Previously on Alias: A bunch of qualified stunt professionals set themselves on fire and ran around in a church. But who cares? This episode has SpyRentSex! Whoop whoop!
We open on three men walking down a hallway, one short, one tall, and one roughly the size of a 1958 Edsel Ranchero. The short guy is chattering on a cell phone in Russian or Czech or Slavic or who really gives a shit? The other two guys are clearly Short Slav's Useless Henchmen of No Purpose. Hey, whatever ups the body count, right?
The three men approach a bank of elevators, and Short Slav enters, followed by the tall craggy Useless Henchman. Ranchero sees a woman and her daughters waiting for the elevator, and does this weird thing where he sort of asseses them and touches the girls on the shoulders and then kind of shoves them off, away from the elevator. Well. He certainly is polite for a Useless Henchman. So, Ranchero finally gets on the elevator and Tall Crag hits the button. For which floor, you ask? Why? Is that important? Well, the button he presses bears the number forty-seven. Is that significant? Is that weird? Is that a sign? Are those the four horsemen I hear? IS THIS THE APOCALYPSE?
Oh. No. It's just another errant usage of the number forty-seven. Pretty soon, everything's going to come back to this fucking number. Syd will be having a romantic dinner at Chez Louis and they'll order the Montrachet '47. Spy Mommy will do four hundred and forty-seven push-ups. In a row. Without assistance. Spy Daddy will purse his lips forty-seven times and blow forty-seven blood vessels in his forehead. I'll down forty-seven vats of grain alcohol in an effort not to pick up my television and force-feed it to the crazy woman who lives on the first floor and always buzzes me at seven in the morning when she's taken her dog out for a walk and has forgotten her key.
Back with the Eastern Bloc Boys, the Elevator To Nowhere suddenly stops on the forty-sixth floor and won't continue. Tall Crag mashes his paw against the button for the forty-seventh floor a couple of times, but all that happens is the elevator gears grind and I grab the nearest razor blade and start carving the number forty-seven all over my left thigh.
As the sterling sounds of Barry Manilow muzak drift over the elevator speakers, Short Slav grimaces and nods at Tall Crag that he should give that oh-so-successful button-mashing thing a try again. Yeah. Because that worked so well the first time around. That's like when you walk up to an elevator and press the button and stand there waiting and someone else walks up and you just KNOW they're going to push the button, even though you pushed it first and it's lit and PUSHING IT A DOZEN MORE TIMES ISN'T GOING TO MAKE IT COME ANY FASTER, PENISHEAD.
But they always do it. Always.
And Tall Crag's no different. He slams the hell out of that button, eliciting groans and creaks from the elevator machinery. Like, STOP THAT, dude! What, do you want to bring the whole damn elevator crashing to the...oh, never mind. After the ninth fist to the button, Tall Crag takes a breather, and it's then that they hear a mysterious beeping coming from the roof of the elevator. Yeah. It's not a carbon monoxide alarm, boys. It's the sound of your death, blipping away at you.
Sure enough, a second later, a bomb goes off and the elevator goes plummeting down. The muzak conveniently continues as our boys from the bloc freak the hell out. The elevator screeches to a halt, and Short Slav makes the announcement that it must be the emergency brakes that stopped them. Yeah, well, emergency brakes don't really matter when you're doing an homage to Speed, now do they? And with that, the elevator falls for its second, and final, time.
The boys lie dead in the bottom of the car as we hear the sound of something banging against the doors. Suddenly, they peel open and a pair of sleek Kenneth Coles are revealed. The shoes enter the car, a hand reaches down and grabs what looks like a wallet off one of the boys, and the shoes retreat. The camera pans up, and lo and behold, it's Sarkie! Good god, David Anders is cute. And his hair's doing this funky little curl-up thing at the back and mmmm...
Owen! What're you doing here? I thought you had that brotherly retreat thing in the Andes with Luke and Andrew! Huh? What? What, that stuff about David Anders? Oh, hush, honey. That's nothing. He's a mere plaything! You're the one I want to share my featherbed with! But if you bring that bizarre voodoo doll to bed again, I might be forced to reconsider my "plaything" assessment of David Anders and his adorable curl-up hair. Got it?
So, after the falling elevator bit, we're hit over the head with the Alias title placard before heading into the scene, where Kendall explains just who in the hell Short Slav really was. Namely, a big Russian arms dealer. Or something. "Your ex-wife mentions --" Spy Daddy snaps his face up and goes, "I'd appreciate it if you'd refer to Irina Derevko by name. Or, at least, 'two-faced bitch.' Is that too much to ask?" Heh. I just made that last part up for me.
Spanky Kendall and Alfalfa Bristow go back and forth about how Irina listed Short Slav as a contact when she was debriefed and Sloane used to have dealings with him back at SD-6. Alfalfa announces that he'll talk to his girl Darla about her association with Short Slav and then walks off. Spanky's all, yeah, uh, sorry about the whole "ex-wife" thing, dude. Snicker snicker. Sneer sneer. Alfalfa just turns and is all, what? Don't be silly. Oh, and what's that on your shirt? Phhhfthhht! Gotcha!
Mama Hari's Den Of Delights. Lena Olin's back! Yay! Holy cheesecake. Is she ever HOT! Dudes. I have a full-on girl crush on her. Seriously. It's not right. Aaaaanyway, Jack's pressed up against the glass (no, not like THAT) with his hands on either side, sort of high up on the window. Like, I only mention it because I've never even SEEN Jack use his arms for anything other than making sure he doesn't look like C3PO when he walks. Putting him in this posture is probably significant, don't you think? He looks really relaxed and kind of sexy and sort of GQ suddenly. Plus, like, he has ARMS, people! And he's not afraid to use them!
So, Jack's all, honey? You know that Russkie dwarf you used to know? Well, he just wound up dead at the bottom of an elevator shaft and we're pretty damn sure that our favorite rogue Rambaldi enthusiast is behind it. And Short Slav's wallet? Poof! It's gone missing. Since Sloane has small countries to overthrow and dead wives to resurrect, we're assuming that he didn't lift the wallet for the Starbucks card. What could he possibly be looking for? Huh? Did I mention how cute you look in that muscle tee?
Irina just looks at him and says, "Why haven't you tried to convince Sydney to leave the CIA?" Jack just looks disgustedly at the ground as if to say, "Oh, for Christ's sweet biscuits! Here we go. It's The 'Let's Discuss How Terrible Of A Father I Am' Show! Only, this is a REPEAT, sister! Now, answer the fucking question before I come in there and throw you to the ground and suck on your earlobes and mmmm..."
Ahem.
Irina's all, you should totally be convincing Sydney to get out of the CIA, like, now! Jack's all, yeah, well, she's her mother's daughter, okay? And she's just as fucking stubborn as YOU are, if not more! And she's sticking around 'til she puts a bullet in Sloane's brain, which, considering how many times she's had the chance to do so and still managed to fuck it up, could take until 2006. So how about answering the question now, oh Grand Duchess of Avoidance?
