Toronto! I can tell by the CN Tower on the skyline, even without a subtitle. Pete enters a police station, identifies himself as U.S. Secret Service, and says he has a "priority item" for the crime lab. The desk officer directs him to the eighth floor without even looking into the brown paper lunch bag that Pete's placed on the counter, but he does ask him to sign the log. Pete manages to do so without looking up at the security camera behind the counter. You can tell he wants to, though.
Up in the fingerprint lab, Pete hands over the cup he stole from the conspirators' apartment and asks the lab tech to pull prints from it. The tech sticks it under the fume hood and says it'll be about twelve minutes. They're much faster on CSI.
The summit is taking place at Toronto City Hall, a pair of towers that look like parentheses from above. Officers are sweeping the entire area -- they're staked out on rooftops, checking the inner edges of reflecting pools with mirrors, and generally doing everything they can to make killing the President look like way more trouble than it's worth. No wonder the Secret Service cooperated with the production.
Pete's alone in the fingerprint lab when the timer goes off. He gloves up and pulls the cup out of the hood his own damn self, with its prints highlighted in magic dust. He even knows how to transfer the prints to film, which he slides into an envelope.
Pete gets on his cell phone and calls Jill -- who's also in Toronto and is busy blowing off a date request from another agent -- and asks if they found any fingerprints at the bad guys' apartment. "Well, I did," he says. He asks her how long it'll take for her to check fingerprints after he emails them to her. "Five minutes after I receive them," she answers, sitting down to a computer. Hey, who's the trainee here, anyway? He says he'll call her back, then enters another room full of lab techs, asking the room in general who can run a print for him. A guy who doesn't have anything else to do takes the film from Pete and puts it on a scanner, and the whorls and ridges are on their way.
Pete's still hanging out in the lab, waiting to hear back, when a familiar (to me, at least) voice behind him says, "You know, in my experience, a guilty man doesn't break into a police station and check fingerprints for a few hours. What do you think?" Pete turns to Kiefer and carps, "My phone was only on for five minutes." "I was in the neighborhood," Kiefer says. Pete starts to say he can explain everything but the bank account, and Kiefer says he knows about the affair with the First Lady. "I know you're being framed. She showed me the blackmail photos." Pete sighs with relief, and asks what's next. "We need to find this guy," Kiefer responds, and they head out together. So I guess Kiefer's decided Pete's in the clear now, except for the whole First-Lady-fucking thing. "You really are an idiot," Kiefer says. "You honestly thought this wouldn't be uncovered?" Pete says he loves her. "Well, that's practical," Kiefer snarks.
Jill calls Pete back and tells him that the prints belong to a guy from Kyrgyzstan, who used to work personal security for that nation's president and was also behind a recent pipeline attack in Central Asia. Those damn Centralasians again! Meanwhile, at the Toronto crime lab, Kiefer's on one of the computers, confirming that "these people have the financial and intelligence resources to pull this off." So that's settled, then. On their way out, they decide they also need to find the mole inside the Secret Service. Which is going to be tricky, considering that Pete was the only one on the list who failed the test. "Montrose had the list," Pete remembers. Uh-oh.