Episode Summary

While tailing Man in Black Morris Fletcher, the boys stumble upon what may be a link to Romeo 61, the grand daddy of all conspiracies that happens to lead right back to Yves.

Episode Details


Guest Cast


First Woman: Thank you.

Morris Fletcher: You're very welcome. Cheers.

First Woman: So, what do you do for a living?

Morris Fletcher: I work for the Government. I'm based out at Nevada, actually I'm just here in town on business. My job is kind of cloak and dagger, you might say, it involves National Security.

First Woman: Really. Well, I can keep a secret.

Morris Fletcher: Now that's what I love to hear. [He slips his wedding ring into his pocket] How shall I put this? You ever see the movie Men In Black?

First Woman: Mmm hmm.

Morris Fletcher: Well guess who the Tommy Lee Jones character was based on? Loosely.

First Woman: Wow.

Morris Fletcher: Yeah. But it isn't all, you know... [He whistles] I can get lonely too. What say, I pay up and we find a place that's not so loud? [He pulls his wallet out and his wedding ring drops onto the bar]

First Woman: Excuse me. [She leaves]

[Caught in the beam of a bright light while walking to his car, Morris Fletcher awakens to find himself in an alien abductee scenario]

Morris Fletcher: Hello. hello. Can we talk about this? [An Alien with an obvious zipper up its back appears] All right, already. I'm MIB. Majestic 12. We play for the same team. [A nose probe is produced] Oh not the nose thing, I hate the nose thing. Just tell me what you want.

Alien: You have information.

Morris Fletcher: Hell, yeah. Lots of it. What do you want to know?

Alien: What is Maharon? [The nose probe is applied again]

Morris Fletcher: Okay, okay, okay, okay. Maharon, that's our code name for technology we borrowed from you, and I want to stress the word borrowed, because we really do play for the same team. It's your photon aggregate technology, your weapons system. We took it off the Roswell ship. It took us 50 years, but we finally figured out it works. But hey, you know what, I'm not a hardware guy.

Alien: Tell us everything. [The nose probe is applied again]

[Frohike is removing his alien costume in the back of the Lone Gunmobile]

Jimmy: Yeehaa! We rock! We are the champions!

Byers: What a coup! What a scoop!

Frohike: An honest-to-god man in black. It's unheard of.

Langly: That Morris Fletcher was totally fooled. It's amazing how much fun you can have with a couple of CCs of Pentothal and a Halloween mask.

Jimmy: We never even had to use this. [He produces a large vibrating anal probe]

Byers: Oh oh, guys. [He's blinded by bright lights and brakes in front of a military blockade]

[The Lone Gunmen are forced to their knees at gunpoint, as Morris Fletcher arrives]

Morris Fletcher: Hello again. Remember me?

Lead Soldier: What should we do with the prisoners?

Morris Fletcher: Hmm. What do you suggest, guys?

Frohike: Let us go.

Morris Fletcher: Yeah, yeah, I guess I could do that. No. [to Lead Soldier] Shoot 'em all the head.

Langly: Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

Byers: You can't do that!

Lead Soldier: Ready, aim...

Morris Fletcher: Oh, I almost forgot. How did you four monkeys know where to find me?

Jimmy: Why should we tell you if you're just going to kill us?

Morris Fletcher: Fine, be that way.

Lead Soldier: Ready, aim...

Langly: Okay, okay. We got an email.

Frohike: It told us your name, who you were, what hotel you were staying at.

Morris Fletcher: And who sent the email?

Byers: We can't be sure. It was anonymous.

Langly: We backtraced it and we got a domain name off some military server; Romeo 61. [Everybody pulls out fast]

Frohike: What the hell did we say?

Kimmy: You crack babies woke me up from one killer dream and I ain't talking about the dry kind. Jessica Alba.

Byers: We'll make it up to you, Kimmy. Somehow. Just find us Romeo 61.

Langly: If you even can.

Kimmy: Oh, ha ha. I tell you what, Langly, I was actually going to make this seem hard so as you wouldn't break down crying in front of your sorority sisters, but it looks like Grasshopper is need of a little lesson in humility. [A Department of Defence site appears on screen] Try and snatch that pebble. All right, what service branch is it under? Army, Navy, Cub Scouts, what?

Byers: Try the Air Force. Area 51.

Kimmy: Hey, Lurch. How's about you trot out and get me a Java Grande?

Jimmy: How's about I trot over and smack you across the head?

