06x01 - Deep Trouble, Part II

[bunniefuu]

Previous on NCIS-Los Angeles...

The White Ghost has come back to haunt me.

It's a witch hunt.

Ms. Jones, I need a flight to Washington.

Michael Wilson. Guy's served time and he's a white supremacist.

Card-carrying member of the Herrenvolk Brotherhood.

(expl*si*n)

KENSI: Is that Wilson?

SAM: Guy's in pretty bad shape.

What's shaking, partner?

Hi. All right. Hi.

Ooh.

DEEKS: DEA Agent Talia Del Campo, this is Special Agent Kensi Blye.

What's your connection to Michael Wilson?

The DEA has been following the Harrenvolk Brotherhood.

They move half the meth on the West Coast.

What about coke?

Not traditionally, but they've been forming some new alliances.

What kind of boat did you build for him?

A submersible.

And the Colombians have found subs being built capable of hauling 200 tons of cocaine.

Hey.

SAM: Fertilizer?

CALLEN: Looks like the dr*gs have been loaded out.

This whole thing's a giant torpedo.

You cannot escape.

Neither can you.

(door slams, lock clicks)

Callen, Sam, do you hear me?

(distorted): Ca... SA... do you... ...me?

Callen, Sam, do you hear me?

(rustling)

Oh!

What's happening?

Sam and Callen are on the sub.

Where is it?

It launched.

We are in the sub.

I repeat-- we are in the sub.

(distorted)

...drug... ...lizer.

Say again, you're breaking up.

SA... ...breaking up.

They replaced the dr*gs with fertilizer.

I need eyes on that vessel, Beale.

I know, I know. I'm trying.

I've got the Coast Guard Air Station on the line.

They're headed for the ocean.

Callen, Sam, do you still hear me? Callen?

Damn it.

Callen, Sam.

Op... we...

We are inside the sub.

Ca... ...me.

I got nothing.

We're on our own.

(air whirrs)

And we're diving.

♪ NCIS: LA 6x01 ♪
Deep Trouble, Part II
Original Air Date on September 29, 2014

We cannot let that sub get to the ocean.

How do we do that?

Lock up the harbor.

Even if we block it with ships, it's not gonna matter. I mean, they're underwater, in a sub.

What are we gonna use, a giant net?

(grunts)

G., give it up.

There's no way to open that hatch from this side short of C-4. This thing is built like a damn battleship.

The hell are you doing there, MacGyver?

It'll help us know which way we're going.

(air whirrs)

We're turning starboard.

How deep Eric say this thing can go?

Deeper than I want it to.

60 feet.

Harbor's not even 50.

Deep enough to come and go without being seen.

Plus all the ship traffic'll make it hard to pick up on sonar.

We got to find a way to force this thing to the surface.

Yeah.

What sort of music would you like to listen to?

Oh, I think I'd prefer the silence.

(phone chimes)

The Coast Guard has a helicopter over the harbor, but they haven't spotted anything yet.

They could sneak out underneath a tanker and we'd never know it.

HETTY: What's going on?

What the hell was that?

It's Hetty.

Where is she?

Everywhere.

Turn her off.

I asked you a question.

We've got this, just focus on your trip.

Don't handle me, Owen.

Beale.

I'm trying.

Mr. Beale, if you turn me off, you'll regret it long after your wounds have healed.

Callen and Sam are trapped on the narco sub.

What?

How did they get on...

Thank you.

You're welcome.

Say something nice at my funeral.

We need to get back. Immediately.

You'll miss your flight.

To hell with my flight.

Turn around.

I have strict orders to accompany you all the way to the gate, Ms. Lange.

And I have a lipstick g*n in my purse and I am not afraid to use it.

sh**t me and the car will crash.

That's precisely why I'm wearing my seat belt.

We should go to the hospital and question Michael Wilson.

His g*ng is moving the dr*gs; maybe he knows where the sub is going.

We're not even sure if he can talk.

Guys, what about the dr*gs?

We can't let several tons of coke hit the street. Come on.

All right, here's the deal: you go to the hospital, see if you can interview Wilson.

I'm gonna go back to his house, see if I can find anything.