Mama Hari finally deigns to answer his question and tells him that Sloane was probably looking for a keycard to Short Slav's home safe. Turns out Short Slav had himself a Rambaldi manuscript. Satan Sloane probably thinks it's still in Short Slav's home safe. Bzzzz! Wrong answer, Satan Sloane. Short Slav sold that 'script to some Ilya dude who's living in Bangkok.
[Insert your own politically incorrect joke involving the word "Bangkok" here. And make it dirty -- we don't run a clean site here at Television Without Pity.]
Jack's all, yeah, yeah, yeah, enough about the banging in the cock or whatever. What in the hell's this manuscript, anyway? Irina's all, it's Rambaldi's study of the human heart. "As you know, immortality was one of Rambaldi's obsessions," she says, sort of shrugging in an endearing manner. Actually, no, Irina, I did NOT know about Rambaldi's obsession with mortality. Would another one of his obsessions happen to be with the number forty-seven? Because it sure seems to be one of J.J. Abrams' obsessions...
So Jack's like, right, where's the manuscript? Irina's all, I don't know, sweetie. But I could find out if, uh, you guys would let me outta here for a little leg stretching! Jack just squints and purses and looks at his wife -- oops! I mean EX-wife -- oops! I mean IRINA -- and tells her that Spanky McCrankyPants Kendall wouldn't allow it. Ever. Infinity. Irina's all, yeah, but what if it were worth it? I mean, really worth it? I mean, maybe, if you get me alone somewhere, I'll do that thing to you involving some duct tape and a feather...
Suddenly, Jack's interest is piqued. The wheels start turning as he and Irina discuss how Sloane doesn't know that Irina's in custody; he thinks she's in hiding, as he is. Jack's all, if Sloane thinks you've come out of hiding and nabbed the manuscript, he'll want to meet up with you and negotiate a purchase. "Which I'd be happy to do," smiles Irina. I bet you would, sister. "And we could grab him," says Jack, obviously thinking that someone will be grabbing him relatively soon and that him is, well, HIM, not Sloane. "And give Sydney her reason to get out," finishes Irina. They look at each other with the light of a totally un-thought-out and highly risky plan shining in their eyes.
Ron's Rink of Randiness. Jennifer Garner's standing in the middle of an ice rink as Michael Vartan scoots around her so that we can all see just how good he is on skates. The framework of this scene is that Vaughn's teaching Syd to play hockey. Yeah. Whatever. Just show Michael Vartan smoothing around the surface some more, okay? And make sure you highlight his butt.
Syd does a little putt action (hee!) and manages to get it past Vigorous Vaughn at the goal. She also manages to whip herself right into his arms. Tee. Tee hee. It's really cute. She scores and she scores! Durr. He's all, you've done this before! She's all, never, I swear! I haven't skated since I was five! He's all, I don't believe you! She's all, really, my mother took me! Okay. Buzzkill, Syd. You know you're NEVER supposed to mention your MOTHER around your BOYFRIEND. Especially when your MOTHER offed his FATHER. God! Will she NEVER learn?
As soon as the word "mother" slips out from between her lips, Vaughn goes all quiet and serious and dude! Grow the fuck up, okay?! I realize you're all meaningful and soul-heavy and shit, but just lighten the fuck up and go get a pretzel! It's hockey, not marriage counseling. Christ on a Christmas fruitcake.
Syd's all, uh, yeah, in case you think I'm blind, what is UP with you? Sooner or later we're going to have to, you know, talk about this or something. In true juvenile avoidance fashion, Vaughn starts skating circles around Syd as he blips, "Syd, there's nothing to say. We both know what happened. What's there to say?" Skate. Skate skate. Syd's all, uh, I'm thinking A LOT. Vaughn's all, yeah, well, nothing I wanna talk about. Skate. Skate skate. Oh, and neener. Neener neener.
Syd very directly and forcibly says, "I'm sorry." "Don't be sorry," says Wayne Gretzky Jr. "Don't ever be sorry for her." Man. He's being sort of a toolbox right now. Like, I appreciate that her mom killed his dad and whatever, but go to therapy or something and get it over with. The silent forehead wrinkling routine went out with Dylan McKay and French manicures, okay?
Thank holy Buddha, Syd's cell phone rings right then and she has to leave. Vaughn acts all chipper all of a sudden and gives Syd this kind of dismissive peck on the cheek and skates off. Syd looks distracted and distraught and stares down at the ice as if she'll find an explanation there for why the costume department keeps dressing her in striped turtlenecks.
thing we know, we're in Richard Lewis's office at the CIA. The what? The who? The how? Whoa. Wait. It IS the apocalypse. Who'd Lewis blow to get this job? I mean, not that he's not great and everything, but...well, I can't say that I really think he's great. I think the only time I've ever actually liked Richard Lewis was when he was on that show Anything But Love with Jamie Lee Curtis years ago. I used to love staying home sick and watching reruns of it on Lifetime. But that's about it. He's got his shtick and it's gotten him far and I really don't know why he's on this show.
Syd enters, and two things strike me. One, Richard Lewis looks much older and more nebbishy than I've seen him look in forever, and two, he looks like an older version of J.J. Abrams. Really. He could be his uncle or something. Anyway, Syd comes in and introduces herself, and Lewis tells her to take a seat. Looks like she's being videotaped. Then some dude puts some documents down in front of her and tells her that he needs her thumbprint and signature on all of them. Syd just looks around the room.
Lewis stares at her over his granny glasses and states that the documents are confidentiality agreements, and if she violates them and talks about what's discussed, it'll be a felony. Ohhhh-kay. That clears it right up. Could someone, like, TELL US WHY SHE'S THERE? I really don't think I'd be putting my John Thumbcock on any document until ol' "I'm in pain" over here did a little explaining. But maybe that's just me, because Syd just thumbprints away without a second thought.
After Lewis's assistant leaves, he asks Syd if she's familiar with some Russian guy by the name of Vladimir. Syd's all, not unless he's the guy who whistled at my ass when I passed by the construction site at the corner of Ninth and Buena this morning. Lewis then says something about her being in France with Vaughn recently, and asks if she saw him use a pay phone or buy cigarettes. She's all, uh, no. And believe me, if he'd used a pay phone, I would have known because, like, I spent hours just watching him walk. That man can swagger. And as for the cigarettes thing, well, if I caught him even THINKING about smoking, I'd make him eat an entire pack of Lucky Strikes, okay?
Speaking of which...flick...ahhhhh...
Lewis kind of smiles snidely at her and then asks if Syd and Vaughn are knockin' da boots on a regular basis. Syd's all, blow me, fuckmuffin. That's none of your goddamn business. Lewis is all, yeah, kind of an awkward question, isn't it? I have to say, Richard Lewis is really awesome here. He's sort of got a Danger Nerd aspect to him. Like he's sort of dorky and lacking in social graces, but you totally know he could pull out some nunchakus and go martial on your arts.
