I'm Agent Rick Martinez.
Let me be the first to welcome you to the CIA.
And this is the story of America's great house of spies.
You've heard of office politics?
Ours come with poison pills and guns.
Spy trap.
I knew this was going to be a fiasco.
I've been assigned to a special covert unit,
conceived to go where others can't,
and to do what others won't,
whether the mission's authorized or not.
We each have our own special skill, Martinez.
I lead, Billy charms people,
Casey hurts people, and you translate.
We are the ODS, last of the old-school spies.
Sync and correction by Mlmlte www.addic7ed.com
Oh!
- Oh, my God! - Oh! Oh, my God! I'm so sorry!
No, it's, it's okay, I, um...
I spilled coffee all over my suit.
Luckily I brought a change of clothes
for a reception tonight.
I wasn't looking.
You're not leaving, either.
I'm sorry. I'll, I'll go.
No, it's okay.
I'm done.
Wow.
Yeah, it's, uh...
Not really appropriate for work, but it's better than wearing
a triple latte all day.
So this reception...
You wouldn't happen to have a date?
Would you?
Mr. Martinez, are you asking me out?
That kinda depends on your answer.
If it's a no, then I was just joking.
Is that really how you would ask me out?
By backing into it?
Oh, Mr. Martinez. Be bold.
You know, if someone wants me, I'd like to know.
I'd like someone to say, "I like you,"
or "I want to be with you. Let's start with dinner."
Okay.
I do like you. And I do want to be with you.
Dinner, sometime. No, no. No. No.
Dinner. Tonight.
Let me think about it.
I'll get back to you.
Morning, Martinez. You're late for
the meeting in the conference room.
What? I didn't know we had a meeting.
Why would you? You weren't invited.
Somebody clue me in.
Fay said they'd need an Arabic translator
for the morning briefing with Higgins.
The regular guy has food poisoning.
Which is what happens when you leave
your breakfast burrito unattended in the break room.
Did you poison him?
That's neither here nor there.
What's important is, they are planning
an operation for Paris.
And we love Paris.
You know, fay and I got married there. We eloped.
We're all painfully familiar with this story.
What's the operation?
Does it matter? It's in Paris.
Now get in there.
Can I help you, Mr. Martinez?
I... You sent for a translator?
What happened to Operative Griffith?
I don't know.
"Are you ready to sacrifice everything to Allah?"
"Yes, but I want to return to Beirut
to see my children first."
"You will see them next in heaven,
next to Imam Khomeini and Allah."
Beirut, Khomeini... It's Hezbollah.
Which means Hassan Ohana.
- Who is he? - The man who coordinated the suicide bombings
in Tel Aviv last month. Killed seven Americans.
Hassan is the voice you've been translating,
telling the bomber to
detonate himself.
And you traced the calls to Paris.
We believe he's hiding there.
Let's activate a team.
Surveillance only.
I want to know with certainty,
Ohana is operating out of Paris,
before we turn our info over to the French.
I'd like to volunteer the ODS, sir.
This is a delicate operation.
The French distrust us.
In fact, there's been zero cooperation between our agencies
since '95, which is when we
shut down our field office
in Paris because they accused us of
spying in their backyard.
Were we?
Does it matter?
What matters is that
French intelligence can never know that we're there.
Sir,
you of all people know how good the ODS is
at flying under the radar.
I strongly suggest that you take this under consideration.
Pat me on the back, gentlemen.
I just got us a trip to Paris.
Great!
Our last two missions have been to such hellholes.
Finally, a city with good food and deep bathtubs.
You take baths?
I enjoy a good soak.
- You have a problem with that? - No.
- What's the mission? - Surveillance.
We're tracking down a terrorist controller named Hassan Ohana.
What? You know him?
We know his work.
Hezbollah controller. Mass murderer.
This little vacation just turned serious.
Paris, huh? Oui.
I booked the hotel arcole.
Same room as our honeymoon.
Maybe you could come stay for a couple of days.
You really don't get the concept of divorce, do you?
I had to ask.
It was pretty romantic, though, wasn't it?
Our Parisian wedding? You mean our elopement?
Wasn't the wedding I wanted. The wedding
I wanted would have included family, bridesmaids,
a wedding dress.
But no, we had to have a secret wedding,
because you couldn't have your picture taken
and be compromised.
You know, from your tone, I'd say
you're probably not coming to Paris.
No. Okay.
You know, how about... I pick you up a bottle
of that perfume you love so much?
Ooh, I'd love it.
What's it called? The perfume?
Yeah. Remind me.
Oh, I'd rather you remember.
