Burn Notice TV Show - Simon Says - Burn Notice Photos & Videos, Burn Notice Reviews & Burn Notice Recaps | TWoP

Aired 03-04-2010

Michael is ever so on the run from the authorities after Gilroy's death and Simon's explosive break-out. He, Sam and Fi go underground to figure out their move. When going to retrieve the Charger, Michael meets Simon himself, and learns of his beef with Michael, which is this: All the unspeakable crimes Michael's burn notice accuses him of having committed? Simon's the one who actually did them, and he wants his bad reputation back. To get it, he asks Michael to contact Management to set up a meeting. And to ensure Michael's cooperation, he's got a bomb ready to go off in a hotel.

Sam and Fi are tasked with finding said bomb, which they track to the Epic Hotel and defuse with minor damage. But by that time, Simon has ditched Michael, and Management is on his way to a meeting Michael can't properly secure. Still, Management thinks he's got everything under control until his helicopter blows up. Michael barely escapes with his life while Simon abducts Management. Michael goes after them alone while Sam calls in the Feds. Michael ends up with a gun to Simon's head, but Management talks him out of closing the deal in exchange for the vaguest possible promise, and Michael and Simon both end up arrested.

Throughout all this, Madeline is being grilled by an FBI agent who clearly knows what he's doing. But Madeline heroically keeps mum. Which kind of proves to be all for naught when Michael, in maximum security custody, is seen being led in shackles past gates and guards and guns, until his headbag is removed and he looks around to find himself…in what looks like some rich person's library. Wait, what?

Watch this episode here, then discuss it in our forums. Then see what Jeffrey Donovan knows about Burn Notice Season 4!

Lots of previouslies, going all the way back to the end of Season Two, and then right up until the moment Gilroy's car blew up in the final seconds of last week's episode. Which is a good tone-setter for what's going to follow this hour.

It's hard to tell exactly how long after that we pick up. On the one hand, Michael is just sitting up from where he clearly dove off the shoulder of the road, obviously having gotten clear in time, in case you were worried. But on the other hand, Gilroy's Range Rover looks like it's been on fire long enough to have roasted a pig over it. Michael whips off his sunglasses and whips out his cell phone to update Sam on the situation: Gilroy is dead and the prisoner is out. "The whole reason we were getting involved here, Mike, was so he didn't!" Sam says angrily, like this is Michael's fault. Which, okay, it sort of is, a little. Michael's more than aware of this, and says all he knows is that the man's name is Simon, and now Michael can hear sirens getting louder. They must have found an alternate route to the bridge he just River Kwai-ed. Michael's already worried about the cops, but Sam tells him now it's also the FBI and Homeland Security. "Pretty soon it's going to be the IRS, the Forest Service, and the Food and Drug Administration." Don't tell me Michael is going to have to recall all those sports drinks he's been occasionally using for nefarious purposes. Michael says he's making a run for it and asks Sam to do some recon for him. Sam agrees without needing further instructions, but as he hangs up and gets in his car, he mutters, "Holy crapoley." I guess you can say that on USA.

As Michael runs down the open road, pursued by a single police car with its sirens and flashers going but its engine clearly running on cooking sherry, he VOs, "Spies are in the lawbreaking business." A black SUV is also closing in from another direction. "Call it espionage, covert ops, whatever you like. When you get right down to it, you're a criminal, working for a good cause. When your job involves daily lawbreaking, chances are you're going to find yourself on the wrong end of a manhunt at some point." Michael finally disappears into the trees lining the side of the road, and the officer in the cop car stops and jumps out, radioing for backup. Just then is when Michael jumps out from behind him, grabs him, bounces his face off the hood, and hauls him to the ground into a sleeper hold. "I don't want to hurt you, just stop!" Michael tells the struggling man, only to get backhanded in the face. Watch the shades, officer! Michael holds on, though, and soon the cop is out cold. Michael picks up the cop's gun and runs, just as that black SUV comes around the corner. Michael cuts through a yard to the canal, where a jet-ski is conveniently tied up so he can jump right on it. As he pulls off the cover of the steering yoke to hotwire it, he VOs, "It's hard to get used to the idea that doing the right thing can mean being public enemy number one." The guy in that SUV, a brush-cut fellow in sunglasses who looks like he means business, gets out and levels his gun at Michael from behind the hood of his truck, yelling at him to stop. Michael doesn't, until a bullet hits the piling above his head. "The good news is you're usually too busy trying to survive to get upset." Michael pulls out that service automatic and points it behind him, prompting his pursuer to duck. Michael shifts his aim and takes out the truck's driver's side window instead, by which time he's got the jet-ski running and is roaring away. "The best thing is to get away, deal with the situation, and hope people are in a forgiving mood." Well, I'm sorry to tell him that the guy who takes another couple of shots at him before he's out of range doesn't really seem to be feeling very Christlike right now.

