Episode Summary

While searching for the killer of a notorious hacker, the astute three find a not-so-astute fourth.

Episode Details


Guest Cast


Frohike: That was fast. [He lets Byers in] Hey, where are the papers?

Byers: Sitting on some loading dock, somewhere. The printers would not give them to us on credit.

Frohike: Whoa, uh-uh, Byers. We got to get that Japanese whaling story out to the public.

Byers: What do you want me to say? We spent our last $1200 getting the story, we didn't save any money for publishing it.

Langly: I figured that would happen.

Byers: Oh, I am not in the mood for I told you so's, Langly.

Langly: Far from it. You guys are interested, I've figured out the answer to all our money problems.

Frohike: Oh yeah, what's that?

Langly: We need to sell more papers.

Byers: Easier said than done.

Langly: Not when you got Lone Gunwoman of the week. [He holds up a front page featuring a bikini clad blonde holding a pistol]

Byers: Oh, good lord. We can't use that. She's... she's...

Frohike: She's amazing. [Byers looks at him] And doesn't belong on the cover of any legitimate publication.

Langly: We're supposed to be fighting for truth, justice and the American way here.

Frohike: Well what the hell is this? [Indicating the ice pack he's holding against his neck] This isn't fighting? I put my butt on the line week in and week out, while you and Byers just hide behind the scenes.

Langly: Yeah, your butt, my brains. I should be a dotcom gazillionaire, instead of gracing you two with my hacking brilliance.

Byers: Bickering won't solve anything.

Frohike: Byers, don't get holier than thou.

Langly: Yeah, Mr Big Picture, Mr Mission. It's easy to talk about the stories we need to write. Fighting whaling, or illegal government surveillance, or who killed JFK... but you have to ask yourself, how far will you go to print them.

Byers: Not that far. [He indicates Lone Gunwoman when the door buzzes, he goes to answer it]

Frohike: Aargh. [His neck hurts as he turns. Langly shows him the cover page again] Sorry, buddy.

Byers: Ah, guys? [Yves is at the door]

Yves: Well, aren't you going to invite me in?

Frohike: Depends. You here to kill us?

Yves: Melvin, would you really be caught dead in that robe? I must admit, the thought of revenge did cross my mind. You cost me a tidy profit when you stole my Octium IV chip.

Langly: Our Octium IV chip.

Byers: We've returned it to its rightful owner, now that we've published our expose on it.

Yves: How wonderful of you. [She spots the Lone Gunwoman] Ah, conspiracy theories and masturbation. I suspected there was a connection.

Frohike: What do you want, Yves?

Yves: Right, down to business then. This morning a body was found in a Long Island dumpster, a young man called Alex Goldsmith, better known as Double Bogie.

Langly: DB. The golf man.

Frohike: Hacker extraordinaire.

Yves: You knew him?

Byers: By reputation. After the '97 Masters Tournament he hijacked the Jumbotron screen in Times Square. Made it flash Tiger is God for 26 minutes.

Frohike: Classic hack. Who smoked him?

Yves: The police seem to think it was a drug deal gone bad, but that doesn't take into account the three match grade Frandables slugs dug from his chest. Ammunition used by intelligence services around the globe, but certainly not gangbangers.

Byers: So, who wanted one of the world's best hackers dead?

Frohike: And why are you telling us?

Yves: There's a story to be uncovered her, wouldn't you say? Unless, of course, you're no longer journalists but budding pornographers.

Byers: This is the place, right?

Langly: Yeah, yeah. Now turn off the damn engine and stop wasting my gas.

Frohike: Here we go with the gas again.

Langly: It's a known carcinogen, you ingrate. I've got like a pint of it down in my stomach.

Frohike: You drew the short straw. How was I supposed to that know you don't know how to siphon.

Langly: And you, Mr Goody Two Shoes, Mr suck one gallon out of ten cars instead of ten gallons out of one car.

Byers: Ethically it seemed somewhat more defensible.

Langly: Oh, you'll be sorry when I'm dead.

Frohike: Oh yeah, prove it. Come on, get out. Out.

Mrs Goldsmith: Alex wasn't into drugs, that much I know for certain. He had so much going for him with the computers. He was brilliant. Had such a good heart. You'll put that in your article, that he didn't sell drugs? [The Lone Gunmen nod] I guess you can see that I couldn't give him much growing up. But I did teach him right from wrong.

