Original subtitles

(LAUGHING)

-I cannot believe they lost. -I can't believe you gave me six points.

So what do you got for me today?

-Just these drums here. -JEB: All righty, sweet cheeks.

(BACKING-UP SIGNAL BEEPING)

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!

(JEB COUGHING)

Oh, man, I'm going to be cleaning up this mess for days.

What the hell is that?

TIM: Should I hose him off, or...

No, the best thing is for you to do nothing.

Okay, Agent McGee?

Just secure the area and wait for us to get there.

Then I'll wait.

Okay.

Case agent at Norfolk sounds pretty green.

(SIGHING)

(TELEPHONE RINGING)

-You look like hell. -A woman loves to hear that, Tony.

If you're coming down with something, don't sit next to me in the truck.

-There's an upside to having a cold. -You want to tell the doctor about it?

You guys ready to go?

All set. Yeah.

And Ducky and Jackson are already on their way.

Oh, God.

Oh, God. I'm sorry.

What do you put in your coffee?

Coffee.

Okay, I'll just go down the hall, and get you another cup.

That's not coffee.

Meet you in the truck.

I've never experienced Gibbs without his morning coffee.

We're in uncharted waters here, Kate.

DUCKY: Yeah, there are multiple purposes

for hydrofluoric acid on a naval base.

It's most commonly used to surface-clean metal.

It's highly corrosive, readily penetrates human skin,

destroying soft tissue and decalcifying bone.

And from the look of this fellow, I'd say he wasn't in that drum very long.

I'd venture less than 24 hours.

The worst case of acid indigestion I've ever seen.

(SEAGULLS CAWING)

Hey, better get Michael Jackson out of here before he ralphs.

Come on, McGee, help me take measurements for the sketches.

GIBBS: He wearing crackerjacks, Doc? DUCKY: Yeah, definitely enlisted.

(CAMERA SHUTTER CLICKING)

We're not going to get fingerprints, but on the left forearm

a bit of skin attached and some discoloration.

-A birthmark? -Possibly.

I'll be able to tell more when I get him home.

KATE: The Armed Forces DNA registry can get us a match.

They're backlogged. I wouldn't count on anything for at least 48 hours.

(PANTING)

I've heard stories about Special Agent Gibbs.

Only half of them are true. The trick is figuring out which half.

GIBBS: With inspection procedures as tight as they are,

probably murdered on base.

(PROTESTERS CHANTING)

They didn't get him past us in the trunk of a car.

Which means he had to be murdered by someone with clearance.

-Yes, sir. -Anyone reported missing?

PROTESTERS: Save the whales! Stop sonar testing!

We had a UA seaman last week, but he was picked up at his home.

Whale huggers?

Yes, sir. They've been bugging us for weeks.

Why don't you just shoot them?

-Save the whales! Stop sonar testing! -I've been tempted.

PROTESTERS: Save the whales!

We have to keep the crime scene under guard until it's released by Gibbs.

I'll let security know.

Gibbs wants NCIS to remain in control.

So, I should stay here?

We'll get you relieved as soon as we can.

Okay.

-Why are you making him stay here? -Because I can.

That is complete abuse of authority.

Lighten up. He's new. He expects to be abused. It goes with the territory.

This isn't pledge week at Sigma Chi, Tony.

Bet you were a lot of fun in college.

I was a lot of fun in college.

Really?

Fortunately, your facial bone structure is intact.

With these photos, Abby will be able to build

a computer model.

Not a model you'd want on your mantelpiece,

but she'll do the best she can.

Abby's getting Gibbs on the line.

-Would you? -Sure.

-Good morning, guys. -Where's Ducky?

-Right here, Jethro. -Got a name?

We're good, but we're not that good.

Well, what do you got that's good, Doc?

Death was from blunt force injury.

There's a fracture to the rear of the skull.

That's it?

No. Remember that discoloration on the forearm

we thought might be a birthmark?

Well, it wasn't.

I digitally enhanced it. Watch.

(COMPUTER BEEPING)

Looks like a Rorschach test.

It's part of a tattoo that was blurred by the acid.

-TONY: What is that? -That is the tail of a dolphin.

