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Kiefer submits to about five minutes of questioning from that Senate subcommittee we've been hearing about for the past year, before the FBI, in the person of Agent Renee Walker, swoops in and plucks him out. This is because a shadowy "crew" has just nabbed a high-level Homeland Security software engineer to help put together some high-tech hacking device. Kiefer's not feeling too cooperative, until the mercifully early revelation that one of the evil masterminds is none other than Tony Almeida himself, fully alive and fully evil.
Meanwhile, our old buddy General Juma is stacking up the corpses pretty high back in Sangala, and new president Allison Taylor is trying to organize an American intervention, against substantial resistance. At the same time, her husband tries to get a weaselly reporter to quash an anti-invasion story while secretly paying a private eye to look into the alleged suicide of their son, Roger, who we met in "Redemption."
Working at the FBI office (which has a different décor from CTU, but a familiar plenitude of borderline personalities), Kiefer quickly helps the Feds find a lead -- a shady character named Schechter with whom both he and Tony have history from their CTU days. Just when Kiefer gets Schechter to agree to talk by falling back on some of the old methods that landed him in front of a subcommittee in the first place, Schechter takes two sniper bullets in the chest. Seconds later, Kiefer gets a phone call from Tony telling him to stay away. Which should totally work, right? And then Tony switches gears, using that device to hack into air traffic control so he can prepare to remotely crash a passenger jet. Looks like it's on.
Want more? The full recap starts right below!Oh, I do love these advance screeners that Fox keeps sending me. While you're reading this in the second week of January, which is normally the depths of my four-cap carpal tunnel nightmare panic hellride, I'm taking my leisurely time writing this on what is, for me, the week of Christmas. One of the best gifts I got. Let's see if I feel the same way after watching it.
I do have high hopes for this, the seventh season. Part of that is superstition, as the odd-numbered seasons tend to be the good ones. But it's also because for the first time, the writers have had the time to plan out the whole season in advance, like I've been after them to do for years. And if it doesn't hold up, this year there's no excuse.
One other thing: as a little experiment, and since I've never had time to do this before, I'm fully recapping each hour before even watching the one. What this means for you is that each recap will be written from a completely unspoiled perspective. All I'm going to be doing after finishing all four hours will be going back to fix the occasional typo [sic].
No previouslies in the first hour, even though they had a perfectly good two-hour prequel to draw on. We start with the simple statement that the following takes place between 8:00 AM and 9:00 AM. Events occur, like the man said, in real time.The very first event is a dramatic pan down from the Capitol dome in Washington D.C., to one of the roads leading away from it. On that road is a specifically a black station wagon. Inside it, a bespectacled John Billingsley (Phlox from Enterprise) is chauffeuring his tween daughter to school and telling her to knock off the texting already. After she puts her phone away, his own cell rings, and he answers it. "How come you get to talk on the phone?" she demands. "That's not fair." "Well, life's not fair," he responds. Which is one of those parent sayings I promised myself I'd never say. The good news is I haven't yet, but the bad news is my son is only four. Life continues to be unfair, as Billingsley can't hear anyone on the other end of the line. While Billingsley's trying to get someone to answer him, and his daughter is pouting out the back passenger-side window, we can see through the other back window that a black van is about run a red light and t-bone them at full-speed. Which it does, shattering the window. It's really quite impressive, shot from inside the car like in Adaptation or those "Holy sh--" Volkswagen commercials from a few years back, made all the more jarring by the presence of a young girl in the shot being yanked violently sideways by the impact. The car spins to a stop in the middle of the intersection. Father and daughter are badly shaken but, but then another van rams them from behind, sending them crunching right up on top of a parked car. Both vans stop and disgorge masked men with assault rifles, one of whom hops on top of a cab and fires a few rounds to disperse the gathering crowd. As Billingsley and his daughter scream at each other in increasing panic, his door is pried open and he's cut loose from his seatbelt, so he can be bundled into the back of one of the two vans, both of which burn rubber out of there. This has all been so riveting that I've completely spaced on reading the names of the actors in the credits until now, when the name "Carlos Bernard" appears. Oh, don't act like you didn't know. In the back of one of the vans, Billingsley begs his captors, "Please don't hurt my daughter. I've got money." One of the masked men, whose mask can't hide a familiar voice or even more familiar patch of distinctive facial hair, calmly responds, "We don't want your money, Mr. Latham. We just want you to fix something for us."
Meanwhile, at the Capitol, a power-suited brunette climbs out of a silver government SUV and walks toward the building, clearly meaning business. She looks kind of like a younger, more freckled version of Connie Nielsen. Inside the building, a hearing is beginning. Mind you, it's not inside the actual Senate Chamber like the one we see on C-SPAN, but in another large room, a rather airy venue lined with large windows that let in lots of golden sunlight despite the fact that it's another blue-grey day in D.C. The hearing is being presided over by a U.S. Senator named Blaine Mayer, played by Kurtwood Smith. Now, normally, the man who played Red Forman can be pretty intimidating, but he's failed to take one important fact into account: he was also in Robocop, and we already know from Peter Weller and Paul McCrane that things don't tend to end well for Robocop alumni on this show. Plus his name is Blaine Mayer, which I'm sure is supposed to telegraph "liberal wussy" but only makes me think of John Cusack's similarly named character in Better Off Dead. But so anyway.
