Original subtitles

Think they bought it?

I did.

That's fairly obvious.

For your information, that's my knee.

Whatever.

You can get off me now.

It's only been ten minutes.

I have a reputation to protect.

We're not even sure if we're under surveillance yet, Tony.

You can't be too careful when you're undercover.

Let's give it another 40 minutes just to be realistic.

Realistic, huh?

In that case...

I prefer it on top.

I can live with that.

What was that for?

Because that was definitely not your knee.

Mm, she's very beautiful, Jethro.

Her name's Sophie Ranier.

She's murdered over 25 people, Duck.

And her friend?

Her husband Jean-Paul Ranier.

Both Canadian citizens.

Both contract assassins.

She suffered extensive injuries.

It may take quite a while to determine the actual cause of death.

They were killed in a car accident two days ago outside of Kuwait International Airport.

There's the accident report.

I'm assuming this is urgent.

I've waited three months to see Giselle.

-Yeah, apologies about the girlfriend, doc, but I do need you... -Giselle's a ballet.

You really should get out of your basement more, Jethro.

We need to know everything we can about these two, Ducky.

Why is NCIS investigating this?

Marine CID found two fake U.S. passports

and two first-class tickets for Washington, DC, in their luggage.

They have reservations at the Barclay through November 10.

Marine Corps birthday.

They're holding the ball there.

Hosted by the commandant of the Marine Corps.

Our top military leaders congressmen, and agency directors will be there.

Including me.

Tony and Ziva have taken their room reservations at the Barclay.

They're there now pretending to be these two.

They're working blind, Duck.

We're counting on you to fill them in

on some of the more personal details of our couple.

Though it may be common knowledge that I talk to my patients,

unfortunately, to date, none of them have ever answered me back.

Listen harder.

Sweetheart, you know what I could really use right now?

Some deodorant?

I was thinking more along the lines of a back massage.

Good idea.

Why don't you roll over like a good boy.

Oh... wow.

And to think my mother thought I was too good for you.

What'd I miss?

They had sex.

They have any contact with anyone yet?

Just each other.

Multiple times.

Was it good for you?

Wait. Someone's knocking at their door.

Who is it?

Room service.

Room service.

Compliments of the hotel management.

Gibbs wants me to sweep the room for bugs...

place some of our own.

And he also wants to talk to you.

You can put it over there, please.

Very good, ma'am.

Garcon, we'd like some extra bath towels.

Of course.

Just checking to make sure everything's in order.

Would you like me to have the maid make up the bed for you, sir?

Oh, that won't be necessary.

Oh, and can you check the minibar?

I'd like it restocked with Red Bull.

Red Bull.

That'll keep you up all night, ma'am.

Exactly.

Please accept this assortment of cheeses, compliments of the hotel.

What's wrong?

Room service put a tray on our microphone.

You know what that means.

We're screwed?

Nope. You get to dress up as a maid, Maya.

If you whisper, it should be okay.

Comfortable, DiNozzo?

Well, yeah, working on it.

Why do you ask?

We're looking at you, Agent DiNozzo.

All of you.

Uh, sorry about that.

DiNozzo, what the hell are you doing?

You're married assassins.

You're not visiting the Playboy mansion.

It was kind of Ziva's idea, boss.

Incoming call.

Have her answer it.

Sweet cheeks, do you think you could go over

and answer the phone for me while I pour us some champagne?

Thanks, honey.

Yes.

There's a cell phone in the Bible next to your bed.

Got it.

Keep it with you at all times.

You have dinner reservations at the hotel dining room at 9:00.

Don't be late.

The concierge.

We were able to get into the dining room after all...

my love.

It looks like I'm getting dressed up for you tonight.

That wasn't the concierge.

That was their contact.

We're on the move.

Let's go. We've got to get dressed for dinner.

I'm going.

Don't look at me that way, Gibbs.

It was league night when I got your 911.

I was two frames away from a perfect score.

And just for the record, these stupid outfits were not my idea.

I like it.

Is is kind of cute, huh?

No sign of Mr. Palmer, I suppose?

