All language subtitles for NCIS.Sydney.S01E07.Bunker.Down.720p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H.264-NTb

Housekeeping.

Excuse me. Housekeeping.

I'm coming in.

Excuse me. Anyone in there?

So, I looked up the NCIS
manual. Double-checked it.

It is right there
in black-and-white.

Clause 17, subsection D -

an allegation of
theft will trigger

an internal investigation.

Just so I'm following,

this is because
someone ate your pizza?

- Mm-mm, not 'someone'. Evie.
- Oh.

And she's a repeat offender.

She treats the office
fridge like a Vegas buffet.

Was it labeled?

It was my personalized topping.

Just like a serial number
right there in mozza...

Someone stole your
food again, DeShawn?

What? My... pizza. Yeah. Mm.

I think we broke him.

- Is the dress all right?
- Yeah, you look serviceable.

Jeez, what charm school
did you flunk out of?

Invites for the
launch party tonight,

courtesy of the DOD.

- Uh! Nuh-uh!
- Mm!

SECNAV was clear.

They want eyes on the
ground. Field agents.

But, boss, it's GaiaMetric!

Satellite-free geolocation.
That is... That's my jam.

Orders are orders, Blue.

I'm sorry.

Mackey.

Sorry, babe.

Hey, it's a bunch of tech bros

patting each other on the back.

Just pretentious
navel-gazing, so...

Well, we are naval
investigators.

Touché.

On the bright side,
free champagne.

'Free'? Interesting concept.

You know, not to be
mistaken with 'stolen'.

Are you accusing
me of something?

- My pizza's missing.
- You want me to put out a BOLO?

I'll need a description.

Okay. All right.

Italian pepperoni,
Mexican chorizo,

deep-dish stuffed
crust, extra peppers,

extra jalapeños, extra hot sauce

with a cheeky little
drizzle of honey to coat.

- Sound familiar?
- Sounds disgusting.

Scientist found dead
in a hotel room.

We investigate dead
scientists now?

We do when they work for the
Office of Naval Research.

We'll have to split up. I'll
take the hotel with one other.

Whoa, whoa, whoa,
whoa. Not so fast.

These invites came from the
American side, so that's on you.

- Fine. DeShawn?
- Yes.

- You and JD do the hotel.
- Yes!

- Wait a...
- Mm.

I'm American. Why am I
not going to the banquet?

Blue, enjoy the navel-gazing.

We'll call you if we need you.

- Have fun.
- Yeah, have fun.

Okay, we have about an hour

until we have to be at
the pick-up location,

so you'd better
get dressed, stat.

What do you mean? I am dressed.

Leave it to me.

This way, my darling.

All right. So...

Howie Sutcliffe, 34 years old,

scientist with ONR,

based out of the US
Consulate in Melbourne.

- Room in his name?
- Yep.

Booking for one.
Checked in 1300.

And he checked out...
a few hours ago.

Um, time of death anywhere
between 1400 and 1600.

Suffocation?

He's got a plastic bag

over his head,
007. You tell me.

Well, local cops believe
it was an accident.

Quote, "Guy wanted
to get freaky.

Took a solo flight.
Failed to eject."

Ah, well, they may
not be too far wrong.

You think he's pulling
a 'Lone Ranger'?

Well, put it this way.

I don't think he was
using the toilet, Tonto.

- You right?
- Sorry, Sarge. Hay fever.

It's the westerlies. It blows
pollen all over the shop.

Lord Sneezeby,

mate, this is an active
crime scene, yeah?

This guy!

There's an abrasion
near his temple

and it looks fresh.

This vanity's taken a hit.

So, maybe he gets the bag
on, starts to feel woozy,

he slips, hits his head,

passes out before he
can take it off again.

Yeah, yeah, but how
does he fall here?

And there is blood
under his fingernails

and possibly skin tissue.

Signs of a struggle.

So, maybe he gets
surprised from behind

while he's running a bath.

He gets grabbed, bagged,
fights back, hits the vanity.

Yeah, and I'm seeing bruises
on his feet and lower legs.

If he's being suffocated,

you know, he's
thrashing, he's kicking.

