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Jake 2.0 Ep 1.4 - Continuity (And Globes) Are For Wimps
Wednesday, October 08 @ 14:41:17 EDT
By Deeablo
"Arms and the Girl"
Previously on Jake 2.0: Same previouslies, with a twist: reverse angles and a few new shots. Woo! Jake. NSA seal. Drink! Another NSA seal. Drink again! Similar audio track. "I'm Jake Foley, Tech Support." Sarah: "I see you're still with the NSA." Diane: "Oh, my god. We've got a problem. You see how the nanites have positioned themselves along the central nervous system? This guy can interface with technology. Every one of his body functions is enhanced." Beckett has "been authorized to create a Special Ops team with [Jake] at its core." Wait, what's this? New previouslies? Jake asks about his cover. Jake carries a tray of champagne-filled glasses at the Chinese Embassy Sarah spots him. Jake tells Sarah he's an undercover agent. Sarah and her scary, scary teeth think that's hilarious. Thankfully, there's none of what passed for "smoldering" between Bad Wig [Bai Ling] and Kyle.
Remember how I noticed recycled footage on this show? We see the exact shot used as last week's opener: the same space satellite moves past the [probably same] camera. Honestly, the film speed is the only difference. I guess you gotta cut corners at UPN. Not here at PanFandom, though—I double-checked the footage myself. Ah, the joy of minutiae. Anyway, we pan down through the clouds to "The Phillipines, Marinduque Island." Hmmm. I wonder if that's anywhere near the PHILIPPINES. Holy cats! Can't Greenwalt et al hire a freaking script supervisor, or better yet, use automatic spellchecker? Gads. Not the best way to start the show, people: recognizable footage followed by a spelling error. This isn't going to snare any West Wing fans. They know geography and spelling and shit. [And there's a distinct lack of sexual tension between vampires if they're hoping to lure the Angel crowd.—Illyria] At any rate, Marinduque Island looks a lot like Western Canada. Two Filipino (or is that Fillipino?) men, one dressed in a light-colored suit and the other in a beige jacket and darker pants, stand across from two black men next to some sort of silver tank or something. I wonder if the black guys are American. Hey, one of them is opening a shiny silver briefcase. That tears it. Minutiae alert: in the first shot, Dark Pants is standing to the left of Light Suit. A quick cut to the baddie and back to the buyers now shows Dark Pants slightly in front of Light Suit and on his other side. Hey, after that Phillipines/Philippines thang, I'm noticing EVERYTHING.
Close-up on the briefcase's contents: a pack of non-brand cigarettes—"Morley"—and a key attached to a narrow keychain. The seller, a large black man dressed in a black suit, a deep plum shirt, and a leather knee-length jacket—he's gotta be roasting in that!—says that "Mr. Carano has instructed me to ask for five million dollars." At least that's what the closed captioning says he says. I'm not sure if it is the guy's voice itself or the fact that it seems so obviously added during post production that bothers me more. It's distracting is what it is. What with the same clips, bad spelling, and not-that-good looping, I might have to pour myself a drink soon. The product being sold is micro semtex. Dark Pants wants to know how much for all of it. Bald Black Baddie (henceforth known as B3) tells him $20 million. B3 then begins his pitch, picking up the cigarette pack and key chain. He walks through the brush toward a broken-down bus. "Say you don't want to draw attention to yourself by dropping off a small package, or a backpack that cries out to any security guard with half a brain, 'I'm a bomb.'" He's supposed to convey confidence and expertise, but he just sounds flat. Plus, screaming backpacks? I can't hear a single footstep across that sand covered with dry vegetation, but I can hear the wannabe-Terminator-style music thumping underneath. Gah. B3 places the Morleys (oh, okay—heh) in the floor of the bus and walks back to his audience. He blathers about faulty timers, wires, and ignition switches. He pushes the keychain, and the bluescreen behind him shows the broken-down bus blowing up badly. Dark Pants, Light Suit, and B3's henchman all cower from the explosion, but B3 stands tall. The editing crew or someone else in post adds red over the left half of the screen in an unsuccessful attempt to convince the viewing audience that the four actors are indeed close to a flaming bus carcass. In a close-up (I still know it's a bluescreen—fakers!) B3 says a device like that will be "extremely useful." Moral of the story? Smoking is bad. Or smoking kills. Either one.