Syd demands that she be given an idea as to what in the hell is going on and who the hell is he? Lewis kindly and tersely informs her that he's a counter-intelligence threat analyst, and that it's basically his job to find out just why in the hell Vaughn's been contacting a bunch of unapproved foreign operatives and also pursued contact with this Vladimir dude, who also just happens to be a former KGB assassin with known ties to at least three terrorist organizations. Syd gets all uppity with Lewis, spewing something about how this is impossible! Lewis just cuts her off and tells her that Vaughn has no idea he's being investigated, and if Syd takes it upon herself to inform Vaughn of this fact, her ass will be tossed in jail while also adding her name to the list of suspects. So, just for the record, will you be engaging in any pillow talk later this evening with your non-boyfriend or WHAT? Syd doesn't answer, instead choosing to stare at him in an attempt to make sense of why Marty Gold is badgering her into talking about nookie.
Yeah. I'm going to need a whole lot of grain alcohol to get through this episode. Owen! Honey! Mix me up a batch of cayenne pepper and Everclear martinis, okay? It's going to be a long night.
When we return from the first of far too many commercial breaks, Alfalfa's trying to convince Spanky to let Irina out for some CIA-sanctioned fun in the sun at the old Bang and Cock. Spanky Von Vitriol isn't having any of it. Jack presses the issue, stating that, if Irina hadn't been along during the Kashmir jaunt, it would have wound up being a complete and utter embarrassment. Wait. Which part of that assignment WASN'T an embarrassment? The screw-up with the truck? The weapons mishap? The all-chambers-firing showdown set to U2's "Walk On"? Are you saying that was all GOOD? Dude. Eat some more 'shrooms and go play hide the peanut with Irina's navel. You're all done here.
"Jack, when the HELL did we switch places?" spits Spanky O'Shaddapalready. "Derevko could be using this operation just to convince us that she's trustworthy." "I've had twenty years to reflect on that woman's ability to deceive," snaps Jack. "Trust me. If she lies to me again, I'll know it." Really, Jack? Will that be before or after you down half a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon and make nice-nice with the missus between the sheets at some hotel in the near future? Not that that's going to happen or anything...
Mama Hari's Den Of Delights. Irina's saying something about how her contact works out of a club in Bangkok. "Why?" she asks, knowing the answer already. "Did Kendall approve the op?" Jack affirms that he did and that a plane's standing by. Just then, there's a knock at the door. It's Marshall, clutching a small silver suitcase and looking extremely afraid of Irina. Hee. Under the phrase "abject fear" in the dictionary, there's a picture of Marshall Flinkman, wringing his hands and trying to keep his eyeballs from sweating. Hee.
From the other side of the glass, Marshall geeks at Irina about how awesome her daughter is. Ignoring Marshall for the moment, Jack informs Irina that Spanky La Lordingitovereveryone insists on her being injected with a sub-dermal tracking device. Marshall then enters and stands to Jack and starts immediately pooing out of his mouth. I know I never recap his dialogue, but I'm making an exception here because I've watched this scene five times now and every time I just giggle and giggle and giggle.
"Yeah," he stutters, "you won't even really know it's there unless, you know, we put it under your thigh or somewhere else where you might sit on it and then you'll have, like, a Princess and the Pea moment where you feel it, but you don't. Do you know that Princess and the Pea? My mother --" "Just put it behind her shoulder," snaps Jack. And that's where I giggle every time. They fucking kill me. And it's a totally obvious comedy bit, you know, the geeky blabbermouth and the people he annoys, but when it's done well, it's just damn funny every single time.
Marshall hems and haws and hesitates because he's concerned that the insertion of the device will hurt. Irina just silently pulls her hair over one shoulder, turns, and pulls up the side of her black wifebeater. I'm telling you, the CIA really has an excellent makeup artist on staff. Irina's peachy lipstick is stunning. And perfectly applied.
Even though Marshall's momentarily put off by Irina's steely demeanor, he finally steps forward and shoots something into her skin. She doesn't even flinch. "Wow," he says, impressed, "you're tough." "You think that's tough, Flinkman? You should see her naked." Both Irina and Marshall turn to look at Jack. "What? Oh. Did I say that out loud? My bad."
Back with Lewis Carroll and Alice, Special Agent Shut Up is asking Syd if her boyfriend's made any big purchases lately. What, like nuclear weapons? He's not fucking Saddam Hussein, okay? Oh. Wow. I just typed that name and spell check didn't even blink. Does this mean that he's become such an accepted part of our culture that Microsoft put his name into our goddamn DICTIONARY? That shit ain't right.
I could go off on the whole war thing, but I'm a lover, not a fighter, and I think we should just give peace a chance and love the fuzz and pass the doobie, Owen! Your honey's getting a little distracted over here.
Syd and Shut Up have this back-and-forth about Vaughn's cell phone and if he's changed it in the past six months. Whatever. Then Shut Up asks Syd if she has access to Vaughn's private laptop. Heh. Hi. This would be me. Waving at you from the gutter. "You know, while he's sleeping or in the shower or out of the house?" continues Shut Up. Wow. He's subtle. Did they teach you how to bung up a Q & A session in counter-intelligence school? Or did you learn that all on your own? Syd's all, uh, we don't live together, dingleberry. "Yeah, I know, I understand that," says Shut Up, channeling the Richard Lewis of days gone by. Syd's all, okay, be straight with me here, Fester -- what, exactly, are you asking me? Shut Up says something about some decryption program that Vaughn may have downloaded to his personal laptop (tee hee!), and how, if he has, he's gone one step past the wrong side of the law.
"That's insane," says Syd. Good one, Syd. Did they teach you how to poorly deflect badly worded questions in super-spy school? Or did you learn that all on your own? Shut Up's all, yeah, it very well may NOT be the sanest idea we've ever had, but nevertheless..."You want me to check Vaughn's computer," says Syd, jumping to conclusions. She's jumped in the right direction, apparently, because Shut Up asks her to make a little disk image of Vaughn's hard drive and bring it back to him. That's all! So simple!
Syd splutters and spews and makes a grand statement that Vaughn would never be a traitor. Never! Never, I tell you! "You know, I knew your mother," Shut Up says, cutting Syd off mid-defense-of-the-boyfriend. "About twenty years ago. Met her with your father. We used to go to a lot of these agency functions, you know. She was...charming. Very disarming woman...who wasn't what she seemed." Yeah. That has so much to do with the rest of this scene. Shut up, Shut Up! Syd's all, okay, you, you bifocal-ed GNAT! It is a big ol' mistake for you to confuse my boyfriend with anything involving my mother. Shut Up's all, yeah, well, she put a bullet in his daddy's brain, sister. I think that merits some consideration, don't you? Syd's all, I will NOT spy on my new boyfriend! "Miss Bristow," says Shut Up, looking for all the world like J.J. Abrams's crazy Uncle Utna, "what is your priority? National security or your new boyfriend?" Oh, go suck a lemon, Shut Up.