Can I ride with you?

Yeah, sure. I'll call in the other agents and brief 'em there.

You know what, on second thought, why don't you question Wilson.

I'll ride with Talia.

What?

Why?

Because I don't want to go to the hospital.

You're the one who wanted to question him.

No, I said somebody should question him. it doesn't have to be me.

Do you want me to question this guy?

No.

No.

Okay.

Fine.

(clears throat)

Thank you.

I will go to... the hospital, then.

We're federal agents.

The Coast Guard and Navy are already searching for this vessel.

You okay?

Considering I'm trapped in a tiny submarine with tons of fertilizer, essentially turning it into a giant underwater b*mb...

It's not that tiny.

Speak for yourself.

All right, look, let's think, here.

What can we do to stop this thing?

I don't know.

We're in the bow.

Most of the controls'll be in the bridge back to the engine, rudder and prop.

What if we purge the ballast?

They used the cocaine as a ballast, now it's the fertilizer.

Any seawater ballast controls'll be in the bridge as well.

You got any good news for me?

So far this thing isn't leaking.

(deep, loud clang)

What the hell was that?

It must have hit the bottom.

Or some old pilings.

This thing was made for open water, not navigating obstacles.

Well, this just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it?

I've got a live satellite feed of the harbor.

Still no sign of the sub.

I need you to plot possible courses using everything we know about this sub's capabilities.

Got it.

And I want you to find the guy who designed and built this submarine and bring him to the boatshed.

I promise not to work Beale to death until you get back.

(short exhale)

Let's move it, Jones.

Have fun.

Yeah.

(mumbling): Five degrees between...

Hope that's not a farewell note.

Trying to get a rough idea of where we are based on speed, running time, and the course correction.

And?

I'm guessing we're about three miles off the coast of Huntington.

Well, that's good.

Means they're not planning on detonating this thing under the Santa Monica Pier.

Check it out.

(grunts)

Batteries.

Makes sense to run 'em along the keel because of weight.

Probably wired the length of the sub.

We disconnect these, we'll cut their power by what-- 30%?

Should at least slow 'em down until they surface and switch to diesel.

Let's do it.

(electrical crackling)

We're losing power.

(beeping)

What is happening?

They disconnected some of the batteries.

Can we fix it?

Yes.

We just have to rewire them.

We can't do that with them in there.

We can if they're dead.

Turn off the air and power to the forward hold.

SAM: 20 bucks says that was intentional.

Yeah, we can use the batteries to power these lights back up.

Yeah.

But they won't help with the air.

I'm really starting to hate these guys.

(knocking)

MAN (muffled): You think you're clever, but you're not.

Who am I speaking to?

I am the captain.

I am Jabril.

And you are dead men.

What's your game plan, Jabril?

JABRIL: This is no game.

This is jihad.

We will eliminate jahiliyyah.

We will restore sharia to the world.

(whispers): What the hell's jahiliyyah?

The time of darkness before we were given the Quran.

Where we headed, Jabril?

JABRIL: We are going to paradise.

You are going to hell.

Istishhadi.

These guys are martyrs.

Which means... this is a su1c1de mission.

Yeah.

WOMAN (over P.A.): Dr. Werner, extension 221.

Mr. Wilson, I'm Marty Deeks. I'm a detective with LAPD.

I hate pigs.

Huh. But apparently love nostalgia.

Seriously, who calls cops pigs anymore?

I got to ask you some questions.

I don't talk to pigs.

All right, well, how do you feel about the Navy?

'Cause I'm currently assigned to NCIS.

Naval Criminal Investigative Services-- you heard of us?

No? No? Well, we're pretty cool.

Yeah, chicks dig us, which is awesome.

The point is that two of their agents, who happen to be my friends, are stuck on your submarine.

I'll die before I tell you anything.

(moans)

You will if we don't speed this up.

Go to hell!

(indistinct chatter)

None of my guys or their informants have noticed anything hitting the street.

My guess is they're still cutting the dr*gs, but the clock is ticking.

Yeah, I'm well aware of that. Thank you.

Okay, I wasn't implying that you weren't.

Good.

