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{y:i}It's Valentine's Day. {y:i}And this is Mr. Key|{y:i}on KPGB... {y:i}reminding you to snuggle up close|{y:i}to that special someone. Thanks for the reminder Mr. Key. {y:i}This one's from Neil in Studio City|{y:i}going out to his girl, Patrice. {y:i}Ah, isn't that a great song? {y:i}Thanks for keeping it tuned to|{y:i}KPGB on this Valentine's evening. {y:i}In local news, emergency crews|{y:i}are on high alert... {y:i}after three unrelated explosions|{y:i}that rocked the south land. {y:i}Early reports indicated that|{y:i}there are no casualties. {y:i}In other news... Go! Go! Hurry. Hold it! Freeze! Freeze! What kind of pig are you, homes?|That ain't no LAPD badge. Bureau of Postal Inspection. You're|both under arrest for violating. And I'm not a mailman. {y:i}Annie, I hope your meeting|{y:i}went well. {y:i}I'm in the file room|{y:i}getting caught up. {y:i}Your messages are on your desk. {y:i}The Lieutenant Governor's office|{y:i}called to confirm for Thursday. {y:i}And your tickets for the hockey|{y:i}game are in the manila envelope. {y:i}And since when|{y:i}do you like hockey?. {y:i}And who's the secret admirer?. {y:i}I'm thinking maybe|{y:i}he's the hockey fan. {y:i}If you need me,|{y:i}you know where I am. The fool that lives right there?|He's a real pendejo. Yeah, so you blow up his mailbox|three times in a month? Man he run over|my homeboy's bicycle. He ain't gonna pay for nothing. Why don't you put nails|in his driveway or something? Just leave his mailbox alone|and get out of here. I don't want to see you|around here again. Go! Damn! Oh my God. {y:i}Attention all emergency units. {y:i}We have an explosion|{y:i}on 4th & Figueroa. {y:i}Please respond.|{y:i}All units please respond. {y:i}This is Sky 4.|{y:i}We are on our way. {y:i}Station seven. {y:i}The location,|{y:i}traveling eastbound on Olympic. Oh shit. Are you all right? Oh shit. -You! Come here!|-You can't stay here. You got to take care of this guy.|I'm gonna go look for others. -We've got one down.|-Okay, I got it. Let's pull back. The gas line.|Clear the building! We need another hose! He's looking pretty bad.|We need to carry him out of here. -Where's the other team?|-You guys all right? -We're fine.|-Sure? -Sure.|-See if anybody else needs help. Get everybody out! -What the hell are you doing her?|-I'm fine, and how are you, Jack? Shit! Hell of a thing! We knew they'd strike again.|It wasn't a matter if just when. Is that what they're calling this?|A terrorist attack? A skyscraper, explosion,|pretty simple math nowadays. So how long were you|in there for? Less than ten minutes.|Smoke started to get to me. Did you see anything? You can't see in there.What I saw|here. lnitial blast burned white. -I'm talking...|-Magnesium? You boys are here quick.|LAPD already called you in? Nope. That would be the man. He's in town for the world cup|of hockey next week. Captain. I want this perimeter widened|to a six block radius. You got it. I want two units|four blocks north. You find a news crew,|you find Bob Brickland. Director Brickland, can you confirm|that there was a bomb? I have a brief statement. And I won't be taking|any questions at this time. As you are aware a little over|an hour ago... there was an explosion|in the building you see behind me. Director of Domestic Security. Acting Director. He still|has to be sworn in by the Senate. Yeah. Slam dunk. He's ruffled lots of feathers|to get there. It could go any way. Prickland has more friends than|a 100 dollar bill in a whorehouse. Easy tiger. Oh great. Look who's coming. This could get ugly. -Forrester!|-Agent Dreyer. LAPD said there was|an eyewitness. I'm gonna go back in the|building now. Where it's safe. -Happy Valentine's Day.|-What about my eyewitness? That would be me. -Beau? Jesus Christ.|-Great to see you too, Jane. Look, I'm sorry. I'm just|a little surprised. Okay? How's the Bureau of Postal|Inspection treating you? I love being a Postal Inspector.|It's basically a nonstop joyride. How about we pretend we like each|other and you help me with my job? I mean, I can't tell you how warm|and fuzzy that idea makes me feel. Stoddard. I don't have|the world's greatest memory. But, I swear I did not request|the services of the... What is it? -Postal Investigations?|-It's great to see you, too. -You're looking better than ever.|-Really? Is that a genuine|Presidential pin? And I'm betting you didn't|just buy that online, did you? Look... Director Brickland,|look this way, sir! Would you be kind enough to escort|ex-agent Stoddard to his vehicle? -Let's go, Stoddard.|-There's no need. I'm outta here. Yeah, we'll miss you. Let's get employees lists.|Client lists. I want to know everyone who was|in and out in the last two weeks. -What about Stoddard?|-What about him? -He's the eyewitness.|-So get a report. Yes, sir. Inspector Stoddard, I tried to|call you. Boy, you look like shit. How was your Valentine's Day? Don't ask. Who are you? Fred Bizzert.|Internal Revenues Service. You are a very hard man|to get a hold of, Inspector. My office. Denied. Denied.