After leaving Shut Up to ponder how a comedian can get only so far in this world after years in the comedy club trenches, Syd storms down a hall and runs into Agent Sean. She's all, where's Vaughn? Agent Sean's all, oh, sure, that's all I am to you, isn't it? Just a conduit to your boyfriend! Remember that thing I said about Agent Sean being a bitter and wilted wallflower? Lather. Rinse. Repeat. Oh, and hee!
Syd's all, no, you little girly-man, I'm just -- Agent Sean cuts her off: "Have you ever seen Vaughn and said, 'Hey, where's Weiss?'" Hee. Syd's all, I'm just looking for him, you whiner. Go shave your legs or something. Agent Sean's all, I'll do that right after I head over to the briefing room. And, no, I haven't seen your boyfriend. You know what all this shit's about anyway? Syd's all, uh, no. And Sean? If Vaughn weren't in the picture, I would SO be diggin' your chili right about now, okay? So drop the spurned lover bit and move the fuck on.
Bangkok. Hee. That needs no quippy introduction. It's just funny on its own. The thrumming beats of "Blue" by La Tour can be heard. And, yeah, it's that song from the club scene in Basic Instinct. Jack sits at the bar, drinking what looks like scotch, as the music kicks into its cymbal beat. Irina enters, wearing a leopard-print chemise tossed over a lacy black bra. Yowza. Her hair is rather large, unfortunately, and her makeup is absolutely hideous, but neither of these things really detracts from the almost molten heat she's giving off. That rivulet of moisture you see running down Jack's forehead? Yeah. That would be his icy reserve melting away.
Irina slinks her way through the club, and if her hips were weapons, everyone in the place would be dead. God, I have a knack with old-style phrase turning. Irina makes it to the gateway to some private hump-hump area in the back, but a guard won't let her through. She speaks Thai to the dude, and it's really funny to see Lena Olin wrap her Swedish lips around a Thai dialect. It sounds like horns honking. The guard thoroughly checks her out and then lets her in.
The guy she's come to see is playing a little knife game with one of the Thai hookers. You know that game that Bishop played with Hudson in Aliens? Yeah, that one. Irina enters the back area and says something snarky to her former boy toy in Russian. Then, in English, she tells him to get rid of the girl and play with her instead. After the girl skitters off, Irina takes a seat, and I'm delighted to see that she pays no attention to the fact that she's wearing a short dress and pretty much just sits like a man, legs spread, back straight. Lord almighty. Is it hot in here or is it just me? Somebody open a window. Phew!
Irina places her hand squarely on the table and says, "You know me. I love games." Knife Guy readies the knife and makes the first jump. Irina gasps with pleasure. I'm sorry. That looks so corny when I write it. But that's what she did! He speeds up, the music does too, and the game continues until, finally, he stops, obviously turned on by Irina. She grabs the knife and stabs his hand. He shouts, and one of his Useless Henchmen steps forward. Irina smartly takes the dagger out of Knife Guy's hand and puts it to his throat instead, yelling at the bodyguard to drop his gun. Useless Henchman wisely decides to drop his gun, and Irina starts questioning Knife Guy about the Rambaldi manuscript. Seems he doesn't have it anymore. Sold it for opium rights to a guy named "Chang." Irina seems to think for a moment, then slices Knife Guy's throat, stabs the Useless Henchman, and flings the dagger into the chest of the guard. Is it wrong that I find her even hotter now? I mean, wrong in ways other than the fact that I'm a straight woman with an imaginary Texan boyfriend?
Irina makes haste out of the back room, and some guard appears out of nowhere, with a gun pointed right at her. We hear a shot, but it's not from the guard. Instead, he's shot, falls to the ground, and we see that it was indeed her beloved ex-husband who just saved her ass. She looks at him in surprise, spins with her hair fanning out around her, and makes for the exit.
Plane of Impending Inappropriateness. Jack and Irina are seated opposite each other as Jack asks her how, once they get their hands on the manuscript, they'll let Sloane know that it was Irina who stole it? Irina, looking far more lovely than she did in her incarnation as a Bang and Cock hooker, what with her mellowed-out makeup and loose chignon, just says something about how, once word gets back to Sloane that she was in Bangkok, he'll know that it was her who nabbed the manuscript.
Irina gets quiet for a moment and looks out the window. "I did not see that fourth man," she says, showing the slightest emotion. "If you hadn't fired..." Jack says nothing, but there actually is a look of guarded tenderness on his face. How does Victor Garber DO that? Irina goes on to say something about the first time Jack introduced her to Sloane and how they were both working at the CIA at the time. "You were true friends," she finishes. "Yes," says Jack rather curtly. "We shared a similar unsentimental patriotism..." He pauses for a second, and his voice changes. "And a devotion to our wives." Irina nods slightly, acknowledging what Jack just said. I nod slightly, acknowledging that Victor Garber rocks my world. Jack then says something about how Sloane changed and that it was Rambaldi that did it. "Sloane has a personal connection to Rambaldi," says Jack. What? Like what? He's Rambaldi's descendant? He washed Rambaldi's car back in the old days? What? WHAT?
Irina blathers something about how she shared Sloane's obsession, to find a higher meaning in Rambaldi's work. No, really, Irina? That wouldn't have anything to do with that whole part later on in the show where you totally betray and humiliate the man who swore never to trust you again, now would it? Oh, but I'm getting ahead of myself here.
"I never understood how you managed to avoid getting caught up in it," she says, referring to all the rage over Rambaldi. "I had something neither of you did," says Jack somewhat grimly. "Sydney," says Irina, nodding. Jack starts to move away from her, but Irina grabs his hand, stopping him. "I never thanked you for everything that..." she stops for a second. Jack looks down at her. "For raising our daughter." Now, she's either the best damn KGB actress in the world, or she really means this. Good god, I even forgave her! Jack barely reacts, showing only a bit of a blinking emotion in his eyes, and tells her to get some rest because they land in four hours. He walks away, and Irina tries not to look at his ass as he leaves.
Ovary Electric. Vaughn's in a tizzy over the Irina/Jack op. He's all, did you know about this? Syd's all, uh, yeah. Why? Vaughn's all, how'd you know? Huh? Did you get a memo? An email? A banner ad? She's all, well, let's see...I think...yeah, my dad told me, you bleating sheep. What's your problem? Vaughn's all, what, was it a professional courtesy or or or WHAT? She's all, MY DAD TOLD ME. What, are you a DEAF traitor now?
"Isn't that weird to you?" he spews, the forehead wrinkles dancing across the vast expanse of skin at the top of his head. "That they wouldn't involve us at all, the decision to reintroduce Irina Derevko to the world and we're not consulted?" Syd tries to remain calm and starts treating her boyfriend like rabid lapdog on steroids. "We can't be part of every operation," she says, moving toward him quietly, trying not to make any sudden movements. "Well, this one we shoulda been," he says. "And all the other ones too. And where were you last night when I called? And where'd you get that sweater? And DON'T YOU LOVE ME ANYMORE?"
