Mama Hari's Den Of Delights. Syd tells her mom that they found Quicksand. Irina's all, yeah, and how's this MY problem? I told your daddy the terms. Full access, honey. No less. Syd's all, Dad fought for you on this, okay? Try not to make him think you're as big of a bitch as we all know you are.
Seconds later, Irina's led upstairs, surrounded by several marshals. Most of the CIA agents fall over themselves in order to get out of her way. Because, you know, even shackled and surrounded by a bunch of guys with guns, that Irina could still do some serious damage. She's taken over to Rick's desk. Rick looks like he just peed himself, just a little, and vacates his seat. Irina holds out her hands, obviously waiting for someone to unlock her hands, which one of the marshals does. Although, really, that's totally not necessary. My hands are practically shackled together while I type this, dudes. She's such a prima donna. Spy Mommy takes her seat at the desk and announces that she'll need to send an access code. Kendall's all, okay, but, like, how will we know you're not signaling your operation? Huh? Answer me that! Irina's all, you won't. And Syd? Give your Uncle Kendall a global thermonuclear wedgie while we're waiting for him to give me permission to do this thing. Kendall looks at Jack as if to warn him that if Irina goes apeshit, it's Jack's fault. Jack just nods at Sydney as if to say, go ahead, honey -- rip Uncle Kendall's boxers clear up his crack. Daddy says it's okay. Finally, Kendall wises up and snaps at Irina to go ahead and send the damn code. Irina starts clackety-clacking away.
After the break, we're hanging at SD-6 with Face Doneaway and one of her plush boy toys. She's leaning over him while he looks at a computer, careful not to allow the drool to drip out of her eternally gaping maw. They're watching the footage of Jack walking through the hotel lobby. Boy Toy's all, looks good to me. I mean, sure, it's been doctored but, like, anything looks normal compared to your witch hazel face. Face Doneaway just barks at him to slow it down two hundred percent. He does it, and tells her that it still looks good and that if it's faked, it's the best damn job he's ever seen. Speaking of "jobs," it looks like Face Doneaway could do with another one in order to return her face to an expression other than Permanent Snarl. She asks Boy Toy if this tape is the last of the surveillance feeds. He informs her that it is. Just then, another boy toy approaches and hands Face Doneaway a piece of paper. "I think you should see this," he says, scampering away before the poltergeist in the closet sucks him in. Face Doneaway attempts to make some sort of expression at the piece of paper but, for now, she's just going to have to stick with Permanent Snarl.