03x12 - The Watchers

[bunniefuu]

(jazz fusion playing on radio)

(sighs)

You're not changing that.

How can you listen to this?

Why can't you appreciate a little improvisational jazz?

Why can't they all learn to play the same song?

It's called fusion.

Yeah, confusion.

(phone chirping)

That's the Agent Needs Assistance Alert.

It's Hetty.

(engine starts)

You just gonna run out of here?

I'm sorry.

I'm on call.

I thought you said you were a dental hygienist.

I am.

It's a dental emergency.

Oh... huh.

It's, it's just, uh, teeth missing, tons of blood.

I will call you.

(door opens)

(door closes)

Is this a legit alert?

Sounds like it.

Ah.

Sorry.

You, uh, you missed a button.

Oh, well, you heard the guy.

He was this close from giving up his partner.

I had him eating out of my hand.

How was that?

Just drive.

Uh-huh.

What do we know, Eric?

Hetty activated her phone's distress code.

I tried to reach her in case it was a false alarm, but she's not answering any of her numbers.

NELL: I want feeds from every traffic and surveillance cam in a half-mile radius for the past three hours.

What about the teleconference camera or her cell phone?

Teleconference has been unplugged.

This is her cell phone.

We're blind.

♪ NCIS: LA 3x12 ♪

The Watchers
Original air date on January 3, 2012

ERIC: Hetty had a radiant heat grid wired into the walls and ceiling of the boatshed, so thermal imaging is useless.

We know her phone's inside, we just don't know if she is.

I walked the perimeter; I don't see any signs that the place is booby-trapped.

How we doing on a visual, Kensi?

KENSI: You should be seeing something right about...

Now.

All right, we got her.

Anyone else?

Let me see.

We got a bogey under the stairs.

(door opens)

Hetty?

You okay?

Peachy.

Care to tell me what this is all about?

Ask him.

Special Agent G. Callen.

Who are you?

The direct approach.

You know, that's an interesting tactic unless, of course, you walk directly into a trap.

Is that what this is?

Could be.

I know you.

Not nearly as well as I know you.

You know them, too?

That's great, you brought your entire team with you.

Unfortunately, it makes it so much easier to blow you all up.

You twitch.

I sh**t.

Is that a catch phrase?

Who are you?

Owen Granger.

I'm your new assistant director.

I told him this was a bad idea.

But he's the boss.

What the hell was all this about?

I wanted to see this team in action.

You almost saw this team k*ll you.

That would have been awkward.

We were in the middle of an operation that could now be blown.

I was listening in.

If anything, I probably saved Blye from having to fake more than her identity.

(scoffs)

I'm sure he means a headache.

So, Operations Center briefing in 20 minutes.

I'll answer all your questions and concerns.

KENSI: It's almost 4:00 in the morning.

I must still be on East Coast time.

In that case, make it 30.

Give you a chance to grab some coffee.

I'm gonna take a nonfat latte with an extra sh*t.

You think it's too late to get my old job back?

We operate in an era in which we are faced with a multitude of enemies, both at home and abroad.

Enemies with ever increasing capabilities in terms of weaponry, tactics, and their ability to network.

Are you wearing pajamas?

I, uh, rushed in here last night, thinking it was a real emergency.

Haven't had time to go home.

Are those badgers?

Polar bears.

Deadliest animal in the Arctic.

GRANGER: Jones.

Eight days ago, Brent Bolton d*ed in a local parking garage from what was reported to be a self-inflicted g*nsh*t wound.

Unfortunately, there was no surveillance video.

The g*n that k*lled him was registered to his wife Mia.

It was purchased 16 days before the sh**ting.

Now, both Bolton and his wife...

We're in the middle of several ongoing investigations.

I'm aware of your open files, but right now, this is a priority.

Both Brent Bolton and his wife, Mia, are employed by Brindell Research, an independent think t*nk that works closely with the Department of Defense on everything from economic policy to weapons development.

And what makes this anything more than a domestic dispute?

Mia Bolton reported that she thought she was being watched.

Well, maybe she just said that to set up an alibi.

I hope it's that simple.

Access to their research is worth billions, and even more to their enemies.

I need you to determine who k*lled Brent Bolton, and what, if any, information has been compromised.

I've already made arrangements for Miss Jones to be brought into Brindell Research as an interim replacement for Brent Bolton.

Nell is an intelligence analyst, not an agent.

If someone is going undercover, it should be one of us.

