Original subtitles

That was a puff dragon right there.

All right, Angel, come back with something stronger.

Show them why you the reigning champ right now. Let me see.

Let's go, Luis. Show me something nice right here.

Come on. Show me some fire, baby.

Show me that fire. Show me that fire.

Right here. Hit me. Come on.

Come on. You gonna let him take you out like that?

Show me something nice, brah.

That almost got me right there, man.

Like it, huh? He took a big sip for this one.

Show me some fire, baby.

Grand finale. Show me something right here, Luis.

Oh, man on fire! Man on fire!

Burning Angel. Burning Angel.

And we got a new winner. And new dragon.

Luis "el Conquistador” Morales!

Let me see you blow it up for me, baby. Show me something nice right here.

Oh, what the hell was that?

- Yo, yo. - Oh, man.

Oh, what the...?

That dude just jump off the bridge?

That's nasty.

What the hell?

It's almost ready!

It's alive!

It's alive!

Oh, gentlemen, gentlemen, gentlemen.

Oh. Sam Dog, want some of this latest creation?

Looks like someone drained it out of a latrine. Pass.

Heh. G-Bacon? Something to clean out that 7 pounds

of undigested red meat that's putrefying in your intestines?

Long as I still have my teeth, I prefer to chew my food.

This is a lot easier to digest.

Full day's nutrients. Come on, no takers?

- Looks predigested. - Al right.

I guess I'm the only person that treats their body like a temple.

- Yeah, Shirley Temple. - Ha-ha-ha.

That's right. Laugh while you can, gentlemen, because humor

is the first casualty of your impending vascular dementia.

Morning, boys. What's going on?

Your partner has the body of Shirley Temple.

Tell me something I don't know.

Oh. You know what?

That just cost you a burst of instant awesome.

- Looks more like a burst of instant... - No, don't say it. Please.

- Don't say what? - Don't say what?

Just drink your awesome.

Enjoy. Sam has a little problem with the, uh, D word.

- Oh, yeah? What D word? - Dentist?

Didgeridoo? Dunkleosteus?

- What is that? - That's a prehistoric fish.

Don't ask me why I know that.

- Diarrhea. - Now, what...? What did I just say?

I almost died of dysentery in Angola.

- Twice. - Oh.

- Twice. - Oof.

I'd rather be shot than drink that.

Just to clarify, a clown with colitis is like your worst nightmare?

- Shut up, Deeks. - Heh.

Okay, too far.

Sometimes I hate being the only girl. In fact, most days, I...

Eric, my friend.

Please tell me we have a case, even if we don't.

- Oh, uh, yeah. - Thank God.

It's like a high school locker room down there.

You know what? Never mind. You wouldn't understand. You're a boy.

No, actually, I do understand. I was a geek in high school.

The locker room was my Thunderdome.

Yeah? Maybe it's because of the Florence Henderson haircut.

Nell!

What's the skinny, mini, a.k.a. Ms. Jones?

L.A.P.D. received a hotline tip

from someone who witnessed an apparent suicide

off the Whittier Street Bridge last night.

The body has been identified as Lieutenant Commander Steven Hill,

an engineer officer on the USS Darlington,

an Ohio-class nuclear sub.

Now, the Darlington has been at sea for three weeks,

but Hill has been listed as an unauthorized absence

for almost a month.

- Family? - Wife and son.

His spouse reported him missing 28 days ago.

- Any red flags? Gambling? Drugs? - No.

Nothing on his file.

And we can't question his unit, because they're already underway.

Because of his top-secret rating and knowledge of our boomers,

we've been tasked with checking it out.

Okay.

- Crime scene, family? - Uh, Sam was a sailor.

You should probably take family.

- Crime scene. - Gah.

- Heh, heh. - Diarrhea.

- Stop it. - Ow.

I actually felt that. How does he do that? Ow!

- Felt that? - Yeah, because you actually hit me.

Sorry, did I get you in your dunklesaurus?

Um, okay, just for the record, it's Dunkleosteus.

- That'll do it. - Yeah, but why here?

And where's his car? It wasn't up there.

Could have been stolen in this part of town.

Or he could have walked.

- From where? - Yeah.

There's not much around here.

- Bus? - Who takes a bus to a suicide?

