By M. Giant
Michael's first-season enemy Jason Bly shows up in town, despite Michael having blackmailed him. It seems Bly can now blackmail Michael right back, thanks to the fact that Michael asked Barry the money launderer to track that account number he got from Derek Poole. Suddenly Michael's come over all law-abiding or something. Michael is also sort of half-assedly helping a banker neighbor of his mom's deal with a stalker. But then the "stalker" turns out to be a bank robber, who storms the place with his crew while Bly's there bugging Michael. With Michael and Bly among the many hostages and the latter wounded, Michael starts multitasking: he plays the part of a doctor to patch up Bly, calls Sam so he and Fi can help from the outside, and secretly sabotages the robbers. In the end, Michael and Sam pull a Keyser Soze on the robbers while Fi blows up their getaway truck. Now that Michael and Bly are friends as a result of their ordeal, Bly tells Michael what he found out about that secret account. And it's not good: he not only couldn't connect it to a name, but it's monitored so that now whoever owns it knows Michael's coming. You know something? I'm starting to worry about how much better the Carla-free episodes have been lately.
Between this and 24, I have seen the ends of so many episodes of House lately.
The Michael Westen Voice Over that accompanies this week's camera-swoop over the ocean into Miami is about all the ways a spy can get information: a gun, a lock pick, or a listening device. However, "more than all the other information gathering techniques combined, you get information with a free lunch." That segues into Michael and Sam walking toward some fancy outdoor restaurant while Sam complains about never getting invited to such places. "There's no need, Sam." Michael says mildly. "You'll do almost anything for a three-dollar beer." Whereas Barry the Money Launderer (I was starting to wonder when we'd see him again), who has been busy tracking down that account number that Michael got from Derek Poole last week, has earned himself a lunch at the Chadwick. "That number leads to whoever was trying to kill me," Michael says. "He's been complaining about the job for days." Sam makes his own complaints about squeaky wheels, but at least looks forward to a good mojito. "We're on a budget, Sam," Michael deadpans. "This cancels out one of the times you saved my life," Sam carps. "Maybe two." Wow, who knew Sam liked mojitos so much?
At the table, Barry asks Michael how he got the account number in the first place. "You probably don't want to know," Michael says, like he did anything more threatening than telling Seymour to turn off the blowtorch. Barry's acting weird, and talking weirder: "I understand why you hired me, Michael Westen, but you're having me break a lot of laws with this job I'm doing for you." Both Michael's and Sam's radars go ping, and even the subtitles don't want anything to do with Barry right now. Michael VOs, "When someone starts acting like there's an extra person in the conversation, it's a pretty good bet they're wearing a wire. The question then is, who's taping you?" Michael suggests talking later, "Someplace louder." But as he gets up to leave, he's stopped by a familiar fellow who grins broadly at Michael as he pulls out an earpiece. "Michael, I missed you," he grins as the subtitles reading "Jason Bly -- Government Agent" slide into place. Bly rips the wire off Barry's chest and greets Sam. "Living well off a government pension, I see." "Not that good, this is iced tea," Sam says. As you may or may not recall from Season One, Michael and Bly have this really dysfunctional relationship where they act like best friends while actually hating each other's guts. Must get exhausting for them. In fact, Michael's not in the mood to play right now, so he reminds Bly how they parted: "Remember that file I have on you? I think the idea was you were never to set foot in Miami again... At this point, blackmail ceases to be a threat. At this point, I believe I ruin your life." Bly sits down as he admits that he was worried about the file, until Barry's investigation of some very suspicious accounts got flagged. "Barry is the brick that I will tie around your neck before I throw you into that beautiful blue ocean over there. Now, how deeply you sink depends on how quickly I get that blackmail file." Michael suddenly gets all friendly-like: "Welcome to Miami," he grins at Bly. It's like they were never apart.
Back at the more familiar setting of Carlito's, Fi advises Michael to go ahead and drop the hammer on Bly. But Michael points out that Bly can link him to Barry, who has broken a lot of laws, which could screw up Michael's own life. If he ever gets it back, that is. I guess Michael is fine breaking as many laws as he can think of in his freelance life, as long as nobody actually knows about it.
When they return to Michael's loft, the door is crisscrossed with biohazard tape. As they duck inside, Michael VOs that government agents have to follow the law, "But they still have plenty of options to hit you below the belt. Sometimes a bullet to the head is better than a slow death drowning in red tape." He and Fi enter the loft to find it crawling with technicians in white coats, latex gloves, and dust masks, one of whom has just finished cutting open the back cushion on Michael's vintage green naugahyde chair. Some poor nauga gave its life in vain. A conspicuously unmasked Bly appears and announces that the Board of Health has declared the loft unfit for human habitation. "And here I thought it was just a dump." Bly also greets Fi, saying, "You're wearing more clothes than usual." Michael grabs Fi to keep her from making a run at Bly, pleasantly says he was on the fence about the destroyed chair, and thanks Bly for helping him make up his mind. "I hope you're on the fence about everything you own," Bly says jovially, "because toxic mold could be anywhere." With that, he smashes a beer bottle on the floor. Nice try, Bly. Eighty-six some of Michael's yogurt if you really want to get under his skin. Michael acts like he's not bothered by any of this, and starts to get some clothes, but of course Bly's taken care of packing for him: an overnight bag full of pink clothes. That diabolical Bly has thought of everything! "For a tough guy, you sure dress like an Easter egg," he remarks.
