05x05 - Scan Man

Episode transcripts for the TV show "Numb3rs". Aired: January 2005 to March 2010.*
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An FBI agent recruits his brother, a mathematics genius, to help solve crimes.
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05x05 - Scan Man

Post by bunniefuu »

♪♪

(computer chirps)

I've been staring at this stuff for so long, it's starting to make sense to me.

And our algorithm is closing in on the location.

Hey. Were you guys going to invite me to this party?

Oh, Charlie, this party got started a while ago.

While you were off on your sojourn in the wilds of moral ambiguity.

CHARLIE: Brute force data crunching.

What's being crunched?

A crew hitting Union Parcel trucks.

Guys have a taste for high-end electronics.

They've hit 23 trucks in five months.

NIKKI: Due to hit again, and the M.O. says today's the day.

Don and David are out on surveillance waiting for us to zero in on the location.

Error correcting code. That's an interesting choice.

Is that what you guys are using?

Yeah. Have been for weeks.

Why? Do you have a better idea?

No. Just different.

(trilling and beeps)

(beeps)

We've got five minutes.

Get in, get out.

All right. Got it.

And we're gonna need an address.

LIZ: Hey. I just got a call.

Backup alarm at the Union Parcel warehouse.

Brain trust has it covered.

Uh, nice map.

Wrong location.

Warehouse is downtown on Grand.

LARRY: Grand. That facility was on our list, but deprioritized.

NIKKI: Top of the list now, and Don, we got 'em.

(trilling)

How we doing, boys?

Last load going on.

Whoa, we got company. Lock it up.

Lock it up!

Get the hell out of there! Move!

Move! Move!

Let's go! Let's go! Let's go!

(alarm chirping)

(tires screeching)

(indistinct radio transmission)

Federal agents! Get your hands up!

g*n!

He's armed!

(g*nf*re)

POLICE DISPATCH: sh*ts fired! sh*ts fired! Units respond!

(indistinct radio transmission)

Check this out.

Two guys d*ed for a truckload of empty boxes.

(loud slamming)

(engine roaring)

Take your positions!

(g*nf*re)

(grunts) Fire!

(a*t*matic g*nf*re)

OFFICER: Get down!

Man down! Man down!

Stay down! Stay down!

Let's go!

(tires squealing)

(gasping groan)

DON: Get a medic! Get a medic!

What's up with your transfer?

It's down to Oklahoma City or Denver.

Won't know for a while.

Either way, I guess, my surfing days are over.

Hey, what have you got?

Delivery truck our bad guys used to get away found four blocks from the scene.

No prints.

They had a backup vehicle. Pros.

Except this time our pros tried to haul away 26 empty boxes.

Tracking numbers don't trace back to any senders.

Deliveries were all headed to dummy addresses.

They got to have someone on the inside.

Sure. That's the only way they're gonna get the info, right?

Somebody tell them which trucks to hit, which parcels to boost.

Finding the inside man is gonna be difficult, right?

Union Parcel has thousands of employees.

Large numbers always comes down to one guy, right?

OFFICER: Get a medic! Get a medic!

You okay?

How are we doing with ID'ing the dead guys?

DAVID: Nobody local, but we're casting a wider net.

They k*lled one of ours, right? Stay on it.

And, uh, see if you can find Charlie for me, would you?

DAVID: Okay.

ALAN: So, I was on the phone with your parents this morning.

Wow. You talk to them more than I do now.

Yes. They mentioned that.

They're coming to L.A. New Year's.

So, I thought maybe we'd throw them a party at our house.

Oh, no. Forget the house.

I've got an in with the maitre d' at Café Vicenza.

Yeah. I recommended his son for a JPL summer internship.

Kid totally deserved it.

DAVID: Hey, Charlie, need some help.

Yeah. Told him you were between classes.

Yeah, well, I'm not. I'm late for-for a class with Galuski.

I'll see you guys later.

See you, Dad. Come on in.

If you're looking for an inside man, it would seem the heisted trucks are our common denominator.

I think that we should try a Geographic Network.

Yeah. It's where I was going, too.

It's a tool used to track trends, like thieves stealing specific items from trucks.

The items themselves may lead us to where they're getting their information.

LARRY: That's right.

If we find our source, voilà, we find our provocateur.

It's like a garden.