Emerging from the back of a white minivan at a park & ride the morning, Michael VOs, "Commuter parking lots are great for fugitives. You can get some sleep while your pursuers lose momentum to exhaustion and shift changes." That's great, as long as you can find a commuter lot that caters to people who work nights and is never patrolled. If I could find one of those, I'd quit paying my mortgage. "It's also one-stop shopping for a new phone or dry clothes." Michael breaks into a station wagon that has some dry-cleaning hanging from the back seat hook. Serves the owner right for having regular everyday shirts professionally laundered. After changing, Michael finds a phone in another vehicle's glove compartment and dials it. Sam answers, "Sam Axe Fugitive Assistance Service, Sam speaking. How was your night?" From down the street from Michael's place, he tells Michael that two surveillance teams have his place staked out, so I guess that was the recon Michael was asking for. Couples can read each other's minds like that after a while, you know. Michael realizes he can't go home, but they still have to find Simon. You think maybe someone's working on that already, Michael? I'm sure when a maximum security black flight dropped off the radar, the authorities didn't just shrug and say "Ah, well, live and learn." But Sam agrees with our hero, and has already called Fi and Madeline to bring them up to speed. "Meet at the emergency spot?" Michael asks. But because this is a season finale, Sam's actually thinking the emergency emergency spot.

Madeline is packing an overnight bag, but is having trouble fitting her shotgun in there and has to wrap a blouse around the part of the barrel that sticks out. Get a bigger suitcase, Madeline, or a smaller gun While she's still doing that, there's a knock at the front door. And when she opens it, which she really shouldn't have, standing there are a couple of guys in suits and sunglasses. The very same guy who shot at Michael in the teaser holds up his badge and introduces himself as Agent Callahan from the FBI. "Agent Callahan -- FBI," the subtitles confirm. The actor is the same guy who played Mikey Palmice on The Sopranos early on, but the intervening years have taken a toll and if he's not careful he's going to start looking like a younger Tom Sizemore, and we know where that leads. But for now, he's got more immediate concerns: "We need to talk to you about your son, Michael." Okay, but as long as he doesn't bring up her other son, Nate. That's still kind of embarrassing.

By M. Giant

thing we see, she's sitting at the dining room table while Callahan asks her of she was planning a trip. Madeline kind of muffs that answer, but it's going to be the last time, so don't worry. Callahan wonders about the shotgun in the bag. "Can't be too careful these days," she says glibly. Callahan tells Madeline that he just wants to get the facts from Michael, whom he says is in great danger. "Please, help me help him," he appeals. He can tell by Madeline's packed bag that she knows how to reach Michael, and he'd like her to do that to set up a meeting Madeline takes her time lighting her cigarette. "Now," Callahan insists. Well, don't make a federal case out of it.

"Spies love places people tend to avoid," Michael VOs, which would probably be my favorite thing about being a spy that he's told me about so far, until he gets more specific: "Sewage plants, toxic dumps, condemned motels." Oh, never mind. He's at an example of the latter with Fi and Sam as the VO continues that these are "all places you can put emergency supplies and not worry about whether they'll be there when you need them." As long as "condemned" doesn't become "demolished," sure. They open up a barn-style door into a storage alcove as Sam says they have plenty of guns, but with no fridge, "there's no yogurt and no beer." Whoa, this episode just got dark. A phone in Sam's pocket rings -- "The emergency emergency phone," he says, and adds that Madeline's the only person who knows the number, other than the three of them, and none of them appear to be dialing it. Sam hands the phone to Michael. He hears his mom say in a shaky voice, "There's been a change of plans. I want you to come home right now. I need to talk to you." Michael starts to ask what's wrong, but Madeline cuts him off and hangs up. As if that whole exchange wasn't a clear enough signal as it is, Michael tells Fi and Sam that's what she used to say when his dad was on a bender and he needed to stay away. Sam is worried about how much Madeline knows and will be able to tell the FBI, but Fi's not worried about anything. "I have faith in her. She'll be fine," Fi says blithely. Maybe, but she's going to have a really bad day, in case anyone gives a shit about that. Sam bags up the guns and they head out.

Michael's less than half a block from where the Charger is waiting as he VOs, "A good operative doesn't believe in coincidences." At the far end of the block, a street vendor's stand suddenly bursts into flames. As Michael starts looking suspiciously around, the VO continues, "It's true, of course, that food stands catch fire from time to time. It's even possible that one might catch fire at the same time you happen to be looking for a violent fugitive." Which is when Michael notices that the high-end TV store behind him has his own face on every screen in the window. "But it's sure not likely." Thank you, Michael, for that incisive analysis.