The effeminate valise gets dumped in his mom's kitchen, as Michael assures her that there's no danger of his bringing mold into her house with him. And indeed, it looks like Fi stayed home. "I'm glad you're out of there," Madeline says. "That place didn't sound healthy." This as she blows a cloud of cigarette smoke ironically into Michael's face. Madeline adds that her friend Paula is stopping by. "You advised her last week about the guy she met on the internet?" He clearly doesn't remember, but here Paula is. We've never seen this person before, but she's about Michael's age, so it's kind of odd that Madeline hasn't tried to set them up. Paula apologizes for bothering Michael, but she thinks her internet date, Prescott, has turned out to be a stalker. Michael offers to talk to him, as soon as he puts away his bag. Of course Madeline takes care of that, while Paula hands Michael a printout of Prescott's dating profile, according to which he lives at Del Mar Apartments. "I'm sure it'll be fine," Michael says, utterly jinxing himself. Whatever happened to "I'll see what I can do?".
Later, in the parking lot of a sprawling residential complex, Michael and Sam are coming up empty, but Michael doesn't mind too much. "Better this than sitting in my mom's kitchen, watching her smoke," Michael says. Sam suddenly has to go off for a date, which explains why he's wearing a linen suit jacket over his aloha shirt today. Of course Sam can never resist talking about his dates, and this time is no exception: "She made millions as a beer distributor... She's got a beach house in Antigua with a quad Kegerator? That's four kegs of beer at 33 degrees, baby!" As Sam takes off, Michael's response is the same one I would make: "Sounds like love." Just then Michael's cell phone rings. It's Paula, calling to tell Michael that Prescott is outside her work. "I'll be right there," Michael promises, without waiting to find out where she works.
But one edit later, Michael has apparently traced her call to a place called Broward Private Trust. Inside, Paula tells Michael that Prescott has been driving past and looking inside, and she's worried about him making a scene at this appointment-only, "very exclusive, very private" bank where she's an assistant manager. Michael starts to realize what's really going on here, and asks whether Prescott had been asking her about her work and schedules and so forth. Paula confirms as much, but she still thinks this is all about her. Michael would probably set her straight right about now, but before he can, he sees that behind her, Bly has just walked in the front door. He and Michael exchange big waves and smiles. Michael excuses himself from Paula and goes over to where Bly has taken a seat on one of the lobby sofas. Bly threatens to keep pushing Michael and asks, "You find that file yet?" "Not yet, let's talk later," Michael says. "Later's bad for me. Now is good," Bly insists. He's demanding the entire contents of Michael's blackmail file on him: "Files, phone records, the page in your diary where you drew little hearts around my name." Michael sits down to Bly, practically arm-in-arm, and asks if he really wants to do this. "You really think you have nothing to lose?" Bly asks in return. Well, that depends on whether Bly has started in on Michael's yogurt stash.
Right then Paula calls Michael's attention back to what he's here for: in fact, her "stalker" has just walked in. He's being played by the guy who plays Romo Lampkin, although I first encountered the actor on 24 as Season Five's Ivan Erwich, a.k.a. Yellow Tie. Anyway, as he enters through the bank's front door, the subtitles play along and identify him as "Prescott -- Stalker." "Heee's not a stalker," Michael says calmly. And Prescott, with four other suited guys walking in behind him and pulling out big silenced handguns, announces, "This is a robbery!" The subtitles now inform us that this is actually "Prescott -- Bank Robber." Thanks for keeping up, subtitles. With deadly efficiency, Prescott's men knock out the lone guard. A delivery guy who was already there pulls out a gun of his own, revealing himself as part of the crew. Someone produces and activates a cell phone jammer, and Prescott explains that everyone's cell phones are now useless. "So leave them on the floor and head into the conference room." When no one moves, Prescott pulls out his own gun and, with a bored expression, fires a shot into the ceiling. The silencer on the weapon kind of ruins the effect, so he has to back it up by bellowing, "Now!" As he and his men start herding the employees -- and Michael and Bly -- into the back, one of his guys steals the uniform jacket off the incapacitated guard, for reasons that will never become clear. Michael explains in VO, "There are a number of different choices when you take over a building by force. Do you keep the hostages facedown on the floor, or do you move them into a room together?" Looks like these guys are going the latter route, which they will live to regret. Well, some of them will. They move through the cube farm sweeping up more terrified employees. One floppy-haired employee is trying to dial his cell phone, until one of the robbers takes it from him and unnecessarily stomps it into the carpet. Michael continues with his VO: "And how do you deal with the place's security measures?" Like the bank manager who's locked himself into his office. But the robbers freeze the lock with a liquid-nitrogen gun, which allows Prescott to enter and tell the guy inside to get into the conference room. "Whatever your style," Michael continues, "hostile takeovers are about one thing: total dominance." Prescott adds that he's killed the silent alarm, and is prepared to do the same to the bank manager. Well, at least then they'd be together again.
