By M. Giant
Fi helps Michael snag some security camera footage from a business near his loft, bitching about it the whole time, but Michael does score an image of the bomber. He gets sidetracked helping a high-school football player who's run afoul of a local car-theft syndicate by defending his sister's honor from a gangster named Felix. Fi's all over this, so the team dons matching black suits and gets busy trying to drive Felix out of town. It's your basic campaign of intimidation, until Michael gets an audition for Felix's boss. Eventually Felix sets Michael up for an ambush, and when Michael brings the boss along, Felix's career path is clearly at an end. By now, Fi has tracked the bomber to an address, but discovers too late that the place is rigged to burn to the ground if anyone enters. Michael's so freaked out from thinking she's dead that when she turns out not to be, they get back together. As for the other woman in Michael's life, Carla is starting to lose her cool over how long Michael's investigation is taking. Pressure from above? Whatever the case, the old saying about shit rolling downhill doesn't appear to be applying to Michael.
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A trademark Michael Westen Voice Over tells us about the benefits of an actual honest-to-goodness intelligence agency: "An official structure. A chain of command to report to, protocols to be observed." And Michael likes these things? Well he does in comparison to being a freelancer, in which case, "Getting your team on board may require some convincing." Especially if your team includes Fi. When we join them, they're getting out of her Saab on an industrial road as she gives Michael a hard time for wanting to find his bomber. Or, more accurately, for his reasons he's doing it: namely, because Carla wants him to. Michael insists, "When I find him, I'll have more on them." But it's not until he assures her that there will be pain at the end of the search that she gets helpful. By this point, they're standing outside a chain link fence, looking through it at a storage facility equipped with security cameras. Apparently those cameras cover the road to Michael's place. Fi also hands Michael a slip of paper, telling him it has the name of the person who installed the security system, as well as the model number. "You do care," Michael grins. Maybe the real reason she objects to this project is because she's the one doing all the work.
Oh, never mind, here we go. Later, Michael is wearing a blue work shirt and carrying what looks like an old VCR under his left arm, which I guess is fully healed by now. An employee named Kay escorts him across the lot to the building. Michael VOs about how much spies love it when someone replaces old electronic equipment: "Getting information becomes as easy as looking through the trash." Michael and the employee enter the office as Michael prattles on in a Cajun accent about how "Phil" was supposed to call Kay about an upgrade they needed, which he, Michael, is ostensibly there to perform. He follows her to the room where the security system is, all ready to switch out the new unit for the old one. While he's doing that, she gets the idea to check with the security company to make sure they sent him. Michael plays it cool, already swapping out the unit for the one he brought. He VOs, "When you need to steal information in a hurry, just arrange the technology upgrade yourself." By now, Kay is on the phone with the security company, whose representative makes the mistake of asking to talk to Michael. She hands Michael the phone, and Michael pretends to be a patient employee dealing with idiot coworkers, while the guy on the phone is screaming at Michael about calling the police. "Just save me a donut!" Michael says jovially before hanging up Kay's phone and handing it back to her. Too bad he didn't have a handy sink to drop it into. "Well, somebody's in trouble, but it ain't me," he guarawntees, and starts to walk out with the old unit. Is he going to make it before alarms start going off? Well, Michael's VO has thought of that, too: "If you need to buy a few seconds in an office environment, programming a computer to dial every phone in an office simultaneously is simple and cheap. Just set up your cell phone to trigger the call remotely." Michael is already dialing his phone as the increasingly suspicious Kay follows him back to the door, but she gets distracted when every phone in the place goes off. Michael runs out the door. "People run out of offices all the time," his VO assures us. "If the look on your face says, 'I'm in a hurry,' you can go as fast as you want. It's all about covering ground before the yelling starts." And that's how Michael gets out of the gate before it closes, and into Fi's car before Kay comes running out and yelling at him to stop. Well, at least she got a new surveillance unit out of the deal, even if it's blank.
Later, at the loft, Michael is concentrating on playing back the footage on his laptop while Fi sits across the counter, bored and annoyed at being ignored, as though there's any other reasonable response to Fi. She resorts to reading the contents of her fortune cookie out loud: "The one you love is closer than you think." She pretends that Michael's reads "The one who burned you is closer than you think," and actually gets a little attention from him for about five seconds. He's probably just wondering how a fortune got into his yogurt in the first place. She gives him some more shit about being Carla's piss-boy, and he reminds her, because she is slow, that that's exactly what he's trying to fix. "The guy who blew me up? She hates him, so I would like to meet him." Right on cue, Michael has found a clip of a guy who passed the camera twice on the day of the bombing, and plays it back for Fi. She notes the guy's collapsible ladder and city worker uniform. "Meet the man who tried to kill me," Michael says, zooming in on his face. Well, Michael blew up the picture, so does that mean they're even?