Kimmy: Okay, big guy has a temper. Nada on the Air Force, Byers. Anyway, I need a department, otherwise we're talking needle in a five sided haystack.

Langly: The Pentagon's email server. Maybe if you can crack the server, you can trace the root name back to the department it came from.

Kimmy: I have taught you much, Grasshopper. Soon it will be your time to wander the earth. Romeo 61, but there's no department.

Byers: Open the file.

Department of Defence
Secure Document Server
05/14/01: Los Angeles, CA: Active Pending
05/04/01: Washington DC: Successful
07/27/96: Atlanta, GA: Successful
07/17/96: New York: Successful
12/21/95: London: Successful
04/19/93: Waco, TX: Successful
02/26/93: New York, NY: Successful
06/05/89: Beijing: Successful
03/24/89: Alaska: Successful
12/21/88: Lockerbie, Scotland: Successful
01/28/86: Cape Canaveral: Successful
06/23/85: Toronto: Successful
09/23/83: Lebanon: Successful
09/15/82: Monaco: Successful
12/09/80: New York, NY: Successful
03/28/79: Harrisburg: Successful
12/20/78: Beijing: Successful
11/21/78: Jonestown: Successful
12/26/77: Switzerland: Successful
10/12/72: Vancouver, Canada: Successful
09/06/72: Munich: Successful
05/05/70: Ohio: Successful
11/21/68: Ottawa, Canada: Successful
10/27/68: Wales: Successful
02/10/67: Richmond, VA: Successful
11/10/65: New York: Successful
11/22/63: Dallas: Successful
07/28/52: Buenos Aires: Successful

Frohike: What is all this?

Jimmy: Atlanta, 7/27/96. That was the Summer of the Olympics.

Byers: Atlanta, 7/27/96. The date of the Centennial Olympic Park bombing. Alaska, 3/24/89, the wreck of the Exxon Valdez in Prince William Sound. Harrisburg, 3/28/79 Three Mile Island. All indicated as operations, all successful. Guys.

Frohike: This can't be what it looks like.

Byers: Lockerbie, Scotland in 88. The Marine Barracks bombing in Lebanon in 83. Romeo 61, whatever it is, is it conceivable one group of terrorists is responsible for all these acts?

Langly: But they all can't be terrorist attacks, I mean, Three Mile Island, Exxon Valdez weren't. Oh man.

Jimmy: But guys, what kind of a terrorist works out of the Pentagon?

Byers: Government sanctioned ones.

Frohike: Like Kimmy says, one that doesn't appear in the chain of command.

Kimmy: Yo, I never said anything. Okay? 'Cause I was not here.

Langly: Kimmy.

Kimmy: Look, I never met any of you guys. Okay?

Byers: You have to help us uncover this.

Langly: Where's your sense of patriotism?

Kimmy: It gets overruled. [He wipes down the keyboard] By my sense of self-preservation. And yours should too. Seriously. Arrivederci baby. [He leaves]

Frohike: These operations go back decades. This outfit must have been around since... Oh my god. Dallas, November 22nd 1963.

Byers: JFK. The assassination.

Langly: It can't be. Can it?

Frohike: Where do we start?

Jimmy: Maybe we shouldn't. Maybe Kimmy's right, if all that's true, you got to know the people behind it aren't going to let us get away with writing a story about it.

Langly: JFK. You understand? This is the holy grail, this is why we called the paper The Lone Gunman, not because of hunting and fishing. I mean, you understand that, don't you?

Jimmy: Yeah. I understand that, Langly.

Frohike: Where do we start? This is just a list, there is no proof here.

Byers: Who else knows about Romeo 61?

Morris Fletcher: Yeah, it can get lonely out there in that desert at night. Looking up at all those stars, it makes me think; I'm not going to be here forever, I'd better cease the moment. Carpe diem.

Second Woman: I love the way French sounds.

Morris Fletcher: Yeah. French, Greek, that whole region. What say, I pay up and we find some place not so loud.

Second Woman: Wow. This is so nice.

Morris Fletcher: Well, it's even nicer with champagne. Oh, we're missing glasses.

[Frohike exits the bedroom in a robe, he is holding three glasses]

Frohike: Hello, lover. Oh my, what a tasty young morsel you've brought me.

Second Woman: Whoa, guys. This is so not my scene. [She runs out the door]

Frohike: Oh.

Morris Fletcher: Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. You son of a... [The rest of the Lone Gunmen appear] Oh, you've seen the last of Mr Nice Guy. I really am going to have you shot in the head.

