All language subtitles for 02Ncis.los.angeles.S02E09.LOL.English-WWW.MY-SUBS.CO

WWW.MY-SUBS.COM

(classical music plays softly)

The plane is ready when
you are, Mr. Renner.

I've loaded your luggage.

I'll be down in a few minutes.

Okay.

(music continues)

(dramatic classical music plays)

(music stops)

Forgive me, Boyle, but it's
just too early for Mahler.

Of course, sir.

(shot fires)

(tires screeching)

Boyle?

(tires screech)

No! No!

♪ NCIS: LA 2x09 ♪
Absolution
Original air date on November 16, 2010

== sync, corrected by elderman and pepelepew ==
== for www.MY-SUBS.com ==

What ya got there,
Inspector Gadget?

It's an electric
potential sensor

that can read changes
in the electric field

caused by your heartbeat.

(sensor whirring) Hmm.

72 beats per minute.

That's pretty normal.

So it's, like, a
high-tech stethoscope?

Uh, no.
Way more than that.

Okay. Everybody's
heartbeat's unique, right?

Like a finger or voice print.

Well, this sensor is strong
enough to pick up, record,

and analyze your specific

cardiac cycle from a
considerable distance.

Even through walls.

Wow. I thought
Mr. Microphone was fun.

I'm sorry. Who?

It was this toy microphone

that amplified your
voice through the radio.

Never mind.

I got a "Person of
Interest" alert.

The name "Sebastian Renner"
popped up on a police report.

Hmm. I didn't flag him.

Neither did I.

46 beats per minute?
That's incredible.

Ah, that's Tsa lung Trul khor.
Tibetan yoga.

Sebastian Renner

is a Swiss antiques dealer.

Not anymore.

He was just found murdered
near the Hollywood sign.

You'd best rally the troops.

(Sam panting)

Would it help if I sing
the theme from Rocky?

(laughs)

Where the hell have you been?

Waiting for you.

We were supposed to meet,
go for a run before work.

We were supposed to meet

at Patrick's Roadhouse
for breakfast.

If we try, we can still
get in a couple miles.

No way.

I just had pigs
in a blankets and waffles.

I'm a little bit full.

You're full of something,
and it ain't waffles.

You know what?
You get a little grumpy

when your blood sugar gets low.

Yeah, Eric?

Hetty wants everyone
in Ops... ASAP.

All right.
We're on our way.

Hey, hold on.
Let me get a towel.

For what?
This is nice leather.

(chuckles)

It's nice.

Morning, Sunshine.

You lied to me.

Not so much as a "hello"?

I even called
you "sunshine."

You said you needed a ride.
I do.

Deeks, I'm your partner,
not your chauffeur.

I thought you were
having car trouble.

Nope.

What are you doing?

Hmm?

Please tell me you didn't...

What?

Oh, my God. You're
using me as bait?

No, no, no.
Not bait. As a wingman.

This is what partners do.

Do you know how utterly
unprofessional this is?

You should tell me.

I don't... What?
Don't stop.

Keep telling me. Get mad.

Act like we're breaking up.
Get angry. Ready? Go.

Are you for real?
Partner?

(sighs)

Oh, come on!
Sunshine!

Wait!

Stay away from me.
It's over!

I can't do this anymore!

Listen, I-I'm sorry.
All right?

I know that it's tough
when I'm on the road

all the time,
touring with the band.

I don't care about that!

You-You cheated on me.

With my brother!

That's just mean.

In addition to his
antiques dealership,

Sebastian Renner was also
a known black marketer.

Eric?

(computer trilling)

The footage you're watching is
from a surveillance perimeter

around the Hollywood sign.

Police are still on the scene.

That looks like an execution.

Yeah. But they're also
looking for something.

Apparently, Renner used
his antiques dealership

as a front for brokering
some major arms deals.

He specialized in weapons,
salvaged and stolen,

following the breakup
of the Soviet Union.

Finding out who killed Renner

is secondary to finding
his little black book

of weapon buyers and sellers.

