Previously on Alias: Sydney went ballistic on a cardboard cutout of Vaughn, Sark apparently got beaten up by a non-cardboard cutout of Vaughn (the hell? What are we, in "The Telling" all of a sudden?), and Spy Daddy shared a little home movie with his daughter. Unfortunately, the subject matter consisted of Sydney slicing some old dude's throat. Not pretty.
Berlin. Two German dudes are walking through the halls at Leizig Aerospace Headquarters. Yeah. As far as I know, it don't exist. Of course, I Googled it. Shut. Up. Anyways, the German dudes chatter at each other in German. No, it's not captioned. But, according to one of the faithful posters, one of the dudes is bitching about his fiancé or something. Heh. Even in Germany, marriage sucks.
Right, so, the German dudes enter an elevator, and then this janitor they passed, who is SO not a janitor, tells someone somewhere that the two German dudes are in the elevator. Blah blah German blah, some Russian dudes set a bomb or something. It goes off. The German dudes shriek their panties off, and I think one of them wets himself as the elevator drops like a two-ton drunken drag queen at Mardi Gras. Then, just as quickly, the elevator gets cranked to the top of the shaft (hee!) and explodes out (hee again!), revealing that it's been hooked up to a crane that's attached to a 'copter. It flies off into the night sky. Okay, yeah, so that was pretty damn cool.
Hell-Lay. Spy Daddy and Spy Barbie are enjoying a little quality time. Unfortunately for Sydney, Spy Daddy's idea of "quality time" involves hooking her up to a machine in order to determine if she's still under the influence of any brainwashing techniques. He seems to think that certain torture methods may have caused her to lose her memory. Syd's all, daddy? I slit that guy's throat. He was unarmed. Don't you think that's a little, well, mean of me? Jack's all, uh, maybe he was a really bad man or something. Maybe he deserved it.
Syd's all, Daddy, I know you don't want the CIA to get their hands on that tape of me offing that old dude, but, like -- Jack just cuts her off and is all, seriously? You go to the CIA with this and they will toss you in jail, and I won't be able to use you to find out just what the hell happened to you during those two years. Or something like that. Syd's all, I don't trust myself right now, Dad. Jack's all, oh, well, that's too bad. Because I do trust you. And I'm gonna keep looking into this Lazarey dude.
While I'm at it, I'll try your mom, too. She's always good for a party. Or, erm, I mean, "information." Assuming she's alive, that is. "I haven't talked to her for a year," he says. "But we established a protocol for making contact. I'll try to reach her. But for now," he says, his voice dropping to a tender note, "you deserve to get on with your life."
The New And Improved Ovary Electric. Agent Sean's helping Syd move in to what appears to be a totally killer new pad. "Why does lifting heavy objects automatically mean I'm in need of one of those beers?" asks Agent Sean, toting a big-ass box past Syd. "Chop-chop." Hee. Um. Why does Syd have boxes of shit? Didn't her place, like, BURN DOWN? The only personal effects she should have are boxes of charred picture frames and crates of smoldering sofa arms. And maybe an indestructible floor safe filled with cash and passports or something. I mean…WHATEVER.
Oh, screw it. Back in non-reality land, Syd hands Sean the beer he asked for and smiles sweetly at him. Sean practically falls on the floor all, was that a…SMILE?! Yeah, Sean. It was. Not that you'll see it again any time soon if you keep ANNOUNCING its appearance! God. That's like when you're walking down the street, minding your own business, possibly contemplating how you really should eat more fresh fruit but every time you go to the market and pick up peaches and plums and pears, they wind up moldering in your crisper drawer without ever coming NEAR your stomach, and some random guy goes, "Hey, how about a smile, cutie?" It's like, yeah, I could smile, Prince Charming, but I'd have to do so while RIPPING OFF YOUR TONGUE AND FEEDING IT TO THE PIGEONS.
Ahem. Sorry. Back to the scene at hand…oh, wait. We don't really have to go back to the scene. Know why? This scene is completely unnecessary. All it does is give the Exposition Fairy a chance to dance around the room in her pretty pink tutu, spreading plot dust wherever she smacks her wand. Bling! Francie's dead. Bling! Will's in witness protection. Bling! Syd's living alone. Bling! Syd has no friends. Bling! This apartment has a FIREPLACE. Bling! Sean has the hots for Syd. Bling! Syd's two blocks from the beach. Bling! Sean's her neighbor. Bling! REM's new song sounds just like "It's The End Of The World As We Know It." Bling! Vaughn spent months hiding out from the world in order to get over Syd, and he almost didn't recover. Bling! Vaughn's thinking about coming back to the Agency. Bling! He ain't coming back because of Syd.
Syd and Sean get called into Oops Center as the Exposition Fairy helps herself to a beer and some stale pretzels. "God, I hate these cheap gigs," she snits through a mouth of salt and yeasty crumbs. "CAN'T YOU PEOPLE ORDER A PIZZA OR SOMETHING?! I mean, really. I didn't even WANT this job, you know! I was up for Junior Tooth Fairy last month. But, um, there might have been this problem with martinis and, uh, some time spent in the broom closet with one of the other Junior Tooth Fairy candidates…oh, fuck it. You guys got any beef jerky?"
