02x11 - b*llet + Pen

[bunniefuu]

57, 56, 55, 54, 53, 52, 51... Are you really gonna count every floor on the way down?

I used to do this as a kid.

I thought it'd keep the elevator from stopping.

Well, I can assure you right now, it doesn't work.

You just had to interrupt the flow, didn't you, huh? Don't.

This stoppage is on you, dude.

No. Yes, it is.

Merry Christmas.

Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas.

Merry Christmas.

Come on in.

It's okay. Come on.

Isn't he supposed to be carrying the bag?

Right. Right.

Yeah. Here you go, Santa.

There's your bag.

Santa?

Why are you in our elevator?

Well...

Funny thing about apartment buildings is they don't have fireplaces.

Your bag is moving and making noise.

That is a new toy.

T-Tickle Me Tony.

Tickle Me Tony. Can you turn that off, Rudolph?

Yeah, where is that on-off switch again?

I got it. Think that's got it.

Excuse me, ma'am. Go, go, go.

J-Just so you know, we're not weird.

We're the good guys.

So you got it?

Cool. I was worried somebody else would find it.

First time I ever used a dead drop to send a Christmas gift.

I'm glad you like it.

Can't wait to see what you got me.

I'll call you the moment I have it in hand.

I miss you, too.

Who do you miss?

My, uh... dad!

He was just making sure I didn't need any... pastrami help.

Which reminds me, Ms. Davis, last year, I never got a chance to finish telling you about the Bozer family tradition of Christmas pastrami.

How about you don't tell it, and we keep this tradition going?

You know what I mean?

And deprive you of all of this yuletide joy?

No way!

No, you know you like it.

Now, we all know Christmas is the most wonderful time of the year.

It makes you feel...

I'm just saying.

Why do you do this every year, dude?

Prove he's not real.

Santa is not real, okay?

You nerd. Thanks.

And please, spare me your math that claims to support his existence. It's annoying.

Thank you.

You're not a grown man who believes in Santa, are you?

I'm a grown man who cannot rule out the existence of Santa.

Two different things. 'Cause if you think about it...

...the rotation of the Earth, different time zones, and the latest research into Einstein-Rosen bridges...

You've been on this Santa kick forever.

When I found out that Jack didn't believe in Santa, I derived some equations to help change his mind, but the math only confused him more.

Okay, so you know what this doofus does, huh?

He breaks into my apartment dressed as Big Red, sets up a tree, and crams a bunch of gifts underneath there.

Yeah, but he caught me before I could finish.

Well, be honest, Jack.

Did you think it was Santa? Even for a moment?

If he took a year and went on a juice cleanse, yeah.

I had a pillow under my coat.

You looked pregnant.

So it didn't, it didn't really work?

No, man, I thought he was an intruder.

He almost sh*t me.

Yeah, you're lucky you didn't get sh*t, okay?

Now, listen, even if the Red Reindeer Rancher is real, breaking and entering is still a felony.

In some progun states, it's best just to leave those gifts right there on the front porch. Know what I'm saying?

What about you?

Oh, like, do I believe in Santa?

Yeah. I have yet to see proof, but I keep an open mind.

See? Come on.

You guys hungry?

Ah, yeah, bring on the eats.

Okay. This is so lovely, guys.

I haven't been home to see my sister in years, so this is my first Christmas in a long time with, um...

Family? Go ahead. You can say it.

If you don't, they're gonna make you. They made me.

That's what we are, after all, as crazy as it sounds.

I will drink to that. I will, too.

Cheers, guys.

Cheers. Cheers.

Hey, there she is.

What's wrong, boss?

I'm sorry, guys, but Christmas is on hold.

What?

Why?

Because we have a problem. What kind of problem?

You know that b*mb that you built last week?

Which one?

The one he exploded in Angola when our cover got blown or the one in L.A. when we, uh, went with the bad intel?

Los Angeles. Mm-hmm.

It appears that our intel was even more incomplete than we realized.

That building wasn't empty.

The maintenance man, a civilian named George Ramsey, d*ed when a section of the wall collapsed on him.

I'm sorry. Are you saying that I k*lled a civilian?

No, no, wait a minute.

I cleared that building myself.

It was empty. Don't start playing the blame game...

