Wow.
Really something, isn't it?
It's absolutely... horrible.
It's not, though.
Fire's a miracle.
Naturally clears the forest, recycles nutrients into the soil and stimulates new plant growth.
Ugh. That is a load of hippie, tree-hugging nonsense.
How'd you become a forest ranger if you don't love the outdoors?
Because I hate the indoors.
Hey. I got nothing against nature.
But it can be argued that it was a good thing a meteor hit the Earth and wiped out all the dinosaurs, so they weren't here to eat us when we came along.
But I think we'd all agree it'd be a bad thing, however natural, if a meteor were to hit us now.
Huh?
Jake?
What the hell?
Oh, my God! He's all b*rned up.
Oh, he must have gotten caught in the blaze.
What was he doing up here?
Don't touch him!
He's only b*rned on one side.
How could that possibly happen?
Miracle of fire?
There is nothing good on the Internet anymore.
Yeah, I think that Internet thing has just about run its course.
Pop-up ads, banner ads, video ads--
I think this whole page may be an ad.
Ad for what?
Hair loss pills?
This is a pill that makes people lose their hair?
It's for growing hair.
Why would I need more hair?
Not you. Men.
Like I need more men?
Men need more hair.
Women need less.
Must be an industry if you put those together.
Take the hair from the women. Put it on the men.
This is a prescription eyelash wand.
Yeah, Ziva, I think your morning Internet routine needs a little bit of tweaking.
That is that thing. That thing where people tell complete strangers whether they started their day putting on both socks and then both shoes or one sock and one shoe or the other sock or the other shoe.
Tweaking, not tweeting.
Tweeting.
There's one on there that's really good.
Guy's talking about everything his roommate's doing and the roommate doesn't know about it.
It's highly entertaining. I'll send you the link.
Ooh, I got a link for you.
No more links.
I haven spent my entire morning sifting through all of this nonsense, looking for something that matters.
How hard is it for someone to tell me the news and bring it to me?
There must be a better way.
What?
Hey, boss, I got an article here that you may want to read.
I can send the link to your email or text the link to your phone.
Or I can just print it out on paper and give it to you in your hand.
It's a revolutionary concept, McGee.
Where're we going, boss?
West Virginia. The Appalachians.
Got a dead Navy pilot. Pack your hiking boots.
Breathtaking.
Yeah, it was for Lieutenant Commander Brad "Hondo" Sayers, U. S. Navy.
Granted extended leave from Pax a week ago.
Fighter jock.
He's a test pilot.
Can't believe I'm getting a signal out here.
Rangers flipped him over to identify him.
Who's going to identify the rangers when Ducky gets through with them?
You're not supposed to touch the body.
What do you think, McGee?
This guy eject out of a plane or what?
Carbon fiber helmet's designed for skydiving, but the suit is flame-retardant.
Well, it only did half the job.
Other half of him's crispy.
McDLT.
I don't get that one.
That's not a McNickname.
The McDonald's McDLT.
Hot side hot. Cold side cold.
That's very tasteful.
Forest rangers say this area has been off-limits to hikers since it b*rned a month ago.
Winter fire season.
Now, forest fire didn't k*ll him.
Some fire did.
A high-temperature expl*si*n blew his arm right off.
Ah, animals could have pulled that off.
You are awfully close to that body, Timothy.
I'm just trying to get a look at what's on his back.
Look with your eyes, McGee, not your hands.
You have a long ride coming up here, Palmer?
He wouldn't let me drive.
I begged and begged.
What is it that makes you so anxious?
Flight suit.
Helmet. Dead man's a pilot.
And this doesn't look like a parachute on his back.
You think he fell from the sky, McGee?
Without a parachute.
Well, there should be a lot more metal pieces around here.
Okay. Look around.
Got an arm or here.
Well, the flesh kind or the metal kind?
Metal.
Hmm.
Got a nozzle.
I got another body.
Oh, don't move it.
Here I come.
Bag it up, Palmer.
Mother lode.
Fuel t*nk?
Yes, that is a fuel t*nk.
Interesting reading, Jethro?
Yeah.
McGee seems to have an instinct for this one.
Perhaps baby bird is ready to leave the nest.
Well, boss, we're a few fingers short of a hand, but we got some good stuff here.
Guy pulled a Scarecrow.
Pieces of him everywhere. Here you go, Ducky.
Hey, look at you, Palmer-- you bagged yourself a flying monkey.