Byers: How did Alex spend his time? Did he have a specific project he was working on?

Mrs Goldsmith: I didn't see much of him these last few weeks.

Byers: May we see Alex's computer?

[Langly drags Alex Goldsmith's prized autographed golf bag back from that bathroom where he was washed his own vomit out of it]

Byers: Did you clean it up?

Langly: Oh yeah.

Frohike: You washed off all the names.

Langly: Somebody got any Magic Markers?

Mrs Goldsmith: [calling from the kitchen] Fellows. How does lemonade sound?

Byers: Oh damn. [They all grab pens and start scribbling madly]

Frohike: It's Tiger not Tigger, you imbecile.

[Byers finds something in a pocket of the golf bag as Mrs Goldsmith returns with a tray of snacks]

Mrs Goldsmith: Here you are, boys.

Byers: Oh, that looks lovely, but...

Frohike: We've got to go.

Byers: Yes.

Langly: Yeah.

Frohike: Sorry.

Langly: Really, really sorry.

Byers: Guys, I'm not sure Alex was the saint his mother thinks he was.

Frohike: What's that?

Byers: It's a bank cheque dated four days ago, made out to Alex Goldsmith for one million dollars.

Frohike: That's them. Philanthropic Outreach Enterprises, POE.

Byers: POE Corporation. [Reading the drawer of the cheque] Are we to believe Alex Goldsmith was working for a charity.

Frohike: Some charity. Cutting million dollar cheques to hackers.

Langly: Sounds good to me. Well the State Corporation Commission has jack squat on them. They have the CEO registered as a one James Bond, for god's sakes. A million bucks, I'd settle for $400 in cash to get my damn stomach pumped.

Frohike: Langly, run a plate. New York State MODIV numeral 8. Shut up about your stomach.

Langly: Oh sure, my liver's shutting down, but who cares.

Frohike: Philanthropic Outreach — I bet the last donations these guys made was the three bullet holes they gave Alex Goldsmith.

Byers: You're guessing he hacked for them and then they killed him.

Frohike: Mmm.

Langly: The car's registered to one James Bond. Cute.

Frohike: Hey, check it. [The owner is returning to his car] Mr Bond, I presume.

Byers: Let's follow him.

[Frohike picks up a beeping football and is promptly flattened by three large football players]

Byers: Frohike, are you okay?

Frohike: Oh sure. Somebody's car alarm keeps going off.

Langly: What the hell... are you guys blind or what?

Byers: Um, Langly. [The players remove their helmets, they are indeed blind]

Frohike: A blind football team?

Jimmy: Not just a team, but a league. We're the first, but we've got franchises starting up; in California, Arizona and Florida. God bless modern technology; sonar helmets, beeping footballs. I know it will work. I promise you, one day, you'll be watching these men on ESPN. How are you feeling?

Frohike: Oh, peachy.

Team Medic: Nothing broken. [He leaves]

Byers: So all this was your brainchild, Mr...

Jimmy: Bond. Jimmy Bond. Call me Jimmy. [A couple of players smack into a table beside the Lone Gunmen] Whoa. Nice hustle guys. Now give me some wind sprints.

Linebacker: You got it coach. Boo-rah.

Jimmy: Listen, I'm real sorry about you getting tagged, but this practice is private. Are you gentlemen here for a reason?

Byers: We're journalists. We're interested in doing a story about your league.

Jimmy: Sports Illustrated?

Langly: The Lone Gunmen.

Jimmy: Right on. Hunting and fishing, I like that.

Byers: Specifically, we're wondering how you fund this operation. It must be expensive.

Jimmy: Yes, it is. But how do you put a price tag on a dream? Now, I know it sounds corny, but... when I look at those mens' faces, when they make a tackle, catch a pass... Okay, that hasn't actually happened yet. But still, to me, it's worth all the silver in Fort Knox.

Frohike: Very touching.

Jimmy: I mean, this is America. And every citizen has a god given right to play football.

Langly: Where do you get your money from?

Jimmy: We're a charitable endowment. We have benefactors that really believe in what we've got going on here.