|Denied. Denied. Now, these meals. Do you have|the actual dated check stubs? I just shove everything into this|one little closet at the house. I don't think you fully appreciate|how serious is an l.R.S. audit. -I'm starting to.|-Dude! lRS guy, right? -I'm in the middle of an audit.|-No, no, no, no. Check this out. I do a lot of walkingon the job. These boots.|I take them on the mountain I mean hypothetically here, if l|were to wear them to work as well? Could I then potentially consider|them a write-off? That would depend on whether or|not you need to wear those boots. As opposed to just...|Buying them... Candi, I'm really busy in here.|Can this wait? {y:i}I'm afraid not, sir. There's an emergency development on|Kelly's case and requires attention. -Fred, I have to apologize.|-I'll stay here until you get back. Between you and me,|this could take days. Weeks, even. Candi will set you up for something|for the first week of next month. I really appreciate you coming in.|Thank you. Thanks for your time. -Inspector? Please? -Dude! Bro. The reason for the big boots.|Gnarly bunions. I could get like a doctor's note. Thank you.|No one from the FBI called? No. Wait. What did you do?|IRS, FBI. -Are you in trouble, Beau?|-When am I not? This make me an accomplice?|I have bartending school tonight. You'll make it. Nothing to be concerned about... but like a good pair of|corrective shoes can work wonders. Sir, if you don't mind, we're|trying to maintain perimeter here. We're asking to cross the street|if you want to take some pictures. You brought it up Please, sir. Yes, you're clear. Here you go. Sir, I don't want|to have to ask you again. Sir? If you stare at that any longer|you could go blind. My priest told me the same thing|in Sunday School. Why am I not surprised|to see you here? Seeing you yesterday... Awakened|some emotions in me. Piss off. What do we know? It's just like you said.|Magnesium traces everywhere. -Main charge?|-Nitric-ester-based. That's a hell of a bomb.|The nitro takes out the building... and the magnesium acts as a|secondary thermite. About 3500 degrees. Find the bomb vessel? Not even pieces. I guess it was|organic. Probably paper or wood. And the trigger? No. But we did find|splattered WP. White phosphorus? That combusts|as soon as it hits the air. This entire floor was leased by|a high-powered law firm. HNZ. Right. Harrington, Newman,|and something Russian. -Zakolov. Very good.|-Thank you. This office, Harrington's,|was ground zero. Was he... Harrington's a she,|you sexist pig you. Yeah, we found some|organic remains. Preliminary DNA results|match hers. It looks like Harrington picked|the wrong night to work late. -Got the building's employee list?|-Right here. But, like I said, I can't give out|that information, man. You're barking up|the wrong tree, boss. -Can I help you with something?|-The question is, do you want to? It's bureau case, Stoddard. We have|jurasdiction here. Need I say more? We at the Bureau of Postal|Inspection have a tradition... of cooperating with|other agencies. -If the bomb was mailed...|-That hasn't been established. Not yet. But, if it is we're looking|at a whole new ball game. -Is this to get back at Brickland?|-All of it? No. It was your own doing. If you took your head out of his|ass for a minute you'd realize... You punched him out in front|of the entire LA field office. Brickland was your boss. Now he's head of a cabinet|level Federal Agency. If you wanna work the victim angle|while playing Russian Roulette... with what's left of your career... Victim angle? The only real victim here was|Anne Harrington. Come here. Come here. Okay, this|was Anne Harrington's office. Here is our row of windows. On big meetings she thought it would|look imposing. That's ground zero. Glass-top desk, no doubt.|The power piece. Now there's five things on|every lawyer's desk. A Mont Blanc pen,|a legal pad... a picture of a loved one,|a calculator... and last the days mail. Career?|I'm just doing my job. -Can I help you?|-Dejuan Michaels? Inspector Stoddard, BPI. I want to know if you delivered any|packages to Harrington yesterday. -One of them was kind of different.|-What was different about it? Um, well the box|was hand-painted. Acrylic red hearts on a|cardboard box. Untrained child-like strokes.|But, it worked. I can show you. That's pretty close. They were all|over the box. You didn't happen to notice|if it had a return address? No, no. It was Express Mail.|I remember that. How heavy was it? About fifteen pounds,|give or take. Inspector Stoddard's office. Candi?|Is Van out to lunch? Physically? Tell him to look up the Express|Delivery tracking records... into and out of that building|on the day of the explosion. {y:i}Okay, will do. We're a hundred percent sure|it was a bomb. Fifteen dead.|Another twenty wounded. Mostly night crew,|janitorial workers... young lawyers|trying to make partner. And of course our ground zero|being Anne Harrington's office. -She was one of the founders.