Michael walks over to the store, pulling the gun from the back of his pants before entering. There doesn't seem to be anyone in there, but all of the display TVs are showing different scenes of fire, destruction, and mayhem, and it's not even a Michael Bay film festival. The shopkeeper is lying dead on the floor, with the blood on his back already coagulating. "Any of it look familiar?" a voice calls out. We see Simon's face for the first time as he peeks out of the door to the back room, and though it's not a character we've seen on this show before like I was convinced it would be, the deranged-looking face belongs to Garret Dillahunt of Deadwood, John from Cincinnati, and so much other stuff I've never seen. The subtitles ever-so-helpfully read, "Simon -- ?" Thanks, subtitles, for clearing that up. While Michael holds his gun leveled at him, Simon comes out into the main room, armed with nothing but a TV remote. He's not nearly as big as I thought he was last week. Or, alternately, as big as the body double who played the back of him last week. Simon explains that everything currently happening on the monitors is stuff Michael was accused of doing. "The very things that earned you your burn notice." Michael says he didn't do any of it. "I know that," Simon duhs. "I did." "All of it?" Michael asks. "Not the boring parts," Simon admits. Michael says it's time to go. "No, we won't be doing that," Simon sighs boredly, and directs Michael's attention to the one monitor that isn't showing horrible destruction -- at least not yet. This one has a live video feed of some barrels. Simon explains, "A few tons of explosives, in a hotel in Miami Beach. There's the detonator... fuel and fertilizer mixture. Behave, or that screen gets a lot more exciting." Well at least it would match the rest, then. Simon makes Michael put his gun and phone down on the counter and explains why Michael's going to help him. "The powers that be decided that I was uncontrollable." Now why would they ever do that? "They dumped me in a hole, they transferred my file to you. Gave you a fearsome reputation. My reputation." Michael asks if he wants it back. "I want my life back," Simon says, which is usually Michael's line. Michael says Simon is more than welcome to it, his eyes going almost wide enough to glow through the sunglasses he's still wearing inside for some reason. Seriously, where's the conflict? Sounds like Michael and Simon want the same thing, aside from the trail of dead Simon seems to be leaving everywhere he goes. Well, the conflict arises when Simon explains who he needs to do that. "You know him as Management." And Simon wants Michael to bring Management to Miami. Michael protests, "He ruined my life. We're not on good terms." Like this is a sweet 16 party Simon's planning. Simon says that Management wants Michael bad enough to come when he calls. And if not, "You'll have to convince him or... boom." Thanks for throwing that O-face in there, Simon. He adds that he's been following Michael's activities, so I guess that hole he got dumped in at least has cable. "Just think of me as one of those people you help in our spare time. A desperate fella with a problem." Over Simon's faux-pathetic face, the subtitles get right on board, and dub him "Simon -- The Client." The last shot before the ads is a close-up on Michael's face as he realizes with horror, Shit, then this makes me Garfunkel.

By M. Giant

Michael returns to Simon ands says he figured out a way in. "And the surveillance?" Simon asks, still fooled by Michael's lie. "I took care of it," Michael says coldly. Especially for someone who just committed vehicular arson. At least the fire department's already on its way to help that poor street vendor. And anyway, the property damage we're going to see tonight is only going to ramp up from here.

Back at Madeline's, Agent Callahan can't help noticing how Michael has failed to show up, and has figured out that she gave Michael a signal to stay away. Too bad the FBI got involved; if this were still just Miami-Dade PD, Detective Paxson would have left hours ago, looking more bored than ever. And if Lane and Harris were still on the case, the one with the hairspray helmet would be too afraid of Madeline's cigarette to get in her face at all. Not fooled by Madeline's claim of innocence, Callahan tries another approach, asking how much she knows about Michael. "I prefer to give him his privacy," she says, which is true enough depending on her mood. Callahan claims that Michael kills people. Not nearly enough, if you ask me. He shows Madeline some photos of the same greatest hits Simon showed Michael earlier. Madeline feels sick, but Callahan won't let her look away. "He didn't do this," Madeline whispers, at least 95% sure of it. Callahan is like, "You think he's gonna say, 'Sorry mom, I blew up a bus today?'" Well, given how bad Michael is at lying to his mom, he wouldn't have to. Callahan again asks where she was planning to meet Michael, and after a long drag on her cigarette, she directs him to the food court at the Sawgrass Mills Mall and pushes the file off the table. "Thank you," Callahan says, because it's not like he has to clean up her floor.

Fi and Sam are staking out the house of the guy Fi has successfully tracked as Simon's explosives expert. They can see the guy through his giant front window, wandering around in his bathrobe. "He's got more guns in there than a little African country," Fi remarks. Sam figures they shouldn't knock on the front door, and cues a car commercial by asking, "Fi, how does this baby handle?"