Byers: Who are they? We'd love to talk to them.

Jimmy: So would I... to thank them. They're completely anonymous, and they want to keep it that way. They're not in it for the glory. Shouldn't you guys be writing this down?

Frohike: Uh yeah, look we're just going to go back to the mobile news unit. We're just going to grab a tape recorder.

Langly: We'll be right back.

Frohike: Yeesh. Can that guy be for real?

Byers: Well he's no criminal mastermind, of that I'm fairly certain. But this POE has a secret agenda even if he doesn't.

Langly: Well let's get the hell out of here and stop wasting our time.

Frohike: Yeah. [The van won't start]

Langly: Boys. [He hands the others some plastic tubing] Knock yourselves out.

Frohike: Where are you going?

Langly: Somebody's got to suck the pipe. It ain't going to be me.

Byers: Langly.

Belamarsk: Can I help you?

Langly: I can help you. For a price. I'm guessing that you knew a kid called Alex Goldsmith — number two hacker in America. Why settle for number two when you can have number one?

Belamarsk: That would be you?

Langly: Exactly. Whatever he was doing, I can do it better.

Belamarsk: Without even knowing what it is?

Langly: Doesn't matter. As long as we're talking computers, I've got the man skills, so it's all downhill if you know what I'm saying. Come check me out. [He hacks into the Department of Defence] Want to be a five star General? Just click the button. There, that makes the Pentagon, the Jet Propulsion Lab and the Queen's Bank of Georgetown, Cayman Islands. I hacked into them all inside of 19 minutes. Plus I reset your systems clock. Daylight savings. I got the job?

Belamarsk: You got the job. [He opens a drawer and pulls out a roll of gaffer tape]

Frohike: [answering mobile] Hello? [He is flattened by players reacting to the ring of his mobile]

Yves: Hello? Frohike?

Frohike: [to players] Get off me, you're crushing my pelvis. Oh man.

Yves: Are you talking to Byers? Should I call back?

Frohike: No, it's not Byers, it's just some huge guy. I mean... I mean... What is it Yves?

Yves: I just thought I should let you know the whereabouts of your obnoxious friend.

Frohike: Langly? Where the hell is he?

Yves: At the moment, being loaded into a car trunk.

Frohike: Langly's in there?

Yves: Top floor, most likely. I'm guessing this is where Alex Goldsmith got murdered.

Byers: What is this place?

Yves: The Belamarsk embassy.

Frohike: Where the hell is Belamarsk?

Byers: It's a breakaway republic from the former Soviet Union. It was recognised by the US last year.

Yves: At least there's one of you that isn't completely hopeless.

Byers: It looks secure.

Yves: Very. Motion detectors, armed guards, not to mention diplomatic immunity. Langly may as well be in Belamarsk.

Frohike: What does a breakaway republic have to do with a bogus charity?

Yves: An arms deal. The ruling party's faced with a rebel faction it wants to quash. They reckon a few metric tonnes of nerve gas will do the trick nicely. POE is a shell company created to hide the transaction.

Byers: For some reason they need a good hacker to complete the deal.

Frohike: You know a hell of lot more about this than you told us before. What are you doing in Long Island anyway?

Byers: I assume you're profiting out of this somehow.

Frohike: What's your angle?

Yves: It's none of your business.

Frohike: I'll take a wild stab and say money, filthy lucre.

Byers: If money's all you want, why don't you walk in there and do their hacking yourself?

Yves: Do you think they'll let Langly live to enjoy his profits?

[Belamarsk removes the tape from Langly's mouth]

Langly: Ow. Man, watch the lips. I got to tell you, so far this job sucks.

Belamarsk: You'll use these. You have T1 access, of course.

Langly: What's the hack?

Belamarsk: E-Stock online accounts. Set up a bogus corporation. Access the account debting protocols and transact a fifty share IPO purchase at $10 a share on every E-Stock account.

Langly: Every account?

Belamarsk: Yep.

Langly: That's probably 100,000 people. Fifty shares at $10 a share and you'll raise $50,000,000 just like that. [He snaps his fingers] And just like that — [He snaps his fingers again] — you'll have the SEC and Justice on your tail. You've got know they monitor every online transaction for fraud.

Belamarsk: Just make it happen by midnight.

