Original subtitles

Agent Franks. I wanted to introduce myself.

- Where's Swanson? - I'm her partner. Casey Bloom.

Listen, I was off-put by you asking me out.

- You don't say. - I'm free Saturday if you are.

(chuckles) Great.

(gunshot)

OLDER GIBBS: He said, "One down."

- (gasps) - "One to go."

So I knew someone close to me was in trouble.

- Whose print is it? - His profile's locked up beyond my reach.

You're gonna need someone with serious access.

TONY: Well, good.

A challenge. At 2:00 a.m.

Prints belong to a tracker who used to work for the CIA.

I'm worried about you, Gibbs.

You've been out of the game for a little while.

You can't do this alone.

(crickets chirping)

♪ ♪

VANCE: "Not sure you'll ever be back here,

"but in case you are,

"fixed your wall for you.

No charge. Leon."

(door opens in distance)

Missed you, too.

- Bishop... - Don't tell me I shouldn't be here.

You shouldn't be here.

I told DiNozzo, said to stay off the books.

Yeah, well, that's why he called me.

My whole life is off the books.

- I'm not your problem. - Ah.

Until the guy who shot you is dead or locked up,

all I got are problems.

Ow.

I'm sorry.

This way. Mm.

The tracker who found you,

Roan Briggs,

has been used by the CIA for years.

Lucky for us, they keep tabs

on all of their contractors.

So, these are his usual haunts.

We will get an alert as soon as he surfaces.

In the meantime,

we got to get that round out of you.

It'll heal.

It would've stopped bleeding by now.

So we got to get it out, repack the wound,

and then you've got a chance.

Okay.

- (groans softly) - Sorry.

You know, your basement is bigger without the boat.

Yeah. I was just thinking that.

All right.

Who's doing the honors?

- Yeah. That's what I figured. - (chuckles)

(chuckles)

Drink.

("Shimmy Shimmy Ya" by Ol' Dirty Bastard playing)

(exhales)

(grunting)

♪ Ooh, baby, I like it raw ♪

- (grunting) - ♪ Yeah, baby, I like it raw ♪

- ♪ Yeah ♪ - ♪ Ooh, baby, I like it raw ♪

♪ Yeah, baby, I like it raw ♪

♪ Shimmy, shimmy, ya, shimmy, yam, shimmy, yay ♪

♪ Give me the mic so I can take it away ♪

♪ Off on a natural charge, bon voyage ♪

♪ Yeah, from the home of the Dodger Brooklyn squad ♪

♪ Wu-Tang killer bees on a swarm ♪

- ♪ Rain on your college-ass disco dorm ♪ - (tires screech)

- (dogs barking) - ♪ For you to even touch my skill, you got to go through ♪

♪ One killer bee and he aim for the kill ♪

- ♪ Now chop that down, pass it all around ♪ - (tires screech)

♪ Lyrics get hard quick, cement to the ground ♪

♪ For any MC in any 52 states, I get psycho. ♪

(barking continues in distance)

(panting)

(rustling)

Hey.

Hey, hey.

(grunting)

Why are you chasing me?

- I'm not chasing you. - (panting)

You're in my shed.

Now, who the hell are you?!

♪ ♪

- ♪ - (indistinct chatter)

PATRON: Stood up?

Been there, brother.

I ain't been stood up.

Matter of fact, she asked me out first.

Think I'd rather be stood up.

Sorry I'm late.

It's okay. Take a load off.

Woman called the FBI tip line.

Freaked out about something she saw.

Wanted to speak in person.

Um, margarita, please.

- Salted. No straw. - Mm-hmm.

Rearranged my entire afternoon and...

- No-show. - Yeah.

Who does that?

It's like, lady, you called me.

90% of 'em are nuts, you know.

Well, I'm here now.

Oh, thank you.

You know what, it is our first date,

so new rule--

no shop talk.

Sounds good.

How's the beer?

Fine.

Solid beer.

Gray sport coat over there.

Carrying.

Ankle.

Keeps pulling his trouser leg down.

Already saw him when I walked in.

Left leg.

This couple behind you.

Both in their mid-50s. Married.

- Ooh, her second marriage. - How do you figure?

- (laughing) - SWANSON: She's still wearing her first wedding ring.

Different hand.

Waitress over there.

