CIA
created in the shadow of the bomb
and operating in the shadows ever since.
A proud agency, where brave heroes
and brilliant minds
joined forces to battle godless Communism,
manage strategic alliances,
and develop effective interrogation techniques,
en route to winning the Cold War.
This is the story of America's great house of spies.
It is also my story, of how I learned
to defend our country by defying intelligence.
License? Good morning.
Here you go.
Oh, uh...
do you need to see my fluids?
Huh?
I...
bagged my fluids.
What's that? Gumbo.
Asopao.
My mother made it for me to celebrate my first day at work.
She's very proud, as you can imagine.
She, uh...
Yeah.
Hands up!
We have suspicious fluids!
What?
No. No, no, no, no.
That's my lunch.
Okay. Okay. Thank you.
Okay. Okay.
All right.
Mr. Martinez, apparently, you've been the victim of a security glitch.
I've been told that there was a memory leak
in our database which apparently merged our "new hired" list
with our "terrorist watch" list.
Our apologies.
Okay.
Between you and me,
consider yourself lucky that these gate jockeys
don't keep up on the terrorist briefings.
Technically, you were to be shot on sight.
Well, let me be the first to welcome you to the CIA.
I can't think of a better way for a proud American to serve their country.
Thank you.
Ooh.
Say, you're not planning on taking
any domestic flights in the next few weeks, are you?
No.
Good. Good.
That's probably best.
♪ ♪
You look lost.
Are you lost? Yeah.
This is my first day.
I have an appointment with the director.
Well, which director? Science and Technology?
Intelligence? Support?
Clandestine Services.
Well, lucky you.
Come on, I'll show you.
Clandestine Administration and Oversight Services,
or as we like to affectionately refer to it around here:
CHAOS.
You are entering a house of mirrors,
and you will not survive without help.
I can provide that help, and all I ask for
is a chance to prove my value.
Mr. Martinez is here, sir. Send him in.
I apologize for the mess.
We're under serious cost-cutting pressure.
Every program is up for funding review.
Remind me...
which program did you apply for?
Core Collector Training.
Well, that's unfortunate.
Our CC program's been red-tagged.
Red-tagged?
Yes, the program lost funding.
Job's been cut.
Sorry.
Well,
it was a pleasure meeting you, Operat...
Mr. Martinez.
So that's it?
I'm out?
But I've trained
my whole life for a career with the CIA.
My whole life.
When my brothers were at soccer camp,
I stayed home and studied Arabic.
While everyone else was dating,
I was working at a firing range getting paid in bullets
so I could train on semi-automatics.
I-I-I will, I would be,
I could be... a good spy.
I'm dedicated, I'm focused...
and embarrassing myself.
I'm sorry.
I suppose I should let you get back
to slashing jobs.
Wait a minute, Mr. Martinez.
Have a seat.
I'm won over by your spirit.
As it happens,
there is a position available here
at the Agency, an assignment
that requires the skills and savvy of a seasoned spy
cloaked in the veneer of youthful innocence.
Are you interested?
Yes.
Good.
Starting today,
you will be assigned to the Office of Disruptive Services.
Your task will be to monitor the activities of your office mates,
report back any proof of misconduct.
Consider no offense too small.
You...
want me to be a mole?
I want you to be a spy.
That is what you trained for your whole life, is it not?
Well...
yes, but... I see.
You're conflicted.
Well, I assure you, Mr. Martinez,
these men, the ODS...
represent a cancer...
a cancer fueled by feckless ego...
a cancer sucking the precious lifeblood
from the intestinal walls
of this agency.
You would be doing this country a great service.
Can I have some time to think about it?
No.
You're faced with a clear choice, Mr. Martinez.
Either you walk out of this office as you walked in--
a civilian...
...or you walk out of this office a spy.
♪ ♪
Get the door, would you?
The door?
Pants on, Billy! New guy.
Where are your manners?
"New guy" has a name.
Mick, right?
No, no, it's, uh, Rick.
Rick Martinez.
Martinez? You're a Mexicano!
Bueno, bueno! No, I...
Hey, where'd you pinch that?
Plotkin's office.
Chair's stolen?
If we were to put in a formal request,
you'd be sitting on a milk crate for six months.
Besides, Plotkin won't miss that.
He ate a bullet last week.
I'm sorry.
No, literally. He ate a bullet, on a dare.
It got lodged in his lower intestine,
and septic shock set in.