Parliamentary procedure proves to be a handy exposition tool as we hear Mayer announce, "Let the record show that this is the third day of the Senate hearing investigating human rights violations by the recently disbanded Counter Terrorist Unit." Gosh, 24 without CTU? Without Los Angeles? Would we ever be able to adjust to all this if we hadn't had a year and a half to get used to the idea? Senator Mayer further exposits that they left off yesterday discussing brutality and torture. Which brings us to the hero of the piece: "Will the witness please state his name?" Mayer asks. Pan over to a suited Kiefer, sitting all alone at the witness table, who clearly answers, "Jack Bauer." Or, as he might also say, "Exhibits A though Z-Omega-Infinity." The Senator asks Kiefer where his lawyer is, and of course Kiefer says he's not using one. Lawyers are for liberal wussies. Mayer really wants Kiefer to have a lawyer, but Kiefer just grits, "What is the first question, sir?" Mayer sits back with a "Fine, be that way" look on his face and asks, "Who is Ibrahim Haddad?" After putting on such a show of being a defiant bad-ass, Kiefer at least has the grace to look a little embarrassed at having to dodge the question on the grounds that it's classified. Mayer assures him that as representatives of the people of the United States, they have declassified it, and repeats the question. Kiefer answers that Haddad was a member of a terrorist sleeper cell CTU was watching in 2002. Of course actual years mean almost nothing in the timeline of the show, but Mayer presses on, asking if Kiefer "detained Mr. Haddad without due process" and "used extreme interrogation methods." "Yes, sir," Kiefer agrees. Mayer asks if he broke procedure, and Kiefer responds, "Probably." Mayer's not impressed with that answer. "You don't seem to care about the implications here." Kiefer doesn't respond, until Mayer prods him and he snots, "I'm sorry, Senator, I didn't hear a question." So Mayer gives him one: "Did you torture Mr. Haddad?" Kiefer responds, "According to the definitions set forth by the Geneva Convention, yes, I did." It's not often that Kiefer admits that directly to doing the T-word, but presumably the Geneva Conventions are also for liberal wussies. Into the shocked silence, Kiefer makes a little speech: "It's obvious that your agenda is to discredit CTU and generate a series of indictments." He even contradicts Mayer to his face when he says his only agenda is the truth, and plows on: "Ibrahim Haddad had targeted a bus carrying 45 people, ten of which were children. The truth, Senator, is that I stopped that attack from happening." "By torturing Mr. Haddad!" Mayer barks indignantly. Kiefer corrects, "By doing what I deemed necessary to protect innocent lives." What I love is that this Ibrahim Haddad isn't even one of the guys Kiefer's tortured on the show. Which is either so we can understand that Kiefer does this all the time, or so we don't have to think back and remember, "Oh, yeah, that guy whose fingers Kiefer broke," or "Right, that guy Kiefer doused with water and then electrocuted with a lamp," or "Wasn't he the dude who got his kneecap shot out?" or "Oh, sure, the White House Chief of Staff he nearly blinded." This way we don't actually have to think about what Kiefer did specifically to Ibrahim Haddad. Not in this quiet, civilized hearing chamber, so far from the tense, fraught places where Kiefer works his magic and tells himself he's doing it for us. Mayer accuses Kiefer of saying the ends justify the means and that he's above the law. Kiefer unspools a doozy of a rationalization: "When I am activated, when I am brought into a situation, there is a reason. And that reason is to complete the objectives of my mission at all costs." So, in other words, yes. Kiefer's not responsible for his own actions; anything he does is on the people who put him to work in the first place. He goes on to say that a combat soldier needs to adapt to the enemy. "The people that I deal with, they don't care about your rules." Yes, Senator Blaine Mayer's rules. Damn you, Senator Blaine Mayer, and your rules. Kiefer continues, "All they care about is a result. My job is to stop them from accomplishing their objectives. I simply adapted." Oh, fucking puke. I liked him better when he was being defiant. Now he just sounds like a weasel. But he denies considering himself above the law. "I am more than willing to be judged by the people you claim to represent. I will let them decide what price I should pay." Which is why he's been an international fugitive for the past four years. "But please, do not sit there with that smug look on your face and expect me to regret the decisions that I have made. Because, sir, the truth is, I don't." Huh. Funny. He used to.
And you know, I had a whole thing here about the toxic effect the character of Jack Bauer has had on some of the values this nation used to hold, but it's way too early in the season. I'm going to just probably let it go for now, and accept the idea that 24 takes place in a fictional universe where terror threats emerge and are neutralized within a day, major metropolitan areas can be crossed in ten minutes during rush hour, "ticking-time-bomb" scenarios are commonplace, and torture works. And as for the fact that Jack Bauer has been cited as an exemplar of American behavior by everyone from intelligence trainees to a fucking Supreme Court Justice, I should probably just stick it in a blog.