Not since this afternoon, Ducky.

Abs, these are their personal effects.

Get yourself wired so you can feed whatever you find

directly to DiNozzo and David.

Looking for anything in particular?

Yeah, anything that will help those two act like them.

Solid on the visuals, Tony.

There's quite a crowd here tonight.

See anyone you know, sweet cheeks?

Not yet.

But the night's just getting started, my little hairy butt.

Abs.

I'm loading the photos into the computer.

Duck, you got any scoop for our married couple?

I have the breakdown of the contents of their stomachs and intestines.

If Mr. Ranier had lived, I would have suggested a more fiber-rich diet.

His colon was almost impacted with fecal material.

You think it's too late to order a salad?

Good evening.

Table for two?

I believe our food is here now.

Thank you.

Bon appetit, mon petit pois.

McGee...

report.

Got the restaurant covered from the entrance, boss.

I'm a meat and potatoes kind of guy.

Tony, the calluses on Mr. Ranier's hand suggest he was left-handed.

Switch hands, DiNozzo.

This is nice, isn't it?

Yeah, a quiet little dinner just the six of us.

Our friend is calling.

Abs, I want that number.

Got it.

Starting a reverse search directory now.

I'm glad you called.

We were getting bored.

Thought it would help to see your target in person tonight.

He's here?

You don't see him?

Relax.

I've been flying for over 20 hours.

And the restaurant's packed.

We will.

Talk to me, Abs.

He's calling from a pay phone.

The address is coming up.

You didn't mention anything about being surrounded by U.S. Marines.

It's too dangerous for the sum you're paying us.

Accomplish your mission, and we'll discuss more.

But you won't pay us more.

Got it!

2205 M Street.

He's calling from a pay phone inside the restaurant.

DiNozzo, McGee!

Already moving.

I have to go to the little boy's room.

I have to talk to my boss.

Do that.

We'll wait for you to...

He hung up.

Don't move. Federal agent.

It's me, Probie.

He's gone.

Must have slipped out through the kitchen.

I didn't even get a look.

Want us back in the squad room, boss?

No, I want you and Ziva back in your room maintaining your cover.

All night?

Do I stutter or something, DiNozzo?

Afraid I'll bite, Tony?

The name is Jean-Paul, Sophie.

Jean-Paul.

Hey, Abs, what do you got?

I have a "whoopee" and I have a "but."

Abby?

Whoopee I got a photo of the man that Tony and Ziva are going to assassinate.

But?

But...

I have no idea which of these 32 photos is him.

What makes you think the target's a male?

Did you forget I'll be there?

No, whoever set up the hit referred to the caller as a man.

You made contact?

Ziva got a pay phone call.

You trace it?

Gee, why didn't I think of that?

Sorry, Jethro.

I'm a little tired.

Yeah, well, you never could pace yourself very well.

I have one word for you, Jethro.

Positano.

Come on.

That was a week after I took a bullet.

Where did the call originate?

Pay phone, the hotel.

We got there, the guy was gone.

At least we know he's here keeping tabs on the operation.

Abby's matching these photos with reservationsin the restaurant.

She'll check the names against invites to the ball.

It'll narrow the target.

What if the hit has nothing to do with the ball?

Someone who's a guest at the hotel?

Ziva told him she didn't know the target would be surrounded by Marines.

And he wasn't surprised.

No.

Hey, nothing's going to happen tonight.

Tony and Ziva are hitting the rack, all the backup teams are in place around the hotel.

Why don't you go grab 40 on the couch in your office?

No, I just need a little coffee.

Yeah? When the caffeine jolt ends?

I'll do what you do.

Get a refill.

You're not me.

Chauvinist.

Yeah.

Yeah... I guess.

Good night, Jen.

Jethro?

Need to bounce something off you.

Okay, shoot.

My director side is telling me flood that hotel with security

and notify the FBI of a potential terrorist attack.

My agent side?

If I do that, we lose the chance to take down an enemy cell operating inside the capitol.

They'll scatter.

Of course, you'd stay the course, trust your people to get the job done.

