All language subtitles for 02Ncis.los.angeles.S02E13.LOL.English-WWW.MY-SUBS.CO(1)

WWW.MY-SUBS.COM

Sorry.

Which way?

That one.

Excuse me. I need
to see your pass.

Shut up. Close the door.

GUNMAN 1:
Listen up.

Stay in your seats,

stay calm,

and please don't move.

Anybody tries to text

or make a phone call,
they're dead.

Now...

which one of you
is Matt Driscoll?

Show yourself, Driscoll,

or we kill everyone
on this damn bus.

Get up!

Wait! Wait.

I'm Matt Driscoll.

* NCIS: LA 2x13 *
Archangel
Original air date on January 18, 2011>

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

Move it,
Mr. Callen.

I got more body mass
to move than you.

You got a lot more excuses, too.

Use your legs, not your arms.

I know how to climb.

Doesn't look like it.

From here, I can see
your arms shaking.

Ignore her.

She's trying to psych you out...

again.

Careful...

Mr. Callen.

One small slip,
and you'll drop 1,000 feet

to the jagged rocks below,

splitting your head open
like a pumpkin.

Where's Hetty?

I'm up here, dear.

Uh...

Director Vance
is on the phone for you.

You leave the wall, you forfeit.

Tell the director that, uh,

he needs to wait
the extra 30 seconds

for Mr. Callen to fall.

Don't let her
get in your head, G.

Director says it's urgent,

and also to tell you,
"Archangel."

Oh, bugger.

All right.

Meet us in the bullpen.
Uh-huh.

You won. Come on.

You know, it's a lot faster
going up

than it is coming down,
all right, big guy?

Just let go.

You gonna catch me?
You're kidding, right?

No. You have a mat.
You'll be fine. Come on.

I'm letting go.

I think I'm gonna
need some ice.

So what's the word?

Waiting on Hetty.

Nell... what do you know?

"Archangel"
is the Pentagon's code alert

for a major security breach.

The Office
of Naval Intelligence

has discovered
someone's uploaded a file

containing thousands of
classified Pentagon documents

pertaining to the war
in Afghanistan.

Where's Mr. Callen?

He's icing.

Uploaded where?

We don't know yet.

Was it a hack or an inside job?

We don't know that, either.

So... what do we know?

We know it'll be a bloody mess

if it goes public.

Embarrassing to our government,
valuable to our enemies,

dangerous to our military.

I got something.

I've been working
with the Pentagon.

Might have a lead on a leak.

Maybe not who took it,

but I've got the IP address
of the person

that received the uploaded file.

IP is owned by Ray Crossen.

Good news is, he's local...
lives in Santa Monica.

What's the bad news, Mr. Beal?

He has his own popular weblog,

specializing
in governmental exposés.

He's a bit of a recluse.

Likes to keep
his identity secret.

Has he posted the file
onto his site yet?

Not yet.
Can you shut down his server?

His server, his cell service,
his electricity... you name it.

Can you get me free cable?

No, because that
would be piracy.

Shut him down, Mr. Beal.

Mr. Hanna, Santa Monica.

And take your gravitationally
challenged partner with you.

Another day in paradise.

Got to love
that fresh ocean air.

You mean the smell of fish?

It's one of the reasons
I moved away from here.

We come from the ocean, G.

It's Mother Nature's womb.

It's true.

It's the primordial
soup of life.

Stop with the New Age stuff.
You know that freaks me out.

Next thing I know, you'll be
rubbing me with crystals.

You alienate yourself

from the cycles of the Earth.

It's not good.

That's probably why
you can't sleep.

Your circadian rhythm's
all messed up.

Are you saying I don't
have any rhythm?

Don't make me break out my
Running Man on you again.

Last time you unleashed
your Running Man,

people thought you
were having a seizure.

How we going to do this?

Where's the fun in that?

Federal agents!

Mr. Crossen?

Got a body.

It's Crossen.

Place is clear.

I'm guessing they

waterboarded him,

then drowned him
when they were done.