After the credits, during lunch at Carlito's, Michael is showing some screen-grab printouts of the bomber to Sam, who isn't impressed with his long-haired everyman appearance. I was kind of hoping for at least a recognizable actor, but apparently the show blew its guest-star budget for the week on Kirk "Sticky Fingaz" Jones. Michael says Fi is checking it out. That'll learn her to complain about Michael's projects. Sam gives Michael some good news: he's getting them third-row, 50-yard line tickets to a Dolphins game, and is disappointed that Michael doesn't seem thrilled. "Come on, Mikey, when was the last time you did something regular people do?" Michael is wondering exactly how they're getting these tickets, and Sam admits that they'll need to do a little favor for an ex-Dolphin buddy of his. "And there it is," Michael grumps. Sam figures they can wrap it up in a day, because that's how it always works out on this show.
Off to a high-school football field, where the team is in mid-practice. Michael has already met Sam's friend Sean Martin, the former football player who now coaches at the school. Michael asks the coach how they can help, and he says it's actually for one of his players, a kid named Corey Jensen. It seems Corey got into a fight with a local gangster named Felix Cole, who now wants Corey dead. Michael mutters something at Sam, as though this doesn't land squarely in his comfort zone. All Sean has in mind is for them to talk to Corey, who is staying at Sean's place with his sister for the time being. Michael doesn't think that's safe, and Sam agrees to go pick them up. Sean gives Sam a grateful fist-bump and gets back to work. Sam turns to Michael and says, "Okay, it's not a little problem, but we're not exactly talking nosebleed seats either here, huh?" He holds out his own fist for a bump, but Michael just leaves him hanging. Cold. I'd like to see them handle a little problem for once myself, if only to spend a little more time advancing the series arc.
As they leave, they encounter Carla, leaning her ass against Michael's (fully repaired) Charger. "Hello, Michael. Is now a good time?" she smarms as a black SUV screeches to a halt behind her. Clearly it's not a yes-or-no question.
In Carla's spartan new office, she cuts the zip-ties on his wrists and pulls the bag off his head. "Don't I get tied to the chair?" he asks. "Don't get soft on me now, Carla." Something else is up with Carla -- she's dropped the all-knowing, all-powerful, all-ready-to-kill-you persona and is acting almost like a normal person. "We want to know how your investigation is going," she asks politely. "We? Who's we?" Michael asks, calling out, "Love to meet the team if they're around!" She invites him to sit, and shares a little information with him: the bomb at his place was rigged with the same methods and materials used on the other operatives. Michael's ears prick up at the use of the plural, and Carla tries to act like she didn't just let something slip. Michael asks for names, and she refuses. "I thought you weren't going to tie my hands," he complains as she slips a folder to him across the desk. "I've seen your work," she says. "You do just fine with your hands tied." He's not modest enough to argue the point. She tells him he's allowed to look at the file she's just given him, but not take it out of the room. And if he has to go to the bathroom? "You're just gonna have to hold it," she smirks. "My men have orders to shoot you if you try and leave the room." She leaves Michael to it. Seems like given the conditions she imposed on him, she could at least spread some newspaper on the floor.
Later, at the loft, Sam opens the courtyard gate as Michael walks up. "You look unbruised," he observes curiously, as though Michael usually gets beaten up at these meetings. "Just a few paper cuts," Michael quips. He tells Sam that Carla thinks the bomber is from out of town. "So the big bad burn notice lady's a step behind you?" Sam remarks. Michael says that to keep it that way, he asked her to find him some stuff on bombings in Serbia and Montenegro to keep her busy. Which I'm sure she'll appreciate when she finds out the truth. Sam approves, and tells her that Fi is upstairs with Corey and his sister. "Just a heads-up," Sam warns as he heads out to pick up dinner, "this one has Fi a little...fired up." Oh, good, maybe now she'll be more obnoxious than usual.
When Michael enters the loft, Corey and his little sister Tanya stand up to greet him. They seem like a couple of nice kids. Obviously. Just once I'd like to see Michael have to help someone who's kind of an asshole. Fi's standing there, wound tighter than a guitar string. I hope it's not the kids she's mad at. She brings Michael up to speed. "It seems this man, Felix? He took Tanya for a ride in his car. And then he attacked her. And she escaped, barely, and then Corey went after him with a baseball bat." Corey explains that he was just looking out for his little sister. Which Fi totally gets. "Use a golf club time," she advises. "Greater force to a smaller area." Michael and Corey exchange a worried look about the scary lady, and Corey continues that now Felix is after him. "It's fine. We'll take care of it," Fi breezes. Michael says, "Fiona? Could I talk with you out on the balcony?" You know it's a serious talk when he calls her Fiona.