All right, look, I only have one agenda here: find the dr*gs, arrest the people who got 'em.

I'm not trying to poach your boyfriend.

Deeks is not my boyfriend.

He's my partner.

My God, you guys are both in denial.

No wonder you're wired so tight.

You can shut up any second now.

You know, if I were you, I would just go for it.

Have a full-on freak-fest weekend, get it out of your system before you blow an O-ring or something.

No wonder you like him.

You both talk like idiots.

Careful, honey.

Don't let all that pent-up sexual frustration force you to say something you're gonna regret.

You need to step off.

You need to let that boy under your hood for a little oil change before somebody else does.

Is that a thr*at?

No, that's a fact.

Well, here's a thr*at.

Stay away from my partner.

That's a warning.

Get out of my face before I break that pretty nose of yours.

That is a thr*at.

(grunts)

MAN: Whoa!

(grunts) Okay, okay, okay!

Break it up!

Hey! What the hell's wrong with you two?

We're out of here!

Hey. You all right?

TALIA: Yeah, I'm good.

(sighs)

Ow.

(sighs)

Wait!

I don't want your apology.

Good, 'cause you're not getting one.

Receipts for fertilizer.

Ten bags at a time from several different places.

They're building a b*mb?

Or they've turned the sub into one.

I know you were a math-a-magician or whatever in high school, but you really think this is the best use of your time right now?

I was a mathlete, and I'm trying to determine how much air we have left.

This thing is essentially a cylinder, the volume of which is pi times the radius squared, so about four-four feet by ten.

Not counting what's in the nose, that gives us roughly 500 cubic feet.

Now, the two of us will breathe about a cubic foot every two minutes, which is...

250 minutes. Four hours.

We're laughing.

(panting)

Yeah.

If we didn't have to exhale.

Every time we breathe out, the carbon dioxide level in here increases.

Why do you always have to be a sub's half-empty guy, huh?

Because when the CO2 level reaches three percent, our breathing doubles.

Then when it reaches five percent, our breathing quadruples.

Beyond that, we'll start showing signs of... disorientation, blurred vision and, uh, loss of consciousness and eventual death.

Bet you mathletes were a lot of fun, huh?

"Hey, guys, guess how many pounds per square inch it takes to crush a kitten's skull?"

We've been running straight for a long time.

That's good.

Less chance of hitting something.

Okay.

You want to strike out at America, you basically have an underwater b*mb.

Where do you use it if it's not a crowded pier?

I'd do a bridge during rush hour.

Okay.

Offshore oil rig. It's an environmental disaster, loss of lives. Not to mention the symbolism of oil.

Cruise ship.

Lots of innocent civilians.

Icon of Western excess.

A w*r ship.

We're headed for San Diego.

Where the USS Van Buren is in port.

You destroy an American aircraft carrier, that's like Christmas for insurgents.

You want to talk about symbolism...

Not to mention the environmental disaster.

The USS Van Buren is nuclear-powered.

There are two reactors on that thing.

The Navy will be actively searching for us. Plus, they already have security measures in place at the base, but... we can't run the risk of this thing slipping through.

If we can't force them to the surface...

We have to sink this thing.

You know what that means?

Yeah.

Every receipt is for ten 50-pound bags of fertilizer paid with cash.

Now, I've checked garden centers and home supply depots in a ten-mile radius, and so far I've got three more identical purchases.

If they're related, that's two tons of expl*sives.

None of which was found in the house.

How many tons of coke on that sub?

I don't know. Nine. Maybe ten.

If they replaced with fertilizer...

They have a giant underwater b*mb.

(Hetty clears throat)

Eric?

(whispers): She's back.

Tell me what's going on.

And where the hell is Granger?

You were paid to design and build a sub for the purpose of smuggling several tons of cocaine into the country.

No, I...

Shut the hell up.

If you open your mouth one more time, unless it's to answer a question, I'm gonna wrap your tongue around my fist and b*at you with it.

They k*lled my wife.

That's on you.

For all I know, having her k*lled was part of your deal.

No, that's not true.

Why didn't they scuttle the sub after the drug run?

I don't know.

They wouldn't risk another run.