Now he's out
on full disability, and you're
the proud new owner of his Herman Miller.
Hey.
This the new guy?
His name's Rick.
And he's Mexican.
I'm Puerto Rican.
Oh, I stand corrected.
There you go-- your very own desktop.
Comes with Windows '97 installed.
You're kidding me, right?
You're familiar with the IRS,
U.S. Postal Service, FEMA-- what do they all have in common?
They're government-run agencies?
As is the CIA.
Now, when was the last time you walked into the post office
and shouted, "My God, I've stepped into the future"?
Will you look
at the furry mug on that!
He's so cute!
You're Scottish. Indeed, I am.
Billy Collins, born and bruised in North Edinburgh.
And I imagine you're wondering
what I'm doing working for the CIA.
A bit.
I was with the British Secret Service,
until I was... decommissioned
for a wee bit of reckless, boyish mischief.
Meaning he was deported.
A mostly irrelevant detail.
This proud fermenter
of negativity is Casey Malick.
I suspect
you're wondering how such a boorish man with...
well, zero discernable charm
has managed a 12-year stint with the Agency.
Oh, go on, don't be shy,
tell him.
I'm a human weapon.
I can never bring myself to admit it, but it's true.
That fine-looking specimen
is our fearless leader, Michael Dorset.
He's a tactical genius with a fevered brain.
Which has sadly rendered him a devoutly paranoid bastard.
Tell me... how did it come to pass that
Director Higgins chose to bless us with additional staff when
the Agency's cutting jobs right and left?
And the bastard emerges. I just
find it strange that Mr. Martinez is here.
I can only assume that the director's plan
is for me to absorb your working knowledge of the Agency...
and then replace you at half the pay.
Ho-ho!
I like this guy!
He's muy caliente!
You guys seeing this? Yeah. Yeah.
Um... is there something I need to know.
Hey, how about some coordinates?
I'm driving blind here. Working on it.
What's happening?
Plutonium residue was picked up at Dulles.
Passenger manifests ran against our terrorist list
a guy
named Khalid Farooq. It's our job
to locate and track Farooq's activities.
Michael's trying to get a lock on his cell.
Got him. Three blocks southeast.
That's on the other side of the square.
Do what you got to do.
Excuse me. Out of the way.
Sorry.
Excuse me.
So, tell me, how much do you know about the ODS?
Uh, I know that the program was created under Reagan,
that the ODS was meant
as a return to the days when ops were identified,
planned and implemented by a single team.
Right here. Stop.
Hey, that pretty much nails us, lad--
the last of the old-school spooks.
There. Farooq.
Ugh, look who's on his tail.
- Damn. - Who is that?
Clarkson, Homeland Security.
We're in potential hot water-- we're operating
within U.S. borders and failing to share intelligence.
Farooq's leaving. Martinez, make contact with Clarkson.
Give him this copy
of our coordination codes, and by all means, Okay.
treat him nicely-- he could have all our necks.
Clarkson's on the move.
♪ ♪
No, no, no, no! No, no! Wait! Wait!
It's cool. I'm CIA-- we're tracking your man, Farooq.
Our coordination codes.
We...
I want you to have them.
As a sign of mutual respect
and cooperation between our two great agencies.
What?
You're Russian?
Get in.
Hmm?
You're understandably confused.
It's because you've been set up, duped.
We made up the threat, we made up Farooq.
And we did all that to trick you into climbing into a car
and handing an envelope to a known Russian operative.
Casey?
It's a little slide show.
That there's some pretty damning stuff.
Selling secrets to the Russians?
You're looking at life without parole.
But why?
You think we didn't know that Higgins recruited you
to spy on us, Mr. Mole?
That he's been looking for an excuse to cut our program?
This is day one for you, right?
Well, consider this your first big lesson
about life on the inside.
Trust within the Agency isn't earned.
It's owned.
And now we own you.
If it makes you feel better,
I'm not ruling out a second date.
You've got to believe me.
It wasn't my idea to be a mole.
The director manipulated me into saying yes
before I even knew what I was saying yes to!
You traded your soul,
your honor, for the promise of a job.
Now, I can tell you've got the heart of a hero,
but heart isn't enough to survive in the spy game.
No. You need cunning.
You need to be able to sniff out deception, manipulation.
You need to think three steps ahead the whole time.
I'm not trying to make excuses, but it was my first day.
Don't despair, son.