Ah, you'd be surprised. Golden Gate Bridge, Niagara Falls.

Both iconic. This is just sad.

Well, maybe our guy lacked imagination.

Or he was so distraught he didn't care.

"Eng" on a boomer is tough.

Just spending months at a time on a sub takes a special type.

All of whom are extensively screened.

L.A.P.D. got an anonymous tip. Why don't we have Eric check the area

for cell-phone activity around the time of the jump?

Speak of the chicken-legged devil.

What do you got, Eric?

Prelim autopsy report from the coroner's office.

They're saying Hill was dead before he hit the pavement.

Hard to jump when you're a corpse.

Hmm. Unless you're a zombie.

You got a cause of death?

Cocaine overdose.

What do you got?

Coroner's report says that Hill died of a cocaine overdose.

- Well, that doesn't fit the profile. - No, it doesn't.

Are you sure I can't get you something?

No. Thank you very much.

I have people bringing food over all morning. I...

I have no idea what I'm supposed to do with all of it.

I know this is incredibly difficult, Mrs. Hill,

but we need to gather as much information as fast as possible.

Yeah. I kept telling myself Steven was coming back,

but I didn't expect it to be like this.

You reported him missing a few weeks ago? Is that correct?

Twenty-eight days.

Yeah, he was right here, working on the playhouse.

He needed something from the hardware store.

I was gonna go with him, but Adam had just fallen asleep.

Adam's your son?

He's 7.

I haven't told him yet.

He's used to his father being away for extended periods of time,

but you know, this time he's not coming back.

Did your husband struggle with anything?

Alcohol? Gambling? Drugs?

No, he was squared away, as you say.

Steven wouldn't have put Adam and me through this willingly.

Mrs. Hill, what do you think happened to your husband?

I don't know,

and neither do his friends.

The coroner report says your husband died of a cocaine overdose.

No way. That's impossible.

Steven didn't use drugs ever. He didn't smoke. He barely drank beer.

Now, I don't know what happened to my husband,

but I know he did not die from a drug overdose.

You need to leave. Now.

- Thank you. - Of course.

Okay.

Owen?

You've been wearing the same shoes for six months.

What's wrong?

What have you heard?

Nothing.

But I can surmise that the White Ghost has come back to haunt me.

Look, you knew this day was coming.

What's the official word?

Administrative leave pending a full investigation.

- Effective...? - Immediately.

Of course.

Of course.

- I'm sorry. - Spare me your platitudes, Owen.

You may need them yourself.

Somebody in Washington is stirring this up.

- It's a witch hunt. - Yes.

And unfortunately, I'm the one left holding the broom.

Lieutenant Commander Hill's wife says he never used any drugs.

But toxicology proves he died of a cocaine overdose.

Preliminary autopsy report shows signs of repeated needle use.

IV cocaine injection is hard-core.

How long was he dead before he was thrown off?

- An hour, maybe less. - If your buddy ODs,

you take him to the ER, you don't toss him off a bridge.

Yeah, this was deliberate.

It's either an act of anger or it was meant to look like a suicide.

- Or both. - The question remains, to what end?

- Wonder Twins find anything? - As a matter of fact, we did.

Cell activity in the vicinity of the bridge

around the time Hill's body was dumped.

Most of it's probably automobile traffic, but I've got some

that remain in the area long enough to have possibly witnessed something.

- Do you have any names? - Yeah. But only one with a record.

"James Martinez." Affiliated with the Mission Street Gang.

- That's their territory. - If anybody was hanging around there,

it was someone from their gang. Do you have an address?

Yeah, I got six. He's bounced around a lot.

It's quicker to just ask his gang.

It's quicker, but it's a hell of a lot more dangerous.

- Thanks, Eric. - Where's your sense of adventure?

Ileftitin my sense-of-self-preservation pants.

- They still fit you? - Sure do.

So I went back through Steven Hill's records,

all of which confirm what his wife said.

On Wednesday, April 16th,

he bought a circular saw blade from a hardware store at 3:48 p.m.,

six blocks away from his house.

- And after that? - Nothing.

His cell phone gets turned off, his car disappears,

and his credit cards are never used again.

- Traffic cams? - Nope.

So maybe he was abducted.

I mean, he's an engineer aboard a nuclear submarine.

