♪
Here's your change, sir.
Thank you.
And your food. Thank you.
Thank you.
Mmm... Mmm...
♪ NCIS ♪
Devil's Trifecta
♪
DiNozzo.
We'll take it from here, boss.
Sketch and sh**t, McGee.
Relax. I told you I was okay.
Rough day at the office.
I was too tired to take it off.
Not too tired to sh**t back.
He ruined my favorite jacket.
I'd have sh*t my own mother.
Thanks for coming.
Didn't have a choice.
sh**t was Navy.
Meet Navy Seaman
Tyler Brown.
22 years old.
Just returned from his first deployment on the U.S.S. Enterprise.
His TDY was mess duty, pending his next assignment, and that is all we have.
You recognize him, Tobias?
Never seen him before in my life.
Well, he must have known you.
You receive any threats lately?
Just from my ex-wife.
But then, she lives on my bad side.
Six sh*ts, right through the chest.
Nice sh**ting. Remind me not to get on your bad side.
Jethro, I think we can safely say that cause of death was...
One pissed-off FBI agent.
Can you think of anyone you might have antagonized?
Is there anyone I haven't?
I put 30 guys behind bars in the past year.
12 of them are out already.
Gonna need a list.
I know the drill.
My gut tells me you're barking up the wrong tree.
You see the sh**t's car? I'll bet you ten bucks he's hopped up, looking for some easy cash.
The constriction in his pupils might suggest that he was on some sort of stimulant.
There you go. Carjacking.
I was a target of opportunity.
I think you were a little more than that.
Found this in the sh**t's car.
You were not a target of opportunity.
You were targeted.
That's my license plate.
♪
Is this a bar?
What's a guy got to do to get a drink around here, huh?
Sober up. It's not even noon, and you're hammered.
My parents are Hungarian, all right?
It's aft...
After 8:00 in the Motherland.
I know. Now, behave yourself.
I got to talk to these two guys from NCIS.
Look around-- you think you're the first Navy cops I ever seen?
FBI. He's NCIS.
You know this guy? Yeah.
He moonlights here when he's off duty.
Is he in some kind of trouble?
He's dead.
That's trouble. You don't seem too broken up about it.
You gonna tell me what happened?
Seaman Brown tried to sh**t me; I sh*t back.
He a bartender?
Bouncer.
Best I had.
Didn't mind kicking ass when needed.
Didn't mind? The guy got off on it.
That's enough out of you.
No.
How about a little more?
You care to elaborate?
Hey, don't believe a word he says.
All he does is annoy my customers all day long.
Al! I'll be back in two.
Okay.
Hey. Talk. Huh? Oh.
Like I said... jerk-o-matic.
And you didn't get it from me, but I think he was dealing speed on the side.
You ever see it?
Well, no, but, uh...
I hear things.
Don't go anywhere.
♪
What are you thinking?
Ducky did say he thought the kid was on something.
I think we wait for the blood work.
Then we run it down.
That's funny, she looks just like our ex-wife.
Well, this is a coincidence, the three of us running into each other, like this.
Oh, I doubt that.
What are you doing here?
That's none of your business. Excuse me.
Okay.
I'm working.
That what you call pushing papers all day?
I am an auditor, not a paper pusher.
After Emily graduated eighth grade, I went back to the IRS. Fitting, isn't it?
A cheater going after tax cheats.
Are you still going on about that?
It's ancient history.
So, what are you doing here? What else? An audit.
There were some discrepancies with the bar's tax return.
So you're gonna pretend you don't know anything about what happened?
What happened?
Diane! I was...
Shh...
"Shh"?
Shh!
You two spring a leak or something?
Oh.
I thought you'd left.
We just have a couple more questions for both of you.
Okay. Just remember that our conversation is... confidential.
Of course, Mrs. Fornell.
Mrs.-- Fornell?
But I spoke with the owner-- he appreciates the offer, but he's not interested in selling his bar.
Selling... The bar?
Didn't she say "audit"?
Yeah.
Do you know what "confidential" means?
Do you know what "obstruction of justice" means?
We got her settled in Interrogation.
Good thing I had my tetanus sh*t.