Oops Center. The CIA's received a little love letter from the Covenant, and they're claiming responsibility for the kidnapping of the two German dudes. As some computerized voice explains the details of the kidnapping to the CIA in a voice-over, we see a rather creepy-looking scar-faced man in a white coat grab a bone saw and approach one of the kidnapped men, who's been tossed onto an operating table. The man on the table is squirming and freaking and so obviously NOT out cold. Oh, this can't be good.
We catch up with everyone in the Conference Room of Endless Expositions as the Covenant message comes to an end. They want the CIA to follow the coordinates that are included in the audio message, retrieve a package, and then follow the enclosed instructions. Yawn. The two German dudes were working undercover for the CIA. Jack informs the troops that the CIA believes the dudes were abducted by a group known as the Covenant. Yeah. We know. Like, we knew from the preview, dude. I mean, unless K-Directorate's making a comeback, anytime something bad happens to someone on this show from now on, you can bet the culprit is…dun dun DUN…the Covenant, okay?
Jack blathers something about the Covenant being a loose affiliation of Russian nationalists and ex-KGB, and it functions as a sort of Mafia crime family. Marshall skitters into the conversation and announces that the location provided by the coordinates is actually an adult film theater in Munich, and that the title that's now showing is Penile Code Part Deux. Heh. Of course, it actually takes Marshall about forty minutes just to spit that out, and it takes everyone at the table another ten minutes just to roll their eyes and suck every last bit of comedy out of it. Then we move on.
Dix doesn't like the idea of sending someone in alone to retrieve the package. Jack's all, oh, please. They're not gonna betray us at this stage of the game. And do you remember when you used to take orders from ME? That was kinda fun, wasn't it? Syd volunteers to go. Of course she does. Because, like, there aren't any OTHER agents in the whole damn CIA? Dix requests that Syd stay behind; after everyone leaves, he proceeds to tell her that, while he's allowing her to go, she's not the only CIA operative who's lost time. The what? In the who? He goes on to tell her that a group gathers to discuss this whole "lost time" thing, and that he thinks she should attend the meeting. What, there are MEETINGS for shit like this? I lose time all the time too, but I just chalk it up to vodka and a lack of interest in my surroundings, and I don't see any meetings being set up in MY honor or anything.
Munich Masturbation Multiplex. Syd enters as we hear bad German dubbing of a porn film. Ah, porn. I love it so. Even in German. Hey, Ethan? Could you do a little German-language study before we hit the sack tonight? I'm kind of digging the whole "oof, och, ich, ich wünsche zum Du Arschloch" thing that's going on here. Syd informs Weiss that she's on location. And could he bring her some lube and some batteries? Syd quickly locates the package and dons some rubber gloves. Hee. There's a nice moment as Syd sees what's on the screen, registers her disgust and discomfort, and quickly turns back to the task at hand. Heh.
Syd bends down in the aisle. Ew. The German porn house gives a whole new meaning to sticky floors. Syd finds a box and sweeps it for explosives. It's clean. She proceeds to open it up, finding bubble wrap and…blood. Syd pulls back the bubble wrap and, instead of popping every last one of the bubbles into her headpiece in an effort to create fun where there is none, she informs the troops that one of the German agents lost his head. And now it's in the box. There's a piece of paper in his mouth. Syd removes it and realizes that it's the Covenant's list of demands.
Conference Room of Endless Expositions. A couple minutes later, or, like, week or something, we're hanging with the gang as Dix reminds them that, even though Klein-in-a-Box is dead, his partner's still alive and kicking and probably beaten to a bloody pulp, so it's the CIA's job to bring him home. Dix then passes the ball over to Head, who happens to be heading up this operation. No pun intended. Really.
Turns out, the Covenant's being all agreeable and shit, and they're willing to trade the CIA dude for one Mr. Sark. Head's all, so, like, we're okay with that. Syd's all, you what? In the what what? You can't just let Sark go. Head's all, oh, but I can. Syd's all, we don't even know why they want him. Head's all, oh, but we do. They wanna kill him. See, 'cuz Sloane said that Sark said that he killed one of the Covenant dude's brothers a while back.
Swiss. Cheese. People. Remember what I said in the recaplet? Yeah. I'd rather be watching Swiss cheese mold in my fridge right about now. And honestly, it'd probably have less holes than this plot does, or so my friend Jillian informed me over IM a few minutes ago.
So, right, anyway, Syd's like, okay, fine, um, do you think we should really be taking Sloane's intel at face value? Head's all, well, I'm sure you have a problem with Sloane, given your history, but if Dix trusts him, well, then -- Dix pipes up, "For the record, I don't. I never will." Hee. But Dix goes on to say that, even though he doesn't trust Sloane as far as he can throw him through a triple-layered brick wall, Sloane has provided the CIA with some alarmingly accurate intel as of late. Jack visibly rolls his eyes at this. It's Syd's turn to roll her eyes when Dix announces that he's authorizing the trade. He goes on to say that Syd and Weiss will escort Sark to Mexico, and that they're leaving in four hours. Head gets up and passes by Sydney. "Welcome back," he not-so-subtly snarks on his way out. Jesus. What a douchebag. Jack and Syd seem to agree with me, because the absolutely terrifying look of death they shoot at Head's back is utterly priceless.
