

Walter: Do I need to remind you guys that when I found Happy, she was paying people to be her stand-in at fabrication competitions because she can't stand to be judged?

When I first met you, you were about to get beaten by an Atlantic City pit boss, and do we even need to discuss the state that you were in? It wasn't pleasant. I-I saw something in you guys. I see something in her. She'll thrive at this job. You just, you have to trust me.

Hold this.

I need a parabola.

Give me that tape!

Walter: That's the only thing holding my seat together. I need the mic.

Here.

(groans)

This umbrella is disgusting.

Okay, everyone quiet.

Footsteps.

Paige: Walter, you really need to call Cabe.

(line ringing)

Hold on.

Sylvester: I think it's him.

Be cool, guys.

Come on!

Oh! Happy, Happy!

We can nail this guy! Happy, Happy!

Happy! (groans)

You do a loop around the block and make sure that he doesn't come under the bridge. Paige, get in with me now.

Toby: Chasing bad guys isn't out thing.

It is now!

No one will ever know if we just don't do anything.

g*dd*mn it.

Happy: I'm right on your six, you dumb son of a bitch!

Paige: There he is. We got him.

Walter, it's a dead end.

Dead end!

(tires squealing)

(groans)

Halt! Stop! (grunts)

(tires squealing, horn honking)

Paige: There he is!

Paige: Oh, my God! He's got a g*n!

Walter: Aah! Get down, get down, get down! Aah!

(bus horn blares, tires screech)

Oh... oh, no...

Not good.

Cabe: Blown pupil.

Spinal fluid coming out of his nose. Comatose.

Well, the good news is we found the guy.

Keeler: Really?

Is that good news?

'Cause I thought we might want to question our only witness, find out his agenda.

Where some more bombs might be.

But we can't do that when the guy's in a damn coma.

Great job, Mensa.

Mensa?! Please.

There are p*rn stars in Mensa.

I will write all of you up for hindering a Federal investigation.

You hitched your wagon to some real stars, here, Gallo.

Thank you, Toby.

Hey...

Where the hell do you think you're going?

You're going to the suspect's house to gather evidence, I can help you.

If I want your help, I'll ask you for it.

You have the same look Ralph does when he can't figure something out.

(sighing): Right. All I know is that...

(clears throat) if the only suspect dies, and we don't get the whole story on what's going on, then more people could get hurt and that would be our fault.

(inhales, groans)

I don't think this experiment with Cabe survives, and we need this.

The mentally-enabled don't find a home this easily.

It's safe for us here, you know?

I overheard you and the guys talking about me earlier...

Oh, they-they didn't mean anything by it.

I don't think you guys say things you don't mean.

But I quit a job to be here.

I have a kid and bills and no other options.

Now, I heard you tell them that you believe in me... well...

I believe in you, too, but you guys don't listen.

You think you're always right because you are almost always right, but if you keep boxing me out, like the cool kids on the playground, then... you're correct... this won't survive.

(door opens)

Would it buy them any good will if I told you they know they screwed up?

Barely.

Bits and pieces from the guy's garage.

Assume it's IEDs.

I'll take a look.

Need a hand.

Bomber's computer.

It has some kind of security setup.

The only reason we're getting a sh*t at this, is 'cause Keeler's men couldn't get through the firewall.

And it's important we do, because the guy's fingerprints aren't in the system, and all five of his aliases have come up empty.

All right, I'll get into it.

(typing rapidly)

Craftsmanship on the wiring indicates U.S. Special Forces training.

But there's only one reason to have these other pieces.

And these things here... are leftover sequencers.

But they were all set for some time within the half hour, all coordinated via local frequency transmitters.

And what does that mean?

There are more bombs.

But they were all supposed to go off in LA at the same time.

I think the b*mb at One Wilton malfunctioned and went off early, and more bombs are coming down the pike real soon.

You think or you know?

(multiple explosions thundering)

I know.

(emergency sirens wailing)

He hit a mall, a radio tower and an armored car.

I don't get it.

What he's doing is random. It makes no sense.

Um, guys...

I've been to every one of these sights, and I still don't see a pattern.

Guys, maybe it isn't meant...

See, it's terrorism without focus, and that's not how these guys work.

Hey, I'm talking.

We're trying to figure something out.

Don't interrupt me, Toby.

The armored truck wasn't the target.

I was a cashier at a Pic 'N Save.

When the truck shows up depends on how much extra cash double-coupon Wednesdays brings in.

So it shows up at different times each week.

There's no way to plan bombing something if you don't know when it'll be there.

So maybe he put the b*mb in the garbage can to take out that building, not the truck.

She might be right.

Remember when I said you'd thrive?

Feels good being right again.

Cabe: So if the building was a target, the next logical question is "why?"

Well, it has to be some business in that building, right?

I'm gonna call Information.

That's a good idea.

Oh, afterwards, let's write on one of those zeppelins I've heard about.

Cabe: Yeah, hi.

My name is Federal agent Cabe Gallo, badge number 2835.