He's got top-secret clearance.

He's got access to tons of proprietary and technological information.

So, what, grab him, shoot him full of drugs, pick his brain, and then...?

- And then what? - Kill him with an overdose,

throw him over a bridge, make it look like a suicide.

- That's not bad. - It's not nice,

but it's pretty damn clever.

Okay, so who grabbed him? North Korea?

- Pakistan? - What did you expect?

- This was gonna go away quietly? - No.

Neither am I. Tell them that.

Wait a minute. I... I have nothing to do with this.

Well, maybe that's the problem.

Because if you are not watching my back,

then you might as well be stabbing it.

I hate it when Mom and Dad fight.

Ms. Jones. I need a flight to Washington.

I'm on it.

Hetty.

Is everything okay?

No, everything is not okay, Agent Blye.

But would you please return to work?

You ever in a gang?

Tsk.

All the years we've worked together, have I mentioned me being in a gang?

I don't know. Maybe you were too embarrassed to admit it.

Do I look like someone who would be in a gang?

- Well, you know. - Well, what about you?

Mr. Crew-Cut, bullet scars, only goes by "G."

You're, like, one swastika tattoo and a pair of Doc Martens away

from looking like all the white supremacists we ever busted.

- I got better teeth. - Ha, ha.

- You know it. - Guilty.

Here we go.

A little garden party going on here.

Yeah.

Black tank top is Salazar, their leader.

You guys lost?

Eh, we're just looking for a friend.

I don't think you have any friends here.

Yeah, you're probably right.

Just want to ask one of your boys about something he might have seen.

Nice car.

Yeah, it is. Don't touch it.

I'm serious.

There's only one way this goes well for you, Salazar.

How's that?

You tell us where James Martinez is, and we're gone.

What makes you think I know him?

You wouldn't be much of a leader if you didn't.

I don't know you, and I know a lot of cops.

We're federal agents. You wouldn't wanna know us.

A body was dumped off the Whittier Street Bridge.

Martinez might have seen something.

Well, I can call LAP.D.,

have them send over their urban assault team

and just go house to house and look for him.

Where's Martinez working today?

Fruit stand on Mateo.

Wasn't that easy?

One love, baby.

- You know he's gonna run. - No, he might not.

Trust me, he's gonna run. You know how I can tell?

Because it's 85 degrees out and we're both wearing jeans?

- Exactly. - Mm-hm.

- You could just hit him with your car. - Nah.

I just got it detailed.

Yo, yo!

Yo, what you looking for?

Looking for you, James.

You run, we chase you.

- We chase you, we catch you. - And when we catch you,

we're gonna tell Salazar you're our informant.

What'd you see the other night under the Whittier Street Bridge?

I don't know what you're talking about. I gotta get to school.

He's funny.

- And there he goes. - He must be late for class.

- What, really? - Yeah, I'll follow him in the car.

Let's go.

- You almost had him. - I'm driving the rest of this week.

Not if you don't catch him, you don't.

Yeah.

- I'll keep the a.c. on. - Funny.

Down on the ground.

That's for making me run.

Hetty, do you have a minute?

- Is it urgent? - I don't know. I'm not sure.

Well, then it's not.

And if it's not, I don't have a minute.

Uh, does this...? Does this have anything to do

with what happened in Afghanistan?

Agent Blye, I have work to do, and I'm sure you must too.

She shut me down again.

Wish she'd teach me how to do that.

I'm telling you, this has something to do with Afghanistan.

- You don't know that. - Yes, I do.

If it wasn't, she would have said so.

Survey says heroin.

What are you taking at school, pharmacology?

- That's not mine. - Yeah?

Not anymore, it isn't.

- Hey. - Hey, what?

You said this wasn't yours.

- It's still somebody's personal property. - Was. Now it's evidence.

I don't have to talk to you guys. I got the right to remain silent.

Yeah, you also have the right to remain stupid.

Or you can be smart. Tell us what you saw under the Whittier Street Bridge.

I don't even know where that is.

No?

Man on fire! Man on fire!

- Burning Angel. Burning Angel. - Huh.

These must be buddies of yours from your Mensa group.

Luis "el Conquistador” Morales.

Show me something, baby. Let me see. Oh! Ha-ha-ha!