I-I-I don't understand why you're so upset about Paris.
It was our honeymoon.
We were head over heels in love. It was the perfect week.
Well, that's one version of the story.
I just don't get it.
No, you obviously don't.
Bye, Michael. Enjoy Paris.
Blanke. Me?
Yeah. What are you doing on the bench?
This is my bench.
I'm stuck here; No office, no department.
Well, it's depressing.
I am aware of that.
I'll tell you what. We're heading overseas for a while.
- And you want me to come along. - No.
Of course not. But... you can use
our bullpen while we're gone. Even my desk, if you like.
Hey. Thanks, man, this could really be a break for me.
People see me at a desk, doing stuff.
It could lead to something. No problem.
But there is something I need you to do for me.
Mm-hmm. You ever been married?
Wow.
That's a hell of a signal.
Figured it would be a lot harder to break into
their cell towers and pick up chatter.
Probably because
we're not using their cell towers.
The CIA has a handful
of secret towers all over France.
All right! Who's hungry?
I certainly am.
Sorry, chum.
I don't get to eat?
You need to monitor phone calls
and send them stateside for analysis.
We each have our own special skills, Martinez.
I lead, he charms people,
he hurts people,
and you translate.
We'll bring you a doggie bag.
Assuming there are leftovers, which...
Is highly unlikely.
Yeah, I think I'm getting the Ravioles Potagères.
I mean, if memory serves, it's fantastic.
Just so flavorful.
But the duck is great, too.
Fay raved about it during the honeymoon.
What?
Can we please be spared
reliving the halcyon days of your failed marriage?
I'm just trying to help you two order.
This isn't a second honeymoon.
Hassan is still out there.
We're here to hunt a terrorist.
It's serious business.
Garçon.
Can we see a wine list?
French. English.
French.
Arabic.
It's a keeper.
Merci.
Bonsoir, mes vieux amis. Luc.
- Been a long time. - Yeah.
You wouldn't be here on assignment, would you?
Us? No.
Just a vacation.
Oh, really?
Hmm.
Four CIA operatives on vacation.
Four operatives? Yes.
We know about your partner.
Where is he, by the way?
He's in his room.
He's been walloped by the curse of jet lag.
Oh. Is that a fact?
Mm-hmm.
Vous pouvez procéder.
We know you are American spies.
Hey! Excuse me!
What do you guys want?
Don't touch that!
Shut up! Get the hell out of here!
Hello?
Merci.
It would seem your colleague has been caught with
what looks suspiciously like
eavesdropping equipment,
which now belongs to me.
Enjoy your vacation, gentlemen.
It will be my pleasure
watching your every move
while you appreciate the beauty of Paris.
But I offer this warning:
No more spying.
I would hate to see you all behind bars.
Bon appétit.
- So anything? - Actually, yes.
We got a hit from the calls we got a voice match, and we're giving it to NSA.
We also got a trace from our cell tower in Paris.
You got an address?
626 Boulevard Jourdan.
Got it. Well, that's where the good news ends.
These French have shut down our surveillance
and are camped right outside our hotel.
Yeah, it's not sunny this side, either.
The French have already filed a formal complaint.
Of course they have.
I want to check out the NSA address,
but first we need to shake our tail.
I just want to know who let them know we were coming.
Cocktail Barry.
Cocktail Barry?
He's a lower level diplomat working for the CIA,
and he's been assigned to the embassy here in Paris.
He... he goes to lots of cocktail parties
and listens to conversations.
We need to find out if cocktail Barry's been compromised.
I resent his very existence.
Now, now, Casey, every man has his niche.
We look for intel under rocks.
He looks under champagne flutes.
Look alive, Luc.
Your targets are on the move.
I need you to get to Paris.
Go see the ambassador.
Assure him our spying is just conjecture
and doesn't need to become a political football.
Hold his hand.
Tell him it's going to be okay.
I'll be on the red-eye tonight.
One other thing I need you to do while you're there.
I'd like you to swap out Operative Martinez's cell phone.
Excuse me?
You've had one primary task,
and that is to figure out a way to use Operative Martinez
to help me get information on the ODS.
Yet that has been slow in coming.
Well, the mission was to win him over.
Isn't that about hearts and minds?
Mm. Hearts and minds.
Two things that can become cloudy and confused.
I need information.
Crystal clear information.
Calls, e-mails, texts.
This is an exact duplicate of his phone.
You are to switch it out with the one he has. Got it?
I-I-I do, but I'm not sure
if the opportunity will present itself.
I hired you because you're intelligent and...
...capable.
I have every faith that you can create that opportunity.
♪ ♪
There's our man.