"I wouldn't read into it," says Syd. "And you'd better bring it down a few notches, loverboy, or the sight of me in my Victoria's Secret WonderBra will be lost to you FOREVER." She kind of smiles at him and he gets this expression on his face and in his body that's like, yeah, I know, I'm being a toolbox. Sorry. "Mind if I use your shower?" he asks. Huh? What? You're all twirly about Irina and now you need to go wash your back? The hell? Syd just smiles and allows him to go peel off his clothes and run hot water over his...mmmmm...
Oops. Excuse me. As the exotic strains of The Flute Of Sydney's Possible Betrayal are heard, Syd looks significantly at Vaughn's briefcase which houses the computer that has the program that will confirm Vaughn's treacherous activities. The shower goes on in the bathroom, and Syd goes to the fridge in an effort to ignore the briefcase which houses the computer that has the program that will confirm Vaughn's treacherous activities. She can't ignore it for long, however, and quickly moves toward it and opens the case, pulling out Vaughn's ultra-cool iBook.
There's a nice touch here, I might add, when Syd opens the computer itself. It's this: the trackpads are realistically dirty, as if Vaughn uses the computer all the time. I just loved that. I didn't notice it the first time I watched this episode, but the couple of times I've rewound this scene made it jump out at me. I have no idea why this pleases me, but I probably would have said something relatively negative if she'd opened it up and it was all spangly and new. I'm weird that way, though.
The computer's powered up and the screen comes into focus. Syd starts typing something on the keyboard. The music gets louder and sharper until Syd looks in the direction of the bathroom where Vaughn's soaping up and ends on a dun dun DUN! Vaughn yells, "Honey! We're out of Herbal Essences! Can you bring me another bottle?" Syd can't hear him because that last DUN actually rendered her hearing-impaired. She just continues looking down the hall as if there's a camera trained on her and her boyfriend betrayal. Which, considering that this is The House Of Hidden Surveillance Equipment, is probably very likely.
After an extended trip to Martha Stewart's World of Cheap K-Mart Shit, we're back with Will and Francie and a couple glasses of fine red wine. Speaking of wine...gulp. Excellent Nuclear Mai-Tai, sweetie! You're getting good at these! Wait. What's that flavor I'm tasting? Battery acid! Oh, Owen! You're so good to me.
Hi, Will! Everyone say hi to Will. He's back, and he seems to be reverting to good old Willage Idiot behavior, because he's going, "What I'm about to tell you, you can't tell anybody. Swear to me." Oh, Willage. It's good to have you back. Francie smiles and swears not to tell anyone. Anything. Ever. Or to have a human emotion. Anytime. Ever. Will takes a huge slurp of wine. I think I'll join him. Slurrrrp. Mmm. Battery acid.
Will takes a deep breath and then launches into his story about how Syd actually works for the CIA. Francie's all, come on! Not really! Will's all, think about it! What kind of bank sends their employees all over the freakin' world like that! It's a cover job. And it's not even a GOOD cover job. Amen to that, brother. I think that's a confirmed shout-out if I've ever heard one.
Francie's not buying it, however. Will says, "Oh, I am telling you, I have seen her in action. She's like Schwarzenegger. She's like the old Schwarzenegger. She's amazing!" What's with the Schwarzenegger obsession here? Was that intentional? First it was Marshall last week with the whole Predator thing and now this? And I'd say Syd's more like Jean-Claude Van Damme than Schwarzenegger. Have YOU ever seen Schwarzenegger deliver a roundhouse kick in mid-air? I don't THINK so.
Anyway, this is obviously a dream, because not only is Francie not acting like Francinator, she's smiling and engaging and, you know, HUMAN. She asks if Will is CIA too. He tells her he's just an analyst. Francie suddenly switches to Francinator and whips, "Really?" Then, boom! Will wakes up in a cold sweat. He looks down at Francie, sleeping to him in the bed. And, uh, shirtless Will. That's all I have to say. Shirtless Will. Sigh.
The following morning, Will comes out of Francie's room. He's wearing a t-shirt and boxer shorts. No, it's not important! But he's cute! Oh, so cute. He'd be cuter if he were shirtless, but beggars can't really be choosers, now can they? He's all tousled and sleepy-faced, and he walks into the kitchen. He passes behind Vaughn, sitting at the counter, and goes, "Hi," in this sort of, "Yeah, I'm not surprised YOU'RE here," tone of voice. Vaughn, however, used to keeping his relationship with Syd under wraps, is rather discomfited by Will's easygoing acceptance of the situation. He kind of looks around at Will briefly, turns, rubs his hand across his face, and goes, "...Mornin'..." Hee. I laugh out loud at this scene every time I see it. I just love how Bradley Cooper and Michael Vartan get across the newness of this entire situation in about two seconds. I love them. And not in the scary stalker kind of way.
Will goes to the fridge and asks where the girls are. Vaughn wrinkles at him that Syd just went to work and Francie left twenty minutes ago. Speaking of work, Vaughn, why aren't YOU there? Unless you're heading out for lands unknown in search of more traitorous activities, I'd say your adorable little heinie should be making tracks to Oops Center right about now. Will heaves a big sigh and Vaughn notices, asking him if he's okay. Will's all, no, actually. I had this big, scary dream. Vaughn's all, was it the one where you're walking naked through the halls of your high school and you have a boner? Will's all, uh, no -- actually, I dreamed that I told Francie everything I knew about the agency. Vaughn's all, oh. I was just kidding about the other dream. Forget what I said.
"What do they have you working on?" he asks. "I'm analyzing drug trafficking through the Panama Canal," says Will. "And I'm reading data and then downloading information off the KH-11 satellite." Remember that thing about the KH-11 satellite, kids. That'll be important later. Vaughn's all, pretty exciting stuff, right? Will's all, yeah, I guess, why? Vaughn's all, well, it's common to dream about work and have anxiety over it. Especially in the beginning. Goes away, though. Will's all, what, the excitement? Vaughn's all, no, the dreams, you doofus. The excitement NEVER goes away! Why do you think I keep doing this shit?
Hong Kong. City Of Dumplings, Conchee, And Tasty Noodles. Yes, I'm hungry -- why do you ask? Jack and Irina, sporting hideous matching tan outfits, are standing outside some red gates. Irina says something to some guard about having a mandate to search the premises. Under what mandate this activity is called for is never really explained. The guard doesn't really seem to care, probably because he's imagining what kind of sexy underwear Irina has on under her jumpsuit, and he lets them inside.
Then we're in some room somewhere and some Chinese dude -- I'm thinking it's Chang -- is blathering on about an inspection team and chemicals or something. Irina snaps a microphone to his lapel as Jack sets up a video camera. I have no idea what's going on. Irina nods at Jack, he hits a button on the camera, some stuff shoots out of the microphone, and Chang goes out like a light. Jack then dismantles the camera, pulling out a gun, and Irina grabs a card out of Chang's jacket. Don't even get me started on how she knew exactly where to look; this whole scene makes no sense to me. But oh, how I love seeing Jack and Irina in action together.