Every spook and his brother

will be looking for that intel

and we need to find it first.

What if the men who killed him
already have it?

Then we get it back.

Hold on a second.

That's it?

End of discussion?

The clock is ticking,
Mr. Callen,

and you're already late
for the party.

Any further queries
will have to wait.

Okay, Deeks and Kensi,
see what you can find out

from LAPD at the crime scene.

Sam and I will take
Renner's house.

Problem?

No. We're cool.

Yeah. You're so
the opposite of cool.

So, that's hot?

So, you think I'm hot.

That's cool.

Morning, Ray.

Guess who's here
to see you, Mr. Cole?

J. Edgar Hoover?

We don't usually get to see you
during the week, Mrs. Cole.

I thought I'd
surprise my husband.

Looks like we beat LAPD here,
but somebody else beat us.

Hetty's right.
We're late for the party.

Huh.

Mouton Rothschild Pauillac.

Very fine.
Very rare.

(inhales)

Very expensive.

Maybe Renner was celebrating.

Maybe Sebastian Renner

knew his time was running short,

and he wanted
to enjoy it while he could.

What's missing
from this picture?

SAM:
Printer, scanner, cables...

No computer.

Speaking of missing pictures...

Renner had no family...

these must all be
friends or associates.

Who was in this one?

This guy's in a lot of 'em.

Probably a pretty
good place to start.

(keypad beeping)

ERIC:
Yo.

Eric, Callen's sending
you some photographs.

Need to identify the players.

Concentrate on
the guy in his 30s

who appears the most.

ERIC:
Got it.
(rustling)

Federal agents!

Come out with your hands up.

(dog growling)

Hey, boys.
How you doing?

(barking)
CALLEN: Easy.

Easy.

You're good doggies,
aren't you?

Yes, you are.

(dogs barking)

How those waffles
feeling right about now?

Ha. You know what's
really funny?

Your car's still in there.

What's all this?

Sebastian Renner's
personal effects.

LAPD was more than happy
to hand the case over.

Two less homicides for
them to worry about.

No cell phone or laptop?

Well, if he had either, the
killers must have grabbed them.

All right.
I'll see what I can find

in terms of phone, Internet,

and travel records.

Who's this with Renner?

That's Sander Lee.

Callen and Sam found his photo
all over Renner's house.

He's an interior
designer here in L.A.

He's got a store in the
Pacific Design Center.

Could be a client.

Or something
a little more significant.

Call Callen.

Let him know what you found.

Where's Hetty?

Uh, she left

right after this
morning's briefing.

She didn't say
where she was going.

HETTY:
"They wrenched

"the flag furiously
from the dead man,

"and as they turned again,

"the corpse swayed
forward with bowed head.

"One arm swung high,

"and the curved hand
fell with heavy protest

on the friend's
unheeding shoulder."

Sebastian Renner passed
away this morning.

Do you remember him?

He was an antique dealer.

Among other things.

I believe you had dealings
with him in the past.

Did I?

Yes.

I don't remember.

He helped smuggle you

into this country.

In exchange
for a book you gave him.

A book in which you'd recorded

information about your past.

I told you, I don't remember.

Well, Renner's dead.

He was murdered.

You could be next...

if they were to find you.

I would prefer death over this.

That should come

as no surprise to you, Sylvia.

No.

What surprises me is

that you haven't asked
who killed Renner or why.

Perhaps I don't care.

Or perhaps you
know who killed him,

and perhaps
you remember a lot more

than you're telling me.

I am tired
of being your prisoner!

Enough!

(shouting in German)

It's okay, Mr. Cole.

Just try and relax.

I'm sorry.

Oh, it's quite all right.

He gets...
frustrated sometimes.

Yes.

Perhaps it's best if you go
back in and rest, dear.

I'll come back later.

Gartenzwerg.

CALLEN:
Place is enormous.

One point two
million square feet.

You've never been to the
Pacific Design Center?

Look who I'm asking.

