I'll recap it as best I can. Weiss says he's had a promotion to a post in D.C. Syd's all, wait, in D.C.? That means you'll no longer be around? Weiss is all, yeah, pretty much. And I know I was one of the last remaining original cast members, but Terry O'Quinn's on another show and Vartan's off entertaining offers from NBC and Jaybrams said he'd stick me into Mission: Impossible 3 as long as I promised him I wouldn't turn all Scientologist on his ass, so, like, I gots to go! Syd pretends to be really happy for him, but Weiss can tell that she's upset about it, and he's on the verge of turning the promotion down, but Syd convinces him that he has to take it. "You can't say no to that," says Syd. Weiss looks at her sweetly and then the radar on the computer screen goes off and they've located DMG.
Weiss calls in Dix, and Dix asks where DMG is. Syd can't tell. "It's not pinpointing," she says. Dix gets a look on his face. "That's because he's not on the ground." Uh-oh. Before we can find out what that means, we head off to meet the newest recruit to the Jaybrams stable, Rachel Nichols. She's sitting at a table with a bunch of guys, arguing about eggs balancing on tables or some such shit. Rachel's phone rings and before her impressive boobs can answer it, she lets her hands pick it up. I shit you not, her boobs are fully in frame for about ten seconds before she reaches for her phone. I can see what kind of role she'll be filling this season: Random Boob Shot Girl.
So, whatever, Rachel picks up the phone and it's DMG. While Rachel's boobs try to pull focus, she listens to DMG tell her to let Gordo know "they're" on their way. "We've got the device on board," says DMG, "but I'm going to need the analyst team to meet me at the airport." "Of course," say Rachel's boobs. We head to the plane that DMG's on and he tells her that they're two hundred miles out and right on schedule. He hangs up and consults his laptop. We switch to a shot of something in the back of the plane, but after several viewings, I still can't make out what in the hell it is. I blame Jaybrams. And hash. And virgin ale. And Scotland. EWAN! Where in the HELL are my cigarettes?