JAG s01e14 Episode Script
Smoked
Gitmo approach, TOMCAT 194.
Do you read? Over.
Ninety four.
Gitmo control.
Over.
Gitmo.
94.
I've got a lightning strike.
My NS, GPS and my TACAN are out.
Could you give me a vector? Over.
Ninety four.
I have you 18 nautical miles northeast of Gitmo.
Take a heading of 230.
Over.
Ninety four, Gitmo.
Say again.
You're breaking up.
Over.
Fly two Zero Two, three, zero.
Ninety four.
Gitmo.
Ninety four.
Are you reading Gitmo? He probably lost his radio, too.
Keep trying.
Captain Boggs, sir.
That TOMCAT ferrying in from Pax River just suffered a lightning strike and lost all nav and radio communications.
- He's wandering into Cuba, sir.
- He's got company! Hey, TOMCAT, you are violating Cuban airspace.
Drop your landing gear and follow me, or we will engage.
Now, piloto.
A wise decision.
He's gone, sir.
It's open.
- Thank God.
No model airplanes.
- They're in the bedroom.
Are you anal or is there an epicurean reason for separating those eggs? It makes a fluffier omelette.
- A little trick your mother taught you? - A Marine colonel.
- Lf that's a joke, I don't get it.
- No joke, Commander.
Am I in uniform? - Not exactly.
- Then it's Allison.
I'm famished.
Is there enough for two? Not if you're famished.
What do you want, Commander? To warn you.
Ever hear of an Admiral Chegwidden? Yeah.
He heads JAG in the Pacific.
Starting Monday, he heads JAG, period.
He's our new CO.
And very ambitious.
He wants to be the next chief of Naval Operations.
It'll never happen.
Navy's not going to make a lawyer top dog.
- Why not? - CNOs are John Paul Jones types.
Crusty old sea dogs with 30 years of spray in their face.
Not lawyers.
But Chegwidden started as a SEAL in Vietnam.
Transferred to the fleet where he commanded a destroyer before getting a law degree and joining JAG.
He's broken every rule of advancement.
Gone from one branch of the Navy to the next and surfed the crest of them all.
The man's a genius at changing horses in midstream and jumping on the faster horse.
Sounds like he should be running for president.
- First things first.
- What's the warning, Commander? The Admiral has an aide who's a killer.
You're the rising young star in JAG and that's a threat to her ambitions.
Her ambitions? I'm the admiral's aide.
You have nothing to worry about, Commander.
- I'm not that good or ambitious.
- The hell you're not.
It's one of the reasons why I want to sleep with you.
Now, isn't this where the Navy expects me to say "yellow light," Commander? Only if you're feeling sexually aroused.
- I'm feeling something sexual.
- Good.
One more warning.
Whatever our private relationship, as long as you serve under me, you'll have a tough time earning a Sea Scout badge.
I wouldn't have it any other way, ma'am.
I know.
Now, do I get some breakfast or peddle to the nearest diner? At ease, Mr Rabb.
Your record here reads like a cross between Top Gun and A Few Good Men.
Sorry about that, sir.
I'm not.
The Navy needs heroes.
Now more than ever.
Pilloried in the press by a liberal media, underfunded by an election driven Congress and shooting ourselves in the foot every time a sailor gets horny.
Yes, sir.
Now, if I repeated those words to the press, the Secretary of the Navy would demand my resignation.
For while my words are as true as the blue ice in the Arctic, they're politically incorrect.
And today's Navy, Mr Rabb, sails on the sea of political correctness.
Yes, sir.
You know who that is, Commander? - Admiral Arleigh Burke.
- 31-Knot Burke.
Bull Halsey called him that after he charged destroyers full speed into a Japanese battle fleet in the dark.
Outgunned and outnumbered, he sent them running.
Turned the tide of the war of the Pacific.
Ten years later, President Eisenhower promoted him over 92 senior officers to become Chief of Naval Operations.
Why? Because he was aggressive, and that's what we're going to be.
While the rest of the Navy rides out this media storm in port, we're going to attack.
- The media, sir? - Since you have the hot hand in JAG, I'm going to give you the hot investigations.
I expect results and headlines.
Positive headlines.
- Can you handle that, Mr Rabb? - I'll do my best, sir.
If you can't, I'll drop you in my wake faster than my garbage.
- Understood, Admiral.
- Good.
- Commander Krennick.
- Sir.
At 2350 hours last night, a TOMCAT ferrying from Pax River to Guantánamo Bay lost communications after being hit by lightning.
It overflew Cuba, where it was forced down and captured intact.
It's a "D" model with our latest attack radar and ECM systems.
A computer expert can download that software in less than a day.
So we need a legal position to justify destroying the TOMCAT? We're not going to destroy the TOMCAT, Mr Rabb.
No SEAL strike team, no cruise missiles, no laser bombs.
We're going to talk it back.
The Cubans offered to open negotiations and State accepted.
By the time we shake hands, that software will be gone.
It's not our call.
But it doesn't mean we can't use our initiative, Mr Rabb.
Commander Krennick and some slug from State will handle the negotiations while you find out if that software is intact.
- And if it is, sir? - Destroy it, Mr Rabb.
- Will do, sir.
- Dismissed.
Aye, aye, sir.
Commander Krennick? Admiral? You're not carrying a grudge against Lieutenant Commander Rabb because he beat you in Naples, are you? Far from it, sir.
I think he's just the challenge I needed.
Five chips! All they have to do is download five chips and they'll have what makes the TOMCAT so lethal.
- The pilot? - Your wings are glinting, Commander.
I'm just pointing out that there's more to combat flying than computer systems.
I know that, sir.
But those five chips give the TOMCAT a big edge.
An edge that the Iranians will trade a lot of oil for.
That's right.
They've got F-14s we sold to the Shah.
They haven't been maintained, Commander.
They're a bigger threat to their pilots than anyone.
Not true.
The Iranians have hired Russian technicians to recondition them.
And 30 minutes ago, one of those techno-mercenaries, an avionics expert by the name of Alexi Barkov landed in Havana.
Why is Castro willing to negotiate with us if he's made a deal with the Iranians? They probably figure we'll never know Barkov downloaded the data.
Yeah.
Until we're up against Iranian F-14s as good as ours.
They'll never be as good as ours unless we're flying them.
The Russians are training their pilots, too, Commander.
And you believe that will make them as good as an American naval aviator? Your wings aren't just glinting, Commander.