Sometimes I think we're on the wrong end of the spy game.
And so we're all just standing there,
and it's a little more than awkward.
So, finally, I say, "excuse me, minister.
"You don't have to apologize for my jacket,
but your parakeet better start explaining."
Hello, Barry.
A word?
Excuse me.
Are you insane?
Waltzing in here and talking to me out in the open like that?
Yeah, unfortunately, the stealthier option
has been removed from the table, Barry.
We're looking for a terrorist here.
French intelligence has been following us
since we got to Paris.
Oh, and you led them here.
Are you deliberately trying to destroy my career?
Don't you get it, Barry?
Your career in France is over.
You were the only person in this country
with advance knowledge of our arrival.
Maybe you let something slip
over a bottle of cab sauv.
You know, a little pillow talk.
I understand why you want to brag about us.
It's-it's kind of like being mates with the four tops.
I haven't said a word.
Well, then, the French are spying on you.
Either way, you're just as blown as we are.
That's impossible.
Impossible?
Well, we and the man watching this building
from across the street would beg to differ.
You don't understand.
I've dedicated 15 years of my life
to fix the shattered alliance between the United States
and French intelligence communities.
And you cannot imagine how grateful we are,
but while you've been playing grab-ass
and making froggy friends,
you forgot the fact that you're here to spy on these people.
Ugh. Listen to you.
You need to ditch
the cold war philosophies, gentlemen.
Let's try some progressive thinking here, huh?
In today's world,
the United States needs as many allies as it can get.
And, thanks to me,
the French are our friends.
And friends don't spy on friends.
Is that so?
What are you doing?
Oh, my God!
Do you know how expensive that is?!
My bust!
No! Stop it!
No!
No! No...! Don't...!
Ah.
There's our bug.
What does this say about friendship to you?
I'll tell you what it says-- one minute, the French
are shaking your hand; Then, as soon as you
turn your back, it's full-on buggery.
Just like that, they...
They've ruined me.
I'm done.
Mm. Almost.
You can still be a spy, Barry--
a real spy--
for 15 more minutes.
You a good driver, Barry?
I mean, a really good driver.
I'm so sorry.
My accelerator must have become stuck.
Morning.
Fay. How are you?
Good. You?
Great. Busy.
Working.
Ah. At a desk.
Good.
Wow.
What?
Oh, it's nothing. It's just...
Are you wearing perfume?
Mmm.
Smells like Paris.
What's that brand?
You can tell Michael that I am insulted
that he thought I'd fall for this.
What? Michael?
No, I... I just think you have an alluring scent.
You know, I'm pretty sure that statement
falls under sexual harassment.
Okay. I'm sorry.
Please don't report me.
I already have two strikes.
All right, should be right here on the left.
Unbelievable.
NSA can pinpoint it right to the apartment.
We have satellites that can tell
if the part in your hair is crooked.
No sign of Hassan.
Hope you guys are up on your shots.
This place is a pigsty.
Looks like a jihadi sleepover.
Anybody smell bleach?
Guys.
Uh-huh.
Bleach kills the memory card
and erases any fingerprints.
I guess we found Hassan.
What's he saying?
He wants to know who we are.
Tell him we're his professional dishwashers.
God knows he needs them.
He wants us to come out. Tell him not to shoot.
He's reloading.
In a second, he's going to realize
that we aren't shooting back.
How are your knife throwing skills?
I'm more of a stabber than a thrower.
What is he doing?
I think he's dead.
I didn't hit him that hard.
It wasn't the door that got him.
Ricochet, obviously.
Are we staying or are we going?
This isn't Hassan; It's just a kid.
Well, it's a kid who wanted to kill us.
You know, Hassan, like most controllers, is a loner.
The guys staying here aren't houseguests.
Must be a terror cell.
Working with Hassan.
Hell-bent on targeting Americans in Paris.
Which paints a bloody great bull's-eye on the U.S. embassy.
I repeat the question-- are we staying or are we going?
We need help.
We need the French.
We stay.
With a suspicious dead body?
Interesting choice.
Et ils se moquent des forces françaises.
Alors tu les ammènes à l'hôtel, et tu les escortes à l'aéroport.
Immédiatement. Allez.
Ça va?
- I've been ordered to take you to your hotel
where you will pack your bags and be escorted to the airport
immediately. - The mission isn't complete.
- Hassan is still out there. - Hassan is dead.
It wasn't Hassan in there.
That was just some kid.
Based on our voice analysis,
Hassan is at least in his 40s.
Share that with your supervisors.
My supervisors? But my supervisors think I am an idiot
because of that stunt you pulled on me in front of the embassy.