- College freshman. - Maybe sophomore.

SWANSON: Uh, either way, she just broke up with her boyfriend

because her mascara's... - Mascara's smudged.

(chuckling)

I'm really glad we did this, Mike.

Me too.

Joey.

(pager vibrates)

Damn it.

♪ ♪

I ain't happy, probie!

Just need your signature, boss.

Then you can get back to your date.

Swanson's long gone. You think a woman like that

hangs out at a steakhouse by herself?

Just sign the C-19 form so I can hold this kid longer.

He wants to leave, but I think he's in trouble.

Who is he?

Kevin Montgomery.

He's 23 years old.

Originally from Santa Barbara.

No priors.

He's a real estate agent in town visiting a friend.

Mary Jo said he broke into your apartment. Y'all went at it?

Herm's grandma's shed, but yeah.

What are you doing at Herm's grandma's shed?

Building a boat.

For Herm's grandma? Y'all friends?

No. And it doesn't matter.

Look, the kid said somebody was chasing him.

Now he's backpedaling. Won't talk.

Probably a doper. Why'd you bring him here?

Where else do you want me to bring him-- the cops?

I don't want him arrested. I want to help him.

I think he's in trouble.

This another one of your charity cases?

Sign the form, Franks. I got this.

I ain't signing crap until I lay eyes on this kid.

- Where's he at? - He's in the rec room

with Lala and Randy.

Boss, I am telling you,

kid's really rattled.

KEVIN: You know, I can't even take all the credit for this shutout.

It's these tiny wooden warriors

carved out of pure heart and determination.

- Randy! - I got it.

(Lala groans loudly)

RANDY: In my heart,

- I had it. - I am so proud of these fellas.

High five, high five, high five. Pablo carried us.

- High five. - Kid's terrified.

Aw, damn, you brought Mustache in?

Wow, I'm getting the big dog now.

- It's Agent Franks. - RANDY: We all got nicknames, boss.

Gibbs is Popeye, 'cause his boat and all.

I'm Gingersnap.

Not loving it.

She's Salma.

You know, that sexy young actress from the telenovelas.

- I am lovin' it. - FRANKS: Quit the nonsense.

Who you running from?

How many times I got to say it?

I was out for a jog,

got spooked,

and I ran into Popeye's creepy boat shed.

How you gonna get that thing out of there anyway?

Don't worry about his weird hobbies.

He thinks somebody was chasing you, and I'm betting

- he's right. - LALA: And whoever it is,

we can help you.

But you got to be honest with us.

I've told you everything.

Okay?

So, either charge me

or let me go.

FRANKS: You sell houses?

You look like a damn high school kid.

Come here.

Listen,

I'm sure there's been some doings,

but keeping him here ain't gonna help nothing.

Boss, I just need...

Take him home.

Is Salma single?

Keep making jokes.

Joke?

That was a very serious inquiry.

Mm.

Wait, am I stepping on your turf?

Where's your friend live?

Just up there. Half a klick.

You a military brat?

Actually, uh, right here's good.

Don't want his neighbors seeing me getting dropped off by a cop.

I got to maintain street cred around here.

(door opens)

Listen,

sorry for all this, but...

I'm good. For real.

Thanks for the lift.

(hip-hop playing in distance)

KEVIN: Yeah. I know, John.

Yeah, I know I told you next Sunday.

No, I need my money now.

Something went down, man. I got to bail.

Hey, yo, I need my money!

(sighs)

Forget it, man.

Damn, Popeye! You scared the hell out of me.

You can't just... walk in here.

I just wanted to give you my card.

Okay. Okay, you gave it.

Now can you just get out?

- GIBBS: What's all this? - (tires screech)

- Nothing. I-I said you got to... - (gunfire)

(grunts)

(whimpers)

(vehicle speeds away)

LALA: Just sorted through everything in his apartment

with Kowalski.

Had over 100 fake IDs.

FRANKS: 10,000 in cash.

Kid's quite the entrepreneur.

GIBBS: It's usually harmless college kids buying

fake IDs.

They don't shoot at you with AKs.

You were right, Gibbs. I should've signed the form.

RANDY: He's not just selling fake IDs.

He's using 'em.

His name isn't Kevin Montgomery,

and he's not a realtor.

Real name's Jack Hale.