Now they're positively ruffling.
Maybe I'd better flap them.
You're going to fly? This mission's on the Navy's nickel, sir.
Why let the Air Force jocks have all the fun? I'm surprised you brought him down here with you, Commander.
He doesn't strike me as the negotiating type.
He's a TOMCAT pilot and a lawyer.
A lethal combination in our negotiations.
To the Cubans or us? Where's the stick? It's built-in on Air Force pilots, Commander.
Havana Approach Control.
This is Diplomatic Flight Seven Zulu.
Diplomatic Flight Seven Zulu.
Havana Approach.
Seven Zulu requesting clearance to Los Baños.
Diplomatic Flight Seven Zulu.
I have no authorisation to clear you into Cuban airspace.
Havana Approach Control claims they know nothing about us and are denying landing clearance.
That's ridiculous.
The Swiss embassy faxed me our clearance this morning.
Here.
Signed by Fidel Castro.
Obviously someone didn't pass the word along.
All right.
We're going to have to put down until I straighten this thing out.
Sir? The Secretary says to land at the nearest field until he can straighten this out.
- We can't afford to lose the time.
- I know, sir.
I'll contact Miami Approach.
That's not the closest field, Lieutenant.
- Yes, sir.
It is.
- Los Baños is closer.
The Cubans just denied us clearance, Commander.
My bird, Lieutenant.
Seven Zulu.
Havana Approach Control.
You are entering Cuban airspace.
Turn back now.
Havana Approach.
Havana Approach.
Seven Zulu.
We have an emergency and request a straight-in approach to Los Baños.
Seven Zulu.
Havana Approach Sir, the Secretary wants to know why we're not turning back.
He told me to land at the nearest field.
It's in Cuba.
Harm, he'll have a heart attack! Seven Zulu.
I repeat.
What is the nature of your emergency? Havana.
Seven Zulu.
We have a medical emergency.
A passenger's going into cardiac arrest.
I'm out of here.
Seven Zulu.
Havana Approach.
Your emergency landing is denied.
Turn back now.
This is my last warning.
They will intercept us with MiGs.
- Is that a problem, Air Force? - No, sir.
I just want to remind the commander he's not flying a TOMCAT.
- We don't have any weapons.
- We'll have to outfly them.
Yes, sir.
He's going to get us all killed! They're not going to shoot down a diplomatic mission they know has clearance.
They don't know! Somebody screwed up! Of course, they know.
They're stalling to give Barkov as much time as possible to download those chips.
And what if you're wrong, Commander? They'll shoot us down.
Here they come.
- Looks like we're going to play chicken.
- How's this bird roll, Lieutenant? Roll, sir? We're gonna We're gonna die! You're not going to puke, are you? Los Baños tower.
This is Diplomatic Flight Seven Zulu.
On an emergency approach.
Say your winds and altimeter setting, please.
Seven Zulu, you cannot land here.
This is a military base! No problem, Los Baños.
We have a military escort.
Piloto de Seven Zulu.
Your military escort will shoot you down if you do not immediately climb to 5,000 feet.
We've got two of them.
One tight on our SIX, the other 1,000 feet high.
Los Baños.
Does this bird loop as good as she rolls? Gear down! Very nice, piloto.
Flaps! Close.
Sorry about that.
I forgot we don't have a tailhook.
We're here.
You told them I was having a heart attack? A medical emergency was the only legal way to land in Cuba, sir.
International law states that no ship or aircraft in an emergency can be turned away.
They took my blood pressure and they gave me a shot in the ass! - Probably an inoculation, sir.
- Don't get smart with me, Mr Rabb, or you'll be piloting a harbour tug in Guam! The important thing, Mr Secretary, is that we are in Cuba.
Thanks to your faking a medical emergency which is how I intend to write it up in my report.
What is it, Harm? A TOMCAT running at ground idle.
I thought I heard it earlier.
The wind must have shifted.
I didn't see a TOMCAT when we landed.
Of course, I didn't have much time to look around.
Yeah, it sounds contained.
It must be in a hangar at the other end of the field.
You think the Cubans are moving it because we're here? No, it's too risky.
They don't have any pilots checked out in TOMCATs.
Those turbines will over-temp if they keep running at ground idle.
Maybe they're trying to burn them out.
Then, even if we make a deal, the TOMCAT will sit here until we replace the engines.
No.
They're running them because they don't have a compatible APU.
Speak English.
An auxiliary power unit.
A generator to run the TOMCAT's electrical systems on the ground.
They're using the turbines to provide internal power.
To run our avionics.
- I never knew a Lear could fly like that.
- Neither did I, sir.
Lieutenant Commander Rabb was flying.
So you are the one who eluded me, Commander.
Well, I had the advantage of ignorance.
I wouldn't want to try it twice.
Please don't.
I can assure you next time, sir, it will be fatal.
Fuente.
At your service, señor.
Assistant Secretary of State Bair.
We had clearance to land, Capitán Fuente, and I don't understand why it was denied.
- Storms, Señor Secretary.
- Storms? The same ones that disabled your TOMCAT cut communications throughout Cuba.
We only received your clearance moments ago.
My apologies, señor.
But I have arranged for accommodations at my hacienda.
There you can freshen up, take a siesta and be my guest for dinner.
That is most gracious of you, Capitán.
But we prefer the bargaining table to the dining one.
- You are in charge? Commander - Krennick.
I'm to negotiate the return of United States Navy personnel and property, and I wish to begin as soon as possible.
- First I'd like to see the - Commander, forgive me, but you are in Cuba, not the United States.
Our pace is more civilised.
After dinner we shall discuss the personnel and property of the United States Navy which fate has fortuitously placed into our custody.
I insist upon seeing the pilot that you've detained in violation of international law.
You are in no position to insist on anything, Commander.
However, in deference to your maternal instincts, I will have your piloto join us for dinner.
- Maternal instincts? - I'll eat his liver.
Are you familiar with the tale of the tiger and the lady? No.
But you can whisper it in my ear after bed check.
That's an illegal cigar, Lieutenant.
I didn't buy it, sir.
We're here to negotiate.
If we start accepting gifts, it could compromise our position.
Now, as your senior officer it's my duty to confiscate it.
- Keep your grubby hands off my cigar.
- Come on, Meg.
You won't appreciate it.
Are you saying because you're male, you're going to appreciate it more than me? Not because I'm male.
Because I love cigars.
Well, you're not going to love this one, sir.
Los Baños produces many fine cigars here.