Our victim was a submariner.

DUCKY: Well, it would be a good guess.

You know, the history of tattooing is fascinating.

-Egyptian... -How many subs in port?

I'm copied on the daily movement report.

...preserved mummy. A woman of Thebes,

yes, whose tomb indicates that she was...

Interesting filing system, McGee.

...a priestess...

Three Los Angeles-class attack subs in port at the moment,

another in dry dock.

There were five, but the Philadelphia left at 0600.

Get me copies of the ships' alpha rosters.

I'm on it.

Around the pelvic region, below the navel.

Now, this nonrepresentational geometric style of tattooing...

What if the body was put into acid, not only to dispose of it, but to...

But to make certain that it couldn't be identified?

Maybe the murderer didn't want us to know the submariner was dead.

-Maybe. -Agent Gibbs. The alpha rosters.

Everyone on these sub crews is accounted for.

-Including the Philadelphia? -Yes, sir.

A submariner is dead, but none are missing.

And the dead man's identity was removed.

Someone took his place on one of those subs.

An impostor?

Let's pay a visit to the submarine squadron commander.

You'll wanna avoid Captain Veitch.

What?

Well, I met him once before.

He can be very difficult.

And you don't think that I can be difficult?

I'm sure you can, sir.

You're telling me somebody killed one of my sub crew members

to take his place?

I think there's a very real possibility.

Not on my watch, Agent Gibbs.

Can you take that chance, Captain?

It would have to be someone new.

(MAN CHATTERING ON P.A.)

Humour me.

All right.

I'll beef up security around the boats in port.

Have every new crew member's [.D. card

checked against their service record.

What about the Philadelphia?

-She's a day out. -I think you should call her back.

Agent Gibbs, the Philadelphia is en route to join

a NATO exercise in the Atlantic,

and your theory is highly speculative,

if not preposterous.

I'm not about to bring her back.

Then send Special Agent Todd and me to rendezvous with her

and interview the new crew members.

Well, the presence of a woman aboard a submarine

is a tremendous inconvenience.

-You know that. -I do.

Don't you have another agent that you can take with you?

I do.

Kate, step out.

(MAN CHATTERING ON P.A.)

(DOOR CLOSES)

-I'm glad you understand. -I don't.

Excuse me?

Don't tell me how to run an investigation.

Yeah, I've got other agents who could do the job,

but none as well as Special Agent Todd.

Formerly, she was attached to the president's Secret Service detail,

trained as a profiler.

I don't care what she was trained for. She's a woman,

and females cannot be deployed on a submarine.

MAN OVER P.A.: Chief Patterson, report to machine room.

Chief Patterson, report to machine room.

What is this, Victorian England?

The men with their cigars and brandy,

while the ladies sip tea in another room?

I'm more qualified for this investigation than Tony.

To replace me because I shave my legs and not my face is unconscionable

and certainly not in the best interest of the case.

-You claustrophobic? -No.

Good!

I'm going?

Don't forget to wax.

I think I'm more excited to dive on a nuclear sub

than I was flying Air Force One.

See if you're still as excited by the time we get there.

Special Agent Gibbs, Special Agent Todd, welcome to the Enterprise.

Sorry your stay's so short. Your helo's standing by.

How do we get from the frigate to the submarine, swim?

Close.

I don't see a submarine.

You see it now?

Deck is clear. Hatch secure.

Submerge the boat. Make depth 250 feet.

Submerge the boat. Make our depth 250 feet.

Chief of the watch on the 1-MC. Dive, dive.

(HORN BLARING)

Dive, dive, dive.

250 feet and passing.

Welcome aboard the Philadelphia. I'm Commander Peters.

This is my XO, Lieutenant Commander Akron.

Sir.

Special Agent Gibbs. Special Agent Todd.

AKRON: Can I help you with that, ma'am?

No, I'm good.

Why don't we go to the wardroom? XO, take the con.

Aye, aye, Skipper. COB, I have the con.

I've quarantined the five men as requested. They said you'd fill me in.

Fill me in, Special Agent Gibbs.

One of those men may not be who he says he is.

I find that hard to believe.

A body was found at Norfolk.

