01x11 - Breach

[bunniefuu]

(camera shutter clicking)

♪ ♪

(music playing within, people cheering)

(men chattering and whooping)

(men cheering and whooping)

Look at that...

(men whooping, whistling, music continuing)

You're beautiful.

Two more?

You got it.

(grunts) I want to see you.

Hey, hey, bad etiquette, Homes.

Can't be touching the dancers.

Hey, look, guys, we... we don't want any problems tonight, okay? I got no problems.

You got a problem?

All right, all right.

Settle it down or take it outside, boys.

We got a zero tolerance for trouble in here.

How about a dance?

I'm done for tonight. Sorry.

Dude, where's the beer?

The natives are getting restless.

Where you going?

I think I'm in love.

Hey!

You want to grab a coffee or something?

It's late.

Decaf?

Listen...

Look out!

I already sent the others upstairs.

Good morning, Hetty.

Well, that's a matter of perspective, Mr. Callen.

Uh, I've been doing some accounting and I came across an anomaly in your expenses.

This is a $1, 400 restaurant bill from Matsuhisa.

Mm-hmm. That's from the Miyagomi case.

You mean it's not a mistake?

You actually spent $1, 400 on raw fish?

Not me, my alias, Tony Z, did.

Ah, ah, ah.

And is Tony Z going to reimburse me?

Well, you'll have to talk to him about that.

Uh-huh.

Hetty, when I go undercover as a beach bum, I eat at the Kogi truck.

When I'm going after high rollers, I gotta hit it a little harder.

Try ordering soup, playa.

I'll tell Tony that.

You do that.

So, what are we looking at?

This footage is from a gentlemen's club in Hollywood.

That's Petty Officer Mostel Renny.

The driver of the car and P.

O. Renny were k*lled.

The woman's still in the hospital.

It's tragic, but since when do we start investigating DUIs?

Well, Renny was there last night with several other sailors.

All of whom are Crypto Language Technicians.

Basically, the Navy's top secret geek squad.

Any surveillance footage from inside the club?

No.

Oh, look, pervs don't like to be filmed.

Meow.

The driver of the car was Africa n-American, had no I. D.

Probably left his wallet at home.

The car was stolen weeks ago.

Eh, might be a coincidence.

Maybe not.

HETTY: I contacted the hospital.

The young lady is well enough for questioning.

Sam, why don't you and Kensi take the accident scene?

Crime scene.

Dom, find Renny's friends, see if they know anything.

And can I get the address for the hospital?

Hollywood Presbyterian on Vermont.

Take Sunset.

And I'll need anything you can find out about the girl.

She's Ukrainian.

Thank you.

Eric, problem?

Um... no.

Okay, we've got rubber in the street.

Yeah, no skid marks.

Which means the driver didn't even try to stop.

And that parking lot is too small.

There's no way to accelerate that fast in this distance.

So, the driver probably left the lot, turned around, accelerated back, which means...

It means Hetty's right.

It's a crime scene.

Katya Vitkoya?

Yes?

Hi. My name's Callen.

I already spoke to the police.

I'm not a cop.

I'm with the Department of Transport and Highway Safety.

Did you know Petty Officer Renny?

No.

Look, um, maybe you could come tomorrow.

I'm sorry, I'm very tired.

Really?

'Cause they told me that you, uh, you just woke up.

You're from the Ukraine?

Yes. Whereabout?

Small town, Pavlivka.

No one's ever heard of it.

I know Pavlivka.

Yeah, I spent some time in Balaklauski a few years ago.

Really? Mm-hmm.

Years ago, even locals weren't allowed to Balaklauski.

Were you supposed to be there?

I was working on a big pothole problem that they were having.

How long you been in the U. S.?

Not long.

Long enough for your visa to expire?

I'm applying for a student visa.

You're in school?

Well, I'm applying for school, too.

Oh, yeah? Which one?

Look, I'm not from Immigration.

I just want to know what happened in that bar last night.

A man in the club grabbed me.

The guy who drove the car was with him.

That sailor intervened, but the club owner and a bouncer stepped in before anything really happened.

(phone ringing)

Eric.

Still no I. D. on the driver but Forensics got a hit on a set of prints they pulled off the car window.