Out back, Fi fires the first volley, firmly stating, "We are helping these kids." Michael for once thinks this is something the police needs to handle. But Fi is too worked up to listen. "You're letting your emotions get the better of you," he condescends. She corrects him: "I'm letting my emotions run the show and I feel verystrongly about this." Well, Michael's not going to argue about that, and neither are the subtitles, which tell us we're now looking at "Corey and Tanya -- The Clients."
So now we're off to a stakeout. The Charger's parked on the street, with Michael and Fiona in front and Corey in the back. Pointing to a dinky little bar across the street, Corey explains that it's Felix's HQ. "His crew boosts cars for the 24K syndicate. That's him to the GTO." And there's Mr. Fingaz himself, attending to a shiny red classic. Corey expresses regret at tangling with what he calls a "stone-cold gangster." "Felix Cole -- Gangster" says the subtitle. Fi corrects Corey: "He doesn't deserve to be called a gangster. Anyone who attacks a 15-year-old is a pervert." And with that, the word "gangster" slides out of the subtitle and the word "pervert" slides in. Even the subtitles are scared of Fi right now. Corey adds that now the whole 24K crew is after him. "This is getting better and better," Michael complains. Corey points out another guy, a heavyset man with a suit and sunglasses giving Felix a hug. This would be Tony Soto, the boss. "Tony Soto -- The Boss," agree the subtitles. Corey adds that Felix makes a lot of money for Tony by being behind every car theft in the neighborhood. This Corey kid is sure on top of the intelligence for this little operation. "I don't think there's anything you guys can do," Corey says. Fi assures him there's a long list of things, but the scene ends before she can get into discussing the places she'd like to put that aforementioned golf club.
.Back at the loft, the team discusses how this new challenge is more than what they expected, but Fi's already figured out a way to deal with Felix's powerful connections. "We'll just have to disconnect him, won't we? Tony won't back Felix if we put him out of business. A new gang of car thieves is coming to town," she says. Whew, and not a moment too soon. Let's hope Felix is scared of them. "We're going to have to stash Corey and his sister Tanya somewhere for a little bit," Sam points out.
That is of course our cue to head over to Madeline's house. Unlike last week, she's quite happy to be putting up Michael's underage clients and immersing them in secondhand smoke. "If you didn't bring people over, I'd never see you," she happily passive-aggressives. She also thanks Michael for what he did for his brother Nate. This is the first Michael's heard of anything Nate-related this week, but Madeline thought Michael was the one who not only got Nate cut loose, but had the record of Nate's arrest expunged. "You didn't do that?" she asks. "Not exactly," Michael admits. "It was done for me." Madeline asks him to thank his friends for her, then. "Yeah," Michael says, "my friends put him in jail in the first place, actually, so..." "Sometimes I forget how complicated your life is," Madeline frowns from inside her cloud of cigarette smoke.
Cut to a little getting-dressed montage as Michael VOs, "There's a reason armies wear uniforms, even though they make them easier to spot. Sometimes, that's what you want. Uniforms suggest organization, power, and numbers. These, in turn, inspire fear. And as any good operative knows, there's no more effective weapon than fear." What about a big fucking gun? That can be kind of effective, too. But in this case, weapons are simply accessories for their matching outfits of black suits, white shirts, pinky rings, and sunglasses. We get a hero-shot of the three of them walking out, with Sam carrying a shotgun, Michael with a pistol tucked into his waistband, and Fi carrying God-knows-what somewhere on her person. Maybe a golf club. Maybe an exploding golf club.
Felix and a couple of his goons are cruising around in his red GTO. When they stop at a light, Michael's Charger pulls up to them, with Sam at the wheel, Michael in the shotgun seat (which is about to be a misnomer), and Fi in back. Michael calls to Felix through the open window, "Nice car. It's too bad, really." "What's too bad?" Felix asks, stupidly not alarmed. And suddenly Michael holds up a pepper grenade and tosses it into Felix's car. "Not lethal, but a face full of pepper gas will keep you pretty busy," he VOs. As the GTO fills with gas and its occupants begin to panic, Sam and Fi get out of the Charger. "Don't go anywhere, the party's just starting," Michael says, pulling his gun on Felix before the gangster/pervert can open his car door. Sam gets to work shooting out Felix's tires with the shotgun, while Fi impassively sets a coffee can on the hood. None of our heroes appear affected by the pepper gas in any way, because it's helpfully staying inside Felix's car instead of dispersing out his wide-open windows. Michael VOs, "Melting through the engine block of a car isn't hard if you know what you're doing." Fi lights the fuse. "A few pounds of thermite in a coffee can and a fuse will do the trick and put on a pretty good show." As Felix watches the burning can sink through his hood, and Sam and Fi get back in the Charger, Michael tells Felix, "It's time for you to leave Miami." Sam peels out, and they miss the part where the burning can drops all the way to the pavement And thence, presumably, to Papua New Guinea.