Byers: We don't think so. We're betting that you need us.

Morris Fletcher: Oh, and why's that?

Frohike: Romeo 61.

Byers: You're scared of it, aren't you? It, them, whatever pronoun best applies.

Langly: You know they're stone killers. For some reason they put us on your trail.

Frohike: We want to know why. We're sure you do too.

Byers: Mr Fletcher, I believe we can be helpful. We're journalists.

Morris Fletcher: I know who you are. You put out The Lone Gunman. It's absolutely hilarious. Guys, it's why I let you live. It would have been like killing the staff of Mad Magazine.

Langly: We tell the stories others refuse to tell.

Morris Fletcher: Yeah, that's one way to put it.

Byers: Sorry to waste your time.

Morris Fletcher: All right, all right.

Jimmy: Thanks for coming, Yves.

Yves: Jimmy, I'm in a rush.

Jimmy: I'm sorry to bother you, but it's the guys. You know how you're always joking about them being in over their heads?

Yves: I don't mean it as a joke.

Jimmy: Well, this one time, I agree with you. They're looking into this secret group of government assassins, terrorists, supposedly they had something to do with JFK. Not the movie, the actual guy. Right now they're talking to this secret government agent, you know, men in black. Again, not the movie, but —

Yves: — An actually guy.

Jimmy: I'm worried what might happen.

Yves: I was afraid of this, Jimmy, you are the smartest of the four. Don't let them go through with it, get them off the story.

Jimmy: I tried, they won't listen to me. That's why I need your help.

Yves: I'm sorry, Jimmy. I can't.

Morris Fletcher: Romeo 61. It's sort of a bogeyman story for guys in my line of work. Nobody knows who they are or what their mission is. They kill, torture, steal, do god knows what. Maybe they're just about causing chaos, or turning a profit, either way they are a seriously scary bunch. But, I've got bigger problems.

Byers: Such as?

Morris Fletcher: Well, there's this big meeting on Friday and I'm supposed to present this information. Never mind what or to whom, it's not important.

Frohike: The Maharon Project.

Morris Fletcher: Anyway, it got stolen, and when I show up without it I'm dead. Not fired — dead. I can't go to the people I work with and there's no way I can find this woman.

Byers: What woman?

Morris Fletcher: The one who ripped me off. A real two knuckler. Just [He puts two knuckles between his teeth] Exotic, tall, brunette, talked like Elizabeth Hurley.

Langly: What was her name?

Morris Fletcher: It doesn't matter. It was a fake, I had it checked out. Darva Loye Welshe. What?

Byers: Go on, tell us what happened.

Morris Fletcher: Two nights ago, I'm sitting in the bar downstairs, just minding my own business. And then she showed up. My god. I mean, this gorgeous, gorgeous woman and here she comes sitting down right next to me. One thing led to another. You know, I laid on the old charm. And the next thing I knew. I should have seen it coming, the whole thing was a setup.

Langly: Darva Loye Welshe. You spell it with a couple of extra E's, you get Lee Harvey Oswald or Yves Adele Harlow.

Morris Fletcher: Wait, you know this woman?

Frohike: We've had dealings with her.

Byers: But what does this have to do with Romeo 61?

Morris Fletcher: Boys, don't you get it? She rips me off, then she emails you. Romeo 61, she's a member.

Langly: I mean, what do we really know about Yves? Next to nothing.

Morris Fletcher: Any luck?

Byers: Not only is she not answering her cell phone, but apparently she just cancelled the account.

Morris Fletcher: I thought you guys were hackers. Trace her billing address.

Langly: We tried that the day she gave us the number. Somehow she figured a way to bill it to the offices of Martha Stewart Living.

Morris Fletcher: Oh she's good, she's very good.

Jimmy: What's he doing here?

Frohike: Hey, relax, man.

Jimmy: Guys, please, get off of this story. If you won't listen to me, listen to Yves.

Morris Fletcher: What about Yves?

Jimmy: She said, stay away from it.

Langly: You told her about it? Einstein here, told her about it. Of course she's going to stay away if she's part of Romeo 61.

Jimmy: Part of Romeo 61? Who in the hell told you that?

Byers: Jimmy, Yves is the only connection we have between data stolen from Mr Fletcher and the email we received informing us of it.

Jimmy: So that makes her some kind of government killer? Have you even seen her kill anybody?