So Before Kiefer can be arrested for contempt of Congress for that little outburst, the bailiff whispers into Mayer's ear, indicating an interruption. That would be the power-suited brunette from outside a moment ago, who walks in, flashes her badge at the senator, introduces herself as Special Agent Renee Walker, and asks for Kiefer to be remanded into her custody immediately. "I'm not surprised that anyone has a subpoena for Mr. Bauer," Mayer says, but tells her to wait her turn. She hands him some papers that apparently trump Congress's right to question a witness. What could that possibly be? A letter from the president? Secret documents from the Templars or Illuminati? Karl Rove's day planner? Whatever the case, Mayer says they'll have to let things go for now, but will reconvene with Kiefer tomorrow morning at the same time. Kiefer stands, gathers up his beige overcoat and briefcase, and walks out with Walker and the gray-haired agent who accompanied her in. Mayer simply calls the witness. We don't get to see who it is. Damn, I was hoping to see what Mayer might have had to say to Eric the Torture Guy. I really hope that's on the DVD.
At 8:07:13, Kiefer crosses the lobby with Walker and her temporary (that is, until Kiefer takes over the role) sidekick, the appropriately silent agent Teller. Walker tells Kiefer that she's taking him to their office, which is just down the block. "Why?" Kiefer growls. Walker says that can wait until they get there. As they step out into the Traffic-tinted morning, Walker gets on her cell phone to said office, where Janeane Garofalo of all people answers the phone. Janeane Garofalo? Who's , Tim Robbins? Walker tells the former Air America radio host that she's on her way back with Kiefer, and Janeane Garofalo (whose character's name is Janis Gold) tells her that's good, because things are heating up. "That crew we've been tracking? They just grabbed a man named Michael Latham." Walker recognizes the name from Homeland Security's CIP firewall project. I keep missing what CIP stands for, but rest assured it's quite a bit heavier than a surveillance system that allows its user to observe people while they're urinating. "He's the chief engineer of the government's infrastructure security system," Janis clarifies. Apparently that's bad. Walker promises to be in soon.
After hanging up, Janis gets up and crosses the office, which is like the Anti-CTU. Instead of a concrete cave, it's a standard office space with normal cubicles, acoustic tile ceilings, and not a single exotic phone chirp to be heard. Plus very few people seem to have learned the first rule of dressing for 24, which is to wear something comfortable, because unless you're Kiefer you'll probably be wearing it for several months. Janis approaches Exhibit A, stiff-shirted Poor Man's Tobey Maguire to request security clearance for Kiefer to get into the building. "Won't need him cleared for a couple of minutes," he drones at her without looking up from his monitor. Impatiently, Janis begins, "Sean, as a friend -- " He interrupts that she's no such thing, so she starts over "As someone as close to a friend as you are ever going to get, let me give you some advice. Most people don't like sarcasm. I myself have no problem with it because I'm cheerful. I'm a cheerful person." That gets Sean's attention, and she finally snaps at him to do Kiefer's clearance already. Oh, good. I was afraid that with CTU gone, we'd have to somehow muddle through the season without the aid of a bunch of maladjusted nerds immaturely sniping at each other back at the home office. Thanks, Janis and Sean, for putting my fears to rest.
Inside a long, central conference room -- which unlike CTU's has glass windows only every other panel instead of all of them, but features a familiar oblong conference table -- a suited blond agent named Larry Moss (Walker's boss, we'll soon learn) is giving some extras an exposition briefing about a series of "technology thefts" that have been going on. On a big-screen monitor, he pulls up the dossier for Michael Latham, tells them who he is, and that he was just abducted ten minutes ago. And that they think he, along with the stolen tech goods, is being used to build a device to break through the CIP firewall. Janis pokes her head in to say that Kiefer's on his way. Okay, briefing over. Well, one thing the FBI has in common with CTU: they certainly put the "brief" in "briefing."
At a dimly lit hideout somewhere, which is of course packed with high-tech computer equipment, the guy who played Donnie Pfaster on The X-Files looks to be busy hacking into some air traffic control systems. But since they're not all the way in yet, he tells an underling, "Check on Latham." The underling heads into another room, where a battered and bloody Latham is sitting at a workbench and just finishing assembling some kind of electronic component. "All right, it's done," he mutters, defeatedly. Dude, he works fast. And he folds even faster.
But what could the component possibly have to do with the passenger airline prepping for take off on a runway somewhere? The airline is either "Global Skies," which is how the pilot identifies the flight, or "Global Air," which is what's painted on the side of the plane. They should probably get that straightened out. Lost retires Oceanic as a name for fictional airlines, and the whole fictional airline name industry goes to shit. The flight crew is on the radio to air traffic control, confirming their clearance from D.C.'s Reagan National to JFK airport in New York. The flight attendant warns the innocent, helpless passengers (look how innocent and helpless they all are!) of some possible turbulence. And Donnie Pfaster watches on his own ATC monitor as the flight takes up position at the head of the runway. It's all very suspenseful.
