The Pretender s01e11 Episode Script
Potato Head Blues (a.k.a. Bomb Squad)
[Man Narrating.]
Previously on The Pretender.
[Sydney.]
His name is Angelo.
Think ofhim like a sponge someone who can absorb the intellectual, emotional even the physical traits of others.
He will find Jarod for us.
[Miss Parker.]
He better, Sydney.
Hejust better.
[Keyboard Clacking.]
Yes, Mr.
Parker.
He's searching the Internet for any signs of him now.
We'll find Jarod and whoever inside the Centre is helping him.
[Phone Hangs Up.]
Keep working, Angelo.
Keep working.
- [Explosion.]
- [Man.]
Whoo-whee.
! You see? Get too close to that bad boy and you'll be a-picking your nose with your wrist.
[Chuckling.]
Now, you boys are 21, aren't ya? That's what I thought.
Fill up their trunk, Eugene.
- Now, where were we? - You were telling us about Mr.
Nobel.
Yeah, old Nobel was like a Picasso of gunpowder.
- He invented the Big Bertha, you know.
- The Big Bertha? The mother of all Roman candles.
Three time-delayed sparkle explosions wrapped in a color-spray smoke banger lined with quarter strands ofT.
N.
T.
- Sounds impressive.
- Put on a New Year's Eve show that put old Dickie Clark to shame.
[Chuckling.]
I don't know where he went.
Just disappeared.
- Yes.
- Hmm.
He has a habit of doing that.
Thank you.
There is no way thatJarod could have known we were coming.
Zero.
Have you noticed that it never seems to work the other way, Syd? Maybe there is a reason.
Stay frosty, Nobel.
It's all being recorded for posterity.
This way.
The note that was faxed said we'd find the bomb over here.
- Carlson.
- [Beeping.]
Hello.
Oh, yeah.
Bad Betty.
Fax Bomber's usual.
Whoa, cowboy.
Betty needs her beauty rest, or she's a real witch to wake up next to.
Tools.
Whoa.
I found something.
- Looks like a note.
- He always leaves one.
What's it say? "Catch me if you can, you miscreants.
" "Miscreants"? What does that mean? [Rapid Beeping.]
It means "Get the hell outta here"! Move! Move! [Coughing.]
Is it always like this? Welcome to the Bomb Squad, Jarod.
[Man Narrating.]
[Chatter On Police Radio.]
So, Nobel, now you know what a close encounter with the Fax Bomber feels like, huh? Mm-hmm.
Man, I wish I could have been here.
Can't imagine why, sir.
- My ears are still ringing.
- Used to be some scumball went to make a bomb threat they'd pick up the phone like a decent human being.
Now what? They fax 'em in.
- Scumball? - Sort of like a miscreant, only different.
[Forced Laughing.]
Someone mark the calendar.
Lamont made a funny.
Now, this bomber faxes his threats in.
That's a unique M.
O.
Must help him cover his tracks.
Well, this guy doesn't need any help.
We have run every piece of evidence he's left behind through the best technology we have: D.
N.
A.
, hair samples, fiber, impressionology Guy leaves us nothing to follow.
Nothing.
We gotta catch a break sometime.
So you, uh You people, you stay here and keep after this.
I'm gonna go lie to the press.
[Groans.]
What's the matter, Carlson? You catch a little more steel last night? Hey, Lamont, why don't you be a good civil servant? Get the two heroes some coffee.
He loves me.
Did you have another bomb go off on you before? I got a little shrapnel in my shoulder during the war.
Hero here's the only guy refers to Grenada as a war.
- I got the medals to prove it.
- Come on.
You know the only medals that count in your family are the ones your big brother won in 'Nam.
I heard that you brought the last two of the Fax Bomber's devices in intact.
I got lucky.
Hey.
Don't you worry about it,J.
One day this Fax Bomber's gonna slip up.
When he does, we're gonna be there to catch him.
I just hope the S.
O.
B.
blows himself up.
[Man.]
The detonator was connected to an accelerator.
This is a dangerous new escalation for the Fax Bomber.
Hand those out, will you, John? This is my sight profile of the bomber.
It includes a, uh, computer-generated composite sketch based on some incomplete information.
- He looks like my Uncle Fred.
- Looks like everyone's Uncle Fred.
Based on his, uh, faxed threats and other data the bomber is a left-handed, disgruntled ex-city worker.
The chances are he's already expressed his discontent.
- We all know what that means.
- Back to the crank files.
Excellent, Lamont.
Now, I expect that all of you people will put in whatever overtime is necessary to screen those files and to interview every possible perp.
Questions? No? Good.
Go to work.
- Excuse me.
Lieutenant Chomsky, do you have a moment? - Sure.
I've been going over your file on the fax bomber, and with all due respect, sir You know, when people say, "all due respect," they generally don't have it.
Sir, it-it's just that I think that your profile of the perp is exactly who he wants us to think he is.
I think that his grudge against the city and everything else about him is a mislead.
Guy's here a week, he's already bucking for my bars.
No, sir.
I just happen to have a different opinion.
- Based on what? - I know people.
I'm listening.
The D.
N.
A.
and the impressionology all came up empty.
He's trying to lead us down a high-tech path but I believe that we can snag him with a low-tech solution.
He's right-handed but he wants us to believe he's a lefty.
The verticals and the horizontals are all jagged which would indicate that he's been writing with his subdominant hand.
- You're a graphologist? - Uh, no, sir, but I was a palm reader once.
Shall I tell you about your future here? Sir, I believe that our bomber is a city employee who is not necessarily disgruntled.
He's enjoying watching us run around almost as much as he enjoys setting off explosions.
If you want to suggest that, uh, this clown is some kind of a Merry Prankster I recommend that you talk with Rachel Newton.
Rachel is gonna spend the next year of her life learning how to read Braille because of the Fax Bomber.
