What are we waiting for?
To see how much we're gonna charge.
Over here.
Oh, my gosh, I am so glad that you came.
Double-time.
I'm so desperate!
They're coming at 10:00. All of them.
I'm hosting the entire Mahjong league for brunch.
Toilet?
Toilet stuff everywhere. It's coming out of the bathtub, the sink...
It's probably just roots in your sewer line.
We'll have everything flowing in an hour.
How's $350 sound?
Two, even. And I'll pay the tax.
Oh, my God.
Hey, fella. Buddy, are you okay?
Fella, slow down.
Let's get you some help or something.
What are you doing?
There's nothing for you in that truck.
That's drain cleaner.
What are you doing?
Oh, my God, call 911.
Sorry, lady.
Might need two hours.
NCIS Season 10 Episode 16 Detour& Kujathemas.
$40, $60, $80, $100.
$20, $40, $60, $80, $200.
It's just a lump, on my shoulder. What's the big deal?
I'm not going to touch your lump. What's the big deal about that?
$200 even. Thank you so much. You are a lifesaver.
Shh, he's here.
What what?
What? There's no what.
It looks like a what to me... Ziva?
Jimmy gave McGee several hundred dollars in exchange for an envelope he just hid in his jacket.
Come on, how could you see that?
Jimmy, go back to Autopsy, now.
James Palmer, you take one more step and I will forward that e-mail you accidentally sent me, to the entire building.
Smart gremlin. Now talk.
It was nothing, it was nothing.
Agent McGee and I, we just...
He got me some last-minute concert tickets for my nine-month anniversary present for Breena.
Concert tickets?
Wait a minute. You have a concert ticket connection?
You're a bad liar.
Why'd you even say anything?
I didn't know you were getting tickets. They usually come in a blue envelope.
Wait a minute, you got Ziva tickets, too?
Relax, it's been a while, okay?
Last time, I think it was, like, 6 years ago?
What, no, no.
Six years ago!
Wait a second. You've been hiding a ticket connection for six years?
Who else have you gotten tickets for?
Nobody.
You got him tickets?
You and I are going to have a little talk.
You can do that in the car. Grab your snack bag.
We got a dead Navy officer.
Snack bag?
Body's in Richmond.
Two hours away.
Is there any way we can take separate cars?
Witnesses all say the same thing: our victim, Lieutenant Gordon Roth, stumbled down the street, jumped in the van, then chugged a bottle of drain cleaner.
He had to know it would be fatal.
Which would make this a simple su1c1de.
Not that simple.
Right before our victim showed up, he blew a stop sign about a mile away.
Patrol car tried to pull him over and give him...
What are those things called again?
Ticket.
Ticket, of course.
Like the kind of thing you'd need to go see a concert.
Anyway, Roth didn't pull over.
Got into a high-speed chase, ditched his car, and then, when the cops finally caught up with him, he'd offed himself.
Do you think he was injured during the chase?
I don't think so.
Why is he bleeding?
I believe that is my cue.
Sorry we're late.
M.E. van's has been refusing to go above 50 in cold weather.
I see our victim is well worth the wait.
Drain cleaner.
Lovely.
And he's been sh*t.
Judging by the severity of the ecchymosis, he would have been dead in minutes had he not k*lled himself first.
Then why k*ll himself?
So much for "simple".
His knuckles are bruised and some are broken.
He must've been in some kind of altercation before he d*ed.
I'll know more when I conduct a full autopsy.
You always do, Duck, you always do.
All right, pack it up.
Death by drain cleaner. Sounds pretty painful.
Yes, but the ingestion of such a caustic substance promises to make this a most interesting autopsy.
All right, inferior or superior process of the distal phalange, Doctor?
Inferior.
Inferior it is. Looks like you're driving.
As if.
Excuse me?
Looks "as if" you're driving.
So, I suggest we take the 288 to the toll road, and then the 95 back to D.C.
No, the forecast calls for snow.
We'd be better off avoiding traffic if we take the back roads.
They're leaving the scene, and they have the body.
Stay close. Don't lose them.
Copy that.
It's Tuesday. Who gets first dibs on the radio?
That would be me. And I think you knew that.
Perhaps I did.
Lieutenant Gordon Roth, 29,
served at the USS Carl Vinson during the Iraq w*r, then, reassigned due to hearing loss.
Where?
Office of Naval Research.
They're the guys who coordinate the science and technology programs for the Navy.
Is that what they do, McGee?
Sorry, Boss. I just thought, 'cause it was science-related...