I almost lost a hand. Uh, she was quite, uh, vocal about her displeasure.
Perhaps, uh, the conference room... would have been a more suitable place to question her.
Oh... they stick together, don't they?
I tried small talk, but... she wouldn't say a word.
No. She needs to cool off first.
You really gonna hit your ex-wife with an obstruction of justice charge?
Yes. The manager said she was interested in buying the bar; she never mentioned anything about any audit. Which means she lied to a federal agent. He also said she introduced herself as Diane Fornell.
Which means she's using an alias.
Actually, she's using two. Look what I found in her purse.
And please, don't ever make me spend time alone with her again, ever.
She sucked you in, too.
But what's the game? I didn't know then.
I sure as hell don't know now.
Her presence at the bar where Seaman Brown worked might have simply been a coincidence.
No way. And enough with the girl power. More likely she finally hired that hit man she's been talking about for years, to take me out.
No!
No.
But we should put a pin in that.
Seaman Brown-- what do we know about him?
Background confirms what the annoying drunk guy told you.
Brown wasn't exactly model Navy.
He was reprimanded several times for fighting with his shipmates and for being late for duty.
He was actually in the process of getting a bad-conduct discharge.
But we didn't find a thing in his background that connects him to Agent Fornell.
Other than the fact that my ex-wife showed up at his workplace today.
No putting it off any longer.
Interrogation time.
I can't wait to see this.
Don't worry about it.
You're gonna have a front-row seat.
How dare you!
Questioning me like some common criminal!
Who do you think you are?
When I get through with you, Agent Coif... you're gonna be wishing your parents hadn't even been born.
Coif? And you two!
What, are you too afraid to come in here and face me yourselves?
I won't dignify that with a response!
You just did.
Okay, I don't want to be here, either.
Will you please sit down!
Will you please just sit down?
I have already told you, I don't know Seaman Brown.
She's lying-- her lip curled.
I saw it.
You also told Agent Gibbs and Fornell you were at the bar for a tax audit, but you told the bar manager you were interested in buying the place.
It is a woman's prerogative to change her mind.
Is it a woman's prerogative to carry two fake I.D.'s?
You went through my purse?
No.
McGee did.
Now, uh... does your husband know that your... walking around town posing as Mrs. Fornell?
Victor is in Turks and Caicos at a destination wedding with my daughter.
What's the matter, you didn't get invited? Yes, I was invited.
I just needed a little... time to myself. Stop it!
You two!
I can hear you smirking from in here. Listen, you tell Agent... uh, McGee that when I catch your frickin' scrawny ass...
Gibbs, the interrogation is ov...
Right. Should've seen that one coming.
Gibbs... the interrogation is over.
Why?
Well, it took you long enough!
I'll bet she's a panther in the sack.
Yes, sir.
I understand, sir.
Thank you, sir.
Idiot.
Satisfied?
I'm satisfied I'm cleared to talk.
I am unsatisfied that now I have to talk to them.
"Cleared"? Mrs. Sterling was telling you the truth, as least partly.
She did go back to work for the IRS, just not as an auditor.
She's been promoted to a GS-11 position in Enforcement.
Which means...
It means that you two aren't the only ones with a badge.
Wow.
My breakfast burrito is about to say "hello."
The IRS Deputy Commissioner called when he heard that we had... one of their agents.
Agents? Wow.
"And the Lord wept." Yes, agent.
And I was undercover when you two bumbled into the bar.
Undercover on what?
Big tax-fraud case.
Somebody's stealing identities, filing fake returns and making off with a boatload in fraudulent refund checks.
Costs the IRS billions each year.
We have traced several identity thefts to the bar.
My plan was to I.D. the thief and follow him back to the ringleader.
I was posing as a buyer so I could interview the employees on the DL.
You were posing as Mrs. Fornell.
Budget cuts.
A fake I.D. is expensive.
I was improvising. Improvising?!
Your improvising almost got me k*lled!
You must have ruffled the wrong feathers, Agent Fornell.
And those feathers thought I was part of your op and put a hit out on me!
Sorry?
Sorry?!
All right, calm down.
If there was a hit put out on you, it means Agent Sterling is getting close, which also means she's in danger, too.