The game's already started, Jack.

The LAPD has a warrant for your arrest, Mac.

They're on their way here now.

What?

No, this is crazy.

So how do we get Mac out of this?

I don't know.

You don't know? Well, guess what, that's not good enough.

I assure you, Jack, that calls will be made.

But right now, this is happening.

And we all need to maintain our covers.

Don't-don't-don't worry, Mac, we'll get you out of this.

You hear me?

I promise.

Angus MacGyver? Yes.

You're under arrest for the m*rder of George Ramsey.

You have the right to remain silent.

Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.

You have the right to an attorney.

If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed for you by the court.

What were you doing in that warehouse, Mr. MacGyver?

You don't feel like talking?

That's okay.

You just sit back and relax. I'll show you some pictures.

This is what it looks like when someone drops a building on you.

The man you k*lled was married.

Two kids.

Six and eight.

Worked three jobs just to provide.

You got somewhere to be?

Look at me.

I said look at me.

There ain't gonna be no Christmas miracle for you, pal.

You're here.

For good.

So you might as well start talking.

Okay, Mac can't say anything.

Okay, no matter what the cops throw at him, he cannot reveal that he's a covert agent working for the U.S. government.

m*rder charges are bad, but violating the Espionage Act?

Way worse.

I covered all of our digital tracks and scrubbed all the cameras.

What evidence could they possibly have?

You tell me. You're the tech nerd in this mod squad.

Can't you use that thing to cr*ck LAPD's system?

At least find out what they have on our boy?

What do you think I'm trying to do, Jack?

Well, what's taking you so long?

You cracked the damn NSA quicker than this.

Yeah, the NSA was one system, and it was up to date.

The LAPD is at least 20 different systems, and some of them are ancient.

I'm trying to teach myself Fortran.

If you knew what that was, you'd be as frustrated as I am.

Okay, look. We know that whatever the cops have on Mac, it was enough for them to find him and arrest him.

We need to go back...

What we need to do is go in there and get him right now, forcibly, if need be.

He did the same thing for me two weeks ago.

I owe him one.

Yeah, Jack, he did... in Yemen, after you were arrested under a cover ID.

Mac was arrested under his own name at his own house.

Whatever.

Riley, cr*ck the LAPD network and at least see what evidence they got against Mac and just erase it! Right now, just do it.

Erasing all the evidence is not gonna make this go away.

They're gonna wonder how this happened.

Oh, come on, y'all. Seriously?

Do you know how many rescue operations we've planned in this very room?

This is Mac we're talking about here.

Busting him out's gonna be no different than any other mission.

Except it is different, Jack.

How?! Because... there's no exfil at the end of this.

Okay?

We can't just break Mac out and walk away.

And the LAPD is not the enemy. They're just doing their job.

Yeah, and so was he, Cage.

Just doing his job.

And listen, everyone single one of us got him in this hot spot, and we're gonna get him out.

Now, Riley, pretty please with sugar on top, will you work faster?

Matty, with all due respect, go work the phones. Please.

Okay.

Can somebody help me bring up the action reports on this thing?

Or I'm gonna rip it right off the wall right now.

Please.

b*mb squad said it was a very powerful IED, made out of stuff that was just lying around.

Where does a guy learn to build something like that, I wonder?

Your ex just called.

Figured. I've been sending her calls to voice mail for the last six hours.

Yeah, well, spoiler alert, she is pissed.

So what else is new?

She wanted to know if you're taking the girls to the Christmas parade tomorrow.

Depends on this guy, and if he ever decides to open his mouth.

Oh, I had Lorenzo run him through the system.

Here's everything we got so far on "boy band gone bad."

He's former U.S. Army, joined in 2009.

Honorable discharge in 2012.

The Oklahoma City bomber had one of those honorable discharges, too.

According to this, he was an EOD specialist.

Well, now we know where he learned to make IEDs.

If you can disarm a b*mb, you can definitely make one.

Yeah. Kid's got a pile of brains, too.

Dropped out of MIT right before joining up, been working a think t*nk since he shipped home.

Think tanks, huh?

What's he do there?

He's making more than us, probably.

Uh, currently employed by the Phoenix Foundation.

Before that he was at some place called DXS.