They make their way to the room with the Rambaldi manuscript, and Irina looks at it like it's a big juicy t-bone and she's been a vegan for thirty fucking years. Jack pulls out a fountain pen with some glass-cutting acid in it, spins a circle on the top of the glass case, and removes the circle. Irina lifts the book out, practically drooling all over it. Jack sees this, notes it, and then gruffs, "Let's go." They head out.
Oops Center. Vaughn's sitting at his desk, futzing with some papers, as Syd watches from her desk. He doesn't seem to be doing anything remarkably suspicious, but her expression suggests that she thinks he is. She gets up and sees him take a small envelope out of a folder and put it in his inside jacket pocket. He turns, sees her watching him, and smiles. She goes over to him and he asks if she's talked to Will because he was a little freaked this morning. "What was that?" Syd asks, referring to whatever Vaughn put in his pocket. "Oh," he says dismissively, "just work stuff." "Come here," Syd whispers, walking off. Vaughn, thinking they're about to have a little one-on-one in The Conference Room Of Endless Expositions, eagerly follows.
Unfortunately, Syd just walks about ten feet away, turns, and asks, "Are you keeping secrets from me?" Vaughn's all, WHAT? Syd's all, answer the question, Clutch Cargo. Vaughn's all, well, yeah, of course! We just started dating! I always keep tons of secrets from people I've just started dating. Me too, Vaughn. But I always feel it best to wait til after the seventh or eighth date to reveal that I'm the child of circus carnies.
Syd's all, I'm not talking about us, you freaknut! Vaughn's all, what, you mean work? Yeah. There's certain shit I'm not allowed to talk to you about. Syd's all, and that's it? Vaughn's all, okay, sister, here's the thing. I really don't like it when people question my loyalty. It makes me INSANE. Oh, you're already insane, sweetheart. But you're cute, so we'll let it pass. Syd's all, who said anything about loyalty, you drama queen! Vaughn's all, well, when you ask me about keeping secrets, the subtext's pretty damn clear. Syd's all, okay, I've about had it with you and your conclusion jumping. "Secrets will be a problem between us," she says indignantly. "After everything we've been through, you should know that." Vaughn just glares at her, shakes his head, and then reaches into his pocket for the envelope. "This is the key to my apartment," he says in a wounded and angry tone. "I was going to give it to you tonight over dinner. Obviously, an inappropriate move." Syd's all, oh. Oh! Well, that's an entirely different story! That's okay! You can give me the key! Gimme the key! I want it! I WANT IT! Too late, Syd. You lose. And Vaughn's got a meeting with Dr. Nancy, so you'll just have to stew in it for a while.
Lewis's Looking Glass Garage. Syd enters and places the disk he gave her on his desk. He's all, you made the right decision, sweetie. She's all, yeah, too bad the disk's blank, retard. She gets all high and mighty on him and states that she's disgusted with herself for doubting Vaughn's motives, even for a second. "You should be aware that by choosing not to assist," he snits, "you are implicating yourself in Agent Vaughn's activities." "Don't threaten me again," she says in that voice she reserves for people whose asses are about to be kicked. He's all, yeah, well, you could be prosecuted for this shit, sweetheart. There are consequences to your actions, you know. Syd's all, yeah, I know. And stop greasing your hair back like that. You look like Danny Zuko. And not in the good way. "Ask yourself," she says in a slightly threatening manner, "would you betray someone you loved?" Lewis just sneers at her. "Well, I guess we have an answer to the intimacy question." Hee. I now have no question or doubt as to why Richard Lewis was cast in this episode. He's just fucking perfect as the officious and rude investigator. He's the guy you love to hate. And hate him I do.
Satan Sloane's Silo Of Secrecy. Sloane's looking over a Rambaldi thing with a magnifying glass. There's a knock at the door, and Sark enters. "Mister Sloane," he says. "Yes?" says Sloane, distractedly. The hell? "MISTER SLOANE"? Not too long ago, Sark was saving Sloane's ass from the Geisha of Death and now he's calling him "Mister Sloane"? When in the fucking HELL did Sark become Sloane's lackey? Whatever. Sark's all, it seems Mommy -- er, I mean "Irina Derevko" -- was seen in Bang and Cock last night with Knife Guy. That's important, right? Sloane seems to think so, because he wrinkles his brow and looks surprised.
Oops Center. Jack stalks over to Ken Doll McKutcheon and informs him that Sark contacted Irina through one of her email accounts. Wow. Even international terrorists and sexy over-forty spies have email. What a world we live in. Osama Bin Laden probably has an account. Just email him at batshitcrazynutbar@terrorismforall.com and ask him to rethink the turban look. It's so Ishtar.
Kendall's all, he took the bait, then? Uh, yeah, Spanky. That's what that means. Jack's all, he wants to set up a meeting to discuss the purchase of the Rambaldi manuscript -- and no, before you even ask, we couldn't trace his email. "I'm going to set up the meeting in Panama," he says. "Ostensibly between Irina and Sloane." Panama, did you say? Why, what a coincidence. That wouldn't be the same Panama that Will was looking into, would it? With the KH-11 satellite? Interesting...
"Jack," says Kendall, "you make this happen, and you can have my job." "No thanks," quips Jack. "I'll need Delta Force." Hee. That was comic beauty. "You'll get whatever you need," says Kendall. Yeah, well, what he needs right now is some quality naked time with his non-dead ex-wife. Can you make THAT happen, Spanky? Well, if you've seen the episode, then you know. He actually CAN make that happen...
Mama Hari's Den Of Delights. Irina's going over the manuscript and making notations on several multi-colored Post-It notes. Did you see that? MULTI-COLORED POST-IT NOTES. That's important. No, really. No. REALLY. Anyway, Syd's standing outside the cell, quietly watching her mother. Irina notices this and walks over to her daughter. "Dad says you're going to Panama," says Syd. "Do you think there's a chance you'll get Sloane?" Irina doesn't answer her question. Instead, she says something about how she wanted to see Syd because the trap they're setting could be dangerous.
"So, whatever happens," breathes Irina, "there's something I need you to know. Sydney, I love you." Aw. Syd starts to say something, but Irina cuts her off, telling her she doesn't have to say anything at all. "I'm pretty sure I haven't earned very much," Irina says, choking on emotion, "and that's okay. This was just something I needed to say." "Mom, you're coming back," says Syd, choking on emotions of her own. "I hope so," says Irina, putting her palm on the glass. Syd puts her own palm up to meet it and smiles at her mother, tears swimming in her eyes. Irina quickly drops her hand and just looks at Sydney. It's a wonderful scene, really. And I now have two girl crushes.
Francinator's Hideaway Of Hypnosis. Will's lying in bed, asleep, and we can catch the tiniest glimpse of his lovely naked chest. Sigh. Francinator's sitting over him, asking him in a soothing voice about whether or not he had trouble accessing the satellite images. Will speaks as if in a dream and tells her that he had no trouble and no one was suspicious of his actions. Then she asks him if he saw any significant markings. At first, he can't recall any, but then his subconscious flashes him some images and he comes up with some numbers. Francinator asks what they are, and Will tells her. They're the orbital location of the satellite and its operational controls, Francinator, but that's not important right now. "Good," she says, smiling her evil smile. "I'm going to count back from five. When you wake up, you'll have no memory of this conversation. All you'll remember is that tonight, you had the best sex of your life. Five...four...three..." Hee. She starts to lie down, and by "two," she's placed herself to him in bed and is pretending to sleep. She says, "One," and Will's eyes snap open.