It's a think t*nk, Agent Callen, not a cartel.

Miss Jones has the training, and besides having an IQ that's higher than your combined credit scores, Miss Jones was actively recruited by Brindell Research, along with several other think tanks, before winding up here.

It's what we call a "no-brainer."

Keep me updated.

Agent Blye, I'd like to speak to you about your recent trips to Hawaii when you get a chance.

(phone ringing nearby)

CALLEN: "Double, double, toil and trouble."

So, what, you're just going to let this guy take over?

What'd she say?

Nothing.

Literally.

Okay, so maybe we should talk to Director Vance.

SAM: And say what?

He obviously approved it.

Hell, it was probably his idea.

Yeah, Sam's right.

Whatever this is, it's playing out above our pay grades.

We go along with it for the time being.

You and Deeks check out Mia Bolton.

We'll work Brindell Research with Nell.

ERIC: So, you're going undercover.

Guess so.

Cool, cool.

Yeah, I never knew you'd been recruited by a bunch of think tanks.

Oh, no?

Uh, no. You, uh, never mentioned it.

Hm.

Well...

Which is, I don't know, kind of weird because, you know, you think it would be something that would have come up.

Well, I guess there are a lot of things you don't know about me.

Like what?

Let's just focus on the task at hand.

Right.

You know, just out of curiosity's sake, um, what-what is your IQ?

Ah... hm.

Oh. Not telling me that either?

What can I say, woman of mystery.

Oh, yeah?

Well, I got mysteries, too.

Hm.

Come on, what's the big deal?

I'll show you mine if you show me yours.

Here's the paperwork you'll need for Brindell Research.

Thank you.

I was talking... We were...

We were talking about IQ scores.

You know, I'm gonna head up to OPS now, and, uh, coordinate that surveillance feed.

Maybe you could swing by Wardrobe on your way and have them fit you with some big boy pants.

CALLEN: Hetty said Vance had been threatening to put her on a shorter leash.

This is more like a cage.

Hetty doesn't do well in captivity.

You think this is somebody's way of trying to squeeze her out?

You don't have a career like Hetty's without making a few enemies.

She has managed to avoid a lot of the back-stabbing by staying out of Washington.

Maybe that's why they sent Granger.

Guy reeks of being the kind of bureaucratic assassin

(phone ringing) that can k*ll your career with an e-mail.

ERIC: Yo.

How we doing, Eric?

ERIC: Nell's been signed in as Brent Bolton's replacement.

She's through to security, and is just heading for Brent Bolton's office.

I'll let you know if she finds anything.

Good.

(beeps, buzzes, door unlocks)

(sighs)

(device chirping)

(sighs)

All right, Eric, can you hear me?

Loud and clear.

(device chirping)

Everything seems...

Pretty normal.

No listening devices or cameras.

(knock at door)

sh**t. Someone's at the door.

(chirping stops)

Hi.

Hi.

I don't mean to bother you.

I just saw you come in, so I just wanted to say hello and welcome.

Hello and... thank you.

(laughs)

Come on in.

Thanks.

Sure. Uh...

So, you are...?

I'm JT.

Everybody calls me Thruster.

Great.

That was...

That was my call sign.

I was a fighter pilot until I had to punch out over Fallujah.

You know, detached my retina.

(hissing through teeth)

Now I'm flying a desk.

Oh, brother.

So, you're replacing Brent?

Is it true he d*ed?

Yeah. They say he sh*t himself.

So, su1c1de?

Well, spouse-icide is more likely, you know.

He and his wife, Mia, both worked here.

They fought so much, they were never allowed on the same projects.

Really?

Yeah.

ERIC: What a gossip.

His call sign should have been "Yenta."

This is for you.

For me?

This should, uh, should help you get up to speed on all our current projects.

All rightie.

Well... thanks.

(laughs)

ERIC: And...

His fly is open.

(awkward laugh)

(clears throat)

Yeah.

What are you, eight?

(computer chirping)

(sighs)

So, Assistant Director Granger, you moving to the West Coast permanently?

They don't let you out much, do they, Beale?

Why do you say that?

Lucky guess.

That and you kind of remind me of one of those Twilight kids.

(paper shuffling)

So, uh, why's the new guy want to talk about your Hawaii trips?

I don't know.

Hmm.

When I was there, I spoke to a few Marines who knew my father.

Spoke to them about what?

About his death and the day he d*ed.

I didn't hear anything I hadn't already heard.