Yeah, till he kicks no more.

And then the killer
drags him back,

lays him to rest by the toilet.

It's good enough for Elvis.

Uh, Sarge, found something.

Please tell me it's
an antihistamine.

Not quite.

GPS is giving us nothing.

Figure all their phones
must've been jammed en route.

Last known location
I had for them

is Goulburn Street in the city.

Yeah, it's a pick-up location.

- Do we know the hire car company?
- We know jack.

These GaiaMetric guys wanted the
whole thing kept on the ultra q.t.

But I pulled the hotel CCTV.

This is from 2pm, which
is inside our TOD window.

Mm-hm.

Watch her head.

It's always angled
away from the camera

no matter which
way she's walking.

- It's too good to be a fluke.
- You think the maid's a killer?

I don't think that's a maid.

Well, how many
rooms does she hit?

Only one. Sutcliffe's. In
and out in four minutes.

Now, unless she's Usain
Bolt with a feather duster,

that's not enough time to clean.

Get onto DOD. The
invite came from them.

Maybe they know
where the event is.

This is ridiculous. Eugh.

No phone reception.
This'll be fun.

Guys, come on, okay?

It's all part of the mystique.

Just wait, all right.
It's gonna be amazing.

- Okay.
- Oh.

Welcome. Your
medallions, please.

It's meant to do that, right?

Well, youarethe last
guests to arrive.

The bunker will be sealed for
the remainder of the event.

How's the
cherry-to-lemonade ratio?

We are technically working,
so let's keep it neat, okay?

Sure thing, boss.

That was the Deng Xiu. He...

What he's doing with AI
would melt your brain

and then replicate it
and then melt that.

Cool.

That's the founder of Cognifax

She is, like, the Neil deGrasse
Tyson of transhumanism.

Oh, my gosh, that's
Rohit Rashik.

He's, like, GaiaMetric's
main competitor.

The two companies
have been in a race

to hack the science for years.

He and the CEO of
GaiaMetric, Ada Pack,

like, they hate each other.

I wonder why he's here.

Keep your enemies close, Blue.

No, thanks. I'm on the
clock. Keeping it tidy.

- Recognize anyone?
- A few faces.

Arms brokers, ex-spooks,

trade reps from our
more hostile neighbors.

Rival contractors,
rival nations...

And a piece of tech that
could change modern warfare

as we know it.

Bit of a powder keg.

Ladies and gentlemen,

I'm Ada Pack, CEO of GaiaMetric.

Now, I don't want
to alarm anyone,

but I've got some bad news.

I'm afraid we're
stuck in this bunker

and no one knows where we are.

Can anyone call Triple-0?

Can anyone find
this place on Maps?

But it gets worse.

This bunker hasn't been
functional for decades.

No air in or out,

which means we've only got
two hours of oxygen left.

We're screwed because your
tech relies on satellites.

But imagine a
device that doesn't,

that uses the Earth's
magnetic field

to determine your location

and communicate.

Yesterday, this device
was just a fantasy.

Today, it's GaiaMetric.

As long as the Earth has a core,

GaiaMetric is your North Star.

Now, I can see a few
skeptics out there,

so to prove it, I've rigged
a receiver on the surface,

well beyond the range
of traditional GPS,

but as soon as I
activate GaiaMetric,

it will unseal the bunker

and we can head up to the
banquet safe and sound.

Life before GaiaMetric -

we all die down here
of oxygen deprivation.

Life after GaiaMetric...

Well, the invitations to
the launch came through you,

so who was the contact?

This is part of a
murder investigation.

Yeah, I'm trying to confirm
whether any of your drivers

had a pick-up booked,
departing from Goulburn Street.

Actually, I do mind
being put on...

hold again.

No luck with DOD?

Rental car companies?

Same.

I mean, why have a website
if it has no information?

Keep it exclusive,
sell the hype.

Hmm...

Hold on.

No one's posted about
the event on socials yet,

so either it's a PR disaster...

Or no one has phone service.

Wait. Check it.

Lauren Fox. She's
an event planner.

And here she is posting
about GaiaMetric.