I want to see your files. No way!
It wasn't a request.
Oh, I'm so sorry, let me rephrase that. Go...
I said calm down.
Everyone.
You'll have plenty of time to review her files.
Since this case now spans three federal agencies, your bosses and I have decided that the three of you will be working on this case together.
Here she comes.
Here I go. Gibbs told us to stay put.
Better you should run for the hills.
You know, I am not any happier about this than you are, so can we please make it as painless as possible.
So says the Queen of Pain.
What is going on? New assignment.
Special Agent... Sterling will you bring you up to speed.
What...
Oh, that's-that's... very cool.
Chucky, would you pull up the IRS mainframe, directory: dsterling; password: Tobias cheap.
As I told Frick and Frack already, somebody is running a major fraud operation against the IRS, stealing hundreds of identities, submitting thousands in fake tax returns.
We've traced the identity thefts...
To the Navy bar where Gibbs and Fornell bumped into you?
And you think someone there was lifting driver's license info.
Probably Seaman Brown.
As a bouncer, he would've checked every I.D. that came through the door.
You must be very proud, Jethro.
Clearly Brown is not the mastermind behind this operation-- he doesn't have the accounting chops.
We're looking for somebody else. Did you run down the addresses of the fake tax returns?
Yeah, all P.O. boxes, all dead ends.
They keep rotating them out for new ones.
Where are the perps cashing the refund checks?
Well, various storefronts on the opposite side of town.
I've already run down a whole bunch, but I got a bunch more.
You thinking what I'm thinking?
Yeah.
Gibbs and I are gonna double-check the P.O. boxes, just in case you missed something.
And me? Check-cashing outlets.
Opposite side of town.
I'll be with you in a minute.
This is not even close to the "opposite side of town."
No, but I knew if I said that, the boys would want to split up.
I'm not taking a break from my husband just to spend it with my exes.
A break?
Are you and Victor having difficulties?
Victor, no.
Me, yes.
I... Did not mean to intrude.
Now, don't get me wrong-- Victor, he's a good man and he's... he's a great role model for Emily, but I just...
I don't know.
I'm starting to wonder if I made a mistake getting married again.
How so? Well, I...
I settled down so... early, and I just went from marriage to marriage, you know, and I never went out and acted crazy, like all my friends.
Mm. And now you wish to... act... crazy?
Yeah.
I want to go out and do something wild.
Just let loose for once.
Huh.
That's hard to do if you're married.
To Victor.
Look, guy, I'm gonna need some kind of I.D., okay?
Next.
Or working for the IRS. Hm.
Agent Sterling, IRS, Criminal Investigations Division.
Agent David, NCIS.
I'm not getting a check-cashing vibe.
We're gonna need some information.
These are fraudulently obtained IRS refund checks.
They were cashed here-- we need to know by whom.
Fraudulently obtained? Hey, that's not my fault.
Well, as the owner, it's your responsibility to help us find out whose fault it is.
All right. If it's one thing I'm good at, is throwing people under the bus.
Uh... yeah, I recognize the billing code.
Oliver Lambert.
An accountant who comes here once a week, cashes checks for his clients.
Do you have his contact info? Yeah.
I have his contact info, records of transactions, I've even got the guy's shayna punim on video, if you'd like.
Just give me a sec.
Just like the man said-- once a week, like clockwork, Lambert cashes about a dozen refund checks and then splits.
Looks like we've got our mastermind.
An accountant should certainly have the chops to scam the IRS.
He and Seaman Brown must've been working together.
No word on Lambert's BOLO, boss.
He wasn't at his home or office, and his cell phone is off, but we did get his computer.
Have you checked race tracks? 'Cause I notice every single time Lambert shows up, he has the same piece of paper folded up in his back pocket.
It's a betting sheet.
He likes the horses. I'll expand the BOLO, but I don't think he's hanging around-- he just emptied his bank account.
Nah, he's running.
Must have found out the Feds are after him.
I'm guessing he already knew.
He's probably the one who tried to have you k*lled, remember?
Speaking of which, Diane is probably on his hit list, too.
