03x04 - Is That Plutonium in Your Pocket or Are You Just Happy to See Me

[bunniefuu]

"POLICE DEPARTMENT - BOSTON"
"MEDICAL EXAMINER."

- What's up, Doc?
- Hey!

Don't ever do that to me again.

Sorry.
I thought you were off the caffeine.

Well, I guess this is him.

- What do you mean?
- The dead guy.

You telling me you're just seeing him
for the first time right now?

Yeah. Dispatch told me you called ten minutes ago.

What are you talkin' about?

The dead guy you called in.

I didn't call him in.
You called him in.

- No, I didn't.
- Yes, you did.

I think I would have remembered that.

Are you telling me
you didn't call my office

and specifically request
that you meet me here?

That is exactly what I'm sayin'.

Well, then, who did?

I'm sure there's an explanation.

Meantime, this guy isn't
gettin' any deader.

For all we know,
he could have called it in himself.

I'm gonna go out on a limb
and say he didn't.

Yesh.

Come on, I'm the Chief M.E., damn it.

I'm not supposed to
be finding bodies in alleys.

I'm telling you, I'm gettin'
to the bottom of this.

Well, I admire your dog with
a bone attitude, Doctor Macy.

I don't think there's a bottom to get to.

It was probably just a snafu
with the dispatcher. / Snafu?

Yeah, human error.

Responsible for the majority
of bungled, botched

and boneheaded messes
in this world.

Only if you're allowing for
a lot of alliteration.

Serious, one of the few good things
about working in this place.

Okay, I'll bite.

Most people here are dead,
aren't they?

Eliminates a certain percentage
of said human error.

You lie awake at night thinking
about these things, don't you?

Hey, you know, I've been in this room
over fifty times and

I've never noticed this thing right
here above the door.

What is it?

Scintillation detector.

We had `em installed after nine eleven.

It's supposed to flash
when it detects a radiation presence

in case of t*rror1st att*ck.

Huh, cool.
Least we know it works.

There's only a little bit of
residue here on his hands.

We're lucky he's not emitting it
from his pores.

You mean it's safe for me
to take this Devo outfit off?

Sure, why not?

Yeah, you probably weren't planning
on having kids anyway, right?

Just got his prints back from AFIS.

Turns out our radioactive friend here
is a Donald Brown from Framingham, Mass.

Get Lily on it.
She can handle the notification.

Please, tell me he worked
with radioactive material.

I have no idea. I uh, I couldn't find
an employment history.

Can't you just cross-reference his RMV
with his Social Security number?

See, that's just it.
There is no Social Security number.

There appears to be some kind
of block on his ID.

What the hell's goin' on here?

I'm calling CSU, going back to the scene,

comb through every inch of the place,
see if I can't get to the bottom of this.

Doctor Macy, there's
an Agent Scannell here to see you.

He's from the FBI.
It's about him.

Lily, have you contacted
Donald Brown's next of kin yet?

- I just got off the phone with his wife.
- And?

She seemed a little funny.

- Funny, ha-ha, or--
- Funny weird.

I tried to set a time for her
to come in and ID the body,

but she kept dodging me,

like I was asking her to break
an appointment at the hair salon.

Alright. Go to his house,
bring a Polaroid and make the ID.

I understand you have the body
of Donald Brown here.

That's right.

May I ask how you knew that?

We just do.

Well, maybe you can tell me
who he is. I'm tired of guessing.

I'm afraid I can't divulge that, either.

Okay.

And why is that?

It's a sensitive security issue.

- I'm just here to ask a favor.
- Well, call it a pet peeve,

but I generally like to know
what I'm getting myself into.

Doctor, all you need to know is that
I represent the United States government,

and for reasons that I won't tell you,

we need this office to assist in a case,
and we need this to happen right now.

When were you gonna get
around to the radioactive part?

And as long as we're taking him out
and measuring him,

this morgue is under my jurisdiction.

And when I have
a radioactive body show up here,

I'm bound by law to report
it to the Nuclear Regulatory Commission.

So if you want to stick
around for that call--

I need your word
this won't leave your office.

What's this all about?

Can I help you?

Oh, hi. Uh, it's not what it looks like.
I was just--

Actually, I was looking to see
if I was on the roster for an autopsy.