Here we go.

That's our missing file.

It's worthless without
the decryption key.

Yeah.
Eric.

Ray Crossen is dead.

Look, we got a computer here.
Looks like it might be

the classified
Pentagon file on it.

We should have
access to it... now.

Uh, got it.

Can you open it?

I'm trying.

You okay?

I'm okay.

You don't look okay.

I just don't understand
why someone would do this.

Betray their own.

A lot of different reasons,
according to Nate.

None of them good.

Callen, this is

seriously encrypted.

All right, well, how long
until you can crack it?

Anywhere between an hour

and... never.
I honestly don't know.

Can you tell
if anyone's opened it?

Oh... somebody's been trying.

32 attempts, to be exact,
all of them failed.

But... they did make a copy
onto a flash drive.

Not good.
Got it.

They copied it.

Got to assume Crossen
didn't know the decryption key.

But whoever sent him
the stolen Pentagon file does.

They're next.

Mr. Callen.

I just got off the phone
with Director Vance.

He's on his way to brief SECNAV,

who in turn has

an appointment
with the president.

You know what that means,
don't you?

Heads are going to roll.

It's that other end

of one's anatomy
I'm worried about.

The ass chewing

gets worse on the way
back down the ladder.

What does that mean?
You're next?

No.

Because you're going
to resolve this

before that happens.

I will do my best
to protect your ass...

sets.

Crossen's server and laptop
have drawn a blank.

Compartmentalized encryption,

multiple proxies,
and if he had an e-mail list,

it was in his head.

But... what we do have

are his loyal followers

who log onto
his Web site regularly

to read the latest doom.

Now, I figure whoever uploaded

the classified files
to his Web site

was probably
a frequent visitor.

How many frequent visitors?

Over 700.

So, I filtered them

through Nell's data analysis.

We've been anatomizing
the type of documents

that might have been accessed
from the Pentagon.

Now, we can eliminate anyone

without the security clearance.

And by cross-referencing

Eric's information,
we were able

to track it to one
standout candidate.

The admin department
of one Shaktorn Defense Systems.

They uploaded it to Crossen.

It's a defense contractor
that works for the Navy.

We got a name?
Not yet.

They run their own
internal network

through a secure system,

so we can't tell which computer was used.
Whoever it was

uploaded the file to Crossen.

Crossen hadn't posted it
onto his Web site yet

because they didn't give him
a decryption key.

So they're anxiously waiting.

We send a message from Crossen

to every computer

in the admin department.

Tell them Crossen needs to meet

to discuss
an important development.

Flush out the real culprit.

Sounds like a plan.

How did they know?

How did who know?

Team that's after
this decryption key.

The guys who killed Crossen.

How did they know
the file was coming?

One answer at a time.

If I drink
another espresso,

somebody's going to have
to bring me some Rolaids.

I told you to switch to decaf.

CALLEN
Kensi, you see anything?

No.

This is awesome.

What are you looking for?

I'm looking
for something to eat.

Well, that's a
glove compartment,

not a refrigerator.

Yeah, like you don't stash
your Ho Hos in here?

All right, come on, lady.

Don't hold out on me,
'cause I am starving.

I don't have anything.
Yes, you do.

I don't have anything.

How come I smell...

Peanut r at?

Yeah. Peanut butter,
chocolate... I smell it.

Where is it?
No.

No.

You know why you smell them?

Because...
Because...

I left one on the seat,
and it... melted.

Many, many, many months ago.

Hmm, So why do we smell it now?

Hmm?

Got an anxious brunette
coming up on Callen.

She's clocking him.

Got her.

You Ray Crossen?

Sorry.

Hey.

Hi, have a seat.
You must be...

Jenny.

It's nice to finally
meet you, Jenny.

What did you need to talk about?

I just want to ask you
some questions.

You know, my blog's
important to me.

I feel like what I do
has an impact on others.

I agree.

Then you agree
that it's important

for people to know the truth?

Like you say on the Web site,
"True freedom only comes

through the transparency
of our government."