The little Hyundai speeds through the residential streets, ostensibly to get a running start but really so the commercial's voice-over announcer, who sounds a lot like Michael, has time to say, "When entering a possible combat situation, you want the element of surprise on your side. It's why special forces like to rappel down from helicopters. Of course, if you don't have a helicopter, you may have to improvise." At least that sales pitch is a departure from the usual blather about standard features and superlatives like how it's the best, most efficient, safest, or cookie-smellingest car in its class. The car skids around, losing most of its momentum in a 90-degree spin at the bottom of the driveway, then crashes right through the bomber's front window and into his living room. This does little for the space's feng shui. The householder stands stunned for about a second, then runs to the end of the room for a weapon, "Hi, honey I'm home," Sam quips as he and Fi get out with their guns on him, making him drop his. "Keith -- Hotel Bomber," the subtitles say. Well, at least knowing they have the right guy will save some time.

Cut to a few minutes later, as they're just finishing binding him to a chair with postal tape. Which is much better than duct tape, because have you ever tried to rip postal tape without a sharp object on hand? My basement is full of Amazon boxes I've never been able to get into. Anyway, Keith makes a pretty poor show of keeping his mouth shut, copping to "a little side work for a biker gang." Fi informs him this is her turf, and as such the biker gang rolled over on Keith. "If I asked them to drag you back to Rhode Island behind their Harleys, they would," she explains. "Just so that I would owe them a favor, capisce?" Keith just admits defeat rather than laugh openly at the spectacle of Gabrielle Anwar attempting to say "capisce." He explains that he built a bomb according to specs and put it in the basement of the Epic Hotel. Rather than going there right now, Sam gets all judgy, but Keith says he was too afraid of the client to say no. "He's grade-A psycho," he tells Fi. "You'd like him." Fi smiles thinly and asks how it's set up. Keith says it has a timer and a remote. Sam tells Fi they should probably head over, and tells Keith to sit tight, as if he has any choice. "The cops'll be here any minute." Yes, and I'm sure Keith will be the one they're interested in, since he clearly didn't crash through his own house. In his current state, Keith has a better chance of being picked up by the FedEx guy.

Simon and Michael get out of Simon's car near the river that flows past Michael's loft. "Shall we?" Simon asks, ready to jump in right now. Michael insists that he needs to go alone. "I'm swimming across the canal, scaling a back wall, and coming in through the roof. I'm not sure I can do that alone without being seen." So Simon gives Michael ten minutes, which Michael thinks is a joke. "What can I say? I'm hilarious," Simon deadpans. With the clock ticking -- or beeping, rather -- Michael dives in and starts swimming.

Outside Michael's loft, one of the agents stationed outside hears a loud bang coming from up on the roof. Smooth, Michael. Unseen if not unheard, he drops in through the skylight, lowering himself by the sprinkler pipe, and comes down the stairs. The VO is saying, "Work in intelligence long enough, and you hang onto phone numbers. No matter who your enemy is, there's a chance you'll need him tomorrow." With that, Michael opens a false bottom in a drawer of his desk, where he's stashed a spare cell phone and the cutesy "Missing You" card he got from Management at the beginning of this season. With Management's number written on the back. The VO continues, "Churchill and Stalin weren't chummy in 1941, but once the Nazis marched on Moscow, they got past their differences." Obviously Simon is the Nazis and Miami is Moscow, but which of the other two is Stalin? [I'm sure Michael thinks he's Churchill. - Zach] Michael dials the number and a woman answers in the most generic way possible, "Answering service." Michael says, "This is Michael Westen. I need to speak to Management." He's immediately transferred to the man himself. With only a ten-minute window, he's lucky to have caught him at his desk and not during a bathroom break. At Management's age, those could be taking a while. While talking, Michael busies himself with the contents of a small metal box. Since one of those items is a small block of C-4, you can probably guess what he's doing with his hands for the rest of the conversation. Management asks if Michael has changed his mind, as though that's likely after the threat Management issued a year ago lasted all of half the season. Michael says he's calling about Simon, and if he didn't already have Management's attention, he'd have it now. "He escaped from whatever hole you put him in and now he wants your head." He gives Management the time and address Simon gave for the rendezvous, and Management tells him to keep Simon put while he sends a team. Michael says that won't work, because Simon's too smart for that. Yes, smart enough to let Michael out of his sight not once but twice. "He thinks I'm willing to hand you over if means clearing my name." Michael's plan: Management comes, but he brings a team to take Simon down. Did he come up with that all by himself? Management agrees, but makes the obligatory threats before the subtitles finally remember to remind us that he's still "Management" and not Frasier's dad. Michael has been keeping an eye the FBI agents outside who have been cautiously thinking about maybe considering the possibility of eventually entering the courtyard, so he casually tosses a wrench through his front window, followed by the little Tupperware bomb he just made, as he tells Management, "Gotta go, talk to you later." Michel heads back up to go out the way he came in, as we see the agents outside finally starting to move in. "When a trained team is advancing on your position," Michael says, "sneaking away is usually impossible. Your best bet is to give them something else to worry about." While running up the stairs, Michael hits the remote detonator in his hand, and the bomb in the courtyard blows up big enough to smash his own windows. Oddly, he doesn't offer a VO about the benefits of blowing up your own place vs. letting someone else do it.