Funny, you look fairly alive to me.

I'm sorry. I'm Doctor Maguire. Devan.

You're not Garret Macy, are you?

No, I'm Lily Lebowski.
This is my office.

Oh, okay. Well, then I really have
some explaining to do.

This is my first day here.
I'm supposed to meet a Doctor Macy.

Next office over.
Your first day what?

Working here. I'm doing a two month
rotation for my residency in pathology.

Oh, no one told me.

Then again, I'm the grief counselor,
so no one would.

Grief counselor.
Wow, sounds--

- Heavy?
- Boring.

- I'm sorry?
- That was terrible, wasn't it?

Sometimes I just say the first thing
that pops into my head.

God awful habit.
I'm just a little nervous, that's all.

If you could just direct me
to Doctor Macy.

Yeah. That would probably
be a good idea.

What if Donald Brown is
some sort of spy?

Yeah, like a nuclear spy.

Double agent selling government
secrets, that sort of thing.

Or a tax evader.

Just saying.

The man is radioactive, Bug.

We run his prints through
AFIS, J. Edgar shows up faster

than you can say "Bob's your uncle."

Thanks for your help.

- We'll be in touch.
- Alright.

What?

What do you mean, what?
What did he say?

About what?

- About Donald Brown.
- Oh, that was nothing.

The system flagged his prints
at the local FBI office.

- Turns out he was wanted.
- For what?

Mail fraud.

- Mail fraud?
- Told you.

They've already got a suspect
in custody, and he's confessed,

so I'll personally handle it from here.

- So how'd he get radioactive?
- Yeah.

He worked in a hospital, radiology.

Sorry, fellas.
It's nothing more exciting than that.

Smell something?

- Uh, Doctor Macy, this is Doctor Maguire.
- Call me Devan.

What can I do for you?

- The residency rotation.
- The what?

Doctor LaCorte should have
contacted you.

Oh. Oh, right. Um, Boston General.

I'm ready to help out any place
you'd like me to.

Well, I could use a cup of coffee.

Oh, that's funny.
I meant with an autopsy.

L- look, let's not get ahead of ourselves.
Peter! I need to talk to you.

Well, so what would you like me to do?

I'll tell you what, why don't you
take the rest of the day off?

Okay? Thank you. Thank you.

Okay, what'd I do this time? Nothing.

I need a favor.
And it needs to be on the QT.

He usually isn't like this.

You'll start fresh tomorrow.

Well, is there anything you need me to do?
Anything I can help with?

Oh, no, that's okay.

I have to drive out to Framingham
to make a notification.

Hey, I live in Worcester.

It's right on the way.
Why don't I do it for you?

No, I couldn't ask you to do that.

What do you mean?
It's no problem.

Well, it's kind of a specific thing,
telling a loved one they've lost somebody.

I did a year in the ER.

I must have told a thousand people
their loved ones had been

in accidents or were dead.

I can do this, really.

I just want to make myself useful.
Please.

Hey.

Hey.

What are you doin'?

Me? Uh, nothin'. Nothin'

Then why are using the Retro-Opsis DV?

Is that what this thing is called?

- You're looking for fibers.
- Am I?

Uh-huh.

Thought Macy was gonna handle
it from here.

Alright, look.
He swore me to secrecy. Sorry.

- What'd he tell you?
- I can't.

Sure you can.

No, Bug, I can't. Trust me.

See, now you have to.

I gave him my word.

Oh, come on, Peter.
Look at me. Look at my life.

They're not releasing
"Star Wars Chapter Three"

until summer of two thousand and five.

- I'm a man starved for excitement.
- Alright-alright-alright-alright.

Look, you gotta promise me
that you're not gonna tell anybody.

I'm antisocial and secretive by nature.

Macy didn't tell me why,

but the FBI wants us to find out where
this guy's been for the last twenty hours.

Hairs, fibers, the works.
Anything we can find.

Well, why us?
Why didn't they take the body?

I don't know, he said something
about a ticking clock.

Interesting.

Radioactive guy, no ID,
m*rder*d execution style.

Now the FBI's involved.

Doesn't get much better than this.

Hey, CSU.
Wow, you guys got here fast.

Where is everybody?

