Original subtitles

I'm Agent Rick Martinez.

Let me be the first to welcome you to the CIA.

This is the story of America's great house of spies.

You've heard of office politics?

Ours come with poison pills and guns.

- Spy trap. - I knew this was gonna be a fiasco.

I've been assigned to a special covert unit,

conceived to go where others can't,

and to do what others won't,

whether the mission's authorized or not.

We each have our own special skills, Martinez.

I lead, Billy charms people,

Casey hurts people, and you translate.

We are the ODS, last of the old-school spies.

* Sync and correction by Mlmlte * * www.addic7ed.com *

Subtitles downloaded from www.OpenSubtitles.org

* *

(cell phone rings)

CASEY: Yeah.

Felipe just called from Bolivia. We're on.

I'm on my way. Got it.

(knocking on door)

Something's come up. We need you to sign this.

RICK: What is it? - It's a contract.

We're prepared to make you a full-fledged partner

in Ink Tech Industries.

What is it?

Our personal corporation.

You guys own an ink company?

BILLY: An international ink company.

From color copiers to home printers,

Ink Tech-- it-it takes the mess

out of all your dry ink needs, right?

All right. Let's get on with it.

Just sign it, Martinez.

I'm not signing anything

until I know what and why I'm signing it.

Ink Tech is a cover company;

we use it for off-the-books operations.

Comes in pretty handy

when we need to travel under CIA radar.

Yeah, you mean to carry out unsanctioned missions.

Is that a whiff of condemnation I just detected?

Yes. Yes, it was.

You're aware that sanctioned missions

require department head approval,

station approval and funding approval.

If your house were on fire,

would you want the firemen to wait

for funding approval before putting it out?

Okay, but before I sign it,

can I at least ask what fire we're putting out?

We've gotten into the business of providing passports

to drug cartel members trying to get into the U.S.

What?

It's a sting operation.

BILLY: Passports get tagged with microchips.

From the moment they try and enter the country,

they get arrested. No fuss: no gunplay.

- That's pretty smart. BILLY: Thank you. You'll often find us

looking for new and clever ways to avoid getting shot at.

Anyhow, I got a call

this morning from our agent in Bolivia.

He just received an order for a dozen passports

from what he believes to be a high-ranking cartel member.

So we're going to Bolivia to check it out.

Welcome aboard. Casey?

You'll have to pack your own toiletries.

I make it a habit never to go into a man's bathroom uninvited.

* *

* *

Hola, hola.

Hey!

Rick, meet Felipe,

our man in Bolivia.

All right, let's see what you have.

These two came in yesterday, wanting passports.

Uh, they are not Los Buscados gang members.

I-I think they are Mexican cartel-- Zetas.

- You said you could provide them? - Yes.

But it will take time.

I told them a week, like you said.

Good. We'll need a few days to get these home, and processed.

Uh, you-you can do the passports here.

BILLY: You don't have the right equipment,

unfortunately, Felipe.

So we're going to have to fly back.

BILLY: It's a very sophisticated process.

But-but... But what?

These-these men... if you don't come back they...

they will not be in a good mood.

Don't worry. We'll be back.

Just stay put and conduct your business as usual.

But there is no business. No one has money to spend.

(speaking Spanish)

I-I used to work for the cartel when-when I was a boy

and I-I was young.

I was small and I could fit through the windows.

No open the doors.

I-I have to do very...

very bad things. And...

my parents, they were very unhappy.

And worried all the time.

But now they are happy with me,

because I fight the cartels, you know...

we fight them together.

That's good. That's good.

Look, we'll be back in a week with the encrypted passports.

Stay close to home and everything's going to be fine.

You understand? Okay, gracias.

CASEY: This photo is from Felipe.

BILLY: Tell me that's not the same guy.

CASEY: I don't know, Billy.

I do. That's him.

Minus some rather disquieting plastic surgery.

I mean this...

The face is all different,

but those are definitely the same peepers.

(door opens) Ah! My loyal baristas,

you bring me coffee.

And in return, I bring you good news.

Our little sting seems to have netted

a Carlos Chupino,

head of the Zeta cartel.

It's not confirmed yet; we still have to run

facial recognition software.

It's him. Eh... I don't know.

It's definitely him.

RICK: Chupino was responsible for the death

of those two DEA agents last year, in Matamoros.

I know his face.

I've studied his file.

You studied his files?

At the time, I was considering applying to be a DEA agent.

My guess is, Chupino's looking

to land a U.S. passport and cross the border;

keep a stateside watch on his trafficking operations.

This is big.

Ms. Ferrer...

what's the status of our internal security check?