Kiefer is now inside the FBI's Washington Field Office. I didn't know there was such a thing; why a field office so close to the headquarters? But apparently it actually exists. I'll have to save my J. Edgar Hoover Building joke for another time. Kiefer looks a little nervous as he, Walker, and Teller ride up the elevator. When they step off, they're met by the aforementioned Larry Moss, who introduces himself as "head of this office." I'm going to resist the temptation to nickname him "Boss Moss," although you can feel free to use it as a mnemonic device to remember his position. As they walk through the cube farm, Moss tells Kiefer that he's there because Walker thinks he can help. "Now, personally, I have my doubts, but I'll be happy to be proven wrong." Kiefer pleasantly responds, "Lucky for me I'm not here to apply for a job, Agent Moss. Personally, I don't care what makes you happy, so let's get this over with." Charming. Kiefer is led off to wait in Walker's office and try to think up more rude things to say to people, while Moss keeps Walker back and warns, "You've read his file. Bauer's the kind of guy you say the wrong thing, he can go off." Walker assures her boss she'll be fine. "But if he doesn't produce, don't waste our time. Throw him back," Moss instructs. Do we need to wait? Walker seems like a pretty competent individual all on her own.
Kiefer waits nervously inside Walker's office at 8:11:55, and when she walks in, he softly demands, "What do you want?" What the hell is up with him? He's acting like a small, frightened animal that gets vicious when cornered. Or he just left what little social skills he had back in Sangala. Rather than wasting time being offended by his brusqueness, Walker gets right to the point, telling him they need his help with a national security issue. She invites him to sit down. Of course, he doesn't move.
Moss is watching this awkward interaction from a distance through Walker's window when Janis comes up, all crushy, and tells her she did some work tasks and asks if there's anything else he needs. He distractedly tells her no. "Has Bauer been indicted yet?" she asks. Moss tells her not yet, but it's only a matter of time. Failing a presidential pardon of some sort, and what are the chances of that? Kiefer would have to pull off something pretty impressive in the 24 hours or so.
Walker is explaining to Kiefer about the danger that could ensue were the national firewall to be breached, and he condescendingly reminds her, "I'm not active." So? Never stopped him before. He adds, "The DOJ is about to file criminal charges against me. I'm not exactly in a position to help you with your situation." Walker interrupts him with a news flash: "One of the men behind this threat is someone you know." She goes around to her monitor to pull up an image, which takes its sweet, dramatic time resolving into the face of none other than Tony Almeida. Now Kiefer sits down. "That's not possible," he murmurs. "Tony Almeida is dead." "Apparently not," Walker retorts. Kiefer tells Walker that he was there when Tony died. He even made a really weird face and everything. "And he was rushed away by the EMTs a minute later," Walker says. "You never saw him after that. And hours later, you were abducted by the Chinese government. Plus, there was no silent clock. QED." Except for the last part. Kiefer is still in denial, saying that Tony would have contacted him if he were still alive. Walker tells him the image he's looking at is security camera footage from the site of one of the technology thefts, time-stamped and dated. Sloppy, Tony. Still, Kiefer is about to walk out, until Walker calls after him, "I had Almeida's grave exhumed." The DNA proved it wasn't him. Then who was it? "The evidence is right here. If you want to leave without looking at it, go ahead." We all know that's not about to happen, so Kiefer slumps back into Walker's guest chair. This must be such a drag for him, when he'd probably much rather be having pissing matches with senators in front of news cameras.
Back at the hideout, a voice calls out to Donnie Pfaster, "Masters!" And as he steps out from the shadows with close-cropped hair, a poor shave, and an expression of bored annoyance that's clearly his version of "evil," Tony asks, "We in their system?" They are. Global Skies/Air flight 117 lifts off from the runway. To CERTAIN DOOM! Except Masters then whips off his headset, since the CIP module Latham made them has quit working. You can tell by the word "MALFUNCTION" in the corner of one of the screens. "I thought Latham said it was good to go," Tony complains. "Well, it's not," says Masters. Piqued, Tony takes the component back to the other room and orders a terrified Latham to fix it. "You're gonna want to move faster than that," he clarifies. "See, 'cause if you can't make this work in the few minutes, I won't need you any more." Instead of asking why they didn't kidnap him earlier if they were in such an all-fired hurry, Latham gets the message loud and clear: FIX IT! Although he doesn't ask whether Tony's going to keep needing him indefinitely. It's 8:16:55.
And I gotta say, absolute genius move to reveal Tony not only in the first episode, but in the first act. Obviously his return was pretty thoroughly spoiled a long time ago, so getting it out of the way as soon as possible was a great call. Plus I appreciate the show not expecting me to act surprised.
At 8:21:44, we're in the Oval Office, where President Allison Taylor is doing what all 24 presidents do in times of crisis: watching the news. Specifically, it's a "CNB" network report on General Juma, the Sangalan warlord we met in "Redemption." Apparently he's been busy in the last month and a half; he's killed almost 300,000 civilians. So far. It's the "so far" that puts this in Taylor's lap. Her Chief of Staff, Ethan Kanin (not to be confused with writer Ethan Canin, who to my knowledge has never been a senior administration official), mutes the TV and says this is the worst mass murder since Rwanda, but half the newspaper columnists are against U.S. intervention. Taylor predicts that the same pundits will accuse them of moral bankruptcy in six months if they do nothing. Damned if they do, damned if they don't, and fucked with their pants on if they're foolish enough to rely on the U.N. Looking at the TV, which is now showing images of a grinning Juma with a rifle slung over his shoulder, Taylor insists, "General Juma has to be stopped." Ethan says they're only awaiting her order to do so, and the Joint Chiefs are assembling in the Situation Room. Well, okay, it sounds like the decision has been made, then. Suddenly Taylor's husband Henry bursts in unannounced, saying a reporter is doing a CNB piece against moving in. Colm Feore, the actor who plays Henry, has always been a thin man, but some genius costume designer has put him in a suit that's a little too big, as though he's recently lost weight. The possible reasons for this will become apparent soon. Taylor's not happy to hear about the upcoming news report. "As if getting through this day won't be hard enough," she foreshadows. Henry offers to try to talk the reporter down, and she quietly gives him the go-ahead, against Ethan's suggestions. But now the Joint Chiefs are waiting, and Ethan hands her a briefing folder and starts to leave the room. Before going, Taylor clasps hands with her husband and says, "Wish me luck." "Luck," he responds, with admirable verbal economy.