It was made unidentifiable, possibly on purpose.

We have good reason to believe that he was a submariner.

Fifteen of your crew are new.

Four have been eliminated by dental x-rays.

Six can be ruled out because of ethnic origin or body type.

That's it?

Your conclusions are based on supposition.

Strong suppositions.

I interviewed every one of those men when they boarded

and examined their personnel files before they ever set foot on this boat.

We would like that same opportunity, Skipper.

You'll get your interviews, Agent Gibbs,

but you need to understand

this boat's about to commence an ASW exercise.

Anti-submarine warfare.

Enemy sub tries to infiltrate the carrier battle group.

We're tasked with intercepting and destroying it. Theoretically, anyway.

-One of our subs plays the enemy? -The Augusta.

Her skipper and I have a bottle of Stoli riding on who wins.

So you can see why I want those five men back at their duty stations, ASAP.

Well, we have a better reason for keeping one of those men

out of their duty stations, Skipper.

I'd like the COB, for security purposes,

to keep the men from talking to each other.

That's affirmative.

(DOOR CLOSES)

COB.

-The chief of the boat. -Thank you.

Welcome.

(GOTH ROCK MUSIC PLAYING ON STEREO)

It's coming along.

Yeah, looks like he's going to be kind of a hunk. He's got a good, strong chin.

I agree. Sort of Cary Grant-ish.

I was thinking more Hugh Grant-ish.

(CHUCKLES)

Any luck with his stomach contents?

Well, there's good news and bad news.

I hate it when you play this game, Abby. All right, let's get it over with.

His last meal was a Big Mac and fries.

Well, probably half the base had that for lunch.

I was hoping you'd come up with something a little more exotic.

Tandoori, perhaps. And the good news?

I know what's in the special sauce.

(CHUCKLES)

(KNOCKING AT DOOR)

Enter.

-Petty Officer Drew? -Yes, sir.

-Have a seat. -Yes, sir.

Would you give us your right thumbprint, please?

That would be your other right thumb, Petty Officer.

(CHUCKLING NERVOUSLY) Sorry, sir. I'm a little nervous.

It says here you're from Boston.

-South Boston, actually, sir. -There's a difference?

Well, if you're from Boston there is.

You just, joined this ship from the...

The Topeka, sir.

SSN 754. Out of San Diego.

Did you request sonar?

Yes, ma'am. I talked to the recruiter about it.

I've always been into electronics.

I built my own guitar amp when I was a kid.

You enlisted when you were 19, Petty Officer Thompson?

Right out of high school, sir.

Nineteen. That's old to graduate high school.

I got mono. Was home my junior year. They put me back.

May I ask what this is about?

No.

I need your thumbprint, please.

-What'd they ask you? -Stupid stuff. About my high school.

Thompson!

You heard the man. There is no discussing your interview.

Aye, aye, COB.

Petty Officer Thompson was lying about graduating high school at 19.

He paused and looked to his left.

Usually means the response is fabricated.

If he would've looked to his right, he'd be recalling

-a memory. -A memory.

You've had profile training.

What I've had is about a thousand interviews.

After awhile you start picking up on things.

Why would Thompson lie about his age?

I don't know. Why did Seaman Riggs lie about being married?

Why did Petty Officer Drew lie about a year in college?

Well, maybe Riggs is secretly married and Drew never finished a full year.

Everybody has something to lie about.

Which means we have nothing.

PETERS: Sonar, still no sign of Augusta?

No joy, sir.

PETERS: Let's come about for another pass.

Aye, aye, sir.

I understand you've completed your interviews.

-For now. -I need them at their duty stations.

I'm concerned about the safety of your boat, Skipper.

Your concern will be noted.

XO, have the COB return the men to duty.

Aye, aye, Skipper.

How could someone harm this boat from the inside?

We're vulnerable to any number of things.

Chlorine introduced to the re-circulated air could be fatal to the crew.

Saltwater in the battery compartment could cause an explosion.

The missiles and torpedoes are obvious dangers.

I could go on, but what's the point?

The point is that one of those men may be an intruder.

I don't believe that to be the case. I trust every man on this crew.

I'll make arrangements to get you back to the carrier.