So they must've had another plan.

DEEKS: If you don't cooperate, you're gonna be an accomplice to anything that happens to those two federal agents.

I hope they die. Painfully.

Oh, you mean like you?

I'm not dying.

You're not?

(chuckles)

All right, let me let you in on something pretty special here.

Smile.

That's you, Wilson.

You got burns over 70% of your body.

I refuse to die.

I refused to grow up.

Actually, that's working out pretty well for me.

But you, you, on the other hand, well, let's see, shall we?

"Surviving burns."

It is the rule of the nines.

So, you get nine percent for each arm, 18% for each leg, nine for the front torso, nine for the back torso, another nine for the head.

Yours is probably a six for burns, another two for ugliness-- and that's being generous on both accounts.

You take that number, add it to your age and if that number's over 100, then it says you're not gonna survive. You're 32, and that's... 48, 52, 61, 70.

70 plus 32 is a hundred and...

102.

You're dying, Wilson.

You're dying.

(shuddering breath)

No, no.

See, don't...

You don't want to... you don't want to do that because the, uh, salt from your tears, you're gonna sting your burns.

Screw you, bitch!

Bitch? I'm not the one crying.

Wow, this is... this is getting awkward.

Do you want some water or something?

No.

No water?

What about, uh... what about whiskey?

Look at those eyes light up.

(chuckles)

It's funny 'cause I always carry around these little rascals just in case I get sh*t on the job by some loser like yourself. I figure if I'm gonna die, I might as well have a drink before I go.

There you go, brother.

Oh, uh, one thing.

Where is your sub going?

Oh, you son of a bitch.

All right, suit yourself.

(slurping)

Oh, God, that's smooth.

You know, I saw a guy with a drill bit in his head.

He could probably use a drink.

(panting)

It's not my sub!

How the hell do we sink it?

We need a big-ass drill or a cutting torch to breach the hull.

Could a thermite reaction burn through?

Maybe.

But we'd need magnesium to ignite some iron oxide.

We got plenty of rust here from all the salt water corrosion.

We need to collect as much as we can.

We add some aluminum to get the temperature up, we may be able to burn through a weld or soften it enough to compromise its integrity.

But we don't have any magnesium.

We have lithium.

From the batteries.

Lithium.

It's an alkali metal.

It's highly reactive and flammable.

Hell, it's a fusion fuel in staged thermonuclear weapons.

We short-circuit the batteries, we can induce thermal runaway.

I don't think I've ever seen you this excited about a su1c1de plan.

The sub belongs to the hadjis.

Who?

Some camel cowboys had it built to bring in the dr*gs.

You got names for me?

Guy named Jabril.

We called him Jar Jar Binks.

I'm sure he appreciated that.

You got last names?

No.

Where's he from?

Syria, Iraq.

I don't know.

Some Middle East crap hole.

And where are the dr*gs now?

Oh, I ain't telling you that.

(slurping)

Oh, God, that's good.

You know, I feel like, uh, we should probably just... be honest with each other, you know?

'Cause here's the deal: no one's gonna know.

I mean, think about it.

Your brothers are gonna think you d*ed defending the cause.

You're gonna take several tons of cocaine off the street, which is a bargaining chip in the afterlife, and, uh, let's just face it, you're probably gonna need that.

Mike?

(sighs)

God have mercy on your soul.

All right, all right.

All right.

A guy named Worm is cutting it at his place.

I don't know his real name, I swear.

Works out of a Chinese restaurant in Reseda.

So, you got a white supremacist working at a Chinese restaurant?

Guess you can never judge a... book by its cover.

Hey, hey, hey.

What about my drink?

This?

No, you can't... you can't drink in your condition.

I'm just kidding.

That's freaking apple juice!

You're a lying bastard!

I know, but the good news is, I lied about your burns, too.

They're only 25%.

You're gonna live.

Have fun in prison.

Oh, no! God!

Son of a bitch!

I think somebody needs their catheter changed.

I'll check.

(yelling)

(panting)

SAM: Be careful with that stuff.

It's highly corrosive.

(panting)

Matches? Lighter?

Nothing?

Do you?

Try not to inhale the smoke.