Back at Madeline's, Corey is shocked at their collective cojones. "He's gonna come after you," he obviouses to Michael. Michael says that's kind of the point. Corey's been doing his part: he's been looking through mug shots Sam gave him, and was able to identify Felix's top three car thieves. Again, Corey, coming through big-time with the intelligence. They should consider making him part of the team after this. Madeline presents them with a plate of crackers. "Mom, these are like cardboard," Michael slurs through his first miserable bite. Madeline explains they were in the back of the cupboard. "They were a few years old," she shrugs. She explains how Corey's been helping out by cleaning out all the old food. "He ate a can of smoked oysters that I've had since you were a baby." "A little salty, but they really hit the spot," Corey remarks, moments before toppling over from several varieties of intestinal poisons. Tanya rather ungratefully asks if they can go home now. Michael tells them not yet, and asks if they have any family that Felix might go after. Seems like that would have been wise to ask earlier. Corey says it's just the two of them except for some family up north, and of course Coach Sean.
So Sam goes to Sean, who's already heard about Felix's adventure. Word travels fast in this neighborhood. "The engine of his car melted into the road? It's crazy." Sam says that's what they're after, explaining, "You want Felix to worry about something that's bigger than some kid beating him up." Makes sense to Sean, who asks how he can help. Sam just wants Sean to lie low for a while. "You're asking me to hide?" Sean asks. "Of course not," Sam says." I just need you to be someplace where no one can see you." Sean doesn't like the idea, but Sam just keeps politely insisting until the scene ends. As we'll see, he should insist better.
Back at the loft, Michael and Fi are working on a little homemade explosive device while Michael VOs about how handy a fire exit can be for getting into a building. "The right shape charge will put a big enough dent in a steel door to disengage the lock, which can turn a fire exit into a convenient and unexpected entrance." All you need to do is attach a coil of "detcord" to a rubber mat. Really? What aisle of Home Depot is the detcord on? Is it to the thermite? Michael's struggling with it a bit, because he's suddenly craft-impaired, so Fi takes over. While she's busy winding the cord around itself, she lets him know that she's getting somewhere on his bomber. She thinks he might work at a place called A.S.A. Dismantling, a local demolition company. Why she thinks this is not something she feels compelled to share, but I'm sure it'll pan out. These things always do. She offers to check it out, just as they finish up. She holds it up for him and whispers, "It's beautiful." Michael agrees with her. Which is always a good policy when you're standing a foot away from a crazy lady with a bomb.
The Charger is back in place across the street from Felix's dinky little bar, but now Michael and his team are in it, back in costume. Sam says the front of the place is guarded, and Felix is inside, near the back. He also hands Michael a fresh business card, and they get going. Maybe Michael should take a look at the business card first, just to find out who he is.
Inside, Felix is ranting at his guys about what happened to his car, but they're all at a loss. He's also wearing his shirt unbuttoned, the better to show off the bandage around his middle from where Corey beat him up. Yeah, that's hard-ass. Meanwhile, in the alley out back, Michael and Fi and Sam are getting into position. Michael VOs about the concept of "Blitzkrieg," and how it applies to what they're about to do. It's basically to fill time as Fi places the charge on the door, they go around the corner of the building, and the charge goes off. Felix and his guys are still in mid-flinch when Sam leads the charge inside, brandishing his shotgun and ordering everyone's hands up. Behind him comes Fi, then Michael. "Who the hell are you people?" Felix demands. Michael sets his new business card down on the bar and uses a kind of evil-game-show-announcer voice to introduce himself as Johnny. "We got a lot in common, Felix. We're both in the car-theft game. Only we work Miami and you, well, you work someplace else." He gives Felix 48 hours to leave town. In the background, Fi is pouring Michael a drink, but keeps pouring the liquor on the bar even after Michael picks up the glass. Felix blusters, and as Michael downs the shot, he sarcastically empathizes with Felix's protests. "I hear you, you're busy, you got a lot to do. After all, you only have..." "47 hours, 59 minutes, and 10 seconds," Sam chimes in, with a look at his watch. "...Left," Michael says, as Fi finishes emptying the bottle on the bar. "You got a lot of headaches here you don't need. Miami's very humid in the summer. You got all these people you have to manage. Plus, your place is on fire." He turns to go, as Fi tosses a lit Zippo on the bar, setting it alight. Well, that was a nicely choreographed bit of intimidation. Felix screams death threats after them, but lets them walk out the same way they came in. Does the dude not own a gun?
