04x19 - Red, Part 2

Episode transcripts for the TV show "NCIS: Los Angeles". Aired: September 2009 to present.*

Moderator: Phnxgirl

Watch/Buy Amazon  Merchandise


The Naval Criminal Investigation Service's Office of Special Projects takes on the undercover work and the hard to cr*ck cases in LA. Key agents are G. Callen and Sam Hanna, streets kids risen through the ranks.
Post Reply

04x19 - Red, Part 2

Post by bunniefuu »

HETTY: A man's been found, sh*t through the back of the head with a low-velocity round.

The m*rder w*apon was used two days later to k*ll a Marine in Idaho.

Our Red Team's already on the ground.

They work, travel, sleep together.

It's basically like living on a submarine.

CALLEN: Meet our boss, Paris Summerskill.

Callen...

Heard a lot about you.

PARIS: Special Agent Claire Keats...

Hi.

Dave Flynn...

Hey.

And Kai.

Thank you, sir.

GRANGER: Spears and his t*rror1st cell are our priority.

Both vehicles, let's load them up.

CALLEN: Four dead, one slightly injured.

Spears got away.


HETTY: Roy is going to be filling in.

You good with that?

Why'd you offer me this?

Why did you accept?

Roy!

Where were you?

Redemption.

Mr. Callen, interrogate the surviving t*rror1st.

Ms. Summerskill, get your team down to El Centro.

Find Robert Spears.

And, Ms. Summerskill, you're still a man down.

(sighs)

You should take another look at the report on Roy's sh**ting; refresh your memory.

You know, I never did find out who redacted that report.

A lot of unanswered questions about that night, Henrietta.

And a few buried secrets.

Will he ever trust her?

I think the question is, Owen, will Paris ever trust herself?

♪ NCIS: LA 4x19 ♪

Red (2)

Original Air Date on March 26, 2013



(engines roaring)

CLAIRE: How was the flight, Kai?

KAI: Me and the trucks did just fine.

It feels good to be warm again.

Yeah, and tomorrow we'll be sweating our asses off wishing we were someplace cool, like Idaho.

Eight states in 13 weeks, not to mention our side trips to Kuwait, Somalia, and the Bahamas.

You didn't like the Bahamas?

I love the Bahamas.

All right, I'm just saying, we never stay in one place long enough to warm up, cool down or chill out.

Okay, Kai, we've got to--

We really got to get these--

KAI: Look-look, I got it.

All right?

And I don't need to be told twice and at the same time.

Base camp is on the northern edge of town.

All right, I've sent maps to your phones.

Along with local law enforcement, FBI, Border Protection and State Police contact details.

And all of you, you still need to sign Danny's get well card.

(laughs)

Give it here.

I'm driving Shirley, you got Laverne.

ROY: Okay, I got Laverne.

This could get difficult.

Which one do we salute?

Paris.

No, no. Roy's senior.

Paris used to work for him before he was sh*t.

He's an analyst, she's an agent.

That puts Paris in charge.

Theoretically.

It's not theoretical, it's practical.

Paris is boss.

Has anybody told him?

Probably not.

You're right; this could get difficult.

Mm-hmm.

Mmm! Does this contain nuts?

You don't have a nut allergy, Dave.

I-I think my glands are swollen.

Do I look puffy?

You always look puffy, Dave.

Do I...?

(repeatedly clearing throat)

Your friends are dead, Ari; you're alive.

You got nothing to lose.

So why don't you tell us about Spears.

He is the one you fear.

With his yellow hair and white skin.

He is the man that you pass on the street, the man who sits beside you on the train; serves you coffee, serves you popcorn.

Kneels besides you at church.

Kisses your daughter.

He is the one you hate because he is you.

The future of the Holy Jihad.

A white Muslim.

And one day, there will be 10, 000 Spears aimed at your heart.

And your CIA will not know friend from foe.

And America and the West will crumble.

And Allah will be triumphant.

While Spears is still out there, Ari's not going to give us anything.

Ari thinks Spears got away.