He's only 18.

Works at a one-hour photo?

Yeah. Graduated from Yorkfield Military Academy

- in Virginia. - FRANKS: Theft, trespassing,

disorderly. How the hell's this kid not in juvie?

Simple. His father's General Arthur friggin' Hale.

Medal of Honor recipient.

- Aw, great. - Yep.

Daddy ain't saving him this time.

Aw. I was hoping for Salma.

Shut up!

Who'd you piss off?

- Seems like you. - GIBBS: Fake IDs,

ten grand in cash...

Actually, I'd, uh...

like that money back.

Oh, you think we're playing games here?

Hey. Popeye entered without a warrant.

Nothing he found is admissible in court.

Fruit of the poisonous tree.

He's right.

How does a photo clerk know so much about the law?

I don't know.

We should give him a nickname.

Matlock, maybe.

LALA: Good one, Gingersnap.

Giving a fake ID to a federal agent is a felony, Jack.

That's your real name, right?

Son of General Hale.

Bet he's proud.

(scoffs): Okay.

Let me guess, problems at home?

What is this, family counseling?

Oh, I think we hit a sore spot.

- Look at him squirm. - JACK: Oh, what,

so now it's good cop, bad cop?

- I just don't like you. - Boss.

Give us a minute alone.

You know we have to call your father.

(scoffs softly)

Good luck getting ahold of him.

He's got countries to invade.

Think he'll make time for this.

Yo, hold up.

I'm 18. Legally,

you don't have to call him.

I get it.

Dads can be complicated.

You don't want yours involved? Okay.

So then stop holding back

and help us figure out who's trying to kill you.

Will I get my money back?

One thing at a time.

Hypothetically...

...if someone was making fake IDs, they'd...

probably need access

to quality equipment.

That's why you work at the photo place.

Hypothetically.

And how does that end in automatic fire?

And drop the hypothetical crap.

(scoffs)

Another fake ID dealer came to my work.

He said I either have to stop selling

or give him a cut of everything I make.

I said no. I called him a little bitch.

So after that, a black Cadillac started tailing me.

So I ran into your shed.

- This guy have a name? - I didn't get his real one,

but I nicknamed him... (chuckles softly)

Hasselhoff.

He smelled like sunscreen.

There security cameras at the photo lab?

Yeah. But I am not letting you guys in there.

You're gonna get me fired.

Okay.

You're gonna get the tapes for us, then.

You know, the cop shows I watch

make the ride-alongs look a lot more exciting.

You go in there, you get

the security footage, you come back out,

- you hear me? - Yes, sir,

- Mustache, sir. - Boss.

Door.

Oh...

GIBBS: They cut the power, too.

(car door closes)

FRANKS: Call it in.

LALA: First your apartment,

now your work.

Whoever you're not running from didn't get the memo.

You think it's Hasselhoff, Matlock?

Wait, am I Matlock?

- You sure are. - (chuckles): Oh, my God.

- I love that. - LALA: They ripped

the security camera out.

Maybe Hasselhoff was worried

I was gonna rat him out to the cops.

Uh, doubt it. You're both criminals.

- (register dings) - If this guy was shaking you down

for your cash, why didn't he boost the till?

LALA: Mike, something had

to have been taken. Let the kid look around.

Fine. You watch him.

Go ahead. Don't touch anything.

♪ ♪

This basket's for morning pickup.

It was full when I locked up and left.

So, all they stole were photos?

If all Hasselhoff wanted was money,

he didn't do this.

What ain't you telling us?

Nothing, I swear.

- Yeah, well, I don't believe-- - FBI! Don't move!

- RANDY: NCIS! - MAN: Federal agents!

- FBI: Don't move! - Don't move! Don't move!

Joey?

Mike?

The hell you doing here?

You Jack Hale?

Yeah.

We're here for him.

♪

MARY JO: Cliff, I know you were really excited about

your turkey sandwich, but Franks and Swanson are headed your way.

- ...following your process, my guys are out there flying blind. - Don't know why you're so pissed

- at me for following protocol. - So I hear.

Course I'm pissed. We told you everything.

- You ain't telling us nothing. - For the tenth time, Franks,

I'm telling you I don't have authority to read you in.

- Oh, so it's "Franks" again, huh? - (scoffs)

And-and read me in? You walked into my crime scene.