Exactly.

My blog is my reputation.

Which is why I need to know
where you got that file from,

and what's in it exactly.

I can't do that.

I won't publish any names.

I just want to make sure
it's the real deal.

Trust me. It is.

But I have to protect my source.

Head's up. I think

Jenny brought company.
Callen, check

the couple behind you.

Got 'em.

There's another one coming
in the opposite direction.

They're boxing them in.

Let's go.

Hearing this, Sam?

I hear what you're saying.

Get ready to move.

Hey.

We need to move now. You're in danger.
What are you doing?

- You expect me to say something?
- How about, "Excuse me"?

You bumped into me.

Oh, really?!
Is that it?

Get the hell out of my way.

Oh, you're one
of those guys, huh?

You think you own
the sidewalk.

I bet you do the same thing on the
freeway; you think you own that, too.

Like maybe you got
to get home a little faster

than everybody else,
is that it?

Let's go.

In your big, fat
European sports car?

Hey. I'm talking to you.

Who are you?

Did you lose somebody?

I hate when that happens.

I wouldn't do that,
if I were you.

Morning.

You're making a big mistake.

That's actually my line.

You prepared to shoot three
FBI agents in broad daylight?

May I?

Left hand.

You looking for this?

Oh, buddy.

That badge better be real,

or my partner is going
to kick you in the FBI balls.

Is that what you call
surveillance?

Uh, we sure as hell
surveilled your FBI asses.

You're interfering with
a federal investigation.

Uh, our investigation,
actually.

We've been working
this case for months.

Then, it's clearly time
for us to take over.

You wouldn't
have even known

there was a leak
if Naval Intelligence

hadn't discovered it.

Isn't that an oxymoron?

No.

But there is a moron
in all this.

Several, in fact.

Oh, snap.

What? Point: Kensi.

FBI serves.

You've overstepped
your jurisdiction.

We're the senior agency here.

Good point.

But... it's best to be sure
about a thing like that.

I'll get Hetty in on this.

Hetty.

As in Henrietta Lange?

Hetty, this is Callen.
We got a situation. You know her?

We've heard stories.
Sounds like a whole lot

of urban legend, if you ask me.

Au contraire, mon frère.
She's real.

And you do not want

that little chupacabra
surveilling your asses.

She wants to talk to you.

This is Agent Frisbee.

Landon Archibald Frisbee,

born in Hackensack, New Jersey.

Agent Landon Archibald Frisbee,

from Hackensack?
Yes.

His wife's name's Darlene.

How's your wife, Darlene?
She's fine.

Lots of late-night phone calls
to this woman...

uh, Heather Teasdale.

She's a recent divorcée,

works in the same
federal building.

How's Heather?

Heather?

Teasdale.

Oh, no.

Oh, was that a secret?
I'm so sorry.

I think we can both agree,

Agent Frisbee, that this is
a matter of national security.

It's "Freeze-be."

I would hate to have

to call Bobby
and complain to him

about your reluctance
to collaborate with us on such

a serious matter.
Bobby?

Your director!

I don't, um...

think that'll be necessary.

Oh, I'm so glad to hear that.

Have a wonderful day...
Agent Frisbee.

It's Freeze...

Is everything okay?

Tell them.

We were tasked
to investigate a series of...

low-level leaks
here in Los Angeles.

Our investigation has been
focusing on a petty officer.

We know he had a partner,
but we didn't know who it was...

until today.

The woman who met Sam.

And her name is...

Jennifer Waincroft.

She's an admin manager at...

Shaktorn Defense Systems.

Your turn.

Where is she?

I have no idea.

Are you going to arrest me?

Depends on what you've done.

And what can be undone.

How long do we have
to stay up here?

Until it's safe
enough to leave.

Or till you tell me
what you know.

And what makes you
think I need your help?

Because I'm pretty sure
you don't want to end up

like the guy you came to see.

Ray Crossen.

Who did that?

That's what I'm trying
to find out.

My boyfriend's in the Navy.