While being herded into the conference room with the employees, Bly whispers a suggestion to Michael that they both grab guns and "level the playing field." Michael thinks that's a good way to get someone shot, but Bly thinks this is the only chance they might have to make a move. Michael still wants to wait. By now, almost everyone is in the conference room. Michael starts to tell everyone to keep cool, but when he turns around, he sees Bly behind the doorway, ready to pounce on the first robber who enters. "Bly," he hisses. Too late, because when one of Prescott's men -- a nameless Poor Man's Don Stroud who I'm just going to have to call Robber #2 -- drags a last employee inside, Bly grabs his gun and takes aim. But before he can fire a single shot, he gets clocked from behind by Prescott himself and drops to the floor, unconscious. As Robber #2 grabs his gun, Prescott gives a little speech to the assembled employees, now his hostages. "Welcome to my retirement party. I want you all to have a good time, so let's lay down a few ground rules, shall we? No attacking the hosts. No leaving early, no calling the police. I see one cop, I kill three of you. I see two cops, six people die. You can do the math." Apparently Prescott hasn't been reading about bankers in the newspapers lately. He concludes, "Now, mess up my party by breaking one of my rules and you can expect me to overreact." With that, he points his gun at Bly on the floor and pulls the trigger. But since he wasn't really looking where he was aiming, he just wings Bly in the left arm, waking him up right quick. The hostages scream loud enough to trigger a commercial break.After the ads, Michael shares a useful way to assess situations like this. "A wounded hostage is a good measure of how far a criminal's willing to go," he VOs. "They either want to keep the hostage alive..." Michael steps forward to help Bly, claiming he's a doctor. "Let him die," Prescott orders. "...or they don't. Which means more people are getting hurt," Michael's VO concludes. Michael calmly and quietly approaches Prescott and explains, "You have twenty hostages in an unstable psychological state. If they think they're going to die, they will panic and they will fight back. I'm just trying to make sure that you get what you want and these people stay alive." That convinces Prescott to let Michael go to work on Bly. He then singles out Paula to take him to the vault. She calls him a son of a bitch, because apparently she's still not over the fact that she thought he wanted to date her. So he helps her get over it by sticking his gun in her face. "I only need one person alive to get me the vault access codes," he threatens. Cowed, Paula leaves the room with him. Let's hope she doesn't start bugging him for a date while they're gone.
Michael has Bly propped up against the wall as he helps him out of his jacket. Under the circumstances, he's not above an "I told you so." Michael determines that he's going to have to take the bullet out. But first he assigns an employee to apply pressure to Bly's arm and hold it up. That leaves Michael free to VO, "In a hostage situation, any idiot can steal a gun and start shooting. It's a great way to get a bunch of innocent people killed." I didn't really have Bly pegged as "any idiot." Michael continues, "Keeping people alive means fighting like a spy." The moment Robber #2 has shut the conference room door, Michael asks Floppy-Hair where the data server is. Floppy-Hair says it's by the elevator, and Michael doesn't care that the power to it has been cut, since he's not going to use it for computer-y stuff anyway. He inspects the side wall and says they need to cut their way into the room and get out from there, even though it doesn't currently have an exit. "There'll be a way out," he promises. "I'm working on that part." Bly thinks the robbers guarding the door might notice, but Michael has a plan for that too that doesn't violate any of Prescott's rules. "I'm not going to attack them," he says. "They're just going to have some very bad luck." A day before Friday the 13th, even.
Michael walks right out of the conference room as though Robber #2 weren't posted right there, saying he's off to look for medical supplies. The robber protests, but Michael insists that he's just doing what Prescott told him to do. "Help me find tweezers and propoxyphene, or shoot me in the face. Your call." Which is really more of a spy thing to say than a doctor thing. Robber #2 picks door #1, and follows Michael through the cube farm. Michael defines "fighting like a spy" in VO. It means "disguising attacks as attempts to help. It means making acts of man seem like acts of God." Well, look who's so impressed with himself all of a sudden.