It's a squirrel.
Fuel t*nk. Control arm.
Joystick.
So, McGee, do you know what k*lled Lieutenant Commander Sayers?
Yeah, I think I do.
You think?
Or you know?
I know one thing.
His jet pack exploded.
Jet packs.
Yeah.
It's gonna be a weird one.
Lieutenant Commander Brad Sayers.
Naval Academy grad, primary aviation training at Pensacola.
Advanced at Lemoore, Top g*n at Fallon.
Unmarried, no kids.
Call sign "Hondo"
Vo¡la John Wayne.
I thought he was "The Duke."
He is. He was.
Always will be.
Sayers was part of a squadron of test pilots at Patuxent River Air Base.
The first to fly experimental planes.
m*llitary experiments with jet packs?
No.
I wouldn't-- well, yeah.
They did, but...
After years of testing various designs, ultimately they decided helicopters were more practical for earth-atmosphere flight.
Although NASA's compressed gas-powered Manned Maneuvering Unit evolved from Bell Systems' rocket belt technology.
"Rocket belt" being the original terminology rather than the more colloquial "jet pack."
McGee's very passionate about the subject.
We spend a lot of time her, just the three of us.
I was telling him about the bonus features on the Thunderball DVD, which were pretty interesting, and he says, "Um, Tony, bonus features aren't science, " and so he...
He schooled you.
Yep.
Where is he now?
He's, uh, down with Abby.
We cannot tear him away from the evidence.
Hmm. Well, I'll see you both there when you get back from Pax River.
The August 1928 issue of Amazing Stories first stirred the national imagination.
It featured the Skylark of Space on the cover.
And then you got Buck Rogers.
What's really amazing is how much more fascinating jet pack trivia gets the 11th time you've hear it.
Did you know that the original rocket belt was propelled by a chemical reaction and not traditional jet fuel?
I know!
You showed me your PowerPoint presentation, like, five years ago.
But I've updated it.
To include recent breakthroughs in single-man flight.
Oh.
Good.
Yeah, the Swiss pilot and engineer Yves Rossy and his four-engine glider.
And the Kiwis.
See, everyone thinks that they are going to be the ones to cr*ck the commercially viable prototype with the Martin.
Ooh.
What do you got?
It's residue from the flame suit.
Hydrogen peroxide...
That makes sense.
And kerosene.
Kerosene?
Strange use those two in combination.
Doesn't sound like any prototype I've studied.
Maybe they got...
Oh.
What do you got now?
McGee... that's the elevator.
McGee!
I Thought you'd want to see that.
I can't believe the Mexican auorities dropped the charges against Colonel Bell.
Colonel Bell.
Wonder if there's any relationship to Bell Labs.
Bell Labs-- inventors of the rocket belt.
Rocket belt's an amazing model.
It's a catalyst that decomposes hydrogen peroxide into pressurized steam and oxygen.
You get significant thrust from lightweight rockets for about 30 seconds...
I got it, McGee. You know a lot about jet packs.
Boss, when I was a kid, stationed in Alameda, my parents took me to the opening ceremonies of the '84 Olympics in Los Angeles.
Right.
And the guy flew over the crowd.
Bill Suitor.
Flew right over my head, I swear.
All right.
I believe you.
You got the lead on this one.
I knew it. I just knew it.
I mean, Hoo'd never go a week without getting up in the air.
Off base, against navy regulations.
Your men are subject to the same restrictions as the average pilot?
I don't know exactly what an average pilot is, Agent David.
None of them are naval aviators.
These boys-- they operate under extreme stress.
Some of them find relief in taking jobs outside the squadron. We allow that.
As long as it doesn't interfere with combat readiness.
Hondo-- man, he was a rare breed.
He'd drink six or seven cups a coffee, and he'd strap himself to anything that goes fast.
Who was he closest to?
Commander Peter Sheridan.
Hey, Banshee!
Sir. I'll catch up with you.
Yes, sir?
Banshee, we got some bad news.
Hondo?
Yes, sorry, Commander.
He d*ed in some sort of expl*si*n or crash.
What did he crash?
You assume he was at the stick?
Hondo never takes a backseat to anyone.
Control freak.
I think it'd be more accurate to say he was careful.
He's got to be.
With these machines and their power and speed, slight movements have major consequences.
We try not to think about it too hard, but it happens.
So, what did he crash?