Of course you've
never been here.

That's a nice chair.

What do you know?

You don't own any furniture.

Well, maybe it's time
I get a chair.

(laughs) Yeah?

(clears throat)

$3,700.

I don't need a chair.

Sander Lee Design.

This is it through here.

MAN: How much did
you give him?

MAN 2:
The usual.

He must have had a reaction.

MAN:
Pulse is weak.

Federal Agents!

Go! Go! Quickly!

He's got a pulse,
but it's thready.

Stay with him.

Drop the gun!

Drop it! Now!

Okay. Okay.

Did you get them?

One of 'em got away.

Other one needs an ambulance.

He gonna make it?

What's the word on Sander Lee?

The guy's in critical condition.

Would have been dead
if it hadn't been for Sam

keeping him alive
until the paramedics got there.

He's not out of the woods yet.

Doctors say they pumped him
full of a narco-synthetic.

A truth serum?
Yeah.

They must have thought he knew
where Renner's black book was.

This little black book
of Renner's must be

one hell of a read,
if they're willing

to keep killing people
to get it.

You find anything?

Yeah.

I talked to Sander's parents.

They're flying in from Phoenix
to be with him.

They did confirm that he'd been
in a relationship

with Sebastian Renner
for the past several years.

Eric, what have you got?

I managed to I.D.
The two men from Sander Lee's.

The dead guy is Dars Talbert.

The guy you wounded and captured
is one Frederick Harbin.

They're both in the country
as agricultural attachés,

but are suspected of being
Bundesnachrichtendienst.

Gesundheit.

BND is the German Federal
Intelligence Service.

AKA spies.

This just became
an international incident.

You know, there is a
bright side to this.

If these guys were
interrogating Sander Lee,

it suggests they're still
looking for something.

KENSI:
He's right.

Maybe they didn't find Sebastian
Renner's little black book.

Then again, they are Germans.

They could be just
getting their kink on.

I'm half German.

I can see that.

Director Vance is on the phone.

Where the hell is Hetty?

I'm right here.

Let me deal with the director.

I'll meet you in Ops
in ten minutes.

Eric, access a file
that's called "Dinner Party 76."

The password is.

Haruspex 77981.

"Dinner 76"
mean anything to you?

Not a clue.

It's buried

in a bunch
of administration folders.

What's that password code?

Haruspex 77981.

NELL:
In ancient Rome,

a Haruspex was someone who
could predict the future

by reading the entrails
of sacrificed sheep.

You don't think that Hetty...?

NELL:
Okay.

Here it is.

It's a surveillance folder
on Bernstrom Kohl.

CALLEN:
Bernstrom Kohl.

Guy was Staatssicherheit.

Gesundheit.

Just wait for it.

Rule of threes.

Third one's gonna be hilarious,
I promise you.

SAM:
STASI were

the East German Secret Police
during the Cold War.

Cold War ended 20 years ago.

Seems to me
like it's heating up again.

Bernstrom Kohl
was a rising star

in the former Soviet Republic,

before running into some
trouble with his superiors.

Apparently, he had a little
black book on some of his

fellow STASI operatives,

as well as foreign agents
from numerous countries.

The little black book Sebastian
Renner ostensibly possessed.

Kohl allegedly had evidence

of some of the more infamous,
albeit secret,

operations of the KGB,
the U.S. and Israel,

including assassinations.

That's one hell
of a dinner party.

So why would Hetty tell us
this book has a list

of arms dealers?
(door opens)

Because the actual specifics
of the book

are way beyond all
of our pay grades,

Ms. Blye.

Where did Renner get the book?

Bernstrom Kohl
traded the information

to our friend Renner
for safe passage to the West.

Renner kept the book as a sort
of get-out-of-jail-free card.

Nobody wanted to risk that
information leaking out,

so they left him alone.

So why did the Germans
whack him now?

Ah, one never knows
with the Germans.

(scoffs) Right.

Come on, guys.
I'm right here.

Apologies, Herr Beale.