By M. Giant

Fi drives that little blue Hyundai up to the front of the Epic Hotel, and as they get out, Sam makes a remark that sounds like he's angling for that voice-over commercial announcing gig himself. Then he tips the valet to keep it out front while they head inside for a quick errand. Wait, you can do that?

Inside, Sam and Fi find a huge basement storage room, and roll aside a giant laundry bin so Fi can get a load of the bomb. She doesn't like what she sees. And if the bomb had eyes, I'm sure it would be mutual. On top of one of the bomb's four 55-gallon drums is a circuit-board sandwich bolted down over several blocks of C-4. "Right up against a load-bearing wall," Fi notices. She opens her bomb-defusing kit, which today appears to contain a big Thermos of liquid nitrogen and two pairs of thick rubber gloves, the latter of which they put on. "Liquid nitrogen isn't available at the corner store," Michael VOs. "But it is a standard part of a bomb-maker's workshop. It's also useful for defusing explosives." As Fi starts pouring the stuff over the detonator in a cloud of mist, the VO continues, "On a well-made bomb, you can forget about cutting wires. Any decent bomb-maker will make sure the important wires are impossible to reach." Once Fi has emptied the container, Sam says, "Well, Fi, it's been real." "Yes it has," she agrees. As Sam puts his hands on the device and pulls the circuitry free, Michael's VO adds, "Freeze the detonator, though, and you can usually remove it safely." Sam gets it loose. "Of course, 'usually' is not a word you want to hear when you're working with explosives." While Sam is carrying the detonator away, making me wonder how he plans to get it past the front desk clerk, it beeps on him. Fi tells him to get rid of it fast. On their way out of the room at a run, Sam throws it behind several giant racks of water cooler bottles, and then they brace themselves as soon as they're around the corner. But nothing happens, to their great relief. Until it does, that is, and just the detonator has enough boom to knock over a lot of water jugs. They may have to tip that valet a little more generously now.

Simon stops his car along the shoreline, rhapsodizes briefly about the sea air, and tells Michael this is where he gets off. That doesn't really fit with Michael's plan, so he tries to argue that Simon needs his help scouting the site. Simon says he's got it covered with his own team, which he's about to put in place. All Michael needs to do is be at the building with Management at six. Simon, it seems, is fully aware that Michael may not actually feel as cooperative as he's been acting, and offers him a little flexibility: "We don't have to do this my way. My way, however, is the only way that doesn't involve the deaths of thousands of people. Your call." Michael hands Simon his gun back and pouts, "I'll see you at six." Simon reminds him that everybody wins if this goes right (well, not Management, I'm guessing), and even gives Michael his phone back. "Call your friends. I'll see you soon." Michael gets out and watches Simon drive away without even another car within handy stealing distance to follow in. Poor guy just got Garfunkeled again.

Michael dials and reaches Sam just as he and Fi are leaving he Epic Hotel, with a little too much ease if you ask me. I guess with the fire alarms going off they're trying to blend in among the general confusion. Sam tells Michael the bomb's out of commission and they're clear. "We're a lot of things, Sam, but clear isn't one of them," Michael says.

The news just keeps coming into Madeline's house via Callahan's cell phone. "There was an explosion in a hotel in Miami Beach," he tells Madeline. Of course he thinks it was Michael's work, which would probably piss Simon off no end if he knew -- Michael getting credit for even his bad deeds of this very day. Madeline insists Michael wouldn't do that. Callahan gives her the file again, about which she loudly insists, "These are all lies!" Callahan says he saw it himself, yells. "I saw your son attack a police officer, Mrs. Westen... He tried to kill me! You live in a fantasy world, lady! You have no idea who your own son really is!" Madeline does know one thing: "If Michael wanted to kill you, you'd be dead." Ah, a mother's loyalty. Callahan gives her one more chance. "Do you really want to pay for your son's mistakes?" he asks. "He paid for mine," Madeline says softly. Ooh, that's a good line. Unfortunately it also gets her arrested. Which makes it a really good line.

Oblivious to Madeline's predicament, Michael, Sam, and Fi are all on a hotel rooftop pool deck, looking across at the government building chosen by Simon as the meeting site. Sam takes in what the tactical situation will be at ground level: "You've got two teams shooting it out in traffic." Fi suggests, "We got the bomb. He's lost his leverage. We should shoot the bastard." That kind of suggestion is just a rote exercise in futility for her at this point, which is why she's so stunned when Michael readily agrees. "All righty then," Sam says gravely, because Fi is too dumbstruck by Michael actually listening to her to speak. But then there's more disagreement, because Michael's off to meet Management, on his own, unarmed. "I'm just there to make sure Simon shows up," he says. Fi asks where Simon is, and Michael figures he's set up a few miles away in an armored truck. "That's what I would do." But didn't we get here in the first place because Michael and Simon are two different people?