If we know one type of insect -- say, a butterfly -- is attracted to one type of flower -- say a rose, then we can ignore all the other flowers until we find what we're looking for.

Unless, um... well, unless we don't find what we're looking for.

I mean, I'm not trying to horn in here, um, but a geographic network might also lead us to a false conclusion.

Maybe the flower isn't the attraction.

Maybe it's the nectar.

And the sweetest nectar exists in another area of the garden.

So, I think we should use a supply chain analysis.

You know, that'll help us focus on the larger data set.

The entire garden.

And it might lead us to the real thief.

This is one time the haystacks are gonna tell us more than the needles.

We got thousands of trucks, millions of parcels.

That is one large haystack, Charles.

The volume of data could bog us down.

Yeah, maybe, but maybe not.

So, um, go with me on this one.

Right. Go with haystack?

Immigration ID'd our two dead perps.

All right, so what we got here?

Michael Maloumian and Armin Talajian?

Tourist visas expired six months ago.

I think they did most of their touring on the Glendale Freeway.

They're part of a crew.

Boss's name is Lee Hagopian. Solid résumé.

Robbery, hijacking.

Based out of a strip club in Atwater.

Oh, yeah? Let me guess.

David's got the car all gassed up and ready to go.

Ah, he went to find Charlie. So, what about you?

Ah, come on. You're not gonna let a lady walk in there alone.

♪♪

Looks like the spaceship landed from Planet Dr. Phil.

Auditions were this morning.

You want to go undercover?

I'll let you pick out your own pole.

I'm sure you got enough of that yourself in Chino.

Friends of yours?

I've seen them around. Why?

They boosted a Union Parcel truck this morning, k*lled a federal agent.

News to me.

I've been here since 7:00.

Opened up my place.

I got a roomful of witnesses.

Yeah, I'm sure they were watching you.

Look, I'm a businessman.

I pull down seven figures here.

I got no interest in knocking over trucks.

You have any more questions, talk to my lawyer.

Maybe I see you around, and we'll see who the real bitch is.

I've busted g*ng bangers in Compton with little sisters that are ten times badder than you.

You will see me around.

♪♪

Hey.

Hey. What do you got?

Our common denominator. This is the link to the inside man.

Pears? Bartlett pears.

You know, Aunt Doris sends these every year -- yours is probably sitting in front of your apartment door right now.

Oh, joy.

So, it all starts here with the barcode smart label.

Everything you need to know about this package is encoded within this label -- its weight, insured value, where it's coming from, where it's going.

Sorting centers -- they use computers to scan barcodes to decide where packages are gonna go.

Problem is, if this barcode is ripped or wrinkled, or messed up in any way, computers can't process it.

Humans have to, and that package is designated as an exception.

Yeah? And so?

So, I found a package designated as an exception on every single truck that was robbed.

Now, hundreds of these pop up every day, but the odds of one being on every single truck that was heisted -- that being a coincidence...

Are about the same odds as me getting a date with Heidi Klum.

She won a Peabody Award. She's great.

Well, hold on. I mean, how exactly does this help us?

Well, there's one main sorting facility for packages moving through California.

It's in Irvine, right?

And there's only one office that handles exceptions.

So, whoever's leaking information on the trucks to the bad guys, sounds like it's coming from there.

(overlapping chatter, machines clacking)

NIKKI: Hell of an operation.

Well, we have facilities all over the country -- worldwide -- but this is our West Coast central hub.

I wish my morning commute went that smooth.

11,000 conveyor belts.

81 miles of track.

Our computers sort through three million parcels daily.

Except for the exceptions.

This... is where all that gets fixed.

Using data recovery software, we sort out the problems and issue a new smart label, sending the parcel on its way.

And putting it back on a truck.

Looks like your techs have access to information as to what else is on the trucks they're loading.

If this is about the truck heists, you're barking up the wrong tree.

People you see here... this is their first day on the job since July.

I don't follow.

I brought them in to fill in for my regular guy.

He's out sick.

You normally have one guy do all this?

Emerson Laidlaw.

We call him the Scan Man.

He can look at a barcode that's messed up and -- like magic -- figure it out.

Faster than a computer.

It's a gift.

A gift to me -- he's a prime suspect.

Emerson's not your guy.

How do you know that?

Five minutes with him, you'll see.