You'd insult Gibbs' intelligence?
No.
Don't listen to him. He's just mad because I...
I don't care.
They're mostly eggheads at ONR, but Roth wasn't your ordinary egghead.
His performance tests indicate he had an extremely high IQ.
He wrote several papers on high-end m*llitary encryption.
Which, without any advanced degrees, is almost unheard of.
It's always the eggheads who cr*ck.
Get it? Egg? cr*ck?
We looked for a su1c1de note but did not find one.
Abby's going through his computer now.
Family?
None.
No brothers and sisters, and parents are deceased.
They were only children. No aunts and uncles to talk to, either.
That leaves his C.O.
DiNozzo, take...
Yes, Boss?
Take McGee with you.
Looks like you two have some things to work out.
Doctor, I do see some clouds moving in.
This drive could take a while.
What do you say we finish that crossword?
What's a nine-letter word for fungus?
Toadstool.
Amazing.
When you die, I want to dissect your brain.
I would consider it an honor and a privilege, Mr. Palmer.
However, I consider it a necessity we get this van fixed.
We're behind schedule.
Yeah, Gus in the motor pool says it's the fuel injector.
Said he's changed it three times already.
Well, perhaps we should change Gus.
Think it's time we change the station.
It's my turn again, and no offense, but I'm getting a headache.
If it's your turn, it's your turn.
Much better.
That sounded like a blowout. That's weird. I just changed the tire.
It looks as if you're gonna have to change one of them again.
I've got a cousin that works for a concert promoter.
He helps me get tickets.
It's not a big deal.
Then why didn't I know about it?
You know why.
If I knew why I didn't know, then I would know what I didn't know.
You're a bad man.
I didn't tell you because you would take advantage of it.
You saying I'm a bad man?
Should I come back later?
Commander Lisa Cleveland.
But please... don't let me interrupt.
Are you sure there hasn't been some kind of mistake?
Yes, ma'am.
Lieutenant Roth k*lled himself this morning.
That's quite a shock.
You have any idea why?
That's why we wanted to talk to you.
I don't know what I can offer, except that Roth was the epitome of stability.
Was he close with anyone in the office?
Not really. Kept mostly to himself.
Any enemies?
No.
Is there something else you aren't telling me?
Lieutenant Roth was beaten and sh*t just prior to his su1c1de.
Quite a detail to leave out, don't you think?
Depends.
On?
On whether or not you're involved.
We know it's personal, but we'd ask.
Are you involved?
No, I'm not.
But I wish you had said something sooner.
Lieutenant Roth oversaw the implementation of the Navy's datakey encryption protocols.
I see.
What does that mean?
Means he spent a lot of time around highly classified materials.
The kind people might k*ll for?
Almost done.
Any luck?
No, which is odd.
I expected to find the entire sidewall blown out, given the expl*sive decompression we just experienced.
My stomach is experiencing expl*sive decompression.
I'm hungry.
What do you say we break out these emergency supplies?
Yeah, we did skip breakfast.
Wait a minute. What have we here?
Something embedded...
Is that a...
Yeah, appears to be a b*llet fragment.
I apologize for that.
I told my men to slow you down.
I was stuck in traffic on the toll road.
May-may we help you?
Maybe. If either of them move...
It's not here.
You didn't think it would be.
So Plan B it is.
May I ask who you are?
And what exactly is Plan B?
Plan B is "drive".
What kind of classified material was Roth working on?
We're not sure yet. We're getting a little push-back on access.
Push harder.
Duck, talk to me.
Inside.
You know, over 15, 000 people are injured in g*n accidents every year.
Now, since we are miles from, from anything, would you mind pointing that someplace else?
Sure.
My bad.
Get inside.
Sorry about the mess.
I'm sure you'll be more cooperative than our last visitors.
Lock them up.
I've had enough for one day.
I demand to know who you are and what this is about.
If you want my men to put the g*ns down, you'll let them put those on.
Or we can wait for one of those accidents to happen.
I vote for the leg irons.
What happened to Lieutenant Roth?
He allegedly k*lled himself.
With a drain cleaner.
And before that?
He looked b*at up. Was he in a fight?
Well, I can't say with any certainty.
I was kidnapped before I could conduct my autopsy.
Did he have anything on him when you found him?
No, not that I am aware.
He wouldn't have had it with him. Not if he had decided to k*ll himself.
Go back and search the area.
Lincoln, bring the body in.
You can conduct your autopsy, here.
I beg your pardon.
A dead body can still speak.