Management's helicopter takes off from an airport somewhere, flies over the water for a while, and comes in over Miami. Michael watches from the roof of the government building as it sets down on the helipad above him. "To be a spy," he VOs, "you need physical fitness, a facility with languages, a tolerance for exotic food and the bugs that come with them. But ultimately there's no greater qualification than the ability to look someone who ruined your life in the eye and say, 'Let's work together.'" Whereas if you only have that last skill and none of the others, welcome to corporate America. Management and his one bodyguard walk down the stairs to meet Michael. Management asks Michael where Simon is. Michael assumes he's waiting to grab Management at street level. Management warns, "I might look like a nice old man, but I assure you I am not." He might look that way, but he doesn't. Michael asks if Management's people are in place, which they are: They've even identified Simon's team. Michael is surprised to hear that Simon's people are already set up. "Locals, apparently," Management says. "They'll be eliminated as soon as the extraction starts." Michael doesn't see why someone who paid $10 million to get out of prison would hire an amateur team. Because he spent all his money getting out and doesn't have enough left to enlist Blackwater? Let's just not even get into the question of where a maximum-security prisoner got a hold of ten million dollars in the first place. That's a lot of smokes to sell in the yard. When Management remains confident, Michael looks up at the chopper and asks him, "How many helipads in the area?" "Just the one," Management says, which tells Michael all he needs to know. "He knew where you were going to land!" Management looks up at the helicopter as though to make sure it's still there. Which, after a second, it isn't, replaced by a roaring fireball. I guess Keith was holding out on Sam and Fi after all. All three men standing below are sent sprawling as bits of helicopter rain down around them. It's into this chaotic scene that Simon walks, wearing a blue security guard's uniform with a drawn gun, and looking for all the world like the T-1000. Michael raises his bleeding head, and his vision focuses just in time to see Simon casually shoot Management's bodyguard without even looking at him. Before Michael can get up. Simon kicks him in the face (there go the sunglasses, and I'd like to know who's going to send them back to him this time) and stands on his neck. "Guess I was wrong about that 'everybody wins' thing," he drawls. Fortunately for Michael, Simon wants to gloat for a while, which gives Michael time to whip out that combat knife and stick it in Simon's leg. Good thing he wasn't unarmed after all. Michael's able to roll the wounded Simon off him and make a run for it across the rooftop, which is now a smoking debris field. He doesn't appear to spare Management a thought or a glance, which is probably wise, because after pulling the knife out of his leg, Simon starts shooting just as Michael reaches the railing and vaults over, with no time to see how far down it is until he's in the air. It looks pretty far, at least from this camera angle, and Michael lands hard with a groan of pain and lies there for a second, writhing. He should consider himself lucky not to have suffered that inside-out ankle thing that's been so rampant this season. Management gets to his feet -- with Simon's none-too-gentle help -- just as the real guards come running. With Management's body hiding his gun from them, Simon says he doesn't know what happened. "This guy's hurt, I'm gonna take him downstairs." The other guards just let them go rather than wonder who the new guard is on a day when aircraft are blowing up on top of their building.

Sam is trying to raise Michael on his cell phone, now that he and Fi can see the thick plume of helicopter-smoke from below. Michael does manage to get his phone out of is pocket and answer it while looking over the railing of the level he's on now. From this angle, it looks like he only dropped one floor, which, wuss. "Things didn't go quite as planned," he understates. Sam asks if he can get down to them on the street. "I'm working on it," Michael says, running to the other end of the balcony, where fortunately some remodeling has been going on. The lucky part for him is that one of those large trash disposal chutes is set up. As Michael climbs into it, he VOs, "There's no trick to getting down off a building quickly. Gravity will take care of that for you. The challenge is getting down without breaking your neck." Gosh, the things you learn as a spy. Michael takes a ride down the chute and lands roughly in the Dumpster as Sam and Fi come running. He hauls himself out and starts talking to them in what sounds like a whole new character voice, that of Just Got Kicked In The Stomach While Smoking An Asbestos Bong Guy. "Simon got away. He's with Management. He's wearing a blue security uniform." And, as Michael can now see through the building's open ground-level parking structure, he's putting Management into an ambulance. Not sure how Simon got Management past his backup when Michael spotted them both without even looking. Michael tells them to call the FBI and make sure they follow him in the truck he's stealing. Fi tries to remind him about the new sticking-together policy, which I guess was just Michael talking earlier. "I gotta do this one on my own," he insists. So for the third season finale in a row, he goes off without either of them knowing if they'll ever see each other again. Unfortunately, we do. He gets into a construction truck and screeches off as Sam dials his phone.