Langly: The only thing I've ever seen her do is protect her own interests. All those secrets she keeps, why?

Jimmy: She's a very private person.

Langly: You don't even know her real name. And what's with that anagram? Lee Harvey Oswald. Could someone please explain what that's supposed to signify?

Jimmy: You're wrong about her, Langly.

[Yves leaves a message using Frohike's voice]

Mulder: [answering machine] You can leave me a message after the beep.

Frohike: Hey, man. Me and the boys have come across something you'll find very tasty. I can't tell you over the phone, but call me so we can meet some place out of the way of prying eyes, if you catch my drift. You can reach me at 240 555 0106. Later.

Jimmy: You're not going to find her if she doesn't want to be found.

Morris Fletcher: The valet remembered her from the night she ripped me off.

Frohike: They pulled her silver BMW out of the lot at 10:26. She headed north on Wisconsin. [They tap an ATM security camera] Here is comes.

Langly: Big left onto O Street. [Checking another camera] A right on 35th. [Checking another camera leads them to Reservoir Road] Got her. Bishop Place.

Frohike: Nobody's home. [He starts breaking the electronic lock]

Jimmy: Oh, come on, don't do that.

Langly: We didn't spend four hours tracked her here for nothing.

Morris Fletcher: That's right, Poindexter. I'm going to get my computer disk back.

Frohike: There we go. [He opens the door]

Langly: Hold up. Booby traps. [Holding the door ajar he spots a wire] Way ahead of you, Spiderlady. [He cuts the wire, opens the door and gets hit in the face with bright blue security dye]

Frohike: Hey, I'm working here.

Jimmy: How would you like it if I went through your underwear?

Byers: Did the dye come off?

Langly: Don't even... [He's still very blue]

Jimmy: Langly! Guys, what are we doing here?

Byers: Getting to the truth, Jimmy. Like I said before.

Jimmy: The truth about what? This whole thing has gone from JFK to Romeo 61 and secret assassins, to us rummaging through a woman's underwear.

Morris Fletcher: Well, this guy's a broken record. What do you keep him around for? You got a lot of hard to open jars?

Jimmy: We're looking for the truth and we're doing it with a man that LIES FOR A LIVING.

Morris Fletcher: Oh.

Jimmy: I'm really not feeling good about this.

Langly: Then leave, why don't you? Just shut the hell up and leave.

Byers: Langly.

Frohike: Come on, buddy. The kid doesn't know any better.

Jimmy: I do know one thing, you three aren't as smart as I thought. [He leaves]

Byers: Jimmy. Come on.

Morris Fletcher: Guys, can we get back to work here, see if we can find my stolen disk? Huh, please.

Langly: Uh huh. [He finds a document taped under a drawer]

Morris Fletcher: What is it?

Langly: Concerned Financial.

Byers: It's an opening receipts. No account owner's name, just a number.

Frohike: Yesterday's date. Yves just opened up a Swiss bank account. Check out the opening deposit.

Morris Fletcher: 10.13 million from Fënix Atlantic Corporation. Who the hell is that?

Langly: It may be another name for Romeo 61.

Byers: Either way, I'm guessing these are the people who have your disk.

Clerk: May I help you?

Yves: Yes. I'm researching Etruscan pottery. I understand you have a new acquisition.

Clerk: We do. It's in the back. [He takes her to a back room] This is a pleasant surprise. You are here to sell, aren't you? Word is out about your new acquisition.

Yves: Word does seem to travel.

Clerk: I must say, I'm rather cross at you. I feel left out of a large number of opportunities — the Octium VI chip, the water powered car — none of these items ever made it to market. Strange.

Yves: Who have you told about me? Who have you told?

Clerk: There's a dozen potential witnesses right outside the door. You'd be seen.

Yves: I don't care. Do they know where I am?

[Jimmy opens Langly's incoming email]

Jimmy: [reading] Boys. Couldn't reach you at your phone number just now. Can't make nine. How about 10 o'clock at the parking deck — 14th and K? What? Who's this from? [Fox2001] Fox. What fox do I know? Oh man, Yves.

Frohike: This is where Romeo 61 hangs. They've got one ugly club house.

Langly: We've got floor plans, we've got security systems. Man, oh man, this is heavy duty stuff.

Frohike: What is that?

Langly: It's a vault. Data storage. In the pit of the building, sixteen floors down. Massive.

Frohike: What the hell kind of data do they store down there anyway?