Danke.

Where's Bernstrom Kohl now?

He's been living in this country

for several years
under the name Branston Cole.

C-O-L-E.

He had a stroke a while back

which left him crippled
and legally blind.

It may have contributed
to early onset Alzheimer's,

but that's debatable.

He's waiting in the boatshed.

Question Cole,

see if you can get
anything useful out of him.

Oh, I had

animal control move the dogs

from Renner's property.

Perhaps Ms. Blye and Mr. Deeks
can have a more thorough search.

Absolutely.

Done.

Hetty?

Do you have some sort of
plan you want to share?

Yes. My plan is to prevent an
onslaught of foreign operatives

from tearing this town apart
looking for that book.

I suggest you and your team
do the same thing.

This place looks more like
a museum than a house.

How can you even relax
in a place like this?

You don't like antiques?

Antique is just a fancy
word for secondhand goods.

Why on earth would
I want something

that somebody else had?

We're not talking
about a toothbrush.

I mean, look around.
You don't find

craftsmanship like this anymore.

Some of this stuff
is probably worth a fortune.

Reason number two.

Why would I want a coffee table
I can't put my boots on,

or have to worry
about my beer leaving a ring?

You are a classy chick.

I'm classy.

You're more sassy than classy.

Oh, and those yoga bunnies

you were perving on before...
they're classy?

It's really hard
when I'm on the road

all the time touring...
with the band.

(gags)

Like I said, classy.

Whoa.

Check this out.

It's an application
for a clinical trial

at UCLA Johnson's
Comprehensive Cancer Center.

Renner had cancer?

I don't know.
If he did, it wasn't good.

This trial involves placing
experimental chemotherapy wafers

into the brain
after the removal

of a metastatic tumor.

Brain cancer.

Might explain why the Germans
came after Renner now.

If they learned that he was
dying, maybe they were afraid

that he was going
to unload the book.

Well, selling it would provide
his companion Sander Lee

with a pretty nice nest egg.

Well, he's already got
a nice little nest egg here.

Maybe Renner was planning
on getting rid of it

so that no one would come after
Sander Lee looking for it.

Well, if so, he waited too long.

(thudding)

I thought Hetty said
the dogs were gone.

Dogs don't wear shoes.
Well, that's not

necessarily true. You ever seen
those little dog booties?

Shh. Shh.
Get little bells on 'em.

- Federal agents! Don't move!
- LAPD!

NSA!
NCIS!

M-O-U-S-E.

What are you doing here?

This is our case.

Sebastian Renner was
a foreign national

with information
considered a threat

to the United
States of America.

Still our case.

We don't have to
be adversaries.

After all, we are
on the same side.

Perhaps we could work together.

Have you found anything
that might be...

(groans) Whoa!

What are you doing?

You heard the guy.
We're on the same side.

I'm pretty sure he's not NSA.
Pretty sure?

'Cause you teed off on him like
you were kicking a field goal.

Deeks, I got a hunch they're
foreign operatives, okay?

A hunch?

You don't kick
a guy in his junk on a hunch.

Geez.

Sometimes I don't even know you.

Who does that?

This place smells
like fish and gasoline.

I can hear the water
underneath me.

Where the hell am I,
a boat house?

Something like that.

Budget cuts,

or are you planning
on chopping me up into chum?

We'd just like to ask you
a few questions, Mr. Cole.

You were an East German agent?

Was I?

I don't remember things.

Tell us what you do remember.

I remember...

San Francisco.

November 22, 1989.

Smelled just like this.

But it was cold and drizzly.

Last day I had eyesight
and the sun wasn't even shining.

Was that when you
had your stroke?

My stroke was caused by blood
loss from two bullet holes,

compliments
of an American operative.

You were fortunate to survive.

(laughs)

Was I?

Why don't you tell us
about Sebastian Renner.

He was an antiques dealer.

SAM:
Was?

He's dead, isn't he?

Supposedly, he has
a book of yours.

I don't remember any book.