Cliff, I need you to call this Director Numbnuts on the phone

- from the FBI and tell him that this Jack kid-- - Already done.

he's the son of a Marine general... What?

Agent Swanson,

your SAC faxed over approval

for a joint operation, so please now tell us everything you know.

Was that so hard?

A woman named Tilly Chavez called

the FBI tip line. Said she saw

something horrible while cleaning a commercial building.

- She was terrified. - What did she find?

She wouldn't tell me over the phone. But she took photos.

We arranged to meet in person. She never showed.

Why I was late for our dinner.

So I decided to go find her.

Someone else found her first.

How does General Hale's son fit into all this?

I followed a trail of bloody boot prints

to Tilly's answering machine.

Jack left a message saying Tilly's pictures

were ready for pickup at the one-hour photo.

Killer heard Jack's message.

He murders Tilly, steals the pictures,

then tries to kill Jack

- because he thinks he saw the photos. - WHEELER: And did he?

He ain't saying nothing till he gets his money back first.

Oh, that's nice.

So how does the killer even know that Tilly took

- those photos? - SWANSON: Not sure.

But whatever they're of must be big.

Anybody contact General Hale?

- 'Cause his son is clearly the target. - FRANKS: Jack's 18.

Doesn't want his dad involved.

And if Hale steamrolls in here, like generals do,

there ain't no way we're solving this.

No offense, Mike, but you are not a father.

I am giving you until morning,

and then I'm calling the general.

Mmm.

RANDY: Oh, come on, man. What's on the photos?

I don't think I've ever been this hungry.

You think it's the adrenaline from being shot at and all?

When I was undercover with the Steel Vultures,

topsided going 90.

Spent the next three hours making poor choices

at the Golden Corral.

- Was that a yes? - LALA: Jack.

The photos.

You know, Salma,

I'm trying to remember.

- Mm-hmm. - What did I see.

- Or not. - GIBBS: A woman was killed.

You think this is all a joke?

Oh, I'm not laughing.

I need that money to live.

And I am not talking until you give it back.

Okay. Let's go.

Let go of me, man.

GIBBS: Kowalski! I need

an evidence release form.

I sign this,

your money's released.

What's the catch?

No one's signing unless you talk.

Ticktock, kid.

I've had my eye on your bread for hours.

Been dreaming about mai tais in Belize.

I didn't see any crazy photos in Tilly's prints.

But our machine has been acting up recently,

so some of the photos came out blank.

What'd you do with the blanks?

Trash.

Kowalski, I'm coming your way.

MARY JO: Franks said he wants all hands

on deck in the bullpen.

- Copy that. - On it. - Actually,

Agent Bloom, Franks said if you have another lead,

any lead at all, you should go pursue that.

I do not.

- Honey, I tried. - Yeah.

- (rustling) - GIBBS: Lala,

- what are you doing back there? - (Lala groans)

Dumpster diving.

Photos are made of silver halide crystals.

If there's enough silver there, you can coax the image out.

Hey, uh, Jack,

what stock are these?

Kodak. Ektacolor Portra Two.

It's brand-new but, uh, temperamental.

Great. You can help me.

What about my money?

It's done. Just needs approvals up the chain.

Gonna take a couple days.

- Got him? - KOWALSKI: Yeah.

What?

This ain't Miami Vice, kid.

These things take time.

(sighs)

FRANKS: Okay, Tilly cleaned

18 buildings last month.

Whatever she saw that caused

this whole fiasco is in one of 'em.

We just got to figure out which one.

The eyes take in so much.

I wonder what hers

- couldn't let go of. - Drug stash, dead body,

the damn boogeyman-- it don't matter, Bloom.

- What matters is... - Who's responsible.

That's right.

I'll cross-reference the locations

against any recent crime activity.

I'll start pulling employee lists from all the buildings.

FYI, I'm rooting for you two.

Oh, boy.

- Casey... - BLOOM: No, Jos,

this has been weighing on me.

And if Michael feels awkward because I'm your partner,

that's a knot I need to untie.

And he needs to feel in his bones

that I'm behind this.

- Oh, boy. - SWANSON: I'm sure

he feels it in his bones.

But it was only one date.

Not even. I was late.