They went for coffee.

How come nobody's guardin' the perimeter?

I don't know.

What do you got there?
What'd you find?

Oh, this? Probably nothin'.

Let me see that.

Room key.

Hey! Hey!

May I help you? / Hi, I'm Devan Maguire
from the Medical Examiner's Office.

- Oh, yes. Come in.
- Thank you.

I just spoke with your colleague.

So is there something
more you needed from me?

Well, first of all, Mrs. Brown,
I'm very sorry for your loss.

Oh. Well, thank you.

Uh, also, it's customary for the next
of kin to make a positive ID.

So I brought you a photo.

Yes, that's him.
I'm sorry, if you'll excuse me.

Sure.

What are you doing?

I'm so sorry.
I- I just- I fou-

Get down!
Get down! Now!

Where is it?!

I said where is it?!

I- I don't know
what you're talking about.

Who are you?!
What do you want?!

Shut up! Who is she?!

She's from the M.E.'s Office.

- Is she in?!
- Uh, I don't know.

It's not here.

Who are you?

I just came here to do notification.

Hey, what the hell
do you think you're doing?

No! No!

You guys seen Doctor Macy?

Why?

`Cause I just got my ass kicked
at the crime scene

by some dude
who was trying to steal this,

and I was hoping he could tell me
if it means anything.

It's got a floral pattern on it.
I think it's a hotel key.

What did this dude look like?

Average. Wearing a CSU windbreaker,
but last time I checked,

those guys don't get Ninja training.

Do you all know somethin' here?

We can't.

Alright, here's the thing.
You can't go to Macy.

Wait a minute. Wait a minute, Bug.
We cannot tell him about this.

Well, I m- no-no, Bug.
Do not listen to him.

- You- you can tell me.
- No.

We have to tell him.

No, there's not even supposed
to be a "we," Bug.

But he can help us.

Alright, fine. Alright, fine.
Let's swear him in to secrecy first.

What is this, the third grade?
Bug, tell me.

Macy's being used.

Used? By who?

The FBI.
They showed up and got to him.

He made some kind of deal
to do their groundwork,

and we want to know why.

Yeah, we hit a wall on trace. We're
waiting for the ballistics to come back,

so all we've got are some fibers
from a carpet and forty-five different hotels

in the greater New England area.

But, now that we have this--

What, we're gonna go to forty-five
different hotels and check every room?

No, we don't have to.
There's a short cut,

but it means enlisting
another member into the cabal.

What cabal?

Exactly.

Clearly, my feelings mean nothing to you.

Look, we would have told you sooner,
but it was too risky.

Yeah, well, I'd expect that from him,
but you, Bug?

Hey, what's that suppose to mean?

Nothing.

Teacher's pet. Would you guys knock it
off and tell me what this thing is doin'?

It's calculating a sequence
of ones and zeros.

See, there- there's three lines of information
on the key card's magnetic strip, alright?

One is the code for the electronic lock
on the hotel room door,

another is the manufacturer's ID,

and the last is the specific serial
number of the hotel,

which ought to be coming up
right about now.

Oh my God, no.

Uh, we're gonna have a hard time
keeping this from Macy.

You said he registered alone.
Did he have any guests?

Uh, yesterday afternoon,
a man asked for him at the front desk.

You remember what he looked like?

Tall, brown hair,
uh, flecked with gray.

Uh, forty, maybe.
Wore glasses, yeah.

- Glasses?
- Like- like horn rims.

I'm gonna start dusting for prints.

Yeah, I'm gonna takes some photos.

Something supposed
to be connected to this?

It's a data line for the internet.
But that's not our cord.

Oh, that- that's the fire alarm.

Okay, everyone needs to get out of
here right now. Please.

Oh--

Thanks for all your help, fellas.
You can go home now.

You followed us here?

Hey, whoa-whoa. What's goin' on here
and who the hell are you?

This is the guy we were telling you about.

- Who am I? Who are you?
- Detective Hoyt, Boston PD.

Thanks for all your help, Detective,
but you're off the case.

- It's not here.
- What is not here?

I said you can go.

Hey, I don't know who you think you are,
but you can't--

One phone call and you'll be pulling
crosswalk patrol. You understand?

Now go home.

This doesn't have to be difficult.