What the hell was that?

No eyes on the bridge, but you can hear a car.

Every engine has its own acoustic signature.

That would be great if we had an engine to compare it to,

- but we don't. - True.

But I narrowed down the size and type of engine,

and by searching traffic cams,

I found three matches in the vicinity at that time.

One of which is registered to Michael Wilson.

Served time and he's a white supremacist.

Card-carrying member of the Herrenvolk Brotherhood.

Currently on parole.

You may get a chance to sport that Nazi tattoo before the day's over yet.

Wonderful. Send us his address. Have his P.O. meet us over there.

Otherwise, I, uh... I want their blessing to check in on him.

Got it.

Hey, have either of you spoken to Hetty today?

- No. Why? - Because I think something's up.

It's Hetty. Something's always up.

She's being called back to Washington,

and Kensi thinks it's about Afghanistan and the White Ghost thing.

Can you guys talk to her whenever you get a chance?

We will. It's gonna have to wait, though.

You wanted to speak with me, Hetty?

Look at this.

Lipstick gun. Ha, ha.

They were all the rage in the '50s.

Cool.

- Must have that. - Mm.

- So is everything okay? - I doubt it.

Fallout from the White Ghost incident.

Should I be worried?

Has that ever helped?

Careful, yes. Vigilant, definitely.

- Leave the worry to your enemy. - Hmm.

I will check in with you every day.

However, should I fail to do so,

follow the enclosed directions

as soon as possible.

- Understood? - What?

- No. - Yes.

I mean, yes, of course, but...

- What's going on? - Wish I knew.

It could just be the new administration flexing their muscles.

Right, and if it's not?

You have your instructions.

- Okay. - All right.

Big hug.

Set.

No answer.

Try again.

It's locked. I'm gonna pick it.

- Unh. You okay? - Yeah.

I think so.

- Some serious firepower. - You think?

Federal agents! Throw down your weapons!

Grenade!

- Son of a bitch. - Kensi, Deeks,

fall back, get ready for them to come out firing.

- Eric, we need backup. - On its way.

A hand grenade?

You told them to throw down their weapons.

Guys, nobody's coming.

We got nothing, nobody coming.

- That Wilson? - It's hard to say.

The guy's in pretty bad shape.

- Is he gonna make it? - Eh, it's doubtful.

Found more bodies inside, including a woman that was shackled to a bed.

May have been executed before we got there.

There was a single gunshot wound to her face.

- This? - Looks like her ID.

Found it in what might have been her purse.

Sent a photo to Eric. Hopefully, he'll get a match at the DMV.

What's shaking, partner?

- Hey. Hi. - Hey.

Hi, hi.

All right, there... Hi.

- Did you guys make this mess? - Yeah, we did.

DEA Agent Talia Del Campo, you remember Agents Callen, Hanna.

- How you doing? - Good.

- Good to see you again. - You too.

- And this is Special Agent Kensi Blye. - Hey.

Ah. You actually do exist. I thought you were an imaginary friend.

Imaginary friend?

You were on another assignment the last time we hooked up.

Partnered, partnered up. She...

We were teamed up. Partnered up.

They teamed us up because of an explosion at a fish market.

Right. Yeah.

What's your connection to Wilson?

The DEA's been following the Herrenvolk Brotherhood.

They move half the meth on the West Coast.

What about coke?

Not traditionally, but they've been forming some new alliances. Why?

Something else we're working on. Nothing big.

Heh. Right. You guys hate to share.

- Something wrong? - Oh, no. Sorry. Uh...

You're just not what I pictured.

Oh, yeah? What did you picture?

I don't know. Uh, I guess the name threw me.

When I heard "Kensi," I guess I just expected Barbie's Malibu cousin.

Thought I'd be seeing a blond California girl.

- Not even close. - I can see that now.

Okay, then. We're gonna run down this lead. We'll, uh...

- We'll let you know what we find. - Yeah. You three should talk.

See if you could find something to help on this.

- You don't want me to come with you? - We're good.

You think it's safe to leave Deeks alone with those two?

Oh... Hell of a lot safer than being here when the claws come out.

All right, why don't you follow us to the boatshed?

Good. I'll grab my car.

- Sure. See you there. - See you.

- She's pretty. - Who? Talia?