You telling me what I'd do?

Asking.

If I was director, I'd give my people another 24.

They can't get the job done, I'd notify the FBI.

You'd really do that?

Nah. But that's why I'll never be director.

The man snores like a drunken sailor.

Well, we won't have to listen much longer.

He saw their target at the restaurant.

We're on plan.

Watched the videotape of their sessionthis afternoon, Maya.

It was pretty hot stuff.

These two really know how to live their life.

You, uh, you ever think about that maybe...?

Forget it. We're here on a mission, period.

You want something more than coffee, call room service.

Oh, my God.

Ziva? Shh...

Come on, you're killing me here.

Sophie!

What?

Nothing. I thought I heard something.

Crazy chick.

I heard that, my little hairy butt.

Morning, boss.

Thank you.

Hey, boss, this was sitting on my front porch this morning.

What is it?

It's a package addressed to Ziva.

Well, yeah, I can see that, McGee.

What is in it?

Wasn't sure if I should open it.

That's probably why shs using you as her mule.

Sunglasses.

With different lenses?

Why?

To protect her eyes?

You know, I'm going to ask her. I'm going to find out.

Yeah, good idea, McGee.

Give 'em their wake-up call.

Tony?

Hey, DiNozzo!

Tony!

This is great.

They're sleeping in a five-star hotel, I'm a waiter.

Want to trade places, McGee?

You're awake.

Since 0500.

He snores.

I've got a package here for you.

My shades.

Can you bring them up with breakfast?

Sure. Gibbs wants Tony up, too.

Huh, my pleasure.

Jean-Paul, my little furry bear.

-Wake up, cheri. -I'm in position, boss!

Make the stitches precise, Mr. Palmer.

Uh, yes, Doctor.

And when you're done, I want the supply locker inventoried and cleaned.

I, uh, actually, already did that, Doctor.

Then do it again.

What have we found out, Duck?

That my assistant, Mr. Palmer here, should keep

his cell phone with him and turned on at all times.

What can you tell me about our assassins?

Mr. Ranier here had his appendix removed,

Mrs. had her left wrist broken as a child.

We did, however, find some rather curious markings.

Markings?

Well, tattoos might be the more appropriate word.

Almost invisible to the naked eye.

On the inside of the fourth digit of both of their left hands.

An eight?

Or the sign for infinity.

Some kind of terrorist cell I.D.?

On their ring fingers.

Perhaps it means "love forever."

You know, I want to take another look at the X rays, make sure I didn't miss anything else.

Yeah, do it.

Missed a stitch there, Palmer.

We really should take you to see the doctor, sweet cheeks.

Why's that?

Because you snore like a drunken sailor with emphysema.

Look who's calling the pot black.

Kettle. Pot is calling the kettle black.

Oh, I'd really like some music.

Something with a little beat, dear?

Sorry.

Ooh, you want me...

What do we got?

Mm, sneaky people.

Top floor, northwest corner, Gibbs.

They have a laser trained on our room.

I can't believe that your sunglasses can detect different light spectrums.

Ziva, that is amazing.

DiNozzo, we're going to need a diversion.

-I think we can manage something, boss. -Let's roll, McGee.

Ziva, that is amazing.

Big whoop, she has spy glasses.

Anyone can do that. That's not amazing.

You realize we can still hear you, right, Abby?

I think I'm going to need a cold shower after this.

Disgusting.

Give me those binoculars.

I don't know how much longer...

I can keep this up, boss.

96, 97, 98...

We're in position, DiNozzo.

Give it the big finish.

We could make a fortune with this off the Internet.

They're serial killers, Yussif.

I wouldn't recommend trying.

NCIS!

FBI, freeze!

Put it down!

I got a whole new respect for NCIS, Agent McGee.

You guys are hard-core.

Ah, we got lucky.

It's actually the trained laser on the room that gave you away.

We were talking about your agents pretending to be married assassins.

Very convincing.

I don't think anyone in the FBI would actually go all the way just to sell a cover story.

I would.

Guys, they were acting.