As Taylor and Ethan cross the hall to the elevator with a small entourage, Ethan quietly expresses his concerns that Henry isn't up to this. "Henry's fine," says Taylor. "It's going to take more than a few months. He lost a son." Roger's dead? Wow, Jon Voight doesn't fuck around. Ethan says that she suffered the same loss, but hasn't let it interfere with her job. As they get off the elevator in the basement, he worries that Henry doesn't have her resilience. She snaps, "I'm about to take this nation to war and grief is a luxury I can't afford right now." Oh, sure, it's all about you.
They enter the Sit Room at 8:24:56, and everyone Sits. Taylor begins with a little speech thanking everyone, which we don't need to hear right now. Or indeed ever.
While Tony stands over him, Latham's workbench emits a beep. "It was overheating," Latham explains. "I came up with a workaround." And super-fast, too. I bet he puts in about five minutes a day at his regular job. Tony takes the component out of the room without so much as a thank-you. Back in the IT room, Masters plugs it back in, and they're back online. Whee! Let's fuck shit up!
At the Air Traffic Control bunker that we all remember from Pushing Tin, a few controllers' screens suddenly flicker. A supervisor comes over to investigate. Look out, Tony, a guy in a sweater vest is on the case.
Back at Walker's office, Kiefer is still looking for explanations for what Tony's up to. "He could be working undercover, some kind of sting operation." Walker says they've checked with every federal, state, and local agency and ruled that out. Kiefer thinks there's some explanation. He's doing this freelance? Trying to establish his own mom-and-pop counterterrorism operation? Walker's got it all figured out, though: "His wife was brutally murdered by a faction operating inside the government, led by the president himself." "Everybody involved with that is either in prison or has been killed," Kiefer reminds her. In turn, she reminds her that Logan got a sweet deal: "Sentencing him to house arrest on a hundred-acre ranch?" So does that mean Logan is actually dead? Last we saw, he was crashing in an ambulance after his ex-wife stabbed him with a fruit knife. Of course, we're not getting an answer now, as Walker goes on, "Almeida's lost everything he had, and he's blaming it on the government he spent his life serving." Sound like anyone we know? "You'd know better than me how that feels," she adds. "How far a man might go." Dude, this chick has done her homework. Kiefer still refuses to believe it. "Help me find Almeida and you can ask him yourself," Walker offers. "You know how he thinks, you had the same training, you know the same people." Kiefer gives in at last, but he does even that rudely by demanding full access to everything she's got. Walker is called out, and she leaves Kiefer alone with her computer to start looking. As any FBI agent would do when leaving a person being questioned by the Senate alone in her office.
It's 8:28:23 as Walker comes out onto the FBI floor to ask what's going on. Larry tells her about a call they just got from Northeast Air Traffic Control regarding a possible intrusion. That certainly went through channels quickly. Sean explains what this has to do with the main plot: "I don't think you get intrusions like this unless something's driving it, and the only way to drive it is through the CIP firewall." Having established that it looks like the bad guys are after Air Traffic Control, Larry grabs his cell phone and orders it, "Put me through to the White House." I don't think he gets how voice dialing works.
Aboard Global Air/Skies 117, a couple of flight attendants are making small talk in the galley when suddenly the plane gives a sharp lurch. The passengers and even the attendants look at each other nervously. "Doug said we were gonna hit some weather," recalls one attendant. You're going to hit more than that, lady.
Walker's leading Kiefer onto the floor as he's demanding someone from tech support to help him cross-reference. Good to see cross-referencing is still such a big deal on this show. She assigns him to Sean, of course, and tells him about the recent developments at ATC. "That doesn't make sense," protests Kiefer, and she snaps, "I don't need you to figure it out, Jack, just help me find him." She's kind of awesome. Reaching Sean's desk, Walker tells the glowering, slouching nerd to help Kiefer, and Janis will take over working with the FAA. Kiefer takes off his suit jacket and loosens his tie, because he's about to get busy, y'all. He pulls up a vacant chair to backseat drive while Sean pulls up the data files on the six tech thefts. Who does that chair belong to, though? Someone who's going to figure out how to work standing up, if they know what's good for them.