- No, Queen Elizabeth. - Heh. Regal, maybe.

I always thought her sister, Princess Margaret, was the hot one. Ow!

- Don't be an idiot. - You brought up the Windsor sisters.

- You don't think she's attractive? - You know what?

I honestly never even noticed.

Ah! God. All right.

Okay, I've not noticed that she's not

- not attractive. - She's beautiful.

You're beautiful.

I don't know why you punched me then. What is that for?

- For good luck. - That's not...

- That's not good luck. - Just get in the car and drive.

Rabbit feet, four-leaf clovers, those are good luck.

Your abusive nature, there's nothing good-lucky about that.

- Anything yet? - Yeah. Got a hit.

- Jennifer Anderson. - Is she a missing person?

- No. - Single?

Uh, married. Husband Charles Anderson, no kids.

Guy owns a yacht-building company in Marina del Rey.

- Successful? - Barely.

That rules out a kidnap for ransom.

Unless the kidnappers didn't know he was struggling.

Or he hired them himself. She have a life-insurance policy?

If she did, it might take me a while to find it.

All right. Let us know when you do.

Yeah.

Last time I was here, you had to carry me to the bathroom.

Remember that?

She had a stonefish spine stuck in her leg.

Right.

- Excuse me, I'm gonna go to the b... - Ahem. I'm gonna go to the b... Please.

- After you. - Oh, no. You go ahead. Please.

- I can wait. - No, no, guests first.

- I insist. - Why don't I just...?

- I'll run to the bathroom. Just go to... - No. You...

- Nope. - Back away. Heh.

You know what? I suggest you go after me.

You see, he refuses to put the toilet seat back down.

And I can't tell you how many times I've had a wet butt thanks to him.

I don't think that means what you think that that means.

What? Sitting on a toilet without looking down?

I mean, that's just plain reckless.

- All right. - Ah!

That is for not telling me how beautiful she is.

You should've seen the last one.

Uh-huh. It all makes sense now. I get it.

What makes sense now?

Your partner is smoking hot,

and you are very clearly madly in love with her.

- So... - No, no. No, no.

I mean, we're very close, honestly,

but it's much more of a brother-and-sister relationship.

Really? So you're telling me that the two of you never tsk-tsk.

- That would be against regulations. - That's not a no.

You know, I wouldn't have let regulations stop me if we were partners.

I'm sorry, just to clarify, if you and I were partners,

or if you and Kensi were partners?

Either, or.

Wow. Gonna go ahead and save that image in my head.

Why don't you tell me why you burned down Michael Wilson's house?

Because that's just how we roll.

What can you tell us about the Herrenvolk Brotherhood

- and these new alliances? - Well,

there are 450 active gangs in Los Angeles,

which translates to about 45,000 gang members.

The irony of the prison system is, once you guys bust them,

all of them end up in the same...

place.

They're forced to interact with each other.

The smarter ones realize that they have a lot more to financially gain

by working together than shooting each other over a street corner.

- Exactly. - Hmm.

So, what about the...? The Herrenvolk, uh, the Brotherhood?

Uh, they're aligning themselves with someone because the...

- They gotta do that. - I'll help you out. We thought

they may have been working with the Brenasolo cartel,

but as of this afternoon, any proof we may have had went up in smoke.

Mm-hm. That makes it...

- Poof. - Mm-hm.

Difficult.

Gentlemen, can I help you?

- Charles Anderson? - Mm-hm.

Special Agent Hanna. Special Agent Callen. NCIS.

We just wanna ask you a few questions about your wife.

What about her?

Well, when was the last time you spoke to her?

Yesterday.

- Not today? - Not yet.

Well, she's in Europe with a friend.

Do you have a number where we could reach her?

Heh. Not until she reaches her hotel.

She's on a train to Istanbul.

What is this about?

Her driver's license was found

at the scene of a shootout and ensuing fire this morning.

A woman's body was recovered.

Had her purse been stolen recently?

Mr. Anderson?

Are you sure...? You sure it was Jen?

We're waiting for a positive ID.

They swore they wouldn't hurt her.

Who did?

They wanted me to design and build them a boat.

- Who? - I don't know.

They never used any names.

Drug dealers.

They were supposed to release her today after their run.

What kind of boat did you build for them?