It's getting late. With Lambert on the loose, she should probably... sleep at your house tonight. I'll talk to you later.
No, you're right, she shouldn't be alone, but since you married her last, I think that means your place.
This is gonna be good.
I've got no clean sheets.
My heater's broken. I've got toxic black mold in my kitchen.
I'll let these two figure it out, since I know the one place she's definitely not staying.
Oh, this is ridiculous.
Why can't I just stay at my place?
They can post an agent outside my door.
'Cause the best way to protect you is to make you hard to find.
Well, then trust me, we're good, because no one's gonna come looking for me this close to where you shower.
Look, I'll take the couch; you can have the bed.
I would rather stand; I'll take the couch.
Whatever.
You don't have to be so rude about it.
Me? Being rude?
This coming from the woman who spent the entire car ride over here telling me I had the worst possible haircut for my face.
I was trying to be helpful. Oh, were you also being helpful when you told me my elbows weren't pointy enough?
What does that even mean?
Cut me slack, Chucky.
I almost had my daughter's father k*lled, my husband wants to leave me, and now I find out my own life might be in danger?
The rumor I heard was, you were thinking of leaving Victor.
It's none of your business; I don't want to talk about it.
Trust me, fine by me.
Oh, the thing is that Victor, he used to tell me every day I was the most beautiful woman in the world, and now he... doesn't say that anymore.
So has he changed... or have I?
What do you think?
Excuse me?
Well, it's a simple question.
You're an attractive man-- I-I want to know, do you find me attractive?
Um... you mean physically, or...? I mean, when it came to Jethro, you know, who could blame me for that?
And he was still in love with his dead wife, and I was just another in a string of failed marriages, but then Tobias and... and now maybe Victor...
You're worried something might be wrong with you?
Yeah.
Look, you're... attractive.
At least on the outside.
I'll take it.
I'm sorry.
I didn't mean to unload on you like that.
I just... you know, I guess I... what I really need...
To be alone? No.
Yeah, well, believe it or not, I...
I think I just need a hug.
I'm not hugging you.
Why not? Uh, it's not gonna happen.
You come over here and hug me right now, damn it!
No way.
What kind of man are you?
Here you have a depressed, miserable coworker standing right in front of you, you can't even give her a simple hug?
Your parents failed.
Hey, Gibbs, what's taking so long?
Come on, people!
Chop, chop!
Holy Fourth of July weenie roast!
What the hell am I looking at?!
Mm?
Whoa! Boss, this is not what it looks like.
What does it look like? W-We were talking and, you know, we fell asleep on the couch.
Intertwined like horny rabbits!
What's it to you? So what if something happened?
No, no, nothing happened. We're not married anymore.
No, but you are! Why are you...
Enough! We need to all put a pin in it.
Abby's got a lead on an accountant.
Hey, boss. Abby found an e-mail on the accountant's PC about an overdue payment on this rental house.
That's the search warrant.
Where's Agent Sterling?
We thought it was best for the op for her to take a shower.
I mean head back to NCIS to assist Abby.
I told you, nothing happened.
Rental house? Yeah, Lambert went out of his way to hide his connection to the place.
So, let's see what's inside.
McGee... you and I take the back.
No. I'll go with you.
What was that all about?
I don't want to talk about it. Come on, spill it.
NCIS! Open up, we got a search warrant!
And an agent keeping secrets!
Shut up and open it, Tony. Relax, McGee.
Whew! It's colder in here than it is outside.
Fishy.
Right. Of course.
The accountant was renting a home for his frozen fish collection.
There's nobody home.
Nobody living, at least.
Is that the drunk guy from the bar?
Okay... if you don't tell me what happened between you and Diane, then I'm just gonna have to believe the rumors.
Tony, how many times do I have to tell you? Nothing happened.
Wait. What rumors? The kind that would make a grown man blush, McGee.
Even our latest victim turned a slight shade of pink when he heard one.
And he's dead. Oh, please don't tell me everyone here is talking about this.
We're working an IRS fraud case.
You sleeping alone is more interesting.
Much less you sleeping with... I didn't.
We didn't. Look, we found a house filled with nothing but frozen fish.
That's not more interesting to you?