Trust me...

I know when someone's acting when they're having sex.

It's true I've met his wife.

Well, Tony and Ziva wouldn't.

...unusual for men to like love stories.

How do I explain to the director of the FBI that we're running

an undercover op in his jurisdiction without informing him.

With a smile.

It's not funny, Gibbs.

They had intel that two assassins were going to hit

a target at the Marine Corps Birthday Ball.

Did you get that memo?

No.

Why didn't I think of that?

Because you're exhausted.

I told you get some sleep.

And do that before you take on the director of the FBI.

I can't, Jethro.

I can fix this.

How?

You're not the only one around here knows how to play politics.

You're not serious.

Your idea of politics usually involves some form of physical violence.

Well, you know what they say, Jen...

can't make an omelet unless you break a few eggs.

Are we free to go now?

Not yet.

What the hell's NCIS doing...

Our job, Fornell.

Yeah, that involve jeopardizing our operation?

You're damn lucky we didn't blow these two away.

Which wouldn't have happened if you hadn't strayed into our jurisdiction!

Conference room...

Now!

So anxious to play with the big boys...

Really? Big boys, my ass!

Yeah, this is going to be ugly.

Oh, yeah. Fornell hasn't been this upset since...

The last time we saw him.

Gum?

The big boys?

We really screwed this onep.

Oh, you think, Tobias?

The question is, how do we fix it without our directors

getting into a world-class pissing match?

Joint op.

Who's lead?

My team's already in place.

Did you find out who hired them?

Not yet.

Working on it.

I need more than that for my tap dance at the Hoover Building.

Give us 24 hours, then we flip.

I gets operational control?

Yeah, and credit for the collar.

Agreed.

Directors get to save face and we...

Get the job done.

And people say we're bastards?

Only because they know us.

I've got the I.D.'s on the people in

the restaurant who have invites to the Marine Corps Ball, ma'am.

Uh, Abby. Sorry.

Make sure Tony and Ziva get 'em.

Okay. Should I also check restaurant staff, too?

International assassins hired to take out a waiter?

I was just trying to be thorough.

No...

it's good.

Good instincts, Chip. Run 'em.

Hey, Abby, can I ask you a question?

Yes.

Why don't you like Officer David?

What makes you think I don't like her?

Uh, I found this.

Oh... that.

I understand.

I have the same problem with DiNozzo.

Tony is a great guy.

You just have to get to know him.

Yeah, well, you don't know him like I do.

He always gives new people grief.

He learned that from Gibbs.

Okay, quiz time.

What's your take on Sophie Ranier's blood test?

Well, she's got elevated levels of human chorionic gonadotropin.

Which means?

She's pregnant?

Good, Chip.

She's pregnant.

Who's pregnant?

Ziva...

well, not Ziva, Ziva, but Sophie Ranier, our dead hit girl.

She's got a bun in the oven.

Like what you see, Agent DiNozzo?

You're room's clean except for the listening devices we installed.

We're free to talk.

Yeah.

So... you're the one who's been watching us?

Oh, yeah.

When this is over, we really should go out for drinks.

I-I'd like that.

I'm pregnant, Tony.

Maybe some other time.

She was...

she was kidding.

Something wrong?

Thanks.

Oh, she's really not your type anyway.

Hot... and in a maid's outfit.

They don't get any more my type.

He's learning.

Number's blocked.

Talk to me.

I've been told to negotiate a price commensurate with the risk.

I'm listening.

Not on the phone.

Be in the lobby in exactly one hour.

A black Lincoln will be waiting out front.

Make sure you're not followed.

In position, boss.

Your people set, Tobias?

Got four unmarked vehicles standing by.

We'll be able to follow them wherever they go.

Tony, Ziva...

get ready to roll.

Hour's almost up.

Roger that, boss.

You haven't fired your weapon, so it's already clean.

It calms my mind.

It forces me to stay focused at the job in my hand.

The term's "job at hand."

Same difference.

Something wrong?

Just trying to picture you pregnant.

Don't.

I have to.

I'm going to be a father.