The sweep is complete.

All departments are ready to report.

I trust Threat Analysis came up clean?

Every document, every e-mail, every phone call accounted for.

Counter-Terrorism?

Same. Locked up tight as a drum.

Ms. Burns, please give my office advance warning

the next time you want to bring muffins

to a security briefing.

That way, we can have a vacuum standing by.

Mr. Corwin, how did Support Technologies check out?

Good.

Good?

The... security sweep

flagged a possible problem.

We're technically missing a few files,

but I know they're going to turn up.

My department has been crazy lately, with the changeover

to the new operating system.

Plus I got two people out on maternity leave.

These missing files...

do they happen to be top-secret files?

We've quarantined all departments.

- Wireless access points are now closed;

all external contact points choked. - Good.

Shall I notify the FBI?

It is required when we're breached.

I'm aware of that.

Make the call.

We need to get these passports made, pronto.

Picked up a little Spanish in Bolivia.

What's going on back there?

Maybe Michael Dorset's offered to pay for lunch.

(beeps)

(beeps) What's wrong?

Won't work. Hmm.

Try.

(beeps)

Me, too.

(taps on glass)

Can you let us in?

It's exceedingly important.

I can't. There's been a breach. The agency's on full lockdown.

One line only, single file.

Is she really gonna make everyone take a lie-detector test?

Just the lucky few. (beeps)

Report to testing.

Hola, Felipe.

It's me, Michael.

Are you doing the passports?

Yeah, that's why I'm calling.

We've, uh, run into sort of a problem here, on our end.

If we can't resolve it soon,

you're going to have to close up shop and lay low for a while.

No, I-I can't.

They're already here.

Men with guns, from the cartel.

Wh-wh-wait-wait. Are you sure?

They came early...

to watch me.

You've got to come.

Okay, Felipe, look, just hang tight.

I'll get back to you in a minute.

What? Felipe's in trouble.

Chupino's men are watching him.

LURKIN: Next. Keep the line moving.

(beeps)

(beeps)

(beeps)

(beeps)

Report to testing.

Call us when you're free.

FAY: So you're convinced this is Carlos Chupino?

It's him. I can't get these passports ready,

not with the lockdown.

But with your senior specialist clearance...

Yeah... I-I can get them ready.

It's fine.

I'll just need your operations number.

(clears his throat) There isn't one.

This operation is off the books.

Of course it is.

Why would you ever make it easy on me?

It's important, Fay.

I owe you one.

You owe me thousands.

I'll have these ready for you in a couple hours.

But these passports won't be released to you

until Higgins roots out his mole.

I know. We're working on that.

That's the room where the files were taken.

CASEY: FBI's got it sealed up tight till they can investigate.

BILLY: Yeah, but

we're not gonna wait for those buggers, are we?

Are you sure you want me handling her?

Probably best.

We lived together briefly in the '90s.

You're doing a remarkable job, by the way,

handling this devastating breach.

Hmm, in crisis, we do what we have to do.

Hmm.

(elevator bell dings)

After you.

What are you doing?

When this

damn mole hunt's over, would you go for dinner with me?

Um, well... this is unexpected.

Why the sudden interest?

It's not all that sudden.

I've been admiring you from afar

for some time now.

Watched you in the break room.

Noticed how healthy you eat.

No salty or oily snacks dare grace those beautiful lips.

(whooshing)

What's happening? Crikey.

I think your keys must have got stuck in the door.

No! No! No, no! No, no! No!

Here. Put this on.

Hey.

Hi.

Hi.

(sighs)

Didn't expect to see you here.

Well, you should have.

I'm never lucky with those red light, green light buttons.

Relax. The machine isn't that hard to beat.

Yeah?

Yeah, I read somewhere that before you answer the question,

bite the inside of your lip.

Physical pain confuses the reading.

Well, you can have your pain.

I go in the other direction.

Mentally go to the happiest place you can think of

and just... well, just stay there.

Overwhelm the cerebral cortex with pleasure.

Now for me-- well, that's a menage a trois.

Oh, I-I didn't...

I didn't mean the three of us.

Excuse me.

(sighs)

Italian politics.

That interest you?

My father served as U.S. Ambassador in Italy.

Mm. I spent a few years there as a child.

I'm hoping to get back to Rome someday...

as ambassador myself.

Can I ask you a personal question?

Sure.

If your thing is politics, then why do you work here in the CIA?

Um...

it's been said that the keeper of secrets holds all the power,

and power drives our political machine,

so I figured that a short stint

working at the CIA was a smart career move.

My turn.

Why are you here?

Oh, well, I wanted to serve my country.