(panting)

You ready?

Light it up.

Fire in the hole.

(pop, hissing)

(beeping)

(rhythmic beeping)

What is that?

It's a fire.

(rhythmic beeping)

(hissing)

(fire roaring, hissing)

Now, G.

(grunting)

Move! Watch out.

It's not working.

(grunts)

(rhythmic beeping)

The hull has been breached.

That is a leak alarm.

They put a hole in the ship?

Even if that chamber fills with water, it won't affect us or our mission.

Move what you can into the stern to counterbalance.

Go.

Yeah.

(rhythmic beeping)

(metallic tapping)

(water pouring)

What are you doing?

Morse code.

The Navy's got to be listening.

Sorry I interrupted your little game of, uh, Candy Crush there.

I'm writing a letter to Michelle and the kids.

We're getting out of here, Sam.

In case we don't.

Well, tell her I d*ed saving your life, will you?

You're joking about a letter my family's gonna read after I'm dead.

Too soon?

What's wrong with you?

Never heard of black humor?

Are you trying to make me angry?

'Cause if you are, it's working.

Good.

I need you angry.

But not at me. At them.

'Cause sooner or later, they're gonna open that hatch, and when they do, we need to be ready to roll.

Was that your plan?

There's no way they're gonna open that hatch and risk flooding the bridge.

That's just stupid.

Trust me. I got a good feeling about this plan.

You remember when I told you that the CO2 level buildup will start affecting your ability to think straight?

Well, it's happening.

Either they open that hatch, and we go out f*ring...

Or we sink.

Or the Navy picks up on my Morse Code.

Then they torpedo us, and we sink.

Either way, we're not letting them get to San Diego, right?

Right.

(metallic tapping)

What are they doing?

JABRIL: Those are the sounds of desperate men.

(tapping continues)

No.

I think that's Morse code.

They're trying to alert their Navy.

The flooding is slowing us down even more.

(beeping)

JABRIL: They must have disconnected the bilge pump.

We can't risk surfacing.

Divert as much power as you can to the engines.

Shut off everything else.

Lights?

Lights, air, everything.

(sighs)

(whirring down)

I understand, sir.

I was on my way back to Washington...

Yes, sir.

I will, sir.

Deeks has got an alias and a possible location for the dr*gs.

Guy's name is Worm, aka Richard Miller.

He works at The Great Wall restaurant on Sherman Way in Reseda.

Alert the others.

Uh, he also got the name of someone who may have paid for the sub-- Jabril.

But, uh, it's pretty common, and I don't have a surname.

And?

And I also picked up a Naval transmission.

COM-Third-Fleet has launched the alert 30 ASW package with two H-60s and a P8A Poseidon sub hunter, call sign Talon Five-Five.

Hetty, they have ord... Have orders to locate and destroy the submarine.

I know.

What can we do?

Pray... loud and hard.

(Ali speaks native language)

He requires no prayers.

It is permissible.

It is disrespectful.

We need no Salat, no Ghusl, no Kafan.

We will be buried in our blood and clothes because the Shaheed is resurrected on Yawm Al-Din.

And the smell of our blood will be like the sweetest-smelling musk.

Wire the detonators.

(speaking native language)

So, we got a couple cars in the back in the... alley. What the hell happened to you two? You get in a catfight?

Don't be stupid.

Seriously.

You run into more skinheads?

Yes.

No.

Don't worry about it.

Are they in there?

I didn't get close enough.

There's a dog.

You're afraid of dogs?

I'm not talking about, like, a King Charles spaniel.

This thing looked like a freaking hyena.

Actually, you know what?

It maybe have been a hyena.

Was it laughing at you?

Oh.

(laughter)

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

I don't... I don't like this.

I don't like that.

Not at all.

Not one bit.

KENSI: All right.

We'll take the front, you guys breach the back on our count.

Sounds good.

Okay?

Am I missing something?

Yes, it's called a cerebral cortex.

(Kensi giggles)

(Kensi and Deeks gasping)

Sorry, we are not open yet.

Oh, no.

We're not here to eat.

I just want to look at this place for our wedding reception.

We're getting married.