|-Yeah. I know who she was. {y:i}Director Brickland,|{y:i}phone for you, line 2. Excuse me. We all know why we're here,|so I'll just cut the formalities. The bomb was|nitric ether based... with a white phosphorous|component. Any of you who weren't sleeping|during munitions training... know that WP is a military grade|combustible. I want background checks on anyone|who worked there, went there... or took a piss in the building.|See if they've got military ties. I want you to check all|military supply stores. Shake them down. See if they're|selling the real shit. Calloway. Take a team and bury yourself|in the firm's files. Any law firm in business that long|has got a laundry list of enemies. I want you on the periphery.|Who does the windows cleans... the floors, does the goddamn|vending machines? And I want a full report back|by the day's end. That's it. I just got off the phone|with Washington. In light of this event... the Russian President|has been dropping hints... about pulling out of the|hockey game next week. You're kidding. If he cancels because I'm unable|to do my job, well... We can imagine how my confirmation|hearing's going to turn out. There'd be a line of people trying|to get credit for a job like this. But Intel's got nothing. Actually, I just got an update|from Intel. We now officially|have 15 different groups... and a handful of different whack|jobs calling in online for this. I want them all checked out. All the way to their dental records!|And I especially want the groups. This has to be|politically motivated. Do you think, Jane? You bet it is. The office|was not targeted by chance. They pissed someone|off all right. {y:i}Authorities have still not|{y:i}released any new information. {y:i}There are seemingly no new leads|{y:i}on last night's deadly explosion. {y:i}The death toll now believed to be|{y:i}as high as fifteen and counting. {y:i}The public is still desperate|{y:i}for answers. {y:i}And while the authorities remain|{y:i}tight-lipped about the incident... {y:i}the people of LA are plain|{y:i}frightened to go to work tomorrow. {y:i}I'm going to a caller now|{y:i}on line 2. {y:i}Gloria from Eagle Rock.|{y:i}Hello. {y:i}I think it's despicable that|{y:i}this is the world we live in now. {y:i}No one can feel safe anymore. {y:i}I work in downtown LA... {y:i}and I'm not going in.|{y:i}I'll stay at home. {y:i}Everyday it's something new now. {y:i}And I think that it's our criminal|{y:i}justice system that's failing us. {y:i}Thank you for your opinion,|{y:i}Gloria. {y:i}On line 3 I have Glen|{y:i}from North Hollywood. {y:i}Glen, you're on. {y:i}I think it's these terrorists out|{y:i}there with nothing better to do... -Should I call if he comes back?|-Yes, please. -That's a lot of packages.|-Popular building. But that is why Van is the man|with the skills... to pay the bills.|What's up brother? Local OTR number 1791,|delivered at 11 :00 am on the 13th. Okay, but how do you know|that was the one with the bomb... and not, say like chocolate,|someone's underwear? Van. Sometimes you just know. Get the originating P.O, name of the|employees who worked the windows. We find out who this signing agent|is, what time they run lunch break. Call me. Call you? I mean,|Candi does the, you know... Call me. Okay. Hey. What's up? If you're tailing me, there are|subtler ways, you know. -Like to join me for a bite to eat.|-Yeah, I'm really kind of busy. You kind of don't have a choice. -Let me choose the restaurant.|-Fine. Lunch. Now talk. -What the hell are you trying to do?|-At the moment, open this bag. Stop ducking the question. I was at Michael's house. He says|a man from your office was there. Asked all sorts of questions. Did he say whether or not|this guy was good looking? Damn it, Beau. You can't keep|doing this. Not on this case. You want to know what I'm doing,|you put me on the case. Until then, Dejuan Michaels|is just an old frat buddy. -That decision is not up to me.|-Of course it is. You just don't want to deal|with the repercussions. Convince me. Give it your|best shot. Right here. Right now. I've got the tracking number|of the package. I got it traced back down to the|local downtown branch. Policy there's anything over 1 pound|has to mailed from the window. The signing agent is going to give|us a physical description of him. That's good. But it's not|conclusive proof. Come on. What more do you need|to get me on this case? This is FBI territorial bullshit.|And you know it. Play by my rules. I call the shots.|None of your cowboy shit either. I'm not going to pick up the pieces|of my career on this one. Clear? -I don't like it.|-It is what it is. Feel like going to|the post office? I've got a date with|the signing agent. -I'm jealous.|-You drive. I bought lunch. Thank you. That weird-ass thing was what|took that building out down? We think so. Yes. Damn. I was holding that shit|in my hands, too. I got paint and shit on my hands. Messed up my nails.|Pissed me off. Tell us everything you recall|about the person who mailed it? White dude.|Kinda regular looking. He paid with cash.