Help make this world a safer place.

Really?

Really.

Careful, Mr. Martinez. I'm likely to strap you

to that box and ask the question again.

Go ahead. You'd get the same answer.

(laughs quietly)

What?

You're so... pure.

Oh.

I don't know whether to mock you or admire you.

WOMAN: Number 28.

Oh. That's me.

(clearing her throat)

Good luck with the box.

Thanks.

I'll be thinking of you.

You know, um, just to confuse the machine.

(beep)

All right, let's get this done quick.

Hey, guys, aren't we technically

disturbing a crime scene?

There's nothing technical about it.

We are disturbing a crime scene.

BILLY: Why are you suddenly enmeshed

in a moral quandary?

So where do we start?

What does a traitor's work space look like?

Well, I always like to look for

the telltale Quotations From Chairman Mao desk calendar.

MICHAEL: We're not looking for a traitor.

At least not in the normal sense of the word.

According to Fay, the lost files

didn't contain anything important.

Just some airbase development plans

from years ago that never went through.

Certainly nothing that would threaten national security.

This isn't about ideology.

It's about cold, hard cash.

MICHAEL: Someone who either

had money problems, or was just wanting to start living large.

So speak up if you find a drawer full of Rolexes,

or a solid gold paperweight.

BILLY: Unless

the documents were being sold for sacks of kitty litter.

No?

Okay, I'm gonna rule Dorothy out.

Casey, no, that's, uh, that's Kratzert's desk.

Yeah?

Well, he's the guy you said organizes

Thanksgiving dinners for the homeless.

And?

Hardly a guy who'd cash out for the high life.

Martinez, there are two things I don't trust in life--

microwaveable sausage and

excessively virtuous people.

Ladies and gents,

I do believe we have ourselves a winner.

How does a man who drives a crappy little car

and brown-bags his lunch every day for 30 years

suddenly decide to spring for a yacht?

A guy who's selling secrets.

Corwin is our man.

(clears throat)

What's going on?

MICHAEL: Corwin,

we know you took the files.

CASEY: The new boat

on our salary?

RICK: Higgins, the IRS

and the FBI are gonna want you

to account for the money that bought it.

MICHAEL: So we're here to offer you a chance to go to Higgins

right now and admit what you did.

BILLY: And giving yourself up

will greatly increase your chances

of a more lenient sentence.

Hmm.

Forget it.

CASEY: This offer goes away

in about 90 seconds.

If a person had done something like that--

stolen a few unimportant and practically obsolete files

from docking

and then peddled them to countries

that didn't know any better,

that person would be foolish to admit

what he or she had done because

even though it was a victimless crime,

uh, they could be hung.

Or that person could get a fist through his face

if he doesn't start cooperating.

RICK: And the crime is not victimless.

Because we're down, a kid in Bolivia is about

to get killed by drug dealers.

What kid?

His name is Felipe.

He helped us, and now he's going to get executed.

BILLY: So that's something you might want

to think about next time

you're shaking up the pitchers of martinis on your boat.

MICHAEL: Corwin,

come forward and make it easier on yourself.

(sighs)

You work your ass off for 30 years, you grind away...

The files. Did you act alone?

Did I act alone? Of course I acted alone.

That's what this job is all about--

alone, alone and more alone.

No appreciation and no money!

(sighs)

When it rains, the sunroof in my car leaks.

I keep a pan sitting in the passenger seat

to catch the water.

My whole drive to work...

Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping!

Could have gone in the private sector,

made three times the money, but, oh, no.

You can unlock the door.

I'm not running anywhere.

Martinis? You want to know the funny thing?

The bottom of the boat never even touched the water.

I can't even afford the marina fees.

(garbled police radio transmission)

Hey. What's happening?

Corwin's confessed to Higgins.

The lockdown's been lifted.

(garbled radio transmission)

You know, generally speaking,

I'm not a huge fan of greedy traitors,

but you got to hand it to the treacherous bastard.

You know, he did the right thing.

Yeah. What about Felipe?

Still not answering his phone.

We need to get down there now and find out why.

(beep)

Mercer, please tell me the passports are ready.

Yes... but...

Can I assume that I am looking at the officers

of Ink Tech Industries?

Your own private company.

My, my.

I guess our security sweep netted more than a breach.

It was off the books, I admit it,

but you have to let us finish this.

I do?

And all this time,

I was under the impression that I was your boss.

Sir, if I may... You break the rules

whenever you see fit,

and think nothing of it because you produce results.

Well, dishonesty is

a slippery slope, gentlemen.

Ultimately, it subverts the agency.

Look no further than Operative Corwin.