- He had to leave 15 minutes in. - Let's track down

whoever Tilly was brushing shoulders with.

She must've told somebody what she seen.

(quietly): When the 15 minutes are that damn good,

it counts as a date.

LALA: It's called silver intensification.

Takes a minute, but with a little luck,

we could resurrect these bad boys.

Popeye says it's gonna be a couple days

for me to get my money?

(sighs) Dude,

you're killing me.

What? I'm trying to figure out if "a couple" means two,

- three. - You know what I'm trying to figure out?

If you're actually a selfish prick

or you're just acting like one.

Yo, it sucks that lady got killed,

but I got problems of my own.

Soon as I get my cash back,

I'm out of Cali.

LALA: Look.

It's working.

- Damn. - Something tells me

this lady didn't get smoked over a toy terrier.

Why do you want to leave California?

Pretty soon the, uh...

general's gonna figure out where his baby boy's holed up.

And I'm not trying to have that reunion.

Finally.

Something real out of you.

Hey, don't be catching feelings.

Popeye will get jealous.

- Oh, yeah. I'm 18, not blind. - (scoffs)

- You two have a serious vibe. - Mm.

What, am I wrong?

- Grab those tongs. - Okay.

Agitate that print.

Okay.

You know, it's not just the, uh, fake IDs.

I do kind of dig photography.

This is the first time I've ever been in a darkroom.

It's...

it's pretty cool.

(clinking)

She's an oldie,

but she's never failed me.

Treat her well.

Thanks, Salma.

Ah...

- Tilly's garden. - (chuckles)

Gnome sweet gnome.

- (chuckling) - Mm.

Oh.

Lala.

Wow. My real name.

I think I'm actually gonna miss being Salma.

What?

Can't be weirder than 400 gnomes.

♪ ♪

- (fax machine dialing) - (whirring)

(beep)

(groans)

God's sake.

I know my Christmas bonus better be huge.

JACK: So, basically,

I am being hunted by a serial killer.

- Don't know yet. - No, I'm pretty sure three heads qualifies as a serial.

And I'm being hunted, so, yeah, that's just, like, basic math.

Jack, you're safe with us.

- I want to talk to Mustache. - He doesn't want

- to hear you bitch about your money right now. - Salma,

- I need... - No, neither do I. Are you not listening?

Here, you're good.

Out there, not so much.

So just chill, take some pictures,

live a little longer.

(sighs)

MARY JO: Hey, tell Bloom

I sent a fax of the severed heads

to his friends at the Bureau.

Can you keep an eye

- on Jack for me? - Honey, I'm happy to keep an eye

on anything that isn't decapitated.

SWANSON: These freezers are industrial-grade.

Not gonna find that in a laundromat or a tanning salon.

That brings us down to 16.

Heads are faxed, Bloom.

FRANKS: Rando, any serial killers

at large who got a taste for Chinese folks?

- Wow, Mike. - What?

No racist serial killers jumping out in the files, boss.

BLOOM: He's not a serial killer. Our gang unit

just ID'd all three victims

as members of the Nine Gates Brotherhood.

Nine Gates only operate in the southeast part of the city.

That leaves us with only five left.

Uh, three restaurants, a florist, and a seafood supplier.

Ain't no judge gonna approve five warrants.

Casey, you got those employee lists?

Let's check if any of them are known members of the Nine Gates.

JACK: The Nine Gates?

Those dudes are ruthless.

Even worse than a serial killer.

I'm sorry, Franks. He slipped by me.

FRANKS: It ain't your fault, Mary Jo.

Why, get the kid a Lunchable or something.

JACK: Let's compromise.

Float me a small loan and a bus ticket

- to somewhere far... - This damn kid. - I got him.

Come on, let's go. Let's go, man.

Come on.

LALA: This is gang-affiliated.

If we want answers, Flaco's our guy.

I'm betting he's still a wee bit salty at you.

- For what? - Story for another time. Rando's right.

- I'm think y'all should let me go... - Screw that. I'm going.

- (door opens) - Okay then.

Sit down.

You know what,

I'm not sitting, bro.

I'm done waiting in this room.

I'm done listening to you all preach.

I'm done with it all.

Please,

- I want to leave. - You just said

having this gang after you is worse than a serial killer.

I'm not going home.

I'm going to a land far, far away.