He compiled operational

and after-battle reports.

First in Iraq,
more recently in Afghanistan.

After a while,

it started to get to him.

Get to him how?

It wore him down.

Day after day,
reading the reports,

compiling casualty lists...

feeling helpless to do anything.

He's a petty officer with
top-level security clearance.

At some point,
our petty officer

went from believer
to an observer.

From patriot to traitor.

He started stealing
classified documents?

He asked me to leak material
onto the Internet.

He just wanted someone

to listen.

And you agreed.

I just wanted to help him
get through this.

What started out as
some rather benign statistics

eventually ballooned
into a full-scale breach

of very... sensitive material.

What kind of material?

We don't know exactly.

He logged into a database
that contained information

about past operations in Iraq

and ongoing operations
in Afghanistan,

including black ops.

Your boyfriend's trying

to affect change

by shaming the government
into changing its policy.

What's your boyfriend's name,
Jenny?

We can't reveal that.

And you haven't
brought him in?

Oh, we know where he is
every second.

I thought we were cooperating.

I think we've told you enough.

Hetty is not going to like that.

That's probably her now.

Yeah.

Her boyfriend's name

is Matt Driscoll.

Petty Officer Matt Driscoll.

I'm sending an address.
Got it.

So?

So, I think we're good.

Thank you for sharing.

We'll be sure to let you know
if we find anything, and...

I hope you'll do
the same for us.

Of course.

Oh, and, uh...

We don't validate,
just in case you're wondering.

Oh, and uh...

be sure to try the churros
around the corner.

They're awesome.

Jenny's boyfriend

is Petty Officer Matt Driscoll.

Lives in Silver Lake.
I e-mailed you the address.

We are on it.

Eric.

Yeah.
Gonna need everything we've got

on Petty Officer Matt Driscoll.

Matt's a good man.

Good men don't steal
national secrets.

Matt's not a traitor,
Agent Hanna.

He just wants someone
who'll listen.

He took an oath
when he joined the Navy.

I know... and so does he.

He is so torn up about doing
this, I swear. He just...

didn't know what else to do.

Promise me you won't hurt him.

I'm trying to help him.

But he has to let us.

Call him.

Tell him to go home and wait.

Tell him we're coming.

Like the way you handled
that FBI agent.

Can you believe her attitude?

Should have thrown
down with her.

Why, so you could
watch us cat-fight?

What?

No... Wait. Maybe.

What about a pillow
fight in lingerie?

See? Now you're

just teasing me.

Someone's inside.

Driscoll?

Didn't get a good look.

I'll cover the back.

Take the front.

Oh... Kensi?

Petty Officer Matt Driscoll?

Yeah.

NCIS.

They got weapons! Get down!

More company.

Six is clear.
Okay.

Go!

You okay?

Yeah. You?

Yeah.

Uh-huh. Got it.

Okay.

Oh, my God.

Stay here.

Driscoll?

He came, he saw, he fled.

Pickup.
Eric's putting out a BOLO.

Two down, two got away.

Cashed up. No I.D.

They were inside
waiting for him.

How's our girl?

On edge.

Go.

Putting you on speaker, Sam.

Two shooters at Driscoll's house
were both contract soldiers.

Travis Dale Donovan,
former British Army,

and Peter Van Hoost,

former South African
National Defense Force.

Mercenaries.

Arrived in the country
on tourist visas

three weeks ago.

Multiple entries into the U.S.,

Europe, Asia and Africa
over the past 18 months.

These guys get around.
Who do they get around with?

Known associates...

Jans Christian Kemp,

former captain in the old
South African Defense Force.

Kemp runs
a private security firm

based in Amsterdam.

Boasts he has connections on
all levels of U.S. government.

And then there's...
Bradford Harris Elgin,

former Army Ranger from Ohio.

Cashed out 12 years ago.

Bet they all flew in
on the same flight.

Send the photos
to Kensi and Deeks to I.D.

Eric, see if you can track

Driscoll using his cell phone.