Byers: We could kill their alarm system, that's a start.

Yves: Then what? You can't go bursting in there like the cavalry.

Frohike: What the hell is going on with Langly anyway? It's like, he hitchhikes all the way back to POE — for what? Just to get grabbed. I mean,

what was he thinking?

Byers: He was thinking with his heart, not his head. It's that question you asked of me; How far will we go?

Yves: Meaning?

Byers: How far will we go to get tell truth, to get the story, to fight the good fight? This is his answer; all the way.

Frohike: That dope. He's going to get himself killed.

Yves: Not just yet. Not if he's useful to them. I assume he it, which buys us a little time. I've dealt with these kinds of people more often than I can say, I know the type. First, we have to find out exactly what's going on in there.

Frohike: I could sneak in.

Yves: In broad daylight. Not easy.

Byers: Why sneak in, when you can ring the door bell? Especially if you're someone they know.

Byers: Mr Bond.

Jimmy: Back for more, huh? It's irresistible. The passion of these guys... I'm telling you, Monday Night Football better watch their butts. [He hoots enthusiastically] Love this game.

Frohike: Well enjoy it while you can. I think you just watched your last blind football game.

Jimmy: What are you talking about?

Frohike: There is no league, bub. We checked. The other franchises don't exist. There's just you.

Byers: POE is a front, set up to cover an illegal arms deal.

Frohike: And you're the fall guy.

Jimmy: Me?

Byers: Yours is the only name on record. Your company had a bank cheque cut to a computer programmer named Alex Goldsmith.

Jimmy: He was going to design our web page.

Byers: He's dead.

Frohike: Murdered by your friend at POE.

Jimmy: I knew it! I knew there was something up with that guy. Wouldn't give me his name, his phone number. And he's talking about anonymous benefactors. Oh, man. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

Byers: Anybody could have made the same mistake.

Frohike: Yeah. Blind football, who wouldn't sign on for that.

Jimmy: Hey, that was my idea. I thought that up. What about my team? What happens to them? You know, some people actually laugh at those guys, like blind football's funny. Like it's a lost cause. I think they're missing the point. These guys are out here because it's difficult, because people say it can't be done. They have courage. And god knows that we need more guys like that, to fight for the lost causes. 'Cause every now and then, one of them wins.

Frohike: That guy who set you up, we know where you can find him.

Jimmy: Hello. HELLO. HELLO. OPEN UP. YOU PEOPLE. OPEN UP. [The security gates open. Belamarsk and the Valet are walking down the drive to meet him] Hey there, remember me? How's it shaking, buddy?

Belamarsk: Mr Bond. Why you here?

Jimmy: I was in the neighbourhood. Came to by to meet the anonymous benefactors. HELLO. ANONYMOUS BENEFACTORS.

Belamarsk: Mr Bond.

Jimmy: Oh, you know what I just found out? THERE AREN'T ANYWAY. You know what else I found out? You're a murderer, who plans to bunch of nerve gas and you set me up to be your fall guy.

Belamarsk: Where did you get these ideas?

Jimmy: I know some people, okay. Investigative journalists, they write for this hunting and fishing magazine, and they set me straight about everything. You're going down my German friend.

Belamarsk: I am not German.

Jimmy: You're going up — up, up the river. I just wanted to tell you personally. So that every time you're in that prison TV room, watching football, you'll think about me and my boys. [He turns around to walk off and Belamarsk takes him out with a blow to the head from a golf club]

[Frohike, Byers and Yves are monitoring Jimmy from their van and see his unconscious body being dragged inside]

Yves: Please tell me that wasn't part of the plan.

[Jimmy is lying on the floor of the room next to Langly]

Langly: Psst! Hey guy. James Bond.

Jimmy: Is your name Langly?

Langly: Yeah. What are you doing here?

Jimmy: Brought you a little present. From your friends. Although I don't think it will fit under this door. Oh, wait. I just had a thought. [He punches a hole through a door panel] How's that?

Langly: By all means, keep whispering. Don't want to alert anyone.

Jimmy: Anyway, here you go. [He passes the modem through the door] This is what you call a ghostly mode circle.

Langly: Ghost modem circuit.