Uh, the guy's name is Cesar "Chi Chi" Vargas.

He's had run-ins with I. C. E.

And the DEA for smuggling everything from dr*gs to human cargo across the border.

I'm sending you his photo and arrest record now.

All right, copy Sam and Kensi.

See if they can get anyone at the bar to make a positive I. D.

And find me a last known address.

Have them meet me there.

Was this the guy that grabbed you at the bar?

No.

You're sure? Yes.

The man was older and, um...

Scruffier.

No, no, this guy was older.

And he was with the African-American guy who crashed the car.

They use a credit card?

Nah, I already checked.

Sorry.

Thanks.

Yeah. Of course.

He knows more than he's telling us.

There's an alley out back.

I'll take the front.

Hola.

Señor Vargas?

I'm going in, Sam.

Go.

Clear. Clear.

KENSI: Place is locked up.

SAM: He must've been gone for awhile.

That might be why it smells musty in here.

KENSI: If I had a place on the beach like this, I wouldn't go anywhere.

He's clearly past his expiration date.

(camera shutter clicking)

You found this guy in a fridge?

Weird.

When they said NCIS was coming with a body, I kind of expected Nate.

Well, Nate was busy, but, uh, he sends his regards.

Really?

(giggling): He's so sweet.

You know, he works so much.

I wish whoever was in charge over there would just cut the guy some slack, you know?

(clears throat)

Oh, right.

Don't ignore the corpse.

He's still in the room.

Okay, uh, looks like he's been dead for at least two weeks.

The cold temperature slowed the decomposition, but it certainly didn't stop it.

Cause of death?

Best guess at this point, suffocation following blunt force trauma.

SAM: Clean and quiet.

I'll know more once I open him up.

You two are welcome to stay and wait if you'd like.

I don't usually have an audience, but visitors are always welcome.

(drill whirring)

Pretty cool, huh?

Tempting. But we'll pass.

Okay. Did you finish with the driver from the club accident?

Oh, another weird one.

He wasn't drunk.

In fact, he didn't have any alcohol or dr*gs in his system.

Nobody calling to claim the body?

Oh, not yet.

We haven't been able to I. D. him.

Still running his prints and dental.

But this might help.

At first, I thought they were some sort of g*ng initiation.

Looks like machete wounds.

Last time I saw anything like this, I was in Rwanda.

Do you guys know if Nate is seeing anyone?

'Cause, you know, I'm just wondering.

Renny's sailor buddies didn't see anything, although one of them said Renny was hitting on the dancer, Katya.

I ran the driver's prints through Immigration's refugee database.

I got a match--

Deng Oyat.

He's not African-American.

He's African-African.

ERIC: Originally from Sudan, he was placed with a foster family in Toluca Lake three years ago.

He's one of the Lost Boys.

Second Sudanese civil w*r left two million dead and around 25, 000 young men displaced or orphaned.

They became known as the Lost Boys of the Sudan.

(phone rings)

DOMINIC: Ops, Agent Vaile.

Lucky ones managed to get into the U. S.

And other countries through humanitarian aid.

Well, maybe his foster parents know who he was with last night.

That was Hollywood Presbyterian.

Katya Vitkoya just signed herself out.

Looks like we'll paying her a house call, Dr. Hanna.

Take Kensi.

I need to check something.

Want to share?

If it pans out.

32 hours.

Excuse me?

You had 32 hours of overtime last week.

Oh, yeah, yeah.

It was a busy one.

Apparently, you've had a lot of busy ones.

You have seven weeks of unused vacation time owing.

I do?

Were you planning on, uh, sailing around the world?

No, just been busy.

You know, working...

(clattering) Uh...

Just a... a lot.

Yes, we established that back at the start of the conversation.

Hm. I don't determine the caseloads, Hetty.

No, but I do set the schedules, so start packing.

On Monday morning, you're on holiday for a week.

Where am I supposed to go?

I'm not a travel agent.

What was that about?

I've been banished.

I think something's up with Hetty.

(indistinct chatter)

SAM: Moe?

Moe? Hey, hey, hey, hey!

What the hell you think you're doing?

What you doing?

Pretty quick for an old man.

It's a joke.

Yeah, try again.