Special Agent Mackey, NCIS.
How are we doing here?

Temporary setback.

Really? 'Cause people are
getting antsy down there.

You, what's your name?

Sophie Atkins, technician.

All right, Sophie
Atkins, technician,

what's that look of
sheer panic about?

The whole point of this event

was to prove our tech
wasn't some cheap trick.

Uh-huh. How's that
working for you?

Look, currently, GaiaMetric
evidently isn't...

Any good?

complying.

If you would just
let me focus...

Feels like we're past that.

What's your back-up?

We didn't need one.
Our plan was perfect.

Okay.

If we're trapped
in here for real,

you'd better tell
me where 'here' is.

We don't know. None of us do.

It was imperative that no
one knew where we were,

not even me.

What about the people who brought
us here, the drivers up top?

Their orders are
to sit and wait.

- For how long?
- The longer, the better.

They're being paid by the hour.

My event planner, Lauren Fox,

she's the only one who
knows where we are.

She's at the function center
setting up the banquet.

And how long until she
figures out something's wrong?

Please tell me that
timer's a prop.

The event is pointless

if the bunker's not
actually sealed.

You have gotta be kidding me.

You think I would have done this

if I didn't believe
100% in my product?

It passed every test.
GaiaMetric does not fail.

And yet... here we are.

I don't suppose you've got a
kilo of Semtex in your clutch.

Okay, so I did the maths
and the timer is bang-on.

Well, at least they
got that right.

What are you talking
about? Bang-on what?

We have two hours
of oxygen left.

Oh, come on!

Actually, it's worse than that

because we will get
very sick before then.

Hypoxia will set in,

so it's confusion, delirium,
loss of consciousness.

Sorry.

Yeah, nah, forget that.
I don't do delirium.

Did that party in
my teens. Hard pass.

- Where are you going?
- Finding another way out.

There's gotta be a back
door around here somewhere.

Well, on the bright side,

you know, there's
actually a minute or two

where all 50 of us could
feel quite euphoric, so...

51.

Hey. What's your name?

Monica. Monica Rowe.

Monica, I'm Michelle
Mackey. I'm with NCIS.

Let's get that breathing
under control, okay?

With me. In through
your nose for three.

Out through your mouth.

Good.

First time trapped in a bunker?

Yeah, you could say that.

- Is that a first too?
- Yeah.

38 weeks.

What do you do, Monica?

I'm a journalist.

Tech and science.

I've been following
GaiaMetric since day dot.

Wasn't gonna miss
this for the world.

Bet you're reconsidering
that right about now.

Yeah.

Okay, your heart rate's good.

Keep it there.

Just breathe slow,
conserve your energy.

We'll get you outta here,
I promise. Both of you.

Right place, wrong time?

Where the hell is everyone?

Wagyu slider, gentlemen?

Jim Dempsey, AFP.

- Where are your guests?
- You're the first to arrive.

Where can I find Lauren Fox?

Um, she was around
here somewhere.

Has anyone seen Lauren Fox?

Her phone's still
somewhere in the building.

Okay, so, I didn't find an exit,
but I found the next best thing.

Just having trouble
getting it open.

Door's missing a spindle or
it's corroded or something.

Here. Let me.

See, when I go to a
party, I pack lip gloss.

Mackey brings a switchblade.

Switchblades are spring-loaded.
That's a pocket knife.

Girl Scouts have
pocket knives, Blue.

That thing could
castrate Godzilla.

You got a nail file?

You wanna shape or buff?

You carrying a bar
blade in there too?

Unfortunately not. Wait
staff will have one.

Here. Work this in.

Smooth it out as best you can.

Here.

Hey. I need your
bar blade, buddy.

Cheers.

Maybe one of those.

Enough! You've
made your point.

What are you talking about?

- How are you doing it?
- Doing what?

Oh, you're blaming me?

Oh, that's rich. Nice deflect.

Nothing to do with
your own incompetence,

putting something out
before it's ready?

It was absolutely ready and
somehow you've killed it.

Just turn it back on.

How can I turn something
on that doesn't work, Ada?

Sarge!

- Here.
- Oh, thanks.

Okay, it doesn't quite fit.