- I wasn't trying to trivialize that, sir.
- No, no.
I know you weren't.
You were just trying to make, uh, an impression show off your erudite European upbringing.
- My what? - The cadence in your voice You were raised by a French nanny.
Well, could be Belgian, I suppose.
- How did you know that? - Oh, I know about people too.
[Sydney Speaking Foreign Language.]
[Continues.]
[Miss Parker.]
Damn it, Broots.
You said we had him cornered.
But we did.
I don't know what happened.
- Jarod happened.
- Oh, spare me, Sydney.
All I know is that I'm fed up with always being a step behind him.
[Raines.]
So am I.
- Uh, l-I gotta go.
- Stay here, Mr.
Broots.
- What brings you down from the Tower, sir? - Plumbing.
Plumbing? I've come to plug a leak.
- Hey.
- Hey.
What's up, Nobel? The Fax Bomber, a.
k.
a.
Uncle Fred.
Okay.
Not my finest hour, but, hey nobody got a great look at this guy, so the sketch is, you know, sketchy.
This is a fascinating machine.
Yeah.
This here is a Decatronics Turbo Graphics II workstation.
This little bad boy makes composites, puts disguises on portraits ages missing kids, which is what I'm doing now.
- That's incredible.
- Some of my best work's been on the backs of milk cartons.
[Chuckling.]
Think of the D.
T.
G.
II as sort of a high-tech Mr.
Potato Head.
- Mister who? - Potato Head.
Oh.
Now, this is interesting.
You call him Mr.
Potato Head, yet his head is his whole body? Yeah.
Cool, huh? He comes with little interchangeable ears eyes and little hats.
Old Spud Man is the original master of disguise.
You know, this would make a wonderful toy for children.
Hey, Nobel, crank file just turned up a hot one.
Let's run.
- Hmm.
- [Doorbell Ringing.]
Oh, God.
What'd he do? Curtis! They finally came to arrest you! - Curtis! - Busy, Ma.
! Mrs.
Haring, we're not here to arrest your son.
I knew someday the cops would show up and take him away.
- Curtis.
! - I said, get off my back.
! - Ma'am, we just wanted to - Thirty years old, and he still lives in my basement.
Day in and day out, writing his little letters.
I should've bought stock in Bic.
Don't say nothing, Ma.
This is all going on tape somewhere.
I know it.
Listen to that.
Do you know what it's done to my social life having him down there? - You're not gettin' nothin' out of me.
- I'm in the prime of my life.
I should go out, get myself some nice shoes and find myself a man.
- Ma! - Sir did you write these letters to the utilities commission? And I'll write a hundred more till they give me back my workman's comp.
I got an inoperable hernia working for this city and they threw me to the wolves.
How'd you get that letter? What's your name? I'm Carlson.
This is, uh, Nobel.
Hold still, man.
I can't see your badge number.
He don't have no hernia.
Hejust don't wanna move out of the basement.
Shut up, Ma! You know how my legs tingle every time I sit for too long.
Yeah, and I know where you're sittin'! Sir, we're not here to talk about your workman's comp.
We want to ask you some questions about your whereabouts.
Hey, if you think you got something on me, you come back with a warrant.
Till then, me and my mother's got nothing to say to you miscreants.
I should've married a dentist.
- At least then his teeth'd be better.
- Ma! This guy's classic bomber material.
Former city worker, domineering mother basement workshop, a little antisocial behavior.
- I'm not convinced.
- Huh? He's written 253 letters to the city and counting.
If he's crossed the threshold into planting bombs don't you think he would have given up the correspondence? - Did you notice what he called us in there? - Miscreants.
- Right.
Nobody uses that word except for that guy and - The Fax Bomber.
I'm gonna get under this guy's skin before he hurts someone else.
[Electronic Squawking.]
Wake up! Wake up! Good morning! five, six seven, eight nine, ten - You can stop counting.
You're here.
- Oh.
[Chuckles.]
You must have stepped into the room.
It's 11 steps to the door.
I did.
That's very good.
It's funny, Dr.
Jarod.
I used to hate math in school.
Now my entire life is basic arithmetic.
Nine steps from my bed to the bathroom seven steps to the chair.
Just be happy it's not long division.
It's a beautiful day.
Why don't we go outside? Oh, no.
l l-I think I'd rather stay here.
Rachel you have to go outside sometime.
I was supposed to work in my studio but it was such a nice day, I decided to go on the rooftop at city hall.
That's what happened the last time I went outside.
You were in the wrong place at the wrong time.
But that is not your fault.
You can't stop living your life because of it.
I hear he set off another bomb.
Yes, he did.
Thankfully, nobody else was hurt.
You know, when I had my eyes behind a camera I could see things no one else could see.
I could take a thousand shots and tell you which one was peryect before it was even developed.
I can remember details of nearly every picture I ever took.
That's ironic.
They tell me he was there that day.
That I must have seen the man who did this to me as he was setting his bomb.
But as hard I try, I can't remember.
I can't believe they think one of us is leaking information toJarod.
[Sighs.]
Oh, I wish I hadn't eaten that poppy seed muffin.
They're giving us a polygraph, you idiot not a urine test.
I thought it was both.
It should be, for you.
What-What is that supposed to mean? You're the one who handles the information around here.
I'm sorry.
I'm in a filthy mood.
Let's not accuse each other.
Oh, that means a lot coming from Jarod's teddy bear.
Miss Parker.
To calibrate the machine please answer the following question untruthfully.
- Are you Eleanor Roosevelt? - Yes.
Have you pursued Jarod to the best of your ability? - Yes.
- [Raines.]
Become her, Angelo.
Tell me if she is lying.
[Man.]
Did you willfully misfire your weapon when attempting to apprehend Jarod in Miami, Florida? - What? - Yes or no, please.
No.
Smoking is not permitted during a polygraph.
Have you received a personal message from Jarod? It was a bunny.