Michael and Fi return to the loft, commenting on the amount of food Corey is putting away over at Madeline's. Okay, really, he's not that big. Fi says, "I have to say, I like this Johnny. He's got flair. He reminds me of your cover in Dublin." Michael sits on his neatly made bed and murmurs his old cover name, "Michael McBride" in a much better Irish accent than Fi ever had in the pilot. "Sometimes I wonder if he's the one I fell in love with," she says. Michael keeps up the brogue as he says, "I wouldn't be surprised. We caused a lot of mayhem, you and I." Fi agrees, and asks where he went. Michael drops the accent as he says, "Well, you know how 'tis with cover ID. You become who you need to be." "And everyone gets to guess who you really are," Fi says. Whatever that means. With that, she takes off. "I have an appointment at A.S.A. Dismantling and Demolition," she says. Michael starts to say something about what to do if she sees the bomber, and she assures him, "I'll give him a kiss from you." Be sure to use tongue.
Later Fi struts onto a demolition site, sporting a walk and a dress that wouldn't be out of place on Betty Boop. She quickly finds the tall, handsome foreman, a guy named Eric who she apparently talked to on the phone yesterday using the cover ID of "Nina Roberts." "You sell the calendars," he remembers as he removes his hardhat. She holds up a beefcake calendar featuring firemen and corrects that she makes them, and she wants to put together one with a "men of demolition" theme. "Nothing turns a woman on more than when something goes boom," she says. She asks him for names and photos of his crew, and asks him to keep it quiet, claiming it's to prevent any hurt feelings. "All I need is another homely firefighter offering to wax his chest in my office," she says. He tries to flirt with her, and she plays right into it, panting, "I think I'm looking at Mr. January right here." Oh, quit working it. Some people lay it on with a trowel, but Fi prefers to use a snow shovel.
Sitting in his car in a parking ramp in his Johnny-suit, Michael talks about the importance of target selection. "You want to take out the people your opponent depends on, the ones his organization can't function without." With that, he approaches one of Felix's car thieves, who looks to be in mid-boost. "Lose your keys? I can give you a ride," he snarls. A short fistfight later, the thief is on the ground. At the docks, Sam greets another henchman with his shotgun. "Loaded it with a beanbag round so it won't do any permanent damage," he says pleasantly. The guy turns to run, and Sam fires, flattening him. "But the temporary damage, that hurts like hell," Sam says. "Heh, heh." And elsewhere, a third goon is driving down the road until he's cut off by Fiona's Saab. As they get out of their respective vehicles, she says, "Maybe we should exchange insurance information. Or, maybe you could put these on and get into the trunk of my car." The big old gun she's suddenly pointing at him tends to suggests she's leaning more toward the latter option.
When we see these three goons, they're hogtied outside Felix's bar with duct tape over their mouths. A bit showy? "There's an element of theater in any offensive campaign," Michael VOs as Felix comes out to see what his enemies have wrought. "It's not just about bullets and bodies; killing people usually creates more problems than it solves. It's about undermining your enemy's will to fight. Destroying the morale of his troops. Sending the message that fighting back is useless because the battle is already lost." By now, Felix has noticed that Sam, Fi, and Michael are loitering to the Charger, right across the street. On his Bluetooth, Michael calls Felix's cell phone and says, "I bought you a little going-away present." The present being that they're still alive. Felix pulls a gun from his pants, like he's ready to rock and roll right now, and Michael reveals his own gun (in addition to the shotgun that seems to have come free with Sam's suit) and warns, "I'm good to go if you are. You really want to do this in front of all these people in broad daylight?" Felix thinks better of it, and threatens, "Just you wait, Johnny Boy." Checking his watch, Michael agrees to wait 23 hours and 14 minutes. Just then Michael's phone rings with an incoming call. It's Felix's boss, Tony Soto, of all people. He tells Michael that there's a car coming, and he wants Michael to get in it. Michael responds, "I'm new to Miami, but are most people that stupid here?" Tony says he'll leave two of his own men with Sam and Fi to guarantee Michael's safety. Convinced, Michael tells them, "I'm going to meet Tony Soto." And into the car he goes. And he doesn't even have to wear a bag on his head this time.
After the ads, Michael is ushered into a restaurant as he VOs, "There's an old saying that no plan survives the battlefield. Often, as a situation evolves, you create new enemies. Sometimes you create new alliances and friends. Soldiers are fine for dealing with the enemies, but you need a spy to handle new friends." And that's how Michael meets Tony Soto, sitting at a table with a couple of other people and wreathed in cigar smoke. He quickly gets to the point, complimenting "Johnny" on his style and sharing his disenchantment with Felix as of late. "Any guy who lets someone punk him like you did, lets a 17-year-old kick his ass with a baseball bat? Well, I can't have that kind of weakness in my house." No matter how sticky his fingaz may be. Michael doesn't exactly argue. He says he wants to be the only game in town. Tony says nobody operates in this town without dealing with him, and Michael readily agrees to do just that, and continues piling on Felix. "He steals a few cars for sale and lays the rest off in chop shops. Go to a high school, a kid can do that." He claims that his operation does exporting. Intrigued, Tony asks how that works with customs. "Oh, yeah, customs...didn't think about that," Michael doesn't stutter. Actually, he smoothly says, "We clean 'em and clone 'em. Untraceable. Sell them at twice the price. I can't have these idiots running around boosting minivans with a shim and a screwdriver." Tony laughs at Michael's spiel, impressed. "But let's see if you can deliver."