(rapping on door)

Mr. Laidlaw, FBI.

We'd like to talk to you.

(insistent pounding)

Emerson Laidlaw, FBI!

Open up!

(faint, steady humming inside)

Emerson?

Are you okay?

(humming grows louder)

He's barricaded himself inside.

Call LAPD.

You all right? Yeah, I'm good.

(shotgun blasting)

Emerson Laidlaw!

(grunting)

Emerson Laidlaw.

Emerson!

(humming continues)

(humming grows louder)

(humming loudly)

(humming mimicking roaring race cars)

DON: Do you understand that you've waived the right to counsel?

I don't... I don't trust lawyers.

I say no to lawyers.

NIKKI: We know that you've been using your position in the exceptions office to access shipping manifests in order to leak information to Hagopian's crew on which trucks to hit.

Leaks are bad news.

I say stop them before they start.

Hey, an FBI agent is dead.

Okay?

You are facing the death penalty.

I-I don't advocate v*olence.

A great man once said, "Make the most of yourself, for that is all there is of you."

I make the most of myself, but I don't advocate v*olence.

Look at me.

You make, what, 12 bucks an hour, right?

How is it you got half a million dollars in the bank?

I don't have a half a million dollars.

No, I have $511,108.23.

Tomorrow, it will be $511,157.24.

Compounded daily at our preferred introductory rate.

Hey, how you doing? I'm Don Eppes.

Hi. Tom Shorter.

Emerson Laidlaw's case worker.

I heard he was here. Yeah, that's right.

And being questioned without counsel.

He waived his rights.

My client is not competent to give consent.

I need to take him home right now.

Yeah, that's not gonna happen.

You've met the man.

Okay, he's hardly a flight risk.

I'll make sure he's available to you whenever you need him, 24-seven.

Well, I need him now.

Okay, well, I'll be back.

With a court order. Okay.

Yeah, this is Shorter, Family Services.

I need a legal consult.

LIZ: Family Services say he was flagged for a learning disability at age seven.

Mother homeschooled him.

She d*ed two days after his 19th birthday, left him a small inheritance.

What, half a mil? Nowhere near.

He's bounced around jobs, IT stuff.

The Union Parcel gig is his longest employment at four years.

Manager says he's a model employee.

24 truck heists, a pile of cash.

I say it's an act.

I'm not so sure about that -- let me have a moment with him.

All right, go for it.

Emerson, hi.

I'm, uh... I'm Charlie Eppes.

I'm a math professor.

Math is an excellent subject for me.

CHARLIE: Great.

Tell me how many paper clips... you see right there.

147.

What's 364 squared?

132,496.

CHARLIE: The square root of seven?

EMERSON: 2.645751311106.

"Make the most of yourself, for that is all there is of you."

Ralph Waldo Emerson.

"Self-Reliance."

I read that in school.

My mother read that to me every night at 9:00.

It's important to know, she said.

Knowing it is important.

Your mother named you after Emerson?

Yeah.

She said I'd never be alone.

Other Emersons...

Emerson Fittipaldi, race car driver.

Drove the McLaren M23 to three Formula One victories in 1974.

Won four more times, b*ating Clay Regazzoni for the championship.

Roy Emerson, tennis star, won 12 Grand Slam singles titles between 1961 and 1967.

BRADFORD: Look, I'm a police psychologist.

It's not really my field, but based on what I see, he shows signs of autistic spectrum disorder.

You said his apartment was full of stuff?

Oh, yeah, packed.

Obsessive-compulsive behaviors, you know, like hoarding can go hand-in-hand.

The capacity to do complex calculations, prodigious memory... yeah, he shows definite savant capabilities.

You know, and it's not like this is the first time I've seen this kind of thing, either, mathematical genius coupled with diminished social skills.

Don't say it. What?

Thing is, the students and professors I've come across at CalSci... they're all far more high-functioning.

He may be as well.

I mean, he's held a job, lived alone.

Under the pressure of interrogation, he may be regressing.

In a more comfortable setting, you might be able to get more out of him.

How do you explain the money? He's a hoarder -- whether it's a bank account or a room full of stuff, the mentality is the same.

Even a modest-paying job, after years of saving, he could amass a fortune.

I mean, he says he's the leak.