How was it for you, Will? The best sex of your life can be draining, can't it? Hope you used a hypnotic condom, my friend. The last thing we need is a couple more Francinators running amok across the lands of time.
Panama Hotel Room Of Parental Nookie. Jack and Irina are enjoying a glass of wine while going over the plan for the meeting. She'll be dropped off with two Delta Force guards at the decided location, and if Sloane follows the plan, he'll drive north to meet her. "Won't he be suspicious if I don't have the Rambaldi manuscript?" she asks innocently. Jack's all, no, Sloane's smart enough to know that you would never bring it with you at first contact. Besides, you already have it stashed beneath your pillow, don't you? Jack goes on to say that the CIA will be watching the activities via satellite (which satellite would THAT be, Jack?) and they'll be in contact with him and a chopper waiting ten blocks away. "When the call is made," he finishes, "the team will surround the vehicle and ambush Sloane." He takes a well-earned sip of wine as Irina says, "Pretty straightforward." Jack thinks they have a good shot at nabbing Sloane. "There's one thing," says Irina languidly. "The tracker you put in my shoulder..." "You want it removed," Jack surmises correctly.
Oh, he is SO onto her. She's all, hey, if they discover I'm tagged, the whole game's over. Yeah? And how are they going to do that, Irina? Strip you naked and run a tracker detector over your whole body? She's such a player. Without even questioning his duplicitous ex-wife, Jack just grabs an X-Acto knife and starts cutting the damn tracker out of her body. He's all, Spanky will have me court- martialed for this, you know. Irina's all, yeah, but you're smarter than he is, love muffin.
He pulls out the tracker and puts a bandage on the wound as Irina kind of sighs with pleasure. Again, there's no other way to describe it. "You okay?" he asks unnecessarily. "This is nothing," she says seductively. They look at each other intensely. "We need to be up early," she says. "Yes," he says. "We should get to bed," she whispers. "Yeah," he says. "We should." Irina leans in and...DAYUM! There's some SpyRentSex goin' on! They're all making out and bending back onto the bed and...sigh.
Who cares if Jack is playing Irina or Irina is playing Jack? They're both playing each other and they are GOOD at it.
Oops Center. Syd's storming through the halls when Agent Sean walks up and says, "Hey, you know the thing that we're both involved in that we can't talk about?" Syd's all, what, the surprise celebration party for my parents finally making wild monkey love? Agent Sean's all, no! The Vaughn under investigation thing! Syd's all, oh, yeah. That. Agent Sean's all, well, Lewis is about to file formal charges against our boyfriend for mishandling classified intelligence.
Syd's all, WHAAAAT? She whips out her cell phone and is about to call him when Agent Sean's all, hang on a minute there, honey. You do that, and you're breaking, like, six different laws! Syd's all, I don't care! I have to get that key to his apartment and if it means dropping my ass into jail, so be it! Agent Sean's all, try to think with something other than your crotch and be logical here. We can track him with the GPS system in his car! Syd's all, oh, yeah, okay. Let's do that!
Then we're in some trashy alley somewhere as Syd pulls up in her own product-placed Ford. She stops when she sees some fat dude coming out of a dive bar and gets on the phone to Agent Sean, informing him that she's located Vaughn's car. Agent Sean, sporting his Madonna headset, tells her to keep him informed.
Syd gets out of her car and enters the bar. She sees Vaughn in the corner, conversing with the dirty Vladimir guy. After he leaves, she sees Vaughn looking over some documents that Dirty Vlad handed him. The Horns Of Implication play as Syd just watches her boyfriend caught red-handed.
Okay, the CitiBank commercials are my new favorites. That woman with her singing dog? That shit's priceless, dudes. Absolutely priceless.
After the break, Syd walks over and takes a seat to her boyfriend. He just looks up and straight ahead, realizing that the jig, she is up. "What're you doing here?" she asks in the ass-kicking voice. Vaughn's all, Syd, uh, hey! What's up! Wanna Schlitz? Syd's all, I asked you a QUESTION, dillweed! Vaughn's all, well, I could ask YOU some questions too, Nosy Parker! Are you following me? Syd's all, you just BOUGHT something off Dirty Vlad! Don't tell me it's nothing, either!
Vaughn's all, it's research, baby! That's all! Syd's all, oh? And what kind of "research" can be done with Russian assassins? Eh? What, are you looking into booking the Kremlin for our wedding reception? Because, I can tell you, boy, I'm definitely thinking twice about spending the rest of my life with a TRAITOR. Vaughn's all, it's private. Syd's all, PRIVATE? You work for Spook Central, dude! Nothing is private! Oh, and by the way, your ass is being investigated! And not just by every hot-blooded woman on the face of the planet.
Vaughn's all, what? The hell? The WHAT? Syd's all, when Lewis finds out that I told you, I'm gonna be investigated too. So, in a nutshell, to sum up, DON'T LIE TO ME. Vaughn's all, I'm not disloyal, honey. Really. Syd's all, yeah, yeah, yeah. Tell it to someone who gives a shit. Bring on the truth, dude. Or I'm dropping your ass like a smoldering TV dinner, okay? Vaughn doesn't answer right away, because we need to feel the tension mounting for the remaining seven minutes of this episode.
So, before we can hear what Vaughn's been up to, we travel back to Panama, where a big black van is cruising down a yellow-tinted road. It pulls up to some industrial area filled with piles of soot or something, and the Delta Force guys get out, followed by Irina. She looks fabulous in her stovepipe jeans and brown suede jacket. She turns and looks at Jack tenderly. He just stoically nods at her. The doors shut and the van drives off.
As Irina and the Delta boys wait for Sloane, Jack's in the van, communicating with Spanky. Spanky informs him that the KH-11 satellite has them onscreen and that a limo's headed toward them from the southwest. Jack sees it. The limo pulls up, and Irina walks over. Jack sees Sark get out of the limo. He opens the door to the back and Irina looks inside. It's empty.
Sark says something about how, for security reasons, Sloane didn't come to her. Instead, if she gets in, he'll take her to Sloane. At Oops Center, Spanky's all, why isn't she getting in the fucking car? Dammit! Leave it to an indecisive woman to handle a delicate operation like this! Irina's all, yeah, well, tell your lion tamer to get his ass to me, okay? Enough of this playing around. Sark's all, that ain't an option, Mom. And isn't it fun to mess around together again? I missed you! Irina's all, deal's off, son. And try to contain your excitement. If you're a good boy, there are ice cream sundaes in your future. Sark's all, sundaes! He just agrees that the deal's off, shuts the door, and starts to move away. Jack watches on his screen. See those numbers down at the bottom of the screen? Look familiar to anyone? Well, they SHOULD. They're the damn satellite coordinates. At Oops Center, Spanky's all, what's she DOING? Tell her to get in the car and we'll track her to him!