Congratulations.

DEEKS: Oh, thank you.

To be completely honest, I thought she'd never ask.

What? He's kidding.

He's just a kidder.

DEEKS: Uh, guilty as charged.

I asked her, but only after her sister turned me down.

Would you stop it? She's gonna think you're serious.

It's not as bad as it sounds, Madge.

They're identical twins, and you can only marry one at a time in this state, and I wanted a trophy wife, so, second place it is.

(laughs)

Second place!

You're going to make a beautiful bride.

I agree.

Mm. Thank you.

But you have to come back to speak to the manager.

I don't book these things.

KENSI: Okay, that's okay. We can just take a quick look around. I...

Sorry, no.

No. I can't have anyone in here right now.

You are going to have to leave.

I talked to Richard, Madge, and he said that you would take good care of us.

Who?

Richard Miller, aka Worm?

That name doesn't ring a bell.

Oh, really?

'Cause it...

Uh, uh, uh...

Uh, uh, put down the scissors. Put 'em down.

Talia, we're a go.

Put down the scissors.

KENSI: Federal agents! Hands up!

(grunting)

On your knees!

On your knees!

On your knees now.

All clear.

Wow. Remind me never to get between you two.

Not when you're armed, at least.

Ooh, 100 keys here, easy.

We good?

Yeah.

KENSI: Hetty, we secured the dr*gs.

They were still cutting 'em.

Looks like it's all here. Hetty?

I'm afraid we have another problem.

What sort of problem?

ERIC: The Navy is hunting for the sub.

And so they should be.

HETTY: With orders to destroy on contact.

DEEKS: Well, then, you got to make a phone call and buy us some time.

I'm afraid I've used up all my favors in Washington.

I'm persona non grata at the moment.

What about the assistant director?

KENSI: Callen and Sam are on that sub, sir.

GRANGER: I'm well aware of that, Blye.

I will do anything to get my people back, but this isn't about them.

Then what's it about?

It's about what they may be planning on doing with it.

NELL: The USS Van Buren has 508 officers, 3,789 enlisted men on board.

GRANGER: It also has two nuclear reactors, 75 aircraft and three million gallons of aviation fuel.

Not to mention all the armament that goes on those planes and the weapons on the ship.

DEEKS: You got to get us out there, we got to do something.

Like what?

KENSI: Anything.

Can-Can we get a chopper?

No, probably not.

But I can.

Grab your gear.

Nice.

Thank you, Owen.

PILOT: Stand by to launch sonobouy in three, two, one.

Launch.

We're diving.

I'm not sure.

No, I can feel it.

(sighs) As the bow takes on water it pitches forward.

They'll try to compensate, but the extra drag and weight-- that'd take more power.

Power they don't have since we disconnected the batteries.

We may be able to travel forward bow down without diving, but eventually the weight'll win out.

We'll drop like a rock, G.

I love it when a plan comes together.

And that's where you say, uh, "I pity the fool that messes with me."

I'm starting to think I'd have been better off with Deeks.

(loud thumping)

The hell was that?

That was outside.

Depth charge.

They know we are here.

We are invisible to the infidels.

Allah Akbar.

Allah Akbar.

(muffled): Allah Akbar.

It's probably a sonobouy.

It's command activated to gauge range, bearing and Doppler information on active sonar contacts.

Meaning the next expl*si*n's a torpedo?

If they pinged us.

Let's make sure they do.

(clanging)

(clanging)

Hey.

You all right?

I'm fine.

All that muscle mass... takes up a lot of oxygen.

If we get out of here... you might want to think about taking up Pilates.

How about you stop talking to conserve air.

They're gonna open that hatch any second now.

They better.

'Cause that's about all we've got left.

How close are we?

NELL: We have no idea what heading they're on, but based on the max speed of the sub, you should be approaching the furthest they could have gotten.

But it's a wide arc.

Beale, can you patch us into the Navy search aircraft?

I can try.

Hell, I can try.

I need you to actually do it.

Yes, sir.

(coughing)

(gasping)

(wheezing): What happens now?

I think this is where you come up with a plan.

Isn't it your turn to save us?