No. Diane and I feel asleep on the couch, talking, that's all.
Well, given Agent Gibb's and Fornell's propensity for v*olence, that's the story I would stick to if I were you.
All right, much as I find your sexual escapades riveting, the story that I'm really interested in belongs to this man.
Go ahead, McCasanova, change the subject.
His name is Viggo Kiln.
From what we can tell from the files found at his home, he was working with Seaman Brown and the accountant.
Viggo provided the assist, playing the lovable barfly chatting people up, getting the details about their lives so that they could steal their identities.
Once the accountant had enough info, he'd file a fake return, then collect the refund check.
Yeah, well, it seems our barfly's services are no longer required.
We extracted two b*ll*ts from his brain cavity.
Execution style.
Abby ran ballistics-- two .22-caliber low-loads.
She also matched them to a g*n registered to an Oliver Lambert.
The missing accountant.
Well, maybe the two had a falling-out.
Maybe Lambert knew we were on to him, was looking to tie up loose ends?
Well, neither of which explains the presence of the frozen fish.
Do you have a theory as to its significance?
I think we have a good working theory on the fish-- I just want to dig a little deeper before we take it to the boys, just in case we're wrong.
I think we have enough to go to Gibbs.
Yeah, Gibbs maybe, but Fornell?
The man takes too much pleasure in proving me wrong. The last thing I want to do is make him happy.
So... do anything, um... crazy lately?
Huh? What do you mean?
Well, you told me yesterday you wanted to go out and do something crazy, so I was just wondering if... you did.
Nailed it! I found a clue.
This is a shipping manifest for a place called Donggang in China.
You pull it up?
And 's right on the border with...
North Korea-- that is the third in a row.
Too many to be a coincidence.
And nobody likes those, especially when they involve North Korea or couches.
What do we got?
We were going over the shipping manifests we found in the fish house, and we noticed a pattern.
All of the fish are being exported to small fishing villages, all on the borders of some very interesting countries.
Syria, North Korea and Iran.
The Axis of Evil 2.0.
Well, that doesn't look good.
And what's with sending fish to fishing villages?
Doesn't it usually work the other way around?
Well, we're not sure what that means.
I know a customs agent I could talk to, see if he'll issue a BOLO on similar shipments.
That might shed some light.
Tobias, go back to the FBI, do the same thing. Jethro, MTAC.
See if there's any new intel on Syria, North Korea or Iran.
Did she just give us orders?
Yeah.
But they're good ones.
I know!
Where'd everybody go?
To find out why frozen fish are being sent to border towns of our political adversaries.
That's weird.
But what's weirder is that it's not just fish.
The official fish name is Thunnus alalunga, otherwise known as albacore tuna.
And when I decided to take a closer look...
Adson's retractor.
That one. Oh.
...I found something very odd.
Forceps.
Is that a cell phone? Yep.
There's a cell phone inside the fish?
There is a cell phone... inside... every fish. Is there anything on them?
So far, they're all unregistered, but I noticed that their IMEI numbers indicate they all came from the same manufacturing batch.
I was able to do a wideband search of the batch number, and I found an active cell in the group.
Someone with a fish phone made a phone call.
To...? To... our missing accountant's private voicemail.
I'm guessing from the length of the call that they knew the password.
It may be him. It's a good bet.
There was nothing useful in the voice mail, but...
...I got the location of the caller.
No sign of Lambert.
Same here. And I'm getting tired.
Didn't get enough sleep last night, huh?
This is a wild-goose chase.
Guy made one phone call from here.
He's long gone. Well, you can always go back to NCIS, wait for Diane to come back from ICE.
But we should leave no stone unturned.
Speaking of the Spawn of Unholiness, I did some checking with a buddy of mine at the IRS-- know what I heard? That's she's not leaving Victor, it's Victor thinking about leaving her?
How did you know that? Can't say I'm surprised, either.
You ever notice how she never gets sick?
Even germs don't like her.
But this Victor thing explains something else that I heard, something that I suspect you don't know, since you don't look nauseous.
I don't get nauseous.
We'll see about that.
Mm. Ask yourself something.
What are the odds of Diane being assigned a case in your jurisdiction?