We'll leave, Skipper,

when we're done. Not before.

You were right, Abby. He's quite the handsome fellow.

Yeah.

Unfortunately, he doesn't look like any of the guys that Gibbs suspects.

Could our leader's golden gut be wrong this time?

I'm going to e-mail this dude to Tony,

and see if anyone at Norfolk recognizes him.

(FAX PHONE RINGING)

-ABBY: Do you see it yet? -Yeah, it's coming through.

So you getting lonely down there by yourself, hon?

I'm not alone. I'm with Special Agent McGee. Say hello.

Hey, McGee. How's your SIG hanging?

Got to go, Abs.

(MAN CHATTERING ON P.A.)

-What's she look like? -Who?

Abby. Sounds cute.

Not your type.

Well, how do you know that?

Have you ever had the slightest urge to tattoo your buttocks, McGee?

I don't think so.

Then we need never speak of her again.

Make copies. Circulate them around the base.

See if anyone recognizes the guy.

(SONAR CHIRPS)

-I've acquired a target, sir. -PETERS: Distance?

-6,100 yards. -Bearing?

-035 relative. -PETERS: Depth?

450 feet.

Helm, steer 095. 15 degrees down bubble.

Aye, sir. Helm 095. 15 degrees down bubble.

The fingerprints we took match those in the service records.

If there's an impostor, it's not one of the five that we interviewed.

It has to be.

-What if he's on another boat? -This is the one that makes sense.

The killer didn't just dump the body,

he removed identifying features in case it was found.

If it were found, he knew it'd take between 24 and 48 hours

for AFDIL to make a DNA match.

Whatever he was planning to do, it was going to be in that timeframe.

In that time frame, the Philadelphia was the only boat going out.

-Where'd you get the records? -Personnel office, Norfolk.

What if someone altered the service record

before we or Commander Peters got it?

Meaning that the impostor worked in the personnel office.

Or has an accomplice.

Sonar signature looks like the Augusta. 6,100 yards.

Target bearing?

Still 035 relative. We're in his baffle, Skipper.

-Range? -6,000 yards and closing, Skipper.

I got you, Jimmy.

I need to contact NCIS headquarters now.

DREW: Range to target: 5,800 and closing.

No can do, Agent Gibbs. I'm about to win a bottle of Stoli.

Weps, get me a firing solution.

Your bottle of vodka's going to have to wait, Skipper.

I need to talk to headquarters now.

We'd have to break contact and go to periscope depth.

Whatever it takes.

I'm not terminating this exercise

SO you can have a chat with the folks back home.

Let me give this to you straight, Skipper. There's a threat on this boat.

It's a real threat. It's not a game.

-XO. -Sir?

Make your depth 150 feet.

Sonar, see if you can hang on to it. Take us up to periscope depth.

Aye, aye, sir. Make our depth 150 feet.

Slow to all ahead two-thirds. Stand by to go to periscope depth.

I'll give you two minutes, Special Agent Gibbs.

They're patching through to your man. Two minutes.

COB, why'd we stop the attack on the Augusta?

Cops had to make a phone call.

It's got something to do with them interrogating us, doesn't it?

No. Why would you think that, Petty Officer?

(PHONE RINGS)

-DiNozzo. -Tony.

Hi, Boss. Did you find the guy?

Nope. Could be any one of our five.

What's your famous gut say?

For you to find out who had access to the Philadelphia's service records.

-Think they were altered? -Good guess.

-It wasn't a guess. -Then why'd you ask?

I didn't ask. It was a

definitive statement.

(GOTH ROCK MUSIC PLAYING ON STEREO)

I have good news and bad news, Abby.

(SIGHS)

-I hate payback. -Which first?

Bad.

No DNA matches on our victim. The AFDIL computers are still down.

Okay. Good.

I know why Hugh Grant didn't match any of the photos.

Okay, you got your payback. Tell me why.

Gibbs thinks one of the service records was altered.

-So all of this was a waste of time? -Au contraire.

All we have to do is get photos of those five crew members

from an independent source.

That'll take longer than a DNA match.

I have photographs of every cricket team I ever played on

from second form all the way through up to the upper sixth.