BRADFORD: I don't deny he's involved, but that man is incapable of plotting a crime.

Well, then, he's protecting someone.

You said he'd be more forthcoming in a more comfortable setting.

Maybe we can do something about that.

Oh, hey, uh, have you seen Charlie?

He left a voicemail while I was in class.

He asked me to pick up some saltines and, uh, Cheez Whiz at the market.

So he has you doing his shopping now.

Ever get the feeling we're just these celestial bodies orbiting Charlie?

Having trouble with our resident genius, are you?

Let's just say our collaborations haven't been so collaborative lately.

Oh... there's one thing I learned living with Charlie, and that is not to take things personally.

Of course, if that doesn't work, you can always key his Prius.

No, that's too violent.

You know, I think I'll soap his windshield, just see if he notices.

CHARLIE: Hey.

Hey, sorry I'm late.

Emerson, Emerson, uh, this is my father.

Dad, uh, Emerson is gonna be crashing with us.

He's watching Iron Chef.

BRADFORD: I thought maybe we should check in.

I haven't seen you for a while.

Oh, that would be a tribute to you, no?

Sure about that?

Look, I'm in a relationship, uh, you know, a good place with the family, with Charlie.

The job is... it's the job, you know?

I mean, it's all okay.

Clearly.

I lost an agent who had a wife and kids.

Is that what you're after?

Okay, now, that's a start.

We may have found our string puller.

You lied to us.

There's no way Emerson Laidlaw is involved?

I stand by what I said.

NIKKI: Computer logs say different.

Seems you've been taking an unusual online interest in Emerson's work at the exceptions office.

And we were wondering who he was talking to about what was on those trucks.

Turns out it was you.

And you knew he'd protect you. Look...

I monitored Emerson because I was worried about him.

And why is that? He told me that he ran out of room at his place for all of his junk, so he started packing things in boxes, mailing them and inserting errors into the barcodes so they'd keep bouncing around.

He's been using the Union Parcel system to store his stuff?

It's nutty, I know.

Well, how long has this been going on?

At least a year.

Maybe longer.

And the trucks that are getting hit... they're the same ones Emerson's been putting his boxes on?

That's right.

How many does he have floating around out there?

I don't know.

There's no way to find them.

He buried the tracking numbers.

Why didn't you tell us this before?

Emerson's like a son to me.

I didn't want to see him get hurt.

These guys k*lled an FBI agent.

Someone gets in their way, they don't screw around.

Now, you need to help us.

I'm not saying this is your guy, but Emerson has this cousin that takes advantage of him.

They go to casinos and he gets Emerson to do card-counting, that sort of stuff.

The cousin -- what does he look like?

He's got this, uh, streak of white hair in the front.

He's the one you should be talking to.

Yeah, I think we've had that pleasure.

You've got, uh, quite an appetite there, huh?

Yeah, f-four crackers, four olives.

I can't have four crackers.

I-I need seven on my plate.

I can only eat seven crackers, seven olives.

Seven crackers, seven olives, Dad.

Right.

(Larry clears throat)

You know, earlier we were discussing with Emerson his namesake's famous 1836 essay "Nature" and how that set forth the tenets of transcendentalism.

Yeah, 1836 was a good year for g*ns.

The Alamo, th-the Battle of San Jacinto.

Samuel Colt patented the Colt revolver.

Arkansas is a good place to buy g*ns.

You know when you send a package, you can track it online.

Well, the way the system works, sometimes it takes this wild ride all across the country, and at night when I can't sleep, I like to log on and see where my package is and where it's going.

Yeah, I know where everything is -- all my stuff at all times, all my stuff.

Yeah, you know where your stuff is right now?

Yeah, box seven --

Hummel figurines, snow globes -- Omaha.

Box 36 -- clocks, model cars -- Cleveland.

Box 121 -- calendars, comic books, Swimsuit Issues.

Emerson, these boxes you're putting on trucks.

You can tell us which trucks you're putting them on, right?

Okay, there you go.

Yeah.

No.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!

I need cellophane. No, I-I need cellophane.

I need cellophane, no, no cellophane.

Wood is no good, wood...

(low hum) ...w-wood.

No.

(low, steady hum)

It's okay.

Just listen.

Like the cars going around the track.

All right?

Go around...

...and around.

(hums along)

Yeah.

Yeah.