I want to get a rundown on all the numbers running from 939 Conklin.

Thank you.

Before computers, people had to actually talk to each other.

Yeah, I'm ready.

Casperson Film and Print.

Lynchfield Printing... Greytech.

Greytech... that's it. That's it.

Thank you for your help.

Greytech specialize in slow storage servers, places that hold old data that's rarely accessed on-line, like, uh... five-year-old bank statements...

So he bombed the Internet hub and then a slow server but... that doesn't explain the other targets.

They're red herrings.

The bomber wanted his att*cks to appear random, to hide his real motive.

But what is it?

He's taking out sites where... data would be stored long-term and the ability to distribute it on-line, so maybe the bomber's got a secret he doesn't want getting out and he's willing to blow up the city to erase it.

Reporter: There's an increasing sense of panic in the city.

Traffic signals are still sporadic.

And now, overloading electrical transformers have erupted into flames, igniting several homes and a brush fire.

Director Merrick's all over my ass because the damn city's falling apart.

I hope to God you're making progress with the bomber's computer.

Oh, I am.

It shows a failed attempt to hack into a file at a slow server.

Now, the file belonged to an e-mail account by the name of Frank Turner.

Frank Turner d*ed two weeks ago.

I printed out this article for you.

A hit and run?

More like "Hit and run""

The car that actually k*lled him was never even found.

But if someone is willing to blow up buildings to erase Frank Turner's files, it has to contain something very incriminating.

On someone very important.

But how in the hell do you erase a file once it's on the Web?

Oh, it can be done.

You got it, right?

Right.

Okay. Yeah.

First, you'd need to destroy the means of distribution.

He did that when he blew up the building this morning.

Next... you need to get rid of where it's stored... the slow server.

He did that when he blew up Greytech.

Now, if you want to get really a**l about it, you take out the router hub.

What's that?

Most people don't know this, but when you send a file on-line, it sits at a small router before moving on to a slow sever.

But even as it goes, it leaves a copy of itself.

A shadow file.

And that remains for a few weeks, and then... (snaps fingers) disappears.

Now, the problem is there's thousands of router hubs, but millions of files going in.

So we're tracing Frank Turner's IP address, trying to track down the right router hub.

It's like looking for a needle in a haystack.

Toby: I got it. And it's actually more like trying to find a needle in a pile of needles.

Ladies and gentlemen, who wants to sew?

Because I just found that needle.

Frank Turner's IP address leads to a router hub in sunny Tarzana.

Come on, follow me.

I just saved a whole bunch of people.

We find what's in that e-mail, we'll know who wants to destroy it.

Exactly what are you looking for?

If we explained it to you, your mind would melt into your socks.

It's official government business.

Just... give us some room.

Normals, huh?

No offense.

None taken.

Got it.

E-mail from Frank Turner to a heavily encrypted account.

Whoa.

All right, "My name is Frank Turner. I was a member of FSG..."

The agency Agent Keeler's with.

Walter: "In violation of U.S. and international law, FSG, under Agent Thomas Keeler has been spying on the White House, the State Department.."

Stop right there.

So Keeler found out about this, took Turner out, and then went after that data.

Just copy it onto the drive.

I'll get it to the DOJ, get a warrant to arrest Keeler.

That son of a bitch.

He brought you in just to keep an eye on you.

Keeler hired the bomber?

A black ops ghost, who couldn't be traced back to him.

Sylvester: Here's the file, Cabe.

FSG's a black budget funded operation.

They recruit out of the CIA and the Special Forces.

(distant beeping) They're plugged in with no oversight.

Happy, what are you doing?

I just heard something.

What are you...? Happy?

Hey, hey, hey, hey...

Oh, my God.

Where's she going?

Hey, hey, hey... ...just be careful, okay?

Where's she going?

(steady beeping)

Guys, big problem.

(beeping continues)

It's mean-looking.

Enough plastique for this building and the one next door.

Uh, based on the speed of the blinking light, and the acceleration of the beep, I would say that we have approximately five minutes and 31 seconds.

I thought you said there's no chance he'd choose this building.

(Sylvester counting down) He didn't.

There are no sequencers on this device.

And it was put here recently.

Did someone tell Keeler we were going to be here?

I told Merrick.

Yeah, who kept the FSG in the loop because he doesn't trust us.

(b*mb beeping faster)

There's no time to call in the b*mb squad.

(sighs)

All right, we're gonna have to evacuate the building ourselves.

Have the maintenance man pull the fire alarm.

That leaves the building 20% full.

They'll think it's a drill.

All right, then go floor to floor.

But just keep an eye on time, okay?

Uh-huh.

Cabe, you gotta get that drive to the DOJ. If this place goes up, it's the last existing version of the file.

Sylvester, make sure he knows how to open it.

Happily.

You're gonna need this to get into the DOJ.

Where'd you get that?

You dropped it.

(tires squealing)

Sylvester: Are there a lot of people working for the government like Agent Keeler?

It makes it kind of hard to trust officials.

He's a rarity.

There's no sense going around terrified that the government's after you.