You see, in our last year, we made the division finals.

Grant you, I was only on the reserve.

I just know that there's a point here somewhere.

All ships have a crew photograph.

Yes.

Yes! Yes!

I'll download crew photos from websites

of the five suspects' previous deployments.

You should have seen me in my whites. I was rather handsome,

even if I do say so myself.

When a sailor reports to Norfolk, we download their service file,

update it if necessary, and make a hard copy for the sailor's command.

You update their photos?

Only on re-enlistments and significant promotions.

Most updates are performance evaluations, awards, marital status.

So your department can change anything in the service record?

-Yes. -Fingerprints?

We could, but why would we?

Who handles submarine command?

Everyone. We don't assign work based on specific commands.

And how many people work here, Lieutenant?

Four officers, 12 enlisted and 47 civilians.

That's a lot of people.

They don't think so. We've been swamped since Iraq

with all the transfers in and out of here.

So you wouldn't know who handled crew replacement for a specific ship?

No, but I could ask. They might remember.

They might remember, but I don't think they'd tell us.

Why not?

I promise to tell you someday.

Can I have a copy of your personnel roster?

As long as you keep your promise.

Jonesy, I need a copy of our personnel roster.

JONESY: Right away, Lieutenant.

-Sir? -Yeah?

May I ask the Lieutenant a question?

McGee, you don't need my permission to ask a question,

as long as you're not asking her on a date.

No, sir. Not my type.

Lieutenant, Special Agent McGee has a question. McGee?

I was just wondering if anyone had quit in the last few days.

As matter of fact, Joshua Fox quit two days ago.

-How long did he work here? -A little over a year.

He transferred into personnel a month ago.

Could you get us his address?

Thanks. It's on the roster.

Thank you.

-You're learning, McGee. -Thank you, sir.

-Anything? -No, sir.

I can't find him.

Damn NCIS.

-Drink. -What's with all the water?

-You got to hydrate on a submarine. -All you've had me doing is hydrating.

Drink it.

So how's your bladder?

What?

The COB's at the end of the passageway,

trying to keep an eye on us.

You got to distract him.

You're going to need help working the toilet.

-Gibbs... -Trust me, Kate.

On a submarine, it's a very complicated mechanism.

Is that why you've been shoving water down my throat for the past hour?

I want to check out Petty Officer Thompson.

Well, you don't have to drown me. You could just ask.

Come on.

Hydrating's good for you. Go on, un-hydrate.

-Never heard it called that before. (WHISPERING) Go on.

Commander Peters said I could use the facilities in his quarters, COB.

Yes, ma'am. This way.

Well, either no one's home or not answering.

What should we do?

Get inside, look around.

Then we'll need a command search authorization.

(SIGHS)

You know, this is civilian property, sir.

We'll have to go to a local judge to get a search warrant.

Or play football.

Go deep.

Go deep.

Oh, look at him! He breaks free! Go, man, go!

He's looking for McGee.

It's a play-action pass. He's deep in the pocket.

He can't find McGee. He's covered! He's in the open!

He's broken clear.

He's still got it.

-This is breaking and entering! -No. That was breaking.

This is entering.

-We going to need a torque wrench. -I'll get it.

-You trouble me, Thompson. -How's that, sir?

I don't think you were completely honest with us.

Yes, I was.

I think you lied about high school.

Why would you do that?

-The truth, sir? -Oh, yeah. That's always the best.

I missed a year of high school ‘cause I was in juvenile detention.

My record was expunged, but I was afraid if the navy found out,

I'd never see the inside of a sub.

AKRON: Agent Gibbs.

You were asked to stay in the wardroom.

-You can go back to work, Petty Officer. -Aye, aye, COB.

Busted.

-I didn't appreciate that little stunt. -Cut us a little slack. No harm, no foul.

No, sir. The skipper's cooperated with you every step of the way.

Chief of the boat knows the crew better than the skipper.

You bothered by any of the men we questioned?

We've only been out one day, Agent Gibbs.

I make it a practice not making snap judgments.

It could be something little, seemingly inconsequential.

Did you get a strange vibration about any of them?