Credits. "Now I can do things I never dreamed of." Is one of those things hire a continuity editor?
What the? Okay, now I'm really getting annoyed. Y'all remember the beginning of the second episode? "Satellite. Earth. We zoom to Tunisia (so the tagline tells us)." Well, gee. Apparently we're going to Africa again, because here's the exact. Same. Footage. Yes, I know it's redundant to say "exact same," but hell. There's even a glimpse of the Mediterranean Sea (or is that Medditeranean?) from this view. So I guess the logical location as we zoom in is "U.S. border 8km." The fuck? Also, shouldn't there be a space between the number and the measurement? Help me, I can't stop editing! A woman voiceovers that "Operation Canada Goose is complete" as we see various cars, trucks, and government personnel parked at the scene. A highway at night: a Canadian highway. The tagline reads Govenlock, Canada, even though there's no town in sight. Kyle drives up, red light flashing on the dashboard of his car. He's wearing jeans. I like it. Kyle passes soldiers unpacking crates of automatic guns, and he approaches a semi. The perps are dragged away by various agents, one of whom disturbingly resembles Teddy Kennedy. Jake climbs down the side of the truck's trailer; he obviously rode on the top of the truck during this mission. Kyle asks him how he's doing. More soldiers rush past. Jake replies that he'll live, and Kyle says "a whole lot of other people will, too." It looks as if Kyle meant to do the "good work, man" arm clasp or punch, but Jake kind of turns away, so it looks more as if Kyle is reaching to hold Jake's hand. Theirloveissohoyay! Kyle asks how Jake knew that this truck was the right one. Jake shares that he "interfaced" with the driver's cell phone (what, "eavesdropped" too fancy a word for you, nanite boy?) and his knowledge of "Serbo-Croatian is minimal, but I thought he said something about his mother's cheese gun." Shout out? Kyle suggests they only use the word "gun" in their report. Jake agrees.
Washington Obelisk. Capitol. Luigi's. The hallway outside Jake's apartment. A perky neighbor with ringlets of blonde hair approaches Jake with an armful of newspapers. Identified as "Karen," she simpers that she's been taking in his newspapers for him. What is it with annoying blonde women on this show? Karen hands him the papers but doesn't step back. Personal space, Karen! She inquires about his vacation and Jake, obviously uncomfortable, says that cruise ships are great for "getting away from it all." Karen blithely says she though he went to Yellowstone. Right, Jake covers. Yellowstone by way of Panama. In six days, Karen asks. Jake says there wasn't much to see in Panama. Oh ho ho, see Jake is still learning the spy ropes ho ho hee oh my sides. Noticing the butterfly bandage on his eyebrow, Karen wonders if Jake was in a fight. Jake babbles about his overhead luggage shifting during the flight. Karen points out, rightly so, that his suitcase is awfully big for a carry-on. Jake gives up. "Well. Night, Karen," he says as he squeezes through his door and shuts it in her face. Heh. I wonder if Karen will figure into later episodes. Not that I want her to. Jake sighs with relief along with the rest of us, and walks directly (crotch first) into the camera, which goes from black to...
. . . the Reflecting Pool and the obelisk that is Washington Monument. Wait, was that supposed to be subliminal? Yowzers. NSA hallways. No seal? Man, I need a drink! Jake walks and talks (ha! Take that, West Wing!) on his cell phone, leaving a message for Sarah. He mentions phone tag and then geeks out. "I was on a cruise to Yellow-- Panama. Yellow Panama. It's on the coast? It's a little touristy, but that's pretty much it. So. You're it." Jake hangs up. "That was lame." "Well, cumbersome maybe," Kyle suaves as he approached Jake from behind. Ahem. This leads to a segueway about the hardships of being an agent. Blah blah keeping secrets blah blah single life blah blah. "We've got something," Kyle says and grabs Jake's arm to pull him out of frame. Kyle is awfully touchy-feely this episode. Perhaps his asking Jake to stab him in the throat as hard as Jake could during last week's torture scene was just foreplay?