After the meeting, Syd and Jack are walking through Oops Center, discussing Head and how he's got the White House spin machine at the ready to cover his ass if this hostage situation goes awry. "He's nearly untouchable," says Jack. "I'd love to prove that wrong," snits Syd. "You've come close, what with you forcing his hand with my release," responds Jack, fairly bursting with pride. Oh, okay, so the bursting-with-pride thing I made up. So what?
Jack goes on to say that, while Syd's in Mexico, he'll be in Zurich seeing Sloane, because Sloane will be expecting him, and for the moment, they should be doing everything in a predictable fashion. Syd stops suddenly. Jack notices and joins her in looking at a board of agents killed in action. Syd's name is on it. And, for those of you who are pause-happy, her name reads, "Bristow, Sydney A." No, I don't know what the "A" stands for, and no, I'm not paging back through recaps to find out. For some reason, I think it's "Anne," but it could just as easily be "Anti-Nuclear Warhead," so discuss amongst yourselves.
"I'll have that adjusted," says Jack dryly. Syd turns to him. "Where was I buried?" "You were cremated," he says. "Vaughn spread your ashes at sea." Okay, that would be much more poignant if "Vaughn" and "spread" weren't in the same sentence. Oh, and call me crazy, but if Spy Daddy weren't in prison yet for selling out his country or whatever, wouldn't HE be responsible for his DAUGHTER'S remains? What the hell is VAUGHN doing with the mortal remains of JACK'S DAUGHTER? Like, when my father died, they didn't hand the ashes to his friend LLOYD to deal with, right? As far as I know, my MOTHER was responsible for them, and she did Dad right by keeping him in the hall closet for about four months while she yelled at him on a daily basis before she finally buried him beneath a tree on his favorite golf course. All I'm sayin' is, Vaughn? Ain't Syd's o' kin, okay? Speaking of Vaughn…
University of Hot French Teachers and the Students Who Lust After Him. Vaughn's standing up in front of a class, all dressed in black and looking supremely luscious. I'm sorry. He does. He says some shit to them in French, and after Julio brings me back to consciousness with some smelling salts, I'm able to continue recapping this scene. The class is dismissed, and Syd enters. She walks over to Vaughn, and there's a moment of weighted tension. Syd's all, so you're a Latin teacher then? Vaughn's all, yeah, Latin. Funny. No, it's French, you psycho. Syd's all, look, I know you're thinking of coming back to the CIA and everything, but if you're hesitating out of some misguided courtesy to me, well, fuck you. Vaughn's all, um, what? Syd's all, I can handle you being there, don't worry about me.
Vaughn steps forward and says, "The other day, you said I gave up on us because I didn't have faith. That somehow you didn't mean enough to me." Syd's all, oh, well, when I said that, I was on Nyquil and Robitussin. I didn't know what the hell planet I was on, let alone what the hell I was saying. Vaughn's all, shut it, sister. It's my turn to go off on YOU, and I guarantee you that MY speech is gonna bring your sorry screeching ass to tears. "After you died, I used to talk to you like you were still around. Literally. Out loud. Whole conversations, about -- about nothing. The weather. Should I get a new car? Should I have another drink? And one day, you started answering. I mean, I could hear you in my head. Like you were right to me, Sydney. And although rationally I knew I was a guy who…stayed up nights drinking, talking to his dead girlfriend, still I couldn't stop. So before you tell me you can handle my coming back to the CIA, there are two things you need to know. First is that I was so in love with you, that it nearly killed me. And second, that I don't regret moving on with my life."
Syd, who looks like she's about to bawl, just stops and swallows her tears. And…scene. No, really. NO, REALLY. Like, way to drop the damn guillotine, writers. What? What happened ? Did Syd brain him with a board eraser? Did Vaughn drop to his knees and declare that he'll never love another as he loved her? Did some random student named Howie clamber in and go, "Teach! What'd I get on that final, eh? 'Cuz I need to GRADUATE!" I mean, what did the powers that be on this particular episode hope to gain from just clomping a big-ass combat boot on the end of this scene? Closure? Finality? Cheez-Its? Because I can tell you, whatever their reasoning, the abrubt ending of this scene sucked major donkey balls.
Zurich. Land of Accurate Timepieces and Soothsayer Sociopaths. We're in Sloane's office as some random chick rattles off some useless life-saving information to Sloane -- who, it should be said, is sporting a wireless earpiece that just makes him look like the sixth member of a geriatric *NSYNC. Another random chick, this time in the form of a guy, enters and throws some shit down for Arvin to sign. The phone rings; Arvin answers and says, "Send him in." We can only assume it's our very own Spy Daddy.