I mean, unless you have a reason to lie.

You don't have a reason to lie, do you?

No, I swear.

Uh, if he had anything, he didn't tell me.

He'd been secretive lately, not himself.

Huh. Well, now he's really
not himself, is he?

I tell you what, why don't you take
a couple of minutes to think about things.

I suggest you have some answers
when I come back.

You did what?

I didn't mea- I'm sorry, you know,
I mean, it just kinda had a life of its own.

You were to trace fibers
and report back to me. That's all.

It was my fault.
I made `em come with me.

Emmy, get me Agent Scannell
with the FBI.

Forget him.
He doesn't care who k*lled the guy.

- They're looking for something else.
- Yeah, something that wasn't there.

You've got to tell us what's goin' on,
Doctor Macy.

No, I don't.
I gave the man my word.

Now I've got to call him and tell him
why I can't be trusted with a secret.

Okay, while you're at it,

why don't you ask him why Donald Brown
was sh*t...with a Colt nineteen eleven,

which is a g*n used exclusively by
classified agencies of the U.S. government?

We just got the ballistics back.

I'm sorry, Doctor Macy,

but there doesn't seem to be
an Agent Scannell at the FBI.

Okay, now you have to tell us
what's going on.

Yeah, he's right.
What'd he tell you, Doctor Macy?

He said that Donald Brown was an accountant
with a class two security clearance...

at the Linear Accelerator Center at MIT.

Last Wednesday, he walked out of the
front door carrying a small suitcase

filled with six kilos of
weapons grade plutonium.

We picked up his cell phone chatter
and believe that last night,

he rendezvoused with
an international arms dealer

with ties to over half a dozen
t*rror1st organizations.

Obviously, that transaction
didn't go over so well.

The cell chatter tells us that the plutonium
is still someplace in this city.

If so, then they're gonna
try to get it out,

and that, Doctor,
is why we need you.

They're monitoring every artery in...
and out of the city.

How long is that story gonna last
before it stops holding water?

Two, three hours, tops.

That's why they needed our office
to do the trace.

We've got a ticking clock here.

My God.

- If it's true, just imagine--
- Yeah, I have.

I- I need to speak with you, Doctor Macy.

Not now, Lily. Please.

- It- it's about Devan Maguire.
- Who?

- The new M.E.
- There's a new M.E.?

- What new M.E.?
- The one that started today.

- Do we like the new M.E.?
- She's not an M.E.! She's a resident.

Whatever.

I sent her out on
the Donald Brown notification.

- You what?
- I'm sorry.

The point is, I've tried reaching her on
her cell, her apartment. She's gone.

I'm calling this in.

I'll have two dozen cops on it in
less than twenty minutes.

No.

No. Not until we figure out
what's goin' on here.

What are you talkin' about, Doctor?
We got a national emergency here.

There's plutonium in Boston.

These people could be
making a b*mb. Okay, Doctor?

- So I'm calling it in.
- No, think about it, Woody.

We don't even know who led us
to the body this morning.

We have a laundry list of crap
that doesn't add up here,

and now one of
our own people's missing.

Well, how do we know
she's one of our own?

I mean, think about it. What do we
even know about this woman?

Maybe she's in on the whole thing.

Either way, we're being played.

We have to fly below the radar here just
until we can figure out who to believe.

Peter, Bug, I want a full autopsy
on Donald Brown.

Nigel, go over everything you found
in that hotel room.

Woody, why don't you go back
to our guy's house and

see if you can get
on Doctor Maguire's trail.

Alright?

I'm going with you.

My apologies about
the sparse accomodations.

We're on a fixed budget.

Have a seat.

I'll stand if you don't mind.

It wasn't a question.

Are you in or not?

Am I in what?

Are you in?

I don't know what you're talking about.

It was my first day on the job.
You've got the wrong person.

Devan Maguire, born in Manhattan,
Upper East Side.

Mother, Dorothy, lives in Paris, France.

Father, Roger, whereabouts unknown.

Boarding school in Switzerland.

Brown University undergrad.
Med school, UCLA.

Three years residence at Boston General.
Am I in the ballpark?

You forgot "enjoys long walks
on the beach."

So what, you did a Google search?