From where I'm sat,
you've still got a bright future with the Agency.
Provided you play your cards right.
What? What-What do you mean?
What cards do I have?!
I have cards?!
What, no coffee?
You should have at least brought coffee.
It would go a long way toward winning us back.
You don't own me.
Sure, you've got
photos of me passing sensitive secrets to the Russians,
but I have an 800-pound gorilla in my corner.
I am sanctioned
by the Director of Clandestine Operations.
Show him the photos!
And I say he will pick my word over yours.
We wouldn't show the pictures to Higgins.
We'd leak the pictures to the press, and then you
would become so toxic that Higgins would have no choice but
to deny any connection. In fact,
he'd most likely end up leading an investigation
into your double-agent activities.
I thought you said I had cards!
I say a lot of things I don't mean.
Relax.
As Higgins' committed minion,
you still have value to us.
Jonathan Aldridge.
Freelance reporter.
He's been held hostage by Sudanese rebels
for the last five months.
And his family has tried repeatedly
to negotiate his release,
but every time they think they've reached an agreement,
the rebels simply up the ransom,
which currently stands at eight million dollars.
This came to us yesterday
courtesy of a French operative we know.
My hosts have become frustrated
with the slow response to their demand.
I am to be denied food and water
until the full ransom has been delivered.
I suggest...
I implore you to take them for their word.
Guys, if we're going to do this, we need to hustle.
We've tried repeatedly
to get Higgins to authorize a rescue mission,
but he's turned us down every time.
Why? Gutlessness.
He's the kind of guy who thinks
you can steal second while keeping a foot on first.
What Casey's trying to say is, Higgins defines success
as the absence of failure.
Inaction has become the battle cry of the Agency.
Good morning!
What are we up to?
Back off! Right now!
Weather report for tomorrow says rain.
Don't forget your umbrellas!
Freakin' zombie.
What's with that guy, anyway?
His program was cut.
He's got no office, no place to report.
Now he's stuck walking the halls.
Here's the deal.
We want you to go into this briefing
and convince Higgins to authorize a rescue mission,
which we, the ODS, will spearhead.
In return, should you prove successful,
we'll give you back your freedom.
Well, I think that should about do it.
Ah. I'd like everyone to welcome
Mr. Martinez,
a shiny new star in the Agency constellation.
We were just finishing up.
Do you have, uh, some business
that needs addressing?
Well, uh,
actually, sir, I was hoping you might reconsider
your position in the Aldridge hostage
situation.
Read your case file.
Mr. Aldridge is a French citizen.
That, per national interests, makes him a French problem.
Ah, yes, but he has dual citizenship.
He's lived here most of his life.
More importantly, he's All-American.
Literally.
He played cornerback for Florida State.
These briefings are about
new information.
Do you have some new information on Mr. Aldridge?
Well, we know that the rebels have cut off food and water.
The rebels have made a threat.
A threat does not constitute actionable intelligence.
But isn't this a time when a threat is enough?
These images are from the Chechen-Azerbaijan border,
a known haven for Al-Qaeda sympathizers.
Give me your assessments.
What are we looking at?
It appears to be some sort of bunker.
Possibly an ammunition cache.
Making it a site
worthy of a preemptive strike?
Yes, I suppose so.
Miss Carson, would you care
to bring Mr. Martinez up to speed?
It's not a bunker. It's a root cellar.
Those are potato farmers storing potatoes for winter.
Actionable intelligence, Mr. Martinez.
I suggest you take the time
to learn its true meaning.
Well, we're done here.
Ladies and gentlemen, thank you.
You know, I wouldn't sweat your call back there.
Half the room voted to bomb the potato people.
Thanks.
Fay Carson.
Rick Martinez.
I wouldn't bother committing the name to memory.
I won't be around very long.
You know, I could really go for a steak.
You like steak?
I'm betting you do.
I don't get it. Why
does the director need me?
You have to remember
that Higgins is mid-management.
The ODS has friends in high places.
They are protected, right up to the point where they screw up.
You've heard of office politics?
Ours come with poison pills and guns.
But enough shop talk.
Tell me something about yourself
that I can't expertly deduce.
I was engaged for three years
to my college sweetheart, but that's over.
Your choice or hers?
No, it was actually my brother's.
He convinced her to move to Denver with him.
Turns out that
they were secretly in love with each other for two years.
I know what you're thinking.
How could I possibly be a good spy
if I'm that blind to matters of the heart?