Even he smoked them.
- Castro? - Sï.
Your son was quite brave.
Yes.
There are many brave men here.
Brave and willing.
- Willing? - To do what? Anything you ask, señor.
- Cuban contra? - Or a secret police setting us up.
And what was this business? Doesn't anyone say Castro's name? Not in conversation.
No, you just stroke your chin instead.
Keeter! How you doing, Harm? You're the pilot? Afraid so, buddy.
Lieutenant JG Austin.
Lieutenant Commander Jack Keeter.
My roommate at the Academy and the second best naval aviator I know.
The CAG being the first, sir? I do like a bold female officer, Lieutenant.
Bold didn't have a damn thing to do with it, Meg.
I'll tell Commander Krennick you're here, sir.
- You can still pick them, buddy.
- She was assigned to me.
- Yeah, right.
- I thought you were a test pilot at Pax River.
I am.
The Navy wanted a TOMCAT at Gitmo, and I wanted to get out of the cold for a weekend.
I should have froze my SIX instead of screwing the pooch.
- Is that what you did? - You asking buddy or JAG? Me.
Why didn't you eject and let your TOMCAT auger in? You've punched out once.
Would you want to do that again? Well, not if I had a choice.
Well, I've ejected twice.
Last time I cracked some vertebrae.
It took me a year to get back on flight status.
I heard.
It's not like the bad guys don't have F-14s.
Hell, the Iranians got 80 of them.
Yeah, but not with state-of-the-art avionics.
- The lightning fried all of the software.
- I hope so, Keeter.
I wouldn't bilge you, Harm.
Here.
This is where the lightning struck.
It damaged the communication and navigation systems.
- So you can extract nothing of value? - No.
No.
Quite the contrary.
The attack radar is only slightly damaged and the electronic counter-measures are completely intact.
How long will it take you to copy the systems? The turbines must be shut down every hour for 30 minutes or they burn out.
By tomorrow night I will have downloaded everything and he will have enough Iranian oil to see Cuba through the next revolution.
"Soon we will have sufficient oil to fuel our homes and industries, "our tractors, our cars.
"To carry the revolution into the 21st century.
" Your Spanish is excellent, Lieutenant Austin.
I have the feeling, Capitán Fuente, that his speech is for our benefit.
You have broken our little code, Commander.
It's as obvious as the message he's sending us.
Message to you? He's speaking to the people of Cuba.
In any case, the United States Navy is very grateful to Cuba for granting safe haven to our aircraft in distress and wish to compensate you for your humanitarian act.
Well, you seem to be worth a great deal, Commander? - Or is it the TOMCAT? - Both are important to us, Capitán.
Important enough to lift your oil embargo? We had a financial reward in mind.
We have oil in mind.
A decision of that magnitude can only be made in Washington.
And would require more time than is allotted for this negotiation.
Well, we don't know that, Commander Krennick.
There is a secure phone in our Lear.
If I may be permitted to use it, I can put in your request immediately.
By all means, Señor Secretary.
Lieutenant Commander Austin, please stay.
As Commander Krennick has said this speech has bearing on our negotiations and you are the only delegate who understands our language.
I wouldn't flash a yellow.
I'd go straight to red around here.
I I assume the Commander was referring to a stoplight, and this stoplight has something to do with sexual advances.
And why would you think that? Well, a warning from a man to a woman left alone with another man usually does.
It's part of our Navy's sexual sensitivity training.
It's an inoffensive way to signal a male when his speech or behaviour is inappropriate.
The most powerful navy in the world actually teaches this kindergarten approach to sex? It works, sir.
Lieutenant.
Sometimes.
And are navy women permitted to signal green lights? I suppose so.
And what would I have to do to get a green light, Lieutenant Austin? Yellow light, Captain Fuente.
We're wasting valuable time, Commander.
- This deal's never going to fly.
- He's right, Mr Secretary.
The President isn't even close to re-establishing trade with Cuba.
But the importance of retrieving your TOMCAT may be the impetus necessary to change his mind.
Even if we get a yes from Washington, by the time we get it, if those chips are intact, Barkov will have downloaded them.
You have a better idea, Commander? - No, sir.
- I thought not.
You just lied to an assistant secretary of State.
- I don't trust him.
- So? - What's your idea? - Use the contra to get me to the airport.
And if he's secret police? Well, you'll have to rescue me from prison.
Or get thrown in the same cell with you.
Well, no sense in my going if you're staying behind.
You know what this reminds me of? Barcelona.
Summer cruise.
Our segundo year.
You and me strolled two muy bonita señoritas down a colonnade just like this.
Trying to ditch their aunts.
- Are we trying to ditch these aunts? - I got to take a look at your TOMCAT.
That software's fried, Harm.
There's nothing to worry about.
Then why did the Iranians have a Russian computer pro at the airport? How did you land a TOMCAT at night in weather without instruments? Hey, I'm a hell of a pilot, bud.
Not even God's that good, Keeter.
I had my instruments.
My avionics were out.
Circuit breakers could have popped.
Internal fuses blown.
So what are you saying? I screwed the pooch? Yeah.
I think you did, Keeter.
But what bothers me is it's not something you'd do unintentionally.
You need help, sï? The next time they cut the engines, I need two minutes in the hangar without being seen.
That fuel truck is easy to blow.
No.
What I do must look like an accident.
So must your diversion.
- Well, you ask the impossible.
- You said, "Anything I asked.
" I've got a big mouth.
You'll be amply rewarded.
I do not do this for money.
Nor for the United States.
I do this for un Cuba libre.
Iranian oil will only keep him in power.
My apologies, Raoul.
I will think of something.
We have to shut down again.
What's going on? Lieutenant Commander Rabb is missing.
Until he is found, you will all be confined in the casa.
- What's going on? - Where have you been? I was in my room.
Well, we searched your room.
You weren't there.
You're making this very difficult, Captain.
It is nothing compared to what will happen if you don't stop lying! Okay.
I wasn't in my room.
I was in Lieutenant Austin's room with her.
Evidently you give green lights to some officers, Lieutenant.
I want to see you both now! I apologise, Captain Fuente.
I hope this won't jeopardise our negotiations.
Your government is willing to lift the embargo? We're to have a decision by noon tomorrow.
Until then, Lieutenant Commander Keeter and the other piloto will be returned to the airfield under military custody.
The rest of you will be confined to the casa.
Anyone leaving will be shot.