Back in the conference room, Bly asks if anyone has a razor or a letter opener to cut through the wall. The lady who's doing a crappy job of holding up his arm produces a pair of scissors. "We're really going to trust your friend on this?" asks Floppy-Hair. Bly: "He is not my friend, but he might be able to get us out of here." He assigns one of the employees to watch the door while Floppy-Hair gets to work on the wall, starting at the outlet. Michael's VO assures us it's not as hard as it sounds. "Start at an electrical socket and saw through the hard surface of the drywall, and the lower layers are a lot easier." He should probably add that you should cut out from the outlet instead of in. Normally this show is more careful about giving out advice that'll result in wrongful death lawsuits.
Michael has found the first-aid kit in the break room, and as he sticks a big bowl of water in the microwave, he tells Robber #2 that since the office kit sucks so much, they're going to need to search purses and desks for meds. Robber #2 balks, telling him he can use what's in the kit, so Michael nervily mocks Robber #2 for not having a medical degree. He goes rummaging through desks while he tells the robber to wait by the microwave, then promises to meet him back at the conference room. As Michael scores a big bottle of liquor from someone's drawer (looks like Meredith Palmer has a second job), he further mocks the robber for not trusting him. "You got armed guards at the door. You think I'm gonna fight my way out with a stapler?" Fortunately Michael got the robber who's too dumb to think that a hostage running around unsupervised might be able to do any other kind of damage at all. When the microwave beeps and Robber #2 goes to get the water, Michael grabs the pair of needle-nose pliers from Floppy-Hair's desk (because what banker doesn't have a pair of needle-nose pliers in his desk drawer?) and also snags Floppy-Hair's cell phone from the floor where Robber #2 stepped on it. Then he dashes into the server room and opens one of them up. As he strips a cable preparatory to wiring it to his cell, he VOs that getting past a cell phone jammer is a matter of getting a stronger signal than the one the jammer is putting out. "It can't compete with an entire Ethernet wire to serve as one big antenna." Well, if you say so.
Sam's on his date with the beer lady, who's talking as though she walked out of his fantasies. Or cantered out, as the case may be. I'm just saying. She's in mid-soliloquy, saying she decided, "No more stress, no more work, no more getting married. How many beach houses do I even need?" Sam tries to ignore his cell phone when it rings, but apparently Michael's Ethernet-boosted signal is so powerful it won't even go into Sam's voice mail. "This better be good, Mikey," he says when he finally answers. Michael tells Sam what's going on, and adds, "Any cops, any resistance, and it gets bloody." Sam's beer lady can't compete with his real love, so Sam briskly asks Michael what he needs. Michael whispers, "I need you and Fi to blast a door to the outside. Alley side wall, twenty feet in from the north." Sam says he's on his way, and hangs up. Beer Lady asks if everything is okay. Sam breezes that it is, but then cheerfully corrects himself. "Not really, no. My buddy's being held hostage at a bank, and I gotta bust him out." Beer Lady: "..." Sam assures her it's true, there's nothing to worry about, and he'll call her later. The hostages will be thirsty, after all.
Back at the bank, a couple of the robbers have noticed that Michael isn't around. While they're looking for him, Michael sneaks up to one of their equipment bags and grabs the air hammer, which he fiddles with while VOing about how dangerous they can be. "Tamper in any way with the locking collar that holds the bit in place, and the air hammer becomes a very inaccurate gun with a single bullet." Michael has done just that, sticking a match in the socket before putting it back in the bag like he found it. You know, with twenty hostages and six robbers, I don't love the odds on Michael's "very inaccurate gun." But with that done, Michael stays hidden while the robbers continue to search for him nearby, and messes with one of those pill bottles he's collected. "Mixing medications is always a bad idea," he PSAs. "Especially when one's an upper and one's a downer. Anxiety and allergy meds together are a scary combination. And that's before you add the caffeine of an energy drink." As Michael returns to the conference room, he drops the pills into an open can of something that's not quite Red Bull. Let's call it Coral Steer. When he comes into the conference room, Robber #2 pistol-whips him to the floor (practically onto Bly's blood-spatter from earlier) for taking so long, and walks out. Michael goes over to Bly, whose arm-holding duties have been taken over by Paula, which is good because Michael's been taking his time while Bly's been bleeding to death. Michael finally rips open Bly's bloody sleeve, gives him some pain meds, and says, "By the way, that green chair in my loft? It was my favorite." And a splash of strong booze goes painfully over Bly's arm. Cross Michael Westen and he will disinfect you so hard.
Sam and Fi are ready to roll, each carrying a duffel bag, and they've picked this time to be petty with each other. "You're just annoyed because Mike called me first and not you," Sam crows. Fi pretends (badly) that she doesn't care, so Sam keeps pushing, acting like he's upset about having to bail on the beer lady. "But, you know, being Michael's first call's a big responsibility." Fi snarks, "In case you're wondering, you'd be my nineteenth call. I'd call Madeline before I called you." Wow, assuming Michael's in the top slot, that's the whole cast and she still has sixteen slots to fill.