Yes.
Did you secretly contactJarod via a secure Internet connection? Yes.
Did you attempt to provide him with classified information? Yes, but with a view to bringing him home.
- Have you ever secretly met with Jarod? - Mm-mmm.
No.
Is he lying? Is he the one? Have you ever used a controlled substance? [Clears Throat.]
No.
Were you in the lab when information regarding Jarod's origins was leaked? Yes.
Did you leak the information Jarod received - via special courier in Miami, Florida? - No.
- Have you ever lied to the Centre? - No.
[Gasping.]
He's the leak, isn't he, Angelo? So, you've decided to put in a transfer to Forensics, hmm? I've just been sifting though all the Fax Bomber debris.
You went over three thousand pieces of evidence here? Three thousand and twenty-five.
- I've specifically been studying the wires.
- No, no, no.
The feds, they covered every centimeter of that copper.
I know.
I've been studying the encasements.
There's no pattern.
This guy is random except for the detonator connectors.
He's very sensitive about them.
He wants to be sure.
That's why they all have exactly the same parallel cut pattern.
Come on.
Exactly the same? Exactly.
Notice the angle of the grooves on the parallels.
Gives us something to run down with the knife manufacturers.
- And the cut contours confirm that he's - Right-handed.
Yes, sir.
Low-tech.
- Very.
- Mmm.
- Hello.
- Hey.
Hey.
How's the spud of a thousand faces? Well, I only have the 13-piece set so technically, this one's only got, uh One hundred and seventy-nine.
I have a project for you.
I'm up to my ears in milk cartons here.
Well, this one's very special to me.
It's my mother.
I was wondering if you could age her 30 years.
- I want to see what she would look like.
- [Pager Beeping.]
- I'll make it worth your while.
- Hey, I'll see what I can do.
- Thanks.
- All right.
[Siren Wailing.]
It's right over there under the bus.
It's right over there under the bus.
- Did the threat come in by fax? - It was more of a phone call.
One of my drivers found the unclaimed suitcase on the 3:15 from Traverse City.
- All right.
We'll take it from here.
- Thanks.
Hey, can you guys kinda hurry up? 'Cause I got buses backing up on me here, man, and l Take as much time as you need then.
Thanks.
- You okay? - Yeah.
Come on.
[Buzzing.]
[Horn Honks.]
Got a backache? [Switches Off.]
They told me we would have a lot ofhoax calls in training but I never thought it would feel like this.
- Let go,J.
- That's easy for you to say.
- It was pretty tense back there.
- Don't worry about it.
- That's nice work.
- Oh.
Yeah.
- From my army days.
- Let me guess.
- You got drunk one night.
- Blitzed.
[Chuckles.]
My whole unit.
After Grenada, they stationed us down at Fort Buchanan, Puerto Rico.
I do not remember one thing that happened that entire month except for this needle artist.
He was a shriveled-up little Puerto Rican guy who had a hole-in-the-wall shop in old San Juan.
- He inked every single guy in the whole platoon - The whole platoon.
You know how many eagles this guy had to do in one night? Give us a break, will you, Carlson? You partner with this guy too long, you know his old unit like it was your own family.
[Rachel.]
What are you doing? I'm going to turn this space into a darkroom.
- I live in a darkroom.
- Good.
Because I need you to develop a roll of film for me.
Oh, that smells familiar.
- I thought you'd remember it.
- Is this some kind of new therapy? Call it a simulation.
- Simulation? - Mm-hmm.
I'm going to create an environment with all the stimuli you need to recreate an event and for you to become someone.
Who do you want me to become? - Yourself.
- Oh! Oh, my camera.
Oh, I haven't touched this since the well, since the day at city hall.
Now I want you to develop that roll of film the pictures you took that day.
- Oh, but there's no film in it.
- I know.
I want you to develop the pictures in your mind.
I'm on the rooftop at city hall.
Natural light is at its- its peryect angle.
The building is is closed.
It's Sunday.
And I'm, uh, getting last-minute shots for my gallery opening.
[Jarod.]
Are you alone? I think.
l-I don't see anyone.
I don't I don't see anyone but I feel a a tingle on the back of my neck.
- [Footsteps.]
- I don't see anyone, but I hear something.
- What do you hear? - Footsteps, walking quickly away.
But, uh, you don't think anything about it because you have other pictures to take.
It's right before it happens.
We can stop this if you want.
No.
I walk over to where the footsteps are coming from but he's gone.
Rachel, do you see the bomb? It's only an instant before the flash.
- Do you see him? - No.
But I smell something.
- I smell - You smell him.
It must be, um I don't I don't know what it is.
It-It's cologne.
No, it-it's, um, medicine, menthol.
- What athletes put on sore muscles.
- Liquid heat.
Thank you.
- Are you Steven Johnson? - Yeah.
Special Agent Jarod Webster.
F.
B.
I.
? What did I do? Nothing, Mr.
Johnson.
I'm just doing a security check on one of your old army buddies, Daniel Carlson.
He put you down as a reference.
If you want to clear Carlson, you're talking to the wrong guy.
- Why's that? - Carlson talks a good game but the rest of the squad had to carry him every step of the way.
Well, the way he puts it, you were a very tight unit.
We'd probably have shot him ourselves if he hadn't caught the shrapnel in the shoulder.
He has the company tattoo on his forearm.
You don't see any moronic little birds on me, do you? Hell, Carlson come in one day all drunk queer little bird on his arm, talking about how he wanted the rest of us to get 'em.
Guy's a dangerous little wannabe.
Well, thank you very much for your time.
Hey, what's the little weasel applying for, anyway? - Bomb Squad.
- God help us all.
- [Siren Wailing.]
- [Jarod.]
You paged me? [Man.]
Oh, yeah, dude.
Sorry Santa was a little late but, uh, "Ho, ho, ho.
" She's still beautiful.