Well, apparently, someone didn't appreciate the questions.

(door in house opening)

Oh, and who do we have here meeting our m*rder victim's wife?

(camera shutter clicking)

Could be her lawyer.

(camera shutter clicking)

KENSI: Oh.

Huh.

Wow. And if so, apparently, the, uh, lawyer-client privileges include benefits.

(crowd chatter, birds singing)

Here you go.

Thanks.

You got it.

SAM: Right.

Okay. (sighs)

Kensi and Deeks spotted some guy at Mia Bolton's house.

They're taking him to the boatshed for questioning.

Thanks.

Coffee cart gives you a free latte on your birthday.

Happy birthday, OLeg.

I look like an OLeg?

More than I look like a Fareed.

It's a nice park.

You know, if somebody was shadowing Mia Bolton, pretty good place to do it from.

You can see her come and go to work.

Yup. And they got free City Wi-Fi.

How convenient.

Brindell Research employees get tired of being cooped up.

They come outside to grab a coffee, soak up a little sun.

Fire off a couple e-mails.

They know they're supposed to be encrypted, but even if they are, they're still vulnerable, flying around along with their cell phone calls.

Finish their latte.

They throw the empty cup in the recycling bin.

(camera snapping)

Coffee cup has their name on it, along with their fingerprints, which makes it easy to match up with the business cards in the jar trying to win the free muffin.

He even knows your birthday.

And that's just one guy.

(wry chuckle)

Then you got Bobby Fisher over here.

SAM: How many think t*nk employees have taken up that challenge at lunch?

Sweet old guy that prods them with small talk, (camera clicks)

gathers seemingly trivial personal information.

Let's not forget about future soccer Mom.

(camera clicks)

Babies are a magnet.

Before you know it, she knows the name and ages of your kids, what school they go to and where they take karate.

Of course you'd have to be paranoid to think like that.

Well, paranoid or vigilant.

And that's just low-tech human intelligence gathering.

Now, if you really wanted to spy on Brindell Research, you would have to set up somewhere close by so you could use a laser mic or an EMR detector.

(camera snapping)

But it is good coffee.

Damn good.

Witnesses said that you and your husband fought... a lot.

We both had strong opinions.

Why'd you buy a g*n?

I... I thought someone had been following me.

Did you tell the police that?

No.

But I told Brent and some of my co-workers.

Did they believe you?

Brent didn't.

That's why he took my g*n.

I thought we were being followed.

He got so angry with me that he said he was going to get rid of it.

But you never saw anyone?

No.

Brent left the car, and I waited.

After I heard the g*n fire, I ran out to see what had happened.

I thought maybe it discharged when he threw it away.

But I found him...

Lying in the stairwell...

In a pool of blood.

The g*n was beside him.

And you still never saw anybody?

No.

I loved Brent, and I would never do anything to hurt him.

He wasn't just my husband.

He was my... colleague...

And...

My best friend.

Do you know what it's like to lose the one person you love more than anything or anyone in the world, and you don't even know who did it or... why?

Maybe we should, uh...

We should take a break.

Yeah, Kens?

Yes.

(seagulls calling, bell clanging)

KENSI: Give you some water?

What's up with Kensi?

CALLEN: I don't know.

Maybe it has something to do with those trips to Hawaii that Granger wants to talk to her about.

(computer chimes)

What is it, Eric?

Hey, I just wanted to give you a heads-up about Assistant Director Granger.

What about him?

Uh, he's on his way to the boatshed.

And there he is now.

Okay. Good-bye.

(computer chimes)

You guys keeping track of me?

It's what we do.

How's this coming?

They're taking a break.

You know, it's a funny thing about interrogation.

Some people think it's a skill that can be taught like anything else.

But the best have a God-given gift that goes way beyond knowing if somebody's telling the truth.

It's like being able to look into a person's soul and know their deepest secrets and darkest fears.

Now, that sounds like a catch phrase.

No, I... I think I've seen this movie before.

Look... I'm not here to make friends, but I'm also not here to become your enemy.

You need me, and I need someone to lead this unit into the next millennia.

We already have an operations manager.

You're here for Hetty.

I'm here for a lot of things.

Conventional wisdom is great when you're fighting a conventional enemy, but that's not the case anymore.

SAM: Hetty has more skill, wisdom than any of us could hope for.

You know, your loyalty would be admirable if it weren't so operationally unsound.

If I'd been a real enemy, I could have k*lled the lot of you last night because of that blind loyalty.