Michael is working on extracting Bly's bullet while explaining in VO how he's able to do so: "After you've stitched up a few people under artillery fire, you can handle outside pressure." Well, pardon us for doubting you, Mister Ex-Field Medic. Michael gets the bullet out and starts suturing the wound with dental floss, while encouraging Floppy-Hair to cut the wall faster. Paula provides a little exposition (along with a butterfly bandage for Michael's bleeding temple): the robbers are cleaning out the vault and the safety deposit boxes, which will take a while. But with the silent alarm out of action, "No help is coming. " Bly sees that someone's coming in, and the employees slide a credenza in place to hide the hole as Robber #2 enters to summon Michael downstairs. It seems Prescott wants to see him. Bly thanks Michael for the stitch-up, and Michael grabs his first-aid kit and takes his leave. I think he may have just patched up more than just Bly's arm.
Fi and Sam pull in across the street from the bank, as Fi confirms Michael's instructions with Sam. Except Sam forgot to find out when Michael wants it done. "It's Mike, he's improvising," he says defensively. Fi's still irritated, but Sam snipes at her to go set the charges. He's got a point; if there aren't any explosives in place, it doesn't really matter when they're supposed to go off, does it?
Michael arrives downstairs to find Prescott supervising the raiding of the vault while one of his men lies there with a gnarly wound in one leg like he was gored by a bull. Or maybe a steer. "The air hammer broke and the piston came off in his leg," Prescott explains to Michael, telling him to fix it. Michael starts by offering the hurt thief some meds, VOing, "People are too trusting when it comes to pills. They'll take whatever a doctor hands them." Michael asks to use Prescott's liquid nitrogen gun to cauterize the wound. As Prescott reluctantly brings it over, Michael VOs, "Liquid nitrogen can cool a wound to a hundred and fifty below, freezing the cells and cutting off blood flow." So could leaving my house last month. Michael also tells Prescott to tie the tourniquet around the wounded robber's leg, so Prescott crouches down, setting his gun on the floor within Michael's reach so he can use both hands to attend to his accomplice. Which is unbelievably careless of him. And I mean that in the literal sense -- I do not believe that Prescott would be so careless with his weapon. Lucky for him, Michael doesn't want to steal the gun and use it; he just sends a squirt of liquid nitrogen into the muzzle. "Freeze the inside of a gun, and the time it gets hot, it'll rip apart as though it's loaded with the wrong ammo," Michael VOs. He'd just better hope that when Prescott picks it up again he doesn't notice that it feels like it just came out of the fridge. Just as Michael finishes freezing the wounded leg, Prescott's walkie-talkie goes off -- he's being called to the conference room, where they've got trouble. I think we can safely assume that none of the robbers are wanting to complain about its décor.
Upstairs, Robber #2 has found the hole they've been working on, and he's got a gun on Floppy-Hair. Prescott calls him over, all disappointed. Floppy-Hair begs for his life, but isn't getting anywhere until Bly steps up to take the blame, handing over the scissors handle-first. "Can't stop causing trouble, eh?" Prescott says, stepping away from Bly to hand the scissors off to a minion. Then he raises his gun to shoot Bly. Everyone cringes, including Michael. But when Prescott pulls the trigger, his gun blows up in his hand. Michael's the only one who can believe it. "Shoot him!" Prescott yells, cradling his wounded hand. Robber #2 takes aim at Bly, but Michael steps between them. He tells Prescott, "You got metal shards in your hand. You're gushing arterial blood. I'm the only guy here who can save your hand. Probably your life. Tell your man to back off, or find another doctor." So this makes, what, the third time Michael has saved Bly's life this hour? Prescott tells Michael to come with him, and his men to move everyone downstairs. Where presumably they won't be able to cut through a wall to the outside.
One commercial break later, the hostages are still being transferred to the basement. Robber #2 tells Prescott they're running late. "Should I call the boat?" he asks carelessly, right in front of Michael. This isn't a conversation Prescott wants to have in public, so he tells Michael to join the stream of hostages heading downstairs. Michael complies and grabs his kit, falling into step with Bly. Since the escape as originally planned isn't happening, he's working on a plan B. "I need your help. Do you trust me?" he whispers. By now, Bly does. "I need you to collapse in that doorway. Sell it. Buy me time." Bly goes for it, and Michael crouches over him, saying he needs a couple of minutes to keep Bly from going into shock. "You have one," Prescott says, and goes on ahead with the others. Which leaves Michael to get back to his hidden Ethernet phone.
In the alley outside, Sam takes the call from Michael while Fi's taping a big cross on the outside wall. Lucky for both of them it never occurred to Prescott to wonder what the hostages planned to do once they got to the room. "Forget the escape plan," Michael tells Sam. "Prescott's moving everybody downstairs." He tells Sam that the robbers have a getaway boat waiting, and he wants Sam to find the robbers' walkie-talkie frequency. It's not clear what Michael plans to do with that information when he has it, but he probably figures you never know what might come in useful. In the doorway, Bly hisses that the robbers are coming back for them, so Michael hangs up and helps Bly to his feet, grabbing a rubber doorstop as he does so. As they walk past the elevator, Michael VOs, "Elevators have so many safety devices that they're easy to sabotage. Disable any part and the entire system shuts down." And apparently all it takes is shoving a doorstop between the sliding door and the frame, which Michael secretly does. A broken elevator isn't going to blow the whole robbery, but considering Michael's scattershot approach to his secret sabotage, he's going to end up running a pretty decent average.