At the White House Situation Room, an admiral is just finishing up explaining how his air strikes can take out what little resistance Juma will be able to offer. "All we need to launch is a go order from you," he concludes. Taylor responds, "You'll get a green light as soon as I've gone over Secretary Stevens's post-invasion report. Which I'm still waiting for." "I'll have it for you in a few minutes, ma'am," promises the surly dad type who's playing her Secretary of State, and seeing that he doesn't look happy, she invites him to speak his mind. Stevens starts complaining about what a bad idea he thinks this is, and she cuts him off forcefully. "If you can't get behind what we're doing, I'll find a Secretary of State who can. But I am done with your hand-wringing." Jeez, lady, you asked. Ethan, who's been sitting there the whole time, interrupts to say there's a dude from Homeland Security in the hallway outside, and it can't wait. Funny, I don't see Ethan wearing a Lobot head-computer that downloads data directly to his brain. Taylor excuses herself, reminding Stevens to have the report waiting for her when she gets back. Now, don't go distracting him while he finishes it up, Joint Chiefs. I know how you like to mess with the State Department types.
In the hallway at 8:31:32, Ethan introduces a guy from Homeland Security named Tim, and tells him to snap it up so they can get back to the meeting. Tim quickly explains about the technology thefts, the abduction of Michael Latham, and the recent ATC glitches. A concerned Taylor asks, "Do I need to give the order to ground air traffic?" Tim says that would take at least twelve hours and possibly trigger a panic. His recommendation is to quietly decrease air traffic (which sounds to me like a lot of stranded, profoundly annoyed travelers at gates) while the FBI works on it and he keeps her briefed. "I don't like the timing of this," Taylor muses, wondering if this is connected to the Sangala operation. Clearly this is her first rodeo. Tim thinks it's more like "a domestic terror group. Homegrown. Strong anti-government bias." Taylor asks if they'll be able to catch the bad guys in time. Tim diplomatically says they have everyone on it. "You didn't answer my question," she says. "No, ma'am, I didn't," he agrees. Are we sure he isn't really from the Department of Homeland Smartasses? It's 8:33:14.
At 8:38:03, Henry appears to be in mid-debate with that reporter, Aldrich, a total fish-eyed weasel type. They discuss the merits of the invasion, until Henry offers, "If I gave you an exclusive preview of the President's post-invasion plans, you might change your mind." Aldrich pretends not to be tempted y the bribe: "What are you asking me to do? Stop writing, or write what I don't believe?" "Either one would be fine with me," Henry says, and cracks a smile. Just then, with the tension broken anyway, Henry's young-Brad-Pitt-looking Secret Service guy interrupts to say that Henry has a private phone call coming in. Henry asks the reporter to leave the room so he can take it, and the agent reports that the caller is Chuck Tolan. Chuck Tolan? CHUCK TOLAN? Okay, I have no idea who Chuck Tolan is, but Henry clearly does, and he takes the call.
At 8:39:23, Tolan is walking along the Mall as he talks to Henry on his cell phone. He appears to be a private investigator, and he tells Henry he just learned that Samantha, the girlfriend of Henry's dead son Roger, received a large deposit three days after Roger's suicide. "You mean his alleged suicide," Henry snits. All the PI knows is that Samantha came into $400,000 of apparently laundered money, and he's going to need to talk to her to find out more. Henry would rather talk to her himself, and after confirming that she still works at the Sloan Kittredge brokerage firm, he hangs up and tells his Secret Service agent they're going somewhere as soon as he finishes with the reporter. "And keep it off the manifest. I don't want anyone to know where we're going." The agent is about to comply, but then Henry says, "You think Chuck's taking advantage of me, don't you?" Reluctantly, the agent says, "Sir, the police and FBI have both investigated your son's death. And yes, I believe this PI could be exploiting your grief for personal gain. These so-called leads that he's generating have led nowhere." Henry insists that his son didn't kill himself. All the agent can do is mutter, "Yes, sir." On Rome, at least he would have been able to say, "As you say," which was a polite ancient Roman way to say, "whatever, dude."
At the FBI office, Walker checks in with Janis, who hasn't been able to find any evidence of an intrusion despite standing over another analyst and micromanaging her keystrokes. Janis follows Walker a short distance and asks, "Renee? Uh, what's gonna happen? If Almeida's broken through the firewall then we're screwed, right? I mean, crashing a couple planes is really nothing, compared to contaminating the water system or bringing down the power grid..." Walker advises Janis to not think about it and stay on task. Janis takes a couple of cleansing breaths and promises to stay calm. Walker seems to think that's a good idea. We're really in a hurry to put together a character for Janeane Garofalo, aren't we?