A submersible.

A submarine?

The cartels have been using narco subs since the '90s.

Originally, they were primitive low-profile semisubmersibles

with just the exhaust and a cockpit out of the water.

But lately, they've been making them bigger and more sophisticated.

Anderson sent the one he built in pieces to be assembled in Colombia.

According to the specs, it's capable of traveling 2,500 miles

and diving to a depth of 60 feet.

Makes it almost impossible to spot.

We estimate that at least a third of Colombia's cocaine export

- is coming in via sub. - But less than 15 percent of them

are actually caught.

So even if they spend a few million on one and lose it,

- it's still worth it. - Oh, absolutely.

The Colombians have found subs being built capable of hauling

200 tons of cocaine.

We're talking a street value approaching the billion-dollar mark.

That's billion with a capital B.

Unfortunately, the only one who would have known where to find this sub

is now clinging to life at the USC Burn Center.

If these guys are bringing in tons of coke,

only a few players can move that kind of weight.

- Somebody's bound to talk. - We can help with that.

I can see what kind of chatter my people have heard.

Eric, go through Charles Anderson's phone records.

They had to have contacted him more than once.

Let me see what I can find.

Sam and I will head back to the Wilson house.

Now that we know what we're looking for, we may get lucky.

What's the status on Hetty?

She's being called back to Washington.

Don't ask me why. I wouldn't tell you if I knew.

I feel like we've had this conversation before.

Those who ignore the past are destined to repeat it.

What does that have to do with Hetty?

- Ask her. - We're asking you.

You got to be very careful, fellas.

Your fairy godmother isn't gonna be around to protect you,

so I suggest you get back to work.

We'll talk later.

You can count on that.

- Callen? Sam? - Where have you been?

I was checking out the two cars you found at Wilson's.

So one is his, but the other

is being leased by Santa Monica College student Ali Hanna.

Uh, no relation, I'm guessing?

Any chance he's a white supremacist?

I don't think so.

Anyway, he's here on a student visa from Cyprus.

Could be one of the bodies we found inside.

- Maybe they jacked him for his car. - That may be.

I looked into the GPS. Lots of bars and strip clubs.

But what's interesting is this address in San Pedro.

It's a wet dock rental for ship repair.

But Anderson's sub was assembled in South America.

And they usually sink them after they unload the cargo offshore.

Might be worth looking into.

We'll check it out.

- Okay. Thanks. - Good job, Nell.

We got eyes on this place, Eric?

No. Sorry.

Who's winning?

Federal agents. Put your hands on your head.

- Anybody else here? - Go to hell.

Don't say anything.

I blame the video games.

You're not gonna believe what we're looking at.

- This is going on my Christmas card. - Eric, we found the sub.

Have Kensi and Deeks meet us here.

- Got it. - Alert the harbormaster,

- the Coast Guard and the Navy. - Copy that.

- You think anyone's on board? - After you.

You know damn well I'm not going on that thing. I'll stay here.

Thought you were wearing your sense-of-adventure pants today.

I don't have a problem with adventure. I'm not a big fan of confined spaces.

Let me help you with those.

Just the carry-on. The briefcase stays with me.

G!

Hey.

- G? - All good.

It's all clear back here.

I think we're a little late. Looks like the drugs have been loaded out.

- Fertilizer? - Somebody else

has other plans for this thing.

This whole thing's a giant torpedo.

Eric, we're gonna need the bomb squad as well.

- Callen, come again? - You're breaking up.

Agent Callen?

I said, we're gonna need the bomb squad!

- Better go up topside. - No.

If anybody's going topside, it's me.

Ahmed?

Ahmed?

They must be on the boat.

Federal agents. Throw down your weapons.

Ali? We have to leave before anyone else shows up.

Cast off.

What about Ahmed?

He's dead. Help Ali.

Go. Hurry.

Eric, do you copy?

Eric, do you copy?

Kensi and Deeks are on the way.

That's not good.

Harbormaster, Coast Guard and Navy

have all been alerted to this vessel and its location.

You cannot escape.

Neither can you.

Sam?

Callen? Can you hear me?

Agent Blye, what the hell is going on?

Guys, we're here. Go.

Callen, Sam, do you hear me?

Callen, Sam, do you hear me?