|Old school style, you know? Practically everybody's putting|their shit on plastic now. Anything else?|That's it? Just regular? He had a tattoo. Not that|that's anything unique. Everybody's painting their body's|these days. -Right here on his forearm.|-What did it look like? It wasn't color. Black and white.|Like a jailhouse tat. Do you think you could recognize|him? Would it help to see a book? Drawings of facial characteristics.|Haircuts. Color. Hell no. Dreyer here. -Thanks for your time.|-No problem. {y:i}Jane, I just got a letter from|{y:i}the bomber. {y:i}-Brickland wants you to get here.|-I'll be right there. Don't worry, gentlemen. This sucker's been x-rayed,|irradiated, and photographed... more than a Pakistani|carry-on at an lsraeli airport. Lawyers should serve the law. I want you to wait in the car. If Brickland has information,|I should know about it too. My rules. That was the deal. OYD. Does this|mean anything to anybody? It means our bomber has finally|made contact. We sure it's not a hoax? Post marked two days before the|bombing. lt'd be one hell of a hoax. I'll wire a copy to Cryptology|over in Quentico. Is that all we got? Our boys down in research went|digging groups that took claim. They found this:|James Grimes. Harrington put him away|ten years ago. Court transcripts several verbal|death threats made to her personally. And some to the judge, as well. Where is he now? He got parole 3 years ago. He's been|keeping a very low profile since. Wait. James Grimes|is the son of Henry Grimes... who was killed|in a Montana raid in '93. That's our motive. I want 24 hour|surveillance placed on this Grimes. And all of his pathetic|brotherhood as well. In the meantime, let's cross-check|the initials OYD... against every known|terrorist organization. It's not a terrorist organization. Mail delivering itself, is it? We got a well-oiled machine|down there. You know the whole rain,|sleet and snow deal. You care to tell us|what you're doing here? Before I answer that,|Bob let me ask you a question. According to|U.S. Federal Code... who has jurisdiction when|evidence is received via U.S. mail? Anyone? Anyone? Well, I'm glad to see you're so|well-versed in federal code. So, in your professional opinion|what do you think it is? This guy is no terrorist.|Terrorists want to take credit. Trust me on this one.|You don't have to lecture me... on what terrorism is. Harrington, Newman, Zakolov,|they were a lobbying firm. I can read the papers, thanks. White Phos. Was the trigger. I got an ID on a suspicious|package on a late day run. I got a witness who says|that at roughly 4:00 pm... there was nothing suspicious|in Harrington's office... other than said package. And we all know that it|wasn't strategically placed... for maximum damage. Someone didn't like|Ann Harrington. Everything else|is a smokescreen. All right, Stoddard.|So, what is it you want? I want to get this killer.|That's it. Yes, sir? Set up Inspector Stoddard with|remote access to our mainframe. He's our official liaison to|the Bureau of Postal Inspection. You'll have to excuse me.|I have my daily press briefing. Agent Dreyer? -May I talk to you for a moment?|-Certainly, sir. What's it then? -It isn't what you think.|-Just what do I think? He's been out there freelancing|this case behind our backs. If he really had anything|that could help... Look, and I understand. Beau is dangerous and careless|with his work and his career. We've both seen that first hand.|He's a reactionary, Jane. When you work like this, it's best|to proceed not just clean... -but sterile.|-I understand, sir. My current position requires a|certain diplomacy, as you are aware. You, however, are under|no such obligation. -That's correct, but I...|-Do I have to spell this out? Now, I don't want this guy|to botch... what could be a real turning point|in your career. Are we clear? Yes, sir. Good. Shit. -Hey Jack. Got a minute?|-What are you doing here? -What's up with the bum password?|-What are you talking about? It's not working. I've been trying to get into her|file. I keep getting shut down. This is the one you were given.|Hold on. Let me try something. -That's weird.|-What? Access is locked. Hold on a|second. Let me try something else. Okay. That's interesting.|N2. -That's got a distinctive odor.|-No time for your conspiracy shit. I'm not doing anything. Well? Who can get into|this file right now? Well, Brickland, for one. You know, I've wanted to ask you|for a long time though. All those years back.|Why'd you punch Brickland out? You know what, Jack?|Three years on the bomb squad. Five years as a field agent.|All under his command. I guess I just ran out of reasons|why I shouldn't. Right. Was it worth it? Get me a good password. I know that felt good. The three guys who are on the train|are drunk. One guy says,|"Excuse me, sir? Is this Wembley?" He says, "No, it's Thursday." The guy says, "Well me, too!|Let's stop off and have a beer." How about some dessert around|here? A little sugar rush. Come on. Dessert! Dessert! Look at this!