The tiny war room that is Hello, Joshua Junior. You know, I'm starting to dread this set. I've read that the cast of Buffy the Vampire Slayer didn't like shooting in the Sunnydale High Library during Seasons 1-3 because they all knew that those scenes would have a lot of exposition. I feel you, Giles. No, really. Could you move a little to the left? Indeed, Beckett informs her agents that "Ruben Carano is less that 36 hours from completing a multimillion dollar deal with the terrorist group Soledad for 100 kilos of compressed micro semtex." Soledad blew up "that nightclub" and two embassies. Ten times more powerful than regular semtex, a wad (heh) of micro semtex the size of a nine-volt battery has a "fragmentation pattern of 100 yards." Why does that sound like a design Carson would choose on Queer Eye? No one knows where Carano is, and he'll sell anything to anyone, even chemical weapons. He's wanted in nine countries, and he's only been spotted once in the last three years. Interpol spotted Carano in Vienna (maybe he went for the sausages). Alonzo Reed—B3—is Carano's right-hand man and puts together all the deals. I would like to point out that the closed captioning spelled "Philippines" correctly. Good job! Carano's wife is dead, but he has two brothers and a daughter, "all civilians." At that prompt, the obviously-a-publicity-shot photograph of the daughter is enlarged on the screen. She's wearing a green shirt in front of a red background, and she's not looking at the camera. Jake asks what his role is the mission is. In nice continuity from last week (see, I can point out the good stuff, rare as it seems to be lately) Jake mentions that he speaks "pretty fair EspaÒol." Jake tells him he will be watching Carano's daughter, Theresa. Theresa has a gallery at Adams Morgan, and Jake is to keep an eye on her in the off-chance that her father contacts her. Kyle wonders if Jake can handle a stakeout. "Following a girl around for hours? It'll be just like college." Oh my sides. Not. Kyle tells him that he is to have no contact with the subject. "No contact," Jake repeats. And sighs, "Just like college." Moral of this story? Stalkers are just misunderstood. And infected with tiny, tiny robots.
Stakeout. Takeout. You're busted. Whoops, sorry. That's not a real song. Jake is in a car, all professional with a Twizzler hanging out of his mouth. He mumbles to himself as he adjusts the driver's side mirror for a better look at his target. "Okay. Here we go. Oh-nine hundred hours." He chomps off part of his licorice. Hee. We see the side mirror, and suddenly it fills the screen with the building from the opposite side of the street. This is where I started losing it. Not because the name of building is labeled with the clearly Canadian spelling "Harbour Bay." I think at this point, I can accept and even appreciate the Canadian-ness that is Jake 2.0's Washington, D.C. Overcast skies, Vancouver buses, and the like. Not because some of the effects, while cheesy, can still be effective and not distracting. No, what bothers me is that if we were looking in a mirror, shouldn't the lettering be in REVERSE? You know, it being reflected into a mirror and all?
That's IT! I've had it! We're only ten minutes into the episode, including commercials, and I've HAD. IT. I am so peeved I can't see straight. What do you mean there's ten minutes until the next commercial? You mean we're not even halfway through Act One? Please, for the love of Tom Welling and all that is holy, I'VE HAD IT!!! No more. NO!!!
[musical interlude]
Okay. I've fortified myself with chocolate Zingers and Wild Berry Skittles. Bless you, White Hen Pantry. I can't let the terrorists win. Inside Harbour Bay, Theresa is restoring a painting. Emmanuelle Chriqui may look familiar to some of you in Pop Fandom—she was Lance Bass's love interest in On the Line. Insert (heh) obvious joke here. She's wearing a white tank top and jeans. Um, is that the best outfit to wear whilst working with paints, oils, and various chemicals? ["No," says your handy-dandy editor with a cabinet full of oils and acrylics.—Illyria] Jake is describing Theresa's movements to someone back at Hello, Joshua Junior. Jake must have been fitted with a transmitter before the stakeout. A female voice tells Jake to just watch Theresa. He replies, "Yeah. Okay. Copy... over." Jake looks up and sees a meter maid. Jake starts to panic. Diane tells him to just use his powers on the parking meter. It's mechanical, so he can't. Of course this is when Theresa decides to leave her loft. Jake gets out of the car and searches for coinage. Of course he doesn't have any. Theresa is on the street. Jake tells the meter maid to wait until he gets change. But someone is feeding the meter for him. Of course it's Theresa. Jake thanks her without looking her in the eye and shuffles away. "You're welcome," she snots, and Jake winces. He can't deny his good upbringing. Damn you, manners! He turns around and offers to pay her back and pulls out a twenty-dollar bill. She says she's not going to take his last twenty and he says the ticket would have been fifty and am I really recapping this shite? Flirt blather use it to buy paints wait how does he know she's painter? Jake points out the smudges on her white tank top and says he knows there are a lot of galleries in the area, so he figures she's an artist. She tells him she's more into restoration, and would he like to see something?