Sloane dismisses his lackeys and Jack enters, looking all sorts of hot in his dark suit. Really. Victor Garber does a suit right, people. Especially when he's being ridiculously snarky, as he is right now. "A world relief organization," he sneers. "The sheer audacity of your alleged turnaround would be laughable, if you weren't so dangerous." Hee. Oh, hee hee hee. Sloane's all, I was wondering when you'd come to see me. I'm sorry, but when did Sloane suddenly become Alias's version of Google? (Thanks to Insilliarus for that analogy, by the way.) Need an answer? Go to Sloane. Need a prediction? Go to Sloane. Can't find decent bars in Savannah? Go to Sloane. Looking for autopsy instruments? Go to Sloane. Checking into the whole Rambaldi theorem? Yeah. Check with Sloane. Really. I hope Sloane's charging for these little visits; he could make a killing. Oh, but he's already done that! Oh, ha ha! My sides!
Jack's all, dude. You don't really expect me to believe that you've changed, right? Sloane's all, dude. I expect you to believe in the consistency of my obsessions. Then he blah blahs about his whole thirty-year Rambaldi obsession and how he never expected the message to be one of peace. Jack takes a drink of Diet Coke, and he then spits it all over the room. "Personally, I would have found it anticlimactic," he snits, after wiping the Diet Coke off his mouth, "that after expecting to assemble a weapon of ultimate power, you ended up with a revelation you could have acquired from a…fortune cookie." Oh, that is just prime grade-A Spy Daddy there.
There's a moment here where you can hear the air streaming out of both men's flared nostrils. I'm not kidding. "I've missed you," says Sloane with that smile of his. "I've missed you too, you little pisher!" says Jack, running over and pulling him into an embrace and giving him a knuckle to the head. Or he just walks over and says that he believes Sloane's responsible for Syd's disappearance, and that he should cut the shit and tell him why right now. "Give her the peace of mind she deserves," Jack says, "and in exchange, I'll halt my efforts to invalidate your pardon agreement."
Sloane's channeling Buddha, obviously, because he just calmly tells Jack not to go digging; he won't find anything. He then goes on to say that he knows Jack was put in prison for allying himself with Irina, someone he vowed never to trust again in this lifetime. "So if you're capable of having such a change of heart," he says, "why is it so hard to believe that I am as well?" Jack steps even closer to the Sloane-Buddha. "Because every questionable moral thing I've ever done has been to protect Sydney," he says. "You don't have the same excuse." "Really?" says Sloane with an ironic look on his face. He then walks over to the Credenza of Mysteriously Necessary Items and withdraws a disc. He returns to Jack and informs him that the disc contains all the leads Sloane followed pertaining to Sydney's death. He scoots it across the desk, much as he scooted the Covenant file across the desk to Sydney. He claims the leads were mostly dead ends, and that he trusts Jack will look at it before he dismisses it outright. Jack scoops it up in his hand and says, "Should I take this as your official denial of any involvement in Sydney's disappearance?" Sloane just nods. "Then you've just made the worst mistake of your life," says Jack. "Because I am going to bury you." He turns and walks out.
Awwww yeah. We got some Spy Daddy goin' awn.
Mama Hari's Den of Delights. Only, now that Mama Hari herself has gone back to Connecticut or wherever to spend more time with her husband, Lasse Hallström, and their collective brethren, Mama Hari herself is not in attendance. In her place, we have the beautiful, the lovely, the Mr. Sark. Welcome, Mr. Sark! Why don't you tell us about yourself?
Oh, too late. We don't have time to hear about your childhood, Mr. Sark. Syd's arrived. She wants a word with him before he gets traded. Sark himself looks rather, um, the worse for wear. His hair is shorn, he's wearing all black, and…oh, hell. He doesn't look worse for wear. He looks GOOD. He gets up from his perch on the bed and walks over to the glass. He's all, dear god, it can't possibly be you! Syd's all, oh, please. Don't act surprised that I'm alive, dickhead. Sark's all, honey? You know how much I admire your work as an operative, right? But even I didn't think you were capable of cheating death, once your remains had been identified and thrown off the SIDE OF A SHIP. "Which begs the question," he remarks in his dulcet tones, "if it wasn't your body they removed from the ashes, whose was it?" Syd's all, yeah, um, Scooter? I read your confession transcripts, and I didn't skip over that part where you and some bitch named Allison Doren killed my friend Francie. Scooter's all, yeah, what in the hell are you getting at anyway, Zombie Syd? Syd's all, I think that explosion at my apartment was a cover-up to make everyone think I was dead, and that Sloane abducted me, and I think you know why.
Scooter's all, okay, lemme get this straight. You have no idea where you've been for the last two years. None. Oh, ha ha ha ha. Oh, that is just rich! That is just…are you sure you weren't just drunk or something? On acid? In Marrakech? Oh, hee hee hee! That is brilliant! Oh, I'm sorry. I don't mean to laugh, I'm just…oh, HA HA HA! "Look, Sydney," he says, after he's calmed down. "If Sloane intended to abduct you, I wasn't privy to it." Heh. He said "privy." Why do I find that dirty all of a sudden? "What if I said I still don't believe you?" says Syd, totally floored by Sark's reaction. "I'd say it made no difference," he says calmly. "In twenty-four hours, I'll be free, and you'll remain in the dark." They have a bit of a Mexican standoff, and Syd finally turns to exit. "See you in Mexico," she says in parting.
