Episode Report Card M. Giant: B- | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT Terrorist Leader: 2. Bloated Government Bureaucracy: 1.
By M. Giant | Season 4 | Episode 15 | Aired on 03.27.2005
Soul Patch spots DoDder approaching them from across the floor, and suggests they tell her what's going on with Kiefer. "Why?" Bitchelle asks. "They're involved," Soul Patch says. Bitchelle, pearl-clutchingly: "She's married." Soul Patch, blandly: "Separated." I've got a feeling that distinction is going to be important in a later discussion between these two, albeit in a different context. Bitchelle doesn't want to tell DoDder in case they have to leave Kiefer twisting in the breeze. Soul Patch disagrees. "She's a professional. She knows that's a possibility." Heh. Good one. He's talking about the person who asked him just over an hour ago what happens to the loser in a firefight. "But hey, you're the boss," says Soul Patch. "It's your call." They might still be together if he'd said that more often.
DoDder reaches them and asks if they've heard from Kiefer. Which is odd, because last hour she didn't know he was even leaving. Soul Patch looks expectantly at Bitchelle, letting her decide how to field the question. She rips off the Band-Aid: "Kiefer's missing…we think he was taken by ImhoTerror." DoDder says, "What are we doing to get him back?" "Everything we can," Bitchelle promises. "How did this happen?" DoDder asks. Uh-oh, she's mad again. That's what that question means, you know. Bitchelle explains that no one is fully protected in the field. "Who was in charge of this operation?" DoDder demands, so she can know off of whom she needs to go rip a strip. "I was," Bitchelle says levelly. DoDder looks at her like, "Oooooh, maybe not." She just says, "Get him back, Bitchelle," and walks away rather than throwing down. Sure, she's pissed and freaked out and terrified, but she's not suicidal.
9:07:44. I am totally moving to L.A., because the abundance of abandoned real estate in that supposedly inflated market is a potential gold mine. The downside is that vacant buildings appear to breed terrorists the way stagnant water breeds mosquitoes. CTU Detroit must really have its hands full. In this scene, we find ourselves in yet another old warehouse, this one apparently serving as ImhoTerror's current hideout. Kiefer is dragged in, forced to an awkward kneeling position, and held down as his handcuffs are looped over a chain running along the wall at waist height. ImhoTerror wants to talk. "Don't waste your time," Kiefer says. There you go, Kiefer. Encourage the pissed-off terrorist with unlimited resources to get back to whatever he was doing before you showed up. In any case, it doesn't work. ImhoTerror wants to know if TerrorProf -- who, as he informs Kiefer, "has since martyred himself" -- was CTU's only link to ImhoTerror. All Kiefer will say is that whatever ImhoTerror has planned next is going to fail, "just like everything else you've tried today." ImhoTerror takes exception to that, pointing out the train bombing and the meltdown of one nuclear plant. "That wasn't really your plan, was it?" Kiefer sneers, reminding everyone of the 103 power plants that didn't melt down. "That's what America will remember. That we stopped you." ImhoTerror says that America will remember DaD being held hostage, and claims that "this country will be forever afraid to let their leaders appear in public." Bwah! Kiefer can barely suppress his own mirth: "Whatever you throw at us, I promise you: that'll never happen." What he doesn't say is that in his two careers, as a death-cheating field agent and as a D.C. policy wonk, he's learned where the most dangerous place on Earth is: between a politician and a TV camera. ImhoTerror leaves the room.