NSA seal. Drink! Drink, for the love of Tom. Agent WhoTheHell, a female agent who had two lines in the exposition scene and the one with whom Jake had been talking, tells Kyle there's a problem.
Harbour Bay Building. Theresa looks at a painting as Jake looks at Theresa. One of the first of many clichÈs about art, love, and life falls from Theresa's dewy lips. "Sometimes the most beautiful things are hiding behind years of neglect." Emmanuelle Chriqui is quite pretty, and she's not Sarah, which is a big plus. She quits the art history lesson long enough to ask Jake what he does. He tells her he's into restoration too. "I restore computers." "'I restore computers'?" Kyle repeats—and rolls his eyes—as he listens to Jake's fumbling in Hello, Joshua Junior. rolls his eyes. Beckett, Diane, and Agent WhoTheHell are also on hand. "How do you run into the mark in the first hour?" Beckett wonders. Kyle asks if Jake tried to hit on Theresa, but Diane says Theresa made the first move. Jake and Theresa continue to talk, and she finally introduces herself. Jake, hesitating only slightly, identifies himself as Alan Hergott. He babbles about the family name, traced back to his great-grandfather from Prussia, and back at Hello, Joshua Junior, Kyle closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose as Jake continues to offer way too much worthless information. Hee!
Theresa asks Jake if he always this nervous around women. His response: "Uh... yeah, pretty much." Jake oh wows over a painting and touches it before he realizes that the paint is still wet. Theresa continues to share, talking about how she earned a degree in international business ("so dull") before turning to art. Jake says her family must not have liked her career change very much. What's this? Jake remembering his job? Theresa says that her father is a "practical guy" who didn't want her to be dependent on a man like the other women in her family. Jake, relaxed now, jokes, "Yeah, my dad didn't want me to depend on a man either. Especially him." Any comfort screeches to a halt when Jake discovers another painting. It's of a nude woman sitting on a green sofa. I'd call it tasteful (as there is nary a hit of boob or bush to be seen), but it's not that well done. It's a view from the back and the side: one arm is draped across the back of the sofa, the other is holding the woman's weight as she sits up straight, her legs stretched out in front of her. Her head and shoulders face away from the viewer. "That looks dry," Jake gulps, and Theresa obviouses that it is a self portrait. No fucking way. There's no way anyone can paint him/herself from the angle shown in the portrait unless one is working from a photograph. Then again, this is the place of magic, nonreflecting mirrors... so I guess anything is possible. Jake finally makes up something about TrelCorp and Centrino processors. He thanks her for showing him her work. "It's really amazing," he says earnestly, and aw, Christopher Gorham conveys Jake's sincerity really well here. "You know where to find me," Theresa murmurs.
Hello, Joshua Junior. Dressing down time. Kyle is grilling Jake, although he's not TOO hard on him. That's for later. "But she put money in my meter. I didn't want to seem rude!" Jake whines. Beckett calls Kyle away. Jake looks at Diane, who is sour-faced. He tries to explain himself, but she just mmm-hmmms and adds that it seems a bit aggressive. Theresa is a total stranger who gives him money and invites her up to his apartment on the spur of the moment. Jake argues that he and Theresa are not strangers. "We had the whole parking meter thing" and talked about restoration. Jake demands to know if it's so hard to believe that this woman might be interested in him. Before Diane can answer, Kyle and Beckett come back. Beckett informs Jake that there's an unconfirmed sighting of the terrorists in Colombia but not a single hit from Carano in 12 hours. Jake apologizes, but Beckett says perhaps that "Mr. Alan Hergott" can help them. "My sixth grade teacher?" Jake dorks. Diane closes her eyes (there's a lot of that going on in this episode), amazed at Jake's ineptitude. Kyle doesn't think that it's a god idea, but Diane snarks that Theresa "likes him." Beckett says Jake can get Theresa to trust him. Jake doesn't "want to use her like that." Beckett smiles a bit indulgently as she waits for him to realize he has no choice. Beckett tells someone to get a painting. Diane thirdgrades, "Go Alan!" complete with a thumbs up. Christopher Gorham makes a great "whatever, loser" face at her.