No. But if I do get any vibrations,

they'll come to you through the skipper.

(DOOR CLOSES)

Do people react that way because we're NCIS,

or do you just have that effect on them?

I like to think it's me.

I downloaded crew photos from the ships our suspects served on,

and I got nada.

No one looks like him in any of them.

-I don't know what to do now. -Absent a miracle,

we'll just have to wait for the DNA report.

I don't think this guy's ever cooked in his kitchen.

No plates, no utensils, nothing.

It's all store-bought junk.

There's not one personal item here, not even a phone.

Well, maybe he used his cell phone.

What's that?

It's a DSL line. It's running from this jack to

under the bookcase.

All right.

Slide this towards you on three. One, two, three.

(GUN CLICKING)

(ROARING)

TONY: Guess flying toasters would have been too much to ask for.

Let's see what we have here.

You've taken computer classes.

Master's in computer forensics, MIT.

I see.

Well, he's definitely an eco-terrorist.

He's looking for retribution for the whales.

(SIGNAL BEEPING)

-Oh, this isn't good. -Why?

Isopropene methylphosphonofluoridate.

B.S. in biomedical engineering, Johns Hopkins.

You?

Ohio State, phys-ed.

I was a jock.

-What is that in my language? -Sarin gas.

Well, he's planning on introducing it

into a submarine's air conditioning system.

Doesn't say how.

-It wouldn't take a lot, would it? -Must have been a prototype.

If it was filled with sarin gas, and distributed through the air system?

It could Kill the entire crew.

Skipper, we have an incoming emergency action message

on the low-frequency receiver, sir.

"Impostor onboard. No I.D.

"Threat of sarin gas to air conditioning system.

"Take immediate action."

Have Engineering shut down the air conditioning system and tear it apart.

And get those agents up here now.

Aye, aye, sir.

Surface! Surface! Surface! Emergency blow!

Emergency blow! Surface, aye!

(KLAXON BLARING)

What's happening?

Emergency blow.

Skipper wants you. But hang on a moment.

-Wow! -Yeah, that's what they all tell me.

I remembered that I was absent

the day the science club took our picture.

And that made me think,

"What if one of the five missed his crew picture?"

Petty Officer Drew.

He was absent the day the Topeka took their photo.

Where'd you get this picture?

I downloaded it off the sub's online newsletter.

Drew is a sonar operator on the Philadelphia.

No, he's not. He's in my cold storage.

Someone else is sitting at his sonar station.

Sir, request permission to make a head call.

Emergency blow loosen you up, Petty Officer Drew?

All right, Martin, relieve Drew.

Open all hatches.

Break out emergency breathing gear.

Aye, aye, sir. Open all hatches. Break out emergency breathing gear.

Aye, sir. Ensign, 1-MC, all emergency...

-PETERS: Any idea who the hell he is? -We're working on it.

Skipper, we've got another EAM coming in, sir.

Where is Petty Officer Drew?

He had to visit the head, sir.

Hey, we matched the prints you faxed.

Former Petty Officer Second Sean Travis.

-Sonar operator? - That's right.

Spent a couple of tours on attack subs

before he was dishonourably discharged.

Was he hooked up with the protesters outside the gates?

The FBI's checking that, but they think he and Joshua Fox

were part of some small three- or four-man cell

of radical eco whale freaks.

-Did you get Fox and the rest of them? -Not yet.

What's going on down there?

We're on the surface.

-I guess Gibbs hung up. -Good guess.

Secure from emergency breathing.

Engineer's gone through the air conditioning system.

Looks like he never got his canister into it.

It's somewhere on this boat.

We'll search, but if it's as small as you say it is,

it could be hidden just about anywhere.

Well, if the canister remains sealed, it shouldn't be a problem.

Oh, we'll tear the boat apart if we have to,

when we get to Norfolk. XO, prepare to dive.

Aye, aye, sir.

We're going back down?

We're 15 knots faster submerged than on the surface.

I'd leave the air conditioning system offline as a precaution.

I fully intend to. It's going to get hot in here.

We're used to taking heat.

(GOTH ROCK MUSIC PLAYING ON STEREO)

(GASPS)

Hiya, Abby.