I'm still the wrong person,
and you're still a dirt bag.

That's dirt bag with a g*n.

I was just there to get
an ID from the lady.

Then someone should be
looking for you pretty soon.

Exactly.

So why don't you just
let me walk out of here,

and I'll forget all about the drugging
and kidnapping, okay?

Really.

Just like that?

Everyone's entitled to a bad day.

We should talk about
what you know first.

See now, again, that would presuppose
my knowing what you're talking about.

Where is it?

Where's what?

You really don't know, do you?

What are you gonna do with me?

What about your chair?

Don't say I never gave you anything.

Her car. Morgue visitor's pass.

Oh, is that a good sign
or a bad sign?

- Depends.
- On what?

Whether you believe in bad signs.

Police!

Alright, stay here.

Oh, wait, wai- wai- wai- wait!

She wasn't there.
More specifically, nothing was.

- Nothing, as in?
- Nothing.

Except the car.

Neighbors said they saw a moving van
come in and take everything

out of the house
in less than a half hour.

We got a description of the van,
but no plates.

- We're not gonna find it.
- Well, did you put an A- / APB? Yeah.

She's gone, Garret.
She's vanished.

Well, let's not jump to conclusions yet.

Oh, and wh- when should
we jump to conclusions?

When she rolls in here on a gurney?

I mean, what if she is being
held hostage or something?

Oh. I'm sorry.

It's okay.
It's okay, we'll find her.

Anything?

Well, he didn't die from the g*nsh*t.

No hemorrhaging around
the entrance wound.

Well, so he d*ed before he was sh*t.
How's that help us?

It doesn't. Just adds to the mystery.

Yeah, but now we're on to something.
Check this out.

An electrode in his right aortic ventricle
from a pacemaker.

There should be a serial number on it.

Exactly.

Trace the number back to
the patient it was implanted in.

As good as a fingerprint.

Congratulate me, fellas.

Did you know that most upscale
hotels have their own service

that guests route their emails through?

I did. I was able to capture four emails
Donald Brown sent from his hotel room.

All four were to a Leather Lauren.

"Someday I will explain everything.

For now, just know the deal will be done
this afternoon

and we can finally be together forever.

Meet me at the bus stop
on the southwest
corner of Commonwealth and K at four p.m.

Make sure you bring
the package with you."

The package.

What the hell does that mean?

Well, for our sake, I hope it means
a suitcase full of plutonium.

- Funny you should say that.
- Why?

Whoa, that's Leather Lauren?

What, you were expecting Cameron Diaz?

Well, yeah, actually. Uh, yeah.

Lauren?

Leather Lauren?

Detective Hoyt, Boston PD.

Do you mind if we ask you
a few questions?

Do you know a Donald Brown?

What about him?

I'm afraid he's dead.

He's dead?

Ma'am, what's in the suitcase?

Where is it?

Yeah, he asked you to bring
a package with you.

Do you have it?

He told me that if anything happened
to him, that I should go to the locker.

- So who's our dead guy?
- He's not Donald Brown.

We traced the serial number
on the pacemaker.

It was implanted into
one Edward Claxton

from Phoenix, Arizona back
in June nineteen ninety-six.

Now are you ready for the weird part?

You mean we're not there yet?

Ed Claxton was hit by a car
in nineteen ninety-eight,

declared brain dead.

He's been in a coma in a VA hospital
outside of Phoenix, Arizona

for the past five years.

He was a b*ating heart corpse.

I don't know where he went, I swear.

You think we are screwing around here?
That this is some kind of game?

Now, one last time.
Where is it?

I'm telling you the truth.
I don't know anything, I swear I don't.

Alright.

Alright, fine.

No!

You're a monster.

No, I'm a businessman.

And right now, you're standing
in the way of my doing business.

So what, are you gonna k*ll me now, too?

If you are, at least tell me
what this is all about.

Weapons grade plutonium,

enough for a small
but very nasty nuclear w*apon,

and you are gonna help me find it.

What makes you think
I know how to do that?

Donald Brown's body shows up dead
in the local morgue with no ID.

Someone claiming to be the FBI comes in,
g*ns blazing,

and muscles you and your cronies

into figuring out where the body's been
since falling off their grid. Am I close?