So... thank you for that.
The kid heard us in the kitchen.
He knew we were there,
so why didn't he just run away?
Because he wanted to kill you.
Oh. Controllers don't kill, Luc.
They leave their dirty work to others.
Exactly. The real controller--
the real Hassan-- would have ran,
but that kid stayed and fought back. Why?
Maybe to stop us.
We were getting too close.
Too close to finding something.
Something in that apartment.
That is why... The mission is over!
You Americans...
You think you are cowboys.
You rush in, guns blazing--
God bless America-- and then you just walk away
and leave your mess for someone else to clean up.
Easy, Luc.
No, no, this is not America, this is my country.
And now it is my mess.
How am I supposed to get my kids to soccer practice?
I'm sorry?
Yeah. That was my wife's car you destroyed.
I just paid it off.
So who's going to bring my kids to school now? Hmm?
How am I supposed to get to the market?
I'm not James Bond. I don't get
a new Aston Martin with every mission.
You ever think about that, you cowboys?
Luc.
You're right.
Sometimes we can get a bit overly exuberant.
The fact is, we're not James Bond either.
Billy and I carpool to work in my ten-year-old Taurus,
Martinez's car has manual windows, and...
Well, not exactly sure how Malick gets to the office.
He just kind of appears.
But, look, whatever's going on between our governments,
whatever political bad blood we're all choking on,
it doesn't have a damn thing to do with us.
Not with the guys in the trenches,
trying to do the best we can with the crap that they give us.
But let me tell you something, Luc.
At the end of the day,
it doesn't matter what flag we're waving
or whose bureaucratic ass we're kissing,
we both want the same thing.
And we're sorry about your car.
- You sure Hassan is still out there? - Yes.
And whatever that kid was hiding in the apartment
could lead us to him.
So, come on, Luc.
They're not gonna look for him, but we can.
Antiterrorism is in charge of the case.
It's out of my hands.
They will be investigating his apartment
for at least another two hours.
I'll pick you up in three.
I recommend you get something to eat.
Could be a very long night.
Wha...?
Deputy director.
What are you doing here?
Well, I came all the way to Paris to tell you...
Yes.
I'll go out with you.
Actually, I was here anyway,
but the answer is still the same.
The thing is, I already made plans with the guys.
Oh.
Well, will any of them be dressed like this?
Let me make a phone call.
So, where did you go to college?
No.
You didn't go to college?
No, meaning I refuse to answer that question.
We're on our first date.
In Paris.
No one knows us here.
Except the various people you have trailing you.
I say let's step it up.
No college talk, no talk about smothering parents
or favorite books or unrealized life dreams.
It's all just filler...
Till we get to the good stuff.
Let's get to the good stuff.
Would you like me to start?
Sure.
I'm... spontaneous.
I'm silly, sometimes.
I like a good laugh
and a great kiss.
And I'm quite confident that if we were to have sex,
it would blow...
Your... mind.
Wow.
It's your turn.
Wow me.
Okay.
Wait, you gonna tell me a secret?
No.
I could work with that.
Give me your phone.
I'm gonna give you my personal cell number.
Are you gonna take my calls?
No.
But you can try.
There's nothing here.
What did you expect to find?
A diary with his plans?
O ye of little faith, Luc.
Hello there.
♪ Oh, sweet baby Luc ♪
♪ you ain't got a clue ♪
Can you stop that?
Michael, we're supposed to work here.
♪ 'Cause I got the why does a radical Muslim ♪
♪ fundamentalist have a guitar in his room? ♪
♪ blues ♪
Because they use it for storage.
Work visas.
Nice work, townsend.
The visas the ODS found in Ohana's apartment
belonged to a group of men
who are part of a Hezbollah terror cell.
Circling our embassy, no doubt.
We believe this man is Hassan Ohana.
Qaudir Ben Ali.
Sir, the teleconference is set up.
This is fantastic.
Have we shared all this with the French?
Yes. And we have the NSA figuring out coordinates.
Sharing intel with our allies, working together.
We can have a tactical victory
and a political one.
Director Renard.
I understand you have in your possession the intelligence
my and your operatives collected?
Yes.
Based on the documents you've given us,
we can use cell towers to triangulate their calls
and confirm their location.
Splendid.
There is one problem.
Our cell towers are down.
Might it be possible to borrow yours?
Well, wouldn't that presume that we have cell towers in Paris?
It most certainly would.
I would be most happy to give you
the coordinates to our cell towers.
They believe Hassan is in one of the apartments
on the second floor.
Okay, so please don't tell me your plan is to bash down
every door on the second floor.
