Rebecca and Hauser stop by the spa long enough to theorize that McKee is "stepping up his game," then head off to meet Doc. Then we see McKee in some lab somewhere, fiddling with a gas canister. He feeds some of the gas into a cage. Inside, a mouse sniffs and squeaks. Man, killing a bunch of jerks in a club is one thing, but what did that mouse ever do to you?

1960. Lucy talks to McKee in the infirmary while Warden James watches on. "Poisoning is a very personal crime," Lucy says. Is it? It seems kind of distanced to me. Lucy wants to know why most of McKee's victims have been men. He avoids answering. "Do you dream about your killings, Mr. McKee?" she asks. "I don't dream, Dr. Sengupta," he says. "Ding-ding-ding, time is up," Warden James says. Is he tired of listening to McKee or trying to keep him from saying more about the dream thing?

The A-Team heads into a Chinese herb shop. The proprietor recognizes McKee's mugshot and starts speaking to them in Chinese. (Mandarin? Cantonese? I'm half Chinese and I have no idea.) Oddly enough, it's not the dim sum-loving Rebecca who understands him, but Hauser. He gives them an address where the nightshade was delivered to McKee. He also gives Hauser a parcel of herbs for his "murky chi." Heh. Can this guy join the team?

The address points them to an abandoned high school. Inside is McKee's lab. And the poor, dead mouse. They notice a faint which of fresh-cut grass. Doc takes a look at McKee's blackboard full of notes, googles something and realizes McKee has made phosgene. "In low concentrations, its odor resembles hay or grass," he reads. He also reads a list of horrible things it does. This is the point at which I, having smelled that grassy smell, would have run from the room while breathing into my shirt. Everyone just kind of stands around, continuing to breathe in low concentrations of poison. It's apparently what he used in the pool. Also on the blackboard: "The future is now." Doc just happens to have that Jules Verne article with him. It's about an underwater subway that leads San Francisco to Oakland.

Sure enough, McKee is on a train somewhere along the Transbay Tube. The car is full of men in blue and yellow vests and baseball caps. Sports thing? I have no idea. He quietly takes out the engineer with a poison-soaked rag to the face.