Back in Fi's Saab, she complains about how they're going to locate one getaway boat in Miami. "I still think we should set off the charges, blow a hole in the wall, rush in. Beats waiting out here." Fiddling with a walkie-talkie of his own, Sam says, "Yeah, that's great. Let's get Mike and the hostages killed because you have the attention span of a three-year-old." It's the delivery that makes it work.
In the bank basement, Robber #2 tries to board the elevator with a duffel, and reports that it's busted. Meanwhile, Michael has resumed tending to Prescott's hand and is telling him he's lucky it wasn't worse. "Use the word 'lucky' again and I'm gonna put a bullet in your head," Prescott snarls. Michael distracts him with a splash of booze in the wound, which allows him to slip a wrench from an equipment bag into his first-aid kit. Prescott is starting get a little superstitious, wondering aloud if the bank is cursed. Instead of answering, Michael says he needs to go upstairs to find something to use for tape and a splint, and asks if Prescott needs any meds. "Blow your hand off and find out if you need something for the pain," Prescott bitches.
Out in the car, Fi has taken over the channel-surfing on the walkie-talkie so Sam can call up Beer Lady to smooth things over. "Is your friend okay?" she asks from a lounge chair somewhere. Sam admits, "He's still trapped inside, but it's kind of a quiet time, so I thought I would just call and say hi, so... hi." He's about to arrange a date for later, but when Fi finds the frequency he has to hang up quickly. "Sounds encrypted," he says after a moment of listening to the scrambled transmission. Fi displays some excellent comic timing as she says, "So I was wasting my time while you were buttering up your b.....imbo?" Sam says that at least they know that the marina has to be in walkie-talkie range. Which they knew before, too, but whatever. Just then a uniformed police officer pulls up, which Sam realizes could be very hazardous to the health of the hostages. "One of us needs to distract the cop and the other one needs to track down the getaway boat," Fi smirks at Sam. Sam smirks right back, "And here I forgot to shave my legs." Fi stops smirking.
The cop notices Prescott's truck, illegally parked outside the bank. It looks like he's about to go write a ticket when he's distracted by Fi, who has manufactured a contretemps with a street vendor by stealing his tip jar in retaliation for some alleged ogling. The cop goes over to mediate, and Fi keeps trumping it up until the cop gets a domestic disturbance call and has to leave. Whereupon Fi gives the tip jar back to the vendor and orders "una cortadito, por favor." Nice of her to make it worth his while.
In the downstairs conference room, Michael flops down to Bly, who asks, "We win yet?" Michael says he's still working on it, and slips Bly the wrench he stole earlier, in case things get bad. Bly slips the wrench up inside his remaining sleeve as Michael leaves with the meds he claimed to be coming in here for. As he returns to Prescott with them, he explains in VO, "Life with a hypochondriac mother gives you a useful knowledge of pharmaceuticals. In low doses, philocarpine cures dry mouth." Michael hands three fat yellow pills to Prescott, who says, "I'll take 'em after you do." Michael smiles and swallows a few himself as he continues in VO, "In high doses, it has roughly the same effect as a Sarin gas attack." Well, that certainly sounds like something he would have picked up from Madeline. Prescott still holds off on taking the pills, preferring to wait and see what happens to Michael. In the meantime, Michael's off to get a splint, and Prescott brings one of his men upstairs with him while leaving another behind to watch the hostages.
Michael returns to the kitchen, with the robber who drank the spiked Coral Steer, and who is now complaining of numb fingers and nausea. Michael offers to take the guy's pulse. He's suspicious, but doesn't try to stop Michael until it's too late and Michael is pressing on his throat. Michael VOs, "In a weakened state, you want to avoid pressure on your carotid artery." The robber tries to raise his gun, but Michael easily pushes it away and bullet after bullet gets fired into the ceiling. Since the gun is silenced and the bullets are hitting acoustic tiles, it's probably producing a negative amount of sound. "Block the blood flow to your brain and you black out in four seconds." It takes a little longer, but eventually the POV shot of Michael goes blurry and the robber is out cold. That leaves Michael free to deal with the other urgent issue on his mind right now, which is the deadly poison currently in his belly. He VOs, "The coating on tablets in medicine keeps them from dissolving right away, which buys you a little time to find some privacy and do the only safe thing: get them out of your system. So Michael leans over the trash can and sticks his fingers down his throat. If ever this show needed a "don't try this at home" disclaimer, I would think this would be it.