It's a great responsibility.

Maybe it's not yours.

Maybe she didn't know.

Oh, she knew.

So, why take this contract?

Put her unborn child in danger?

Perhaps we needed the money.

Kids are expensive.

And bullets are cheap.

There's a big chance this meeting is a set-up, Tony.

You scared?

No.

Excited.

No sign of the Lincoln yet.

That's a solid copy, McGee.

We're sending them down.

All mobile units, prepare to roll on my mark.

This reminds me of our op in the former Czech Republic.

You took a round in the thigh.

I had the same bad feeling before that op, too.

We're on our way to the elevator, boss.

Tony, Ziva...

we're not taking any chances on this one.

First sign it goes bad, you call it.

Hold the door.

Thanks.

Sure.

Sweetheart...

Okay, black Lincoln just pulled up.

Yeah, got a visual on that, McGee.

Got a match. Abby!

Man and a woman just got out.

Heading into the hotel.

Car's leaving.

I can see that, McGee.

All units, hold your positions.

That's not our Lincoln.

The waiter's got a warrant out on him.

For what?

Murder.

You're getting off here.

Not a wise choice, Mr. and Mrs. Ranier.

Weapons.

We would've come to the third floor ourselves.

Three armed escorts seems a bit excessive.

Very good.

Our location and our number in two sentences.

It's too bad your friends can't hear you.

You're being jammed.

Bring them to my room.

If they resist...

...shoot the woman.

Come on, let's go.

Tony, Ziva, do you copy?

DiNozzo, I said, do you copy?

McGee!

What the hell is going on there?

Boss, they're not in the room.

They never arrived in the lobby.

My teams have the entire outside of the building covered.

They didn't leave the hotel, Gibbs.

Last contact was at the elevator that leaves 11 floors they could've gotten off at.

11 floors, McGee.

How many rooms we looking at?

Um, well, if we don't count individual bathrooms and, uh, closets...

McGee!

264 hotel rooms, 22 utility rooms.

They haven't checked in because they can't.

They're at the meet right now?

They removed their earwigs and they dumped their comm when it was changed to the hotel.

We go room by room.

My peoplseal off...

No. We wait.

What for?

For Ziva to contact us.

We move now, we blow their cover, Fornell.

And if their cover is already blown, Director?

There are two things you should be painfully aware of right now.

One...

no one leaves this business.

And two, never threaten the people who employ you.

Should I be writing this down?

I take that as a "no."

Where's the disk?

What disk?

Where, Mrs. Ranier?

What makes you think we have it?

We spotted your backup at the restaurant.

On some level, you must have known this was gonna happen.

Hm, observant.

How much is our disk worth to you?

I have a better question.

What's it worth to you?

It's bad, Gibbs.

It's very, very bad.

Remember when we missed nabbing the guy in the restaurant?

Well, Tony said he didn't see anything, but the eye sees more than we think it does.

It's the brain that misses stuff it has to do

with the firing of the optic nerve and the visual cortex...

You found something from Tony's camera.

Well, I went to the feed, frame by frame.

Now, Tony is looking at the pay phone,

because that's where he thinks the target is.

But a camera doesn't think, it just records.

So when he runs past the kitchen door of the restaurant, we got... this.

Our bad guy.

Run it.

I want a name.

I do. I did.

Marcos Siazon.

He's a contract assassin, Gibbs.

He's wanted in more than five countries.

It doesn't make any sense.

Why would a killer hire other killers to do a hit for him?

Out of professional courtesy, I've had Mr. Cord go lightly on your husband.

And I appreciate that.

Unfortunately, we're running out of time.

If you let him go, I'll tell you where the disk is.

You'll tell me either way, Mrs. Ranier.

Why don't you two take a moment...

...consider your options.

I might have a plan.

What?

The Raniers obviously stole something they want, and you're gonna give it to 'em.

We don't have it.

You're gonna tell them it's in our hotel room,

the only way they'll find it is if you show 'em.

McGee should be waiting for us in there.

Good plan except for one minor drawback.

What?