Morris Fletcher: Hey, don't look at me, this is your town.

Langly: Guys, I think we're sitting on the mother lode here.

Byers: Romeo 61, JFK, who knows, maybe every answer we've dreamed of recovering.

Morris Fletcher: You know, maybe the boys wouldn't treat you like such a tramp if you'd wear like makeup.

Langly: That just gets funnier and funnier. Keep it up.

Morris Fletcher: Aye, Braveheart, and you will lead us to victory over the English dogs.

Langly: And you can blow my bagpipe, pal.

Byers: Mr Fletcher, we're supposed to be working together.

Morris Fletcher: I know, I know, but this is pointless. I'm a dead man. I should be using these last hours constructively — drinking at the bar and juggling blonde triplets. No offence, fellows, but there's no way you're getting in there.

Frohike: How about it?

Langly: It's tricky. They've got a wicked access system based on facial recognition. If your face doesn't match one in their database, they lock you in.

Byers: Can you crack the database, add our photos to it?

Langly: Negatory. It's built as a ROM file. It'd be like changing Moses' stone tablets.

Morris Fletcher: That's what I'm saying. And even then, how would blue boy pass with his complexion?

Frohike: He's right. With that shade of blue, the scanner would probably read your face as invisible. Like the chromakey they use behind the TV weather map.

Byers: Chromakey. That's that answer.

[Yves corners the man who has been following her and shoots out his front tyre]

Sharply Dressed Man: I'm not armed.

Yves: You should be.

Sharply Dressed Man: I have a message for you. People that you care about may die tonight if.

Yves: There's no one I care about.

Sharply Dressed Man: It's up to you. [He hands her a copy of The Lone Gunman] If you come with me now, they'll be safe. Perhaps we could take your car. [She shoots out his rear tyre and leaves]

Byers: There we are, that should do it. Number fifteen. [He finishes applying little pink dots to Langly's blue face]

Morris Fletcher: Now what exactly does this do? Aside from making sure he never gets laid again.

Langly: Ah, bite me, Fletcher.

Morris Fletcher: Maybe. You taste like blueberrys?

Byers: Guys. Facial recognition works by scanning the shape of each face and measuring a sample of its prominent features.

Langly: Fifteen sampling points with this system.

Byers: So, if Langly's face is chromakey blue, and hence invisible to the scanner, all the machine picks up are these fifteen pink dots, which correspond to the exact sampling points of one Walter Belofsky. Whom we pulled off the Fënix Atlantic database.

Langly: And presto, I'm in like Flynn.

Morris Fletcher: You guys never went to your high school prom, did you?

Frohike: The gate and the outer door are standard keypad entry. Plain vanilla stuff. Coming, Skizics? [He offers to paint Morris Fletcher blue]

Morris Fletcher: Oh no, thanks. I think I'll sit this one out.

Byers: Suit yourself. [Frohike paints Byers instead]

Jimmy: Yves. Yves. Yves. [He's wandering around the car park when he bumps into Mulder]

Mulder: Hey.

Jimmy: Hey.

Mulder: You wouldn't happen to know a guy named Frohike, would you?

Jimmy: Frohike. Yeah, I live with him. I mean, I used to.

Mulder: Was kind of that a kind of May to December thing?

Jimmy: What about Frohike?

Mulder: I'm supposed to meet him here.

Jimmy: Yeah. You wouldn't happen to know a woman named Yves, would you?

Mulder: No. You're supposed to meet her here too?

Jimmy: What are the chances of that? Unless maybe you're talking about some other Frohike.

Mulder: The Frohike I know, I'm hoping he's the only one. My name's Mulder, by the way.

Jimmy: Jimmy. Mulder... You're that FBI agent the guys are always solving the crimes for. You're the one that says he was abducted by aliens.

Mulder: I was abducted.

Jimmy: Wow! Did they probe you? Did they use the nose thing on you? Or the big one?

Mulder: Jimmy, let's put our heads together and see if we can't figure this thing out.

Sharply Dressed Man: [answering mobile] Hello.

Morris Fletcher: How's it going?

Sharply Dressed Man: As expected. Your end?

Morris Fletcher: Hold on a second. [to the Lone Gunmen] right on, guys. Let your freak flag fly. [to Sharply Dressed Man] Three blue mice headed for the cheese.

Kimmy: This is kidnapping.

Jimmy: Yeah, I know. I'm real sorry.