At the marina, Sam flags down a guy and claims he's supposed to be fixing a guy's radio, but he forgot the slip number. "Is there somebody hanging around his boat, kind of looking pissed?" Sam quickly gets pointed in the right direction.
With his system clear, Michael now sets about arming himself with the gun of the guy he just knocked out. The problem is that gun only has one bullet left in it. As he sneaks out, he keeps low, behind the cube walls, which allows him to eavesdrop unseen on Prescott and Robber #2. Apparently the vault is clear, and they can leave now. As soon as they kill all the hostages. Hmm, that doesn't sound like that'll work with Michael's plan. Whatever that plan may be at the moment.
Back from the ads, the robbers begin herding the hostages into the vault. Floppy-Hair wonders if it's time to attack, but Bly tells him to hold off. "Just trust me," he mutters.
Michael returns to his secret communications post and gets Sam on the phone again. "I'm at the marina, looking at the getaway boat," Sam answers. Michael says they're out of time and out of options. Sam suggests offering to swap the hostages for Prescott's boat driver, who we see pacing on the dock wearing a suit. Not conspicuous at all. Neither Sam nor Michael thinks Prescott will go for it. "What about a little Operation Quicksilver?" Michael suggests. I think they're engaging in some of their Westen/Axe shorthand, but apparently it's a reference to World War II, which even Sam wasn't around for. They seem to understand each other nonetheless. "I have a Walther with one bullet," Michael says. "You gotta sell this, Sam. You gotta sell this like you've never sold it before." "That's the kind of pep talk I like, Mikey," Sam says, and hangs up. As he walks up the dock toward the boat driver, his cell pone rings. It's Beer Lady again, calling to dump Sam. "I think your life is a little too fast-paced for me," she says. Don't sit and take that, Sam; tell her how long you've been working on the burn notice mystery with Michael. But instead, Sam whispers that he's just enjoying a leisurely stroll along the ocean. By now, Prescott's boat driver has made him, and he draws a gun as he comes around the corner of a tall junction box. But when he gets there, all he sees is Sam's walkie-talkie, spouting static. "Hands in the air," Sam orders from behind him, which kind of screws up the story he was trying to sell Beer Lady. Sam admits that she's probably right. "Enjoy one of those beers in Antigua for me." With that, he kicks the driver's knees out from under him. "You bastard, you ruined something special!" he pouts.
From his hiding place, Michael sees Prescott getting ready to leave. He unscrews the silencer so he can stash the Walther in the back of his pants as he VOs, "If you have one bullet and you need to take down three armed guys in close quarters, you're betting your life on a lot of lucky breaks. It's the kind of bet you don't want to make unless you have to." Michael catches up to Prescott, Robber #2, and the fake guard in the lobby, and with one hand behind him on the butt of his hidden gun, tells them that one of their guys just had a stroke in the kitchen and needs medical attention. Prescott is ready to write off his accomplice, but he doesn't seem to consider the question of what might have happened to that accomplice's gun once he lost consciousness in Michael's presence. He just orders Robber #2 to bring Michael to the vault with the others.
But just then, Prescott's walkie-talkie erupts with the sound of a very frightened boat driver. "They're at the boat. They shot me! Why didn't you tell us?" the driver wails at Prescott. At the marina, Sam is holding a gun and the driver's radio to his head. "Why didn't you tell us who owned the bank? They're coming back. We're all dead. We're all dead!" The robbers seem pretty convinced by the driver's unconvincing performance. Sam lets a burst of static go through and then talks into the radio himself, using his very scariest voice. "Tom Prescott? Was it dumb luck that you chose my bank? Or did you and your buddies decide that today was a good day to make the worst mistake of your lives?" Prescott has no idea what Sam's talking about. Sam passes up a chance to identify himself as Chuck Finley again, and gives some big talk about how no one robs his bank. The other robbers are starting to look kind of frightened as Sam goes on. "So you think you got yourself a good plan with your getaway truck and your boat? Well, I got a plan, too." Sam takes his time spinning out some very elaborate death threats. Downstairs, the two robbers who are supervising the hostages are picking up the transmission as well. And they're distracted enough by it that Bly's able to make his move, clubbing them both to the floor with the wrench and taking one of their guns before he's even down. Bly tries to keep steady while the hostages rush out of the vault behind him. As Sam finishes up his threats, Robber #2 upstairs is clearly buying the act. "He's lying," Prescott says uncertainly, claiming he did his homework. Suddenly Michael interrupts quietly to tell them about a patient that was brought into his clinic in the middle of the night. "He was tortured so badly I couldn't believe he was still breathing. A man was with him. It was the man on your radio. I'll never forget the voice." With his arms now folded in front of him --Michael doesn't even need the gun now -- Michael goes on to say that the owner of the voice held a gun to his head, and said that he wanted Michael to save the tortured man, because he wanted the pain to last longer. Kind of a coinkydinky that Michael just happens to have encountered the owner of the threatening voice on the radio, no? "He said to come here for my money, my blood money," Michael explains. Oh, okay then. But he goes on: "There's a place between life and death. Amazing how long a man can linger there." Wow, there's selling, and then there's overclosing. Prescott shuts Michael up, and speaks into his radio to tell his guys downstairs to bring everything up so they can leave. When he can't raise them, because Bly took them out, Michael pushes further: "He'll have people outside the bank, in your truck and on your boat. You have no idea who you're dealing with." Robber #2 is losing it, but Prescott insists they just take the money and run. And as he turns to the door, their truck gets blown sky-high. It shatters the lobby doors and nearly levels the whole block. There were probably enough explosives in there to blow a hole in the side of a bank. Thank you, Fi. Robber #2 freaks out and takes aim at Prescott, but Prescott shoots first. With his wounded hand, and a magically repaired gun. And then, before the fake guard can shoot Prescott, Prescott shoots him too. "Un. Believable," Prescott tells Michael. "Just not your day, I guess," Michael agrees. Instead of shooting Michael, Prescott picks up a bag and runs out the shattered front door, only to be immediately surrounded by cops. They're probably curious about that explosion. And I wouldn't care to be the officer who saw the exploding truck before it exploded, either. As he puts his hands behind his head, Prescott suddenly seems to see the humor in the situation. Oh, he doesn't know the half of it.