Hey.

What's up, man?

(mutters)

Come on now.

Are you kidding me?

How does a sipper afford a place like this?

Some of these strippers make six figures a year.

Oh, really?

So I've heard. (laughs)

Going on a trip?

My sister is sick. You don't have a sister.

And you should probably have stayed in the hospital.

Does the name Deng Oyat mean anything to you?

No.

He's the guy who tried to k*ll you and Petty Officer Renny last night.

I'm sorry. I really have to go now.

KENSI: I'm sorry, but you need to answer the question.

Get down!

(camera shutter clicking)

This is Nate.

He's a good listener.

Thank you.

(clears throat)

How you feeling?

Fine.

Well, that's the adrenaline pumping through your body.

And when it wears off in a little while, you're gonna start shaking.

Might even feel like you're gonna throw up, but don't worry.

It's a natural reaction.

You're, uh...

Safe here.

Who were those men at your house?

I've never seen them before.

You have any idea why anyone would want to hurt you?

No.

Any ex-boyfriend...?

No.

This is the man who almost k*lled you outside the club.

You recognize him?

He might have been with the man who grabbed me in the club last night.

But I-I can't remember.

NATE: Well, you suffered a concussion.

It's not uncommon for the events immediately preceding that sort of injury to be a little fuzzy.

You know, you should probably go back to the hospital.

No. CALLEN: Do you want us to help you, Katya?

Do you?

'Cause if we don't, you're probably going to end up dead, okay?

Right now, we're your only friends.

And maybe this-this Deng here-- maybe he wasn't trying to k*ll Petty Officer Bronson.

Maybe...

He was trying to k*ll you.

Why? I don't even know him, okay?

Or Bronson or any of them.

(door opens)

(door closes)

She's hard to read.

CALLEN: Girl's been on her own a long time.

She's used to taking care of herself.

It's a defense mechanism.

You bury your identity to protect it.

Okay.

Well, she might have seen or heard something and not even know it.

Any word on our gunmen?

No. Car had no plates, and Eric wasn't able to find the vehicle on any street or traffic cams.

Perfect.

Where the hell's Sam?

Thanks.

Hey...

Here.

Thank you.

How'd you make out Saturday on your S. A. T.'s?

710 in math.

That's nice.

It's not math I'm worried about.

400, writing.

Okay. Okay.

It's getting there.

I still remember the first time you took me to the sea.

The Gulf of Aden.

You were eight.

I'd never seen so much water.

The ocean made you feel safe.

Only makes me feel small.

What makes you feel safe?

Being around my friends.

I've already told you before that that youth center has a bad reputation for teaching radical views.

Americans have a bad reputation in some parts of the world.

In this country, if I wear baggy clothes, I'm a hip-hop gangster.

If I wear a taqiyah, I'm a t*rror1st.

At the youth center, I am just Mowadh.

You know this guy?

That's Deng. Deng Oyat.

Is he in some sort of trouble?

Trouble?

He's dead.

Crashed a stolen car into some people last night.

I just saw him last week.

Why would he do something like that?

He doesn't even have a driver's license.

He was with another man.

Older, scruffy.

Might be passing himself off as Hispanic.

You know him, don't you?

You know him?

I've seen him at the youth center, talking to Deng.

He gives religious lectures.

His name is Safar.

What kind of religious lectures?

I don't know.

I don't attend.

I keep telling you.

I only go there to play basketball.

Does Safar have a lastame?

ERIC: Jaddalah.

Born in Algeria, raised in Libya.

Safar Jaddalah's file reads like a who's who of Islamic militant groups.

He's moved around a lot, and he's suspected, along with other Al-Qaeda members, of having entered Sudan to train the Janjaweed.

"Devils on horseback with g*ns""

They've traded in their horses for SUVs and upgraded their weaponry.

So what's Safar doing in L. A.?

I doubt he's auditioning for American Idol.

Recruiting alienated and impressionable young men, just like that group of Somali teens in Minneapolis.

Takes them back, indoctrinates them, and gets them to fight his jihad.

KENSI: Well, maybe he hired Cesar Vargas to smuggle him into the country?

He probably came in over the Mexican border, passed himself off as a Mexican-American, and k*lled Vargas to tie up any loose ends.