|I could eat the whole thing. In fact, let's do that.|Let's all have one. Lemon for you.|I'm gonna go with the chocolate. Here, you want the pineapple|upside down cake? Just get out of my way. And Cohiba Churchill's|for everybody. Cubans. You're all unindicted|coconspirators. Help yourself. {y:i}We interrupt this program to|{y:i}bring you a special news report. {y:i}California Governor Mitchell has|{y:i}agreed to Mayor Hansen's request... {y:i}for a National Guard deployment|{y:i}across the county of Los Angeles... {y:i}in the wake of the second|{y:i}deadly bombing. {y:i}This one, claiming the lives|{y:i}of some fifty people... {y:i}including US Attorney|{y:i}Fred Goldenberg. {y:i}Authorities have not yet linked|{y:i}these two bombs as serial... {y:i}but all indicators|{y:i}point that way. {y:i}We are standing outside the scene|{y:i}of tonight's terror. {y:i}And here is Domestic Security|{y:i}Director, Robert Brickland. {y:i}May our prayers go out tonight|{y:i}to the victims and their families. {y:i}The people should rest assured|{y:i}that we're doing everything... {y:i}to hunt down those responsible|{y:i}and bring them to justice. {y:i}-Hello?|{y:i}-Director Brickland? {y:i}Please verify your|{y:i}ID at the tone. {y:i}Thank you, you're clear.|{y:i}Please hold for the President. {y:i}I'd like to announce the capture|{y:i}of these bastards in the next 24 h. Yes sir, Mr. President. {y:i}Make no mistake about it, this is|{y:i}not to be handled with kid gloves. I understand, sir. -Jack, you got anything?|-Yeah, take a look. The bomber sent us another letter.|Just came in an hour ago. "Prosecutors should|prosecute the guilty." OYD. Did we get anything|back from cryptology? -Nothing.|-What about the paper? The paper is the same as the last|batch. 20 pound, store copy paper. Letters are random clips.|Magazines, newspapers. Glue's off the shelf. No prints.|Not a single spec of bomb material. This guy is smart and|immaculate. Yeah, he is. About the only thing|of interest in these letters... is who they were mailed to.|Where is Brickland anyway? Ann Harrington's funeral. Some prominent people are attending|she had many powerful friends. Was he one of them? Sir. I understand there was|another letter. "Frouda?" -What the hell's that mean?|-We're not sure yet, sir. What about our eyewitness? The busboy?|They say they found an apron. Nothing. No human DNA.|No prints, nothing. -Somebody better find something.|-We're working as hard as we can. The public doesn't care about|how hard we're working. The only thing the public cares|about are results. Let's get some. Wait a minute. Okay, let me just|get in here a second. "For you dad?" It looks like we're starting|to build a motive. {y:i}Agent Dreyer,|{y:i}you have a call on line one. Yes. Yes. Thank you. What is it? They just spoke with the busboy. He gave a complete description|of the tattoo. It is a match for Grimes. Bingo. That's it. I want everyone assembled in the|task force center in five minutes. We're moving on Grimes. James Grimes, forty years old.|Son of Henry Grimes. Henry Grimes was killed|a few years back. In a raid on one|of their compounds. His son looks to be extracting|revenge on that. This is our guy. Now I'm going to turn this|over to Agent Dreyer. She will brief you on our mission's|tactical components. He has been on the receiving end|of our tactical raids more than once. He knows we like to hit between|2 and 5 am... when the average human|being is least alert. At any one time up to half a dozen|or so of his followers... can be found on the premises.|We've got them all profiled. All ex-military, all shooters. This is a surveillance photo of|Grimes' house, northeast of L.A. lnnocuous looking|from the outside... we have every reason to believe|it's been heavily fortified... and well stocked|with arms and supplies. For these guys it's s a wet dream|to be raided by the Feds. Weekends in the desert shooting|tins with AK's finally paid off. Yeah, well. Let's hope not. {y:i}Female subject one has exited|{y:i}the rear of the house. She's doing her laundry. I can't see anything else. It looks pretty quiet.|Gardner, what do you got? {y:i}Same. Same. Silent. {y:i}It's been the same all day. {y:i}Oh, heads up Gardner. Incoming vehicle coming up|the alley. White, early model sedan.|California license plate 2... alpha bravo Mary 543. Sedan belongs to|a Matthew S. Gainey. Armed robbery back in 92. Got out last year|on good behavior. Suspect carrying concealed weapon|at waist. Possible back-up piece|in right leg. In a right leg holster. Not my idea of good behavior. Shit. Lost him.|Kazinski, you got him? I got him. Subject two has entered|the rear of the house. {y:i}That places 4 more subjects in the|{y:i}house. Armed and very dangerous. We should move in now before|this turns into a Superbowl party. {y:i}Wait a minute.|{y:i}What's this? Ah shit. She's coming to me. She's coming to me. Me!|I told them about me. She didn't listen to me. What the hell's going on, Kazinski? It looks like she's throwing|out some trash. Me. Me, me. I said hello, lady.