Sam, what are you thinking?

Thinking classified intel's
not worth much

on the black market
if everybody

with a computer can
download it on the internet.

They need that decryption key.

They need Driscoll.

FBI still claiming they don't
know what's in the file?

Yep.

You believe them?
It's possible.

The only one
who can answer that is...

Him again.

Popular guy.

Not with everyone.

That is one of the guys.

Yeah. There's
your other one.

Driscoll's downtown somewhere.
I can't pinpoint him.

He turned off his GPS.

Driscoll answered
last time Jenny called.

Yeah.

Last time he did what she asked,

he ended up almost
getting killed.

Will you call Matt again?

Leave your number.
I'll get back to you.

Matt, it's Jenny.

Call me as soon as you get this.

Where would he go
if he was scared?

My place.

Who are they?

FBI.

What do they want?

You.

Agent Frisbee.

Hey, buddy.
Missed the shootout.

Well, thanks for taking care
of our suspect.

We'll take it from here.

I'm sorry. I can't do that.

I just arrested her.

How long will that
process take, Agent Blye?

48 hours.

Shocking,

isn't it?

Please.

Find him.

This way.

You guys waited too long
to move.

And when you did,
it was too late.

Now you want to save face

by doing it all on your own?

You guys don't even know

what Driscoll downloaded
into those files, do you?

We will win this. You know that.

I'll tell Hetty
to expect your call.

Yeah.

Eric, I need Jenny Waincroft's
address.

Copy that.
Jenny reach him, Sam?

He didn't pick up, but she says
he'll go to her place.

FBI just left empty-handed.
They're not happy.

Where's Jenny?

Deeks and Kensi are taking her
to the boat shed.

Address is on your phone, guys.

Meet you there.
Cool.

Yep. Eric, I'm at the address.
What's G's ETA?

Callen's still
20 minutes out, Sam.

Thanks.

Matt Driscoll,
Special Agent Sam Hanna, NCIS.

Matt, Jenny sent me.

Come on.

You alone?

Yeah.

What the hell's happening?
Is Jenny okay?

She told me to go home.

And I got there and...

You walked into something.

Who were they?

They want what you've got.

What could I possibly have...

The decryption key.

They want the decryption key.

The file's worthless without it.

Here.

Give it to them,
for God's sake.

That quick, huh?

That quick.

What did you download, exactly?

You can see for yourself.

I can't...
I can't look at it anymore.

I can't keep doing it.

This was Jenny's idea...
putting this file together.

She thought it would help.

Did you ever do a tour?

No.

Ever volunteer?

Is that what you think?
I'm a coward?

Are you?

Every rotation, I volunteer.

I always get knocked back.

Same reason every time.

Too valuable.

We who stay behind serve,
as well.

You know, they give
a medal for that.

That's me... too valuable,
too good at what I do.

What do you do?

Turn names into numbers.

People into statistics.

Important stuff, right?

Nobody's better at it.

Good old Matt... Mr. Numbers.

You former military?

SEAL.

You'll never understand.

Try me.

Operational debriefs.

After-action reports.

Names.

Places.

Dead, wounded,
breaking and broken.

You know what
my C.O. said to me?

No one in the military

knows as much
as I do in my field.

No one.

And at the end of the day,
I just turn them into numbers.

Your friends are here.

I'm only expecting one.

There a back way
out of this place?

Eric, tell Callen
we've got company.

Kemp.

Party of seven.

Copy that.

Nell, I need a street map,
six-block radius

centered on Sam's current location.
Typing.

And then alert Kensi and Deeks.

Tell them to get down there.

Callen, we've got
a little problem.

You two, check the back.
All right.

Move!

If you've stopped for doughnuts,
I will be pissed.

I can stop if you want.
What's the sitrep?

Driscoll's with me.

We're south
of the apartment building.

The cross street is 23rd.

Can you get to your car?

Kemp's flooding the area.

They're boxing us in.

I'll be there in ten minutes.

Not sure we got ten minutes.