We would never stoop that low.

Oh, I know you won't,

because I have got my eye on all of you.

I want Carlos Chupino behind bars.

And one more thing.

This little corporation of yours

just went public.

What the hell happened here?

They torched the place.

RICK: Does Felipe know

you were surveilling him?

What do you think?

Okay, camera's working,

so we should be able to see what happened to him in living color.

(clicks mouse)

We going to let him watch this?

What?

You ever witnessed a cartel killing?

No.

You may want to keep it that way.

I'm fine.

(clicks mouse)

There he is.

What's he doing?

It was Felipe who burned down the store.

Why?

Panic-- he's covering his tracks.

I got it. (phone line ringing)

Felipe, it's Billy.

So we're back in Bolivia,

we're in your store-- what's left of it, anyway--

and I think we need a little sit-down soon,

so don't make us come looking for you, you blighter.

Blighter?

Yeah, blighter.

It means a man without honor, you know, a rascal.

It's old King's English.

English is Felipe's second language.

Poncy old King's English doesn't even register

on his radar.

He probably thinks you just threatened him, genius.

That would be unfortunate.

(phone rings)

Felipe.

Naysayer,

meaning "damn dark cloud of a man."

Where art thou?

The men watching me left, and went somewhere.

Maybe to get the money, I don't know.

It was my chance to run.

So basically you killed the mission.

But you still have the passports.

MICHAEL: Yeah, but the moment

that Chupino's men step inside the store

and see that you torched it, they'll spook.

These are useless now.

I'm sorry.

If you could have waited just three more hours...

I will give them the passports.

I'll explain the fire was an accident.

I'll make them believe.

BILLY: We're not going to let you do that, are we, Felipe?

That would be crazy.

It's a bit risky now after your little bonfire.

I'm the only one of us who speaks fluent Spanish.

We don't have to abandon the sting operation.

I'll do it.

I'll give out the passports.

(tires screeching)

(speaking Spanish)

Your accent-- you're not from here.

You're from the north.

I moved to the United States with my family.

Here.

Take the passports.

No, no, no, no, keep the money.

I don't need it.

I don't want it.

(tires screeching)

Martinez.

Yeah.

You hit?

Yeah, it's okay.

It's just my leg-- it's not that bad.

Come on... Michael?

(groans)

Felipe, where is the nearest hospital?

There is a small clinic, but you have to travel to Asunta.

It's about an hour north.

Okay.

(Rick screams)

Casey!

How you doing with the pain, Martinez?

It's... getting worse, a lot worse.

The bullet hit the bone.

Here, give him this.

I don't, I don't like candy.

It's not candy, it's morphine.

Morphine covered

with candy.

Suck slowly; it needs to last an hour.

Feel any pain now?

No.

You want a lick?

No, no, I'm good, thanks.

Huh?

Anybody want a lick?

Michael, you want a...?

Easy, buddy. Michael!

(tires screeching)

(gasps)

He okay?

RICK: What's going on?

Are we there yet?

(exhales)

The tie rod is shot.

This car isn't going anywhere.

This damn satellite phone is worthless.

Well, of course it is.

It's like we're on the moon out here.

Well, we can't sit out here and do nothing.

You're going to need to try and stitch him up.

That wound is too deep.

I'd have to cut him open to stitch him up,

and then he could bleed out.

I can't do anything to help him.

I-I can't.

What?

How far is the clinic?

15 and a half miles, exactly.

Well, I'd better get started then.

Started what?

Sit tight.

I'll be back with a doctor.

Michael.

Michael.

How long's it been?

45 minutes.

Okay,

so that's eight minutes a mile, 15 miles.

Should take him about two hours,

so he's almost halfway there.

Assuming the clinic is still open,

or that he wasn't eaten by an alligator.

RICK: I can hear you guys.

You know,

if this is it, if this is really it, it's okay.

Rubbish.

That's the lollipop talking.

You're fine.

No, I'm not that out of it.

Let me tell you a story.

Once upon a time in Scotland many years ago...

I was driving my uncle's Rover P6--

which is a great car, by the way...

(chuckles weakly)

...from Aberdeen to Lossiemouth.

So there I was, 2:00 in the morning,

middle of nowhere, on my own,

when bam...

I hit a cow that was just standing

in the middle of the road.

So there was nothing I could do but roll up

the windows, lock the doors,

and wait till morning for help.

Anyway, I was sound asleep, 4:00 in the morning...

...and I noticed the car gently rocking

from side to side,

so I raised up

and I peeked out the window...

and there was a pack of wild dogs

tearing the carcass to pieces from out under the vehicle.