Wipe to Jake carrying a painting in need of restoration down the NSA hallways. Diane skips up to him, ribbing "Alan" about his mission. Jake isn't excited about lying to Theresa, and Diane innocently says it's just part of the job. Jake says he's not good at the lying part. Diane can't believe he's never lied to a woman. Jake walks off saying he "never used to."
Washington at night. Obelisk! Harbour Bay apartment. Theresa is wearing another tight white shirt, although this one has minimal sleevage. Jake wonders if she could help him. Theresa critiques the painting. Subtle composition blah blah good palate blah blah painted quickly blah blah. Jake just gazes at her, and we can tell he likes her even more because she actually knows something about art and has a passion for it. Or maybe I'm projecting. "The plenary painters always strove to get their landscapes done in one sitting." This is where I would whip out my art history knowledge—including that it was the Impressionists who did this, and I have never heard of "plenary" painters—but I just want to get out of this recap (and I'm sure y'all do too). [Bad art history makes the baby Jesus cry. Or get covered in splinters and open sores in a Gr¸newald.—Illyria] Jake, who has been busy staring and not listening, fumbles a "why?" And Theresa's off again. "They wanted to capture life, the moment. They didn't want to put it in a glass jar for study." Yeah, because they were artists. We know. Now she talks about the brush strokes, thick and bold. She tells Jake to "feel it." She means the painting, and as he reaches for the canvas, she puts her hand over his and guides it down the artwork. "Yeah," Jake breathes. "It's... " say thick! Say thick! "... bold." Damn. And I'm not buying the "heat" here, either. Maybe the lack of attention to details has killed my love meter. Or maybe they have no chemistry, even though they're both attractive people. Theresa asks him why he bought the painting. Blah blah it's open blah blah path goes nowhere blah blah trees are tall and dense. Christopher Gorham does a good job, as usual, but where are the commercials? Where? Theresa murmurs, "Take off your shirt." Gee, is she going to jump him right there. Oh, wait. They're only going to restore the painting. I was so sure it was going to be about The Sex. Theresa leaves the room to get some new brushes and paints, and Jake watches her walk away. Jake multitasks by unbuttoning his short and snooping. We hear Jake's trademark superpowers noise as he zihzihzihzihzuhs the caller I.D. box, which is empty. She calls out that there's beer in the fridge. Jake okays back, and starts looking at some mail on a table, some of which is in international envelopes.
Of course Jake is by a lamp and a window, making his activities easy to observe from outside Harbour Bay. "I'll tell you what he's doing," a man says. Hey, I know that flat post-production voice. It's B3 and he's spying on our spy. "He's poking around the desk, looking at some mail. He's definitely a wrong number." Who talks like this? B3 intones, "Don't worry, Carano. I'll find out who he really is and what he's really up to." Really?
Commercials. Sweet, blessed advertisements. Does French kissing your television set cause electrocution?
Jake—clad in a nice navy tee—and Theresa use water to clean the surface of the painting. In this scene Theresa's voice sounds a lot like Darla's, sort of baby breathy. Jake doesn't mind, though, and Theresa tells him, "Don't be afraid to really push." Diane eavesdropping (not "interfacing") at Hello, Joshua, Junior: "Probably not the first time she's said that." Ooooh, nice shot of Christopher Gorham's arms. Blah blah parents blah blah dead mom blah blah "My dad's an arms dealer." What? Kyle has the same reaction but ruins it by saying "I think he might have stumbled on to something." If by "stumbled" you mean "been handed the information on a silver platter without doing any actual work" then yes, Our Boy Jake stumbled. Theresa doesn't tell many people about her dad's occupation, but Jake isn't most people. Oh, please. She is laying this crap on with a trowel. Growing up was interesting, she continues, what with stories about Father's illegal activities covered in the newspapers, but he never missed a birthday party or school play. Theresa tells Jake that she talks with her dad on the phone and can't keep up with him; he's always in a different time zone. There are benefits, however. Theresa shows off the shoes—black, strappy heels with a clover/flower pattern above the toes—that her father bought for her in Caracas. Kyle and Beckett jump to circulate photographs of Carano in Venezuela. Theresa say the putty used in the restoration needs to dry overnight, so Jake will have to come back tomorrow night. Oh.