Shut down last year, not sure why.

Did you pull his phone records?

Calls and texts to his roommate, a few friends and this Phoenix Foundation.

Look, I didn't find any red flags.

You didn't, huh?

How many 20-somethings you know don't use their phone for days at a time?

Look at these gaps.

No calls, no texts, no data usage. Nothing.

He's got no credit card or bank activity during those periods, either.

It's like he just falls off the face of the Earth for days at a time.

Then he shows back up and buildings start exploding.

I'm telling you guys, I swept this building from top to bottom before Mac detonated that b*mb.

The place was empty.

I swear.

We heard you the first time, Jack, but the fact remains, it's a big building.

Maybe you missed someone.

Well, even if I did, Ri, you would've had them on thermal, right?

I wasn't using thermal.

We didn't know we were gonna have to do any of this, remember?

Wh-What I remember is Mac didn't k*ll anybody.

So, there's a good explanation for how this guy d*ed, period.

Look, I wasn't there, so I can be fresh eyes.

You want to just walk me through everything that happened, starting with when you first got the call for the mission?

Where was Mac? With me.

We were in the lab.

I see fear in your eyes.

Don't worry.

This will be over soon.

Oh, I'm scared... for you.

I know how much you hate to lose, so...

Said Venus right before Serena b*at her, like, a dozen times.

You wish you were Serena.

I've won every game today.

I am the Serena Williams...

...of ping-pong.

Curious.

Normally, MacGyver applies backspin to his sh*ts to ensure victory.

But not today.

Is an injury the reason you're not playing at full capacity?

Apologies.

Brah. What?

Have you been letting me win?

Of course not.

All right, yes.

A little bit, but only 'cause I was trying to cheer you up after Leanna.

Is this why you been insisting we hang out every night?

Look, I've been at this spy thing a long time.

After you lose someone, distractions can be a great thing.

Yeah, okay, but bowling, putt-putt, horror movie marathons?

I mean, come on, y-you didn't have to do all that.

Points on your bro game, MacGyver.

Shut up, Sparky.

Hey, man, just trying to be there for you.

You go to spy school, you meet the girl of your dreams and then you have to say good-bye to serve your country.

That can't be easy.

Yeah. It's been, uh...

...it's been rough.

Let me guess.

Matty, w*r Room, now.

Add a few more exclamation points and you hit the nail on the head.

That is a G36 as*ault r*fle.

German-made, highly lethal.

The CIA is tracking a shipment of these that were stolen from a plant in Berlin last week.

Oh, yeah, I know this g*n.

The f*ring rate on this bad boy is incredible. There's-there's hardly any recoil.

It's made of fiberglass, reinforced plastic.

It's light, strong.

Extremely deadly.

She's a growler.

Do you need a moment alone with the video, Dalton?

Can I continue?

Yeah, go ahead.

Can you move?

Yeah.

We just received intel that the shipment is gonna be sold on the black market, right here in our very own backyard.

I'm still trying to ID the seller, but we do know the weapons are being held in a warehouse outside of L.A. And since these g*ns are on U.S. soil, the CIA can't legally retrieve them.

Which is why they've come to us.

Exactly. We believe that the sale is going down within the next 48 hours.

Our mission is to recover the g*ns before the deal goes down and these weapons hit the streets, aimed at civilians and law enforcement.

You know what this is?

Of course he knows what it is.

He's just hoping we don't know what it is.

It's part of an as*ault r*fle.

German, G36.

Forensics found them all over the warehouse.

Which tells us there was a large shipment of them in the building.

Also tells us how you might've been supplementing your income these days.

You selling weapons, MacGyver? You some kind of wannabe arms dealer?

If you are, you're not a very good one, though.

Seems like bad business to destroy your own merchandise.

I'd say so.

And this... is what's left of the b*mb you made.

You learn that at EOD?

Or did you come up with this one by yourself?

You want to say anything now?

If I sound hoarse, it's because I just finished yelling at the CIA.

Officially, they won't accept any connection to this op.

Okay, then fun and games are over.

It's time for Oversight to bring in the sunglass squad.

You know, the ones with a get-out-of-jail-free-

'cause-I'm-a-secret-agent card? Those guys.