You two weren't really in bed, were you? - Well - No, ma'am.
Well, where the hell were you? - At the airfield.
- Doing what? Watching Barkov, I assume it was Barkov, download data into a computer.
You see, I told you we were wasting time.
We? Don't blame this on me, Commander.
- State did not lose that TOMCAT.
- Hey, hey, relax.
The Iranians aren't going to get the software.
- I sabotaged the TOMCAT.
- You did what? Oh, God.
What's wrong, Mr Secretary? What's wrong? What's wrong is that we wanted the Iranians to get those chips! Do you have any idea the damage you have done, Commander Rabb? The damage he's done? You're the zip-lip that wouldn't let us in on the rules of the game.
- Insults are childish, Commander.
- But satisfying.
So the software in our TOMCAT is bogus? No.
Those five chips are very real.
Then why in God's name would you want the Iranians to copy them? They've built in a virus.
- What triggers it? - The attack radar.
If they paint any American aircraft or warship the virus activates and it melts their avionics back to the Stone Age.
That's brilliant.
It would have been if Lieutenant Commander Rabb hadn't have interfered.
You're not with State.
Who do you work for? It's none of your damn business.
Who do you work for? NSA! - Did you know about this? - No! - And the Admiral didn't either.
- Lieutenant Commander Keeter? He volunteered for a black op.
- He didn't know details until take-off.
- You faked the lightning strike? We shorted out the nav systems to make it look good.
We even electrically burned the fuselage.
And if that doesn't fool Barkov? Our computer has run this scenario hundreds of times.
The Barkov character never tumbled through our game.
How many times did your computer create a scenario where the Rabb character blew up the TOMCAT? How did you sabotage it? With a Navy issue 34-inch brass-tipped cinch.
- What the hell is that? - My belt.
I strapped it inside an engine intake.
Any turbine strong enough to suck in a man should tear loose a belt.
All right.
So it eats a belt? So what? So goodbye TOMCAT.
The buckle will shatter the impeller blades which will spin like shrapnel into the fuel tanks detonating them.
Like I said, "Goodbye, TOMCAT.
" We haven't heard an explosion.
They're still letting the turbines cool down.
- So you can still stop it! - You stop it, Agent Bair.
I'm going to smoke a cigar and watch the fireworks.
You saw Barkov downloading those chips.
- That's what I said.
- The virus is in the last chip.
That's your That's right, Commander.
That TOMCAT blows before Barkov downloads the last chip, he'll have our software but not the virus! Start it up! One more chip to go.
Captain Fuente? I'd like a word with you, sir.
May I? Please.
What I'm about to say could get me court-martialled and imprisoned as a traitor.
I lied to you about being with Lieutenant Austin in her bedroom.
I was at the airfield, sabotaging our TOMCAT.
The software system Alexi Barkov is downloading for the Iranians is phony.
Secretary Bair, who's with NSA, not State, was running the sting without the Navy's knowledge and, therefore, without my knowledge.
So, thinking that valuable software was going to fall into the hands of the Iranians I put a bomb in the TOMCAT.
Are you with me so far? I think so.
Then you see why it's in Cuba's interest to help me.
No.
The President will never lift the oil embargo in an election year, too many anti-Castro votes in Miami.
So Cuba's going to have to get the oil from Iran in exchange for the software in our TOMCAT.
Which is phony.
The Iranians don't know that and if you don't tell them, who will? Help me, Captain, and we both win.
Turn me in, Iran wins.
How would you disarm the bomb without Barkov knowing? The same way I put it there.
With a diversion.
I want you to blow the airfield fuel truck.
- Blow the fuel truck? - It gives me the diversion I need and the added illusion that I'm trying to destroy the TOMCAT to prevent the theft of the software.
Of course, I'll have to escape in the Lear jet with Lieutenant Commander Keeter to complete the charade.
You realise I will have to give chase.
I understand.
I see only one flaw, Commander Rabb.
What's that? This could all be an elaborate plan to put a bomb in your TOMCAT.
It could.
But it isn't.
I would like more than your word.
That's all I can give you, Captain Fuente.
The word of one naval aviator to another.
Oh, God! I don't believe it! He blew the damn thing up! Did he? What? What? What's going on? - Light them up! - You got it.
Seven Zulu.
Why are you starting your engines? Seven Zulu, you do not have clearance to taxi! Seven Zulu.
You do not have clearance to take off! What the hell are you doing, Harm? You're flying south! Florida's that way.
They'd catch us over the water before we were half way there.
We're heading south.
Twelve, thirteen minutes we'll be out of the Cuban airspace.
And 30 after that we'll be in The Cayman Islands! This may turn out to be a decent weekend after all.
Havana Control.
Los Baños Guardians.
We have a Lear jet fleeing to Florida.
Can you assist? Over.
I have no unidentified targets between you and la Florida.
Over.
Havana.
Los Baños.
He must be flying low in the mountains.
We'll pick him when he makes a run for it over the water.
Los Baños.
Out.
Havana.
Los Baños Guardians.
Do you have any targets south of Los Baños? Over.
Los Baños.
Havana.
We have an unidentified aircraft near the Isle of Pines.
Over.
- How could you forget her? - I didn't forget her.
I forgot her name.
Maria Elena Carmelita Moreno Gutierrez.
How the hell did you remember? My first tour on the Seahawk we took liberty in Barcelona.
You took out my girl? Your girl? You don't remember her name.
Hell, that's not the point.
You don't bilge your classmate by dating his segundo cruise girl.
Seven Zulu.
This is Los Baños Guardians.
Turn back at once or be shot down.
Four more minutes and we clear Cuban airspace.
- You think he's onto us? - Nah.
He's searching for us between Havana and Key West.
Lear jet.
Los Baños Guardians.
This is your last warning.
Turn north immediately.
North! Damn it, Harm! He said north! He's on our SIX! Lear jet, you have 10 seconds to comply.
Nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.
Hang on, Keeter! Help, Keeter! Help me pull her out! Come on, baby, pull out! - We just exited Cuban airspace.
- Los Baños Guardians.
Seven Zulu.
We've just exited Cuban airspace and are making contact with Grand Cayman Approach.
Thanks for the escort.
Seven Zulu.
Los Baños.
You're welcome.
And have a nice day! You're back.
Where's Meg? I dropped her off at her place and decided to come here.
I need a hot bath, a good breakfast and a long weekend in bed.
You up to it? There's a woman in your shower.