So I've noticed.
I need to find out what happened to Lieutenant Roth.
And you are my best sh*t.
And if I refuse?
Take a guess.
Good luck with your autopsy if you k*ll me.
I won't k*ll you.
I'll k*ll your friend.
Slowly.
I vote for the autopsy.
Agreed.
We're gonna need some things from the van.
Anything I find won't be useful to anybody if we all die from airborne corpse pathogens.
A dead body can be deadly.
You heard anything from...
The police?
That impounded Lieutenant's car after the high-speed chase? Yep.
That's not what I was asking.
You should be, because they dropped it off an hour ago, and I found much goodness inside.
No, I was hoping...
That I was going to say that?
When would I ever let you down? And I'm certainly not going to now.
I have got prints to run, I've got blood swabs, and I have the cherry on top of my forensic banana split.
This stylish, yet compact, digital camera.
I know. Get to the point.
The point is that this stylish and compact digital camera is GPS-enabled, which means I know where Roth was before he k*lled himself and what he was doing.
Where was he?
He was in a park about two miles away from the crime scene, walking around in circles and taking pictures of everybody and everything, for over half an hour.
And when I say circles, I mean circles.
This is a connect-the-dot map of all the GPS coordinates from every photograph that Roth took.
I'm assuming this isn't some kind of obsessive-compulsive, circle-walking, picture-taking illness, although that's more Ducky's territory.
You heard from Ducky?
No. Where is he?
He's got my hair samples and my fingernail samples.
I'm gonna call him.
Sorry I missed you. Please leave a message after the tone.
That's odd. He never turns his cell off.
I'm gonna call Jimmy.
Jimmy's cell phone.
He's not around to pick me up right now, please leave a message.
Odd, the sequel.
Permission to track their phones?
When they're turned off?
I wouldn't be able to track Ducky's model of phone, but as long as Jimmy's battery hasn't been removed, even if it's dead, I can still get a trickle charge that'll power up the...
His battery's been removed.
According to this error code.
Why would Jimmy do that?
He wouldn't.
We spoke to Gus in the motor pool.
Jimmy called about an hour and a half after we left the crime scene.
Said he had a flat tire.
Gus told Jimmy it'd take a few hours to get out there, so Jimmy said he'd fix it himself.
Running a trace on the call.
What are you thinking?
I want to know where they are.
The roads were icy, maybe an accident.
It would have had to be bad enough to destroy his cell.
Got a hit.
They were on Veterans Memorial Highway, west of Foxhall.
They were heading north before they made the call.
There's emergency cameras on VMH.
Pull it up.
Backtracking from the time of the call.
There they are.
Jumping to the next camera.
And jumping to the next camera.
Freeze it.
Back up the first two cameras.
That black SUV's in every photo.
There are a lot of exits on that stretch could be a coincidence.
Jimmy said the van didn't go over 50. Speed limit's 60.
They were being followed.
McGee, Ziva, BOLO.
They pulled over somewhere. Find out where.
On our way.
The Lieutenant?
Find out what he was into.
Right now we don't have a clue.
If you would be so kind, Mr. Palmer.
But be careful.
The sodium hydroxide in the drain cleaner is still rather potent.
You weren't kidding.
The esophagus looks like it's melted.
What do you got?
A mess.
Contrary to popular belief, drain cleaner does not function as a poison.
It kills by asphyxiation, and that is a result of a rather drastic reaction between sodium hydroxide and...
And I couldn't care less.
You wouldn't be the first.
Apart from a removable hearing aid, which I can find no physiological need for, our victim was in good health.
He was in some kind of altercation just prior to his su1c1de.
Aside from being sh*t, he has his knuckles scraped, three broken digits, and he took several blows to the rib cage.
I can pull back the skin, if you...
Enough.
You know what I want to hear, so let's hear it.
Well, the angle of the damage to the thoracic area indicates that you're looking for a male, roughly six foot tall.
Here, skin cells from under this man's nails suggests a Caucasian, and a follicle which we found lets us know that there are at least some dark hair.
Undoubtedly, I will learn more as we continue the autopsy.
For example, the contents of the stomach... will tell us...
I got it.
Now just finish up.
Keep an eye on them.
You mind if I do it from outside?
Fine. They're not going anywhere.
You did that on purpose.
Yes. We have to talk.
About?
About what we're gonna do.
They're gonna k*ll us when we're done.
I know. I've been trying not to think about it, and...
What can we do?
We go on the offensive.
On the offen... with what?