Michael's going to have a job catching up to Simon's ambulance, which is going full-throttle with the siren and horn blasting away. Clearly Simon took Michael's earlier advice about sneaking away to heart. Even getting behind him requires cutting across a parking lot and crashing through a fence. Simon's so confident of getting away that he's bandaging his leg while driving. Michael finds himself cut off by traffic -- you know, people pulling back out after the ambulance has passed -- so he cuts through an alley. Which will be great if Simon's escape route takes over to the block and back the way he came, which doesn't seem likely. But fortunately, that's exactly where Simon does go, and Michael times it perfectly to come out of the alley at speed, at the perfect moment to T-bone the ambulance. So let's go over the mayhem we've seen in this episode: two high-speed collisions involving large vehicles, one involving a house, two fires and three explosions, not counting the one in the previouslies. Can't accuse the show of penny-pinching this week. Both vehicles are rendered non-functional, and so is Michael, almost. But he still stumbles out of the truck to mix it up with Simon to the ambulance. Simon crashes him face-first into the side of the ambulance, leaving a smear of blood there. But Michael does that Donald O'Connor run-up-the-wall-and-somersault thing to get behind him, jumps on Simon's back, and topples him backwards on top of himself. Pinning Simon's legs with his own, Michael for the second time today puts Simon's own gun to his head. "Michael! Don't! Let us take care of him," Management says as he exits the ambulance, apparently none the worse for wear, and apparently having ridden patiently in the back that whole time, and apparently not holding a grudge against Michael for abandoning him on the roof a minute ago. Michael tells Management that he had his chance, and cocks the gun. Management screams Michael's name like an angry father, and says, "Shooting an unarmed man with the FBI about to arrive will put a big dent in your future." Management suddenly has Michael's attention. "And you have a big future," Management adds. Now Michael is also bleeding from the lip, as a result of that fishhook he just swallowed. Seriously, even if Management is telling the truth, does Michael really think he has anything in mind for him other than doing the same private dirty work Michael's been refusing to even hear about all along? Hearing the sirens, Management says, "I should go," and does, walking off around the corner. He's got a whole support team to fire, after all.

By M. Giant

At Madeline's house, Agent Callahan finishes up a phone call and tells Madeline their agents didn't find anything at Sawgrass Mills Mall. Not even on the clearance racks? He says he could charge her with aiding and abetting, but she calls it a "senior moment." An unamused Callahan starts yelling at her about the accident that he thinks Michael just caused. "People were injured! My people! These were men with families, and you're sitting there, letting it happen." Callahan's partner comes in with a box from the garage, which contains "modified shotgun rounds, listening devices, bomb-making components." Madeline should have distracted them by showing them the false back in the front closet, which hides such incriminating materials as her late husband's porn stash. Instead, she quickly says of the found contraband, "Those are mine." Callahan comes over all upset on her behalf, warning that she's confessing to federal crimes. "That may seem very noble right now, but believe me, after you're in a federal prison for a few years, you will feel very different." Yes, because Michael would let that happen. We'd see Madeline behind bars and a subtitle that reads "Madeline -- The Client" and she'd be a free woman by 10:55 Eastern. Callahan sits down and tries to tell her that he's the only one who still wants to take Michael alive, unlike the people who are out there after him. "They will shoot first and ask questions later," says the only person who's shot at Michael all day. So far, I should say, but still.

By M. Giant

Management's helicopter takes off from an airport somewhere, flies over the water for a while, and comes in over Miami.

By M. Giant

Michael watches from the roof of the government building as it sets down on the helipad above him. "To be a spy," he VOs, "you need physical fitness, a facility with languages, a tolerance for exotic food and the bugs that come with them. But ultimately there's no greater qualification than the ability to look someone who ruined your life in the eye and say, 'Let's work together.'" Whereas if you only have that last skill and none of the others, welcome to corporate America. Management and his one bodyguard walk down the stairs to meet Michael. Management asks Michael where Simon is. Michael assumes he's waiting to grab Management at street level. Management warns, "I might look like a nice old man, but I assure you I am not." He might look that way, but he doesn't. Michael asks if Management's people are in place, which they are: They've even identified Simon's team. Michael is surprised to hear that Simon's people are already set up. "Locals, apparently," Management says. "They'll be eliminated as soon as the extraction starts." Michael doesn't see why someone who paid $10 million to get out of prison would hire an amateur team. Because he spent all his money getting out and doesn't have enough left to enlist Blackwater? Let's just not even get into the question of where a maximum-security prisoner got a hold of ten million dollars in the first place. That's a lot of smokes to sell in the yard. When Management remains confident, Michael looks up at the chopper and asks him, "How many helipads in the area?" "Just the one," Management says, which tells Michael all he needs to know. "He knew where you were going to land!" Management looks up at the helicopter as though to make sure it's still there. Which, after a second, it isn't, replaced by a roaring fireball. I guess Keith was holding out on Sam and Fi after all. All three men standing below are sent sprawling as bits of helicopter rain down around them. It's into this chaotic scene that Simon walks, wearing a blue security guard's uniform with a drawn gun, and looking for all the world like the T-1000. Michael raises his bleeding head, and his vision focuses just in time to see Simon casually shoot Management's bodyguard without even looking at him. Before Michael can get up. Simon kicks him in the face (there go the sunglasses, and I'd like to know who's going to send them back to him this time) and stands on his neck. "Guess I was wrong about that 'everybody wins' thing," he drawls. Fortunately for Michael, Simon wants to gloat for a while, which gives Michael time to whip out that combat knife and stick it in Simon's leg. Good thing he wasn't unarmed after all. Michael's able to roll the wounded Simon off him and make a run for it across the rooftop, which is now a smoking debris field. He doesn't appear to spare Management a thought or a glance, which is probably wise, because after pulling the knife out of his leg, Simon starts shooting just as Michael reaches the railing and vaults over, with no time to see how far down it is until he's in the air. It looks pretty far, at least from this camera angle, and Michael lands hard with a groan of pain and lies there for a second, writhing. He should consider himself lucky not to have suffered that inside-out ankle thing that's been so rampant this season. Management gets to his feet -- with Simon's none-too-gentle help -- just as the real guards come running. With Management's body hiding his gun from them, Simon says he doesn't know what happened. "This guy's hurt, I'm gonna take him downstairs." The other guards just let them go rather than wonder who the new guard is on a day when aircraft are blowing up on top of their building.