The flooding is causing the bow to sink.

We don't have enough power to counter it.

We have to pump the water out or we're never gonna make it.

If we open the hatch, we'll flood the bridge.

We shut off the electricity.

We use the manual controls.

Then we pump the water out.

After we k*ll them.

Kensi, you need to circle back, you've gone further than the sub could have traveled in this amount of time.

Copy that.

Let's turn around.

I've got a transmission from the P8A.

Let's hear it.

PILOT: COM-Third-Fleet, this is Talon Five-Five, we have acoustic contact with unidentified sub track designated

Whiskey One Tango Zero.

COM-THIRD-FLEET: Talon Five-Five, copy.

Set weapons posture one, weapons status tight.

k*ll track Whiskey One Tango Zero.

PILOT: COM-Third-Fleet, this is Talon Five-Five.

Roger, out.

(click)

Lord have mercy.

Aah!

k*ll them.

(alarm beeping)

(gasps)

Ali.

(grunts)

(alarm beeping)

(grunts)

Can we get this thing to the surface?

Ah.

It took on too much water and the power's out.

Our only hope is a free ascent.

We're not gonna be able to open that hatch till the sub fills with water, the pressure equalizes.

We got to flood it.

Right before we open the hatch, you have to take in as much air into your lungs as you can and then scream all the way to the surface.

Doesn't sound very manly.

If you don't, the air will expand and your lungs will explode.

(laughs)

Let's go, move.

Yes, I understand the thr*at, Admiral, but I have two agents aboard that vessel and I'm just asking you to try to disable it as opposed to sinking it.

(man speaking indistinctly over phone)

Yes, sir.

I understand, sir.

PILOT: All stations, we are weapons release on my mark.

In three, two, one.

Torpedo away.

♪ ♪

(expl*si*n)

Deeks.

COM-Third-Fleet, this is Talon Five-Five.

Sub track Whiskey One Tango Zero engaged and destroyed.

Oh, my God.

(both gasping)

(chuckles) You still thinking about getting that boat?

You think that's funny, huh?

It's pretty funny.

You remember to grab your car keys back there?

Son of a bitch. Son of a bitch.

(laughing)

Looks like we're swimming home and walking home.

(helicopter blades whirring)

Maybe not.

Hey!

Hey!

Hey!

Hey!

PILOT: We got survivors in the water.

Sam, Callen.

KENSI: You guys, we got them.

I can see them.

ERIC: Come again, Kensi?

KENSI: Callen and Sam are alive.

I repeat: Callen and Sam are alive.

They're in the water.

Thanks.

So you're not going to the boatshed?

I sent Nell.

So what should I tell Washington when they call to find out where you are?

I've always been partial to the truth.

You know, I'm not sure they know what that is or even care anymore.

Do you ever feel you're getting too old for this?

Yeah.

Every damn day.

Looks like you might have ruptured an eardrum.

What?

You're both lucky you weren't k*lled by the concussion.

Damn lucky.

I just came by, you guys, to make sure you're okay.

Glad you're doing well.

Oh, yeah, We do this sort of thing all the time.

God, don't tell me that.

(Talia laughs)

Oh, never fear, Dr. Deeks is here.

Nerd Herd, you want to grab some, uh, pint glasses over there?

All right.

So, uh, how are my little mermaids?

Okay, on that note, I should get going.

But, um, guys, thank you for everything.

It was, uh, it was a pleasure working with you.

You-- so good to meet you.

Yeah. Hey.

I'll give you a call, we'll get together.

We'll, uh, talk about...

Oh, yeah.

(mumbles)

That's... Oh.

(laughs)

Okay.

(short laugh)

What?

What was that?

KENSI: Aw, don't worry about it.

Deeks, what are you doing?

We got cervezas and we have, uh, dark rum.

No.

Yeah. Yes.

Yes.

No.

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, we have...

Depth Charges.

You're ridiculous.

Give me one.

(laughs)

To, um...

Partners.

Friends.

Friends.

Friends and partners.

Friends and partners.

Three, two, one.

Aah... Go!

Oh, yeah.

DEEKS: Oh, God, that is... that is delicious.

SAM: Damn.