Episode Report Card M. Giant: B | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT Low Noon
By M. Giant | Season 3 | Episode 23 | Aired on 05.17.2004
11:44:45. Foxton and Brother Palmer are chilling in Lady Mac's cellar. Even Foxton is beginning to look a little nervous. His cell phone chirps furtively, signaling a call from his safe-cracking expert, who reads him a code over the phone. It doesn't work. They hear a car outside. Brother Palmer dashes up the stairs and peeks out the window. Lady Mac's home! Meanwhile, Foxton is trying another safe code, and is again unsuccessful. Brother Palmer runs back down the stairs to try to pull the plug on Foxton. Foxton's not moving. Brother Palmer looks like he's about to lay a brick. I hate myself for actually feeling tense during a single scene of this storyline. The third code works. Foxton opens the safe, but the bottle's not in there. D'oh! They dash back up the stairs, and Foxton closes the hatch. Brother Palmer wants to go, but Foxton "didn't come all this way to leave empty-handed." Yeah, he's had maybe fifteen minutes of driving time since Brother Palmer first called him. Foxton hides behind the counter dividing the kitchen from the living room, leaving Brother Palmer standing out in the open when Lady Mac comes in the front door. Obviously she wants to know what he's doing there, and the guilty expression on his face and the disarray in her living room allow her to put things together pretty quickly. She's got the whole scam figured out. Now if she can just figure out how Brother Palmer made the rubber gloves vanish from his hands, I'd be really impressed. Brother Palmer just stands there and takes her schoolmarmish dressing-down until Foxton sneaks up behind her. She turns, just in time for him to pole-axe her with a sock on the jaw. She's flat on the floor, out cold. Foxton frisks her unconscious body, rolls her over, pushes up the back of her jacket and shirt, and finds -- Milliken's medicine bottle! Taped to her skin! Wrapped in a tiny little baggie to protect her fingerprints! Which, since the bottle is in her possession, she could reapply at any time anyway! Foxton rips it loose and holds it up to Brother Palmer, a hilariously inappropriate "See? All better" grin on his face. It's 11:47:46.
It's 11:51:59. Soul Patch counts down the final nineteen years, three hundred sixty-four days, twenty-three hours, and thirty-two minutes of his sentence. Saunders tells the sketch artist something about eyebrows. Bitchelle ponders whatever answer she gave Hammer, which we never got to hear, and Potato Face mans her psychic hotline. At the subway station, Kiefer and Special Agent Charlie Brown move in with a phalanx of plainclothes agents, buttoning their jackets over their bulletproof vests. Special Agent Charlie Brown's team takes up position on the platform on one side of the track, while Kiefer stays put on the other, parking himself on a bench. As always, everyone's in touch with each other via their earpieces. Kiefer gives the agents what little description they have of Wild Card, which, since it actually includes the word "nondescript," won't necessarily be all that helpful. Then he gives Potato Face the order to let the train come into the station. It does so. I must say, Potato Face is impressively on-task this week. It's 11:53:33. The agents peer into the cars as the train comes to a stop on the platform. Do they have a plan for if Wild Card stays on the train? Is another team in place further down the line, or do they all race to the next station? Why do I bother asking these questions? Kiefer never makes the wrong call, after all. As the train disgorges its passengers -- of which my Los Angeles-based Eagle-Eyed Forum Posters claim there is an unusually high number -- the agents watch for dark-haired white males in their mid-thirties. I suddenly feel very conspicuous.