Smooth it out some more.

I don't know if it's just
professional rivalry,

but I'm getting the impression
Ada thinks Rohit somehow managed

to sabotage the launch.

How would you even do that?

The tech is secret,

- but the science is open source.
- So?

So you throw enough
resources at it

and you can reap all kinds
of magnetic mischief.

Oh, beans!

Babe, you're allowed
to take that off.

I'm okay.

- You'd need some kind of jammer.
- And an escape plan.

Here.

Oh. Hand me that bar.

Okay, I think we're good.

Let's see what's
behind door number one.

Eugh.

Some kind of war room.

But no exit.

- Smells like my nanna.
- Breathe it in.

Nanna just bought us
more time... and flour.

Yeah, dead weevils
from 1950-something.

Just what we need.

That's not all she bought us.

I got into Lauren's phone, but
the files are all encrypted.

Well, un-encrypt them.

The term is 'decrypt'
and I can't.

That's why we have Blue.

What is... What the hell?

Yeah, it does that.

How did you go, Rosie?

There was some sticky residue
on Lauren Fox's hands.

I'll be able to tell
you exactly what it is

when I get this
bloody thing working.

JD.

We're running out of time,

so shut up and listen.

Listen up, guys.

We're in some kind
of military bunker,

World War II era,
location unknown.

- How'd you get there?
- We were blindfolded.

Taken from the meet
point to the harbor.

Trip was about eight minutes.

Then we were on a boat
for 12 minutes tops.

What type? How fast
were you traveling?

Mid-sized, twin onboards.
At least 20 knots.

And I know how this sounds,

but before we docked, I could
have sworn that I heard lions.

Lions?

We only have an hour and
a half of oxygen left.

I have got 50 people down here

including a heavily
pregnant woman

who I'd like to see go to term.

JD, I need you to
find Lauren Fox, okay?

- She's the only one who knows.
- Lauren Fox is dead.

Same MO as the naval
researcher at the hotel.

Both were asphyxiated.

Someone likes a motif.

No, no, no, no,
no, no, no, no...

Hey, hey, Blue, it's
okay. You're okay.

- Mackey, Mackey, what's...
- We just lost power.

- Evie, go check it out.
- On it.

Tell me more about
this naval researcher.

JD?

Are you still there?

JD? JD!

- What? What just happened?
- Line went dead.

Something tripped
the circuit breaker.

- The phone's out.
- It should be working now.

It's a copper line.

It doesn't run off
mains electricity.

Then how...

Someone cut the line.

And ripped it out.

Can we reattach it?

Not unless we break
through meters of concrete

and find the other end.

So, someone murdered two
people to be at this party

and now they're down
here walking amongst us.

I don't think
they're done killing.

One of them killed
for an invitation

and then murdered the one
person who knew where we were.

Why?

They want us trapped down here.

Is that part of the plan?

What plan? What are they after?

- The device.
- The device doesn't work.

Or it does and Ada was
right about the sabotage.

What if it's more than that?

If you wipe everybody out,

you not only get your
hands on GaiaMetric,

but the one person who
can rebuild it is dead.

- You get a...
- Monopoly.

But who's gonna want a product that
just put 50 bodies in the morgue?

People who wouldn't care.

For them, 50 bodies is a cut
rate for a tactical edge.

But how? How?

That means that the person
that's behind all of this

is trapped down here with us.

What kind of killer traps
themselves in with their victims?

The kind with an escape plan.

And a device to jam the tech.

Oi! Everybody, get up.

On your feet. Up
along this wall.

You heard Constable Cooper!
Move it, people! Now!

There's 12 World War II
bunkers in the Sydney area.

So, they could be trapped
in any one of them?

Not any. They were picked
up from Goulburn Street.

Now, eight minutes
gets you to the harbor.

Now, the likely pick-up point
was either Circular Quay

or the Man O'War Steps.

So, if they traveled from
either of these locations

at 20 knots for 12 minutes...

That's eight clicks
as the crow flies,

given the conditions and
the speed of the boat.

Eight clicks.

That leaves us one
bunker at Balmain,

one at Greenwich and one
each at North and South Head.