Well, small point, but he did get away.

Did he?

Do you want to tell him, or should I?

You tell him.

Spears is dead.

(scoffs)

I don't believe you.

I saw him escape with my own eyes.

k*lled an hour ago in El Centro.

Betrayed by the man who smuggled him across the border from Mexico.

It's not true.

You know it is.

You know he crossed the border at El Centro.

I'm guessing you even know the name of the man who helped smuggle him.

If what you say is true, then Allah will take his revenge on this man.

Let us be Allah's instrument.

Tell us this man's name.

By telling us, you will avenge Spears.

His name is José Ramirez.

And game.

CALLEN: Paris, you in position?

Yeah, we're just setting up.

We'll get right on it.

Ari Sayed gave us a name: José Ramirez.

Ramirez is a Mexican-born U. S. citizen who lives here in El Centro.

He specializes in smuggling people and weapons across the border.

Every time the Border Patrol gets close to Ramirez, people start dying.

Usually informants or witnesses.

Okay, he's got a ranch...

Ten miles out of town.

Got a plan?

We're going to check it out.

Maybe you can work up some local intel on Ramirez.

ROY: Got it.

Only one road in.

Ramirez's ranch.

Yeah.

Just be careful.

CLAIRE: Three cars.

Five, six, may-- at least seven guys.

High ground, a lot of buildings.

And Roy's right, only one road in or out.

Hard to att*ck, easy to defend.

Heads up, they're on the move.

And they are not messing around.

DAVE: Have they seen us?

Too far.

Well, something's got them spooked.

Here comes the man himself-- Ramirez.

They are coming out hot.

We've got to move, now.

(starting engine)

Oh, crap.

Here they come.

(engine revving)

I think we've been made.

How could they have made us, we just got here.

I think we're good.

DAVE: g*n!

Drop your w*apon!

Drop it!

Dave, how's your Spanish?

(Dave speaks a few words in halting Spanish)

Uh... el...

What'd you say to him, Dave?

Ask him out on a date?

DAVE: El Centro.

One more pin in the map.

(quietly): Hey...

Another head sh*t.

Paris.

She sh*t the bodyguard in the head.

Yeah, we're-we're trained to sh**t for the body mass-- you know, the torso, it's a bigger target-- she takes a head sh*t.

Circumstance, spur of the moment.

No, no, no.

What-what-what about the guy in Memphis with the homemade flamethrower?

Head sh*t.

That messed-up cartel gunfight we got into in New Mexico.

Two guys, both head sh*ts.

Is this going anywhere?

No.

Just curious.

Curiosity k*lled the cat, Dave.

Probably a head sh*t.

PARIS: Oh, you took your time.

Yeah, I've been drinking tequila with the county sheriff.

He's a little upset he hadn't been told we were in his jurisdiction.

Well, we sent an e-mail.

I was just...

Pay him a courtesy call.

I told him you were on the way when we got the Ramirez intel.

Any sign of him?

Nah.

My drinking buddy thinks he hightailed it down to Mexico.

Might be something on this, Dave.

Cool. Homework.

How'd you get it?

Oh, Sheriff Drunky let me download the GPS data from the wreck.

Hey, whose turn is it to cook dinner?

Me?

Yeah.

Yeah, I can, uh... (sniffs)

...can cook.

(clears throat)

ROY: Pizza counts, right?

(beeping)

Do you want to tell me this story over a cup of tea, Owen...

Or should I break out the scotch?

Five years ago, I was part of a joint FBI task force.

Bobby-Lee Wilson was a whistle-blower.

We had him under witness protection, but he was m*rder*d before he could give his testimony.

sh*t in the back of the head with a low-velocity round?

Yeah, he was in the next room.

sh**t used a pillow to muffle the sound.

We still don't know how he got past us.

Kept me awake at night for months.

Well, your sh**t has a face now.

GRANGER: Well, if it's the same man.

If we were to believe what Ari Sayed told Callen and Sam, Spears is a fundamentalist driven by his ideology.