What's a religious fundamentalist doing in a strip club?

The 9/11 hijackers did the same thing before their att*cks.

Well, last night's incident could have been a glitch in an even bigger plan, guys.

And Deng Oyat was prepared to die to protect it?

Deng Oyat did what Safar ordered him to do.

Dom, alert Homeland Security, and brief Director Vance.

All right, I'll put Safar's face out there, talk to the other agencies and local law enforcement, see if they have anything.

CALLEN: Eric, find this guy.

How well does this kid Moe know Safar?

He doesn't. He knows of him.

And how do you know the kid?

I brought him here.

From Sudan?

(sighs)

I was in Chad as part of the Pan Sahel Initiative.

We were called into Sudan to rescue some aid workers.

Moe's father was k*lled, and Moe was injured during a firefight.

I figured it was the least I could do.

Sam.

How's Katya?

(sighing): Scared, but tough.

She's clearly affected by you and Kensi saving her.

She's not accustomed to having people do anything for her.

She wants to go back to her house and get some of her things.

I told her I had to talk to you about it.

Maybe you could go over there.

(sighs)

♪ ♪

I thought you might need a few things.

You went back to my house? Yeah.

Wasn't sure what you'd want so I, uh...

I brought a little bit of everything.

Let go of me!

Sit down!

You want to run, fine!

I'll call my buddies at ICE.

I'll have you on a plane to Kiev tonight.

What do want from me?

The truth would be a good place to start.

(camera shutter clicking)

Your boss, Dallas...

All these are his?

Yes.

And for the men who were shy and insisted on lights being off-- night vision.

Blackmail.

Who?

Anyone who might have something to hide or something that Dallas wanted.

Know him?

Yes.

At the club?

Yes.

At your house?

Dallas told us he was a very special VIP.

They called him a buyer.

I don't like where this is heading.

KENSI: Dallas's girls compromise m*llitary personnel with access to classified information.

Dallas then decides to sell that information.

And Safar buys it.

Maybe to help plan a t*rror1st att*ck.

SAM: Why would Safar have someone drive a car into Dallas's club?

Somewhere along the line, the deal went sour.

We gotta get a look at Dallas's video collection.

Search warrant?

No, Safar finds out the club's been raided, he's gone.

We'll never find out what he's up to until it's too late.

Okay, so how do we get in?

Her.

♪ ♪

Hello, there.

Lookie here.

Well, well, well.

(music continues playing over computer)

WOMAN: Hey, baby... ooh...

Stand by, G, she's on her way in.

SAM: How's Dallas reacting?

CALLEN: Like his best girl just got back and he didn't expect her.

Katya said Dallas's hard drive is in a storage area off the kitchen.

Camera access?

None we could hack into.

Hey, good luck.

♪ ♪

CALLEN: Just a little bit crowded in here, you know?

Can Dallas see us?

Well...

I'm sure he's been watching us since I came over here.

All right, let's do this.

We are gonna have fun.

One for the VIP room.

Give us a good show.

All right.

Let 'em go through.

Yeah, she's coming through.

Okay.

(sultry): Mm-hmm... mm-hmm-hmm...

(chuckles)

That's my girl.

Got at least three cameras, Sam, possibly more.

We turn on the jammer, Dallas is not the only one who's gonna lose picture.

I'm gonna need about a 20-second burst to get me out the door and down the hall.

20-second burst, initiating now.

Go!

Nineteen...

Security card.

Third door down on the left.

Twelve...

(giggles)

Seven...

He needs to be down the hall now.

Six...

Five...

Four...

Two...

One...

Zero. Jammer's off.

Tell me you're in the kitchen.

G, you reading me?

We got picture, no audio.

(Callen speaks Spanish)

♪ ♪

Accessing computer now.

Where is he?

Everybody out!

Out! Got company, Sam.

Sam?

(fire alarm rings)

(alarm continues ringing)

(grunts)

Don't move! Don't move!

CALLEN: Kitchen's closed.

How's that for a lap dance? Hmm?

You got a warrant to go into my place?

FISA warrant.

Terrorism investigation.

I'm not a t*rror1st.

I'm a patriot.

Is that why you fell out with Safar?