- You think they can't find you? - Eh...

These guys have resources.

Not compared to my dad!

And he hasn't found me!

You know, maybe he isn't even looking.

Either way, I'll be fine.

Do you even want him to?

Hold up.

(grunts)

I'm ready now, Doc.

You always such a prick?

You know, you're the second person

- to ask me that today. - Mm.

- Lala? - Yeah.

She put it a little different.

She said I was...

a selfish prick.

Which is more in line with the general's thinking.

(sighs) Growing up in that house was a blast.

- (scoffs) - Mm. Yeah, I know how you feel.

Yeah, sure you do, Popeye.

My dad put the fear of God in me every day.

And believe you me, he called me things

a whole lot worse than "prick."

Move over.

The truth is...

...I'm not too sure

if I ever really made him proud.

Are you still trying?

To make him proud?

I don't think that ever goes away.

That sucks.

(chuckles softly)

Yeah, that sucks.

But you know what?

I still love him.

It's been a few months since we've talked.

You want to lay down on the couch?

(chuckling)

The truth is I kind of am a selfish prick.

Come on.

Still got time to prove him wrong.

(grunts)

But for now...

- (chuckles softly) - (grunts)

What's this?

What, is it part of therapy?

- Yeah. - (chuckles)

You're kidding me.

I never kid when it comes to puzzling.

Edges first.

FRANKS: You think Swanson was joking earlier

when she said our first date didn't count?

Shockingly, Mike, I haven't given it much thought.

'Cause I got a system, you know.

First date, dinner, peck on the cheek.

Second date, move to the lips.

Third date, that's when the magic happens.

Isn't that just standard dating?

I didn't say it was groundbreaking, but it works.

And I just don't want to get called back to first base.

Can we stop talking about this, Mike?

Count 'em up.

- Otra vez. - FRANKS: Going kind of hard

on your auntie, ain't you?

Aw, she knows not to bring that weak stuff up in here.

You know I'm just playing with you, Tía.

- You know I love you. - LALA: Looking fit

as a fiddle, Flaco.

How you feeling?

Pretty good, considering your little boy toy Manny

put a bullet in me.

You whipped him up nice and proper, huh, mama?

Whatever that was didn't sound cordial.

Wash 'em.

You know, I, uh, checked the prison databases.

Manny wasn't in any of 'em.

Y'all set him up all cozy-like in witness protection?

Why don't you give me his new addy so he and I can catch up.

FRANKS: You know who did that?

Yep.

What do you want?

One of my boys got pinched selling weed to a sailor.

Agent that picked him up was one of yours.

We'll take care of it.

That easy?

That easy.

FLACO: This is the work of Xi Chan.

Homie was an enforcer for the Nine Gates.

The heads are his signature.

But he went rogue, so the brotherhood jumped him out.

Looks like they should've thought harder about that.

FRANKS: Where can we find him?

You don't.

He finds you.

Come on, Flaco, you got friends.

- Ask around. - (Flaco scoffs)

Chan finds out I'm helping you,

pretty soon Tía's gonna be burying me without a head.

I gave you a name. Don't get greedy, now.

Domino, hermano.

(Flaco whistles)

I meant what I said about Chan finding you.

Word is he's hunting for that boy.

He's not gonna stop till that kid's noggin is his.

WHEELER: This is the most gruesome rap sheet that I've ever seen.

Do we know how to find this Chan?

FRANKS: No home address,

but we narrowed Tilly's buildings down to three.

Chan owns one of 'em.

A warehouse on 18th and 26th.

So why are you still here?

RANDY: We think the whole place must be rigged

with security cameras, sir.

There's no other way he could've known Tilly took those photos.

We can't go in guns blazing,

because if Chan sees us on those cameras,

he'll never go back.

(scoffs) Given everything that's happened,

he's probably not going back anyway.

FRANKS: Know it's a long shot,

but it's our only lead.

You know what I'm smelling, don't you?

A stakeout.

That-that was, uh, teed up for Wheeler, huh?

Yep. Rando, rest of us all talked about it

- two minutes ago. - Two minutes ago. - Okay, let's get logistics

in order for tonight, get the wheels in motion for tomorrow.

What about Jack?

I know I said I'd wait until morning,

but in light of recent events, I called General Hale.