-While the boss is away, huh? -I earned my paycheck today.

That's what I heard.

Exhibit "A."

Any idea how it works?

So what's agent McGee like?

Like most newbies.

Quiet, green, gullible.

Bi.

I don't think so.

No, Tony, the canister.

It has a bi-metal trigger.

Yeah, so it's turned on by either... Either what?

Hot or cold.

This one digs cold.

When the temperature drops below five degrees centigrade,

the trigger releases whatever's in the canister.

-What is in the canister? -Sarin gas.

Nasty.

So what's cold enough to trigger it on a sub?

Fridge, freezer, air-conditioner.

Is agent McGee cute?

Can a guy be cute to you without body art?

Sure.

I'm not a snob.

KATE: How can you drink coffee when it's 100 degrees?

It helps me think.

What's bugging you?

-Travis not releasing the sarin. -He never had a chance.

And he was quarantined or on duty

until the air conditioning system was shut down.

What was his backup plan?

-He would have had one. -What makes you so sure?

This whack-job knew he was going to die

as soon as he released the gas.

Why commit suicide before he could do it?

He knew we were onto him. I mean, like you said, he was a whacko.

(KNOCKING AT DOOR)

Yeah. Enter.

Courtesy of the skipper, sir, ma'am.

There's Rocky Road, cookies and cream, chocolate, butter pecan,

and the captain's personal favourite, pumpkin.

Pumpkin?

Do you think we have enough, Steward?

Well, there's about 40 gallons more in the galley, ma'am.

Might as well eat it before it melts.

I don't get it.

They had to make room in the freezer for the body.

Nice.

It's the only place to preserve it, ma'am. SOP on a sub.

What?

Anyone who's served on a sub knows that.

Travis didn't commit suicide to give up.

Suicide was his backup plan. Where's the freezer, COB?

Loading door right here, sir. Right there.

The bastard booby-trapped himself.

Once he knew that he couldn't get in the cooling system,

he went to his backup plan before we could arrest him.

The sarin gas canister was designed to be triggered by cold.

Travis knew that if he died, you'd put him in the freezer.

-You mean he swallowed the canister? -Yeah.

If his core temperature gets to the trigger temperature,

the gas will be released.

It already has.

When it leaks out, we're gonna die.

I'll get the skipper to do another emergency...

There's no time for that. Kate, go fill in the skipper.

Come on. There's one way to get this guy

off this boat in a hurry. Go! Move it!

Gangway! Move!

Make a hole! Make a hole!

Move it! Move!

-Help us. -Thompson, we need a tube!

We've got torpedoes in two, three and four, sir.

-Load this in one. -Evans is in there doing maintenance!

-Get him out of there. -Get him out, guys. Come on.

(SKIPPER OVER P.A)) Torpedo room, con.

Con, torpedo room, COB.

You have permission to fire!

Aye, aye, sir.

-Secure the inner door! -Aye, aye!

Ready water shot!

-Aye, aye! -Open outer door!

-Outer door open! -Flood two!

-Two flooding! -Fire number one!

COB, I don't have to tell you what the most important thing is now, do I?

Getting the ice cream back in the freezer.

Exactly.

-Welcome back. -Hey.

Nice cap. They make you the boat mascot?

(CHUCKLES) This is your way of telling me how much you missed me, isn't it?

No.

What are you doing here, Special Agent McGee?

I brought my final report, sir.

You do not have to "sir" me, McGee.

Didn't they teach you how to use e-mail at MIT?

You graduated from MIT?

And Johns Hopkins.

I didn't tell him.

(PEOPLE CHATTERING)

(PHONES RINGING)

-What are you doing here? -I've got a lunch date with Abby.

I got to see this. I'll take you to her!

-Thanks. -Thanks what?

-Tony? -Sir.

I already warned you, Abby's not your type.

Well, I'd like to find out for myself.

Yeah, listen, kid,

I don't want to hurt your feelings, but you're not exactly Abby's type.

I've taken care of that.

Remember that urge you were talking about?

I went with "Mom."

(ELEVATOR DINGS)

I wonder what he said to make Tony speechless.

He told him he got a tat on his ass.