By M. Giant

Still trapped in Michael's death grip, Simon taunts Michael for even thinking about listening to Management, and tells him to end it. By now, Michael is surrounded by armed Miami-Dade PD, shouting threats, so even if Michael still wanted to kill Simon, Management delayed him long enough so that window is now closed. So Michael drops the gun and releases Simon. "He owns you now, boy," Simon sneers. "It's just a matter of time before you're just like me." They both roll over face-down on the curb to wait for the handcuffs while Simon repeats, "Just like me." Well, that'll be a fun show.

Madeline sits in a bare interrogation room as Agent Callahan enters wearily. "I've been sitting here for hours," she complains to let us know that some time has passed. With no windows, we can't even see if it's dark outside. Callahan tells her he's not charging her with anything; in fact, he's off the case. "Where's my son?" Madeline asks. "Honestly, I have no idea," Callahan shrugs. "We had him in custody for about 20 minutes and then he was taken away." Madeline is pretty stunned at this news, not to mention at the way Callahan buried the lede. "And God only knows what hole he's in now," Callahan adds, which really can't serve any purpose other than to make Madeline feel bad.

Michael, wearing a black headbag that's at least protecting his hairdo from the pouring rain, is led through a veritable rats' maze of chain-link security gates with buzzing locks. So now we know what kind of hole he's in now. We are God!

Madeline asks Callahan if Michael just disappeared. Callahan says he might have been able to help before, "But once someone is removed from our custody, there is nothing I can do. And that is your choice." Which sounds like a lot of talk; if Madeline had turned Michael in, I'm sure he just would have been spirited away earlier in the day. Madeline rages at Callahan, smacking him across the face pretty hard a couple of times. "You hit me all you want," he says, holding her arms so she can't hit him at all. "It won't change a thing. He? Is gone."

By M. Giant

Now the focus is on Michael's handcuffs and leg irons as he's led, still blinded but now wearing black prison scrubs, up stairs and down a hallway, surrounded by huge men with guns that are almost as huge as they are. It's meant to be scary and depressing, and it is; in a few years, this is how all of us will have to board airplanes.

Callahan opens the door and tells Madeline she can go. Nice of him not to charge her with obstructing justice, or aiding and abetting, or even assaulting a federal agent. She asks him how to find Michael. For the second time, Callahan says, "I have no idea." I don't think Madeline and Callahan will ever date each other.

Michael's handcuffs are removed, then his leg irons, then the headbag. The shot is too tight at first to see where he is, and he takes his time opening his eyes so he can see, knowing full well that we're not going to get a look at his surroundings until he does. But finally he looks around, and the camera pulls back, and we finally see the "hole" he's in. It's actually a well-appointed sitting room with classic furniture and high bookshelves, and nobody else we can see. In fact, the only thing remotely threatening in here is the yellow wallpaper, and that's only if Michael reads Willa Cather. See you in the summer!

Watch this episode here, then discuss it in our forums. Then see what Jeffrey Donovan knows about Burn Notice Season 4!

M. Giant is a Minneapolis-based writer with a wife, a son, and a number of cats that seems to have settled at around two. Learn waaaay too much about him at Velcrometer, follow him on Twitter, or just e-mail him at M.Giant[at]gmail.com.

Burn Notice TV Show - Simon Says - Burn Notice Photos &amp; Videos, Burn Notice Reviews &amp; Burn Notice Recaps | TWoP

Burn Notice TV Show - Simon Says - Burn Notice Photos & Videos, Burn Notice Reviews & Burn Notice Recaps | TWoP