Jimmy: Yeah, pretty much. It enables you to contact your friends outside without the fear of electrical surveillance overriddance, which has to do with the —

Langly: Don't even try, all right.

Jimmy: You just plug it into your AC outlet over there.

Langly: DC. Thanks.

Frohike: We got track. [Langly appears on his monitor] Langly, what the hell are you doing in there, you moron.

Langly: [via modem link] I put my butt on the line trying to get the scoop on the POE, here.

Byers: And did you?

Langly: [via modem link] They want me to rip off E-Stock for $50,000,000 but I don't know for what.

Frohike: We do. It's their little slush fund for buying nerve gas. Meant to be dropped on the rebels in Bel... Bela...

Yves: Belamarsk.

Frohike: Yeah.

Byers: They'll kill thousands, Langly.

Langly: [via modem link] Alex Goldsmith must have found out about it. Probably refused to do the work.

Byers: And then they murdered him for it.

Frohike: So what are you thinking, man?

Langly: [via modem link] Well, I'm not stealing their fifty million, that's for sure. I'm not helping them kill a bunch of Bela-whatevers.

Byers: Then they'll kill you.

Yves: Do exactly as they say.

Langly: [via modem link] Excuse me?

Yves: Did they provide an account number to transfer the money into?

Langly: [via modem link] Yeah, some eastern European bank.

Yves: Langly is just where we need him.

Langly: [via modem link] What?

Belamarsk: That's it?

Langly: That's it. Fifty million clams. Told you I was the best.

Belamarsk: All of it transferred to the account number I gave you?

Langly: Right here. [He taps the screen]

Belamarsk: An excellent job.

Langly: Damn straight it is.

Belamarsk: Let's see that you get paid.

[Belamarsk is standing over Langly's shoulder. He pulls out his gun and is preparing to kill Langly when his Valet bursts into the room and a rapid exchange of Russian takes place about an urgent phone call]

Langly: What's going on?

Belamarsk: I'll be back. [He leaves]

Langly: What the hell just happened? [A rock is lobbed through the window]

Langly: What?

Jimmy: Come on, jump. Do it, jump

Langly: What? Are you nuts?

Jimmy: I jumped. It's not that far.

[In the van Yves is transferring the money from the Belamarsk account into another account. She finishes, grabs a disk and kisses Byers on the cheek]

Yves: Good luck. [She leaves]

Jimmy: Come on, I'll catch you.

Langly: Catch me? Promise?

Jimmy: Yeah. I got you. Come on, I got you.

Frohike: Hurry up, come on.

[Jimmy turns around at Frohike's approach, Langly falls to the ground behind him]

Jimmy: Yeehaa. Right on, man. You guys live life on the edge.

Frohike: Get off me.

Langly: Byers, we just can't leave. I got that guy's money, he's going to buy nerve gas with it.

Byers: No he won't. The ruling party in his country is bankrupt.

Langly: What are you talking about?

Byers: Yves siphoned clean that Belamarsk government account you provided her, stole god knows how many millions.

Langly: What? What about the $50,000,000 I stole?

Byers: You never stole anything it. Yves only made it look like you did.

Frohike: Hey, where the hell is Yves anyway?

Byers: She's gone. After having transferred the money to an untraceable account, I assume.

Frohike: Take the money and run. That was her plan all along.

Langly: And we're right back where we started.

[Langly gave the $1,000,000 cheque back to Mrs Goldsmith]

Frohike: So, she forgives you?

Langly: Yeah, well the $1,000,000 forgives a lot.

Byers: That was good of you, Langly. Giving her the cheque was the right thing to do.

Frohike: Yeah, man. I'm proud of you.

Langly: Ah, shut up the both of you. We're still flat ass broke. We're sitting on yet another great story we don't have the money to publish and last week's issues are still sitting on the loading dock. Let's just go home. [Byers starts the van, it's out of gas again]

[The push the van back the headquarters to find a bundle of papers waiting on their doorstep]

Frohike: Oh, man. Hey, guys. It's last week's Lone Gunman.

Byers: The whole press run. Where did this get here?

Langly: Oh no. No way. [He looks up, Jimmy is sitting on the stairs]

Byers: Jimmy, you paid for these?

Jimmy: You guys fight the lost causes. I want to help.

[The van rolls behind them, crashing with a load bang]