Mexico. Home of Mexican Standoffs and Tequila -- Which, Actually, May Be to Blame for Most Mexican Standoffs. I'd like to welcome you to the part of the recap that I will most likely reduce to a few paragraphs. Really. It's a useless scene, shot on film stock borrowed from Traffic, and I don't feel the need to expend any more energy on it than necessary.
Two CIA vans, one silver, one black, speed along in the desert. Syd's inside one of them, instructing the teams on the upcoming exchange. Unfortunately, I barely paid attention to what she was saying because she looked like she was auditioning to be the lead actress in G.I. Jane, Part 2: Even Navy Seals Can Look Like Girls Once In Awhile.
The team exits the vans. Syd stomps out of the silver van and sashays her ass over to the black one. I'm sorry, but she sashays. Her ass moves from right to left to right to left more times in three steps than any ass has a right to. And I don't think she's wearing a bra. I really don't. Syd enters the black van, the interior of which is, you guessed it, black. She bends over (no, not like THAT) and starts to unlock Sark's ankle cuffs. Sark's all, I assure you that this Covenant, or whatever it's called, is as much a mystery to me as it is to you. "I can't imagine why they'd want to make this trade," he says. "You're about to find out," says Syd, unlocking him. "My life's in danger, isn't it?" he asks. "Yes, it is, little bro," says Syd. "Yes, it most certainly is. By the way, how's Mom doing?" Or she just looks at him with her overly plumped lips. Dudes. They're BLOWN UP. I'm sorry. They've been filled with helium or something. They're scaring me.
Meanwhile, across the desert, some cars are stormin' in. Syd, her hair in cute little braids, brings Sark out of the van. The stormin' cars stop across the way. Some guys get out of the cars, and one of them shoots a flare into the sky. Syd checks with Oops Center to get the go-ahead, gets it, and shoots her own flare into the sky. One of the stormin' car guys pulls out the living CIA dude, and Syd checks again with Oops Center about protocol. Dix authorizes her to let Sark go. She does.
Sark moves toward CIA dude as CIA dude moves toward him and all parties watch. Just then, some random cars appear on the wavery horizon. Sark and CIA dude meet in the center, and Sark halts him. They turn to watch the cars. Syd tries to get an identification from Dix. They ain't CIA. Syd's all, dude! We have to finish this trade NOW or the Covenant will think it's a double-cross. The cars keep coming. Then a chopper shows up. Someone in the chopper makes an announcement that it's Delta Force and this op has been countermanded by order of the National Security Council. Sweet Jesus. Looks like Head's rearing his ugly…erm…head. Everyone scrambles. Shots are fired. Sark and CIA dude fall flat on the ground. Syd tells Dix that Head ambushed them. Dix tells one of his computer lackeys to get Head on the horn now. More shooting. More people dead. Dix is on the phone to Head all, you sniveling little whore! What the fuck do you think you're doing? Head's all, trying to get back your agent! Sorry if I had to surprise you this way. And yeah, there's more drama here, but I really and truly don't give a shit, so we're moving on.
More shooting. More people dead. The chopper goes down. Syd sees the head Covenant guy get into his car and drive toward Sark and the CIA dude. He peels around and orders both Sark and CIA dude to get into the car. They do. As everyone keeps shooting at them, Syd lamely runs after the car and stops, seeing them peel off into the distance. She's pissed. There's no two ways about it.
Um, I'm sorry. Were the cars out of gas? Were the vans not fully loaded? Was there not the possibility that SOMEONE, ANYONE, could have chased after these motherfuckers? I mean, all the other Covenant guys were dead, would it not be prudent to, perhaps, CHASE AFTER THEIR LEADER? I mean, look. They're in the DESERT. How hard could they be to find?
Commercials. Rick Bayless is gay. I don't care that he's married. He is gay. I love his cooking, I dig his show, but if he's not gay, I'm Kim Cattrall. And go see Intolerable Cruelty. I know I will. And that FedEx commercial rules. "Oh, you have an MBA? I'll have to show you how to do it." Hee.
Bathroom Of Bad Men And Their Annoying Lack Of Hair. Head finishes up at the, um, head, and zips up. He moves to the sink to (thankfully) wash his hands. Suddenly, he sees Sydney behind him, and this causes him to splash water all over the front of his pants. Does Kurt Fuller willingly sign up for these dickless roles? Or do they just happen to him?
So, anyway, Head turns, his crotch spotted with water, and Syd's all, we should've gotten that last hostage back, and we would have if you hadn't been…or, I mean, if the cars hadn't been so, um, dysfunctioning and shit. I mean, never mind that! We would have gotten that last hostage back if -- Head just bats at his crotch area with a dry towel and goes, "Who the hell do you think you are --" Syd steps forward and goes, "I'm the person who's gonna hold you accountable if they kill him!" "Oh, you're gonna hold me accountable?" snits Wet Pants. "Did I stutter?" Syd snits back. Wet Pants is all, what exactly is the purpose of this conversation? Syd's all, your pants are wet and there ain't no dryer in this room. Oh, and I'm not really impressed by the fact that you play golf with the Prez, okay, Wet Pants? "What you did was moronic and borderline criminal!" she says, poking a finger in his general direction. "Did it slip your mind that I am the director of the National Security Council? I can pick up the phone and have you thrown into the same cell your father just vacated! Hell, it's still warm!" "Do it!" says Syd. "Give me an object lesson in the abuse of power. Show me how it's done!"
