All language subtitles for JAG.S01E14.DVDRip.XviD-TOPAZ.eng

Gitmo approach, TOMCAT 194.

Do you read? Over.

Ninety four. Gitmo control. Over.

Gitmo. 94. I've got a lightning strike.
My NS, GPS and my TACAN are out.

Could you give me a vector? Over.

Ninety four.

I have you 18 nautical miles
northeast of Gitmo.

Take a heading of 230. Over.

Ninety four, Gitmo. Say again.
You're breaking up. Over.

Fly two... Zero...

Two, three, zero.

Ninety four. Gitmo.

Ninety four. Are you reading Gitmo?

He probably lost his radio, too.
Keep trying.

Captain Boggs, sir. That TOMCAT
ferrying in from Pax River

just suffered
a lightning strike and lost all nav

and radio communications.

- He's wandering into Cuba, sir.
- He's got company!

Hey, TOMCAT, you are
violating Cuban airspace.

Drop your landing gear and follow me,
or we will engage.

Now, piloto.

A wise decision.

He's gone, sir.

It's open.

- Thank God. No model airplanes.
- They're in the bedroom.

Are you anal
or is there an epicurean reason

for separating those eggs?

It makes a fluffier omelette.

- A little trick your mother taught you?
- A Marine colonel.

- Lf that's a joke, I don't get it.
- No joke, Commander.

Am I in uniform?

- Not exactly.
- Then it's Allison.

I'm famished. Is there enough for two?

Not if you're famished.
What do you want, Commander?

To warn you.
Ever hear of an Admiral Chegwidden?

Yeah. He heads JAG in the Pacific.

Starting Monday, he heads JAG, period.

He's our new CO. And very ambitious.

He wants to be the next
chief of Naval Operations.

It'll never happen.

Navy's not going to
make a lawyer top dog.

- Why not?
- CNOs are John Paul Jones types.

Crusty old sea dogs

with 30 years of spray in their face.
Not lawyers.

But Chegwidden started
as a SEAL in Vietnam.

Transferred to the fleet
where he commanded a destroyer

before getting a law degree
and joining JAG.

He's broken every rule of advancement.

Gone from one branch
of the Navy to the next

and surfed the crest of them all.

The man's a genius
at changing horses in midstream

and jumping on the faster horse.

Sounds like
he should be running for president.

- First things first.
- What's the warning, Commander?

The Admiral has an aide who's a killer.

You're the rising young star in JAG
and that's a threat to her ambitions.

Her ambitions?

I'm the admiral's aide.

You have nothing
to worry about, Commander.

- I'm not that good or ambitious.
- The hell you're not.

It's one of the reasons
why I want to sleep with you.

Now, isn't this where
the Navy expects me to say

"yellow light," Commander?

Only if you're feeling sexually aroused.

- I'm feeling something sexual.
- Good.

One more warning.

Whatever our private relationship,

as long as you serve under me,

you'll have a tough time
earning a Sea Scout badge.

I wouldn't have it any other way, ma'am.

I know.

Now,

do I get some breakfast
or peddle to the nearest diner?

At ease, Mr Rabb.

Your record here reads like

a cross between Top Gun
and A Few Good Men.

Sorry about that, sir.

I'm not.

The Navy needs heroes.

Now more than ever.

Pilloried in the press by a liberal media,

underfunded by an
election driven Congress

and shooting ourselves in the foot
every time a sailor gets horny.

Yes, sir.

Now, if I repeated those words
to the press,

the Secretary of the Navy
would demand my resignation.

For while my words are as true
as the blue ice in the Arctic,

they're politically incorrect.

And today's Navy, Mr Rabb,
sails on the sea

of political correctness.

Yes, sir.

You know who that is, Commander?

- Admiral Arleigh Burke.
- 31-Knot Burke.

Bull Halsey called him that
after he charged destroyers full speed

into a Japanese battle fleet in the dark.

Outgunned and outnumbered,
he sent them running.