Now, um, you said you'd make it worth my while.
Patience, Mr.
Potato Head.
- Thank you.
- Okay.
Jarod, the Fax Bomber just blew himself up.
- Where's Carlson? - He phoned it in.
[Sirens Wailing.]
Let me through.
! Let me through.
! Let her through.
This is her house.
This is her son.
Let her through.
Are you hurt? I wasn't home last night.
I had a date.
Curtis? Curtis, Mama's here.
Ma's here, honey.
I had a feeling about this guy.
I came over here to see if I could get him to talk.
He must have seem me coming because the whole place went up.
- It knocked me all the way back to the end of the driveway.
- It was a nice play, Carlson.
- Get yourself cleaned up.
You look like hell.
- Thank you, sir.
I should have known it was him.
Another croissant, Miss Parker? Cold coffee's plenty.
He always seemed to be a step ahead and then suddenly, we were a step behind.
Broots has the classic nonconfrontational personality.
I doubt he would put himself in harm's way.
[Car Engine Starts.]
[Miss Parker.]
Where the hell is he going now? Private investigator? Could he have found Jarod? I don't know.
But somebody just put themselves in harm's way.
It doesn't make sense.
The same bomber, who was so intelligent he didn't leave as much as a speck of D.
N.
A.
behind, accidentally blows up his own mother's house? - Don't start with me, Nobel.
- And why would he keep all of his bomb-making equipment in a box in the garage when he had his own basement workshop? - Maybe he was feeling the heat and was planning to make a move.
- I don't think he's our man.
Why? Is he left-handed? As a matter of fact, he is.
The issue of guilt is up to a jury.
Our job collect evidence.
[Alarm Chirps.]
[Man.]
Now we have an exclusive with Officer Dan Carlson of the city Bomb Squad.
So, you defused his devices and brought him to justice.
How does it feel to be the man who uncovered the Fax Bomber? I'm just glad this nightmare for the city is finally coming to an end.
Not quite.
- Here.
- [Gun Cocks.]
What do you What is this? What are you doing? Sweepers? In my house? - [Crying.]
- That's all right.
That's okay.
It's all right.
He's in the middle of the custody battle.
The P.
I.
was trying to dig up something on the ex he could use in court.
- The plane ticket? - Time for little Susie to fly home to Mommy.
At least we've cleared him.
Cleared him? He lied to the Centre.
- He never said anything about being married.
- He wanted his privacy.
- None of that justifies what we did.
- You're damn right.
You're late.
Well, I spent all morning on the phone with a lawyer.
He dropped my case.
Hmm.
I'm sorry to hear that.
Mmm.
Are you, Miss Parker? Thanks to you, my daughter hasn't stopped crying since last night.
Tomorrow, I have to send her back to her mother, which is a place she doesn't want to go.
None of that has anything to do with the Centre.
I work here.
I sold my soul to be in this place.
I'm not selling her.
So don't mess with her.
And don't mess with me.
Hey, Lamont, what are you doing tonight? - Hey, Carlson.
- What? You'd better take a look at this.
What? Ugh.
This is some kind of hoax.
Now, we know the-the Fax Bomber is in a hospital bed.
Well, I guess he checked himself out.
Let's go.
- Main elevator banks.
- Right over there.
- Come on! - Maybe we should wait for backup.
And miss our chance to be heroes? Come on.
Whoa.
Another Bad Betty.
Oh, God.
Let's not rush into anything here.
Oh, look.
He left a note.
Careful.
Slow.
"This time it's real.
" Hmm.
See? - No! - [Bell Dings.]
Forget it, Carlson.
This is the express.
It won't stop for 60 floors.
Oh-oh.
Sixty floors if we're lucky.
- What are you talking about? - Barometric detonator.
Designed to detonate at altitudes 600 or 700 feet.
My guess is we're good for 45, 50 floors, tops.
- We gotta get out of here! - No, we've gotta defuse this bomb.
- No, there's no time! - Oh, there's plenty of time.
It should be easy for you.
It's just like all the other bombs you used to make.
- Huh? - You know the bombs you defused - so you could be a hero just like your big brother was? - Who the hell are you? Just your average, everyday miscreant.
And someone who doesn't think that Rachel Newton should have lost her eyesight so that you could be put in the limelight.
Now, listen to meJarod.
I did not expect anybody to get hurt.
Tell that to Curtis Haring.
He was the guy you tried to blow up so you could cover your tracks.
All right! That's enough! Now, come on! Defuse this thing! Not so cool under pressure when it's not your own bomb.
But you see, people that plant bombs, they're cowards at heart.
And since I planted this one, I don't want to stick around to watch it blow.
- [Bell Dings.]
- Uh-oh.
Twentieth floor.
Better get to work.
Hope you can figure out which wire to snip.
Bye-bye, hero.
No! Jarod! Jarod! [Beeping.]
[Thudding.]
I guess that's why they call it the express.
[Rapid Beeping.]
[Electronic Male Voice.]
Ten, nine, eight seven, six five, four three, two one.
Kaboom.
You're under arrest, Carlson.
[Curtis.]
that all of you at city hall will pay egregiously for what has happened to me.
- Are you sure you want to say that? - Say what? - "Egregiously"? - Who's writing this letter? - I was only making a suggestion.
- It's my letter! - All right, already.
What do you want from me? - Ma! - You don't even know what it means.
- Do too! - Well, I can spell it.
- Just write it! - E, G, R - Get my dictionary.
! - I'm not going in that smelly basement.
- Ohh! There's a fly on me.
- "Egregiously.
" - A fly on me! Aah! - [Knocking.]
- [Jarod.]
Morning, May.
- Where's Rachel? - There's something you should see.
Took her about a halfhour to get down there.
But she got there all by herself.
He's still searching, Mr.
Parker.
But we will find the leak.
I promise you that.
Did you find something, Angelo? Keep working.