I don't consider that a character flaw.
It simply means that you're open, trusting.
A quality seriously lacking in most of the men at the Agency,
who, as you can imagine, tend to be rather secretive creatures.
Yeah, tell me about it. You know,
I have this crazy theory about dating in the Agency.
Would you like to hear it?
Yeah, sure.
Commit to being a couple on the first date.
Then work out the relationship details later.
Look at us, for example.
If we were to couple up,
we'd have to commit tonight, this minute,
because within a week,
we'd be keeping so many secrets from each another,
it would doom any hope of us surviving a normal courtship.
Are you trying to seduce me?
No.
Oh, man. Ah...
Excuse me.
Potty break.
What are you doing?
Saving your ass.
You obviously don't know that Fay works for Higgins.
She does?
She's his right-hand gal, his functioning brain.
My guess is, Higgins knows
that we know that he sent you to spy on us.
Oh, man. You think Fay was working me?
Have you looked in a mirror lately?
That woman is way out of your league.
Why else would she be wining and dining a newbie like you?
Oh, I'm such an idiot.
Martinez, meet our French operative.
Hi. Vidor, bonsoir.
Gentlemen, I do not bring you good news.
My government sent two agents in to negotiate
the release of Aldridge,
and, uh, well, we lost them.
Killed? Vanished.
Poof. My government has no more appetite
for further loss of life,
so we informed your director, with hopes
that he would step in, but sadly,
he doesn't trust our account of the lost agents.
Well, then, it falls on us to get it done. Billy?
Agreed. We'll get it done.
What are we getting done?
We're going to travel to Sudan without Agency authorization,
and rescue Aldridge.
I got us booked on a flight to Cairo, leaves Reagan at 6:40.
From Cairo, we'll piggyback a CTC hopper into Khartoum.
Our mission requires a translator.
An Arabic-speaking translator.
I don't suppose you've been inoculated for cholera?
No, malaria and yellow fever.
No cholera.
Oh, we'll have to deal with that.
The plan-- make contact with the rebels,
present ourselves as representatives
for Aldridge's family and pay the ransom.
And who exactly are you planning
to hit up for eight million dollars?
Okay, I see where this is heading.
Well, it looks like you guys got this covered.
I'm going to hit the gym.
Maybe sneak in a massage.
We're in for a hell of a long flight.
Is he always so helpful?
Don't worry about Casey.
At crunch time, he'll bring it.
Hello, Miss Moneypenny.
You look ravishing today.
I'm not really a Connery fan.
Oh, how is that possible?
This accent is a siren's call to reckless fornication.
Not for me.
Maybe if you could manage a Tobey Maguire accent.
You're joking.
What can I say?
I like a lap-size man.
We really need your help, Balshik. And we're willing
to make it worth your while.
A trade, perhaps? A trade?
You mean, a bribe?
What are you going to bribe me with, Dorset?
Money?
I work for the Counterfeit Office.
I'm sitting on billions.
Mm-hmm.
What about Greece?
What if I could get you stationed in Greece?
Then would you be willing to make a trade?
You could make that happen?
I spent three weeks in a Serbian tool shed,
duct-taped to the Mediterranean Field Director.
In his darkest hours, my co-captive confided in me
a rather colorful array of personal failings
and professional malfeasances.
Trust me, I can make it happen.
Rest assured, if I am not surrounded
by slim, tanned Greek men
by week's end,
I will destroy you.
Higgins is gunning for you.
What? Yeah, well,
he's convinced the ODS is inserting themselves
in this Aldridge problem
and that you're helping them.
I...
am not at liberty to say.
Look, I can only warn you.
I can't protect you.
By the way, you owe me 54 bucks for that steak dinner.
Oh, I'm so sorry about that. I got pulled away.
By Michael, no doubt.
He was saving me
from whatever nefarious plan you were, you know,
seducing me for.
And you believed him?
Yeah.
Because I'm the evil ex.
You didn't know?
Yes, Michael and I used to be married.
Until I divorced him for being too controlling.
Which was apparently a message
he failed to receive.
So, you weren't spying on me for Higgins?
I mean,
you really did like me?
Yes.
I really did like you.
Note the past tense phrasing.
How did you know where to find me?
Your company-issued phone
comes with a tracking system.
Higgins knows where you are at all times.
Bring him in.
Okay, he's headed toward the ground floor.
He's exiting the building.
Split up. He should be in the courtyard.