Commander, I'd like you to meet Maria Elena Carmelita Moreno Gutierrez.
Do you read? Over.
Ninety four.
Gitmo control.
Over.
Gitmo.
94.
I've got a lightning strike.
My NS, GPS and my TACAN are out.
Could you give me a vector? Over.
Ninety four.
I have you 18 nautical miles northeast of Gitmo.
Take a heading of 230.
Over.
Ninety four, Gitmo.
Say again.
You're breaking up.
Over.
Fly two Zero Two, three, zero.
Ninety four.
Gitmo.
Ninety four.
Are you reading Gitmo? He probably lost his radio, too.
Keep trying.
Captain Boggs, sir.
That TOMCAT ferrying in from Pax River just suffered a lightning strike and lost all nav and radio communications.
- He's wandering into Cuba, sir.
- He's got company! Hey, TOMCAT, you are violating Cuban airspace.
Drop your landing gear and follow me, or we will engage.
Now, piloto.
A wise decision.
He's gone, sir.
It's open.
- Thank God.
No model airplanes.
- They're in the bedroom.
Are you anal or is there an epicurean reason for separating those eggs? It makes a fluffier omelette.
- A little trick your mother taught you? - A Marine colonel.
- Lf that's a joke, I don't get it.
- No joke, Commander.
Am I in uniform? - Not exactly.
- Then it's Allison.
I'm famished.
Is there enough for two? Not if you're famished.
What do you want, Commander? To warn you.
Ever hear of an Admiral Chegwidden? Yeah.
He heads JAG in the Pacific.
Starting Monday, he heads JAG, period.
He's our new CO.
And very ambitious.
He wants to be the next chief of Naval Operations.
It'll never happen.
Navy's not going to make a lawyer top dog.
- Why not? - CNOs are John Paul Jones types.
Crusty old sea dogs with 30 years of spray in their face.
Not lawyers.
But Chegwidden started as a SEAL in Vietnam.
Transferred to the fleet where he commanded a destroyer before getting a law degree and joining JAG.
He's broken every rule of advancement.
Gone from one branch of the Navy to the next and surfed the crest of them all.
The man's a genius at changing horses in midstream and jumping on the faster horse.
Sounds like he should be running for president.
- First things first.
- What's the warning, Commander? The Admiral has an aide who's a killer.
You're the rising young star in JAG and that's a threat to her ambitions.
Her ambitions? I'm the admiral's aide.
You have nothing to worry about, Commander.
- I'm not that good or ambitious.
- The hell you're not.
It's one of the reasons why I want to sleep with you.
Now, isn't this where the Navy expects me to say "yellow light," Commander? Only if you're feeling sexually aroused.
- I'm feeling something sexual.
- Good.
One more warning.
Whatever our private relationship, as long as you serve under me, you'll have a tough time earning a Sea Scout badge.
I wouldn't have it any other way, ma'am.
I know.
Now, do I get some breakfast or peddle to the nearest diner? At ease, Mr Rabb.
Your record here reads like a cross between Top Gun and A Few Good Men.
Sorry about that, sir.
I'm not.
The Navy needs heroes.
Now more than ever.
Pilloried in the press by a liberal media, underfunded by an election driven Congress and shooting ourselves in the foot every time a sailor gets horny.
Yes, sir.
Now, if I repeated those words to the press, the Secretary of the Navy would demand my resignation.
For while my words are as true as the blue ice in the Arctic, they're politically incorrect.
And today's Navy, Mr Rabb, sails on the sea of political correctness.
Yes, sir.
You know who that is, Commander? - Admiral Arleigh Burke.
- 31-Knot Burke.
Bull Halsey called him that after he charged destroyers full speed into a Japanese battle fleet in the dark.
Outgunned and outnumbered, he sent them running.
Turned the tide of the war of the Pacific.
Ten years later, President Eisenhower promoted him over 92 senior officers to become Chief of Naval Operations.
Why? Because he was aggressive, and that's what we're going to be.
While the rest of the Navy rides out this media storm in port, we're going to attack.
- The media, sir? - Since you have the hot hand in JAG, I'm going to give you the hot investigations.
I expect results and headlines.
Positive headlines.
- Can you handle that, Mr Rabb? - I'll do my best, sir.
If you can't, I'll drop you in my wake faster than my garbage.
- Understood, Admiral.
- Good.
- Commander Krennick.
- Sir.
At 2350 hours last night, a TOMCAT ferrying from Pax River to Guantánamo Bay lost communications after being hit by lightning.
It overflew Cuba, where it was forced down and captured intact.
It's a "D" model with our latest attack radar and ECM systems.
A computer expert can download that software in less than a day.
So we need a legal position to justify destroying the TOMCAT? We're not going to destroy the TOMCAT, Mr Rabb.
No SEAL strike team, no cruise missiles, no laser bombs.
We're going to talk it back.
The Cubans offered to open negotiations and State accepted.
By the time we shake hands, that software will be gone.
It's not our call.
But it doesn't mean we can't use our initiative, Mr Rabb.
Commander Krennick and some slug from State will handle the negotiations while you find out if that software is intact.
- And if it is, sir? - Destroy it, Mr Rabb.
- Will do, sir.
- Dismissed.
Aye, aye, sir.
Commander Krennick? Admiral? You're not carrying a grudge against Lieutenant Commander Rabb because he beat you in Naples, are you? Far from it, sir.
I think he's just the challenge I needed.
Five chips! All they have to do is download five chips and they'll have what makes the TOMCAT so lethal.
- The pilot? - Your wings are glinting, Commander.
I'm just pointing out that there's more to combat flying than computer systems.
I know that, sir.
But those five chips give the TOMCAT a big edge.
An edge that the Iranians will trade a lot of oil for.
That's right.
They've got F-14s we sold to the Shah.
They haven't been maintained, Commander.
They're a bigger threat to their pilots than anyone.
Not true.
The Iranians have hired Russian technicians to recondition them.
And 30 minutes ago, one of those techno-mercenaries, an avionics expert by the name of Alexi Barkov landed in Havana.
Why is Castro willing to negotiate with us if he's made a deal with the Iranians? They probably figure we'll never know Barkov downloaded the data.
Yeah.
Until we're up against Iranian F-14s as good as ours.
They'll never be as good as ours unless we're flying them.
The Russians are training their pilots, too, Commander.
And you believe that will make them as good as an American naval aviator? Your wings aren't just glinting, Commander.
Now they're positively ruffling.
Maybe I'd better flap them.