Believe it was some sort of jet pack.
Crap.
Victor Tillman. That's who you want to talk to.
Came to me first.
Aerospace engineer.
Company's called Tillman Air.
Banshee went up the ladder for a waiver, navy rejected it.
Didn't want to support his research.
Tillman must've gone to Hondo next and convinced him it was worth ignoring regulations in order to have the chance to fly something like that.
Thank you.
Hey.
Was there anything left of him?
If you're sure I'm ready, Doctor.
Mr. Palmer, the time has come for you to fly solo.
The body is all yours.
Dr. Mallard, I am suddenly overcome with the desire to share a story of only a peripherally relevant nature.
It's a hazard of the profession, Mr. Palmer.
So, you'd advise I refrain under the
"gotta learn to walk before you run" column?
Not at all.
As long as it doesn't impede your focus.
Think of it as spreading your wings.
Though, bear in mind, the fate of young Icarus, who disregarded the warnings of his father, Daedalus, and flew too high.
And the wax that held his feathers on was melted by the sun.
And he fell to his death.
Fall was the cause of death?
Ah, Jethro, for once, you have failed to pick up the threads of our conversation.
I was not speaking of, uh, dear departed Lieutenant Commander Sayers.
Fall wasn't the cause of death?
Yet to be determined.
What were you guys just talking about?
Mr. Palmer was about to regale me with a tale that is only tangentially connected to his first solo autopsy.
Of a squirrel.
Um...
Work through your fear, Mr. Palmer.
This, uh, this reminds me of my junior year abroad.
I was staying with a family outside of Lyon who spoke only French, and my French was okay at best.
And whatever you might think of the people of France, these squirrels are extraordinarily friendly.
So, I had to explain to them my fear of squirrels. You see, in D. C. there are brown squirrels and there are black squirrels and at the time, black squirrels carried rabies.
So, my mother used to bait traps with peanut butter, capture the squirrels and release them on the other side of the river, so they wouldn't bite any of the kids.
But I confused the words acureuil, which means squirrel, with the much less accurate requin which means, uh, shark.
How they must have pictured your strange homeland with your shark-hunting mother.
What's the point of the squirrel?
Oh, um, we believe his cause of death may be related to Sayers.
In desperate situations when the food supplies are scarce, squirrels will eat almost anything, including human flesh.
Fire eliminated all the other options.
Yeah, and we have to inventory Rocket J's stomach to confirm its contents, but initial dental impressions suggest that his last meal was Sayers' soft tissues.
Yes, hypovolemic shock.
Massive internal bleeding.
This squirrel was likely poisoned.
Secondary poisoning.
This squirrel d*ed from eating Sayers' toxic organs.
Sayers was poisoned?
Then we can't yet say if it contributed to his fall to Earth, but...
Somebody was trying to k*ll him.
Since the dawn of time, man has dreamed of flight.
Is it gravity or nature, or merely the limitations of our imagination that has kept us grounded?
This is a public demonstration in 1961.
Functional technology nearly half a century ago.
Measure that against progress in other arenas.
Internal combustion engine, radio, television, the Internet.
In 50 years, they go from impossible to practical, to ubiquitous.
Meanwhile, they keep the jet pack relegated to the world of science fiction.
They?
The jet pack conspiracy?
Well, boss, if you look at it, it's really the only logical explanation.
Hey.
The primary obstacles to a commercially viable model are weight, flight time, distance and simple controls.
Did we miss the part about the motorcycle parking spaces?
Imagine a jet pack landing and refueling area at your office.
Apparently not.
The average daily commute is 16 miles one-way, but the variance in travel time is huge, because of roadway congestion.
Slow drivers.
Bad drivers.
What is so hard? You go as fast as possible.
When something gets in your way, you turn.
You're quoting Better Off Dead.
I told you to watch that.
Thirty-mile radius.
Simple enough that you don't need to be a helicopter pilot to fly it.
Patent that, and we are all living like the Jetsons.
Or dying like burnt-out bottle rockets.
There is a thin margin for error, yes.
Sayers had rat poison in his system.
Abby confirmed it.
He was impaired while he was flying.
In Commander Cody's brave new world, we're gonna be pulling people out of the sky for FUIs.
F. U. I. s.
So, the crash did not k*ll him?
Well, it didn't help.
What'd you guys find?
Uh, Sayers was test flying on the side for a Victor Tillman.
Tillman Air.