I already asked, Jack, and the answer is no.

These are the risks that we take when we choose to operate on U.S. soil.

And if the charges stick and Mac goes to jail, we have to let him. Let him?!

Go to jail?! How can this be happening?

The LAPD can't possibly have enough to charge him with m*rder.

That's you, exiting the warehouse that blew up.

You care to explain that?

Oh, take your time.

I'm sure it's surprising for you since all the security cameras in the area mysteriously got knocked out somehow. You didn't figure on the street-view car driving by as you left, huh?

The time stamp puts you right there, right about the time your b*mb exploded.

Oh, and we say "your b*mb" because we also found your fingerprints on what was left of it.

I want my phone call.

Now.

Oh, you don't get a phone call.

What do you mean I don't get a phone call?

You would, if we were just charging you with m*rder.

A b*mb you built blew up on U.S. soil, ending an innocent life and destroying a building.

This isn't just about m*rder anymore.

We're charging you with domestic terrorism.

Strange, isn't it?

Each man's life touches so many other lives.

When he isn't around, he leaves an awful hole, doesn't he?

What do you mean, Mac doesn't get a phone call?

The suspect always gets a phone call.

I know, right? No, not right.

Not when the charge is domestic terrorism.

The Patriot Act allows law enforcement to suspend the rights of suspected t*rrorists indefinitely. Okay? And it sounds like they have enough to make these charges stick.

Okay. So, now do I have your permission to go bust him out of there?

If you want Mac to spend the rest of his life on the run from the entire U.S. intelligence agency, then go for it.

But if you want to clear him of these charges, we need to prove that he didn't k*ll George Ramsey.

How?

You just said the LAPD has all this evidence.

Maybe they're looking at it wrong.

Maybe we can use the same evidence to clear his name once we get access to it. I think she's talking to you, Riley. Let's go.

Guys, I'm typing as fast as I can.

Then type faster.

Okay, the longer that we let Mac sit in there, the longer the cops have to fit the evidence to their story and paint Mac as a t*rror1st.

Special Agent Whittaker, FBI.

You guys don't waste any time.

Not when it comes to terrorism.

We'll give you another hour to complete your interrogation.

Then he's ours.

I'm not who you think I am.

If you're innocent, tell us who you are.

Not an arms dealer.

Not a t*rror1st.

I guess we can tack on "Making False Statements" and "Obstruction of Justice" to the charges.

What you are, Mr. MacGyver, is a jigsaw puzzle.

The picture on the box looks good, but lift the lid and all you'll find inside are a bunch of broken pieces.

Your mom d*ed when you were five.

Dad left when you were ten.

Lots of people lose their parents.

But they don't all burn down their high school football stadium.

That was an accident.

Or a clue... to who you would ultimately become.

In my experience, highly intelligent children with abandonment issues, a history of arson and an abnormal obsession with expl*sives don't usually wind up doctors and lawyers.

You've spent your whole life looking for somewhere to put all that anger.

It's just too bad we didn't catch you before all that rage cost an innocent man his life.

There is only one way forward.

You have to tell the truth, son.

I am telling you the truth, Matty.

We cleared that whole building before we found those r*fles.

That place was empty.

Tell that to the dead guy they found in the rubble.

Dead guy?

What if the victim was already dead inside the building when Mac and Jack got there? Yeah.

Yeah, that might explain why I missed him.

It's a good theory, but we need proof.

Okay, let's go over every detail of what happened in that warehouse.

Maybe we can find some.

Okay, let's start at the beginning. Where were you guys?

I was in the van, knocking out all the security cameras in the area.

I had eyes on the street, looking out for any surprise visitors.

Me and Mac did a sweep of the warehouse exterior.

I don't believe you.

Why would I lie about that?

Because, dude, you make up stuff all the time.

Excuse me? Ten lords a-leaping.

That's the tenth day of Christmas.

Mm-mm, I... doesn't sound right.

Okay, sing it.

I'm not gonna sing it. It's stupid.

You know what? Christmas was just made up by Mattel to sell Hot Wheels, anyway.

Santa's just a bloated brand ambassador.

Actually, "Christ's Mass" was first celebrated in Rome in 336, about a thousand years before Mattel started making Hot Wheels.