CALLEN: Had you been a real enemy, Hetty would have had your head on a stick before we got here.

Yeah.

I'm well aware of the urban legend that is Henrietta Lange.

Folklore is best suited for the history books.

Like it or not, the old guard is changing, gentlemen.

Now, one of you can rise up and assume that challenge, or I'll find someone else who can.

Your choice.

How does this guy fit into your life?

That's Roger...

McAdams.

He's just a friend.

Roger's in insurance.

He's an actuary.

Did your husband have a life insurance policy with Roger?

No. They didn't even know each other.

I met Roger in my writing class.

I needed a creative escape, so I'm writing a novel.

Oh, that's fantastic.

About what?

It's a love story between a noble woman and a young artist set in Vienna during the Black Death.

Nothing says romance like the plague.

And Roger?

What's his novel about?

He's writing a spy thriller.

She looks like she hasn't moved since we left.

She hasn't.

Maybe she ran out of batteries.

You find something?

ERIC: Roger McAdams really is an actuary from an El Segundo insurance company.

The only problem is, he looks like this.

As you can see, he is clearly not the man from Mia Bolton's house.

So, who is this guy?

We don't know yet.

Facial rec hasn't found a match.

I was, however, able to identify your friends from the park.

Your coffee vendor is Ari Peretz.

He's a former Israeli national who became an American citizen in 2007, after a career in Jerusalem's Moustarabine.

It means "those who pretend to be Arabs".

They're a no-joke undercover army unit.

Ooh, it gets better.

Meet Faton Hoxha.

He's a former Albanian chess master, rumored to have worked for the KGB before the Iron Curtain came crashing down.

Like many, he has denied it ever since.

What about, uh, soccer mom?

Oh, she checks out.

She's actually just a soccer mom.

But two out of three people in this park have intelligence experience from two different countries.

That suggests they're working for a private employer.

Maybe they're helping Mia Bolton's mystery man with his spy novel.

You think Mia'd be up to helping us get this guy?

Can't hurt to ask.

What if there are two Roger McAdams?

I wish there were, Mia.

(exhales)

He was my friend.

No, no, he was just pretending to be.

You don't have to do this.

I want to...

For Brent.

MIA (via wire): Hi.

Sorry to call you in the middle of the day like this.

ROGER: No, no, don't worry, it's fine.

What's, uh, what's wrong?

MIA: I heard some things today that upset me.

Uh, what sort of things?

I'm sorry, I don't know if I can do this.

She's getting cold feet.

Hang in there, Mia.

Just hand him the thumb drive.

CALLEN: Get ready to move.

If she breaks, we're gonna have to take this guy.

Hey, talk to me.

What is it?

This is what my husband, Brent, was working on.

I think it may have been what got him k*lled.

I don't know what to do with it.

Good girl.

Look at him.

He's practically drooling.

Um, maybe... maybe you should give it to me.

Just to...

Just to be safe.

What a mensch.

I mean, hey, hey.

We're friends, Mia, right?

You've gone through a tough time, so...

It's the least I can do.

KENSI: Now walk away, Mia.

Just walk away.

I have to go.

Yeah, all right.

I'll, uh, I'll call you.

Okay.

Yeah.

(engine starts)

He's moving, Eric.

And we are tracking.

Oh, look. Top goon's back.

You're a fast reader.

Well, I skimmed.

You know, we, uh, we usually let the newbies get settled for a couple days, but there's a brainstorming session on the European Financial Crisis at 2:30 if you want to sit in.

Sure.

In the meantime, I am going to grab a sandwich in the park, if you want to join me for lunch.

Yeah, I don't think so.

Okay.

What? This guy could be a serial k*ller for all you know.

Mmm.

(high-pitched feedback)

(screams)

You okay?

Yeah, I just have this buzzing in my ear.

This is so going in my operations report.

(car door closes, alarm chirps)

Guy may have just been handed the keys to the kingdom, and he decides to get a haircut?

SAM: Hold it, he's coming back.

(car alarm chirps)

That was fast.

Maybe they don't take walk-ins.

He's on the move again.

He may be, the flash drive isn't.

He must have handed it off to somebody.

CALLEN: Kensi, follow him.

We'll hang with the thumb drive, see where it goes next.

We're on him.

(tires squealing)

(gasps)

Son of a bitch!

You guys okay?

Yeah, but we're losing the target.

Just for the record, that's called a side view mirror.