Turned the tide of the war of the Pacific.

Ten years later, President Eisenhower
promoted him over 92 senior officers

to become Chief of Naval Operations.

Why?

Because he was aggressive,
and that's what we're going to be.

While the rest of the Navy

rides out this media storm in port,
we're going to attack.

- The media, sir?
- Since you have the hot hand in JAG,

I'm going to give you
the hot investigations.

I expect results and headlines.
Positive headlines.

- Can you handle that, Mr Rabb?
- I'll do my best, sir.

If you can't, I'll drop you in my wake
faster than my garbage.

- Understood, Admiral.
- Good.

- Commander Krennick.
- Sir.

At 2350 hours last night,

a TOMCAT ferrying from
Pax River to Guant�namo Bay

lost communications
after being hit by lightning.

It overflew Cuba, where it was
forced down and captured intact.

It's a "D" model

with our latest attack radar
and ECM systems.

A computer expert can download
that software in less than a day.

So we need a legal position
to justify destroying the TOMCAT?

We're not going to destroy
the TOMCAT, Mr Rabb.

No SEAL strike team,
no cruise missiles, no laser bombs.

We're going to talk it back.

The Cubans offered
to open negotiations

and State accepted.

By the time we shake hands,
that software will be gone.

It's not our call.

But it doesn't mean
we can't use our initiative, Mr Rabb.

Commander Krennick and some slug
from State will handle the negotiations

while you find out
if that software is intact.

- And if it is, sir?
- Destroy it, Mr Rabb.

- Will do, sir.
- Dismissed.

Aye, aye, sir.

Commander Krennick?

Admiral?

You're not carrying a grudge against
Lieutenant Commander Rabb

because he beat you in Naples,
are you?

Far from it, sir.
I think he's just the challenge I needed.

Five chips!

All they have to do
is download five chips

and they'll have
what makes the TOMCAT so lethal.

- The pilot?
- Your wings are glinting, Commander.

I'm just pointing out
that there's more to combat flying

than computer systems.

I know that, sir.

But those five chips
give the TOMCAT a big edge.

An edge that the Iranians will
trade a lot of oil for.

That's right.
They've got F-14s we sold to the Shah.

They haven't been maintained,
Commander.

They're a bigger threat
to their pilots than anyone.

Not true.

The Iranians have hired

Russian technicians
to recondition them.

And 30 minutes ago,
one of those techno-mercenaries,

an avionics expert
by the name of Alexi Barkov

landed in Havana.

Why is Castro
willing to negotiate with us

if he's made a deal with the Iranians?

They probably figure

we'll never know
Barkov downloaded the data.

Yeah. Until we're up
against Iranian F-14s

as good as ours.

They'll never be as good as ours
unless we're flying them.

The Russians are training
their pilots, too, Commander.

And you believe that will make them
as good as an American naval aviator?

Your wings aren't
just glinting, Commander.

Now they're positively ruffling.

Maybe I'd better flap them.

You're going to fly?

This mission's on the Navy's nickel, sir.

Why let the Air Force jocks
have all the fun?

I'm surprised you brought him
down here with you, Commander.

He doesn't strike me
as the negotiating type.

He's a TOMCAT pilot and a lawyer.

A lethal combination in our negotiations.

To the Cubans or us?

Where's the stick?

It's built-in
on Air Force pilots, Commander.

Havana Approach Control.

This is Diplomatic Flight Seven Zulu.

Diplomatic Flight Seven Zulu.
Havana Approach.

Seven Zulu requesting clearance
to Los Ba�os.

Diplomatic Flight Seven Zulu.

I have no authorisation
to clear you into Cuban airspace.

Havana Approach Control claims
they know nothing about us

and are denying landing clearance.

That's ridiculous.

The Swiss embassy faxed me
our clearance this morning.

Here.

Signed by Fidel Castro.

Obviously someone didn't
pass the word along.

All right.
We're going to have to put down

until I straighten this thing out.