Put out a press release a couple months ago, saying they were getting close to an unveiling.
Sayers' death in one of those jet packs would not be good for business.
Smacks of a cover-up.
All right, gonna need to get a look at Tillman's financials.
I'm gonna stay here, you two go out and talk to him.
So, McGee is not coming?
To the jet pack factory?
Okay.
Well, you get your homework done, and then you can go out and play with the neighbor kids.
Good boy.
The price of being in charge.
It's gotta be a punishment.
Some kind of motivational technique.
McGee staying behind?
I don't get it.
It's like the carrot.
You know, the carrot in front of the horse?
Israeli drivers ed must really be something.
He's still there.
Who is?
I got a tail.
Wow. Hmm.
I can't believe he bit it.
B But I can.
You know what I mean? I mean, it's like those guys who raise bears and then you find out they get eaten by one and you say, "Oh, yes, of course."
But Hondo-- oh, fireball is exactly how he would've wanted it.
Oh, man... you know, it just doesn't make any sense.
Why's that?
You said you found a pack.
Where did he get the pack?
Well, yeah, that's why we're here, Vic.
Right, right, right.
Uh, we're going this way.
She's fine.
Oh.
This is a secure area.
Uh...
The card's in my pocket.
I'm not touching you.
Yeah.
I got it.
After you.
Thank you.
Smile!
Safety is my primary concern.
I try to stay away from the more combustible fuel sources.
Makes it a challenge to manufacture sufficient vertical thrust while keeping it compact.
Yeah, how's that coming?
We've maintained level flight at an altitude of seven to ten meters for up to nine minutes.
As you can see, the controls are extremely sophisticated.
These are my babies.
Bravo, Juliet... and Oscar.
Huh, my Bologna has a first name.
Sounds like you're missing some letters.
Not every model makes it to the final testing phase.
Some of them never even get off the ground.
Well, seeing a few similarities to our model here, Vic.
Each piece is extensively logged, branded, patented and kept under lock and key.
Believe me, no one is taking anything from me.
Again.
Excuse me?
Sounded like you cut yourself off before you could say "again".
So, who stole from you, Vic?
This is your area of expertise, McGee.
I'm down here trying to put together a jet pack jigsaw puzzle, and I don't even know what it's supposed to look like.
Abbs, you know that's what I'd rather be doing, but I gotta go right now.
What, McGee, Tillman's financials not thrilling you?
Not at all, boss.
As an individual, the guy's got $47 to his name, but he has corporations inside of corporations, hiding cash since his divorce from Vanessa Tillman.
That the ex-wife?
And former chief financial officer.
They split, he fires her, turns into a messy fight over everything from the house to the company's proprietary technology.
Where's his money?
I cross-referenced payments from his corporate account against the time Sayers wasn't at Pax.
Tillman was paying Sayers five figures a pop.
Yeah, he was up to his elbows in it.
And he wasn't the only one.
Sayers wasn't just collecting checks from Uncle Sam and Victor Tillman.
For some reason, Vanessa Tillman had him on the payroll as well.
Hey!
Come on!
I don't know what you think happened here.
Talk to him.
We think your test pilot is dead, and we think that you had motive to k*ll him.
I liked Sayers. He was a great guy.
What motive would I have had to k*ll him?
It wasn't even my pack.
He was being paid by your ex-wife.
That son of a bitch!
So, you didn't know?
No, I didn't know.
Of course I didn't know.
If I had known, I would have...
I would have fired him.
She was my top competitor.
Locally.
Well, yeah. The Kiwis got a big jump on me.
And the Swiss.
Oh, come on. A collapsible wing?
It's great for distance...
But without hover capability, it'll always be for professionals, I know.
This is a patent for a mixed-fuel propulsion system.
It's a hybrid of H2O2 and kerosene.
Lab tests show that mixture was found on Sayers' body.
Has your name on it.
Is it yours?
Yes.
No.
Can't have it both ways.
Vanessa got it in the divorce.
Nice candid.
You got a plate?
Of course.
Lanny Carothers.
Hmm, Maryland P. I. license.
Somebody hired a private investigator to follow us.
Maybe it is not us. Maybe it's you.
Maybe it is you.
Hello.
I believe you're holding my client.
Oh, I'd be happy to hold anything you need.
Charming, Mr. DiNozzo.
Please take me to see Victor Tillman.
M. Allison Hart, attorney for Victor Tillman.
This looks cozy.