That-that proves two things:

One, brainwashing works and two, you make stuff up, dude.

It do... I-I don't care.

Just let's get on with the B&E.

Hurry up.

Four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves and a partridge?

That's a lot of birds, man.

That's a disappointing first four days.

If you're my true love, give me them five rings on the first day.

I'll wear one, pawn the other four.

Get the whole family whatever they want for Christmas.

Are you still talking?

Hey, whoa, whoa, wait, wait.

Dude, what's the matter with you?

What?

What are you doing?

I'm propping the door open.

Why? So we can sneak those g*ns out through the same entrance we came in, dumb-dumb.

You're not the only one who can think up stuff on the fly, all right?

I got a brain on me.

All you did was grab a cinder block...

You know what?

Great job.

What did you see when you got in?

Nothing special.

Just a regular old warehouse.

I swept the building, clearing it room by room while we searched for those g*ns.

But then, new players entered the game.

Guys, I got an 18-wheeler inbound, with an escort. Two sedans.

They're still a ways out, but they're definitely headed our way.

It must be transport for the weapons.

The deal we thought was happening in 48 hours?

I think it's going down now.

Mac, Jack, just grab the g*ns and get the hell out of there.

Love to, Riley.

Really would. Just one teensy little problem.

Yeah, the deal isn't just sooner than we expected, it's bigger.

Way bigger.

This is way more g*ns than we can just grab and go.

I don't suppose you can make a forklift out of any of this stuff laying around, could you?

You know what?

I could build an expl*sive to melt these down, rendering them useless.

Ooh. I love that idea.

But the blast could damage the structural integrity of the building, bringing it down on us.

I hate that idea.

With the amount of time we have, I don't see any other option.

All right, well, you do your thing, kid.

I'll see if I can buy us some time, yeah?

So I went to barricade the door with the cinder block, you know, to try slow those bad guys down while Mac cooked up the boom-boom sauce.

What did you do after you barricaded the door?

Well, yeah, that's... that's the thing.

When I got there, the door was closed.

Somebody must've... moved the cinder block.

Why didn't you mention this before?

I don't know, Cage, it didn't really register.

I was trying to keep those guys at bay.

I was planning on passing out a lot of knuckle sandwiches.

Cinder blocks don't just move by themselves, Jack.

I know. Someone must've entered the warehouse after you did.

Someone like George Ramsey.

Or whoever k*lled him.

Well, we need to find out.

Riley, how's it coming with the LAPD hack? Yep, hang on.

Finally found the right computer.

Just need to find his case file, and...

That's him?

That's the victim?

That's George Ramsey?

Yeah. Why?

I've seen that guy before. Where?

I'll help you, Jack.

Headed to the back door now.

But if George Ramsey was driving away when the building came down, then... then Mac didn't k*ll him.

Means someone else did, and they got his body and put it in the warehouse.

But who? And why?

Well, that's what we're gonna figure out.

That's how we're gonna save Mac.

This interview's over. I'd like a word alone with my client. Whoa, who the hell are you?

You can't just barge in here. Roger Preston, attorney at law. I'm surprised you don't recognize me from my client's Christmas party you so rudely interrupted.

Your client is being held on suspicion of domestic terrorism.

That doesn't abrogate his Sixth Amendment right to counsel as affirmed by Hamdi v. Rumsfeld.

Look it up.

So are we gonna continue to violate said rights, or can I have that word alone I requested?

Did I say "please"? Please?

Fine.

But I'd advise your client to cooperate with us. Thank you, Detective.

I'll take it from here.

You do great work, gentlemen.

Appreciate you.

Can't believe that actually worked.

I really hope you know what you're doing.

Don't worry, Riley cut the, uh, cameras and the speakers to the observation room, so we're all good. Besides, whatever we talk about falls under lawyer-client confidentiality, so...

That was impressive.

Where'd you learn all that legalese?

Oh, Matty. She made me memorize it phonetically.

I have no earthly idea what I just said.

So, like I said, Riley hacked the LAPD network, gave your file a little look-see, and that's when Bozer said he saw that dude, the victim, leaving the warehouse, before it went kaboom.

Really? He wasn't in the...

I didn't k*ll him?