Sir? The Secretary says
to land at the nearest field

until he can straighten this out.

- We can't afford to lose the time.
- I know, sir.

I'll contact Miami Approach.

That's not the closest field, Lieutenant.

- Yes, sir. It is.
- Los Ba�os is closer.

The Cubans just
denied us clearance, Commander.

My bird, Lieutenant.

Seven Zulu. Havana Approach Control.

You are entering Cuban airspace.
Turn back now.

Havana Approach. Havana Approach.

Seven Zulu.

We have an emergency and request
a straight-in approach to Los Ba�os.

Seven Zulu. Havana Approach...

Sir, the Secretary wants to know
why we're not turning back.

He told me to land at the nearest field.
It's in Cuba.

Harm, he'll have a heart attack!

Seven Zulu. I repeat.

What is the nature of your emergency?

Havana. Seven Zulu.
We have a medical emergency.

A passenger's going into cardiac arrest.

I'm out of here.

Seven Zulu. Havana Approach.
Your emergency landing is denied.

Turn back now. This is my last warning.

They will intercept us with MiGs.

- Is that a problem, Air Force?
- No, sir.

I just want to remind the commander
he's not flying a TOMCAT.

- We don't have any weapons.
- We'll have to outfly them.

Yes, sir.

He's going to get us all killed!

They're not going to shoot down
a diplomatic mission

they know has clearance.

They don't know!
Somebody screwed up!

Of course, they know.

They're stalling to give Barkov

as much time as possible
to download those chips.

And what if you're wrong, Commander?

They'll shoot us down.

Here they come.

- Looks like we're going to play chicken.
- How's this bird roll, Lieutenant?

Roll, sir?

We're gonna... We're gonna die!

You're not going to puke, are you?

Los Ba�os tower.

This is Diplomatic Flight Seven Zulu.
On an emergency approach.

Say your winds
and altimeter setting, please.

Seven Zulu, you cannot land here.
This is a military base!

No problem, Los Ba�os.
We have a military escort.

Piloto de Seven Zulu.

Your military escort will shoot you down

if you do not
immediately climb to 5,000 feet.

We've got two of them.
One tight on our SIX,

the other 1,000 feet high.

Los Ba�os.

Does this bird loop
as good as she rolls?

Gear down!

Very nice, piloto.

Flaps!

2,000 feet. 1,500 feet. 1,000 feet!

500 feet! Running out of runway!

Close.

Sorry about that.

I forgot we don't have a tailhook.

We're here.

You told them
I was having a heart attack?

A medical emergency was the only
legal way to land in Cuba, sir.

International law states that no ship

or aircraft in an emergency
can be turned away.

They took my blood pressure
and they gave me a shot in the ass!

- Probably an inoculation, sir.
- Don't get smart with me, Mr Rabb,

or you'll be piloting
a harbour tug in Guam!

The important thing, Mr Secretary,
is that we are in Cuba.

Thanks to your faking
a medical emergency

which is how I intend
to write it up in my report.

What is it, Harm?

A TOMCAT running at ground idle.

I thought I heard it earlier.
The wind must have shifted.

I didn't see a TOMCAT when we landed.

Of course,
I didn't have much time to look around.

Yeah, it sounds contained.

It must be in a hangar
at the other end of the field.

You think the Cubans
are moving it because we're here?

No, it's too risky.

They don't have any pilots
checked out in TOMCATs.

Those turbines will over-temp
if they keep running at ground idle.

Maybe they're trying to burn them out.
Then, even if we make a deal,

the TOMCAT will sit here
until we replace the engines.

No. They're running them because
they don't have a compatible APU.

Speak English.

An auxiliary power unit.

A generator to run the TOMCAT's
electrical systems on the ground.

They're using the turbines
to provide internal power.

To run our avionics.

- I never knew a Lear could fly like that.
- Neither did I, sir.

Lieutenant Commander Rabb
was flying.

So you are the one
who eluded me, Commander.