Keep working.
[Keyboard Clacking.]
[Mews.]
Previously on The Pretender.
[Sydney.]
His name is Angelo.
Think ofhim like a sponge someone who can absorb the intellectual, emotional even the physical traits of others.
He will find Jarod for us.
[Miss Parker.]
He better, Sydney.
Hejust better.
[Keyboard Clacking.]
Yes, Mr.
Parker.
He's searching the Internet for any signs of him now.
We'll find Jarod and whoever inside the Centre is helping him.
[Phone Hangs Up.]
Keep working, Angelo.
Keep working.
- [Explosion.]
- [Man.]
Whoo-whee.
! You see? Get too close to that bad boy and you'll be a-picking your nose with your wrist.
[Chuckling.]
Now, you boys are 21, aren't ya? That's what I thought.
Fill up their trunk, Eugene.
- Now, where were we? - You were telling us about Mr.
Nobel.
Yeah, old Nobel was like a Picasso of gunpowder.
- He invented the Big Bertha, you know.
- The Big Bertha? The mother of all Roman candles.
Three time-delayed sparkle explosions wrapped in a color-spray smoke banger lined with quarter strands ofT.
N.
T.
- Sounds impressive.
- Put on a New Year's Eve show that put old Dickie Clark to shame.
[Chuckling.]
I don't know where he went.
Just disappeared.
- Yes.
- Hmm.
He has a habit of doing that.
Thank you.
There is no way thatJarod could have known we were coming.
Zero.
Have you noticed that it never seems to work the other way, Syd? Maybe there is a reason.
Stay frosty, Nobel.
It's all being recorded for posterity.
This way.
The note that was faxed said we'd find the bomb over here.
- Carlson.
- [Beeping.]
Hello.
Oh, yeah.
Bad Betty.
Fax Bomber's usual.
Whoa, cowboy.
Betty needs her beauty rest, or she's a real witch to wake up next to.
Tools.
Whoa.
I found something.
- Looks like a note.
- He always leaves one.
What's it say? "Catch me if you can, you miscreants.
" "Miscreants"? What does that mean? [Rapid Beeping.]
It means "Get the hell outta here"! Move! Move! [Coughing.]
Is it always like this? Welcome to the Bomb Squad, Jarod.
[Man Narrating.]
[Chatter On Police Radio.]
So, Nobel, now you know what a close encounter with the Fax Bomber feels like, huh? Mm-hmm.
Man, I wish I could have been here.
Can't imagine why, sir.
- My ears are still ringing.
- Used to be some scumball went to make a bomb threat they'd pick up the phone like a decent human being.
Now what? They fax 'em in.
- Scumball? - Sort of like a miscreant, only different.
[Forced Laughing.]
Someone mark the calendar.
Lamont made a funny.
Now, this bomber faxes his threats in.
That's a unique M.
O.
Must help him cover his tracks.
Well, this guy doesn't need any help.
We have run every piece of evidence he's left behind through the best technology we have: D.
N.
A.
, hair samples, fiber, impressionology Guy leaves us nothing to follow.
Nothing.
We gotta catch a break sometime.
So you, uh You people, you stay here and keep after this.
I'm gonna go lie to the press.
[Groans.]
What's the matter, Carlson? You catch a little more steel last night? Hey, Lamont, why don't you be a good civil servant? Get the two heroes some coffee.
He loves me.
Did you have another bomb go off on you before? I got a little shrapnel in my shoulder during the war.
Hero here's the only guy refers to Grenada as a war.
- I got the medals to prove it.
- Come on.
You know the only medals that count in your family are the ones your big brother won in 'Nam.
I heard that you brought the last two of the Fax Bomber's devices in intact.
I got lucky.
Hey.
Don't you worry about it,J.
One day this Fax Bomber's gonna slip up.
When he does, we're gonna be there to catch him.
I just hope the S.
O.
B.
blows himself up.
[Man.]
The detonator was connected to an accelerator.
This is a dangerous new escalation for the Fax Bomber.
Hand those out, will you, John? This is my sight profile of the bomber.
It includes a, uh, computer-generated composite sketch based on some incomplete information.
- He looks like my Uncle Fred.
- Looks like everyone's Uncle Fred.
Based on his, uh, faxed threats and other data the bomber is a left-handed, disgruntled ex-city worker.
The chances are he's already expressed his discontent.
- We all know what that means.
- Back to the crank files.
Excellent, Lamont.
Now, I expect that all of you people will put in whatever overtime is necessary to screen those files and to interview every possible perp.
Questions? No? Good.
Go to work.
- Excuse me.
Lieutenant Chomsky, do you have a moment? - Sure.
I've been going over your file on the fax bomber, and with all due respect, sir You know, when people say, "all due respect," they generally don't have it.
Sir, it-it's just that I think that your profile of the perp is exactly who he wants us to think he is.
I think that his grudge against the city and everything else about him is a mislead.
Guy's here a week, he's already bucking for my bars.
No, sir.
I just happen to have a different opinion.
- Based on what? - I know people.
I'm listening.
The D.
N.
A.
and the impressionology all came up empty.
He's trying to lead us down a high-tech path but I believe that we can snag him with a low-tech solution.
He's right-handed but he wants us to believe he's a lefty.
The verticals and the horizontals are all jagged which would indicate that he's been writing with his subdominant hand.
- You're a graphologist? - Uh, no, sir, but I was a palm reader once.
Shall I tell you about your future here? Sir, I believe that our bomber is a city employee who is not necessarily disgruntled.
He's enjoying watching us run around almost as much as he enjoys setting off explosions.
If you want to suggest that, uh, this clown is some kind of a Merry Prankster I recommend that you talk with Rachel Newton.
Rachel is gonna spend the next year of her life learning how to read Braille because of the Fax Bomber.
- I wasn't trying to trivialize that, sir.
- No, no.
I know you weren't.