So what's he doing working as a contract k*ller five years ago?

Mm.

Eric?

A data search.

All states.

Go back five years; unsolved murders.

All the victims sh*t in the back of the head with a low-velocity round.

Got it.

Can't have you losing sleep, Owen.

(lively music playing)

(panting)

That's another five dollars you owe me.

No, no.

No, I worked all night, on-on Roy's GPS stuff.

Wait, what's it up to?

Fifty-five.

You-you know, I never agreed to the whole "morning run challenge" thing.

It was just one time.

It was a...

(quietly): one-time thing.

You awake?

Now I am.

Hundred and five, right?

Hundred and ten.

Dock my pay.

Already have.

How far?

Five miles.

Used to be ten.

(quietly): I hate this bathroom.

Kai?

Roy.

Okay, Roy, Paris and then me in the shower-- don't even think about it, Dave, or I'll sh**t you.

Good to know.

You find anything from the GPS data Roy gave you?

Yes. Okay.

Uh, multiple trips every day.

Mostly in and around El Centro.

Now, first trip every day is always in the same location.

Ramirez's ranch.

Right. Which is also the final destination every day.

And in between?

Well, the second most visited location is a place up on the Salton Sea.

At least one return trip a day, every day.

Worth checking out.

Where, exactly?

Place called Bombay Beach.

Mm. Sounds exotic.

(chuckles): Yeah, it's exotic, all right.

I wouldn't be packing my bikini.

I-I mean, your bikini.

I mean, not that I would actually be packing your bikini.

That would be weird.

You done?

I'm done.

Don't sh**t me.

Bam!

Is that for me?

And Kensi.

From?

Hetty Lange.

That looks bad.

Very bad.

How bad?

Well, 117 unsolved m*rder cases from across the U. S.

Where the victim was sh*t in the head with a low-velocity round.

I don't want that.

This puppy's got five years worth.

Hetty wants you to sift through the files and look for common denominators.

Be my guest.

Ladies first, I insist.

(exhales)

(whistles)

Hey.

You might want to see this.

So, I ran a facial recognition program and found all the footage of Spears at O'Hare Airport.

There's someone with him.

Mm-hmm.

Guy in a red scarf.

Now, there's only five frames before he's obscured, but Spears is definitely talking to him.

Nice catch, Nell.

Thanks.

Now I just have to go through all the footage again and try to find a clean frame of him somewhere else in the airport.

DEEKS: Good luck with that.

Welcome to Bombay Beach, where man met nature and nature won.

Water here is saltier than seawater.

PARIS: Reminds me of Chernobyl.

You've been to Chernobyl?

Briefly.

All right.

GPS...

Logged Ramirez's car...

Taking this dirt road, stopping about a quarter mile further along.

's not a through road, though; must lead to a house.

We'll walk.

(quietly): That's Ramirez's car.



Got bodies.

Federal agents!

Federal agents Paris. Dave.

In here.

CLAIRE: I'm guessing they're illegals.

I'm guessing they're dead.

Ramirez.

Single g*nsh*t to the back of the head.

DAVE: Looks like Spears b*at us to it.

(low, indistinct conversation)

(camera shutter clicking)

You ever gonna do anything with those?

An exhibition, maybe.

One day.

They made good time.

Sorry. Traffic.

Got caught coming out of L. A.

How many bodies?

15, including Ramirez and his two bodyguards.

CLAIRE: Looks like the house was the staging point to move illegals on to other destinations, probably Los Angeles.

PARIS: So...

Ramirez arrives with his guys, he waits outside by his car; his guys go inside to take care of business, and for whatever reason, they k*ll all the people in the house.

Dozens of spent nine-millimeter casings inside, none outside.

While they're doing that, Ramirez gets tapped from behind, low-velocity, almost certain to be a .22-cal.

No shell casings?

No shell casings.

Had his Beretta in his hand.

Didn't even have time to squeeze off a sh*t.

SAM: So Ramirez was already dead when his two guys came back out.

Yeah. Two guys got tapped in the back of the head as well.