You're going to fly? This mission's on the Navy's nickel, sir.
Why let the Air Force jocks have all the fun? I'm surprised you brought him down here with you, Commander.
He doesn't strike me as the negotiating type.
He's a TOMCAT pilot and a lawyer.
A lethal combination in our negotiations.
To the Cubans or us? Where's the stick? It's built-in on Air Force pilots, Commander.
Havana Approach Control.
This is Diplomatic Flight Seven Zulu.
Diplomatic Flight Seven Zulu.
Havana Approach.
Seven Zulu requesting clearance to Los Baños.
Diplomatic Flight Seven Zulu.
I have no authorisation to clear you into Cuban airspace.
Havana Approach Control claims they know nothing about us and are denying landing clearance.
That's ridiculous.
The Swiss embassy faxed me our clearance this morning.
Here.
Signed by Fidel Castro.
Obviously someone didn't pass the word along.
All right.
We're going to have to put down until I straighten this thing out.
Sir? The Secretary says to land at the nearest field until he can straighten this out.
- We can't afford to lose the time.
- I know, sir.
I'll contact Miami Approach.
That's not the closest field, Lieutenant.
- Yes, sir.
It is.
- Los Baños is closer.
The Cubans just denied us clearance, Commander.
My bird, Lieutenant.
Seven Zulu.
Havana Approach Control.
You are entering Cuban airspace.
Turn back now.
Havana Approach.
Havana Approach.
Seven Zulu.
We have an emergency and request a straight-in approach to Los Baños.
Seven Zulu.
Havana Approach Sir, the Secretary wants to know why we're not turning back.
He told me to land at the nearest field.
It's in Cuba.
Harm, he'll have a heart attack! Seven Zulu.
I repeat.
What is the nature of your emergency? Havana.
Seven Zulu.
We have a medical emergency.
A passenger's going into cardiac arrest.
I'm out of here.
Seven Zulu.
Havana Approach.
Your emergency landing is denied.
Turn back now.
This is my last warning.
They will intercept us with MiGs.
- Is that a problem, Air Force? - No, sir.
I just want to remind the commander he's not flying a TOMCAT.
- We don't have any weapons.
- We'll have to outfly them.
Yes, sir.
He's going to get us all killed! They're not going to shoot down a diplomatic mission they know has clearance.
They don't know! Somebody screwed up! Of course, they know.
They're stalling to give Barkov as much time as possible to download those chips.
And what if you're wrong, Commander? They'll shoot us down.
Here they come.
- Looks like we're going to play chicken.
- How's this bird roll, Lieutenant? Roll, sir? We're gonna We're gonna die! You're not going to puke, are you? Los Baños tower.
This is Diplomatic Flight Seven Zulu.
On an emergency approach.
Say your winds and altimeter setting, please.
Seven Zulu, you cannot land here.
This is a military base! No problem, Los Baños.
We have a military escort.
Piloto de Seven Zulu.
Your military escort will shoot you down if you do not immediately climb to 5,000 feet.
We've got two of them.
One tight on our SIX, the other 1,000 feet high.
Los Baños.
Does this bird loop as good as she rolls? Gear down! Very nice, piloto.
Flaps! Close.
Sorry about that.
I forgot we don't have a tailhook.
We're here.
You told them I was having a heart attack? A medical emergency was the only legal way to land in Cuba, sir.
International law states that no ship or aircraft in an emergency can be turned away.
They took my blood pressure and they gave me a shot in the ass! - Probably an inoculation, sir.
- Don't get smart with me, Mr Rabb, or you'll be piloting a harbour tug in Guam! The important thing, Mr Secretary, is that we are in Cuba.
Thanks to your faking a medical emergency which is how I intend to write it up in my report.
What is it, Harm? A TOMCAT running at ground idle.
I thought I heard it earlier.
The wind must have shifted.
I didn't see a TOMCAT when we landed.
Of course, I didn't have much time to look around.
Yeah, it sounds contained.
It must be in a hangar at the other end of the field.
You think the Cubans are moving it because we're here? No, it's too risky.
They don't have any pilots checked out in TOMCATs.
Those turbines will over-temp if they keep running at ground idle.
Maybe they're trying to burn them out.
Then, even if we make a deal, the TOMCAT will sit here until we replace the engines.
No.
They're running them because they don't have a compatible APU.
Speak English.
An auxiliary power unit.
A generator to run the TOMCAT's electrical systems on the ground.
They're using the turbines to provide internal power.
To run our avionics.
- I never knew a Lear could fly like that.
- Neither did I, sir.
Lieutenant Commander Rabb was flying.
So you are the one who eluded me, Commander.
Well, I had the advantage of ignorance.
I wouldn't want to try it twice.
Please don't.
I can assure you next time, sir, it will be fatal.
Fuente.
At your service, señor.
Assistant Secretary of State Bair.
We had clearance to land, Capitán Fuente, and I don't understand why it was denied.
- Storms, Señor Secretary.
- Storms? The same ones that disabled your TOMCAT cut communications throughout Cuba.
We only received your clearance moments ago.
My apologies, señor.
But I have arranged for accommodations at my hacienda.
There you can freshen up, take a siesta and be my guest for dinner.
That is most gracious of you, Capitán.
But we prefer the bargaining table to the dining one.
- You are in charge? Commander - Krennick.
I'm to negotiate the return of United States Navy personnel and property, and I wish to begin as soon as possible.
- First I'd like to see the - Commander, forgive me, but you are in Cuba, not the United States.
Our pace is more civilised.
After dinner we shall discuss the personnel and property of the United States Navy which fate has fortuitously placed into our custody.
I insist upon seeing the pilot that you've detained in violation of international law.
You are in no position to insist on anything, Commander.
However, in deference to your maternal instincts, I will have your piloto join us for dinner.
- Maternal instincts? - I'll eat his liver.
Are you familiar with the tale of the tiger and the lady? No.
But you can whisper it in my ear after bed check.
That's an illegal cigar, Lieutenant.
I didn't buy it, sir.
We're here to negotiate.
If we start accepting gifts, it could compromise our position.
Now, as your senior officer it's my duty to confiscate it.
- Keep your grubby hands off my cigar.
- Come on, Meg.
You won't appreciate it.
Are you saying because you're male, you're going to appreciate it more than me? Not because I'm male.
Because I love cigars.
Well, you're not going to love this one, sir.
Los Baños produces many fine cigars here.
Even he smoked them.