Needless to say, he was livid.

- At us or him? - Both.

But Jack got the brunt of it.

He said he loves his boy, but Jack doesn't care

about anybody but himself and that's never gonna change.

- So what now? - Well, the general arranged

for a C-130 to transport Jack to Camp Lejeune later tonight.

I asked Agent Bloom to escort him to the airfield.

Swanson's there with an advance team now.

What happens after he gets to Camp Lejeune?

He'll be held in federal protection

until Chan is in custody.

The general's en route to meet him there now.

- Does Jack know? - (scoffs) No. Not yet.

I asked Agent Bloom to hold off on telling him

until they're ready to depart.

Trying to keep dramatics to a minimum.

- FRANKS: Good thinking. - Jack should hear it from me,

not Bloom.

KOWALSKI: Uh, Jack's down in the darkroom.

Lala gave him that camera and now he thinks

he's Annie Leibovitz.

- (shutter clicks) - Give me a chin down, eyes up.

Yes.

KOWALSKI: Make sure you frame that one.

- Mm-hmm. - Oh, yeah. Poster-size, Hawkeye.

That's from M#A#S#H.

I told him about Korea.

Listen, Jack, there's been a change of plans.

Your father was called.

And?

And you're being transported to a base in North Carolina.

He'll meet you there.

Okay.

- That's it? - What?

Were you expecting a temper tantrum?

BLOOM: Hey, Jack.

Can I talk to you?

Yeah, just give me a minute.

Nice knowing you, Popeye.

Best of luck tracking down whoever's trying to kill me.

I want to be old enough to legally drink a beer.

Mm. We'll find him.

You take care of yourself, Jack.

(indistinct chatter)

How'd he take it?

Surprisingly well.

Kid's probably just glad to be out of that rec room prison.

Well, he was in the darkroom, but...

What's wrong, probie?

He was too calm.

The vents down there-- they're a direct line

into Wheeler's office.

I think he heard us talking.

So?

He go in there?

Yeah. Long trip ahead.

Damn it.

Yes, General, FBI Agents Swanson and Bloom

will be waiting for you when your plane touches down.

And I assure you, sir, that we are going to find your son.

(beep)

- Yeah. - MARY JO: Cliff,

Franks and Randy just got back.

How did it go with the general?

They rerouted him to San Diego.

His plane touches down in less than two hours.

I'm coming down.

I'm capable. I'm competent.

This is not the day it all falls apart.

- (indistinct chatter) - (phones ringing)

- Okay, got it. - Jack Hale

was last seen near...

Updates. Now!

Still no hits on Jack's BOLO, sir.

But we got his face on the news.

You sure this is smart? Now Chan knows he's out there.

Chan is hunting for him no matter what.

This tip line will help us find Jack first.

The calls are rolling in,

and there's a fresh pot of coffee brewing.

We got this.

- Thank you, Mary Jo. - Remember,

you are capable. You are competent.

BOTH: This is not the day it all falls apart.

- Talk to me. - One of the MPs spotted Jack

leaving base last night around midnight,

but, after that, trail goes cold.

We checked every airport and train station

in a 30-mile radius.

Ain't nobody seen him.

We hit every diner and gas station

in the area. No luck.

- His apartment? - LALA: JJ and Carl

are staking it out. No sign of him yet, though.

Fax just came in from the San Ysidro bus station!

Ticket agent thinks they spotted Jack.

I'll check it out.

This kid dislikes his father so much

he'd rather risk his life

- than have a reunion. - That should make you

feel better about what you got going on with your boy.

- (phone rings) - GAIL: NCIS tip line, please hold.

(phone ringing)

Hello, NCIS tip line.

Gail, did you look at this?

The kid they think is Jack

has been at the bus station since yesterday morning.

Jack was with us then.

Oh.

Sorry, sir,

but we don't have any Agent Mustache that works here.

Oh!

Give me the phone.

Jack? Hello?

- Hey, Popeye. - Guys! I got him!

You didn't have to blast my face all over the news.

It's kind of embarrassing, you know?

Jack, what are you doing, man?

Proving to myself that I'm not

- a selfish prick. - Really?

'Cause this seems pretty damn selfish to me.

Hey.

I didn't take off to avoid my dad.

- I left because I'm trying to help. - Help who?

Tilly.