NSA wall seal, NSA floor seal. Drink! Drink! Oh, that footage is recycled as well. Just so you know. There are three NSA seals: the wall one, the floor one, and the cheesy green bitmapped computer one. Kill me now. Jake, Beckett, and Kyle walk and talk. More exposition. A man fitting Carano's description left Caracas three days ago. The intel was confirmed by Venezuelan forces and by Miraflores, the presidential palace. Jake is impressed the agency has sources at the palace. Beckett smiles ands says, "Yes. The president." I enjoy her subtle moments like this one. Using the alias Eduardo Garcia, the man identified as Carano took a plane to Costa Rica. Beckett thinks the buyers, the terrorist group Soledad, will meet somewhere between El Salvador and Costa Rica. Kyle "nice works" Jake, and Jake says he'll cancel his date with Theresa now that other trained agents are on the case. Beckett tells him not. Theresa may have said that she talks to her dad on the phone, but traces of her land line and cell phone have led to nothing. They want Jake to find out how Theresa is communication with her father.
Jefferson Memorial. Harbour Bay apartment. Theresa opens the door and Jake's jaw drops to the ground. She's wearing a skintight brown dress that is held up by a combination necklace/choker. It's nice. Jake asks, "Are you allowed to paint in that dress?" Theresa tells Jake that they're not painting tonight. The putty has to dry another day. Dry... a-nother day. Isn't that a Bond theme song? Theresa has set a table, complete with candles and wine, and she pours a glass for Jake and simpers, "I hope you're not upset I tricked you." Oh, the underlying irony and double meanings. Stop it! Jake no-no-nos and adds, "I'm... delighted." Again, in the hands of a lesser actor, that simple phrase would be cheesy or stupid rather than heartfelt. Christopher Gorham still does a stellar job, even with weak material. Theresa goes to the kitchen to check her chipotle sauce, and Jake notices her conveniently placed personal digital assistant next to a lamp. He starts to zihzihzihzihzuh, but Theresa interrupts him with the anvilicious "I expect you to be honest." Of course she talking about the dipping sauce, not Jake's undercover spy work. Oh the parallels. After Jake declares it "perfect," Theresa decides this would be a perfect time to dance. The soundtrack switches from crap rock to a mariachi band. Christopher Gorham tries hard to dance awkwardly, but his ballroom training is evident. He even manages to twirl Theresa smoothly through two turns with nary a bobble. Much better than Kyle and Bad Wig's attempts last week. Theresa tells him he's a natural. As they move into a slow dance, Jake zihzihzihzihzuh-zooms through Theresa's PDA to her Phone Book, Incoming Calls, and "papa's" digits. Theresa notices Jake concentrating and says he's cute when he does that be cause he scrunches up his forehead. "I scrunch?" Jake marvels. Hee. They kiss. The camera pans down to show Jake's hands on her waist. We're outside the Harbour Bay apartment, and then we see...
. . . the Washington Monument. Again! Another phallic jump cut, fellas. NSA computer seal. You know. Hello, Joshua Junior. Carano has been traced to Santa Ana, San Salvador. Theresa has received two calls in the past nine hours. Jake, typing at a laptop, uplinks the information to satellite and puts it up on the "big board." Shouldn't he just be able to zihzihzihzihzuh it all? Maybe they ran out of sound effects money. Their target is at the El Cortez Hotel, top floor, northeast corner. Beckett tells Jake they will put agents there to cover Carano. Jake is having second thoughts.