Still sitting to Sean, Kiefer is taking his tie off. He's going to be naked by the end of the second hour at this rate. He makes Sean pull up something else they've already looked at, and Sean's kind of grumpy about it, going by the comment he makes to Walker when she comes up to check on them. Kiefer explains that he's looking for an entry point. "They had access cards," Walker says. Kiefer says that since no one reported their access cards stolen, they must have been forged. Presumably he's already ruled out the possibility of six separate inside jobs. Anyway, these cards are apparently so hard to forge that only a couple of people could have done it. He asks Sean to access some old CTU files, specifically August 1999, code name Hatteras. Moss comes up, letting them know that Homeland told him how the briefing with Taylor went, and planes aren't being grounded yet. Sean has found the file Kiefer wanted, and adds, "You know, you could hire a fourteen-dollar-an-hour data applications geek to do this, you don't need me." "I wouldn't advertise that," Walker advises. Kiefer has found what he's looking for: he points at a name on Sean's screen, Gabriel Schechter, a supplier that both he and Tony knew back in the day and used to get stuff "off-book." CTU must have had really thin books. Although Schechter couldn't have been entirely off book, if he shows up in old CTU files. The photo of Schechter shows a dude with greasy hair and facial scars that make it look like someone once tried to scoop out his cheekbones. Probably Kiefer. Anyway, not only is Schechter in the FBI database, he came to D.C. nine weeks ago. A week before the first technology theft, in other words. "That's your guy," Kiefer obviouses. Moss has Sean pull up Schechter's D.C. office address, and gives the order for Walker to go get him while he calls a judge for a warrant. "That's a mistake," Kiefer protests from his chair, warning that Schechter will just lawyer up and stall until it's too late. "So," Moss says to Kiefer, "what's the alternative, Jack? Break in and torture the guy, like you used to do? Isn't that how you ended up in front of a Senate Subcommittee?" Doing his best to look dangerous, Kiefer gets up from his chair and invades Moss's personal space so he can glower at Moss close up. Moss, to his credit, is not intimidated, possibly because Kiefer comes up to about his collarbone. "Oh, is this how it starts?" he asks. "You get in my face, tighten your jaw, and if I say something you don't like you slam me against a wall?" Well, that's kind of off the table now, isn't it? So Kiefer just growls, "You have no idea what I do." I don't know, Kiefer, sounds to me like he's got your number. Right down to the tenth decimal place. He claims not to care if they take his advice or not. Which, you know, is why he's so bunchy right now. Before this can go further, Walker wades in to ask Kiefer how well Schechter knows him. "He knows me," Kiefer says. Walker asks for a minute with Moss, and when Moss steps away to talk to her, Kiefer gives a little tough-guy nod, like, "Yeah, I thought not." Dude, what a prick.
At 8:43:52, Walker tells Moss that she wants to take Kiefer along to get Schechter. "My guess is if he's in the room, Schechter will talk." Moss doesn't think this is such a great idea. "We're the FBI, not CTU. We honor the law, even when it's not convenient," he lectures. Walker reminds him that the President is in on this now, which is sufficient to intimidate her boss into giving in. Walker heads for the door, barely slowing down as she passes Kiefer's chair. "You're coming with me, and you're doing this my way," she orders. Close-up on Kiefer's face, which looks confused, ambivalent, and not a little turned-on. It's 8:45:02.
At 8:49:52, Walker is driving Kiefer down the street in her silver government SUV and asking about Schechter. Kiefer gives a little backstory about the dude that we don't really need to know, except that Kiefer and Tony arrested him and turned him. "He was a great conduit for intel." "CTU didn't mind that you let this guy stay in business?" Walker wonders. "CTU didn't know," Kiefer says. "It was just Tony and me." See what I mean about CTU's thin books? Kiefer confirms that he and Tony were close, back in the day. Walker summarizes the story so far: "So it sounds like Tony, who everyone thinks is dead, puts together a plan to hijack American security, he contacts Schechter to help him with his plan." "Yuh," Kiefer grunts. Walker asks if Kiefer's come around on her theory. "I believe that Tony's alive," Kiefer concedes. "I believe he's doing something dangerous and that we need to find him." That's good enough for Walker, for now.
At 8:50:56, Walker's SUV pulls up outside Schechter's building, where Teller and another agent are already waiting. After getting confirmation that Schechter's inside (Teller got a line!), Walker says she's going in with Kiefer. "I want Schechter to talk, I don't want to spook him," she explains. Wait, what?
At the White House Situation room, the Secretary of State is showing Taylor his report, which apparently he was able to finish during the meeting. "What happens when Matobo's men execute General Juma without a trial?" Stevens asks. "Should we intervene or let the mob tear him apart?" Wow, passive aggressive much? Taylor says she'll meet with the former Sangalan prime minister in a few minutes to make sure he and his men behave. She adds an apology for yelling at him in front of the Joint Chiefs, which he appreciates, but she's serious about needing his resignation if he can't get behind this. "Whatever doubts I have, I'll keep them to myself," he promises. "Good," she says. Sounds like a healthy working relationship. Just then Ethan enters to let Taylor know, "Henry Aldrich has agreed to delay his broadcast for 24 hours." Except the character's name is Kevin Aldrich. Oops. "Henry's doing?" Taylor asks happily, glad to hear that her husband is good for something after all besides being a walking coat rack. Ethan admits that he was wrong. As for the firewall thingy, Ethan reports that the FBI is "about to question" someone.
Kiefer and Walker lurk in the hallway outside Schechter's office, watching shadows move behind the textured glass door. Kiefer warns Walker that Schechter won't talk easily. Walker correctly understands this Kieferese phrase for "let me hurt him let me hurt him let me hurt him," and reminds him that this is an FBI operation and they're staying within the law. He all but rolls his eyes at her as she instructs him to threaten Schechter, but not touch him. "The minute I see you crossing that line, I will pull you back, understood?" Kiefer agrees. Wow, even he respects her now.