Wait, Sam, the FBI said

they knew where Driscoll was
every second.

Kemp must have hacked into
the system. Driscoll's bugged.

Give me your phone.
Here.

Hey. What the hell?

You're bugged with
a GPS locator.

Wristwatch, keys,
anything electronic.

Come on. Come on.

That's all I got.

Come on, we got to keep moving.

What about a cab?

In L.A.? What, are
you kidding me?

Nowhere to run, G.

Be there in five.

Drive faster.
Where to?

There.

The Hollywood Safari Tour
will be leaving very shortly...

They're still tracking you.

Empty your pockets.

Garage remote.

Excuse me. I need
to see your pass.

Shut up.
Close the door.

Listen up.

Stay in your seats,
stay calm...

and please don't move.

Anybody tries to text or make
a phone call, they're dead.

Now, which one of you
is Matt Driscoll?

Show yourself, Driscoll,

or we kill everyone
on this damn bus.

Get up.

Wait. Wait.

I'm Matt Driscoll.

The FBI assigns you one agent.

You're worth more than that,
Driscoll.

Off the bus.

Move.

I don't have the decryption key.

You still don't get it, do you?

It's not the file I want.

It's your talent to get
into the Pentagon database.

You have any idea how much
that's worth to me?

That's not him.

That's not Driscoll.

Eric, I need an ambulance now.

Multiple casualties.

One of them is Driscoll.
On it.

Help's on the way.

You hang in there.

You hear me, Matt?

Help's coming.

Names...

not numbers.

It's too late.

Next time you want
to entrap someone,

be prepared
for the consequences.

Come on, get in the car.

Every time he applied
for a posting,

I prayed they'd say no.

And they did.

Made me happy.

Made him sad.

He said releasing the file
on the Internet was your idea.

I thought it would help him.

He was so haunted by his work.

What happens now?

There'll be an investigation.

And the FBI?

Them, too.

I did it for Matt.

So he'd have something

he could be proud of.

You haven't looked at the files.

No.

Agent Callen mentioned
that Matt said something.

Your name.

FBI is on their way over.

I'll wait with her.

Which would suggest that
I'm going somewhere?

For Eric.

What did Driscoll really say
before he died?

"Names, not numbers."

See if that works.

Decryption key.

Hetty's looking for you.

Something about
unfinished business.

It works.

They're all Special Forces.

Somebody want to explain
why this is so sensitive?

It's not.

The FBI just thought
it might be.

So, what is it, exactly?

A tribute.

To the fallen.

Driscoll wasn't accessing
confidential information

to steal secrets.

He was compiling the names
of soldiers

killed in classified missions.

Names, not serial numbers.

You know I didn't fire
my first gun until I was 20?

Ah.

A necessary evil
in our trade, I'm afraid.

We are a violent
bunch, aren't we?

Humans.

Sometimes.

But we can also be poetic,
musical, spiritual,

compassionate.

So what is it that made Driscoll
do what he did?

Oh... misguided... frustration.

Throughout history,
warriors were heralded.

Stories were told,
songs were sung,

statues were built.

Today, it's easy to forget

the sacrifices
our men and women make

when much of the country

is more concerned
with dancing celebrities.

This is starting to
sound an awful lot

like a pep talk on why
we keep doing this.

I don't need to tell you that.

No.

This is where
I give you a chance

to feel better
by granting you a rematch.

Climbing wall...

ten minutes.

And what makes you
think I want a rematch?

I just thought you'd like
to dispel the rumor going around

that, um, you were owned
when we last met.

Yeah.

You can't hold back, G.
You got to go for it.

You win up here, not up there.

Don't look. She's
just going to think

you're nervous.

Thank you, coach.

I'm not nervous.

I'm... resigned.

Come on, Mr. Callen.

I can't hang out up here
all night.

You don't want her beating you

before you even get to the wall.

She's already beaten
me three times.

Best of seven... you can do it.

So I can lose one more time?

Where's your
fighting spirit, G?

Sam, it's Hetty.

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

You're screwed.