|I said hello, lady. -Did she make him?|-I can't tell. Did she make us?|Talk to me, Gardner. This mike is going. Oh, Christ. I don't think so.|You want me to move on? -No, hold a minute.|-Wait, wait, wait. All right, she's coming back|out of the house. I don't like this. All right, we move in.|Start strolling up to the house. {y:i}We're moving in. {y:i}Affermative. {y:i}We're rolling. Hey, lady! Can I get some water?|I'm kind of thirsty. Lady? Lady? Shots fired! Shots fired! Man down!|Man down! -FBI!|-We have the place surrounded! I want everyone out of the house|and on the lawn! Cover me! Okay, I've got|you covered! Go! Grimes, freeze! Man down! Grimes, freeze! Don't be stupid, Grimes.|Put it down! Did you do it?|Was it you? Pay back, right? Goldenberg and Harrington|put you away. Fucking feds.|Never get it right. Stoddard, are we clear? Stoddard, are we clear? Clear! -Good work, Gardner.|-Anytime. You all right? {y:i}Bullets rang out|{y:i}in the southland today {y:i}as Federal Agents raided|{y:i}a compound... {y:i}operated by suspected bomber|{y:i}James Grimes. {y:i}Grimes spent 15 years in prison|{y:i}before being released 2 years ago. {y:i}The carefully planned raid|{y:i}ended in gunfire today, {y:i}killing four Federal Agents,|{y:i}along with six members of the... {y:i}Questions still remain|{y:i}if Los Angeles can get back to... {y:i}the timely capture|{y:i}of the suspected bomber... {y:i}was Interim Director|{y:i}of Homeland Security... {y:i}Robert Brickland... {y:i}he will be meeting|{y:i}with the President... {y:i}later today to discuss|{y:i}future security issues. How's it going? {y:i}Good, I guess.|{y:i}You? Just doing some clean up|on these files. Yeah, me too. Everything look|kosher to you? Well, now that|you mention it. No. {y:i}I've got something on my mind.|Why? Let's grab some|beers later. Talk. -Yeah, good idea.|-I'll see you later. -Dude, where are you going?|-For a walk. Hold my calls,|will you? Van said I could find|you somewhere around here. -He's an interesting one.|-You're kind. So, how are you? I'm fine. I'm just|getting back to normal. Results come back from Grimes. Everything we would expect. It looks like it was Grimes|and who works for him there. Tests came back from evidence|found in the basement. Methamphetamine production|and high explosives in there. It's pretty conclusive. That's great. I just wanted to tell you|I think you did a fantastic job. Brickland's been talking|about reinstating you as an agent. I'll believe that|when I see it. -Always the cynic?|-Always the realist. If there's something|you wanna say, say it. -Something just doesn't add up.|-About what? The whole thing.|Grimes.The bombings. Why address|the letters to Brickland? Why not? An anti-establishment group|attacks the establishment? Who better than that|to get the recognition they need? Harrington and Goldenberg|were very personal to Grimes. -Brickland wasn't.|-What do you think it is? With all this hard evidence,|Grimes is not the man? -I don't know.|-Look, Beau. I've got to get to the stadium|for a security briefing. You can imagine how|Brickland is regarding security. Thanks. It means a lot. Then you're welcome. This is the last time|I let you handle the invoices. That's so Gemini of you. I feel like our compatibility... Some hottie from the FBI|came to see you. Did she find you? If that's the FBI's new look|I like where they're headed in. You throwing some|back into that? Not quite. What am I going to do with you|I thought we headed for progress. We were headed for breakthrough. When was the last time|you even had a date? I've been meaning|to talk to you about that. In your dreams. {y:i}You've reached Jack Forrester's|{y:i}office. Leave a message. My liege. Look at this. FBI files. Protected FBI file,l need access to|Do you think you can open it? -That's a Federal crime.|-Yes it is. -I can go to jail.|-Yes, you could. -I'll need a raise.|-You got it. -Where you going?|-I've got to talk to a lawyer. I'm the one that's going|to need a lawyer. {y:i}Stuart Newman? {y:i}Your secretary said|{y:i}I'd find you here. {y:i}Beau Stoddard,|{y:i}Postal Inspectors Office. I'd like to ask you some questions|about Ann Harrington. Ann made the firm|what it is today. I don't know what|we'll do without her. How'd you meet her? I recruited her. I stole her away|from the US Attorney's office. I'm a tax specialist. who needed a litigator|to round out the team. Ann was brilliant.|Driven. There wasn't anything|she couldn't handle. And she handled everything. In retrospect,it's a blessing|she didn't have a family. She was too busy|for one. Aren't we all? Can you tell me|anything about Grimes. It's just another example|of a failed system. A guy like that winds up|on the street. Makes you wonder|what we're all fighting for. I know what you mean.|Did Ann ever mention Grimes? It was her case|before she joined our firm. Interesting, no?|What's that? A convicted felon for making|several death threats is paroled... and she doesn't bring it up? We're lawyers,|Mr. Stoddard. If I had a dime for every threat|from a disgruntled client I would be a rich man. But, you are a rich man.