Quick, silent and efficient.

sh**t is a ghost, ninja or... invisible man.

Maybe all three.

Or none of the above.

Sheriff thinks Ramirez might have been tipped off that somebody was coming to get him.

Must have spooked him.

Decided to get out.

Was cutting his losses.

So we weren't made.

He thought we were coming to k*ll him.

Something's not adding up.

Why would Spears k*ll the guy who could get him out of here?

Last sighting I have of red-scarf dude was ten minutes after he met with Spears.

What if he's not catching a flight?

What if he's a local?

I'll check the parking lot footage.

Red-scarf dude's got to pop up somewhere.

Thanks, amigo.

Adios.



What is he doing?

(grunting with effort)

You need a hand?

It's color-coded, right?

Blue to blue, green to green.

Open the stop valve, turn on the pump.

A rare thing.

An agent who knows his waste management.

Former agent.

Crap runs downhill.

That's all you got to remember.

(sighs)

You find the guy in the red scarf yet?

Still looking.

How about the guy Spears talked to on the satellite phone?

Still listening.

Nell's up to her ass in NSA audio tape.

You like working with Paris?

Yeah.

Think this will work out?

Depends.

On what?

On how hard she hit you.

She didn't knock you down, right?

Uh, no.

You kind of stagger?

Little.

Hmm.

Then you should be okay then.

I mean, she really hated you, she would have put you on your ass.

I've seen it.

Yeah, me, too.

You know why she did it?

I probably deserved it.

It's a long story.

Maybe I'll tell you one day.
(clanking, sputtering)

Come on...

We gotta eat more greens.

(clanking, sputtering stops)

So, what do you think happened out at that ranch?

Why would Spears sh**t the one guy that was going to get him across the border?

Seems a dumb-ass thing to do.

What makes you think it was Spears?

A low-velocity round to the back of the head.

Spears' signature.

That's the sh**t's signature.

Maybe we got this wrong.

Maybe Spears isn't the sh**t.

Wonder what it would be like-- you, me, Red Team...

Unbearable.

...working together.

We're supposed to be working an unsolved m*rder case in which the victim was sh*t in the back of the head with a low-velocity round, Deeks.

Living together.

Me walking in on you in the shower.

Or the bunk room.

You walking in on me in the shower.

Or the bunk room.

You walking in on Sam or Hetty.

Who invited them?

We're a team, aren't we?

Yeah.

No, two people can be a team.

Mm. How many case files have you reviewed?

Seven.

Mm?

Almost.

Thirty-three.

Thirty-three?!

(phone ringing)

Get on it!

(clearing his throat)

Detective Marty Deeks, Cold Case Division.

(laughs)

Oh. Yes.

Hi... Hetty.

Yes. No, we're...

Right now?

Ops on the double.

HETTY: Now.

Okay. Yeah.

No, we're on it.

Hey, uh, you think, uh, Hetty wears a shower cap?

Red Scarf Guy, or "Dude, " as Kai likes to call him, proved elusive.

After meeting Spears, we only caught a few frames of him in airport security cameras until...

He stopped for a coffee in terminal two.

Yeah, his name is Tommy Kraus.

He lives in Los Angeles, right there in your backyard.

And here's the kicker.

(clearing his throat)

Tommy Kraus is the proud owner of a satellite phone.

The same satellite phone used to contact Spears.

Red Scarf Guy and Satellite Guy are the same... guy.

NELL: Tommy Kraus is like an underworld Mr. Fix-it.

You need weapons, Kraus can arrange it.

A safe house, false papers--

Kraus can supply it.

So Kraus flies to Chicago, meets Spears, talk a little business, maybe get paid.

He knows everyone, everything.

Maybe he knows where Spears has gone.

Ms. Blye, Detective Deeks, I want him.

ERIC: Dead or alive.

Um.... a-alive.

Alive, alive.

Alive is better than dead.

Wow.

We got a plan?

We always got a plan.

Yeah? What is it?

What is the plan?