We know that you've tracked
down his hotel, even traced his emails.

So unless you guys suck at your jobs,

you are bound to have found
out something by now.

Unfortunately,
I can't find out what that is.

But you can.

What's your boss's number?

I don't know.

I told you it was my first day on the job.

You're not stupid.

Lily Lebowski.

Devan. Oh, thank God.
Where are you?

I just- I need to know where we are
with the Donald Brown case.

Why? What's g- what's going on?

Lily, just- just tell me.
What do we know?

Any idea where the plutonium is?

How do you know about the plutonium?

Do we know where it is?

Uh, Doctor Ma-

-- Detective Hoyt at the train station.

Something about a-
a key to a locker, but--

Devan? Devan.

Well, there. That wasn't so hard, was it?

What's really going on here?

None of this makes any sense.

Hey.

Why haven't you k*lled me yet?

There it is.

Got a signal.

Open it up, come on. / It's only emitting
fifteen m.r.'s. It's safe to touch.

Oh, man. Oh, man. Oh, man.

Oh, man. Oh, man.

We'll take that.

This day has been insane,
just insane.

First, we find some dead guy
in an alley

who happens to have been
brain dead the last five years.

Then some dude straight out of a Tom
Clancy novel shows up in your office,

but it turns out he doesn't even exist.

Then Lily and I got to the dead guy's
house, but guess what?

There is no house.

Now we got Uzis.
Nobody mentioned anything about Uzis.

Uh, hey, chaps.
That van behind us-- / What about it?

- Just took the last three turns with us.
- Great.

Now we're being tailed.

Don't say I never gave
you anything back.

Alright, men.
You know what to do.

- Macy.
- Doctor Macy.

It's Devan Maguire.

Where are you?

Uh, I'm in an airplane hangar
here at Logan. Hangar eighteen.

They've got suitcases filled with--
Plutonium, we know.

Just hold on.
We're less than ten minutes away.

Devan? Devan!

- Where is she?
- Hangar eighteen at Logan.

Smart ass.
See if you can tail this.

No! No!

Let's go.

Just leave it.

Doctor Macy, you've got a shotgun
to your right side.

I hope you know how to use it.

Now, we should wait for backup, Woody.

- It's a little late for that.
- Woody, wou-

Boston PD!
Drop your weapons!

I said drop your weapons
and show me your hands!

Why aren't they sh**ting at us?

Let's have everyone drop
their weapons and come forward.

Whoa-whoa-whoa, what are you doin'?
Are you crazy? They have g*ns!

We found you. It's over.

Devan, get the hell outa there!

It's alright, Doctor Macy.
No one's gonna sh**t me.

There are no b*ll*ts in their g*ns.

Think about it.
None of this makes any sense.

Donald Brown's house was
nothing but a fake set.

His wife, sh*t at close range,
ten feet from where I was standing,

no trace of blood anywhere.

No blood splatter on the guy
who supposedly k*lled her.

And then, of course, there's this.

Plutonium is in a constant state of decay.

It should be warm to the touch.

That is, unless it's just...

sand.

It's over. She knows.

What the hell is goin' on?

Scannell, or whatever your name is,

what is this, and who are you guys?

Nuclear Emergency Search Team,
NEST. / NEST?

This whole day, this whole thing,
it was a scenario.

- What do you mean, a scenario?
- A game, Doctor.

Team A carries the football
into an urban environment.

Team B searches for Team A.

Why the hell didn't you tell me
this from the beginning?

It would have defeated
the whole purpose.

We needed to see how local
authorities would react.

Had to be as real as possible.

- No hard feelings, I hope.
- No.

You stole some poor brain dead bastard

from a VA hospital and put two b*ll*ts
in him. For what?

A game?

It's one thing to use me, but you put
people I care about in harm's way.

So, sure, no hard feelings.

But the next time I see you in my morgue,
it better be on a slab.

That was a stupid thing you did today.

I know.

Seemed like a good idea at the time.

Look, I know we didn't get off
on the right foot here,

so I'll understand
if you don't want to stay.

Just tell me it's not always
this action-packed around here.

Today, this was nothin'.

You don't have to decide now,
but if you're staying,

we've got a staff meeting
at eight a.m. sharp.

Then I'll see you in the morning.