Sorry.

You were told Sebastian Renner
died this morning.

Usually, Alzheimer's patients
have more of a problem

with short-term memory.

I am not a doctor.

No, you were a spy.

I was a lot of things.

Now, I am just this.

You want my help?

So be it.

We make a trade.

I tell you
what you need to know

and, in exchange,

Sylvia finishes
what she started.

Sylvia?

Vicious pixie
owes me that much.

Sylvia is one of
Hetty's aliases.

Hmm. Seems like
there's a lot

of old school cloak and dagger
stuff going on here

that we're not
being told about.

(door opens)

How'd you make out?

Did you take anything new
away from Renner's?

Yes. These two guys.

These jokers waltzed in

while we were there,
tried to pass themselves off

as NSA agents,

but they're DGSE.

French Intelligence Agency.

How'd you know they were bogus?

Their accents.

They didn't have accents.

Do you know the difference

between French
open syllabic organization

and English trochaic
speech patterning, Deeks?

That old chestnut?

CALLEN:
Hetty was right.

They're coming
out of the woodwork.

Where are they now?

Had my LAPD buddies
lock 'em up downtown

for a few hours.

You know? Give them a
taste of the real L.A.

That's not in the star tours.

They probably have
diplomatic immunity.

That's exactly why
we put 'em in county.

I mean, they're gonna be
lucky if they get

to make a phone call
by Christmas.

Hmm.
Just, uh,

don't let Kensi
interrogate them.

Why's that?

'Cause the guy on the right?

She kicked him
in the nom de plumes.

No.

Guy didn't even
have his weapon out.

Really?

Eh...

Mm-hmm. Right in
the cul-de-sac.

Kicked him so hard it
gave me a stomachache.

So what?
It would have been better

if I'd pistol-whipped him
across the face?

MEN:
Yes!

What is with you guys
and-and your...

Really, it's not...

It's not all that, trust me.

Did you guys manage
to get anything out of Cole?

Not so much.

He's playing us.

He may not be the only one.

What do you mean?
(auto-dial beeps)

ERIC: Yo.
Eric, I need to talk to Hetty.

She left again.
How long ago?

Uh, about an hour ago.

She say where she was going?

No. When I asked, she stared me
down like a mongoose.

(door closes)

(gun cocking)

Bugger.

And don't tell me you're here

'cause you wanted your
chair reupholstered.

That was very foolish of you,
Mr. Callen.

You came dangerously close
to having your head blown off.

You're lucky I caught a whiff

of your partner's
baby fresh scent.

You and I need to talk.

Shall we start
with Branston Cole?

Not unless he told you
something useful.

Well, it was as much
what he didn't tell me.

(trilling and beeping)

It was you.

I'm sorry?

You shot him.

It was your wounds that
led to his stroke.

Which also suggests it was
you that kept him from dying.

That is quite a theory,
Mr. Callen.

You put him into an
assisted living facility

as your husband,
under a new name,

so you could keep working
him for information.

Only it's difficult, sometimes,

to tell when it's
his Alzheimer's,

and when he's just playing you.

Tell me if I'm wrong.

He's a stubborn old bastard.

But I'm patient.

Occasionally, he trips up,
and I get him.

(chuckles)

If I didn't know any better,

I'd say that you two
enjoy the game.

Maybe even each other's company.

Now you're straying into
fantasy, Mr. Callen.

Cole is an asset from
the past, nothing more.

You read to him every week,
for years.

It's a cover.

And it's wearing thin.

He's become more and
more withdrawn lately.

As his physical
condition worsens,

so does his spirit.

He's willing to cooperate.

(chuckles)

If you agree to finish
what you've started.

Oh... (sighs)

He's asked you before?

About a year ago.

Taking a life in the line
of duty is one thing.

Hell, I've already shot him.

Twice.

I'm not a murderer,
Mr. Callen.

But I may be a hypocrite.

Cole's fate is now in the hands

of someone far greater than I.

I didn't think there
was such a person.