|See what I mean? -How does the system fail?|-What's that? The system. How does it let a guy|like Grimes back out on the street? Overcrowded prisons,|lack of funding... a drunk judge asleep on the bench.|Take your pick. That's what I'm asking. Guy's in jail for drug trafficking,|weapons violations, armed robbery... Don't forget the little|incident in prison. What was that? He stabbed his cell mate|to death with a shank. -Claimed it was self-defense.|-I didn't know that. He's gone now. Karma, I guess. I guess so. Have a nice day, Mr. Stoddard. Hello? {y:i}-Van, how's that file coming?|-I am giving it all I've got... {y:i}I need this. I need it warp speed. Is this what work is?|I've been wondering... How close are we? {y:i}-We're close. We're close.|-Good. This is Jane. Beau? What's going on? {y:i}How familiar are you|{y:i}with the Grimes file? As familiar as I have to be.|Why? What's up? {y:i}In prison, Grimes killed a man.|{y:i}Do you know who that was? It was weird. It was an accountant.|White collar criminal. -What are you looking for?|-I'll tell you when I know. {y:i}You've reached Jack Forrester's|{y:i}office. Please leave a message. -Have you seen Jack around?|-Not all day. Thanks. {y:i}-Not lately.|-What's up? -I'm in.|{y:i}-What do you got? {y:i}-This is so interesting.|-Are you in the Grimes file? Who was Grimes' cell mate|that he murdered? {y:i}Um, let's see.|{y:i}Someone named Kerwin. So Kerwin is dead? So what's interesting? They let him out two years after|the murder for good behavior. -Guess who signed the release?|-Hold on. -Some guy named Hancock.|-Negative. I'm looking at the signature|of one Robert Brickland. -What?|-Dude, this stuff is intense. You should see the stuff|they've got on me. I need you to find out everything|you can on Steven Kerwin. Copy everything, sir. Meet me at 5345 7th Street|now. Nice of you to show. Let's just say I got a tip|and I trust the source. I've got some news for you.|Guess who signed Grimes' release? -I'm listening.|-Brickland. No, he didn't. I know that file.|Brickland had nothing with it. Which version did you read?|The sanitized one? He's got the N2|security access. He doctored the file. He's so in deep in this mess,|it's coming out of his ears. -Where's Forrester?|-I don't know. Car's cold. All right, let's find Forrester,|then we'll deal with Brickland. I go upstairs, you go to basement.|We'll meet in the hallway in five. Yes, ma'am. Holy shit. What's going on, Beau? Forrester is downstairs.|He's dead. -What?|-Shot in the head. Oh my God.|We have to put out an alert. The bomber is still on the loose. Holy shit. Oh, thank God.|Are you okay? That was close. You want to go|to a hockey game? Love to. We've got to get to Brickland|before Kerwin does. Ladies and gentlemen... The night we've all|been waiting for. The first International|World Cup hockey game! And after all|that's happened... we could not have askedfor a better|event to bring people together... {y:i}and lift the spirits of a city... {y:i}still recovering from a series|{y:i}of truly awful events. Rumors of The Russians|pulling out... only seemed to increase|the focus on tonight's game... as we come together|in unity. In harmony... For peace. For sport.|For competition. For hockey!|Let's play! You're gonna be so happy|not to pull out. This exactly the kind of relations|that our two countries need... to move us forward together|in this new century. Your boy Markov|is good. But, he's going to get hell|getting a shot passed Sutter. Excuse me. {y:i}Why didn't you tell us|{y:i}about Kerwin? Who? What are you talking about?|Why aren't you here? {y:i}Forrester is dead.|{y:i}Kerwin is the bomber. He's targeting you.|You have to clear the stadium. That doesn't make any sense.|I just can't... {y:i}Just do it now! Let's go enjoy a game.|Russell, you come with me. Take our guests up|to the VlP. -Yes, sir.|-I'll be up there in a minute. -May I help you?|-Like you helped my father? That's the kind of help|I don't need. You're him. Steve Kerwin's son. You're the one doing all this. In my hand is a detonator. I can take out a thousand lives|with the push of a button. Do you think I don't know|what you did? Do you? I would let that go|to voice mail. You're bluffing. You should keep|your mouth shut. You're so full of shit,|you might get an overflow. You are a coward. Wrong answer. You think I'm bluffing? What about this? I want you to call|Jane Dreyer. Tell her if I smell a fed|within 20 feet from us, boom. If they try to evacuate|the building, boom. If they try to take me out... I can only assure you|that I have a contingency plan. What are you waiting for?|Start dialing. Let's make this|a walk and talk, shall we? Dreyer here. {y:i}Jane. Listen to me. Kerwin has|{y:i}this place wired to blow. Do not evacuate.|Do not send in the troops. {y:i}And do not try to find me.|{y:i}He will kill us all. But we have to get|these people out of here. -You do and we'll all die.