- Castro? - Sï.
Your son was quite brave.
Yes.
There are many brave men here.
Brave and willing.
- Willing? - To do what? Anything you ask, señor.
- Cuban contra? - Or a secret police setting us up.
And what was this business? Doesn't anyone say Castro's name? Not in conversation.
No, you just stroke your chin instead.
Keeter! How you doing, Harm? You're the pilot? Afraid so, buddy.
Lieutenant JG Austin.
Lieutenant Commander Jack Keeter.
My roommate at the Academy and the second best naval aviator I know.
The CAG being the first, sir? I do like a bold female officer, Lieutenant.
Bold didn't have a damn thing to do with it, Meg.
I'll tell Commander Krennick you're here, sir.
- You can still pick them, buddy.
- She was assigned to me.
- Yeah, right.
- I thought you were a test pilot at Pax River.
I am.
The Navy wanted a TOMCAT at Gitmo, and I wanted to get out of the cold for a weekend.
I should have froze my SIX instead of screwing the pooch.
- Is that what you did? - You asking buddy or JAG? Me.
Why didn't you eject and let your TOMCAT auger in? You've punched out once.
Would you want to do that again? Well, not if I had a choice.
Well, I've ejected twice.
Last time I cracked some vertebrae.
It took me a year to get back on flight status.
I heard.
It's not like the bad guys don't have F-14s.
Hell, the Iranians got 80 of them.
Yeah, but not with state-of-the-art avionics.
- The lightning fried all of the software.
- I hope so, Keeter.
I wouldn't bilge you, Harm.
Here.
This is where the lightning struck.
It damaged the communication and navigation systems.
- So you can extract nothing of value? - No.
No.
Quite the contrary.
The attack radar is only slightly damaged and the electronic counter-measures are completely intact.
How long will it take you to copy the systems? The turbines must be shut down every hour for 30 minutes or they burn out.
By tomorrow night I will have downloaded everything and he will have enough Iranian oil to see Cuba through the next revolution.
"Soon we will have sufficient oil to fuel our homes and industries, "our tractors, our cars.
"To carry the revolution into the 21st century.
" Your Spanish is excellent, Lieutenant Austin.
I have the feeling, Capitán Fuente, that his speech is for our benefit.
You have broken our little code, Commander.
It's as obvious as the message he's sending us.
Message to you? He's speaking to the people of Cuba.
In any case, the United States Navy is very grateful to Cuba for granting safe haven to our aircraft in distress and wish to compensate you for your humanitarian act.
Well, you seem to be worth a great deal, Commander? - Or is it the TOMCAT? - Both are important to us, Capitán.
Important enough to lift your oil embargo? We had a financial reward in mind.
We have oil in mind.
A decision of that magnitude can only be made in Washington.
And would require more time than is allotted for this negotiation.
Well, we don't know that, Commander Krennick.
There is a secure phone in our Lear.
If I may be permitted to use it, I can put in your request immediately.
By all means, Señor Secretary.
Lieutenant Commander Austin, please stay.
As Commander Krennick has said this speech has bearing on our negotiations and you are the only delegate who understands our language.
I wouldn't flash a yellow.
I'd go straight to red around here.
I I assume the Commander was referring to a stoplight, and this stoplight has something to do with sexual advances.
And why would you think that? Well, a warning from a man to a woman left alone with another man usually does.
It's part of our Navy's sexual sensitivity training.
It's an inoffensive way to signal a male when his speech or behaviour is inappropriate.
The most powerful navy in the world actually teaches this kindergarten approach to sex? It works, sir.
Lieutenant.
Sometimes.
And are navy women permitted to signal green lights? I suppose so.
And what would I have to do to get a green light, Lieutenant Austin? Yellow light, Captain Fuente.
We're wasting valuable time, Commander.
- This deal's never going to fly.
- He's right, Mr Secretary.
The President isn't even close to re-establishing trade with Cuba.
But the importance of retrieving your TOMCAT may be the impetus necessary to change his mind.
Even if we get a yes from Washington, by the time we get it, if those chips are intact, Barkov will have downloaded them.
You have a better idea, Commander? - No, sir.
- I thought not.
You just lied to an assistant secretary of State.
- I don't trust him.
- So? - What's your idea? - Use the contra to get me to the airport.
And if he's secret police? Well, you'll have to rescue me from prison.
Or get thrown in the same cell with you.
Well, no sense in my going if you're staying behind.
You know what this reminds me of? Barcelona.
Summer cruise.
Our segundo year.
You and me strolled two muy bonita señoritas down a colonnade just like this.
Trying to ditch their aunts.
- Are we trying to ditch these aunts? - I got to take a look at your TOMCAT.
That software's fried, Harm.
There's nothing to worry about.
Then why did the Iranians have a Russian computer pro at the airport? How did you land a TOMCAT at night in weather without instruments? Hey, I'm a hell of a pilot, bud.
Not even God's that good, Keeter.
I had my instruments.
My avionics were out.
Circuit breakers could have popped.
Internal fuses blown.
So what are you saying? I screwed the pooch? Yeah.
I think you did, Keeter.
But what bothers me is it's not something you'd do unintentionally.
You need help, sï? The next time they cut the engines, I need two minutes in the hangar without being seen.
That fuel truck is easy to blow.
No.
What I do must look like an accident.
So must your diversion.
- Well, you ask the impossible.
- You said, "Anything I asked.
" I've got a big mouth.
You'll be amply rewarded.
I do not do this for money.
Nor for the United States.
I do this for un Cuba libre.
Iranian oil will only keep him in power.
My apologies, Raoul.
I will think of something.
We have to shut down again.
What's going on? Lieutenant Commander Rabb is missing.
Until he is found, you will all be confined in the casa.
- What's going on? - Where have you been? I was in my room.
Well, we searched your room.
You weren't there.
You're making this very difficult, Captain.
It is nothing compared to what will happen if you don't stop lying! Okay.
I wasn't in my room.
I was in Lieutenant Austin's room with her.
Evidently you give green lights to some officers, Lieutenant.
I want to see you both now! I apologise, Captain Fuente.
I hope this won't jeopardise our negotiations.
Your government is willing to lift the embargo? We're to have a decision by noon tomorrow.
Until then, Lieutenant Commander Keeter and the other piloto will be returned to the airfield under military custody.
The rest of you will be confined to the casa.
Anyone leaving will be shot.
You two weren't really in bed, were you? - Well - No, ma'am.