You were just trying to make, uh, an impression show off your erudite European upbringing.
- My what? - The cadence in your voice You were raised by a French nanny.
Well, could be Belgian, I suppose.
- How did you know that? - Oh, I know about people too.
[Sydney Speaking Foreign Language.]
[Continues.]
[Miss Parker.]
Damn it, Broots.
You said we had him cornered.
But we did.
I don't know what happened.
- Jarod happened.
- Oh, spare me, Sydney.
All I know is that I'm fed up with always being a step behind him.
[Raines.]
So am I.
- Uh, l-I gotta go.
- Stay here, Mr.
Broots.
- What brings you down from the Tower, sir? - Plumbing.
Plumbing? I've come to plug a leak.
- Hey.
- Hey.
What's up, Nobel? The Fax Bomber, a.
k.
a.
Uncle Fred.
Okay.
Not my finest hour, but, hey nobody got a great look at this guy, so the sketch is, you know, sketchy.
This is a fascinating machine.
Yeah.
This here is a Decatronics Turbo Graphics II workstation.
This little bad boy makes composites, puts disguises on portraits ages missing kids, which is what I'm doing now.
- That's incredible.
- Some of my best work's been on the backs of milk cartons.
[Chuckling.]
Think of the D.
T.
G.
II as sort of a high-tech Mr.
Potato Head.
- Mister who? - Potato Head.
Oh.
Now, this is interesting.
You call him Mr.
Potato Head, yet his head is his whole body? Yeah.
Cool, huh? He comes with little interchangeable ears eyes and little hats.
Old Spud Man is the original master of disguise.
You know, this would make a wonderful toy for children.
Hey, Nobel, crank file just turned up a hot one.
Let's run.
- Hmm.
- [Doorbell Ringing.]
Oh, God.
What'd he do? Curtis! They finally came to arrest you! - Curtis! - Busy, Ma.
! Mrs.
Haring, we're not here to arrest your son.
I knew someday the cops would show up and take him away.
- Curtis.
! - I said, get off my back.
! - Ma'am, we just wanted to - Thirty years old, and he still lives in my basement.
Day in and day out, writing his little letters.
I should've bought stock in Bic.
Don't say nothing, Ma.
This is all going on tape somewhere.
I know it.
Listen to that.
Do you know what it's done to my social life having him down there? - You're not gettin' nothin' out of me.
- I'm in the prime of my life.
I should go out, get myself some nice shoes and find myself a man.
- Ma! - Sir did you write these letters to the utilities commission? And I'll write a hundred more till they give me back my workman's comp.
I got an inoperable hernia working for this city and they threw me to the wolves.
How'd you get that letter? What's your name? I'm Carlson.
This is, uh, Nobel.
Hold still, man.
I can't see your badge number.
He don't have no hernia.
Hejust don't wanna move out of the basement.
Shut up, Ma! You know how my legs tingle every time I sit for too long.
Yeah, and I know where you're sittin'! Sir, we're not here to talk about your workman's comp.
We want to ask you some questions about your whereabouts.
Hey, if you think you got something on me, you come back with a warrant.
Till then, me and my mother's got nothing to say to you miscreants.
I should've married a dentist.
- At least then his teeth'd be better.
- Ma! This guy's classic bomber material.
Former city worker, domineering mother basement workshop, a little antisocial behavior.
- I'm not convinced.
- Huh? He's written 253 letters to the city and counting.
If he's crossed the threshold into planting bombs don't you think he would have given up the correspondence? - Did you notice what he called us in there? - Miscreants.
- Right.
Nobody uses that word except for that guy and - The Fax Bomber.
I'm gonna get under this guy's skin before he hurts someone else.
[Electronic Squawking.]
Wake up! Wake up! Good morning! five, six seven, eight nine, ten - You can stop counting.
You're here.
- Oh.
[Chuckles.]
You must have stepped into the room.
It's 11 steps to the door.
I did.
That's very good.
It's funny, Dr.
Jarod.
I used to hate math in school.
Now my entire life is basic arithmetic.
Nine steps from my bed to the bathroom seven steps to the chair.
Just be happy it's not long division.
It's a beautiful day.
Why don't we go outside? Oh, no.
l l-I think I'd rather stay here.
Rachel you have to go outside sometime.
I was supposed to work in my studio but it was such a nice day, I decided to go on the rooftop at city hall.
That's what happened the last time I went outside.
You were in the wrong place at the wrong time.
But that is not your fault.
You can't stop living your life because of it.
I hear he set off another bomb.
Yes, he did.
Thankfully, nobody else was hurt.
You know, when I had my eyes behind a camera I could see things no one else could see.
I could take a thousand shots and tell you which one was peryect before it was even developed.
I can remember details of nearly every picture I ever took.
That's ironic.
They tell me he was there that day.
That I must have seen the man who did this to me as he was setting his bomb.
But as hard I try, I can't remember.
I can't believe they think one of us is leaking information toJarod.
[Sighs.]
Oh, I wish I hadn't eaten that poppy seed muffin.
They're giving us a polygraph, you idiot not a urine test.
I thought it was both.
It should be, for you.
What-What is that supposed to mean? You're the one who handles the information around here.
I'm sorry.
I'm in a filthy mood.
Let's not accuse each other.
Oh, that means a lot coming from Jarod's teddy bear.
Miss Parker.
To calibrate the machine please answer the following question untruthfully.
- Are you Eleanor Roosevelt? - Yes.
Have you pursued Jarod to the best of your ability? - Yes.
- [Raines.]
Become her, Angelo.
Tell me if she is lying.
[Man.]
Did you willfully misfire your weapon when attempting to apprehend Jarod in Miami, Florida? - What? - Yes or no, please.
No.
Smoking is not permitted during a polygraph.
Have you received a personal message from Jarod? It was a bunny.
Yes.
Did you secretly contactJarod via a secure Internet connection? Yes.