So, there's four. How are
we gonna cover all four?

We don't have to. Blue
said she heard lions.

- Which is kinda crazy.
- No, not in Sydney.

Taronga Zoo is
right on the water.

Residents living on the
water often hear the roars.

- They're carried by the wind.
- No kidding. All right.

If we work out which
way the wind's blowing,

- we can work out...
- Which way they were headed.

You tell us, Lord Sneezeby.

- West.
- Give the man a tissue.

Blowing over Taronga,

carrying the sound of the
roars in this direction to...

South Head. HMAS
Watson, to be precise.

Okay, you're clear.
Sit down. Don't talk.

Next. Hands on the
wall. Legs spread.

I said turn and face the
wall with your hands up.

Okay, we'll do it your way.

Do you have any idea who I am?

You're GaiaMetric's
main competitor.

You're also a lame tech bro,

which means you have
motive, means...

And empty pockets.

- I will sue you.
- I hope to see the day.

Boss.

What is it?

Ash.

Where we at, Doc?

Well, the sticky residue

on Lauren Fox's hand, it's
not from the duct tape.

- Then what is it?
- It's an adhesive

with an unusual texture
that I have not seen before.

Yeah? And?

Oh, mate, that's
as far as I've got.

I need more time.

We don't have time.

I'm not a lab tech.
Without Blue here...

You don't have Blue, and in
30 minutes, she's gone, mate.

So, figure it out.

Okay, a little more. Come on.

Sorry!

Okay.

I can see stars.

There's air outside.
Air is good.

Well done.

- What is it?
- This is a chimney, right?

Right now, I'd prefer to think
of it as one giant snorkel.

No, no, no, except
that it's not.

Snorkels bring air in.

This flue is designed to
pull hot air up and out.

Usually, that would
be smoke, but...

But right now, it's sucking out
whatever oxygen we have left.

Quick, quick, quick!
Get the panel back on!

Oi.

Sophie!

- What are you doing?
- Nothing.

Phones don't work down
here. Who are you texting?

You got reception? Communicating
with someone on the outside?

No, of course not.

- It's a letter, okay?
- To who?

My mum.

Sorry.

Oh, my God, I'm so sorry.

Monica?

Monica, can you open
the door, please?

Is everything okay in there?

My waters.

There it is.

- You know how to pick a lock?
- Damn straight.

That'll do.

Maybe Mackey made a mistake.

Mackey doesn't make mistakes.

Then what? All our
intel came from her.

Come on, come on.
Where did we go wrong?

Just take a breath, mate.
We're gonna find them.

What are you talking about?!

There were three other bunkers they could
possibly be in and no time to find 'em.

Did you stop sneezing?

What are you saying?

It means the wind's not blowing

from the west anymore, kid.

It swung to the
south-west. When?

About the time the
girls were on the boat,

which means if they
heard the lions,

the boat wasn't
bringing them here.

It was taking them there.

They only have 20
minutes of oxygen left.

- All right, let's move.
- How?

North Head's at least an
hour's drive from here.

They'll be dead by
the time we get there.

Who said anything about driving?

There.

Just follow your
instincts, okay?

I mean, as to what position.

Thanks.

Still feeling baby's movements?

That's good.

I want you to listen
to your body, okay?

Work with it, not against
it. You're doing great.

Were you a midwife
in another life?

Hell, no.

We need to check your
dilation. Is that okay?

Stop it.

I know we're not gonna make it.

Don't say that.
There's still time.

I've gone through this
whole pregnancy on my own.

It's been so nice to have
someone with us at the end.

Nothing's ending down here.

For the record, I think
your taste in topping sucks.

I mean, who has honey on pizza?

But just so I don't die down
here with you still wondering...

I only took the damn thing to...

you know...

get us back to where
we were before you...

Before things got
messed up between us.

Which was mostly your
fault, by the way.

But I guess I just missed...

Will miss...

While we're taking pizza orders,
DeShawn, mine's a margherita.

Both the pizza and the
tequila kind. You got that?

Good.

Come with me.

I've got an idea.

Let me guess.