Outside the restaurant, a silver Maserati pulls up to the curb where Michael and Tony are waiting. "Show me how it works. You could be my new car man," Tony invites. Michael steps into the car. "Felix is out," Tony confirms as Michael prepares to drive off. "Or you are." Well, if nothing else, Michael got a hell of a nice car out of the deal.
Back at the loft, Sam admires Michael's bright, shiny job application. "So meanwhile, some poor guy's running around looking for his $150,000 car," he remarks. Michael says they'll get it back to him, although we never find out how. Sam reports that he looked in on Felix, who has put the word out to look for Corey. "That was the plan," Michael says. "We made him look vulnerable. With Tony breathing down his neck, he has to look strong now." "Fine, quit yappin', let's go," Sam says impatiently.
Back to Madeline's house, where Sam and Michael get busy with the car in the garage. Michael VOs that stealing a car isn't that difficult. Although you'll notice that the show, usually so educational, isn't telling us how to do it. "The hard part is selling it once you have it. Between the license, registration, tax records, and VIN numbers, it's surprisingly hard to turn a car into cash. The best approach is to start with clean paperwork on another car from out of state, then match the stolen car to the clean paperwork." Sam's busy flipping through a bound list of cars that he just had lying around, and then he's helping Michael remove the Maserati's windshield. Then it's just a matter of stamping a new dashboard VIN strip (using the handy VIN strip stamper like the one you have in your own garage) and laser-printing a new registration sticker for the door frame. "And in case someone decides to check closely," Michael VOs as they do one final act of vandalism on the car, "some hydrochloric acid and a file will make the etched VIN number on the chassis impossible to read." With all that taken care of, Sam offers to drive the car around South Beach for a while. "Knock yourself out, I've got a meeting." Michael says. Oh, yeah, the Carla plot.
Carla gets into the back seat of the SUV from earlier. Michael is already sitting there, with the black bag over his head. "Do we have to go all the way to your office or can we just do this here?" he says from inside the bag. As the vehicle gets into motion, Carla frees his hands to remove the bag and hands him a list of "everybody who's ever blown something up in Eastern Europe. Your ex-girlfriend's on there." Michael is comfortable ruling Fi out, since this isn't 24. Which, this season, is actually kind of too bad. Pretending to look through all the names, Michael says it could take a while. "Two days," Carla declares, and has the driver pull over on the spot. "I could get started that much faster if you'd just drop me off at home," Michael suggests, and is already rattling off directions when Carla tells him goodbye. He hops out, but not without favoring her with a boyish pout first.
Presumably in exchange for all the food he's pouring down his gullet, Madeline is now making Cory and Tanya sit at her kitchen table and look at old family photos. It's worth mentioning that in the eighties, Michael's mother somehow didn't look anything like Chris Cagney. Corey mocks 15-year-old Michael's red Christmas sweater, and Tanya says they never had a family like that. "Neither did we, sweetheart," Madeline assures her. She points out the bruise on Michael's cheek in the photo, and says he got it from his dad after coming to Nate's defense. And the photo happened in the first place because Madeline threatened to throw away the dinner if they didn't pose for it. "He fought his dad on Christmas?" Corey says. "He was being a good big brother," Madeline says. "Like you." Aw. Except Corey beat up a gangster, not his dad, and not on Christmas. He probably would have let it slide on Christmas.
At the demolition site, the foreman hands Fi a stack of photos, with his own headshot on the top of the stack. So to speak. Fi says she'll schedule photo sessions in a few weeks, and mimes locking her lips and throwing away the key. If only. "I'll be waiting," the dude calls after her. It would be funnier if he were ugly. I'm not saying it would be very funny, but it would be more funny than the negative amount of funny it is now.
Fi's already found the photo she wants by the time she gets to her car. She calls up Michael and tells him that the bomber's name appears to be Derek Poole. "Can you get a home address?" Michael asks as he and Sam are getting into costume at the loft. "What do you think?" she answers. This whole investigation of hers seems to be kind of backward; who finds an employer and then a name and then an address? Anyway, only moments after he hangs up, there's a knock on Michael's door. "You expecting somebody, Mike?" Sam asks. Michael isn't, and he cocks his gun and stands there while he lets Sam go to the door, his own weapon at the ready. Sam opens the door, but it's just Sean, with a bloody handkerchief to his mouth. Nice job laying low, Coach.