Is that why he att*cked your club?

All good questions...

For my lawyer.

He's smug.

I hate smug.

Guy thinks he's going to walk out of here.

Is he gonna walk out of here?

It depends what's on those tapes.

DOMINIC: There. Him.

Who's he?

I think he's a senator.

Which one?

Okay, well, maybe he's a congressman.

Okay, another one for the maybe column.

What do we got?

Um... at least a dozen identified, including two senators, the CEO of an aeronautical company, a former child star and four senior m*llitary officers.

And we are only a third of the way done. Safar?

Not yet. Keep looking.

HETTY: No, Eric, you don't need to keep looking.

This investigation is over.

They're shutting us down?

All evidence, physical and electronic, is to be sent to DOD.

What about Dallas?

We're under orders to release him immediately.

(camera shutter clicking)

Hetty, we're putting together a good case here, okay?

A big one. Hetty, Safar's up to something. We can't stop now.

This is coming from on high.

When I say "on high, "

I mean those with the political venom to end the careers of each and every one of us, including Director Vance.

I can't believe this.

I know. All we need is a little more time.

I know, I know.

If I may slip into the vernacular, it sucks.

But when you hear from me again in an hour or so, you will shut this down.

Don't forget to release Mr. Dallas.

Guys, you've got to see this.

Fire it up on the big screen.

I don't think we want this up on the big screen.

So look what I found on Dallas's sleaziest home videos.

Hmm.

CALLEN: I'm guessing Safar's imam would not approve of that.

Definitely haraam.

What's that?

It's Arabic. It means "forbidden."

No, no, no-no-no. What's-what's that?

HETTY: Whatever it is, it can't be good for you.

Oh, come on, I'm in up to my knickers now.

Dallas is an extortionist.

Once he got these guys on the hook, there's no telling what information he got out of them-- technology, money, secrets.

I mean, he was a clearinghouse for confidential information.

Safar must have known this.

He went to Dallas for something specific-- weapons, intelligence... maybe both.

Well, maybe as part of their deal, Dallas offered Safar a night with one of his girls, as a sign of good faith.

Okay, it's disgusting, but perfectly probable.

So, Safar is being blackmailed like everybody else?

But why would Dallas blackmail Safar if they got a deal going?

Dallas is a criminal, but he's not a traitor.

It's not like Safar could go to the police.

He could drive a car into the club.

HETTY: Well, that's an interesting theory, but Safar is a t*rror1st, he's not Miss America.

Why would he care if anyone had a sex tape on him, despite the feculent content?

He's recruiting idealistic young men to fight a holy w*r in the name of Islam.

If a sex scandal can bring down a Democrat, what do you think that means for a devout Muslim on the road to martyrdom?

Well, couldn't he just denounce it as fake?

CALLEN: Publicly, sure.

I'm guessing if that got out, Safar's sleeping on Salman Rushdie's sofa.

So you think you can lure Safar out of hiding with this tape?

But you don't even know where to find him.

(indistinct chatter)

Hey! I need to get a message to Safar.

I know some of you listen to his teachings and know how to reach him.

A friend of mine has something he wants.

All the information he needs is right here.

All right? Just plug it in.

My friend's number's on it.

Carry on, gentlemen.

Beginning to think you weren't going to show up.

Hope you brought cash, 'cause, uh, I don't take traveler's checks.

I am not paying you or Dallas or anyone.

Is that what you came out here to tell me?

Look, you know the deal, Safar.

Either you pay me $50, 000 or your little sexcapade goes out on CNN, Al Jazeera and the Home Shopping Network.

Not if you're dead.

k*ll me, the tape still goes out.

It won't matter.

By then, you, the girl and Dallas will all be dead, and I shall be forgiven.

That's your plan?

What, are you going to sh**t me out here in broad daylight?

You won't even make it off the pier.

After I sh**t you, I'm going to sh**t that elderly man, then those children and several of those young women, before I have to reload.

By then, no one will be getting in my way.

All right, you know what? Point taken.

Let's... let's take a walk and let's talk about this in private, okay? Just leave them out of this.

The time for words is over.

KENSI: g*n!

(grunts, g*nshots)

(people screaming)

Don't move!

(grunts)

SAM: Turn over!