Of course not.
Terrorists like Hassan-- they hear we are near,
they blow themselves up,
along with anyone else in the building.
Tous au deuxième.
This, this is an EMP pulsator.
Allez-y.
It fires a high-frequency radio burst that
burns out... It disables all
cell phones and detonators
within a small radius.
We know, we invented it.
No, no, no, no.
The French invented them.
Who bloody cares?
We have one.
So you take out Hassan's detonators, cell phones--
no explosions. Good plan. Vive la France.
Let's get on with it.
Okay... Attendez mon signal.
Allez-y.
Now.
That... was not supposed to happen.
Actually, I think the French did invent it.
Luc, what the hell are your guys doing?
Falling back.
With no lights, the crowd--
it's too-too dangerous to go in.
What is it with you people always surrendering?
All right, let's split up.
Billy!
No time for thinking, son.
Ooh.
Are you good?
Actually, I'm in a great deal of pain.
Go!
Ooh.
Nice takedown.
High praise from the master.
America, here you are,
basking in the afterglow of a job well done.
Thanks, Luc, for everything.
You guys were actually somewhat helpful.
Well, our mission has been accomplished,
and finally, we showed the world
that the French and the American can work together.
I'm Scottish.
Luc, it's great
working with you on this one.
Someone else might not have been as generous.
I'm glad to work with the ODS, Michael.
You know what?
I have no more doubts.
You are the most intelligent... Brave...
Strong...
And handsome agents the states has to offer.
Please distribute those compliments among yourselves.
Bon voyage!
Welcome back, Miss Ferrer.
And congratulations on a job well done.
That's very kind
of you, sir, but I really didn't do much.
Oh, it's not how much you do,
it's that you do your part well.
The CIA is a vast machine
that depends on each cog
turning in unison with the next.
Hassan has been put out of commission,
our relations with the French are better than ever.
Yes, sir, I'd have to say
that this entire affair has been an unqualified success.
It is unqualified,
isn't it, Miss Ferrer?
I swapped out Martinez's phone as you asked.
So, the next time the ODS decides
to fly under the radar, I'll be flying with them.
Yes, siree, this has been one sweet day.
All right, proud patriots, you know the drill.
Check everything in your bags:
Electronics, shoes, toiletries.
Toiletries? Seriously?
The French have no boundaries
when it comes to bugging our intimate regions.
I once found a microphone in my man groomer.
Security already scanned all of this stuff.
If I know Luc, he went above and beyond,
which is why we are gonna go
above standard operating procedure.
It doesn't bother you that Luc might have bugged us?
Bother us? Martinez, Luc is a spy.
A sweeter man, you will not meet, but a spy nonetheless,
as are we.
Which is why I would be offended
if he didn't bug us.
Particularly after we bugged him.
I think we got ourselves a winner.
Martinez,
your cell phone's been bugged.
You've been officially initiated into the spy versus spy game.
Hey.
Oh. How was Paris?
Successful mission, but I did miss you.
Yeah, sure.
No, I did.
You remembered.
Not exactly, but I remembered
the dinner at the hotel our first night.
You came in in the most devastating dress.
The one that we bought at the local designer shop that day.
I mean, it didn't look that good in the window--
I can tell you that much--
but it was blue, deep blue,
and I was... I was gone.
And then you remembered the perfume.
Oh, no, no. I dug the dress out of storage
and had it tested in the lab to determine the perfume on it.
The lab.
How romantic.
Mmm.
Thank you.
All right.
Well done back there in Paris.
The ODS are good.
All that tooting their own horns--
apparently, it's justified.
Um...
What's wrong?
I don't think this-- us-- will work.
What? Why?
Do you want me to be honest?
Yes.
You see? There's the problem.
I'm not a very honest person.
In fact, I'm not very trustworthy either.
Look, I know who I am, and I am a person
who does what's best for me
before everything else, including the truth.
I'm not easily chased off.
I would just chew you up and spit you out.
Oh, yeah?
I might surprise you.
I might just bite back.
No, I'm sorry.
Oh.
Oh, okay.
Uh... yeah. Well...
I'm sorry, too.
Is that a new phone?
Uh, yeah. The French bugged my other one.
Can you believe it?
What did you do with it?
The old phone? Yeah.
Destroyed it.
Good.
Mr. Martinez, I wasn't done
with this conversation.
♪ Wham! Bam! Mon chat splash, git sur mon lit a bouffé ♪
♪ sa langue en buvant dans mon whisky ♪
♪ quant a moi peu... ♪
Oh! Sorry.
Sync and correction by Mlmlte www.addic7ed.com