(groans)

(battle cries)

(grunts and groans)

(grunts)

(Hetty groans)

I was told you were meditating.

But I am.

I see you've added to your bag of tricks.

Just a little exercise.

More fun than the StairMaster.

I was referring to your ability to mesmerize your staff into believing you're the second coming.

My staff are a complementary team of independent thinkers.

And you would be wise not to let your personal vendetta cloud your judgment of them or me.

Is this where you quote Sun Tzu in a thinly veiled thr*at?

I'll leave the clichés to you, Owen.

Your remaining time might best be spent getting your affairs in order, Henrietta.

I'm not afraid of you.

That was your first mistake.

(man coughing)

(bottle rattles on floor)

(doorknob rattling)

(man groans)

(coughs hard)

Oh, hey, man.

Hey, man, what's up, man?

Hey, hey, man, can I bum a smoke?

I'll trade you a sip for a cigarette.

Oh, come on. Come on.

Just give me a cigarette.

I want a cigarette; I'll give you a sip.

Got the good stuff.

(makes squeaky noises)

Get lost.

Oh...

(coughing) Oh!

Well...

That was rude and environmentally hostile, but...

Uh...

I appreciate the DNA.

Oh, and here we go.

Well, looks like I'm going inside.

If I'm not back in ten minutes, it's 'cause I'm in trouble or I'm getting a bikini wax.

Welcome to my world.

(chuckles)

(indistinct chatter)

Somebody's got to feed these jellyfish.

Otherwise, they can't swim none.

Oh, hey, man, hey, man, can I use your bathroom?

Get the hell out of here!

Yo, hold on, hold, hold!

Fire in the hole.

Hold on, fire in the hole!

Fire in the hole...

Can I use your baño for two seconds? Got to talk to a man about an elephant. Ow! Oh!

DEEKS (mumbling): I am the 99%.

Hey, see you, boys!

Sign says exit, I get you, I get you, I get you.

(crashing)

Ahh!

You come back, I'm calling the cops.

Okay. All right.

Come on.

DEEKS: Well, that seemed excessive.

ERIC: Cameras are online, guys.

(groans)

Deeks, you okay?

Mm... Oh...

I think I went a little too method.

Might have shook something loose.

Tell me you're kidding.

I'm kidding.

(inhales deeply)

But I may need to make a pit stop.

(engine starts)

Anybody want to trade partners?

You're not getting this anyplace else, mama.

Huh?

Looks like a data retrieval operation.

ERIC: The thumb drive we handed off to Roger is still there.

Probably being analyzed by one of these guys.

Check out the back wall.

CALLEN: Those are security shredding bins.

They're used for sensitive documents, data storage devices.

That one's open.

What are the chances Brindell Research uses the same Steel Tower data destruction company?

I'd say pretty even.

In fact I used one at Brindell Research today.

That's why Hetty insists on destroying everything in house.

I just assumed she liked burning things.

Eric.

Everything I can find on Steel Tower.

(phone ringing in distance)

Anchors aweigh.

Oh.

Excuse me.

(sighs)

Tracking is online.

A little whiplash yesterday?

No, I'm fine.

You know, you never told me about your father.

Yes, I have.

Not about how he d*ed.

That's 'cause I'm still trying to figure that out myself.

Just if, uh-- I don't know, if you ever want to talk about it, I just... I know a thing or two about fathers, so...

You sh*t your father.

One time.

All right, it's not like I k*lled the man.

(chuckles)

Well, I didn't say I was an expert.

I just meant that...

Heads up.

KENSI: Guys, he's putting the bin in the truck without shredding it.

ERIC: And I'm still getting a signal.

(tires screeching)

(horn honks)

Federal agents.

Need to look in your truck.

I think this one's got a surprise inside.

CALLEN: You guys are supposed to destroy on pickup.

Looks like you forgot to do some shredding.

CALLEN: Juan Garcia worked at Steel Towers for six years.

It's one of two jobs he has, in part to pay for his daughter Emma's college.

Four months ago, he received these-- surveillance photos.

This is his daughter Emma.

Juan was told to stop shredding Brindell Research bins and deliver them to our friends at the hair salon.

And if he didn't, they'd hurt his daughter?

Exactly.

He say who told him to do this?

He wasn't given a name, but he positively identified our old friend.

KENSI: Who still hasn't been identified and who we let get away.

If by we, we mean you because you were driving.

So what do we do now?

We can't use Mia again.

Well, you know that photo you sent me?