There's a momentary pause. Head considers Syd, Syd considers Head. "If you're finished, this is the men's room," says Head. "Who let you in?" asks Syd. Hee. Syd walks out, leaving Head to rip towels out of the dispenser in a desperate attempt to dry his pants before leaving the bathroom.
Random Covenant Hideaway with an apparent store of vintage wine. Remind me to locate this on my Yahoo! Maps. Sark's hanging at a blank table in a blank room. The head Covenant guy from the Mexican shootout enters the room with a 1982 Chateau Petrus and a couple of glasses. "Your favorite, no?" he asks. Damn. I wanna be abducted by the Covenant. "Have we met?" asks Sark. "No," says head Covenant guy. "But you knew my brother, Antony Sanko." Sark's all, oh -- then I guess this is my last drink, right? Brother Sanko is all, oh, no, not necessarily. I know that bomb you placed was not meant for my brother. He pours two glasses of wine. "On the other hand," he says, pulling one of the glasses toward him, "it does seem that you owe me." Brother Sanko takes a large gulp of the wine, proving to Sark that it's not poisoned. "And what would that price be?" says Sark, wondering why Brother Sanko gets a taste of his favorite vintage but he himself doesn't. "Eight hundred million," responds Brother Sanko, relishing the red liquid on his lips. Sark's all, um, eight hundred million dollars? Brother Sanko's all, yeah, I'll just nod here in response. Sark's all, okay, I ain't BUILT of money, bitch. I don't have even CLOSE to that in my nest egg. "In fact, Mr. Sark," says Brother Sanko, "you do." He pushes the other wine glass in front of Sark's face, the dark stain of wine in the glass reflecting in Sark's eyes.
Oops Center. Syd's stalking through, looking for the male she can castrate, and suddenly she stops. She sees Vaughn, shaking Dixon's hand in the distance. Dixon sees her and beckons her over. Syd's all, oh, yeah! Vaughn's back! Now we can…oh, wait…
Syd walks over, and Dix tells her that Vaughn's qualified for reinstatement. Until his field rating's updated, he'll be on analysis. "But he's back," says Dixon, in a moderated tone, "effective immediately. If there are any special considerations either of you would like me to take into account, now's the time to speak up." Yeah, says Syd, I'd like you to take into account how this low-life beeyatch dropped my ASHES over the side of a ship and still didn't believe I was ALIVE, goddammit! Or she just says, "Welcome back." And Vaughn just says, "Thank you."
Then Vaughn looks up and goes, "Hello, Jack." Jack's just walked up, and actually, he blithely ignores Vaughn's "hello," choosing instead to glare at Vaughn and then launch into something about the Covenant and how he's discovered why they're interested in Sark. I'm sorry. Can we just take a moment and appreciate how very much Jack Bristow hates Michael Vaughn? Thank you. The moment has passed. We may now move on. According to Jack, apparently, at ten that morning, Sark walked into the Thornton Bank and Trust in the Cayman Islands, accompanied by Brother Sanko.
We're then with Sark, looking far too tasty for his own good, and Brother Sanko as they exit an elevator. Spy Daddy informs us via voice-over that Sark was led downstairs, where he then used his thumbprint to access an executive vault. After Sark inputs his thumbprint, the door opens. Spy Daddy's voice-over states that inside the vault was over $800 million in gold bullion. And we see it there, in all its gold bullion glory. "More surprising is the fact that Sark had no idea that he was entitled to that money," voice-overs Jack. Sark, coming upon the gold bullion, just looks…nonplussed.
"Entitled?" asks Dix, back in the Oops Center. "Eight months ago," says Jack, "an interagency memorandum reported the murder of a Russian diplomat by the name of Andrean Lazarey." Syd shoots a glance at her dad that's like, dude? Ix-nay on the Azarey-lay! Oh, and Regina might have spelled that wrong in the last recap, but I guess it doesn't matter right now, right? Spy Daddy's all, his murderer has never been found. Nice eye-roll from Syd here. Spy Daddy goes on, however, that a source of his has indicated that Lazarey was a descendant of the Romanov royal family in Russia, and the money was in his royal trust when he died. "It went to Mr. Sark -- Lazarey's son," Jack says, looking pointedly at Syd. Syd looks pointedly back at her dad.
Before they can get into the details of Sark's background, however, Agent Sean arrives, along with Marshall, to inform them that they tracked the enemy sedan to a Frankfurt nightclub, notorious for trafficking top-of-the-line synthetic drugs. CIA analysis believes it's a front for the Covenant. Oh, okay. Speaking of top-of-the-line synthetic drugs, could you nab me that special daiquiri mix of "Valium + Nyquil + Crisco + Gummi Bears + Palmolive," Julio? Mommy hates this episode, and she needs something super-scary to get her through the last five minutes.