What about this little
black book of secrets?

I don't think he knows
what Renner did with it.

Is it really as valuable
as everyone thinks?

From what I know,

it could permanently damage
international relationships

and jeopardize our country's
political security.

Such as what?

Sanctioned assassinations?

Use your imagination.

Are you in the book?

The longer one stays in
this business, Mr. Callen,

the more one's closet
resembles an ossuary.

Mine, I'm afraid, is beginning

to look like the
Paris catacombs.

Speaking of closets,

did you find anything before
you ducked into Sander Lee's?

NELL:
I found something!

I'm sorry.

I didn't mean to interrupt.
I could just...

No, no, tell us
what you discovered, Nell.

Well, I was going
through the manuscripts,

thinking that maybe there's
something hidden in them.

It took me a while to even
figure out what they were,

because they're written
in Boustrophedon.

Back and forth, like
plowing a field.

Exactly.
Very old school.

Uh, Ms. Jones, to the point.

Right.
Well, the manuscript's legit.

It's not the book.
It's the bookmark.

Eric.

It's sterling silver
and very rare. See?

It has a magnifying
glass compartment

which contains
a miniature dictionary.

It was a very clever novelty
item back in Victorian England.

That's when Eric
and I started talking

about Sherlock Holmes

and vintage cloak
and dagger stuff.

And, anyway,
it was Eric who found it.

It was the punctuation
that was the tip-off.

There's just too much of it.

And that's when our
conversation started me thinking

about Cold War spycraft,
and then it hit me.

Microdots.
Exactly!

Renner was using
old-school techniques

to hide his assets
in plain sight.

It was easily overlooked
by everyone.

I managed to enlarge
one of the microdots.

So we found it?

Yes and no.

I'm still analyzing this,
but, for the most part,

it just seems like a lot of
outdated Cold War information,

the value of which
is suspect at best.

But it could mean that the
information we're looking for

is hidden in a similar manner.

You see how many books
were in Renner's place?

It could take years
to look through them all

for microdots.

It's like picking fly...

Yes, Mr. Hanna, it would
be labor-intensive,

to say the very least.

But we have to do something.

Washington is having
a conniption fit

over the number
of foreign operatives

who've descended on our city.

What if we put word
out on the street

that Cole's book had been found
and it's up for sale?

We could use some
of what we found

as proof to help smoke out
the foreign operatives

that have infiltrated the city.

Sounds like a plan.

Let's do it.

I put it out to the Koreans
and the Armenians

that the book is for sale.

You speak to your buddy Arkady?

He might be helpful
in spreading the word.

(sniffles)

What is it?

It's Hetty.

What about her?

Something's not right.

I'll be right back.

What's going on?

Not sure.

Nell, have you seen Hetty?

She was in her office.

Eric?!

Yeah?

Hetty up there?
Yeah, she was...

I'm sorry.
She's like a ninja.

(laughs)

Mattias.

Herta.

I'd hoped you'd find my note.

You look well.

Well enough, as do you.

Too much sun,

too much wine, too much food.

(laughs)

But I didn't
expect either one of us

to live this long,
so who cares?

If you hand over your weapons,

it would spare us both
the vulgarity

of having me search you.

That's it these days.

And even then, it's mostly
for the common street thug.

(laughs) Please, sit.

Thank you.

(sighs)

It's a shame, isn't it?

So much crime and corruption.

Whatever happened to
honor among thieves, huh?

Or respect for one's elders,
let alone one's enemies.

Chivalry.

Indeed.

Do you ever come here?

Occasionally.

Reminds me
of the first time we met.

Vienna, the Volksoper Wien.

I missed the second act
of Die Landstreicher

because of you.

I wish you'd stayed.

Of course you still would have
missed the second act.

I don't have the book, Mattias.

I don't even care anymore.

To be honest,
I'm beginning to think

it's nothing more than a legend.

No, I don't want the book.

I want Cole.

He's dead.

(scoffs) Herta.

I shot him myself.