Duck, we are chained to the floor. They have g*ns.
We don't have much in the weapons department.
We have something better than a w*apon, Mr. Palmer.
We have him.
You find the M.E. van?
And no sign of them, either.
But we do know where they stopped.
We found a flat tire on the shoulder of the highway.
It was not a blowout, Gibbs. The tire was sh*t out.
There was a second vehicle there, definitely.
We lifted tracks and at least four sets of footprints.
Abby's processing them now. But the footprints indicate that somebody else joined Ducky and Jimmy in the M.E. van.
They were likely forced to drive under duress.
Any luck with the rest of the traffic cam footage?
They knew how to stay away from the camera.
But not the investigative prowess of very special Agent Anthony DiNozzo.
Light me up, lord of the tickets.
It's story time.
Lieutenant Roth had an offshore bank account, a big one.
Filled up primarily by... wait for it...
Cuban sources.
As a Navy officer, that's a violation of at least seven laws.
Yes, it is, McGee, but how do we know he's a Navy officer?
I pulled every record I could find on Roth, from his m*llitary files to his high school library card. That's his high school library card.
The signatures don't match.
It's close, but no Cuban cigar. See, look at the R's.
Sometime, in Roth's early 20s, his signature changed, there's only one reason I can think of why that would happen.
Lieutenant Roth isn't Lieutenant Roth.
So then, who is he?
Careful, Mr. Palmer.
Gastric acid can cut a hole right through your foot.
Hopefully, just the lock.
I've finished connecting the hearing aid's microphone, and I've almost done the earpiece.
Got it.
Testing, one, two, three.
Crystal clear.
Slice open the ileocecal junction.
We don't want anyone walking in here.
Can you hear them?
They're complaining about the smell.
Speaking of smell...
About your idea for the methane capture.
I found an old cigarette that we could use...
They're talking about Lieutenant Roth.
He was supposed to deliver a package to our captors.
They think whoever sh*t him may have it.
I wonder what was in that.
Wonder if Agent Gibbs has realized that we're even missing yet.
Not that it matters. I mean, he is never going to find us.
If you can be certain of one thing, it is that Agent Gibbs...
What? Agent Gibbs what?!
They're talking about us.
If it's bad, just don't tell me.
Okay, changed my mind.
Our captor is telling her associates to bury Lieutenant Roth when we're finished with the autopsy.
That's not so bad.
But, apparently, we are to join him.
That is bad.
If we're going to make a move, it better be soon.
I used facial-recognition software to compare old pictures of Lieutenant Roth with his most recent service photos.
Definitely not the same guy.
Could have fooled me.
Yeah, he fooled everybody.
And now Ducky and Jimmy are missing.
But you're going to find them, right?
Yeah, we're going to find them.
No I.D. out on who's impersonating Roth.
But by analyzing every photo I could find, I was able to narrow down the date of the switch.
The person that showed up at the Naval Academy on Induction Day... He was the impostor.
The person who showed up to the Candidate Guidance Office for final interview two weeks earlier... that was the original.
The impostor made the switch some time in between.
Roth's induction was ten years ago.
I finished examining fake Roth's computer.
He's been using his C.O.'s access codes to download some seriously classified material, once a month, like clockwork, for years.
So you add a giant piggy bank filled with Cuban cash...
We got a mole. Deep cover.
He found a guy who looked just like him, who was getting ready to join the Navy, but he waited until that guy passed all his Navy background checks.
Then took his place.
He's a loner with no family.
Who's gonna notice?
We did.
Do you think that real Roth is dead?
He's dead as a doornail.
What I want to know is, who sh*t the impostor this morning?
We find him, we find Ducky.
What?
I found him...
I think. I found a second person's blood at the crime scene.
He was former Navy. I got an I.D.
Lieutenant Michael Dunkel.
Remember where you need to be.
Yes, Doctor.
Good. Your life will depend upon it.
I estimate we have less than two minutes to showtime.
Doctor, Doctor...
In case your plan, as brilliant as it is, doesn't work...
Likewise, Mister...
Shall we?
I pulled that b*llet from Lieutenant Roth's pelvic bone.
The angle of entry suggests that the wound was self-inflicted.
He sh*t himself?
I doubt on purpose.
I usually see wounds like this when the victim is struggling to control his w*apon.
Lieutenant Roth's attacker was probably trying to disarm him.
Which, by itself, may not mean much, but if you could recover Roth's g*n...
We found it when we searched the area.
His attacker's prints may be on this.
Perhaps he has whatever it is you're looking for.