Have you read my client his rights?
Uh, he hasn't been charged with a crime.
Then release him.
Charge him or release him.
What's the confusion?
Were you planning to interrogate him without an attorney present until he incriminated himself in some way that you find beneficial for your investigation?
Oh, man, what a car wreck.
He didn't ask for a lawyer.
And you didn't offer.
Chick's mowing McGee down; he doesn't even know it.
She seems to be enjoying it.
You've already violated my client's right to his privacy.
His financial records were accessed today without proper authorization.
And I have reason to believe that you were the source.
Maybe you're the one who should be charged with a crime.
McGee.
Let's go, Tillman.
Miss Hart... your client... hiding behind a lawyer-- it makes me wonder why.
I can see your mind is spinning, Mr. Gibbs, but once the hamster gains some traction on the wheel, and you figure out the questions you want to ask, you feel free to contact me directly.
Not my client.
Were you ever a redhead?
'Cause it sure feels like I know you.
No.
But I know you.
I know you take any shortcut to a conviction.
Really? Doesn't sound like me.
You look the other way when your team hacks privileged information, when they break into a police impound lot and steal evidence, when they start a bar fight.
Just out of curiosity...
...do you have any respect at all for the law?
You and your client are free to go, Miss... Hart.
I know.
What kind of name is Mallison?
It's M. Allison Hart.
I think they're missing some punctuation.
Oh. So, a guy dies in a jet-pack expl*si*n, and she won't let us talk to the guy that manufactures jet packs?
That's just mean.
We don't know that he d*ed in the expl*si*n.
He was poisoned.
I found that.
But you didn't determine whether he was poisoned to death or just to some level of discomfort.
Well, the thing about poison is that the human body doesn't want it, so when it's ingested, it does its best to expel it.
See, there was a high level of warfarin in Sayers' system, but his organs are so destroyed, it's impossible to tell whether it was the cause of death.
You don't see the flaw in this logic, Palmer?
You mean the part about how he strapped himself to a jet pack and flew around and blew up and that he couldn't have done all that while already being dead?
Yeah.
Yeah, I don't know.
It's a neat trick, though.
Ooh.
Ooh, what?
Ooh, this.
Okay, we know the fuel source.
Combination of hydrogen peroxide and kerosene.
Definitely combustible, but what was the source of ignition?
What causes a catalytic reaction?
Well, you mix them together the wrong way.
Bingo. Redirect the flow of kerosene from the exit port of the motor...
Back into the H2O2 t*nk, and...
Kaboom.
All you'd need is a movable valve, and this rocket belt would self-destruct.
So, how does this valve get reversed?
This isn't a valve, Palmer.
Right.
It's our smoking g*n, and whoever made it is our k*ller.
I'm just getting settled in.
Victor dragged his feet as long as possible through the divorce.
You split everything equally?
We split.
There was nothing equal about it.
We shared a home, an office, ambition...
Whenever two people try to extricate their lives from each other, friction is inevitable.
Hmm. Is that true, boss?
These are Victor's designs?
Victor's a genius, sure.
Great. Do you have any idea how annoying it can be to spend all your time with a quote, "brilliant man"?
No. What is that like?
He could never listen to an idea that wasn't his.
So stubborn.
Oh.
I do know what that is like.
Huh. He ever get violent with you?
No.
You ever get violent with him?
It wasn't like that.
I wanted to experiment with fuels.
Victor was myopic.
Tunnel vision on his prototype.
Just so we're clear, your marriage fell apart because of jet packs?
Because of communication.
We could no longer communicate.
You hired Sayers to test your version.
Yes, and I know what that looks like, but the last test flight was over a month ago.
I can show you the records if I could find them.
He also kept you informed on what Victor was up to.
Since you could no longer communicate.
Sayers had experience.
He was skilled.
These are complicated machines, whatever the design.
They all look the same.
There are a myriad of differences, believe me.
This one uses the same fuel source that k*lled Sayers.
I didn't give him the pack, if that is what you're implying.
Is that what you were implying, Mr. Gibbs?
Don't say another word, Ms. Tillman.
You are entitled to legal counsel.
She's your client, too?
If she wishes to be.
And I would advise her at this time to refrain from speaking to you.
You also represent her ex-husband.
That's not a conflict of interest?
My interest is justice, Mr. Gibbs.
Mine, too.
Then we should get along just fine.