Well, I had the advantage of ignorance.
I wouldn't want to try it twice.

Please don't.

I can assure you next time, sir,
it will be fatal.

Fuente. At your service, se�or.

Assistant Secretary of State Bair.

We had clearance
to land, Capit�n Fuente,

and I don't understand
why it was denied.

- Storms, Se�or Secretary.
- Storms?

The same ones
that disabled your TOMCAT

cut communications throughout Cuba.

We only received
your clearance moments ago.

My apologies, se�or.

But I have arranged
for accommodations at my hacienda.

There you can freshen up,

take a siesta
and be my guest for dinner.

That is most gracious of you, Capit�n.

But we prefer
the bargaining table to the dining one.

- You are in charge? Commander...
- Krennick.

I'm to negotiate the return

of United States Navy
personnel and property,

and I wish to begin as soon as possible.

- First I'd like to see the...
- Commander,

forgive me, but you are in Cuba,
not the United States.

Our pace is

more civilised.

After dinner we shall
discuss the personnel

and property of the United States Navy

which fate has
fortuitously placed into our custody.

I insist upon seeing the pilot

that you've detained
in violation of international law.

You are in no position
to insist on anything, Commander.

However,
in deference to your maternal instincts,

I will have your piloto join us for dinner.

- Maternal instincts?
- I'll eat his liver.

Are you familiar
with the tale of the tiger and the lady?

No.

But you can whisper it
in my ear after bed check.

That's an illegal cigar, Lieutenant.

I didn't buy it, sir.

We're here to negotiate.

If we start accepting gifts,
it could compromise our position.

Now, as your senior officer
it's my duty to confiscate it.

- Keep your grubby hands off my cigar.
- Come on, Meg. You won't appreciate it.

Are you saying because you're male,

you're going to appreciate it
more than me?

Not because I'm male.
Because I love cigars.

Well, you're not going to love
this one, sir.

Los Ba�os produces
many fine cigars here.

Even he smoked them.

- Castro?
- S�.

Your son was quite brave.

Yes. There are many brave men here.

Brave and willing.

- Willing?
- To do what?

Anything you ask, se�or.

- Cuban contra?
- Or a secret police setting us up.

And what was this business?
Doesn't anyone say Castro's name?

Not in conversation.
No, you just stroke your chin instead.

Keeter!

How you doing, Harm?

You're the pilot?

Afraid so, buddy.

Lieutenant JG Austin.

Lieutenant Commander Jack Keeter.
My roommate at the Academy

and the second best
naval aviator I know.

The CAG being the first, sir?

I do like
a bold female officer, Lieutenant.

Bold didn't have
a damn thing to do with it, Meg.

I'll tell
Commander Krennick you're here, sir.

- You can still pick them, buddy.
- She was assigned to me.

- Yeah, right.
- I thought you were a test pilot

at Pax River.

I am.
The Navy wanted a TOMCAT at Gitmo,

and I wanted to get out
of the cold for a weekend.

I should have froze my SIX
instead of screwing the pooch.

- Is that what you did?
- You asking buddy or JAG?

Me.

Why didn't you eject
and let your TOMCAT auger in?

You've punched out once.
Would you want to do that again?

Well, not if I had a choice.

Well, I've ejected twice.
Last time I cracked some vertebrae.

It took me a year
to get back on flight status.

I heard.

It's not like the bad guys
don't have F-14s.

Hell, the Iranians got 80 of them.

Yeah, but not with
state-of-the-art avionics.

- The lightning fried all of the software.
- I hope so, Keeter.

I wouldn't bilge you, Harm.

Here. This is where the lightning struck.

It damaged the communication
and navigation systems.

- So you can extract nothing of value?
- No. No. Quite the contrary.

The attack radar
is only slightly damaged

and the electronic counter-measures
are completely intact.

How long will it
take you to copy the systems?

The turbines
must be shut down every hour

for 30 minutes or they burn out.