Did you attempt to provide him with classified information? Yes, but with a view to bringing him home.
- Have you ever secretly met with Jarod? - Mm-mmm.
No.
Is he lying? Is he the one? Have you ever used a controlled substance? [Clears Throat.]
No.
Were you in the lab when information regarding Jarod's origins was leaked? Yes.
Did you leak the information Jarod received - via special courier in Miami, Florida? - No.
- Have you ever lied to the Centre? - No.
[Gasping.]
He's the leak, isn't he, Angelo? So, you've decided to put in a transfer to Forensics, hmm? I've just been sifting though all the Fax Bomber debris.
You went over three thousand pieces of evidence here? Three thousand and twenty-five.
- I've specifically been studying the wires.
- No, no, no.
The feds, they covered every centimeter of that copper.
I know.
I've been studying the encasements.
There's no pattern.
This guy is random except for the detonator connectors.
He's very sensitive about them.
He wants to be sure.
That's why they all have exactly the same parallel cut pattern.
Come on.
Exactly the same? Exactly.
Notice the angle of the grooves on the parallels.
Gives us something to run down with the knife manufacturers.
- And the cut contours confirm that he's - Right-handed.
Yes, sir.
Low-tech.
- Very.
- Mmm.
- Hello.
- Hey.
Hey.
How's the spud of a thousand faces? Well, I only have the 13-piece set so technically, this one's only got, uh One hundred and seventy-nine.
I have a project for you.
I'm up to my ears in milk cartons here.
Well, this one's very special to me.
It's my mother.
I was wondering if you could age her 30 years.
- I want to see what she would look like.
- [Pager Beeping.]
- I'll make it worth your while.
- Hey, I'll see what I can do.
- Thanks.
- All right.
[Siren Wailing.]
It's right over there under the bus.
It's right over there under the bus.
- Did the threat come in by fax? - It was more of a phone call.
One of my drivers found the unclaimed suitcase on the 3:15 from Traverse City.
- All right.
We'll take it from here.
- Thanks.
Hey, can you guys kinda hurry up? 'Cause I got buses backing up on me here, man, and l Take as much time as you need then.
Thanks.
- You okay? - Yeah.
Come on.
[Buzzing.]
[Horn Honks.]
Got a backache? [Switches Off.]
They told me we would have a lot ofhoax calls in training but I never thought it would feel like this.
- Let go,J.
- That's easy for you to say.
- It was pretty tense back there.
- Don't worry about it.
- That's nice work.
- Oh.
Yeah.
- From my army days.
- Let me guess.
- You got drunk one night.
- Blitzed.
[Chuckles.]
My whole unit.
After Grenada, they stationed us down at Fort Buchanan, Puerto Rico.
I do not remember one thing that happened that entire month except for this needle artist.
He was a shriveled-up little Puerto Rican guy who had a hole-in-the-wall shop in old San Juan.
- He inked every single guy in the whole platoon - The whole platoon.
You know how many eagles this guy had to do in one night? Give us a break, will you, Carlson? You partner with this guy too long, you know his old unit like it was your own family.
[Rachel.]
What are you doing? I'm going to turn this space into a darkroom.
- I live in a darkroom.
- Good.
Because I need you to develop a roll of film for me.
Oh, that smells familiar.
- I thought you'd remember it.
- Is this some kind of new therapy? Call it a simulation.
- Simulation? - Mm-hmm.
I'm going to create an environment with all the stimuli you need to recreate an event and for you to become someone.
Who do you want me to become? - Yourself.
- Oh! Oh, my camera.
Oh, I haven't touched this since the well, since the day at city hall.
Now I want you to develop that roll of film the pictures you took that day.
- Oh, but there's no film in it.
- I know.
I want you to develop the pictures in your mind.
I'm on the rooftop at city hall.
Natural light is at its- its peryect angle.
The building is is closed.
It's Sunday.
And I'm, uh, getting last-minute shots for my gallery opening.
[Jarod.]
Are you alone? I think.
l-I don't see anyone.
I don't I don't see anyone but I feel a a tingle on the back of my neck.
- [Footsteps.]
- I don't see anyone, but I hear something.
- What do you hear? - Footsteps, walking quickly away.
But, uh, you don't think anything about it because you have other pictures to take.
It's right before it happens.
We can stop this if you want.
No.
I walk over to where the footsteps are coming from but he's gone.
Rachel, do you see the bomb? It's only an instant before the flash.
- Do you see him? - No.
But I smell something.
- I smell - You smell him.
It must be, um I don't I don't know what it is.
It-It's cologne.
No, it-it's, um, medicine, menthol.
- What athletes put on sore muscles.
- Liquid heat.
Thank you.
- Are you Steven Johnson? - Yeah.
Special Agent Jarod Webster.
F.
B.
I.
? What did I do? Nothing, Mr.
Johnson.
I'm just doing a security check on one of your old army buddies, Daniel Carlson.
He put you down as a reference.
If you want to clear Carlson, you're talking to the wrong guy.
- Why's that? - Carlson talks a good game but the rest of the squad had to carry him every step of the way.
Well, the way he puts it, you were a very tight unit.
We'd probably have shot him ourselves if he hadn't caught the shrapnel in the shoulder.
He has the company tattoo on his forearm.
You don't see any moronic little birds on me, do you? Hell, Carlson come in one day all drunk queer little bird on his arm, talking about how he wanted the rest of us to get 'em.
Guy's a dangerous little wannabe.
Well, thank you very much for your time.
Hey, what's the little weasel applying for, anyway? - Bomb Squad.
- God help us all.
- [Siren Wailing.]
- [Jarod.]
You paged me? [Man.]
Oh, yeah, dude.
Sorry Santa was a little late but, uh, "Ho, ho, ho.
" She's still beautiful.
Now, um, you said you'd make it worth my while.
Patience, Mr.