Get up!

I am but one in a legion of warriors.

True warriors don't use innocent kids to do their dirty work.

You are the friend of Mowadh.

The man who k*lled his father.

What? Who is using children now?

I'm not using anybody.

I gave Moe a new life.

And now, so have I.

What's that supposed to mean?

CALLEN: Sam, back off!

Sam, no! Sam!

Sam! Sam, no! Sam!

Sam! Sam!

Moe!

What's going on, man? Where are you going?

Hey! Where are you going?

I got your message to Safar.

What else do you want from me?

Listen. Hold on. Hold on. Hold up.

I'm not letting you get on that van until you tell me where you're going.

You can't stop me. Wait a minute!

Wait! Wait! Wait.

What are you going to do, huh?!

k*ll me like you k*lled my father?

Is it true?

Did you m*rder my father?

I was protecting innocent people.

Your father was working with the Janjaweed.

Everything you said to me is a lie.

No, no. Come here. No.

(sobbing) No, no, no, no, no.

I didn't... I didn't lie to you.

I didn't tell you everything because I wanted to protect you, man.

I know you're hurt, all right?

I'll tell you everything you want to know about me, about your father.

Let's just go talk about this.

The time for words is over.

Good-bye, Sam.

Moe...

So, I got a lawyer for Katya.

Still not sure how that's going to play out.

Did Sam hear anything? No.

What about the deal on Safar?

Turned him over to the CIA.

They'll try to turn him into an asset, put him to work, find out what he was planning.

They also took the blackmail material.

Do you think that will ever see the light of day?

Not publicly.

But it will be put to use.

On the street it's called "blackmail""

In government, it's "leverage""

Well, speaking of leverage, Hetty told me I had to give in my case reports every Friday by 5:00, and I was really counting on having the weekends to get caught up.

I'll talk to her.

Awesome. Thank you.

You are my hero.

Did you find Moe?

No. His foster family has no idea where he is.

Youth center's claiming ignorance.

Got a hit on Moe's passport.

He's on an Air France flight to Paris.

What time's it leave?

Left.

I'm sorry, by the time you told me to start looking, it was too late. That's all right, Eric.

Is Paris his final destination?

Um, no.

He's on a connecting flight from Charles De Gaulle to N'Djamena, Chad.

From there, he'll probably try to slide across the border into Sudan.

Why would he go back?

He's looking for answers.

Keep tracking him.

Moe's father used to work with the Janjaweed.

I k*lled him.

Does Moe know?

Now he does.

So what are you going to do about it?

Right now?

Go for a run.

Last time you said that, I had to drive out to Joshua Tree to pick you up.

I'll bring my cell phone with me.

(Hetty types, grumbles)

What's up with Hetty?

You, too?

So is this another money-saving cutback or are you, uh, writing your tel l-all Hollywood memoir?

It's a eulogy for an old friend.

I'm sorry.

This was his typewriter.

It seemed fitting, almost poetic, three hours ago.

Now, it just seems like a lachrymose act of folly.

Well, I can't help you there.

Lachrymose-intolerant.

You would have liked him.

He was the perfect combination of scholar, soldier, and scoundrel.

Was he a romantic friend?

No.

No, I'm afraid he was married...

To his job.

He worked for the intelligence service in England.

Never married, no children, but a stellar career.

He d*ed alone in his office, filling out paperwork.

Something you'll never have to worry about.

Is that why Nate's being forced into exile?

That man hasn't taken a vacation in years.

And what about you?

When was the last time you took a day off that wasn't caused by a b*llet?

I don't want you waking up one morning, wondering if it was all worth it.

I'm sorry if I was...

A tad strident today.

I just want to make sure that you all take the time to smell the roses.

How about Saturday?

There's a Rembrandt exhibit at the Norton Simon Museum.

I'll pick you up at 11:00?

Rembrandt, Mr. Callen?

Don't get too excited.

I just go there to meet chicks, so...

Essentially, you'll be my wingman.

I relish the assignment.

If only it were true.

What about tonight?

I think I'm going for a run.

(sighs)

Just tell me we're not running to Joshua Tree this time.

SAM: Nah.

(keys clanking)

HETTY: Oh, bugger!