That much is true,
but our agents confirmed

that he survived his run-in
with the gartenzwerg...

With you.

Cole was most fortunate.

I know only too well
that most aren't.

Present company excepted.

You must know then that
I won't tell you anything.

I would never insult you
by suggesting you would.

I'm confident, however,

that you are worth
far more to your people

than a crippled,
old, blind man.

Which is why I am certain

they will be willing
to trade him for you.

(sighs)

I apologize for the
distastefulness of it all,

but we should get going.

I'm not going anywhere.

You're just going
to have to shoot me

right here.

Herta, I could kiss
you right now,

if I wasn't afraid you would

gouge out both my eyes

and bite through my windpipe
if I got close enough.

The fact that you're
so damn defiant,

especially knowing
what I'm capable of.

You truly are the last
of a dying breed.

We both are, Mattias.

We are, aren't we?

It's not just
my Kodachrome nostalgia

for a simpler time?

The world has changed...

and our business has changed.

And I for one,

have seen enough bloodshed

in the name of king and country.

Let me appeal to you,

as one Cold War survivor
to another.

What is Kohl to you?

No one cares about a
crippled, blind traitor.

Surely you haven't developed
feelings for the old man?

You know, he's the one who gave
you the nickname Gartenzwerg.

(laughs)

Sticks and stones...

Unfortunately,
we are now talking guns...

and knives.

You're just as valuable
to me dead, my dear.

I send your people an ear,
maybe a finger,

they'll hand over Kohl
before your corpse is cold.

Why now?

Who cares about the incoherent
babblings of an old man?

Some wounds last a lifetime.

Treason is one of them.

I'm sorry, Herta.

I find it hard
to even do this myself.

But in the end,
we all die alone.

One more step,

and she's dead.

Don't listen to him.

I already told him to shoot me,
and I'm still here.

Clear.

Clear.
Clear.

I guess that's the difference
between us, Mattias.

Despite my best efforts

to keep these ones
at arms' length...

I'm not in this alone.

Schweinepriester.

Gesundheit.

Nicely played.

So, the FBI and the real NSA
have been brought up to speed,

along with the other agencies.

Hopefully, we'll be able
to round up the rest

of the foreign operatives
still lurking around town.

What's going to
happen to Mattias?

Well, if he's lucky, he'll
be sent back to Germany

in some face-saving
spy trade.

Along with Kensi's
French boyfriends.

What about this missing book?

If it's hidden
among Renner's manuscripts

or in his library, it'll
take a while to find it.

Nevertheless,
it was a job well done.

National Security

is a marathon,

not a sprint.

I suggest you all get some rest.

The game begins anew

tomorrow.

DEEKS:
Well,

I don't know about you guys,
but I could use a drink.

You'd be better off
getting a good night's sleep.

Don't let alcohol become
your chosen form

of stress management.

I'm not stressed, man,
but I'm buying.

Then I'm in.
Me, too.

KENSI: Nell, that means
you got to come, too.

I can't be the only woman
in this group.

Really?

Okay.

SAM: Looks like
you're the designated

driver, G.

Nice.

Well, if that's the case,
I'm gonna check with Hetty

and see if she wants to make
this the Magnificent Seven.

I'm all right, Mr. Callen.

Thank you for not asking.

Just wanted to see if you want
to join us for a drink.

I'm driving.

A more generous, inviting offer
I can't imagine,

but I have plans.

Hetty, you're kidding me.

You almost getting killed

today... that doesn't merit

a celebratory cocktail
with your rescuers?

I have a previous commitment.

Forgive me if I'm, uh, hesitant

to let you out of my sight.

If you must know,

I'm going to see Branston Cole.

Which means what exactly?

I'm not certain myself.

But it's something
I have to do alone this time.

And I'm confident

that you'll respect my wishes
to do so.

Good night... Mr. Callen.

(gentle theme playing)

(quiet gasp)

== sync, corrected by elderman and pepelepew ==
== for www.MY-SUBS.com ==