See? Told you keeping them alive was worth it.
Even the whiner.
Does that mean we can k*ll them and get out of here?
I haven't eaten anything since yesterday.
They're all yours.
Did-did you really think that we were going to tell you everything without leaving ourselves some insurance?
We did find something else.
Which makes identifying the attacker moot, assuming that his prints are even on record.
What?
Take us somewhere public, and I'll tell you.
Or I could just sh**t your little friend in the face.
Then you'd better sh**t me, as well.
Could you be more obvious?
Sorry.
Where did you get this?
Where?
Lieutenant Roth swallowed it!
It's a locker key from a bus stop or a gym, maybe.
It's got to be pretty important, too, especially because...
Talk.
We found... the key lodged in the small intestine, which was spewing decomposition gases, much like like if you were to seal a piece of intestine inside of a surgical glove.
It would slowly begin to inflate with methane, like a balloon.
And now, methane is highly flammable, but if you combine it with an oxidizer, like the sodium hydroxide found in the drain cleaner in the victim's lungs, then suddenly, it's expl*sive.
If we add to that a heat source...
You're stalling.
Yes, he is.
The cigarette is taking longer than we thought to ignite the gauze in the oven.
Marcus?
Oh, my God!
Okay, put him out!
Put him out!
He's dead.
They're gone.
Yeah, that's a...
This can't be my blood.
And I'm sorry. I don't recognize this man.
Maybe that black eye's affecting your vision.
How about that?
Oh, my God, what happened?
You tell me.
Make it quick.
I did tell you. I don't know him.
We got your DNA at the crime scene.
He had your blood on him. You know what else he had?
A bank account funded by the Cubans.
I don't know anything about that.
A PC full of classified material.
Just wait. Wait a second.
You're going down, and you're going down hard for treason, unless you start talking!
Treason?
Look, I've got two guys missing!
I don't have time for this! I want answers!
Now! Right now!
Going once, going...
The answer is he was sleeping with my wife!
What?
My wife, Lieutenant Roth was sleeping with her.
Commander Lisa Cleveland.
Your name is Dunkel.
She wouldn't take my name. Who does that?
Everybody these days, that's who. No one cares about tradition.
She certainly didn't care about our marriage vows.
Geez.
All right, let me hear it. Make it quick.
I found out Roth was sleeping with Lisa, so I went to confront him.
It got physical.
I didn't want it to, but he started it. Then he pulled a g*n.
I grabbed for it, and we struggled, and the g*n went off.
I got out of there as fast as I could, and I didn't look back.
Look, I didn't do anything wrong, okay?
He att*cked me.
I'm the victim. The only thing I know about this guy is... we had the same taste in women.
I don't know anything about any classified material, or your missing men. I'm sorry about that, but I don't.
Doctor...
Doctor, wait! Wait!
I need a moment to catch my breath.
We don't have a moment, Mr. Palmer.
Have you been hitting the gym?
Cardio-rehab. We can talk about that later.
Listen, our captors undoubtedly know that we are heading for the highway.
Perhaps, with this moonlight, we might be better off with stealth instead of speed.
That works for me.
Lieutenant Roth's C.O. confirm the affair?
Actually, she denied it until I told her Roth was only sleeping with her to get her access codes.
We tracked down a new witness who saw Roth and the husband fight.
Hubby was telling the truth.
Kind of hoping he was lying.
Mr. Dunkel, however, chose a really bad time to confront his wife's lover.
Those pictures that Roth took in the park...
He appears to be surveilling an area in advance of some kind of meeting. As he is a spy, probably with his handlers.
Wanted to make sure he wasn't followed by the authorities.
Except he was being followed by a jealous husband.
When the police got involved, he had to terminate the op.
k*ll himself.
He was already dying.
Had he allowed himself to be captured, it was only a matter of time before he gave up his entire operation.
He was protecting his team.
Roth's handlers must be the ones who took the body.
So Ducky and Jimmy, too.
Okay, what do we got here?
Tire tracks on the road where the M.E. van was stopped.
BOLO on the SUV that was tailing it.
And footprints as well. Hopefully Abby has made some progress analyzing them.
Go. Find out. McGee, go.
What was that?
Presumably our captors.
Looking for us, sh**ting at anything that moves.
In case we get k*lled before I can say it, your plan worked brilliantly, Doctor.
Despite the fact that you started telling our captors the plan.
You told me that my job was to stall them until the combustion started, so I say the first thing that came to mind, which was, surprise, surprise, the ticking b*mb six feet away.