Kimmy: I thought I'd made myself abundantly clear. I plan to keep on breathing and I don't care how big a doo pile your little mongoloid girl scout troop has burrowed itself into, you've got no right to involve me in this.

Jimmy: It's true, I don't.

Kimmy: Exactly. So, bye bye. [Jimmy grabs him by the ear] Ow. Hurting. Hurting. Hurting. Hurting.

Jimmy: I have no right, but that doesn't mean you're not going to help me. Understand?

Kimmy: All right. Lay it out for me already.

Jimmy: I ran into this FBI agent, he thought he was meeting Frohike, who was going to give him secret information. Only frohike never showed up. This agent, he gave me a phone number for a Frohike that I'd never seen before. It's disconnected. I need you to run it down for me.

Kimmy: Using me to trace phone numbers. It's like watching Michael Jordan play chequers. Martha Stewart Living that's who it bills to.

Jimmy: It's Yves!

Kimmy: Yves Harlow?

Jimmy: She was going to meet with Mulder. She was going to give him the disk she took from Morris Fletcher. [Yves arrives]

Yves: You are the smartest of the four. [She hands the disk to Jimmy] See that it gets to Agent Mulder. Move.

Kimmy: Whatever.

Yves: I assume neither of you knows the whereabouts of Byers, Langly or Frohike.

Jimmy: What's on this? The Maharon Project? An alien weapon?

Yves: Nothing so exotic. It's a detailed file of alien abductees, or rather, innocent people who've been brainwashed by the likes of Morris Fletcher. [Kimmy tries to leave but Jimmy puts him in a head lock] It's all there — their modus operandi, their disinformation. I reckon that man, Agent Mulder, will find it useful.

Jimmy: What about Romeo 61?

Yves: What about Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny? Classic disinformation, Jimmy. Bait. Shiny lures to dangle in front of your three friends. Something they couldn't resist.

[Byers is going through the facial recognition system, he is matched to John Shiban]

Yves: Damn it!

Kimmy: Are you running a plate trace?

Yves: Late model Jaguar sedan. I need the owner's name, it's not coming up.

Kimmy: Run the VIN number. Let me try something.

Jimmy: Morris is using the guys as bait to get to you? Why? What does he want with you?

Yves: He simply wants his disk back. I imagine that why he got involved. He's working for someone else, however, someone who's been looking for me for quite some time now.

Jimmy: Who?

Yves: All you need to know is that I won't turn myself over to him. Which means if we can't track down Byers, Frohike and Langly ourselves...

Jimmy: They'll kill them.

[Frohike is going through the facial recognition system, he is matched to Vince Gilligan. And Langly is matched to Frank Spotnitz]

Kimmy: Sorry. A whole lot of nothing.

Jimmy: Think. Think. Last time I saw the guys, they were at your hotel room. Maybe there's some clue there.

Yves: What do you mean, my hotel room?

Jimmy: We tracked you to your room at the Bishop Place.

Yves: I don't have a room at the Bishop Place. Crack the in-house server.

Kimmy: Censured.

Yves: What's the room number?

Jimmy: I think it was the Presidential Suite.

Yves: Eyes forward. Check the billing file. Who rented the room?

Kimmy: There you go.

Yves: Fënix Atlantic.

Byers: Gentlemen, this is it. I suspect that every answer to every question we've every asked... lies behind this door.

Frohike: And all we've got to do is open it.

Jimmy: Nobody's here. We'd they go? [The Lone Gunmobile is empty]

Yves: Come on. They're probably inside, from the looks of things. This isn't too promising.

Jimmy: Okay. So, I've got a plan.

Yves: You do?

Jimmy: You and Kimmy figure out how to get the doors open and I'll go in by myself. Whoever's after you, is after you, not me.

Yves: It's a smart plan, Jimmy. [She kisses him on the check, beckons Kimmy over and shoots Jimmy with a knockout gun]

Kimmy: What? What the hell?

Yves: Take him home. Stay there.

Kimmy: You are like dangerous, lady.

Yves: Let's hope so.

Frohike: Come on. Come on.

Byers: I don't understand, Langly. Your clearly schematics showed a different vault door.

Frohike: One that had a control panel. One we actually had a chance of breaking in to.

Langly: It doesn't make any damn sense. It's like these stupid schematics are like...

Frohike: Fake. [The lift is descending] Oh crap.

Morris Fletcher: Hi, guys. Why so blue? Sorry. [He's followed by the Sharply Dressed Man and a group of armed soldiers with Yves in custody]