By tomorrow night
I will have downloaded everything

and he will have enough Iranian oil
to see Cuba through the next revolution.

"Soon we will have sufficient oil
to fuel our homes and industries,

"our tractors, our cars.

"To carry the revolution
into the 21st century."

Your Spanish is excellent,
Lieutenant Austin.

I have the feeling, Capit�n Fuente,
that his speech is for our benefit.

You have broken
our little code, Commander.

It's as obvious
as the message he's sending us.

Message to you?

He's speaking to the people of Cuba.

In any case,

the United States Navy
is very grateful to Cuba

for granting safe haven
to our aircraft in distress

and wish to compensate you
for your humanitarian act.

Well, you seem to be worth
a great deal, Commander?

- Or is it the TOMCAT?
- Both are important to us, Capit�n.

Important enough
to lift your oil embargo?

We had a financial reward in mind.

We have oil in mind.

A decision of that magnitude
can only be made in Washington.

And would require more time
than is allotted for this negotiation.

Well, we don't know that,
Commander Krennick.

There is a secure phone in our Lear.

If I may be permitted to use it,
I can put in your request immediately.

By all means, Se�or Secretary.

Lieutenant Commander Austin,
please stay.

As Commander Krennick has said

this speech has bearing
on our negotiations

and you are the only delegate
who understands our language.

I wouldn't flash a yellow.
I'd go straight to red around here.

I...

I assume the Commander was
referring to a stoplight,

and this stoplight has something
to do with sexual advances.

And why would you think that?

Well, a warning from a man to a woman

left alone with another man
usually does.

It's part of our Navy's
sexual sensitivity training.

It's an inoffensive way
to signal a male when his speech

or behaviour is inappropriate.

The most powerful navy
in the world actually teaches

this kindergarten approach to sex?

It works, sir.

Lieutenant.

Sometimes.

And are navy women
permitted to signal green lights?

I suppose so.

And what would I have to do
to get a green light, Lieutenant Austin?

Yellow light, Captain Fuente.

We're wasting
valuable time, Commander.

- This deal's never going to fly.
- He's right, Mr Secretary.

The President isn't even close
to re-establishing trade with Cuba.

But the importance
of retrieving your TOMCAT

may be the impetus
necessary to change his mind.

Even if we get a yes from Washington,

by the time we get it,
if those chips are intact,

Barkov will have downloaded them.

You have a better idea, Commander?

- No, sir.
- I thought not.

You just lied
to an assistant secretary of State.

- I don't trust him.
- So?

- What's your idea?
- Use the contra to get me to the airport.

And if he's secret police?

Well, you'll have to rescue me
from prison.

Or get thrown in the same cell with you.

Well, no sense in my going
if you're staying behind.

You know what this reminds me of?

Barcelona.

Summer cruise. Our segundo year.

You and me strolled
two muy bonita se�oritas

down a colonnade just like this.

Trying to ditch their aunts.

- Are we trying to ditch these aunts?
- I got to take a look at your TOMCAT.

That software's fried, Harm.
There's nothing to worry about.

Then why did the Iranians
have a Russian computer pro

at the airport?

How did you land a TOMCAT at night
in weather without instruments?

Hey, I'm a hell of a pilot, bud.

Not even God's that good, Keeter.

I had my instruments.
My avionics were out.

Circuit breakers could have popped.
Internal fuses blown.

So what are you saying?
I screwed the pooch?

Yeah. I think you did, Keeter.

But what bothers me is

it's not something
you'd do unintentionally.

You need help, s�?

The next time they cut the engines,

I need two minutes
in the hangar without being seen.

That fuel truck is easy to blow.

No. What I do must
look like an accident.

So must your diversion.

- Well, you ask the impossible.
- You said, "Anything I asked."

I've got a big mouth.

You'll be amply rewarded.

I do not do this for money.

Nor for the United States.
I do this for un Cuba libre.

Iranian oil will only keep him in power.

My apologies, Raoul.

I will think of something.