The plan is to go up and knock on the door, and...

You don't have a plan, do you?

I don't have a plan.

(laughs)

Well, I guess we could just, uh, wait for him to answer the door, and then take him in for questioning. (doorbell chiming)

That's not a plan.

Ah, sounds like a damn good plan to me.

What if he doesn't answer the door?

(door opening)

May I help you?

Yeah. We're so sorry we're late.

We are.

Marty forgot his meds... again.

I did.

So we had to turn around and go back and get 'em... again.

Can Mr. Kraus still see us?

He didn't say anything about an appointment.

Well...

That's maybe because the appointment is...

Personal in nature, and not something that he would share with his... assistant?

Uh... yeah.

Look, he's not here right now, so you're going to have to come back.

Actually, that's not okay.

LAPD.

That's your plan?

Wait... you guys can't come in here without a warrant.

Probable cause... unless that's incense I'm smelling.

Wow. Yeah.

There's a kitty cat in the...

(clears his throat)

Look, he's not here, okay?

And you are?

Brett.

His assistant?

His bodyguard.

All right.

Oh, sure you are.

You the pool boy, Brett?

No, I bet you're the gardener.

Mm... gardener.

You take care of your, uh, boss's indoor potted plants, do you?

What do you want to know?

Where's Tommy?

You're going to be in a whole lot more trouble with us than your boss if you don't tell us what we need to know, kiddo.

He got a call, said he had to go meet some guy.

How long?

Couple of hours ago.

He said he wouldn't be back until tomorrow.

Meet some guy where?

Some hotel...

Down in El Centro.

DEEKS: Looks like all roads lead to El Centro.

ERIC: Sam, looks like the phone used to make the call is a burner.

Thanks, Eric.

The call that Kraus received was from a burn phone.

Eric's trying to pull a tape of the conversation.

What if it's Spears covering his tracks?

He kills Ramirez first, then he calls Kraus, lures him here to pop him, as well.

Or maybe, Kraus heard that Ramirez is dead, and is coming to meet Spears with another plan.

What?

You think I'm too eager?

Eager's good.

Keeps you sharp.

You know, Hetty thinks they'd be good for each other.

That's why she was checking in on us the night you arrived.

Did you notice that?

I noticed.

Did Callen?

No. Did Paris?

No.

Maybe Hetty's right.

Maybe they have got something in common.

Hetty's always right.

So, you like this whole road thing?

Yeah, I love it.

How about you?

Undercover work?

I wouldn't have it any other way.

Yeah, me neither.

You want a coffee?

Oh, a beer would be good.

Oh, what? What?

You don't drink beer?

(laughs)

Soon as we get these guys.

Full strength.

None of the light stuff.

Mm-hmm. Got it.

CALLEN: Sam...

SAM: Yep.

CALLEN: Black BMW outside the hotel.

That's Kraus.

Got him.

(sighs)

(laughs)

Oh, no...

Hello, Tommy.

Do I know you?

Not yet.

One down.

One to go.

13 cases in five years that fit the M. O.-- low-velocity, up-close wound to the back of the head.

Different victims, different states.

Only connection is the person who sh*t them.

Contract killings.

Why would a Jihadist be working as a contract k*ller?

(sighs)

He wouldn't.

Kitchen is closed, laboratory is open.

I'm hungry.

Rules is rules.

Yeah, you're doing a b*llet comparison?

Mm. Three slugs, three victims--

Ramirez and his two bodyguards.

And I just found something that shouldn't be there.

On which b*llet?

All three of 'em.

NELL: So, I was going through the footage we found from the airport on Tommy Kraus.

That's when I found it.

Easily missed.

Mm-hmm.

We're gonna have to find another camera angle.

He's definitely talking to someone.

Let's see who it is.

ERIC: You've got company.

Black coffee, one sugar.

Turkey sandwich, no mayo.

What do you want, Roy?

An elephant stamp for remembering?

Hey, give me one for caring.

Why didn't you say, "Go to hell" when Hetty offered you this?