(breathing hard)

The file. Now.

I'll put a hole in your head.

You give me that file.

Okay, you want to get smart, huh?

Cabe: No, no, no, no. Wait, wait, wait wait.

(grunting)

(siren approaching)

Don't you move!

Paige: Everybody needs to exit!

Guys, evacuate the building!

This is not a drill!

Come on, go, go go!

Everybody get out of the building, now.

Evacuate now!

Hey, you guys!

You need to run!

Toby: This is not...

Happy: I can't defuse this.

Sylvester: We're down to 3:40, 39, 38...

This wiring is all jerry-rigged, pure guerilla IED thinking.

Anything could trip it.

Well, if we don't run now, we're dead; if we do run now, everyone else left in the building is dead, so... any ideas?

If it were 1840, we could drop it down a well.

What about the roof?

No time.

Wait!

Janitor supplies.

Joint compound.

This b*mb's gonna blow, but we can lessen the impact.

If this, uh, janitor likes his grub salty, we might be able to mute the b*mb.

Salt speeds up the hardening process, but you gotta mix it in thoroughly.

Ah! Ha ha!

Salt packets! We're in business.

Guys, hurry, hurry, hurry!

Get out of the building!

Sir, get out of the building!

Paige: Toby!

You're bleeding. You're bleeding.

Oh, my God. We gotta go.

Happy: If this works, the blast will take out the garage, but save the building.

Ah... we're down to a minute 30.

Here we go.

(b*mb beeping)

If the salt works, it should harden pretty quick.

It'll mute the blast enough to contain damage to this garage.

If it's not stirred until it's hard as a rock, it won't mute anything.

Happy, you gotta go find Paige and Toby.

Get 'em out of the building.

You got about a minute left.

I run when you do.

Do it now, okay?

I'm right behind you.

You better be.

Happy: We have seconds to get clear!

One in front of the other, dimwit.

In half a minute, this building goes.

Paige: Where's Walter?

He's coming. He promised.

(b*mb beeping)

(Walter grunts)

(choking)

Cabe...

(grunts)

(g*nshots)

I don't want to sh**t anyone, but I will if I have to!

And honestly, I don't know who I'd hit, so, so please... put the pipe down! (g*nsh*t)

(grunts)

He'll get out.

He knows the time left.

(screaming)

(car alarms wailing)

♪ ♪

Okay.

I still don't know what it is, exactly, you do here.

But... I'm glad you're here.

(laughs)

You're welcome.

You could've left him in the building, you know.

I'd be tempted.

Can you get anything from your computer?

No, it's ruined.

Blast destroyed and shredded the hard drive.

Thumb drive is dust.

So he erased all the evidence that could tie Keeler to these bombings.

He might be in custody now, but he'll be gone by morning.

What if someone knew that on December 17

Keeler and the U.S. Secretary of Defense had a meeting about illegal drone strikes in Pakistan and Keeler recorded it to use as blackmail?

I'd say it's admissible evidence.

What-what are you getting at, son?

Sylvester was standing over my shoulder when the unencrypted file scrolled through.

He memorized the whole thing.

It was almost 30 pages, though.

It only took a second.

There are a lot of incriminating things in there.

Dirty things.

You're coming with me to Homeland.

We're getting what you know down on paper.

Sylvester: Okay.

We got Keeler.

He's going away.

Maybe Merrick'll back off a bit now.

Cabe... what about, um... your doubts?

I want this to work.

I need it to work.

I wasn't promoted to Los Angeles.

I flamed out in New York, after the Baghdad incident.

The thought of 2,000 civilians dying and me carrying the blame...

I was a hair away from forced retirement when I came up with the idea to try to make cases with you.

So you thought that we would be the jolt that your career needs?

I want some blood off my ledger.

So even though you may not trust me, you should know that I trust you so much that I've put everything into this team and you.

(door opens)

How would a normal person react to what he just said?

(laughs)

Say "thanks," and you appreciate it.

Maybe next time.

My glucose level is plummeting.

I just called for a transport for Keeler.

We'll stop and get you a burger on the way to Homeland, hero.

We'll all get food.

Paige: I can't.

I've got to pick up Ralph from aftercare.

Well, we'll all go.

(children laughing, shouting)

How was your day?

Okay.

Walter: Hey, Ralph.

So... what kind of punch does a jellyfish like?

A smack.

Because a group of them is called a "Smack" of jellyfish.

You know a bunch of turtles is a "bale"?

Don't ever bet on them.

Hippos hang out in a "bloat."

A pride of lions and a parliament of owls.

Army of ants.

You know, um... what a family of scorpions is called?

A cyclone.

Now, scorpions are very loyal to their cyclone.

But if one of them is att*cked, all the others dive in.

And we, all of us, we're a cyclone.

Toby: This cyclone is hungry.

Let's get some food!

You know, eventually, uh, everyone fits in.

♪ ♪
♪ Here I am ♪

Toby: Ralph! This is our theme song!

♪ Rock you like a hurricane! ♪