|{y:i}-What does he want? He has got this whole place|wired like one big bomb. -We have to evacuate.|-No, we can't. This is Jane Dreyer from the FBI.|do you copy? {y:i}Copy, Agent Dreyer|{y:i}Go ahead. {y:i}I want all police, security,|{y:i}and federal agents... {y:i}to keep a 100 foot perimeter|{y:i}in all directions. {y:i}Copy that. If we evacuate,|he will blow it. -And if he blows it anyway?|-You wanna make that call? -I want to find that bomb.|-We've got a negotiator coming in. We've got contact with Brickland.|Let's just see what this guy wants. This guy doesn't want anything. He said all feds|keep a distance. It's a good thing|I'm a postal inspector. Come on. Open it. -What do you want?|-In good time. Sit down. You know what to do|with them. Stick save!|Unbelievable! Come on. Where are you? All right. All right. Damn zipper. A big night for you.|Exciting, isn't it? The sooner you tell what you want,|the sooner we can make a deal. A deal? With you,|Mr. Clean? Mr. Robert Brickland. Soon to be|Director of Domestic Security. You failure.|Here's the deal. You're gonna|die tonight. What are you|talking about? I'm talking|about revenge. Clear on out. Hello? {y:i}Harrington, Goldenberg, Grimes. You, Mr. Brickland.|You're the last piece. Brickland is in the building.|His cell phone is on. Have the eye in the sky grab|his signal and his exact location. {y:i}Copy that, Agent Dreyer. You set my father up. You framed an innocent man|for tax fraud... so that you|and Ann Harrington... could claim the millions|that he made. Fuck! Then you had him transferred|to a maximum security prison... Then you made a deal|with Grimes, to have him killed. -That's not what happened.|-No? What happened. There must have|some kind of mistake. Your father was supposedto be|taken care of once he got out. He wasn't supposed|to get out. -You don't know any...|-Shut up! This tape is wired|to a fire proof box. This is your last interview. Exactly what is it you|want me to say? I'll blow this building tonight.|And thousands of people will die. And they're going to find|this taped confession of yours. Hold on. Let me do your|make-up first. There's lip color.|How about some blush? What's this? Are you trying to fuck with me?|You think I would hesitate? Well, you're wrong. When you're at home by yourself|do you know you're crazy? Do you look in|the mirror and say... "Damn I'm one sick|motherfucker"? Holy cow! Oh my God!|Look at this. This is unbelievable. Now for the big boom. Stoddard! Get the detonator! Get the detonator! Shoot the security guard!|Shoot him! Don't move! -We've got 2 minutes to get out.|-Let's go! Everyone! Let's get out of the stadium. I want everyone out of the stadium.|All agents. Let's go, let's go! 16, 723 people in the arena.|Sixteen thousand. Enough explosives to kill|everyone in the place... and a madman with the will|to do it. Because of this team... 16, 721 people walked out|of there alive. A handful of people|wounded in the panic. With only a couple|of fatalities. One of which was|Steven Kerwin Jr. This office... This unit turned an awful moment|in the history of this nation... into one shining|moment in security. That's great.|Now for the good stuff. I'd like to single out|a couple of people... For, without|their individual effort... all of this may have|gone down differently. Miss Jane Dreyer.|And of course... Mr. Beau Stoddard. Job well done. This just came for you. Thank you. Apparently Kerwin's video tape has|been recovered from the wreckage. I'll take that to evidence|on my way out. If I could see... -I would love to see that tape.|-I would, as well. Well, so would I.|But, the proper... We all have clearance here. Play on. Looks like he never hit record. Maybe it was|damaged in the blast. -That's a shame.|-Why? He's dead. It's not like he can|add to his sentence. We were hoping they were|going to add it to yours. -Mine? What are you talking about?|-Agent Stoddard? Robert Brickland made|a cell phone call to Intel... they would get the exact location|of where they were in the stadium. What Brickland didn't count on|is that Intel recorded the message. {y:i}No?|{y:i}What happened? {y:i}It must have been some|{y:i}kind of mistake. {y:i}Your father was supposed to be|{y:i}taken care of once he got out. {y:i}He wasn't supposed to get out. {y:i}-You don't know any...|{y:i}-Shut up! What is this bullshit? These are ramblings of a madman.|You people can't be serious. Where's your evidence? Well, I didn't have any. But, I do now, because|of Beau Stoddard. You son of a bitch. You personally authorizedthe early|release of Grimes from prison. Recognize that signature? You then used your office|to falsify federal documents. That's against the law, Robert. Is that all you got? Well, that and the so-called|lost documents... which detail that you Harrington|and Kerwin were business partners. Those are some|interesting records. So much for your|confirmation hearing. Cuff him. Cuff me? You have the right|to remain silent. Anything you say can... -Shut the fuck up.|-Gladly. Let's go. |
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