No, you didn't k*ll him. Of course not.

But we still have to prove it.

That's where your EOD training comes in, okay?

You have to prove that a guy found dead inside of a building was actually alive outside of it before the b*mb went off.

Get me?

Go.

My tie straight?

Wait a second.

That's where they found the body?

Yeah. He's way too close.

Yeah, well, that's kind of the problem, now, isn't it?

No, I mean, he couldn't have been that close to the blast when the b*mb went off.

Look. This guy, he should be covered, at that distance, in secondary blast injuries.

Hundreds of tiny little wounds caused by flying debris.

But he doesn't have any.

Hmm. I don't know where George Ramsey d*ed, but it wasn't there.

Whoever k*lled George brought in his body and covered him in debris.

Webber. Dalton here.

Hey, our boy figured it out.

He confirmed he didn't do it.

Speaker.

Right.

Okay, but Mac can't exactly serve as an expert witness at his own trial.

In order to clear him, we have to find the real k*ller.

Yeah, well, how are we supposed to do that? It's not like we have a ton of leads.

Actually, I might have one.

Yeah.

All right, I-I never really know if I'm gonna find what I need to make... well, whatever it is I need.

But this time, I got lucky.

Too lucky.

Matches...

...and aluminum foil are everywhere.

But sodium hydroxide?

Doesn't exactly grow on trees.

Neither does tin foil.

N-Not to nitpick, but that doesn't grow on trees.

I was in a hurry, calculating exothermic reaction rates in my head, so I didn't really think about it at the time.

But along with sodium hydroxide, I also found... cold medicine and nail polish remover, which can only mean one thing.

You know, Mac, as much as I love it when you launch into a lecture I barely understand, but we're kind of on the clock here, so what's the point?

Methamphetamine, Jack.

Nail polish remover, cold medicine and sodium hydroxide are all key ingredients in the synthesis of meth.

Wait a minute, now. What you're saying is, our badass group of international arms dealers is really a not so badass group of low-rent methamphetamine dealers?

No.

Not low-rent. Not anymore.

The meth business in the U.S. has changed.

A recent run of DEA busts left a manufacturing hole that the La Ola Cartel stepped in to fill.

When I first dug into the warehouse, I hit a nest of shell companies, which led me to warehouse owner H. Ruiz.

But searching just "H. Ruiz" turned up over 20,000 hits.

Now that I know those shells are tied a Mexican drug cartel, I can search H. Ruiz in the DEA database, and...

...here's Hector Ruiz.

A lieutenant in La Ola, and owner of the warehouse in question.

If the cartel owned the warehouse, then George Ramsey worked for them.

And maybe he was more than just a maintenance man.

Maybe he kept an eye on all of their contraband.

But when we broke in...

He knew he was outnumbered, so instead of protect the stash, he bugged out on his bike.

Almost running me over in the process.

So the cartel k*lled him as punishment for fleeing, and then dumped his body in the rubble.

Oh, hell, yeah.

What?

Oh, this is all starting to make sense.

Now all we need is proof to convince Joe Thursday out there.

Hey, I tell you what.

Matty, I'm gonna come back to the Phoenix, and we're gonna go have a heart-to-heart with this Hector Ruiz fella, yeah?

Good idea, Jack.

All right.

And you... sit tight.

When I come back, we're gonna be leaving here.

Together.

Time to get into character.

Somebody say "action"?

Action?

There it is.

Good talk, I'll see you in court.

Clear.

Clear.

Clear!

Clear.

Hector's not home, boss.

Toss this place.

I want to know where this guy is right now.

Well, you were right.

Something was definitely off about that lawyer.

His Web site and address check out, but I called a friend over in the DA's office.

No one's ever heard of "Roger Preston, attorney at law."

So either MacGyver's lawyer never once crossed paths with the DA's office...

Or he's not a lawyer at all.

I called the bar association.

There's no Roger Preston registered in California.

I think it's time we had a little talk with him.

All right.

Not in there.

Been in there too long.

He's too comfortable.

Is the basement still being renovated?

Well, if you call the department running out of money and abandoning the project

"still being renovated," sure. Place is a mess, though.

No one's been down there for weeks.

Sounds perfect.

Okay. I got some kind of weird printer here.