Pretty good. She was.
No. She wasn't.
She was originally working a different jurisdiction on this tax fraud thing.
When the identity theft was traced to a Navy bar, Diane asked to be transferred to your jurisdiction.
That's right.
I can hear those stomach acids gurgling from here.
Her father was Navy.
I worked for NCIS.
Diane, she's just more familiar with the m*llitary.
You keep telling yourself that.
Because you know what I think?
I think she asked for a transfer because she was hoping to run into you.
Looks like McGee has got a little competition.
Boss, it's Lambert, on your nine.
Okay, here we go.
Let's move.
Oliver Lambert?
Yes?
NCIS.
FBI. Need you to come with us.
Would you take your hands out of your pockets, please, sir?
The money I took from the IRS wasn't for me.
I'd love to hear about that; I'd love to see your hands even more.
Put your hands where we can see 'em.
I was just trying to set things right.
Sudden moves are not your friend.
But I'll... tell you everything now.
I gave them this week's payment, but they're worried.
I... I think they might try and k*ll me.
Hands!
Ducky confirmed Lambert d*ed of multiple s*ab wounds.
Fornell is still taking statements, but witnesses report seeing Lambert in a car with either a man, a woman or nobody, depending on who you talk to.
Lambert said the money he took wasn't for him.
Sounded like he was in the hole to somebody for something.
One of his clients.
Abby found this thumb drive in his wallet.
Looks like Lambert was gathering evidence to cop a plea.
His files show that he embezzled from one of his clients, then blew the money at the track-- and he had a statement for the D.A.
It says that the client threatened to k*ll him if he didn't repay the money he took, then forced him to steal from the IRS.
And then some. Client must be a scary guy.
You got a name? No. Lambert left it out.
Well, maybe he's holding it for his plea bargain.
Okay. That was Diane; she's on her way.
Her fish BOLO came back.
Customs found another container headed for Donggang, China.
More cell phones? No.
This time they found DVD's and luxury soaps inside the fish.
Client's a smuggler. Put up maps.
There's U.N. sanctions on all these countries.
Which means no Western cell phones,
Dora DVD's or lavender-scented bath soap.
And I thought the middle class here was having a hard time.
Diane's contact thinks the smuggler is using local fishermen to get the goods across sanctioned borders.
Apparently, it is quite common.
Was Diane able to trace the shipment?
It was a dead-end.
Shipper's info was all fake.
Well, it's a good thing you can't fake DNA.
Because I've got some.
So, I ran DNA on our tuna to try to figure out where it came from.
Sadly, for those of us investigating fish-based crime, there's no national database to compare it to.
But...?
My fifth favorite word.
But... I sent Jimmy to pick up albacore tuna from every supermarket between here and Alexandria, and I got a familial match.
Our smuggle fish definitely came from the same catch as our sample from F&G Grocery.
And they buy their albacore from a man named...
Avis Boyle. He owns a small fish distributor that serves the tristate area.
And according to his tax return, he was a client of Oliver Lambert.
He's our smuggler.
Abby already briefed me.
First?
Let it go.
We have to figure out our next move.
Our next move is arresting Boyle.
For what? That's right, Woodchuck.
You can't tie him to Lambert's m*rder.
The books don't mention Boyle by name.
And the fish DNA...
It's circumstantial. Now, the IRS has had their eye on this guy for some time, for undeclared earnings, but they could never prove it.
But you got an idea.
And it's a good one. Why do I feel like I'm being set up? Not you. Boyle.
So his accountant was laundering his money.
But now the accountant's dead.
Well, Boyle's gonna need a new one.
No, forget it.
Can I finish? We don't have a lot of time.
I've got to approach Boyle before he hires somebody else to start doing his books.
I can talk the talk.
You can wire me and then bust him when he incriminates himself.
It's a good plan, and you know it.
You're not going in alone; I'm coming with you.
You might regret that when you find out where Boyle is today.
Oh, I regret this.
I am so glad
this is you and not me.
We're reading you loud and clear, boss.
And we're getting a solid image from the camera on Diane's brooch.
Which looks much better on you than it did on me, by the way.
Just be careful not to knock it loose.