Same satellite footage from episode 2 and earlier this episode. Really. Sigh. Speeding it up won't make it any less recycled, guys. the tagline informs us that it's "18 hours later. San Salvador, Central America." Nondescript docks and boats. Teams Uptown One and Downtown Two (ugh! what stupid code names) are in position. Jake wonders if this is the hand-off, Beckett tells him they're about to find out. An on-scene agent positively identifies Carano, who has a few henchmen with him. The thermal sensors on the big board indicate that the buyers, Soledad, are not in the area. Agent Downtown suggests that they move in to get Carano and the semtex—two out of three—but Beckett tells them to wait. Suddenly, the henchmen start transferring boxes of... something, and Agent Downtown intones that the suspects "are on the move." Beckett tells "Peter" (Agent Downtown) to "draw in the net." Two cars, each with two agents, screech up to the docks. The Colombians scatter. Gunfire ensues. Throughout the entire firefight, Beckett keeps asking "Peter" what's happening. Gee, I'd think the echo of automatic weapons might provide a clue there, chief. Also, maybe your fellas are a bit busy to give you an update every five seconds. Just a thought.
Agent WhoTheHell brings her lines tally to four as she notices the number of unmoving thermal images on the big board. "Looks like a lot of bodies." I tried to count them, but I don't really care. They're dead anyway, right? Beckett continues nagging like a fishwife until Agent Downtown Peter checks in to say that they've sustained two injuries, both minor. And the Colombians? Beckett demands. Three dead, one wounded. One of the dead is Carano. Jake doesn't react gleefully to this news.
After commercials Jake is freaking out. Diane tries to calm him by saying Carano's death was not his fault and Jake was just doing his job. Jake yells, "She trusted me, and now her dad's dead." Of course his cell phone rings, and of course it's Theresa. Close-up on paintbrushes. Jake is telling Theresa he's sorry, but we can't see past the bristles. Eventually we see Theresa, who is wearing a white long sleeved shirt with a wide neck (the better to see the thin straps of her camisole), is comforted by Jake. Theresa says her father was shot eleven times, and wonders what kind of people do that. Jake can't answer, so he puts his arms around her.
Beckett's office. She calls Jake on the fact that Jake went to see Theresa without authorization. Jake tells Beckett that Theresa is a wreck. The funeral is Friday; Carano will be buried next to his wife in the States. Beckett says she's sorry a woman's father is dead but is not upset that a dangerous arms dealer is gone, and Jake "shouldn't be either." Ouch. Beckett tells him she expects his final report to close the case.
Hello, Joshua Junior. Jake is typing away when Agent WhoTheHell drops several files on the table next to him. The paperwork is "everything on Carano for the past six years. Guess you're going to be here for a while," she says, not unsympathetically. We hear Theresa's voiceovering lines we heard earlier as Jake writes his report. Blah blah Theresa Carano blah blah always nervous around woman blah blah my daddy is an arms dealer. Jake stops typing and opens the first folder. Back to Theresa in the echo chamber, I mean in a flashback voiceover. "He was shot eleven times. What kind of people do that?" The government? Close up of Jake's eyes staring at the computer screen.
D.C. morning. Beckett's office. She reads his report, complete with pictures of Carano and Theresa, and Jake sits in a chair. He looks wiped. "is this everything?" Beckett asks. Jake replies in the affirmative and asks permission to see Theresa again. Permission granted.
Harbour Bay apartment. Theresa is wearing a black shirt. Hmmmm. She invites Jake in and presents him with the finished painting. Jake tells her she didn't have to do that, but she wanted to. The restoration was "one good thing the past couple days. Well, two. You being the other." Jake confesses that he's "not good" and tells Theresa she deserves the truth. Jake spills everything: his real name, his real job, his assignment to watch her, the NSA agents killed her dad. Theresa asks him why he's telling her this. Jake cares about her, she deserves better, he couldn't live with himself. "Yeah, well, I'm glad you can live with yourself now," Theresa cuts. Jake apologizes, takes the painting, and leaves. What's this? B3 emerges from skulking in the corner of Theresa's apartment. Oh, the twist. Actually, her black shirt gave it away. That and the casual dropping that "my dad's an arms dealer." Theresa tells B3 that the NSA bought her story, and Soledad "can take delivery tomorrow." B3 admires his boss's ruthlessness and Theresa tells him it helps that men are the same everywhere: "They always underestimate the woman." Moral of this story? Beautiful women are international terrorists. Also? Trust is bad, and men are suckers for a pretty face.