After the ads, Sean has stopped the bleeding, and is sitting at Michael's counter as he explains that Felix and his crew jumped him and ordered him to set up a meeting with Corey, or else they'd go after Corey's teammates. "He said he just wanted to talk to him," Sean says. "No, he's going to kill him," Michael corrects mildly. "Probably kill you both." Sean wonders what happens . "Felix is on the edge. It's time to push him over," Michael declares. He tells Sean to set up the meeting. "It's all right, we've done this before," Sam assures him. Yeah, I hate to say it, but that's kind of the problem with this show lately.
Later, Sam gives Michael the address for the meeting Felix wants: "It's an alley." Michael figures it for an ambush. "You won yourself a beer, Mikey," Sam says, sliding a bottle toward Michael. Sam says this fits with what he's learned about Felix's usual MO. "Basically, car pulls in, bad guys box him in, hose him down with lead." "This I can work with," Michael says, finally touching the beer he won -- only to slide it back to Sam, who asks, "Can I work with that?" Of course he can. Michael isn't any more likely to accept beer than he is money.
Back to the courtyard, and some more vehicle modification. As Sam and Michael open up the back of a green Kia station wagon to reveal stacks of phone books, Michael VOs, "There are a couple of ways to make a vehicle bullet-resistant. $60,000 worth of titanium siding will do the job. Or you can pick up a couple extra copies of the yellow pages from your local phone company." Obviously Michael's going the budget route. He continues, "Most non-armor-piercing bullets will only penetrate a phone book to a depth of an inch or two. Behind a layer of steel, it's more like a quarter of an inch." Which is why Michael and Sam are ripping the books in half before stuffing them into the door, side, and hatch panels. What about the tires? Well, that's what cans of Fix-a-Flat are for. Unfortunately, there's not a cheap way to do the windows: "Dual-layer, high-density Plexiglas is your best bet. It's expensive, but bulletproof glass is not the sort of thing you skimp on." Michael doesn't explain where he got it or how he's making it fit the car so perfectly, but it's in, so let's move on.
Later, Michael and Fi are in uniform at a restaurant table with Tony, who's impressed with Michael's work, and is ready to go check out his operation. So Michael, Fi, Tony, and Tony's bodyguard head out in the bullet-hardened Kia. "I figured you for a nicer ride," Tony remarks from the back seat. Michael says they don't like to go to work in anything flashy. Unless they've just stolen it, I assume. "We can't afford to attract attention," adds Fi, in her attention-attracting suit. Tony approves, and Michael asks about Felix. "If this checks out, I'll take care of Felix," Tony promises. While he's at it, I wish he'd take care of another Felix, 24 hours from now and a few slots up the dial.
As the car proceeds down the road, Michael VOs about all the wars that have been fought over misunderstandings and mistakes that can "turn people against each other forever. Of course, it's not so tragic when you're the one creating the misunderstanding." With that, Felix and his crew in a 60's-era corvette pull in behind the Kia -- which they recognize as Corey's car -- following them all the way to the rendezvous alley. Michael is just telling Tony that this alley is to the warehouse where they operate. Fi suddenly turns and "notices" Felix's car blocking the alley's exit behind them. Michael pretends to be annoyed and curious about why Felix is there, until Felix and his crew hop out and start spraying bullets. "Get down!" Fi yells, and everyone ducks behind the seats. Michael throws the car in reverse and screeches out of the alley, leaving Felix and his goons behind. Way to bring one car to a roadblock, Felix.
Once Michael and his passengers are safe, they pull over somewhere to ditch the car, which looks like they've been carpooling with Sonny Corleone and Bonnie & Clyde. "You have a few things to straighten out before we get into business together," Michael understates. Tony's so pissed off about Felix having tried to kill him that he doesn't wonder why. Michael says they're going to leave Miami for a while and give Tony a chance to clean house, as Sam pulls up behind them in the Charger. "There's our ride," Michael says without turning around. As they pull out, Tony is already wanting to get on the phone to "take care of this cat." Cat? Ooh, brr!
After a quick change of clothes, Michael and Sam head over to the football field for the wrap-up: Sean says that Felix and his crew left town rather than wait around for Tony to find them. Lame. I liked it better when Michael got the bad guys killed. For now, he just says, "It's probably safe to park in that part of town for a while." Sean hands them not two but three tickets. "I heard there was a lady doing most of the work." Well, yes, but on a different subplot. And Michael will probably just scalp his tickets anyway, if he can find a Dolphins fan willing to part with enough yogurt. Corey and Tanya show up to thank Sam and Michael for their help. I assume that's for his help getting rid of Felix, and not for giving them lung cancer by making them hang around Madeline and turning Corey's car into a cheese grater. Sam responds that if Corey ever ends up at the Super Bowl, he wants tickets. "I want to be sitting on a goal post." Which sounds uncomfortable, if you ask me.