Dix is all, is that other German CIA dude still alive? Jack's all, yes, 'cuz he's a high-level official dude, and the information they could extract from him would be priceless to U.S. enemies. Sean flops over a folder with the picture of some random dude and says his name is Otto Edel. He's a drug dealer who runs the Frankfurt nightclub. "He'll know where our hostage is being held," says Sean.
Dix looks to Syd. "I want you to accompany the hostage rescue team." Marshall speaks up: "Actually, I had an idea. I think Syd should go in as a biochem major -- you know, Harvard dropout. Totally spoiled. You know, maybe she got kicked out because she was synthesizing ecstasy in her dorm room. Or maybe crystal crank --" Dix jumps in and tells Marshall to run the Op Tech. Everyone just walks off.
Lonely Platform of Father-Daughter Relations. Jack's trying to justify his Lazarey-announcing actions to his daughter. He's all, dude. The CIA would have discovered the link between Sark and Lazarey on their own, okay? Without that tape I have of you slitting Lazarey's throat, the CIA has no way of connecting you to him or his death. Syd's all, this CAN'T be a coincidence, okay? I'm responsible for Lazarey's death, and nine months later, the Covenant gets Sark released in exchange for his $800 million dollar inheritance? It's looking more likely that they're responsible for your two-year absence, agrees Jack. "Be it under duress, or by some other unknown means, they compelled you to carry out the assassination," Jack says. Syd accepts this. "I'm scheduled to contact your mother tonight," says Jack. "Hopefully, she'll be some help." We switch quickly to a sedan in a parking garage. We don't see who's in it, but just as quickly, we switch to an AOL message screen.
"DISTINGUISHED COMPOSER LOOKING FOR MUSIC LOVER" appears in the message area. Jack, who we now know is in the driver's side of the sedan, quickly puts on his earphone thing as he sees that Handel_4me wants to chat privately. And here, for the rabid, is the whole AOL chat, without the horrific computerized Irina voice:
Handel_4me: Couldn't believe it when I saw your ad in the London Globe.
Mozart_182: Glad you're alive.
Handel_4me: You should have known better.
Mozart_182: Our daughter is alive.
Handel_4me: My God. How is she?
Mozart_182: Recovering, though she doesn't remember the last two years. Need your help getting background on a man named Andrean Lazarey.
Handel_4me: Will upload all intel to our FTP drop site. Miss you.
Mozart_182: Miss you, too.
Frankfurt. Land of trade fairs, airport terminals, and the Bundesbank. It's club time at Alias. Syd enters, looking all brainy Goth and such. Full-on thigh-length black jacket, almost ankle-length skirt, cheekbone-skimming black bobbed hair. Syd stalks through the club and comes upon a little rest area, with a guard holding court over it. The guard frisks her and comes upon her PDA. "It's for him," Syd purrs. The blond drug man, reclining on the sofa in the distance, beckons her forth. The guard gives Syd back her PDA and lets her enter the sanctum sanctorum of Blond Drug Man.
"You're very attractive…for a chemist," says Blond Drug Man. "Thank you for meeting with me," says Syd. Blond Drug Man's all, well, I'm all open to conversation and shit, but I highly doubt you can improve on my little cocktail. Syd's all, I can triple your sales. Blond Drug Man's all, how then, liebsten? Syd's all, by making it more addictive. Then she presses a button on her PDA and shoves it at Blond Drug Man. He takes the PDA and seems interested in it, but Syd seems to think that a good glimpse at her Victoria Secreted torso is more interesting, and compels him to take a look at THAT and not at the PDA. Blond Drug Man does so, and we go to commercial.
Back from commercial, Syd's dancing with Blond Drug Man. He's asking about how she learned her trade. She tells him she was a biochem major at Harvard, not that they'll be asking her to give any commencement speeches in the near future. Blond Drug Man's all, their loss, my gain, ja? Syd's all, I need one liter of your product. "Oh, just like that, then?" says Blond Drug Man. Syd's all, I'll chemically alter it and make it better than ever. Blah blah blah. Really! I mean, really! Syd's just trying to get into other parts of the building, okay?
Blond Drug Man's Sanctum Sanctorum. Syd and Blond Drug Man enter, and he goes off, telling her to make herself comfortable as he'll only be a moment. Blond Drug Man goes off into a corner and gets something and returns to Syd momentarily, handing her a vial that he declares has a street value of $50,000. Syd's all, mind if I give it a spin? Blonde Drug Man's all, be my guest. Syd, with her Annie Hall-homage tie intact, sticks a needle into the vial as Blond Drug Man says that, if she's gonna take that vial outta here, he's gonna need some collateral.
As Blond Drug Man comes up behind her, Syd's all, I don't have any money on me. Luckily, Blond Drug Man is flexible on that whole "collateral" thing. "I do accept other forms of payment," he says, sniffing her hair. Again with the squicky hair-sniffing thing. Ew. "Ooh! There's an air bubble in there," he notices. Syd quickly moves into action, pushing the Blond Drug Man down to the floor and then pushing the needle to his neck.