There is an office space rented in the building across the street from Brindell Research.

I looked at the list of tenants, but I wasn't actually able to find out who owns it 'cause it's an LLC registered in a nondisclosure state.

I did find something.

Their security is a joke, which is probably another reason why they like the building.

It's our guy-- Roger.

Phony Roger.

CALLEN: I think we've got everything we need.

Time to pay him a visit.

(door bursts open)

Federal agents.

Hands where we can see 'em.

MAN: What the hell is this?

You boys look like you're up to no good.

Lawyer.

Federal agent.

Hmm, funny.

I want my lawyer.

The longer you stall, the longer my rights are denied.

It only hurts you.

That's true-- if we were cops and you weren't stealing classified Department of Defense secrets.

You see, we're federal agents and you have violated a number of National Security laws, at least...

A dozen.

Yikes, I was gonna say seven, but we have a little thing called the, uh, w*r on terrorism.

Maybe you've heard of it.

KENSI: I hope he buys this.

Not to mention the m*rder of Agent Griffin.

Special Agent Ian Griffin.

His partner saw you m*rder him.

That would be Special Agent Reece Watson.

You knew them as Mia and Brent Bolton.

Your surveillance is mediocre, your countersurveillance...

Sucks.

Bad.

CALLEN: What can I say?

You got played.

I didn't k*ll anybody.

Your word against a federal agent.

Look, I wasn't even armed.

Okay?

I was just tailing 'em.

Bolton pulled his g*n on me.

I tried to get away from him.

I shoved him down the stairs, the g*n went off when he fell.

That's the truth.

You'd swear to that?

Yes.

Yes!

(clears throat)

No.

Yeah.

So what do we tell Mia Bolton?

(sighs)

The truth-- that her husband d*ed protecting her.

(door opens)

They still inside?

Hey.

Yeah, but you can't go in there.

Hey.

Nice work.

What are you doing?

We'll take it from here.

We're not finished here.

GRANGER: Yeah, you are, and you did a great job, seriously.

I thought this would take you guys weeks.

I am genuinely impressed.

I'm sorry, guys.

He just walked right in there.

Granger.

That's Assistant Director Granger, Agent Hanna.

Our conversation is gonna have to wait, Blye.

Now, in the interim, you stay out of Hawaii.

CALLEN: So, what, you hand him off to one of the other agencies for some bureaucratic favors?

You see, now you're catching on.

I told you NCIS is part of a bigger whole.

Welcome to the big picture.

(sighs)

SAM: We catch him, Granger gets the glory.

This is my fault.

How do you figure?

I should have let you sh**t him.

Well, it's probably not too late if you run out there.

Won't be needing this anymore.

Guess this means no more lunches with Thruster.

Sorry, I was just, um...

Jealous.

Looking out for you.

That's what partners do.

We're not partners.

Well, I mean, we sort of are, aren't we?

Callen has Sam, Kensi has Deeks.

We're like the partners of OPS.

Guess so.

I mean, come on, we're clearly the two coolest people up here.

And the smartest.

I mean, your IQ is like what?

It's like...?

Nell, okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

Partner?

(phone ringing in distance)

Well, aren't you a sorry-looking bunch?

I was beginning to think that Granger had turned you into stone.

Never mistake motionlessness for inactivity, Mr. Callen.

Crocodiles get most of their meals that way.

Granger took our guy.

Yes, but you solved the mystery of Brent Bolton's death and broke up a spy ring that was threatening national security.

You should all be proud.

What were you hoping for, a ticker tape parade and a photo op?

We were hoping to follow through with it.

Patience, Mr. Callen; this is far from over.

Now, I want you to all get out of here.

I have a standing reservation for a private room at the Geisha House, but they'll only hold it until 10:00.

Really?

Well, no, they'll hold it until whenever the hell I get there, but I want you all out of here.

D-Don't worry about the bill.

I'm expensing it to our new assistant director.

(Kensi chuckles)

Nice.

(laughs)

DEEKS: Wait a minute, Hetty, are you, uh...?

You're not joining us?

Not tonight, Mr.

Deeks, I have plans, but thank you for asking.

Of course.

These plans of yours have anything to do with Granger?

He's here to stay, isn't he?

He's here definitely.

How long he stays remains to be seen.

(sighs)

Should I be worried about you?

Not as much as he should be.

I don't suppose you want to tell me the story of you two?

It's still being written.

Well, I hope it has a happy ending.

Not bloody likely.