Sunrise. Airport. A small plane lands. Theresa, wearing all black (she's evil—EVIL!), B3, and other goons walk to a hearse parked on the runway as the plane taxis. A plain wooden box is placed on a gurney. As some men push it toward the hearse, we see the word HEAD stamped on the container. Okay, I know that labeling such a nondescript box is probably necessary, but it just made me laugh and laugh. "Head." Hee hee! Ahem. Jake appears next to Theresa, telling her he couldn't let her go through this alone. He offers to go, but she grabs his hand.
She and Jake approach the box. Jake says he's sorry about her dad. Especially since he really died two and a half years ago. He exposits something about a private plane crash and forged bills of sale. Theresa covered it up. For the slower viewers of the audience, and to cut down on using any new stuff, we're treated to flashbacks of previous scenes. Theresa was playing him the whole time. Jake guesses that she asked B3 to find out who he was, and "That's when you really started to shine." The shoes, the PDA left in plain sight. Everything was designed to make the NSA think Carano was still alive. Blah blah family business blah blah she makes millions blah blah enemies chase her father's ghost. It was the "shot eleven times" that got her. Jake says her people watching the set-up got that information to her faster than the coroner got the same facts to the NSA. Well, we all know how slow the government works, right?
Theresa grudgingly admires Jake's deductive skills. But he's not finished. How would he get the semtex into the country and still keep $20 million? "I think I'd take it through Customs, right along with dear old dead, fake dad. Am I warm?" Heh. Theresa moves away from Jake and issues an order to her goons in Spanish. Jake says, "Kyle, a little help." Hey, it's a set-up! Go Jake! Kyle, looking fetching in the orange dayglow vest of an airport mechanic, barks the ever-popular "Hands in the air!" Agents disguised as various ground crew surround Theresa and her people. The goons obey, setting down their guns, but Theresa picks something out of her pocket and holds her hands above her head. Jake sees the object, realizes it ain't good, and yells, "Get down! Get down!" just as Theresa lobs the semtex (because that's what it is) toward a gasoline pumping station and shack. KABOOM!
Okay, it doesn't seem to be the best idea to store volatile explosives in your pants. What if someone grabs you in an unexpected bear hug? Hmmm? We'll never know, as the goons use the cover from the smoke and confusion created by the explosion to try and shoot their way out. Rat-a-tat-tat. Bang. Bang. Jake screams, "KYLE!" and rushes over to his boyfriend... er, mentor. Kyle says he's fine, just get Theresa. Jake zihzihzihzihzuh-looks through the smoke (What? I know. Just go with it) to observe Theresa speeding away in a convertible. Jack runs after her. He eventually gets close enough to zihzihzihzihzuh-jump into the back seat. He grabs the wheel and forces the car to stop. Theresa immediately backfists him in the face. Heh. And ow! "I make it a rule to never... " Jake gasps before Theresa clocks him again. This time, Jake punches her back, rendering her unconscious. "... do that," he sighs.
NSA computer seal. Is this joke old to everyone else? I'll stop using it if y'all want. Maybe we need a poll? Anyway, we're in the NSA parking garage. Jake carries the painting he and Theresa restored. Diane catches up with him and asks him why he's taking the painting home? Jake glooms that it's a reminder that he can't trust people anymore. He can't even trust himself. Diane tries to tell him that during mission he can't trust anyone, sure, that's part of the job. But "you gotta find moments with people that you do trust, you know, and people with whom you can be honest, and then it keeps you balanced." With whom! Is this the same show that misspelled Philippines? Jake thinks a bit and then asks Diane where she's from. Maine, as it turns out. And Jake grew up in Akron, Ohio. Gotta love those Midwestern boys.
Jake's apartment. The angle moves from the restored painting to the floor, following a telephone cord to Jake's desk. "Hello, Sarah. It's Jake," he says. He continues to talk, confessing that "I've always liked you, Sarah, and not just as a friend." Pan up to reveal Jake reading aloud a longhand letter he's written. The misdirection was completely ineffective and stupid, but I think it's sweet that Jake is trying to figure out his feelings. Even if they are for Sarah and not for someone more deserving. Or interesting.
I made it! I survived. And if you read this far, I sincerely thank you. And pity you. I guess I should count my blessings, yeah? No Sarah and her fearsome chompers, and no Dave Matthews Band.
© deeablo 2003
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