(cars whooshing)

♪♪ NIKKI: Emerson's cousin Carter has been a busy boy.

Looks like he got his master's in social work at Pelican Bay.

Did a nickel for armed robbery and got out five months ago.

Yeah, right when the truck heists started.

Guy served time with our two dead perps.

Fresh out of prison, he knows Hagopian.

NIKKI: Mm-hmm, so this place is like flypaper.

You should have seen Don's face when I told him we were making another trip to the strip club.

Yeah, I'll bet.

You and him have something?

Had.

Good guy, bad idea.

Story of my life.

Maybe my brother was right.

I'm in the wrong line of work.

What'd he think you should do?

Marine biologist.

(both chuckling)

Told me I should swim with the sharks.

Who says you're not?

My brother is a gym rat.

Golden Gloves.

Taught me how to fight.

He was seriously pissed when I became a cop.

LIZ: Why? He wanted you to be a fighter?

No, he just hates cops.

(laughs)

LIZ: Oh, take a look.

Our hunch was right.

Angling to get the early bird special in the lap dance line.

Mm.

♪♪

Boss told me to buy you girls some drinks.

We're on duty. Sure.

You get liquored up, you might lose control.

Nikki, back door!

(indistinct shouting)

FBI, get out of my way!

Hey!

(engine roaring)

Maybe I will have that drink.

Where is your cousin, Emerson?

Carter takes me to the casino.

He lets me spin the wheel.

No, listen, I'm asking you whe he is.

Emerson, the men your cousin is working with are dangerous.


Okay, they k*lled an FBI agent in cold blood.

We need you to tell us where Carter is, we need you to tell us which trucks your boxes are on.

I spin the wheel at the casino.

If we know the trucks, we can stop them, Emerson, we can protect your cousin.

I watch the wheel go around.

Tick, tick, tick... Hold on, you understand he could end up dead? Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick... Pressuring him won't work.

All right, I-I got to get some air.

At this point, I think there's only one place he's really going to feel safe enough to talk.

Home.

NIKKI: Got an APB out on the cousin's car.

Description, partial plate.

Who knows? Maybe we'll get lucky.

Our guy's probably dumped it at LAX long-term parking by now.

So what do we do?

Well, you know, I've been thinking.

Laidlaw seemed pretty at home at that strip club, and it looked to me like those girls weren't doing much earning onstage.

So maybe they supplement their income by going home with the clientele.

I mean, even a mope like Laidlaw could help make ends meet.

I say we hit the joint one more time, wave enough 20s around, maybe someone will give us an address.

Yeah, the -- yeah, the maps go in first.

Rand McNally.

David seems to really understand him.

The information's in his head.

I, I don't know how to get to it.

Well, you'll figure it out.

By the way, did you call that restaurant about New Year's?

That's a long ways off.

No, it's not that long.

Well, I've been busy, you know, FBI stuff.

Everything else takes a backseat.

Yeah, or everyone else, so I've heard.

Oh, you know, I knew as soon as I opened my mouth that I was stepping on toes, but Amita's geographic network was not going to work.

What else could I do?

You think I'm wrong.

I think if I go to the trouble of throwing a New Year's party for Amita's parents, it would be really nice if you two were still dating.

EMERSON: Wrong.

DAVID: It's okay, they just replaced the door.

We're going to get it painted same as the old one.

(door unlocking)

It's not right.

It's not right. What's wrong?

Two wrongs don't make a right.

It's wrong, wrong.

No, they're going to paint this door. Right?

It's wrong. His TV -- do you have his TV?

Yeah.

Came in, took photos, and moved stuff around.

If things are off even by an inch, it...

Wrong, wrong.

Okay, Emerson.

Wrong. Here you go, buddy.

TV HOST: And Justin Browning is getting ready to spin the big wheel.

Yeah.

Yeah.

(race car announcer speaking indistinctly)

CHARLIE: How do you know so much?

I had an uncle with a lot of the same issues -- not the math genius stuff, but he had all the rest of it.

My mom made sure that nobody treated her little brother like he had a disorder.

You know, she... told all of us to look at it like it was a... it was a gift.

Once you accept that they see the world in ways that you and I don't, then you, you just begin to understand a little bit.

Hey, listen, I need to see the SID photos of the apartment before it was searched.