Well, 'cause it's just for a couple months till Danny gets back on deck.

Question was why, not how long.

I don't know why.

Look, if you're looking for answers, I don't have any more answers.

I gave you...

No, no, no. I'm...

I'm not looking for any answers.

Trying to find answers kept me up for three years.

All right, you had your reasons.

If I wanted to know, you would have let me know, right?

Just till Danny's back then.

Right.

Right.

All right, let's start with: I'm the boss.

Fine, you're the boss.

You do as I say.

Yeah.

You keep your opinions to yourself.

Understood, Cap'n.

And no indoor soccer.

No, none.

I'm sorry you got sh*t, Roy.

Me, too.

(clears throat)

CLAIRE: Accounts in the Cayman Islands, properties in South America, Spain, and Belgium.

I like the place in Madrid.

You're a wealthy guy, Tommy.

You know how good that makes me feel?

That you're a wealthy guy?

That you're telling me all this.

Because there is no way you got all this information legally, and you are dealing, here, with someone who knows the law.

Intimately.

Are you intimate with the Patriot Act, Tommy?

(sighs)

SAME: Legislation enacted to protect Americans from t*rrorists.

Tommy the t*rror1st.

I like that.

That's funny.

Has a nice ring to it.

Mm-hmm.

It's not funny for you, though.

You think I'm a t*rror1st?

We have you on tape arranging to help a known t*rror1st illegally cross the border, we have photos of you meeting that same t*rror1st, and we have evidence that you helped supply weapons for a planned t*rror1st att*ck on the United States.

It's called giving aid and comfort to the enemy, Tommy.

It's also known as treason.

I am not a t*rror1st, I am a patriot.

I tried to stop this thing as soon as I found out what he was planning.

What who was planning?

Look, I thought he was a dealer.

I get him across the border, I supply him with some hardware, a safe house.

I mean, it's no big deal.

I swear, as soon as I realized what he was up to, I tried to stop him.

How?

Look, he's the enemy, right?

So it's not m*rder, it's lawful.

I was protecting my country.

I deserve a medal for what I did.

How, Tommy?

I hired a contractor to clean up the mess--

Santoso, Ramirez, Spears.

Spears isn't the sh**t.

He's the target.

Callen, he's here.

CALLEN: Got him.

Roy, stay in the car.

PARIS: There he is.

Spears!

(groans)

I'll take the stairs.

Watch the elevator.

(panting)

(muttering): Come on, come on, come on.

(line ringing)

(phone rings)

Yeah.

DAVE (staticky): Paris, can you hear me?

I...

(Dave's voice breaking up in static)

Dave?

(staticky): ...lipstick...

Did you say "lipstick"?

Tell us his name.

The sh**t's not a man.

It's a woman.

ERIC: We've seen her before.



(distant g*nf*re)



(both grunting)

(g*nsh*t)

(panting)

(g*nf*re)

(panting)

I told you to stay in the car.

I know, I know.

My bad.

It won't happen again, I promise.

ROY: What's that?

Kiss of death.

Hey.

Hey.

Want to stay for dinner?

Dave's not cooking.

I appreciate that, but Sam has a family.

Right.

What exactly happened the night Roy got sh*t?

(gasping weakly)

Stay with me.

Stay with me.

(Roy groans weakly)

I sh*t a guy, and he didn't stay down.

He was wearing a vest.

Roy saved my life.

So what's the problem?

It's complicated.

(car approaching)

We got a case.

Where?

Bald Knob, Arkansas.

Hear it's quite a place.

I'm good with complicated.

It's really complicated.

So, um...

I guess that beer's going to have to wait.

I guess so.

PARIS: Hey.

Take care, Roy.

(engine starts, rumbles)

We got it wrong from the start, Owen.

Tyler wasn't k*lled because he filmed Spears.

He was k*lled because he filmed the woman sent to k*ll him.

She's been sh**ting people for money for more than a decade, including my witness.

Here's to Paris and Callen.

You mean Roy.

Of course.

(laughs)
Post Reply