Over in the van, Vaughn looks like he's about to vomit. He looks over at Hot Agent Craig as Face continues, "We found brain matter in the gun you fired on the day Emily was murdered. I admit, I thought DNA tests would prove that you killed her but instead they proved you killed Haladki." Back at the table, Jack's all, yeah, whatever -- he was a weasel and he worked for Irina. Believe me. If you'd met him, YOU would have nailed his ass too. Can we move on now?
Vaughn's still sitting there with his thumb up his ass, totally stunned that a warm-hearted and loving individual like Jack would do anything as heinous as killing a sniveling little shit like Haladki. Hot Agent Craig snaps him out of his reverie by announcing that they can't wait for Bristow's phone and that he needs Vaughn's. Vaughn dumbly hands his phone over as Hot Agent Craig says that the card's been reprogrammed and he'll stamp Jack's serial number on the SIM card. Then he hands all the shit to Vaughn and yells at him that he'll have to make the phone switch himself.
At the same time, Face is still working Jack over about Haladki. In the background, we see Vaughn pass off the phone to the waiter. Jack says something about how the death of a CIA agent draws unwanted attention and focus and how, when it happens, the safest recourse is to say nothing. Oh, wait, toss another livestock animal on the fire, dudes! There's another ham-handed phone switch going on over here!
The phone exchange made, Jack asks Face if they're through. Face is all, yeah, sure. Just as soon as you stop pretending to check out the menu and hand over the SIM card. Jack pulls out his phone, removes the card, and hands it over. Face makes one final attempt at a different facial expression; when it fails, she just tells Jack she'll be in touch. Jack gets up and walks away, casually glancing at his hand as he does. There's a blotch of blue ink on his finger. D'oh! Guess the CIA can't afford permanent ink stamps, huh? Hell, I'm surprised they even HAD a stamp ready, willing, and able. It's not like a request for a SIM card is, like, COMMON or anything.
Anyway, Jack knows his goose is cooked and starts beating tracks outta there. At the same time, Face looks down at the SIM card and sees that it's smudged. She runs her finger over it and it smears. She grimaces, her face nearly cracking from the strain of movement, and snaps into her lapel, "Move in on the package!"