I need to know where everything was exactly.

I think I figured out how to determine which trucks Emerson was putting his stuff on, but I'm gonna need the help of two colleagues that wrote a paper on fractal analysis to do that.

I know you guys are, uh, mad at me, but I had to make sure we were going down the right path.

No, your path.

This time.

I know, I know what it feels like to be underappreciated -- not having my security clearance, not being able to work for the FBI -- so... please cut me some slack while I, while I try to climb back on the horse.

Yeah, well, Charles, as I recall, the sum of your equestrian experience was one midnight ride on an old gray mare straight into the cranberry bog at Princeton.

You mentioned fractal analysis?

I did. Well, it came to me while I was staring at a poster of a drip painting on Emerson's wall.

You know, just how he sees the world, through an abstract painting or through a barcode or the way he arranges the seemingly random clutter in his apartment...

So it's all part of a larger design, a fractal pattern.

We know how action painters create a piece of art -- by applying a series of seemingly chaotic paint drips...

Each layer adding complexity...

Fine-tuning the recurring fractal pattern.

Applying that analysis to Emerson...

His apartment becomes the canvas, and the objects in it each forming their own layers of complexity.

Now, if we deconstruct the pattern...

We can determine where he's been hiding his boxes within the Union Parcel system.

Add to that a little geographic network overlay.

Your idea.

So, um, what do you say?

You guys, uh, you guys in?

Last time we were here, we started a conversation we didn't finish.

We didn't?

Okay.

You want to keep running, that's your choice, but I don't have to tell you -- guys who run get caught.

There's a lot of stuff.

I mean, even Charlie and his clearance and the way he got it back.

How's that?

This guy just wanted to blackball him.

And, I mean, really he was after me.

Obviously he failed.

It feels like...

FBI is all I'm good at.

But?

Well, no, I feel like that's... that's all there is.

Um, using fractal analysis, we were able to identify Emerson's boxes within the Union Parcel system.

See, that's a fractal pattern.

Now, we found all 177 parcels.

The only problem -- 26 have disappeared.

The exact number of empty boxes found in the getaway van.

The day of the warehouse heist, the thieves pulled a switch.

They cherry-picked the 26 empty boxes and replaced them with 26 others.

According to Union Parcel's records, the boxes the thieves put in the system are on their way to a facility where high-value items are stored overnight.

He's right -- normally they would go through the screening process, but they avoided that by inserting them upstream using Emerson.

That same facility just got a shipment of gold bullion.

$8 million, on its way to Dubai.

It's in a vault.

So this whole thing's a Trojan horse.

They're plan is to bust into the vault.

And they're using whatever it is in those boxes to do it.

One of the strippers came through with an address on Emerson's cousin.

Manager caught the cousin running a card game out of his room two nights ago.

Gave him a week to move out.

He's gonna be out faster than that.

Clear.

His body's still warm.

He hasn't been dead all that long.

All right, Emerson.

Listen, all your stuff is back where you left it.

You're going home. Yeah.

No place like home.

Click, click, click.

Three times.

No place is a good place.

He held out.

Take a look.

Contents of our 26 boxes.

Exothermic Cutting System?

They're gonna try and cut their way into the Union Parcel vault.

Wait a second -- where are the tracking numbers?

In a warehouse full of stuff, without them, you'd be lost.

He came into the FBI trying to work an angle to spring Emerson.

It wasn't Emerson he cared about.

It was the tracking numbers.

And there's only one person who has them, safely inside his head.

I need to take the stairs.

Yeah, no, we know that. Don't worry about it.

39 steps, there are 39 steps.

There are 39 saltines in a sleeve of crackers, 39 Supreme Court Justices.

Hold on, Emerson. I don't think it's 39.

I believe the number's nine.

Joke.

Ah. Right.

CHARLIE: All right, tell us another one.

EMERSON: No, no more jokes today.

They're on their way up.

(cocks g*n)

No witnesses.

No! No! No! No! No! No! What's wrong, buddy?

The mat is wrong! No. The mat is wrong.

Somebody probably just moved it, okay?

No! No! No! Here, I'm putting it back.

Too-too many feet.

Big feet! Small feet live here!

Only small feet!

(cocks g*n) Hey, you guys, get inside!

Move! Move!