Walker raps on Schechter's door at 8:53:18, and a beefy bodyguard answers. Walker flashes her badge, and he closes the door on her so they can wait for Schechter in the hallway. When Schechter himself opens the door, he's pretty surprised to see Kiefer standing there to Walker. "Didn't know you were FBI," he says with a Scottish accent. "I'm not," Kiefer shrugs pleasantly. "Just came along for the ride." Walker explains that Kiefer's there on her authority, so Schechter's like, "That means I can hold you responsible for anything he does while he's here. I have a witness." Walker agrees to that, and Schechter lets them in and invites them to sit, right near a row of large, sunny windows that open out to the street beyond. Schechter starts right in on Kiefer. "How's the Senate thing doing? I hear they dismantled the CTU. Don't tell me -- it was your fault, wasn't it?" Walker says she has some questions, and starts right in with a big one: "Where is Tony Almeida?" Schechter acts surprised. "In the greyoond, I suppose. Unless he was cremated. Didn't he die at CTU a while back?" Seeing where this is going, Kiefer cuts Schechter off and tells him, "They're not after you. They're willing to accept that you didn't know what Tony Almeida was going to do with the components that you helped him steal." Schechter gets serious, denying any knowledge of anything. Having let Kiefer offer the carrot, Walker offers the stick: "You could be a co-conspirator to multiple terrorist attacks." Alarmed, Schechter says they're done talking. "I've tried to answer all your questions honestly [all one of them], but I think from now on, you can speak to my lawyers. So goodbye, Jack, and good luck with the Senate. I hope they fry your ass." Kiefer doesn't move, even though you can see that contentedly psychotic look he gets whenever a suspect mentions lawyers. Schechter calls the bodyguard, Ari, over to show them to the door, and they both get to their feet. But when Ari makes the mistake of taking Walker's arm to lead her out, she doesn't move, and in fact twists his own arm for him. And when he makes the further mistake of reaching for his gun, she has him disarmed and flat on the rug in about two seconds. In the meantime, Schechter produces a weapon of his own from the sofa cushion, and both Walker and Kiefer draw on him and order him to drop it. Which he wisely does. Wait -- Kiefer was issued a weapon? Schechter brays about the "unprovoked" attack. "Your man Ari was going for his gun. I've got a witness," Walker says. With the tables properly turned, Kiefer again asks where Tony is. Schechter refuses to talk, even while staring down the barrel of Kiefer's gun. Kiefer finally says to Walker, "What do you want me to do? This is your call." Because, by God, if he's going to torture someone, he's going to damn well make someone else a party to it. Walker responds, "Do whatever it takes." Aw, Renee, we were getting along so well. Kiefer holsters his gun, whispers, "I'm going to enjoy this," and grabs a ballpoint pen off the coffee table. He then climbs right into Schechter's lap like he's going to blind him with a Bic. Jeez, I'd hope for at least a nice Uniball. We'll never know if Kiefer or Walker were bluffing, because Schechter goes totally origami on us, agreeing to talk. Kiefer backs off, and a brief shot reveals that Ari is sitting up, although the fight appears to be gone from him. "There's no need for me to lose my good looks over this," Schechter jokes, and begins, "The last time I saw Almeida -- "
And suddenly there's a shattering of glass and two bullet holes blossom in Schechter's chest. I admit it, I jumped. I should have known better. I guess I'm a little rusty. But the same could be said of Kiefer. He and Walker draw their weapons and dive for cover behind the window supports while a rooftop sniper across the street reloads and shoots Ari. Kiefer asks if Walker's all right, dares a look out the window, and sees a figure fleeing along the railing atop the neighboring building. "Tell your men they've got a shooter on top of the Columbia building heading south," Kiefer yells at Walker. Walker barks into her walkie-talkie, and we see a large number of plainclothes agents and guys in FBI windbreakers at street level begin to swarm across the street. Hopefully they can put up a better perimeter than CTU ever could.
Suddenly Schechter's cordless phone rings, and for some reason Kiefer answers it. "Get away from this, Jack," says Tony's voice. "There's nothing you or the FBI can do about this. Just stay away." Kiefer begs Tony to talk to him, but his old friend has already hung up. Well, at least now Kiefer will back off, right?
In the final splitscreen, Kiefer and Walker stare significantly at each other, Tony glowers, Henry Taylor rides in the back of a Secret Service limo, and Taylor is closing down the Sit Room with Ethan and Stevens. At the FBI, Moss asks about what's going on at Schechter's office. Sean just says they haven't checked in yet.
It's 8:58:12 as we rejoin Global Air/Skies 117, beginning their descent into what they think will be JFK. But after the controller gives them their instructions, his headset goes dead. He reports the problem to his supervisor, who stands slack-jawed for a moment before ordering, "Call back the FBI! Tell them we have a 767 on approach to JFK no longer under our control." The controller continues trying to raise the cockpit, without success.
The pilots of GSA 117 are unaware that anything is amiss, because they think they're talking to a legit controller. They are in fact talking to Tony Almeida, impersonating a controller as he sends them into their descent. After taking off his headset, Tony tells Masters, "Get ready to make the course change." Masters seems surprised. "We're really taking this all the way?" he asks. Tony responds, "You just need to do exactly what I tell you to do." It's 9:00:00. Oh, man, how long are we going to have to wait to find out what happens ?
M. Giant is a Minneapolis-based writer with a wife, a son, and a number of cats that seems to have settled at around two. Learn waaaay too much about him at Velcrometer, follow him on Twitter (mgiant), or just e-mail him at M.Giant[at]gmail.com