If you have any other inquiries for either of my clients, feel free to contact me.
No, thanks. I already got one.
Lone samurai playing both sides against the middle.
It's like Yojimbo, or A Fistful of Dollars, which is the Western remake of Yojimbo, so it's really like Yojimbo.
Sayers was test flying for both camps.
And the pack that kills him is made of pieces of both of their designs.
Oh, yeah, you're right.
Why do you sound surprised?
You just said the same thing.
No, I was talking about the lawyer, not the pilot.
She must have represented the Tillmans as a couple.
I don't think that's the connection here.
Figure it out.
I want to know the endgame.
Which one, the lawyer or the pilot?
Both of them.
I'm confused.
Time of death, Duck?
I'm trying to determine the sequence of events that ended Sayers' life.
There are so many threads left to disentangle.
You got no time of death?
You haven't even given me a definitive cause of death.
It-it is a frustrating case.
That lawyer woman, Ducky.
She's trying to keep me from talking to anybody that matters.
If I didn't know better, I would say she's getting to you.
Oh.
She acts like she hates me, but she talks like she... likes me.
Ever been married to her?
Yeah, that would explain it, wouldn't it?
Come on, tell me you got something.
Well...
Sayers' helmet shielded his face from the burst of the expl*si*n and the subsequent attention his corpse drew from the native wildlife.
However, I found acidic erosion inside his throat and inside his nasal cavities.
It appears to be stomach acid.
He vomited.
Violently.
Profusely.
However, Abby found no corresponding acid on the inside of his face shield.
What does that mean?
Somebody cleaned him up and then put the helmet back on him?
Likely.
I strongly doubt that he was conscious when he was strapped into the harness.
He was...
Well, it's possible he was...
He was what?
Flying dead?
Well, explain that.
It's a remote control receiver?
Yes, it is.
What is the range?
Almost a kilometer.
I don't speak Canadian.
How far is that?
Sayers' pack could be remotely operated or remotely detonated.
We did not see anything like this in either of the Tillman designs.
It has to be one of them.
Does it? Maybe we're looking for a completely different fabricator here.
Maybe it's neither of the Tillmans'.
Yeah, boss?
Hey, I want the Tillmans and that lawyer person there.
Okay, right away.
Let's find out.
We recovered this RF receiver from the wreckage.
I want to know which one of you this belongs to.
An RF receiver.
What a stupid idea.
Oh, because you didn't think of it?
Oh, this is your dumb idea?
No, it's not mine, but it's not dumb.
Mr. Tillman, Ms. Tillman, please.
We're gonna need to see your inventory lists and blueprints so that we can confirm that neither of you manufactured it.
I will consider your request.
It's not a request.
Well, look at that. A court order.
Was that so hard?
Wait a minute, does he still think one of us m*rder*d Sayers?
Oh, he was working both of you.
Well, you insist that you didn't provide him with the equipment, he must've stolen it.
Well, then he was very good at it, because that's news to me.
You knew he was stealing from your husband.
You...
Mr. Gibbs, clearly, your intention here is to stir up some animosity in the hopes that an emotional outburst will reveal some insight into your investigation.
Or have you uncovered some facts that need corroboration?
I would hate to think that you brought us in here under false pretenses.
Time of death was 13 days ago.
I was in the Bahamas.
That's your idea of a traditional winter vacation?
No, it was Steve Bennett's idea.
Where were you?
New Hampshire.
With that slut, Laura Truftin?
At least she likes sex!
I like sex!
I just don't like sex with you!
Enough!
I assume that's all.
That's all? Fantastic.
Jerk.
After you.
Well, one of them ends up dead, we won't have far to look.
Would it be impossible for you to apologize for implicating them in Sayers' death?
Yeah, they're off the hook.
I expect we've seen the last of each other as far as this case goes.
I don't know.
I might have to keep my eye on you.
Why?
It doesn't seem like you have a clue what you're doing.
I think he's about to have a thought.
I think blood is about to come out of his eyeballs.
No, this is gonna be impressive.
All right, this is a remote control jet pack.
That is what we're looking at here.
Okay, that wasn't very impressive.
Hmm.
Excuse me, it's very impressive.
Do you understand the countless tiny adjustments have to be made manually in order to maintain level flight?
It's an art flying a jet pack.
That's why both the Tillmans hired an expert pilot.
But...
Wait, let him go.
He's building up to something.