What up, my bros?
His phone was stuffed in the bag of bird seed.
And just when I was beginning to think him an idiot.
Hello?
No, this is his boss.
Well, I'll be sure to ask.
Someone claiming to be his mother.
Wondering if he enjoyed
the asopao.
Asopao? Do you think it's code?
Look into it.
That is a beautiful color on you.
Not every man can pull off such a flamboyant undershadow.
They confiscated my good sunscreen at the airport.
Which is why I hate-- hate-- flying commercial.
Why the sour puss, lad?
We're on horseback, riding through the heart of hell
to save a man from certain death.
This is heroes' work.
Trust me, when you're old and feeble like Pink Cheeks here,
you'll look back on these as happy days.
It's just...
you're not worried about what Higgins is gonna do
to us when we get back to the Agency?
Only if we fail.
They're sending out a greeting party.
Mm-hmm.
Casey, I want you to ride down and make contact.
Inform them that we've come to pay
Aldridge's ransom.
Me? What about the mole? He's the one who speaks Arabic.
Which is why I can't risk having his head blown off
before we settle into negotiations.
This will explain everything.
Good luck.
Yeah, bite me.
Here you go, read this.
Human weapon?
No doubt, he's picking his moment.
At the risk of sounding disparaging,
I sense we're not dealing with gentlemen.
Tell them that's two million.
The remainder will be brought once we've confirmed
Aldridge is alive.
He wants to know where the rest of the money's hidden.
That remains a secret until we have Aldridge safely in hand.
Okay, that guy just handed him a machete. That can't be good.
He says he doesn't like secrets.
Or us. And he's happy
to start chopping off fingers until we tell him.
Well, he's clearly gained the upper hand in this negotiation.
Oh, great.
...CIA!
Okay. Okay, what did... what did you say?
I blew our cover.
I told him that we are elite operatives of the CIA.
That chopping off our fingers would accomplish nothing.
That we've been trained to endure intense torture.
Trained to beat death itself.
I'm loving the bold words, sonny,
but I fear he's about to ask for a demonstration.
I know.
Highlight of the mission, right there!
What did he say?
He says that I am a fool.
And he's always happy to do business with fools.
Tell him you want to see Aldridge.
Aldridge.
Jonathan?
My name is Michael.
I'm with the CIA.
The rebels have agreed to let us take you home tomorrow.
They're allowing us to leave to go get the rest of the ransom.
They want to show that they can be trusted to do business.
What was your head count back there?
14 hostages.
Chinese oil speculators,
Dutch aid workers,
and our two missing French operatives.
So, what are you thinking? Extraction?
Four of us against 100-plus heavily-armed rebels?
Not a chance.
You are aware that halof those poor souls will starve
before their releases are negotiated.
But the four of us mounting a suicide mission
won't solve that problem.
So I say we contact the Agency,
share our intel. There are multiple lives at stake now.
That's exactly why they won't take action.
CIA's not in the business of rescuing foreigners, remember?
We're going to have to find another way.
Today I witnessed the bravest thing I've ever seen in my life.
I watched a man eat a scorpion.
A live, poisonous scorpion.
It was somewhat extraordinary.
Less extraordinary than it appears.
I recognized it as an Emperor scorpion.
They're not lethal.
They're actually considered
a delicacy in some parts of the world.
Martinez, I owe you an apology.
Why?
Well, it's hard to pinpoint.
Truth be told, I've lost track of all the lies
I've fed you over the last couple of days.
What I'm offering is
a blanket apology.
You see, the thing is, we're a pretty tight group.
We watch out for one another, and it's been that way for, what?
Six glorious years.
I want you to forget what I told you
about trust being owned within the Agency.
It can be earned.
And today you earned it, plain and simple.
Well, since we're in love again,
I say we give the kid his present.
What's this?
Your photos from the Russian tryst.
You, sir,
have earned your freedom.
I propose a toast to Señor Rick, mission MVP.
First honors.
Wow.
Well, uh...
I suppose it's no secret, but I really hated you guys
the first day on the job when you took ownership of me.
I really hated you guys the second day, too,
when you forced me
to put my career on the line with Higgins.
Yesterday was a travel day,
so mostly, I hated the airline food, but today, after seeing
those hostages, after seeing how much
you guys are willing to risk to save even one life,
I recognize now that
you're not bad for the sake of being bad.
You're bad for the sake of doing good.
You guys are true heroes.