When I leave...

they'll most likely put a bullet through your head.

Oh. Well, I didn't say it was a perfect plan.

Two centimeters below the supra-orbital notch.

What do you make of it, Mr. Palmer?

I originally assumed it was a speck of dirt on the exposure.

It appears to be...

a heart?

Yes.

Rather a strange place to find one.

Don't you agree?

It appears to be gold, surgically embedded in the conjunctival layer.

Perhaps some type of body jewelry?

Jewelry embedded in an eye?

Oh, yes, you'd be amazed what people do to themselves.

To Abby, please.

I doubt anyone would notice your little gold heart unless they knew it was there.

Staring into your eyes, face to face...

like a lover.

I found a chip in it.

Flash memory embedded underneath, sir.

500-megabyte capacity, 50 MPS throughout.

Translation?

It contains the Raniers'

personal data in two files.

One has a list of numbered bank accounts, a deed for a restaurant, a house in Gilead, Maine.

We also ran the address the phone service and cable

are scheduled to be turned on next week, sir.

Sounds like a retirement plan.

She was pregnant, they were getting out of the business what about the other file?

It has a list of their clients.

Their names, addresses, phone numbers, all their information, everything.

Insurance policy?

Their ticket out.

They weren't hired to make a hit, Gibbs.

They are the hit.

Did you know the Peruvians make blades so sharp,

some people can't even feel the initial incision.

Stop.

The disk's in our hotel room.

Don't. He'll only use it...

Where?

She has to show you.

Not what I asked.

You'll never find it without her.

Even if you kill us.

Untie her.

I'm in position.

Clear the room I'm on my way up with the girl.

My pleasure.

Your only mistake is going for one last big payday.

You got greedy.

I'm pregnant.

Really?

Congratulations.

Boy or girl?

I don't know.

We want to be surprised.

That's the best way, believe me.

How many months?

Three.

Morning sickness?

Only every single day.

I hated to see my wife go through it.

But believe me, it's all worth it in the end.

So you're not going to kill us?

We're assassins.

You know we can't just walk away from the game when we feel like it.

Hell, and to think I'd rather be at my daughter's fifth birthday than here.

So you are gonna kill us, right?

I haven't decided yet.

Give me the disk, and we'll see.

Play it by ear.

If I'm not back in five minutes...

...kill him.

That was purely for your wife's cooperation.

We like to call them little white lies.

Open it.

I hope you weren't counting on your backup, Mrs. Ranier.

He's not my backup.

Tony!

Third floor, room 356.

All teams, third floor, room 356.

Federal agent in distress.

Copy. We're moving.

You know what's funny?

I was really looking forward to having a kid there for a minute.

This is a big step for me.

Having a little DiNozzo running around.

DiNozzo?

Yeah, that's my full name Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, NCIS.

How's that feel, huh?!

Huh, big guy?!

Enough!

You want to punch me again? Come on.

Tony, enough, enough.

Tony, I think you made your point.

I want a divorce.

The emergency room seems to have done a pretty good job.

How do you feel?

Better, now that I can breathe.

There doesn't appear to be any permanent damage.

How many times did he hit you?

I wasn't counting.

Seven times.

She was, of course.

It was hard not to.

We're gonna take really good care of you, Tony.

I had Chip pull your car right around front.

He drove my car?

Just... from your parking space.

I took extra special care.

Oh. Thanks.

And, uh, I'm driving you home.

Probie?

Uh, Ziva, actually, I should probably drive him home tonight.

Why is that?

Maybe he wants to live.

Yes, well, however you get home, I suggest a couple of aspirin.

Yes, and perhaps some scotch.

Thought doctors weren't supposed to prescribe alcohol anymore, Duck.

Well, it always seems to work for you.

You get tickets to that Gazelle thing again?

It's Giselle, Jethro, and no, that's not tonight.

Marine Corps birthday ball.

She didn'tell you?

Our lovely director has asked me to escort her.

All right, good night, boss.

Darn!

I'm good.

Hey, Gibbs.

Happy birthday.

I miss you guys.

Semper fi.