Back at the limo, Irina strikes a deal wherein she'll go with Sark, but only if the Delta boys come with her. Sark's all, that wasn't the plan. Yeah, well, neither was not bringing Sloane along for the ride, but you're not too concerned about THAT one, are you? He orders Irina and the boys to get in. As they enter the limo, Spanky comments that Sark's letting Irina take the guards. "How'd she pull that one off?" he asks of no one in particular. Dude. You're so stupid. Shut up.
Before she gets into the back of the limo, Irina takes one long look up into the sky and smiles. Jack watches this on his screen, a look of tense regret upon his face. Irina gets in, and the limo drives off.
Oh, for fuck's sake. We're back with Vehement Vaughn and his Permanent Pain Of Fatherlessness. Syd listens as Vaughn blathers on and on about how it's been tough being forced to collaborate with his father's killer and the fact that she happens to be Syd's mom hasn't really helped either. Shut up, Milquetoast. Vaughn's so obsessed with his father's death that he's been investigating Irina on his own, contacting anyone he could, retracing phone records, tracking recorded conversations, blah blah blah revengecakes. Vaughn pulls out this battered brown folder full of the fruits of his obsession and shows them to the girl who will NEVER be sleeping with him EVER AGAIN. Syd's all, well, if you felt this way, then why'd you encourage us to work with her? Vaughn's all, because I believed Spy Daddy was right about her having a secret agenda. He wanted to see what she was gonna do, and he did all the research on his own, paid for it all himself, retraced her every step, blah blah blah stalkercakes.
Syd's all, they told me you downloaded that super-secret program that's illegal for you to use for your own personal use or something! Vaughn's all, I did that so I could read KGB files! "I had to find out if she was deceiving us again," he gasps. "I mean, I could not sleep at night knowing I was doing nothing. That somehow, I was helping her." Damn, Vaughn's got a problem with Bristow-women-induced insomnia! First he can't sleep when Syd's on assignment, now he can't sleep when he thinks Irina's betraying them all? Get some Nitol, dude, and GET OVER IT.
As Syd reaches out and opens a folder, we switch quickly back to Panama. Like, I'm assuming there's going to be something really tasty in the folder that we're all going to find out about later, but right now, we're forced to prolong the would-be tension and watch as the limo screeches around a corner. Irina looks at Sark in the rearview mirror, and he looks back. She looks out the window at some machinery. Why? I have no idea.
The limo speeds along as both Jack and Spanky watch it from their screens. Suddenly, the picture goes to static. No, not mine! The satellite picture. Some lackey at Oops Center informs Spanky that they've lost the satellite feed. Spanky's pissed and orders the lackey to get them back online. In the back of the van, Jack hits his computer with his fist, slams the keyboard a few times, and then yells, "Why? WHY? You always do this to me at the crucial moment! God, I hate this fucking computer!" Oh, wait. Maybe that's just me who does that when my computer freaks out and freezes. Sorry.
The lackey tells Spanky that someone's hacked the signal. And here's where we catch up with Francinator. She's on her cell phone. "Are the codes good?" she asks. "Yes, thank you," says Satan Sloane over in his neck of the woods. He hangs up on Francinator as one of his minions of doom wreaks havoc with the satellite.
Back at Oops Center, Kendall tells Jack that they're blind and that he'll have to activate Irina's tracking device. Jack just squints his eyes to express his internal "D'OH!" and says, "I can't!" Spanky hears this and gets this look on his face that's like, "You CAN'T?! Whaddya mean YOU CAN'T?" And Jack just tells Spanky to send in the team. Spanky looks less than pleased, but he sends in the team.
As the limo rounds yet another corner, the Delta Force helicopter slips up over the edge of a hill. Irina kind of looks at it from inside the limo. The limo keeps going, the helicopter keeps following. Driving. Chasing. Suddenly, there's a tunnel up ahead. The limo drives into it, the Delta team loses visual, but the limo reappears immediately, lending them visual again. Yeah. Only that's not the SAME limo, now is it, guys?
More driving. More chasing. Finally the limo comes to a screeching halt and the big black van pulls up. A guy gets out of the driver's side and kneels with his hands in the air. The team moves in, and Jack gets out with his gun pointed at the driver. He walks up and grabs the guy, whipping him around. And guess what? It sure as hell ain't Sark. Instead, it's some random guy who just says in a foreign language, "They paid me to drive! They paid me to do it!"
Jack leaves him to babble on and moves over to the limo door, opening it. Shocker -- there's no one inside. He gets on the horn to Spanky. "Check the Rambaldi manuscript!" Spanky orders the lackey to go get the manuscript. Meanwhile, the real limo peels around some corner somewhere and comes to a stop. Sark turns and shoots both of the Delta boys dead. Irina kind of flinches. "Step out of the car, please," says Sark pleasantly.
Again with the Vengeful Vaughn. Syd's looking over the documents as Vaughn watches her. "Did you find anything?" she asks. "Nothing," he says. "She's clean." That? We had to wait for THAT? Oh, please. I was hoping that the documents would state in big black letters, "IRINA CALLED SLOANE AT HIS SECRET LOCATION AND THEY'RE MEETING UP LATER TODAY" or something. No such luck.
Back with Jack, he's asking Spanky if he has the book. Spanky tells him that it's coming. Elsewhere, some sort of police-type van is pulling around a corner. As it makes its way over to them, Sark and Irina move away from the limo. Back at Oops Center, the lackey is walking over to Spanky with one of those metallic briefcases. He hands it to Spanky, who opens it and finds the case that the manuscript came in. Well, that's a relief. I'm sure the manuscript itself is in there, right? RIGHT?
Back with Irina, the police-type van pulls up and Sark opens the door, revealing a linen-suited Sloane. "It's good to see you again, Irina," he smirks. She smiles at him and says, "Thank you for extracting me." Then she pulls a package out of the back of her jeans and hands it to him. He opens it and pulls out the Rambaldi manuscript. He looks at her, smiles evilly, and extends his hand. Irina takes it and gets into the van. Sark follows and shuts the door. The van drives off.
Oops Center. Kendall opens the manuscript case. It's filled with multi-colored Post-It notes. What'd I say about the Post-It notes? Huh? What'd I say? He rifles through them as if the he'll find the manuscript hiding beneath them or something and then tells Jack, "It's gone." As the subtly Indian-tinged music plays over the soundtrack, Jack just walks off with an expression on his face of, "Yeah. That's what I thought." The camera pulls up and away, and Jack walks off with his own sense of betrayal firmly intact.
And before we can say, "How'd Irina get that manuscript out of her cell without being noticed?" the show's over. Sigh.
on Alias: A repeat of "Phase One." And then a week off for your hapless recapper. And then another spankin' new episode full of hoots, hijinks, and hilarity! Hi, Will!