Now that Palmer's alone, the phone beeps in with the news that Keeler's there to see him. Palmer says to have Keeler allowed in. Does anybody want to test Keeler for the virus first? Oh, I forgot. It's been contained. I hope Aaron's off getting some much-needed rest. It's 10:17:45. Keeler gets led into the conference room, and they exchange somewhat chilly greetings. Palmer allows himself a small smile as he asks Keeler if he's withdrawing from the race. Keep it up, laughing man. Keeler gets right to it: "With respect to the death of Alan Milliken, I know you lied to the police." Palmer stops smiling. He says, "That's a baseless charge, John. Though I've come to expect this kind of recklessness from you." He tries another smile, but it's clear from his posture that the umbrella that's been up his ass the past three seasons has just been opened. Keeler insists that he has both base and reck, in the form of a photograph of Milliken's pill bottle, which he shows Palmer. It's proof, he says, that Sherry was not with Palmer at the time of Milliken's death, as Palmer claimed to the police, and that Lady Mac withheld medication that would have saved Milliken's life. What do we have to withhold from this storyline to cause its death? I'm just asking. Keeler continues, "The last thing this country needs is to have its president dragged through the mud for complicity in a murder." Palmer doesn't say, "I completely agree. Thanks for stopping by." Idiot. Instead, he asks Keeler what he wants, and Keeler says he wants Palmer's resignation, for whatever face-saving reason Palmer cares to give, after he's finished dealing with whatever the current crisis is. Keeler doesn't seem to have noticed the huge-ass map of Los Angeles with the big red circles on it, for what that's worth. Palmer, rather than telling Keeler he should have things wrapped up around the Wednesday after the first Monday in November, simply tells him to get out. Keeler tells Palmer he's giving him a chance to leave office with honor and preserve his legacy. Palmer just stares at him stone-faced until he walks out. I don't know why Palmer doesn't make Keeler a counter-offer: they can both go public with their knowledge of each other's complicity and return the election to a level playing field. Because make no mistake: Keeler's an accessory after the fact now too, and a blackmailer on top of it. No, wait, I do know why Palmer doesn't say that. It's because he's a fucking moron. It's 10:20:08.
Near a pay phone in the gritty back alley that is Vine Street, the Patchmobile pulls up to the curb. They're a minute or so late, I'm thinking. From the back seat, Kiefer directs Soul Patch to reject the first location Saunders picks for the exchange so he'll make a second choice and give Special Agent Charlie Brown time to get his team in place. Soul Patch is unsure, but Kiefer reminds him he should use the leverage that Spawnders represents. Meanwhile, the leverage herself is still sitting in the shotgun seat, looking completely blank. I wish they'd either keep her out of the shot or give her something to do, because her near-constant passivity is getting on my nerves. Soul Patch gets out, walks to the phone, and attaches a device to the handset. Back in the Patchmobile, Spawnders asks Kiefer if they're using her as bait to get to her father. I thought she'd figured that out already. Kiefer comes right out and tells her that they'll do whatever it takes to stop Saunders from releasing the virus. Spawnders absorbs this as though he just told her the atomic weight of cesium. To be fair, though, she hasn't seen the previews for next week. Then Kiefer GETS OUT OF THE CAR AND LEAVES HER ALONE IN IT. What the hell? First of all, did the need for "full protection" and "top security" on Spawnders expire when I wasn't looking? And secondly, you're going to drop a bomb like that on her, turn your back, and expect her not to bolt? He must think there's nobody in there. Where could he have gotten that idea?