Well, where the hell were you? - At the airfield.
- Doing what? Watching Barkov, I assume it was Barkov, download data into a computer.
You see, I told you we were wasting time.
We? Don't blame this on me, Commander.
- State did not lose that TOMCAT.
- Hey, hey, relax.
The Iranians aren't going to get the software.
- I sabotaged the TOMCAT.
- You did what? Oh, God.
What's wrong, Mr Secretary? What's wrong? What's wrong is that we wanted the Iranians to get those chips! Do you have any idea the damage you have done, Commander Rabb? The damage he's done? You're the zip-lip that wouldn't let us in on the rules of the game.
- Insults are childish, Commander.
- But satisfying.
So the software in our TOMCAT is bogus? No.
Those five chips are very real.
Then why in God's name would you want the Iranians to copy them? They've built in a virus.
- What triggers it? - The attack radar.
If they paint any American aircraft or warship the virus activates and it melts their avionics back to the Stone Age.
That's brilliant.
It would have been if Lieutenant Commander Rabb hadn't have interfered.
You're not with State.
Who do you work for? It's none of your damn business.
Who do you work for? NSA! - Did you know about this? - No! - And the Admiral didn't either.
- Lieutenant Commander Keeter? He volunteered for a black op.
- He didn't know details until take-off.
- You faked the lightning strike? We shorted out the nav systems to make it look good.
We even electrically burned the fuselage.
And if that doesn't fool Barkov? Our computer has run this scenario hundreds of times.
The Barkov character never tumbled through our game.
How many times did your computer create a scenario where the Rabb character blew up the TOMCAT? How did you sabotage it? With a Navy issue 34-inch brass-tipped cinch.
- What the hell is that? - My belt.
I strapped it inside an engine intake.
Any turbine strong enough to suck in a man should tear loose a belt.
All right.
So it eats a belt? So what? So goodbye TOMCAT.
The buckle will shatter the impeller blades which will spin like shrapnel into the fuel tanks detonating them.
Like I said, "Goodbye, TOMCAT.
" We haven't heard an explosion.
They're still letting the turbines cool down.
- So you can still stop it! - You stop it, Agent Bair.
I'm going to smoke a cigar and watch the fireworks.
You saw Barkov downloading those chips.
- That's what I said.
- The virus is in the last chip.
That's your That's right, Commander.
That TOMCAT blows before Barkov downloads the last chip, he'll have our software but not the virus! Start it up! One more chip to go.
Captain Fuente? I'd like a word with you, sir.
May I? Please.
What I'm about to say could get me court-martialled and imprisoned as a traitor.
I lied to you about being with Lieutenant Austin in her bedroom.
I was at the airfield, sabotaging our TOMCAT.
The software system Alexi Barkov is downloading for the Iranians is phony.
Secretary Bair, who's with NSA, not State, was running the sting without the Navy's knowledge and, therefore, without my knowledge.
So, thinking that valuable software was going to fall into the hands of the Iranians I put a bomb in the TOMCAT.
Are you with me so far? I think so.
Then you see why it's in Cuba's interest to help me.
No.
The President will never lift the oil embargo in an election year, too many anti-Castro votes in Miami.
So Cuba's going to have to get the oil from Iran in exchange for the software in our TOMCAT.
Which is phony.
The Iranians don't know that and if you don't tell them, who will? Help me, Captain, and we both win.
Turn me in, Iran wins.
How would you disarm the bomb without Barkov knowing? The same way I put it there.
With a diversion.
I want you to blow the airfield fuel truck.
- Blow the fuel truck? - It gives me the diversion I need and the added illusion that I'm trying to destroy the TOMCAT to prevent the theft of the software.
Of course, I'll have to escape in the Lear jet with Lieutenant Commander Keeter to complete the charade.
You realise I will have to give chase.
I understand.
I see only one flaw, Commander Rabb.
What's that? This could all be an elaborate plan to put a bomb in your TOMCAT.
It could.
But it isn't.
I would like more than your word.
That's all I can give you, Captain Fuente.
The word of one naval aviator to another.
Oh, God! I don't believe it! He blew the damn thing up! Did he? What? What? What's going on? - Light them up! - You got it.
Seven Zulu.
Why are you starting your engines? Seven Zulu, you do not have clearance to taxi! Seven Zulu.
You do not have clearance to take off! What the hell are you doing, Harm? You're flying south! Florida's that way.
They'd catch us over the water before we were half way there.
We're heading south.
Twelve, thirteen minutes we'll be out of the Cuban airspace.
And 30 after that we'll be in The Cayman Islands! This may turn out to be a decent weekend after all.
Havana Control.
Los Baños Guardians.
We have a Lear jet fleeing to Florida.
Can you assist? Over.
I have no unidentified targets between you and la Florida.
Over.
Havana.
Los Baños.
He must be flying low in the mountains.
We'll pick him when he makes a run for it over the water.
Los Baños.
Out.
Havana.
Los Baños Guardians.
Do you have any targets south of Los Baños? Over.
Los Baños.
Havana.
We have an unidentified aircraft near the Isle of Pines.
Over.
- How could you forget her? - I didn't forget her.
I forgot her name.
Maria Elena Carmelita Moreno Gutierrez.
How the hell did you remember? My first tour on the Seahawk we took liberty in Barcelona.
You took out my girl? Your girl? You don't remember her name.
Hell, that's not the point.
You don't bilge your classmate by dating his segundo cruise girl.
Seven Zulu.
This is Los Baños Guardians.
Turn back at once or be shot down.
Four more minutes and we clear Cuban airspace.
- You think he's onto us? - Nah.
He's searching for us between Havana and Key West.
Lear jet.
Los Baños Guardians.
This is your last warning.
Turn north immediately.
North! Damn it, Harm! He said north! He's on our SIX! Lear jet, you have 10 seconds to comply.
Nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.
Hang on, Keeter! Help, Keeter! Help me pull her out! Come on, baby, pull out! - We just exited Cuban airspace.
- Los Baños Guardians.
Seven Zulu.
We've just exited Cuban airspace and are making contact with Grand Cayman Approach.
Thanks for the escort.
Seven Zulu.
Los Baños.
You're welcome.
And have a nice day! You're back.
Where's Meg? I dropped her off at her place and decided to come here.
I need a hot bath, a good breakfast and a long weekend in bed.
You up to it? There's a woman in your shower.
Commander, I'd like you to meet Maria Elena Carmelita Moreno Gutierrez.