Potato Head.
- Thank you.
- Okay.
Jarod, the Fax Bomber just blew himself up.
- Where's Carlson? - He phoned it in.
[Sirens Wailing.]
Let me through.
! Let me through.
! Let her through.
This is her house.
This is her son.
Let her through.
Are you hurt? I wasn't home last night.
I had a date.
Curtis? Curtis, Mama's here.
Ma's here, honey.
I had a feeling about this guy.
I came over here to see if I could get him to talk.
He must have seem me coming because the whole place went up.
- It knocked me all the way back to the end of the driveway.
- It was a nice play, Carlson.
- Get yourself cleaned up.
You look like hell.
- Thank you, sir.
I should have known it was him.
Another croissant, Miss Parker? Cold coffee's plenty.
He always seemed to be a step ahead and then suddenly, we were a step behind.
Broots has the classic nonconfrontational personality.
I doubt he would put himself in harm's way.
[Car Engine Starts.]
[Miss Parker.]
Where the hell is he going now? Private investigator? Could he have found Jarod? I don't know.
But somebody just put themselves in harm's way.
It doesn't make sense.
The same bomber, who was so intelligent he didn't leave as much as a speck of D.
N.
A.
behind, accidentally blows up his own mother's house? - Don't start with me, Nobel.
- And why would he keep all of his bomb-making equipment in a box in the garage when he had his own basement workshop? - Maybe he was feeling the heat and was planning to make a move.
- I don't think he's our man.
Why? Is he left-handed? As a matter of fact, he is.
The issue of guilt is up to a jury.
Our job collect evidence.
[Alarm Chirps.]
[Man.]
Now we have an exclusive with Officer Dan Carlson of the city Bomb Squad.
So, you defused his devices and brought him to justice.
How does it feel to be the man who uncovered the Fax Bomber? I'm just glad this nightmare for the city is finally coming to an end.
Not quite.
- Here.
- [Gun Cocks.]
What do you What is this? What are you doing? Sweepers? In my house? - [Crying.]
- That's all right.
That's okay.
It's all right.
He's in the middle of the custody battle.
The P.
I.
was trying to dig up something on the ex he could use in court.
- The plane ticket? - Time for little Susie to fly home to Mommy.
At least we've cleared him.
Cleared him? He lied to the Centre.
- He never said anything about being married.
- He wanted his privacy.
- None of that justifies what we did.
- You're damn right.
You're late.
Well, I spent all morning on the phone with a lawyer.
He dropped my case.
Hmm.
I'm sorry to hear that.
Mmm.
Are you, Miss Parker? Thanks to you, my daughter hasn't stopped crying since last night.
Tomorrow, I have to send her back to her mother, which is a place she doesn't want to go.
None of that has anything to do with the Centre.
I work here.
I sold my soul to be in this place.
I'm not selling her.
So don't mess with her.
And don't mess with me.
Hey, Lamont, what are you doing tonight? - Hey, Carlson.
- What? You'd better take a look at this.
What? Ugh.
This is some kind of hoax.
Now, we know the-the Fax Bomber is in a hospital bed.
Well, I guess he checked himself out.
Let's go.
- Main elevator banks.
- Right over there.
- Come on! - Maybe we should wait for backup.
And miss our chance to be heroes? Come on.
Whoa.
Another Bad Betty.
Oh, God.
Let's not rush into anything here.
Oh, look.
He left a note.
Careful.
Slow.
"This time it's real.
" Hmm.
See? - No! - [Bell Dings.]
Forget it, Carlson.
This is the express.
It won't stop for 60 floors.
Oh-oh.
Sixty floors if we're lucky.
- What are you talking about? - Barometric detonator.
Designed to detonate at altitudes 600 or 700 feet.
My guess is we're good for 45, 50 floors, tops.
- We gotta get out of here! - No, we've gotta defuse this bomb.
- No, there's no time! - Oh, there's plenty of time.
It should be easy for you.
It's just like all the other bombs you used to make.
- Huh? - You know the bombs you defused - so you could be a hero just like your big brother was? - Who the hell are you? Just your average, everyday miscreant.
And someone who doesn't think that Rachel Newton should have lost her eyesight so that you could be put in the limelight.
Now, listen to meJarod.
I did not expect anybody to get hurt.
Tell that to Curtis Haring.
He was the guy you tried to blow up so you could cover your tracks.
All right! That's enough! Now, come on! Defuse this thing! Not so cool under pressure when it's not your own bomb.
But you see, people that plant bombs, they're cowards at heart.
And since I planted this one, I don't want to stick around to watch it blow.
- [Bell Dings.]
- Uh-oh.
Twentieth floor.
Better get to work.
Hope you can figure out which wire to snip.
Bye-bye, hero.
No! Jarod! Jarod! [Beeping.]
[Thudding.]
I guess that's why they call it the express.
[Rapid Beeping.]
[Electronic Male Voice.]
Ten, nine, eight seven, six five, four three, two one.
Kaboom.
You're under arrest, Carlson.
[Curtis.]
that all of you at city hall will pay egregiously for what has happened to me.
- Are you sure you want to say that? - Say what? - "Egregiously"? - Who's writing this letter? - I was only making a suggestion.
- It's my letter! - All right, already.
What do you want from me? - Ma! - You don't even know what it means.
- Do too! - Well, I can spell it.
- Just write it! - E, G, R - Get my dictionary.
! - I'm not going in that smelly basement.
- Ohh! There's a fly on me.
- "Egregiously.
" - A fly on me! Aah! - [Knocking.]
- [Jarod.]
Morning, May.
- Where's Rachel? - There's something you should see.
Took her about a halfhour to get down there.
But she got there all by herself.
He's still searching, Mr.
Parker.
But we will find the leak.
I promise you that.
Did you find something, Angelo? Keep working.
Keep working.
[Keyboard Clacking.]
[Mews.]