Oops Center just watches as she does this, Marshall, Dix, and -- gasp -- Vaughn among them. "Do exactly as I say, or I push the plunger," she says. "Where's the alarm terminal that protects the subbasement?" "Bitch," hisses Blond Drug Man. "Tell me where it is, or you get an aneurysm," she spits. "Okay…down the hall, first door," he says. "But I only manage the facility. I do not know the codes! I swear!" Syd elbows him in the face and moves on to the code box.
At the alarm terminal, Syd and her tie need a minute to hack into the system. Dix hears this and alerts Weiss and his team that they're not to breach until given the signal. Weiss copies this and states that the team is holding. Syd pulls something out of her shoe and plugs it into the terminal. It's a code breaker. Dix informs her that her entrance to the sublevel will be through the last door down on the north hallway.
Suddenly, at Oops Center, Vaughn speaks up. "Marshall, why does all this cabling run through the control room?" Marshall responds, "Looks like some sort of filtration system." Back at the alarm terminal, Syd's got the code. She enters it. "What could it be used for?" asks Vaughn. Marshall spews something about it being possibly a halon-based fire-suppression system. Vaughn leaps forward and grabs a headset. "Sydney, stop! You've got the wrong code! The alarm will be triggered by that sequence!" Syd, hearing the sound of Vaughn's voice, looks almost…well…orgasmic. "Remember the security system in Nepal?" Vaughn continues. "It's the same system. Those numbers can be converted into a password. That is the real code. Read me the sequence." Vaughn turns to Marshall. "Gimme a pen!" Marshall hands him one, and as Syd reads off the sequence, Vaughn writes it down. Weiss's team is hanging on. Vaughn figures it out. "Top Hat," he says. "Try 'Top Hat.'" Syd enters it.
"Okay, it worked," says Marshall. "The alarm's deactivated." Dix informs Weiss's team that the system is disarmed, and orders them to move in. "Roger that," responds Weiss. Vaughn wipes some sweat off his many brows. Weiss's team moves in. They shoot at some random guards and shit, as Sydney makes her way to them. From one of the downed guards, Syd picks up a shiny blue card. She grabs it and hauls ass to some door, slides the blue card through a card reader, then shoves the big door open.
A man in a white coat hovers over a patient. "CIA. Freeze!" Syd calls. The white coat dude ignores that and reaches for a weapon. Syd shoots him down. She runs over to the man on the table. "I'm CIA. You're going to be okay." The man on the table, German CIA Dude #2, is all, "Oh, thank God! I love you! Marry me!" Syd gets on the horn to base ops and is all, "I have the prisoner and he's fine." Everyone at base ops breathes several sighs of relief.
"You kept your promise," says the white coat dude from the floor. Syd grabs her gun and aims it at him in a controlled panic. "You said you would kill me." Syd looks at him blankly. "You were my favorite," he says. "You never broke." Syd lowers the gun all, what in the FUCK are you talking about? Syd drops the gun and scrambles over to him. "Who the hell are you? And what're you talking about? Wait. Why did the Covenant take two years of my life?" Oh. Too bad. White Coat Dude's dead.
X-Files Meeting Room of Lost Time. It would appear that plenty of people in the CIA have lost time. And Syd's one of them. But she's not happy about it. Dreams start yet? Nightmares? They will. Honestly, this was one useless fucking scene. Oh, and in case I'm in danger of offending anyone out there, well, this was one useless f***ing scene.
Dixon's Office. Syd busts in all, I totally dig how there are people out there who have experienced what I have, but -- dude. I cannot got back to that freakshow! And, like, yeah, I'm not gonna pretend that it's not hard, losing Vaughn. I mean, do I still have feelings for him? Hell, YEAH I do, but that's -- Dix busts a move here and says, "Sydney, this is Lauren Reed." He points to a blonde woman on a sofa. "She's going to be our new liaison to the National Security Council." Syd's sufficiently cowed. "I didn't mean to interrupt," says Syd. "I didn't know you were here." Lauren makes her way over to Syd and shakes her hand. "It's okay, really," says Lauren. Syd goes to leave. Dixon stops her. "Apparently, you had a conversation with [Mr. Head] in the men's room of the Federal Building in which you made your distaste for him abundantly clear." Syd kind of looks at both of them. "I guess I did." "Well, he got the message, because he returned to Washington," says Dixon. "He's assigned Agent Reed here in his place to assist our efforts against the Covenant. She'll also be looking into the murder of Andrean Lazarey as part of a joint investigation with the Kremlin."
Syd decides to suck it up and deal with Head's replacement. She turns to Lauren and goes, "If there's anything I can do to help…" Lauren says, "You should know, in addition to being the new NSC liaison, I'm also Michael Vaughn's wife." The camera zooms into Syd's face. "Hi," she says simply.
Oh, this is gonna get good. Or at least it BETTER.
on Alias: Oh, I don't know. Vaughn and Syd go to Russia or something. Why don't you all go watch Carnivale and leave me the hell alone?