(rapid g*nf*re)

(shotgun blasts)

You, you head toward the closet. No!

Head toward the closet, Emerson.

Stay down. Down.

No! You over here.

What?

Hey, I want you to be in here.

You be quiet, all right? Yeah.

Don't move till I come back, all right?

Don't move. Moving's not allowed.

All right. (door shuts)

FBI training course.

Did you really sh**t high score? 290 out of 300.

All right, it's a lot different when they're sh**ting back at you, okay?

No. Move back.

Take it, Charlie. Take it.

All right.

(shotgun blasting)

(a*t*matic g*n f*ring)

You stay with me, we're about to move.

Stay with me, okay?

(two g*nshots)

(whispering) Kitchen.

Hey, I got an idea.

Just... back me up, you know.

All right.

(yells)

Get him? Got him.

(gasps) Shh!

Follow me. Okay.

Drop your g*ns.

Where's Rain Man?

I sent him down the fire escape.

Backup unit has him by now.

Backup unit, right.

I like that.

(cocks g*n) Me, too.

Give me a reason.

Next time, you really should call for backup.

We were a little busy.

You okay?

Uh, yeah.

I will wait till I get home to throw up.

Exploding Cheez Whiz.

Good work, Charlie.

I felt like Butch Cassidy and Mr. Wizard.

Hey, where's Emerson?

Safe. He's in the closet.

What the...?

(low, steady humming)

(humming mimicking roaring race cars)

(TV race car announcer speaking indistinctly)

ANNOUNCER: ...Turn two and downside the back straight...

Not looking so good, tough guy.

A m*rder*d FBI agent, you're a dead man walking.

You got one sh*t to dodge a needle.

I'm listening.

We know your boss is planning to bust into the Union Parcel vault to steal the gold.

He sent the tools he needs in 26 boxes.

Your boss needs tracking numbers.

We put together a list of our own.

You're gonna give it to him.

Numbers match.

That's all of them.

DON: Turn around, I gotta take a look at your face.

FBI!

(federal agents shouting)

Good behavior, I'm out in three.

Your boy, Ricci, gave you up.

We've got you for the m*rder of a federal agent Carter Laidlaw.

Not to mention attempted m*rder of another agent and a federal witness.

And my brother. Don't forget him.

Let's go.

You can say hello to death row.

♪♪

♪ So be patient ♪

♪ Patient ♪

♪ When waiting for the gold... ♪ It's decaf.

Well, you're probably right, I shouldn't have stopped therapy.

We don't need the four walls and a couch.

It's this agent that I lost...

You've lost people before.

He had this picture of his family and he was reaching out for it.

I mean, that's what he wanted.

Just something to hold on to.

To believe in.

You have family, friends, a stable relationship with a hot prosecutor -- they don't count for anything?

No, they do, that's the thing though.

I-I-I need more.

Really.

I don't know what I would reach out for.

(sighs)

As a shrink, I want to tell you to look within.

But as a man, I have to be honest.

I think what you're really looking for, you won't be able to find on a couch.

♪ 'Cause I'm on my way back home... ♪ I guess you're sick of this place, huh?

I've had enough.

Eight is enough to fill the world with love.

I don't love this place.

I've had enough.

I hear that.

Emerson, I got you a going-away present.

Yeah, I can see myself.

It's a, uh, key for a storage unit.

All right? I rented it for you for about a month. Give it a try.

It might be an easier way for you to store all your stuff.

No keys, I lose keys. Keys are losers.

Alan Keyes, candidate for president three times, lost every time. No keys.

Keys are losers.

It was just a thought. Yeah.

Ready to go?

Ready. Ready. Buckle up. Safety first.

I've got the saltines and the Cheez Whiz, but I forgot the olives.

Gotta have olives. Gotta have the olives on top.

Mount of Olives. 150 calories.

Even if he's in good hands, I know it's not easy for a guy used to having all the answers, huh?

(elevator bell dings)

156 olives on top.

Up and down.

We'll get some. Hi.

Hi, Amita.

Best answer I've found yet.

♪ Oh, the sound is breaking all my bones ♪

♪ And won't you sing again ♪

♪ About it ♪

♪ The fire of my life ♪

♪ Is knocking at my front door ♪

♪ And won't you let him in this time? ♪

♪ And won't you let him in this time? ♪

(song ends)
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