Oh, it's not going anywhere.
You spent more than enough time attaching it to my ex-wife's... bosom.
Way too much time, if you ask me.
I guess he didn't get enough last night.
What?
No, I...
She's just...
Diane, the joke is over!
I'm just having a little fun.
♪
So, shall we find our man?
Do you remember how you proposed to me?
Yeah, I didn't think so.
Don't feel too bad; I don't, either.
"Didn't get enough last night." That's what she said.
Which implies that you did get something.
I didn't get anything; there was nothing to get.
Will you two just shut up?
Hey, isn't that our mark?
I see Boyle... twelve o'clock.
You ready?
Yeah.
That was the most boring best-man speech I've ever heard.
Oh, it was my nephew's wedding; he told me to keep it clean.
Congratulations. Thank you.
And you are?
An accountant.
Luckily for you, 'cause I heard you might be looking for one.
Uh, will you excuse me?
So, let's talk terms.
She's in.
Uh, I'm sorry, I think there's been a misunderstanding.
I have no idea what you're talking about.
No.
What you have, Ace, is a large influx of ill-gotten operating gross revenues that you're gonna have to shelter from any Title 26 tax liabilities.
Unless you want to be incredibly stupid and go to jail.
Now you're listening, huh?
I used to work with Lambert.
I did all that jackass's grunt work.
And when I say all, I mean all.
But he's gone and I'm here.
So, what's it gonna be?
Oh. I see I'm not talking to The Man, which means you're just a big waste of my time. See ya.
Uh...
Wait here.
She's a natural.
She's just being herself.
Uh-oh.
We have a problem.
What is it?
The guy from the check-cashing place.
Avis told me someone was making a play to be my new accountant.
He didn't mention it was an IRS special agent.
Walk.
I'd like to propose a toast.
May you two always be as happy as you are today.
Aw...
And while I'm at it, I'd like to propose something else, this time to the lovely lady with the lovely red hair.
Aw...
I'm not much for words.
Most things are better left unsaid.
It'd be a lot easier if I could just pick you up and we'd start running, and... we'd never stop.
Maybe I'll still do that.
But before I do...
...I just want to ask you one thing.
Yes.
I'll marry you.
Not so fast.
Let's go.
How come you didn't just sh**t him?
Ah, I figure... we've ruined enough weddings.
Yeah.
We were wrong.
Boyle wasn't the boss-- turns out he was just one of four distributors that was involved in the smuggling operation.
This is the big guy.
Gordon Fremont. He was running the entire op out of his check- cashing franchise.
Lot of cash moving in and out.
Easy for him to launder the money.
Was he the one that put the hit out on the Fornells?
It's Sterling, remember?
I changed my name before the ink dried on my divorce papers.
You never had it so good!
Okay, you were a step up from the last one, but still subpar.
Hey!
Don't make me separate you three.
Truth is, I'm proud of the way you pulled this off.
At least I didn't k*ll them.
I've had root canals that went better.
As a matter of fact, we were discussing the possibility of... making the three of you a permanent working group for inter-agency-related business.
That something you think you might be interested in?
You coming down?
No.
I was gonna sneak out, actually.
But, you know, since you caught me...
I could use a drink.
That was a sweet proposal.
I thought you said you didn't remember it.
Yeah. Well...
I thought you didn't, either.
I certainly didn't remember how sweet it was.
Uh, last time I was here, I accused you of something.
I said, um... that you never loved me, and... you didn't correct me.
But I think I was wrong.
Not that you're gonna do anything about it but stare at me right now.
Thanks for your help. You got give Victor a break.
Excuse me?
Who told you that Victor and I are having prob...
Oh, it was Chucky. He's such a dead man.
Okay, what do I have to give Victor a break for?
For being him... and not somebody else.
You got to let it go, Diane.
I couldn't... and I drove everybody away.
And... the last thing you want to be is me.
You're not so bad.
But I hear you.
Unfortunately, it might be a little too late.
No, it's not.
How do you know everything?
I don't.
I don't. I...
I just learned how to listen.
Well, what about you?
Don't you think there's somebody out there for you?
Or are you destined to spend the rest of your days alone?
I'm not alone.