Now that it's over, Michael goes and sits to Bly, who asks him, "Where were we?" Michael busts out the liquor bottle and takes a swig as he reminds Bly, "I think we were deciding whether we were going to destroy each other." "Well, you've already had enough opportunities to let me die," Bly says, which is unusually mushy for him. As he takes a hit off the bottle, he tells Michael his move: "I'm gonna go pass out at the local ER. When I wake up, I'm gonna take care of the loft. And the thing with Barry." Michael asks if Bly could see his way clear to another favor.
At Madeline's house, Paula is telling her about how brave Michael and Bly were. She's leaving out the part about how stupid she was. Michael has just finished retrieving Bly's file from its hiding place: Madeline's broiler. "You just assumed I was never going to broil anything?" "So far I've been right," Michael points out, and tells Paula that Prescott won't be a problem. Well, der. I guess it doesn't matter whether he took those "pain meds" or not, now. But Michael can't resist lecturing, "You might want to select your dates a little more carefully in the future." Look who's talking. She thanks Michael and takes off. Michael says he's also leaving, since the toxic mold issue at his loft is resolved. "Board of health says my place is safe again," he says, even though he already told Madeline there wasn't a real threat to begin with. Disappointed, Madeline says she was thinking about ordering them some takeout, and Michael decides he's not in a hurry after all. "Takeout sounds good," he agrees. Madeline beams at him so hard she nearly swallows her own ears.
While walking over to Carlito's, the day, Michael tells Barry that he's off the hook with Bly. "He was just using you to get under my skin anyway." Barry feels bad about rolling over on Michael. "Don't get me wrong, I love how I look with a shaved chest." Michael says it's fine, but arranges a signal for time: Barry should offer to pay for lunch. Barry says he plans to get out of town for a while to decompress, and Michael sends him off with a handshake. He's just now arrived at the table where Sam and Fi are arguing over who had the bigger part in the operation yesterday. "He's been insufferable ever since you called him first yesterday," Fi accuses. Sam faux-smooths it over, saying, "You're good with the hands-on stuff, the simple mechanical things." "Like wiring a truck to blow?" Fi protests. "An important task, yes," Sam agrees, "but one an intelligent monkey could perform." Michael realizes the only way he's going to get out of this alive is to lie and say he actually called Fi first, but she didn't pick up. "So in the future I'm gonna call Sam first." Fi bites into her celery, which I guess for her counts as an anger-binge.
At the loft, Bly's got his arm in a sling as he looks over the blackmail file that Michael just handed him. Meanwhile Michael duct-tapes the back of his green chair back together. Really? Duct tape? Couldn't Michael just put the chair wherever he parks the Charger when it needs to heal itself? "Love your attention to detail, Michael," Bly all but moans appreciatively. "This would have been quite the career-ender." Michael returns the compliment. "I wasn't expecting you to come back with even better leverage. Well played." Michael eases into his newly repaired chair and asks Bly what he was able to find out about that Caymans account. Bly starts by saying, "We have ways of investigating that most people don't know about. No one has the reach that we do. But this?" Bly hands Michael a sheet of paper that shows the bank and the actual banker behind the account, but there's no name attached. But what is attached is what Bly calls "an electronic tripwire of sorts." And either he or Barry triggered it. "Whoever you're looking for, they know you're coming," Bly warns. He shakes Michael's hand and wishes him good luck. And then he walks out, to leave Michael to suck on that for a week. And to wonder how many times he's going to be able to get in and out of that chair before sticking to it.
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