With that taken care of, Michael gets a call on his cell from Fi, who has found the bomber's house. Michael says he's on his way. Fi reports that the signs indicate nobody's been living there for a while. "I think I may go in and poke around while I'm waiting," she says. Michael tries to call her off, but she sneers, "You think I've never broken into a house before?" Michael just settles for telling her to be careful, which I'm sure will go equally unheeded. She hangs up without giving him the address, and heads across the street.
As she picks the lock in the front door to let herself in, the subject of Michael's VO indicates that something's about to go down. "When you booby-trap someone else's place, you put the trigger in the door or just inside, so the odds of tripping it are much higher. If you rig your own place, the trigger has to be farther inside so you can safely enter." Which Fi has by now done. Michael adds that a tripwire is quick and dirty. "But a contact plate under the rug is completely undetectable." Until, that is, we hear Fi stepping on it. She must be wearing super-heavy shoes. Because it triggers, and suddenly every light fixture in the room explodes, igniting walls which have clearly been soaked with some kind of accelerant. Which I can only assume is odorless, because even Fi's not that stupid, is she? "There's a reason they call it a firetrap," Michael concludes as she looks worriedly around the burning room. Looks like someone put the "Fi" in "firetrap."
By the time Michael arrives at the scene, the fire department has cordoned and cordoned off the whole street while the house burns like a house on fire. He's also trying to reach her on her cell phone, but keeps getting her voice mail. "It's Fi, leave a message," says her outgoing greeting. Given how much time I spend wishing she'd shut up, I find that kind of brevity refreshing. Michael ducks the caution tape, but can't get past the firefighters pushing him back, no matter how many questions he yells about whether anyone was in there. Normally he'd be able to have most of Miami-Dade's bravest lying on the pavement in a matter of seconds, but apparently he's forgotten all of his fu in his panic over Fi. The fire department keeps hosing down the house as he leaves, leaving her another voice mail. "Pick up the phone!," he yells, also having forgotten that cell phone voice mails don't usually work like answering machines. "Call me if you get this! I need to know where you are!" I'm really trying not to let my wishful thinking get the better of me here. Would they really kill of Fi? Well, as I may have said at some time, somewhere, this isn't 24.
By the time Michael gets home, it's dark and raining, so he's apparently been spending the balance of the day and night desperately searching for Fi at gun shows and tanning salons. After dialing his cell and getting Fi's voice mail for the umpteenth time (again, so glad she has a short greeting), he climbs the stairs to his loft, getting soaked in his despair Lloyd Dobbler-style. He takes so long enough getting his door unlocked and his key unstuck before turning around that we know damn well that Fi's in there waiting for him. "There you are," she drones from the counter. "You have got to get a landline in here." As Michael turns to look at her in amazement, Fi explains what happened: "I waited for a burnout in one of the windows. Now I need a new cell phone." She holds up the phone that is the only part of her that's remotely singed. Michael just walks right up to her, not saying a word, and she realizes what he thought. He drips on her a little bit before kissing her, and then drips on her some more as they go into a clinch. Well, Madeline will be happy.
After what I assume is a night of lots more dripping, Michael lets himself back into the loft with a takeout bag, trying to be quiet. "Breakfast? For me?" Carla asks from his counter, spoiling the mood. "I see Fiona's spending the night now," she adds. "Good for you, putting down roots." Carla asks how he investigation is going, and Michael starts spinning. "I ruled out everyone on the list you gave me. I took another look at the blast. I'm checking demolition specialists, private contractors. You could have someone look at that list and see if there's anyone worth flagging." Which would be fine, except he says it all in a tone that's perfectly calculated to both annoy Carla and telegraph the fact that he's lying. Carla is, to say the least, disappointed. "From what I hear, you have plenty of time to run around town playing dress-up with your friends, but the best you can do for me is a needle in a haystack?" she snarls at him. Michael asks if she has a better idea, and she tells him he's it. "Make no mistake, there are those who think you're more trouble than you're worth." Which is something I've kind of been saying for a while. Thanks for getting on board, Carla's coworkers. "I've convinced them that you're useful because you can find the bomber. What do you think's going to happen to you if you don't deliver?" "Same thing that would happen to you, I suppose," he retorts. And now we know why Carla's been so nervous all hour. "You gonna run that check for me?" Michael asks. Defeated, Carla asks for the list, and leaves him with a lame warning to look out for himself, or he won't be around to help anyone else. Bye again, Carla. Michael pulls out his phone and dials Fi's number, possibly to check whether she's still in the loft without actually going upstairs to check. "It's Fi, leave a message," he hears. Well, thanks for providing a little button to the episode, Michael. Even if it didn't make much sense.
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M. Giant is a Minneapolis-based writer with a wife, a son, and a number of cats that seems to have settled at around two. Learn waaaay too much about him at Velcrometer, or just e-mail him at M.Giant[at]gmail.com