We have to shut down again.

What's going on?

Lieutenant Commander Rabb
is missing.

Until he is found,
you will all be confined in the casa.

- What's going on?
- Where have you been?

I was in my room.

Well, we searched your room.
You weren't there.

You're making this
very difficult, Captain.

It is nothing compared
to what will happen

if you don't stop lying!

Okay.

I wasn't in my room.

I was in Lieutenant Austin's room
with her.

Evidently you give green lights
to some officers, Lieutenant.

I want to see you both now!

I apologise, Captain Fuente.

I hope this won't
jeopardise our negotiations.

Your government
is willing to lift the embargo?

We're to have
a decision by noon tomorrow.

Until then,
Lieutenant Commander Keeter

and the other piloto
will be returned to the airfield

under military custody.

The rest of you
will be confined to the casa.

Anyone leaving will be shot.

You two weren't really in bed, were you?

- Well...
- No, ma'am.

Well, where the hell were you?

- At the airfield.
- Doing what?

Watching Barkov,
I assume it was Barkov,

download data into a computer.

You see,
I told you we were wasting time.

We? Don't blame this
on me, Commander.

- State did not lose that TOMCAT.
- Hey, hey, relax.

The Iranians aren't going
to get the software.

- I sabotaged the TOMCAT.
- You did what?

Oh, God.

What's wrong, Mr Secretary?

What's wrong?

What's wrong
is that we wanted the Iranians

to get those chips!

Do you have any idea the damage
you have done, Commander Rabb?

The damage he's done?

You're the zip-lip that wouldn't let us in
on the rules of the game.

- Insults are childish, Commander.
- But satisfying.

So the software in our TOMCAT
is bogus?

No. Those five chips are very real.

Then why in God's name would
you want the Iranians to copy them?

They've built in a virus.

- What triggers it?
- The attack radar.

If they paint
any American aircraft or warship

the virus activates
and it melts their avionics

back to the Stone Age.

That's brilliant.

It would have been
if Lieutenant Commander Rabb

hadn't have interfered.

You're not with State.
Who do you work for?

It's none of your damn business.

Who do you work for?

NSA!

- Did you know about this?
- No!

- And the Admiral didn't either.
- Lieutenant Commander Keeter?

He volunteered for a black op.

- He didn't know details until take-off.
- You faked the lightning strike?

We shorted out the nav systems
to make it look good.

We even electrically
burned the fuselage.

And if that doesn't fool Barkov?

Our computer has
run this scenario hundreds of times.

The Barkov character
never tumbled through our game.

How many times
did your computer create a scenario

where the Rabb character
blew up the TOMCAT?

How did you sabotage it?

With a Navy issue 34-inch
brass-tipped cinch.

- What the hell is that?
- My belt.

I strapped it inside an engine intake.

Any turbine strong enough
to suck in a man

should tear loose a belt.

All right. So it eats a belt? So what?

So goodbye TOMCAT.

The buckle will shatter
the impeller blades

which will spin
like shrapnel into the fuel tanks

detonating them.

Like I said, "Goodbye, TOMCAT."

We haven't heard an explosion.

They're still letting
the turbines cool down.

- So you can still stop it!
- You stop it, Agent Bair.

I'm going to smoke a cigar
and watch the fireworks.

You saw Barkov
downloading those chips.

- That's what I said.
- The virus is in the last chip.

That's your...

That's right, Commander.

That TOMCAT blows
before Barkov downloads the last chip,

he'll have our software but not the virus!

Start it up!

One more chip to go.

Captain Fuente?
I'd like a word with you, sir.

May I?

Please.

What I'm about to say
could get me court-martialled

and imprisoned as a traitor.

I lied to you about being
with Lieutenant Austin in her bedroom.

I was at the airfield,
sabotaging our TOMCAT.

The software system
Alexi Barkov is downloading

for the Iranians is phony.

Secretary Bair,
who's with NSA, not State,

was running the sting
without the Navy's knowledge

and, therefore, without my knowledge.