See, without a pilot you'd need a modified fly-by-wire system with computer assisted stabilization.
But to build that, you would have to be an expert engineer.
So, are we looking for a pilot or are we looking for an engineer?
Oh, there's a lightbulb.
We're looking for both.
Palmer, hand me those blueprints.
Yeah, that's right, boss.
It's everything we found on her.
Got it.
It was his!
What was?
The pack.
It didn't belong to either of the Tillmans.
It belonged to Sayers.
He built his own jet pack?
The pack uses fighter jet engineering.
That's the missing piece.
Sayers ripped off the technology from both of the Tillmans and...
He borrowed from the navy, as well, to build his own version, which used the best of all three.
But it crashed.
So, it was not very good.
That was the intention.
The intention was to crash.
To dispose of the body where it wouldn't be discovered.
It was pretty far off the beaten path.
Any decent pilot could've flown it.
How about a great pilot?
Sheridan wanted the job with Tillman.
He petitioned the navy for it.
But Sayers took that, then picked up a second one.
Sheridan loses out twice, probably doesn't respond well to that.
Gonna pull the squadron's psych profiles.
Let's double-check their paperwork, scan their files for engineering backgrounds.
I need to talk to Gibbs.
Where is Gibbs?
Right here, Elf Lord.
Boo!
You're following me?
You had my people followed.
So you had to even the score?
No, I do my own legwork.
So, what'd you find?
A patent filing.
Five years ago, you billed Victor Tillman $400 an hour.
My rates have gone up since then.
I bet, but on this case, you waived your fees.
You took them both pro bono.
In my experience, the money is a by-product of doing the right thing and doing it quite well.
You know what, you weren't looking for a big payday at all.
No?
No, no, you were looking for me.
Egocentric.
You were looking to pick a fight.
I didn't pick this fight.
But now that I met you, I'm glad to be in it.
I just can't believe it, Agent Gibbs.
There was money to be made, Captain.
Sheridan wanted the job, and Sayers took it from him.
There was another job to be had as well.
Sayers got that one, too.
I knew Banshee was competitive, but I never imagined it would turn violent.
Might not.
Yeah.
Sayers was k*lled with poison.
Likely slipped into his food or drink.
It's really not all that violent.
More common with female K*llers, actually.
Really?
Yeah, really.
We got a court order to search the base for evidence, uh, starting with Sheridan's locker.
You sure?
Yeah.
Commander, a word.
I got a hop in ten.
Yeah, you're not gonna make that.
You're proficient with fly-by-wire technology?
'Course I am.
Is this about Hondo?
You know what happened to him?
He was stealing tech secrets from the Tillmans and the Navy.
Using pieces of all three to build his own prototype.
Complete with fly-by-wire.
Could be controlled with a remote like this one.
He built this? That's impossible.
Hondo, he was a great flyboy, but...
Better than you?
In some ways.
But that's all he was.
He couldn't build a soapbox derby racer.
Right, no engineering background.
That's why he needed a partner.
That's who k*lled him.
You were just saying I was his competition.
Now you're saying I'm his partner?
No.
If the guy partnered up with Sayers to build a prototype, he wouldn't have destroyed the only one.
There's got to be another one around here somewhere.
Here he comes.
We just need it to look like you're our man, Banshee.
He is going for it.
Where is he?
He's inside.
This is the only way out.
Wow!
This is unbelievable!
McGee, you got him?!
I'm scanning frequencies.
McGee!
All right, I'm locked on.
Got him.
Bringing him back, boss.
Oh, here he comes. It works!
Oh, this is sweet.
He's like a hummingbird. I want to fly him!
No.
Tony, stop it!
You're gonna break it!
Get him down!
All right, I'm bringing him down, boss.
He's coming.
Hands in the air!
Let's go, Rocket Man.
Hey, where's McGee?
Hey, boss.
He's, uh, resting his fried circuits.
I don't know what the big deal is.
Just a little rocket science.
Yeah, it's not like it's brain surgery.
I want to see more pictures of her.
Yeah, me, too.
All right.
I get your fascination, boss.
She's a spellbinder.
You could get lost in those icy blue eyes.
You know what was a little weird, though?
How she seemed to know me before we met.
Not just me, either. You.
Us. That one right there.
Is that her and Colonel Bell?
Bell sent her.
How did you know?
Her hand, his shoulder.
Photo's been cropped.
Huh.
You got that off a pinkie?
What do you think they're up to?