That's an ID card printer.

With the right software, you can make a...

What is it?

Guy made himself a fake police ID.

We need to get to Mac.

We can't do that without breaking cover.

I don't care. Mac's life is more important.

Jack, go save our boy.

Yes, ma'am.

Go ahead, Officer Rivera.

Pardon our dust.

He's all yours.

Maybe you can get more out of him than I did.

Cover, cover, cover!

Friend of yours?

He's here to k*ll me.

He's La Ola Cartel.

They own the warehouse.

So now you start talking.

Where's your w*apon?

It's locked in my desk.

Mine, too. We got about 20 seconds before our friend figures that out.

But we still have b*ll*ts.

What good are b*ll*ts with no g*n?

You wanted to know who I am.

Let me show you.

Actually, I'm gonna need everything that you guys have. Thank you.

Okay, what exactly are you gonna do?

Save our lives...

I hope.

Ah, excuse me.

Hand over your suspect!

And you can both go home tonight.

It's a win-win for everyone.

Everyone except the blonde guy.

Hold it, right there.

What the hell was that?

An exploding dart.

Made with gunpowder and a blasting cap taken from a b*llet and a ballpoint pen.

Don't worry.

They're with me.

We're charging Ruiz with the m*rder of George Ramsey and three FBI agents.

And we got an anonymous e-mail, detailing both the cartel's methamphetamine and arms dealing operations.

Which suggests... the blast that brought down their warehouse was just another meth lab expl*si*n.

And as for you...

We could charge you with impersonating an officer of the court and obstruction of justice.

Who, me?

But we're gonna give you a warning instead.

You're both free to go.

That is a Christmas miracle.

One last question, though... Yep.

What is it you do, exactly?

I sell bathroom tile. I work at a think t*nk.

Merry Christmas, Mr. MacGyver.

Merry Christmas, Detective Greer.

Turner.

Okay, that's right.

I sent Cage in as a "social worker" to talk to Ruiz.

She convinced him to flip on the cartel.

He's laying out the entire operation for us.

Way to go, Cage.

Yeah, the day keeps getting better and better, doesn't it?

And what better way to celebrate... than with some reheated Christmas pastrami.

It's like fine wine, it... it only gets better with age.

Okay, I'm sorry.

Christmas pastrami?

I mean, who eats pastrami on Christmas?

Ha. Well, I'm-I'm glad you asked, Matilda.

See, it all started back in '93 in a little place called Mission City, during a freak snowstorm.

I was a little child... Yeah, I'm out.

Yeah, I would love to hear the rest of that story.

I'm sure that's delicious.

Uh, another time.

You and me.

So, I was a little boy...

See what the old Chimney Slider brought you this year, Ri.

Oh, man.

This is from your dad.

And this... this is from me.

It's not breakable.

Your, uh, your wrapping skills could use some work.

Yeah, well, not to sound like an after-school special, but it's the thought that counts.

Merry Christmas.

Thanks, Jack.

Welcome.

Where's Mac and Cage?

I don't know where Mac is, but I think Cage went to her place to get everybody's gifts.

Mac?

Are you seriously trying to repeat what you did with Jack?

Mac?

Murdoc.

Last time I sh*t you, you were wearing a vest.

Not this time.

I'll leave you to die now.

Heard the good news about Hector.

Only you can get arrested for m*rder and end up taking down a major cartel, Mac.

I got you something.

What is it?

Open it up.

Paper clips.

Hey.

I know that I put the kibosh on your sculptures when I took over, but, if they help you to think...

I think it's time to let MacGyver be MacGyver.

You sure?

With everything that just happened, I...

I don't know.

I'm beginning to wonder if the way that I do things...

Okay, I'm gonna stop you right there.

I know that I had my doubts about you at first.

But you convinced me to ignore them.

All of them.

And I am so glad that you did.

Because now, there's no one that I trust more than you, Mac.

That kind of trust... we should probably be honest with each other, right?

Mac... this gift wasn't under the tree yesterday... and it's for you.

This is from my dad.

How do you know?

This wrapping paper, he used it on the last gift that he gave me.

I just, I know. Um...

If you guys don't mind, I-I, uh...

I need to do this alone.

Cage?

Cage?