So, thinking that valuable software

was going to fall
into the hands of the Iranians

I put a bomb in the TOMCAT.

Are you with me so far?

I think so.

Then you see why
it's in Cuba's interest to help me.

No.

The President will never lift
the oil embargo in an election year,

too many anti-Castro votes in Miami.

So Cuba's going to have
to get the oil from Iran

in exchange
for the software in our TOMCAT.

Which is phony.

The Iranians don't know that
and if you don't tell them, who will?

Help me, Captain, and we both win.

Turn me in, Iran wins.

How would you disarm the bomb
without Barkov knowing?

The same way I put it there.
With a diversion.

I want you to blow the airfield fuel truck.

- Blow the fuel truck?
- It gives me the diversion I need

and the added illusion
that I'm trying to destroy the TOMCAT

to prevent the theft of the software.

Of course,
I'll have to escape in the Lear jet

with Lieutenant Commander Keeter
to complete the charade.

You realise I will have to give chase.

I understand.

I see only one flaw, Commander Rabb.

What's that?

This could all be an elaborate plan
to put a bomb in your TOMCAT.

It could. But it isn't.

I would like more than your word.

That's all
I can give you, Captain Fuente.

The word of one
naval aviator to another.

Oh, God!

I don't believe it!

He blew the damn thing up!

Did he?

What?

What? What's going on?

- Light them up!
- You got it.

Seven Zulu.
Why are you starting your engines?

Seven Zulu,
you do not have clearance to taxi!

Seven Zulu.
You do not have clearance to take off!

What the hell are you doing, Harm?
You're flying south!

Florida's that way.

They'd catch us over the water
before we were half way there.

We're heading south.

Twelve, thirteen minutes we'll be out
of the Cuban airspace.

And 30 after that we'll be in...

The Cayman Islands!

This may turn out to be
a decent weekend after all.

Havana Control. Los Ba�os Guardians.

We have a Lear jet fleeing to Florida.

Can you assist? Over.

I have no unidentified targets
between you and la Florida. Over.

Havana. Los Ba�os.

He must be flying low in the mountains.

We'll pick him

when he makes a run
for it over the water. Los Ba�os. Out.

Havana. Los Ba�os Guardians.

Do you have any targets
south of Los Ba�os? Over.

Los Ba�os. Havana.

We have an unidentified aircraft
near the Isle of Pines. Over.

- How could you forget her?
- I didn't forget her. I forgot her name.

Maria Elena Carmelita
Moreno Gutierrez.

How the hell did you remember?

My first tour on the Seahawk
we took liberty in Barcelona.

You took out my girl?

Your girl?
You don't remember her name.

Hell, that's not the point.
You don't bilge your classmate

by dating his segundo cruise girl.

Seven Zulu.
This is Los Ba�os Guardians.

Turn back at once or be shot down.

Four more minutes
and we clear Cuban airspace.

- You think he's onto us?
- Nah.

He's searching for us
between Havana and Key West.

Lear jet. Los Ba�os Guardians.
This is your last warning.

Turn north immediately.

North!

Damn it, Harm!
He said north! He's on our SIX!

Lear jet, you have
10 seconds to comply.

Nine, eight,

seven, six,

five,

four,

three,

two,

one.

Hang on, Keeter!

Help, Keeter! Help me pull her out!

Come on, baby, pull out!

- We just exited Cuban airspace.
- Los Ba�os Guardians. Seven Zulu.

We've just exited Cuban airspace

and are making contact
with Grand Cayman Approach.

Thanks for the escort.

Seven Zulu. Los Ba�os.
You're welcome.

And have a nice day!

You're back. Where's Meg?

I dropped her off at her place
and decided to come here.

I need a hot bath, a good breakfast
and a long weekend in bed.

You up to it?

There's a woman in your shower.

Commander, I'd like you to meet
Maria Elena Carmelita Moreno

Gutierrez.