But if we're gonna survive, we are going to need a new plan.
You told me that Gibbs would find the cabin.
Undoubtedly. And we can assume that he's gonna find the message that we left, but we can't assume that he's gonna find it in time.
Well, then it's a good thing that I grabbed this.
One of them dropped it in the blast.
I would rather take a stand than get sh*t in the back.
Likewise. Only I'm... not too keen to get in a firefight with professional K*llers.
Neither am I.
All right. Come on.
Boss, I got a lead on the SUV, a ranger at Shenandoah National Forest logged a vehicle matching our description entering the park for two weeks.
The occupants registered to use a hunting cabin.
Ranger remembered 'cause they asked for the most isolated cabin they had.
Running the plates, Boss.
But, Boss, I usually...
Okay, that's fine.
SUV's registered to a shell company out of Richmond...
It uses the same bank that funded Roth's offshore account.
Haven't heard anything in a while. Maybe they left.
More likely, they also opted for stealth.
Means they could be anywhere.
Oh, my God.
What?
I realized I missed my 9 month wedding anniversary. Breena is gonna k*ll me.
You do know I have a heart condition.
What? I'm so sorry...
I understand, Mr. Palmer.
Nothing is more important than the ones we love, felt most keenly at times like this. In fact...
Are you all right?
Yes, I'm all right.
Not the ankle. It's always the ankle.
Yes, it's always the ankle.
23, 000 people sprain their ankles every day without walking in the forest in the pitch dark.
Okay. It's okay.
It's fine. I will carry you.
Now, Mr. Palmer, even if I could stomach the ignominy, you wouldn't get very far.
You have to go on without me.
I'm not leaving you.
You're not leaving me. We're just splitting up.
I respect you more than anyone in the world. So please forgive me when I say:
"Go to hell". I'm not leaving you.
If we both stay, we may both go to hell.
Not necessarily. I think it's time we made our stand.
Right.
How many rangers?
Straight down this road another thousand feet.
Wake them up.
I need blockades on every road.
Don't care what time it is.
Reports every ten minutes.
What's the plan?
We sit here and wait for them to find us.
We don't have time to strategize any more than that.
Give me the g*n.
Fine by me.
Wait. Why?
Because I have m*llitary firearms training.
With a musket.
Doctor, that was 50 years ago.
It's better than your none.
I will have you know, I have prestiged six times in Black Ops 2.
Do I even want to know?
Doctor, it's not like I want the g*n, okay?
It's just it's very dark out and... your eyesight is not what it used to be.
I beg your pardon.
Knew it wasn't gonna land well.
You keep that up, and I may have to ask you to leave again.
Actually, Doctor... maybe that's what I should do.
Hands in the air!
Clear.
I think it's safe to assume Ducky and Jimmy were here.
And did some damage.
But where are they now?
Come on, Ducky, talk to me.
Right here.
"R9"?
Rule Nine.
"Never go anywhere without a Kn*fe."
Not anywhere.
Right there.
That way.
Come on! Let's go.
Where are you?
I'm sorry I questioned your ability with firearms.
Prestiging six times with Black Ops 2 is ample experience.
Six times... isn't bad.
But I prestiged seven.
Oh, my God.
Call your buddy.
I don't know if you've noticed, but I have been calling him.
He isn't answering.
Maybe he'll answer when he hears you screaming.
You shouldn't have k*lled Marcus.
Good-bye, Doctor.
You can stop sh**ting, Mr. Palmer.
Oh, my God, I got him!
I got him.
What?
I thought I'd feel relieved, but... this feels much, much worse.
I've never...
I've never...
You still haven't...
Run, Mr. Palmer, while you can!
No, no. I'm not leaving you.
Doctor, I thought I got him.
Fine by me.
I should've given you the g*n.
NCIS! Hands up!
Don't move!
Hold on, hold on.
This feels very, very good.
Drop it!
You two okay?
We've been cleaner.
Nice to see you guys. What did we miss?
I'd rather not talk about it right now.
I'll probably start crying again.
Jethro, there's another one, a woman.
You'll never find her.
Really?
Wouldn't be so sure about that.
Looking for this?
It's the USB drive your mole wedged in the sewer drain.
Our agents pulled it out this morning.
Did we forget to mention that we found sewage beneath Lieutenant Roth's fingernails?
Sorry about that.
You're under arrest. Hands behind your back.
But how?
That's my locker.
And this... this is my key.
I'll be taking that. Thank you.
You've been played.