I mean that.
Ah.
Oh, man, that is, uh...
That is... good... stuff.
Sometimes we can be right bastards.
Oh.
You've been listening
to the dulcet pipes of my beloved homeland.
Don't bother trying to dig out the receiver, lad.
It's glued to your inner eardrum.
What did you do to me?!
Apologies for drugging and ditching you like we did,
but you see, it was the only way we could see fit
to motivate Higgins to launch a rescue operation.
By getting me taken hostage?
We needed to put pressure on him.
We needed to put an operative in impending danger,
and that meant you.
Okay, and you couldn't tell me that in advance, huh?
Well, there was some concern you might chicken out.
Not from me, mind.
Who thought I would chicken out?
No, no, I'm not naming names.
Just know I was outvoted two-to-one.
What's happening?!
Mission is underway.
Keep the hostages covered
and on the ground.
A CIA rescue operation is underway.
I need everybody to lie flat
and cover yourselves.
Martinez, it's very important
you try and not get wet.
Why?
Huh, guys? What happens if you get wet?
Sorry, buddy. This might sting a wee bit.
Oh.
We have to split the hostages into two groups.
We can't fit everybody into one helicopter. Come on, let's go.
Billy and I will take the more injured.
You and Casey will lead the others to the second drop point.
You got it? Let's hustle.
We only got about a minute
until the rebels are back on their feet.
Come on.
Hold 'em here.
Hold, hold. Okay.
Do you know how to say "We surrender" in Arabic?
"Isteslemna."
Great.
I suggest you start shouting it now.
You're running away?!
What happened to the Human Weapon?! Huh?!
You know, I knew you would suck!
Isteslemna!
Okay.
Isteslemna! Okay.
I heard your doubts and insults.
Your words stung.
They stung hard.
Any hostages hurt? No, we're good.
Keep them safe. We'll provide all the cover we can.
Rescue copter's on the way.
You're in charge of the hostages.
Before I do what I'm required to do,
I feel compelled
to offer you a chance to redeem yourself,
Mr. Martinez, if only in my eyes.
Do you have anything to tell me?
You mean about the ODS?
What I can tell you is this...
The men of the ODS prioritize results over risks.
In my opinion,
that's what makes them so awesome.
It's been said
that the two greatest dangers facing the world are these--
order
and disorder.
I happen to accept half of that statement as true.
Clearly, you accept the other.
I'm confident that time will prove me right.
And when that day comes,
rest assured,
I will show no mercy.
That'll be all.
I'm not fired?
Oh, no.
You are now permanently assigned to the ODS.
What's this?
Official memorandum.
We pulled a few strings
and got you assigned a super cool code name.
"Scorpion."
I mean, there's no practical application,
but it sure helps with street cred.
I don't understand.
Why am I still here?
Our mission report
was leaked to the White House, detailing your personal heroics,
which is why your job is safe... for now.
That's...
Wow. Thank you.
Why are you thanking us? We didn't leak it.
Well, if not you guys,
then... who?
Fay, hear me out.
I came here for two reasons.
First, to thank you for leaking the report.
And secondly, and most importantly,
to ask you to come home with me.
What?! We should couple up.
Tonight. Right away.
We should walk right out of this bar
and into a committed relationship.
You know, from day one at the Agency, everyone I've met,
everyone I've trusted, has tried to play me.
Everyone but you.
And in spite of the crazy week I just had,
I still want a career in the Agency.
I need someone that I can trust completely.
I hope that someone can be you.
Evening, laddie, Fay.
May I say you look quite ravishing tonight?
I think the more appropriate description is "ravished."
Hi, Billy.
Casey.
Jerk ass.
What are you guys doing here?!
We've been activated.
I-MINT shows a handful of organic tea farms
in central Cambodia that might be a front
for heroin refinement.
I suspect the director is throwing us back
into the field as punishment for the Aldridge affair.
Am I right, Fay?
You have to expect bite-back when you poke the bear.
Martinez, I don't want to see any tears about this.
You're in the spy game now.
So, you with us?
What's our cover?
We go in as buyers
for a Portland-based organic tea company.
I packed for you.
That's a sexy look.
Has jungle fever already set in?
You won't be laughing when we encounter leeches.
And we will encounter leeches.
All right, ladies, we got about a two-mile hump.
That's great.
Casey, you think you can take them?
Yeah, but I'll need somebody to draw their fire.
Not it. Not it.