You're gonna make
us all pancakes

for our last meal on Earth.

Not quite. I'm making a bomb.

A thermobaric bomb.

Using flour, the main
ingredient in bread?

And dust explosions.

It's why flour mills explode.

Same principle.

If we can direct a blast up that
chimney with a shaped charge,

we might be able to
collapse a column of air.

Well, that's one way
that it could go.

Let me guess. The other way
is we all get incinerated.

No, thermobaric bombs
typically don't burn people,

but it could swallow up
all our remaining oxygen.

Oh, perfect.

And the shock waves could

displace all our organs and
crush our bones and lungs.

Less is more, Blue.

Is that gunpowder?

Yep. I'm short a detonator.

One to disperse, one to ignite.

Great.

Okay, how are we gonna
trigger this thing?

We can jerry-rig it
from the fuse box.

Yes. Okay, we need a shaped
charge to direct the blast.

Here. Help me bend this thing.

Okay.

Are we actually doing this?

Any last words?

Yeah.

Fire in the hole.

Thoughts?

If you've got someone to pray
to, now's probably the time.

Uh-uh. No way.

Blue.

I think you might have
something you can lead us in.

Me?

No. N... I just hate the dark.

That's all.

I guess it's our time, then.

Kiss Marry Kill NCIS: Sydney.

Really?

You wanna spend
the final moments

riffing on whose bones you'd
like to hypothetically jump?

Yeah, I do.

I'll take it to my
grave, I'll promise.

That is inappropriate on
so many levels, Constable.

Mm.

So, as your superior...

I'll start.

There! The lights!
Something set 'em off!

Let's land there.

Just slow breathing from
here on out. You got me?

You okay?

Pulse has been dropping
for an hour now.

Everyone's has.

Not everyone's.

The saboteur needs us dead
before they make their move.

It's happening now.
Evie, on your feet.

- Oh, Mackey...
- On your feet!

They found what?

That sticky substance

I found on Lauren Fox.

It's an adhesive composed of

denatured alcohol, fumaric
acid, rosin and copal.

But what the hell is it?

Theatrical gum.

It's for gluing on wigs.

Wigs?

Good?

Let's go.

We need to go. Go.

- Evie!
- Mackey!

Hey, this way. This way.

Evie! Mackey!

- Hey! Are you okay?
- Ah!

- Are you okay?
- We will be.

With me.

Listen, take the
most affected up top.

- Paramedics are on their way.
- You got it.

D, it was me. I owe you a pizza.

Oh, thank God you're here.

I need to get to the hospital.

- My baby...
- We need to get her help quick.

- I need a doctor.
- You need a lawyer.

- JD, check the stall.
- Come again?

The one thing I
couldn't work out,

no matter how low
on oxygen we were

or how severe your contractions,

your heart rate never changed.

Cool under pressure.

So, what now?

Time to find out if
it's a boy or a girl.

Jamming device.

Hold on.

Monica Rowe.

Mon-roe.

Bit cute, isn't it?

50 people, two of them mine.

Never mess with my team.

Now, I can take you to hospital.

Oxygen deprivation does have
some nasty side effects.

I am seeing and
thinking clearly.

But thank you, Rosie.

Well, you just take it easy

and no more parties
for a while, hmm?

You know, the funny thing is

it's not even the craziest
party I've been to.

Hmm!

I didn't know you were
so inked, by the way.

- They're cool.
- Really?

Yeah, totally. They're you.

Thanks.

Oh, yeah. I'm starving.

These are my toppings.

- You order this?
- Why would I do that?

- Because you stole my last one.
- Says who?

You! You admitted it
down in the bunker.

Did I?

Must have been the
hypoxia talking.

Oh, it just really is
disgusting, by the way.

Then don't eat it.

Now, what the hell's
on this thing, then?

So...

while Blue was tripping
out down there,

she mentioned a certain
game you guys played.

- What game?
- Admit it.

We were busting our butts
up here while y'all...

y'all were down there
playing Kiss Marry Kill.

We thought we were gonna die.

We had to distract
ourselves somehow.

Okay, okay, all
right. Give it up.

Who chose what?

We're not dead yet.