What possible relevance could this story have

to our present situation?

That things could be worse.

We could be surrounded by wild dogs.

(chuckles)

(panting)

(static crackling)

Would you please stop doing that?

I'm stressed.

Music helps me focus.

Turn... it... off.

Where are we?

We're nearly there. Oh.

I mean it. I've got to have some music.

Well, you can forget it

if you think I'm going to bloody serenade you.

(clicks tongue)

CASEY: * It was Christmas in prison *

* And the food was real good *

* We had turkey and pistols *

* Carved out of wood *

* I dream of her always *

* Even when I don't dream *

* Her name's on my tongue *

* And her blood's in my stream *

*

* Eternity *

* Old Mother Nature's got nothing on me *

* Come to me, run to me *

* Come with me now *

* We're rolling, my sweetheart *

* We're flowing, by God *

* Wait a while, eternity *

* Old Mother Nature's got nothing on me *

* Come to me, run to me *

* Come with me now *

* We're rolling, my sweetheart *

* We're flowing, by God *

* Come to me, run to me *

* Come with me now *

* We're rolling, my sweetheart *

* We're flowing, by God. *

(applause)

And so it is

with great honor I present this commendation

for heroism in the line of duty.

It's a reminder

of the brave work the men and women of the CIA

do every day in service of their country.

This is just what the agency needed, Ms. Ferrer.

A real shot in the arm after the Corwin incident.

A morale booster. I couldn't agree more.

What are the latest numbers?

They picked up Chupino at Miami International two hours ago.

So that makes nine and counting.

You made a good call,

letting them finish what they started in Bolivia.

"Finish" being the operative word.

Make certain that their corporation

is unincorporated permanently by end of day.

Here. Let me help you.

Oh, thank you.

Appreciate it.

Hey. Where's my plaque?

Our very own homegrown hero.

We're so proud of you.

Thanks, but, um...?

The plaque will never leave the building.

But they will allow you to visit it from time to time.

MICHAEL: This is the CIA, Martinez.

Publicity is frowned upon.

And the pictures?

You going to join us for that beer, Martinez?

Nah. I'm gonna stay and get caught up on my e-mails.

You should come.

We're planning to spin some ideas

for a new off-the-books corporation.

I think we ought to go into publishing.

I've always wanted to run my own magazine empire.

I propose we become importers of finely-crafted Celtic ties

or Jamaican rum.

One gets me home. The other to Jamaica.

Either way, I am happy, you know?

You all right?

Yeah.

You know, I was just thinking.

To be great at our jobs requires invisibility.

I can see how toiling away at your desk for 30 years,

being anonymous, could make someone like Corwin

crazy enough to sell secrets.

The smart men don't join the Agency

for the "attaboys."

Or the parades.

That said, I do love a good parade.

Yeah, but how do you do it?

How do you stay sane when the risks we take

and the work we do never get recognized?

I can't speak for the others,

but I consider myself a shadow warrior.

And shadow warriors hate the daylight.

I think the question was, "What makes us sane?"

Not insane.

Hey, guys.

I never said thanks.

You know, for saving my life.

And there you have it.

A dollop of praise.

The common cure for insanity.

Hey. Hey.

How's the leg?

Good.

I just have to stay off of it for about a week.

Are you able to drive?

Yeah. The right leg's fine.

Then can I ask a small favor?

Sure.

Can you follow me home?

Uh, excuse me?

Well, I've had this nagging feeling

that someone's been tailing me.

It's weird, huh? I'm sure it's just the result

of spending far too much time with Director Higgins.

I mean, the man practically sweats paranoia.

Anyway, um, would you mind?

No, no, of course not.

Good.

(elevator bell dings)

(cell phone ringing)

Hello?

Hey. Anyone behind me?

Just me.

That's comforting.

So, what does it feel like to get shot?

There's nothing particularly

special about getting shot.

I disagree.

I've never known anyone that's been shot before.

It makes you more interesting, quite frankly.

So I have to get shot in order for you to find me interesting?

(laughs) No.

I've always found you interesting.

In a sweet way.

A little confession?

I was absolutely boy-crazy in high school.

College, too, for that matter.

I was young, wild.

And sometimes, when I look at you,

I flash back to those days.

I don't know why that is.

Maybe it's because I never took the time

to date a sweet guy like you.

Anything?

Huh?

No one following?

Uh, no. Just me.

Good.

My house is on the right.

I-I feel a bit silly doing this.

I don't mind, really.

Then maybe we could do it again tomorrow night.

Just to be doubly sure I'm not being followed.

Whatever you need.

Good.

It's a date.

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