Well, her family, at least.

Trying to get them justice.

Just tell us where you are, Jack.

18th and 26th,

by Chan's warehouse.

Yeah, that's right. I heard you through the vents.

Finding him is a long shot unless I help you.

- Jack, listen... - Hey, you guys were right.

There's cameras all over out here. So,

I'm gonna show my face.

He's gonna come to try and chop my head off.

And you guys are gonna arrest him.

Hopefully before that. Okay, good plan.

- See you in a bit. - Jack... - (hangs up)

- Aw, damn it. - This kid's got a damn death wish.

We need to get there before Chan does.

We really need to fix those vents.

♪ ♪

Come get me, bitch.

♪ ♪

- GIBBS: There's our Caddy. - LALA: Yep, it's Chan's.

- Rando, Dominguez, clear the car. - Copy.

Yeah!

Alley's clear.

FRANKS: Probie, on me!

RANDY: Trunk.

Chan knows the lay of the land.

Kid doesn't. Stay quiet but move fast.

Go.

JACK (whispering): Hey. Over here.

- Jack. Where are you? - Psst.

(gunshots)

(gunshots continue)

(sighs) Kid moved.

Lala.

Can't tell if that's Jack or Chan.

- (gunshots) - (groans)

My money's on Chan!

Yeah. Good bet!

GIBBS: Friendlies, friendlies.

Friendlies, friendlies on your six.

We had eyes on Jack.

He ran off, though.

JACK: Get off me!

The southwest corner! Southwe--

- (muffled shouting) - GIBBS: Move. Move, move.

RANDY: Cover you. Go, go, go.

NCIS! Let him go!

LALA: Hands! Show me your hands!

RANDY: Drop your weapon!

Drop your weapon!

LALA: Hands, hands, hands!

- FRANKS: Let him go! - Hands!

(exhales)

(gunshot)

You okay?

Hey. You okay?

I think so.

RANDY: Dang, Matlock.

- Not smart. - JACK: What?

My plan worked.

Get in the car, Jack.

Belize is on the back burner again.

You know, I am really starting to worry about you, Kowalski.

How's the young man?

(clears throat)

Okay, I think.

See you later.

Got room in your bag for this?

- Thanks, Popeye. - (chuckles)

Got something else for you, too.

I don't want it.

Do me a favor. Give it to Tilly's family.

Not so selfish after all.

Tell that to my dad.

I already did.

He's waiting for you.

I, um...

I left something on your desk for you.

Hope you like it.

Glad it was your creepy shed I ran into, Gibbs.

Good luck with your dad.

Yeah, you too.

Bet he'd love to hear from you.

Oh, Dad.

FRANKS: Ain't that a happy ending.

I'll take it.

I...

You know, I got write-ups to do and,

uh, tons of casework.

You free tonight?

Listen, Mike, I think...

it's pretty clear, in our line of work,

we're just going to keep

- getting interrupted. - (clears throat)

So...

...how about we just...

jump to date three?

Saturday.

My place.

Mmm.

You see this?

Yeah.

I got one, too.

Kid's a pain in the ass.

But, uh,

think I'm gonna miss him.

(chuckles)

He's pretty good.

Or maybe we just look good together.

♪ ♪

Hey, Dad.

BISHOP: It's a 168 grain

full metal jacket boat tail.

Should've killed you.

Mm.

BISHOP: Who's that?

Lala Dominguez.

One hell of a special agent.

Is that all she was to you?

I don't see many photos of me in there.

You think she could be the other target?

No.

No, I do not.

She died a long time ago.

Oh. KIA?

No.

Plane crash.

Oh.

Sorry.

(computer trilling)

Oh. Okay, we got a hit on your tracker.

Looks like Roan Briggs is holed up in a hotel in Baltimore.

Whoa. Are you sure you don't want to rest up

since you just, like, performed surgery on yourself?

No. Gear up.

("Shimmy Shimmy Ya" by Ol' Dirty Bastard playing)

What?

Nothing. I just...

I never thought I'd hear you say that again.

Ah.

♪ Ooh, baby, I like it raw ♪

♪ Yeah, baby, I like it raw ♪

Let's roll.

♪ Ooh, baby, I like it raw... ♪

Gibbs, save a couple of them for later.

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Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH access.wgbh.org