In his free helicopter, Vaughn kvetches at the pilot to go faster. The pilot does not call Vaughn even one bad word.
Agent Notinkoff's phone rings. Sydney is still at the PRF base, but she's found her way into a sunny office and is talking on a satellite phone. She asks for Vaughn; Notinkoff says he isn't available, but hands her over to Kendall. Sydney clenches her jaw. Jack noodles at the computer, flicking from one security camera to the next until he finds the lab where Cuvee is waiting for the activation of the nukes; Irina is there with him. Kendall comes on the line and asks whether Sydney has "the package." Whoops, I think he has her confused with the OTHER Agent Bristow! Ba-dump-bump! (Sorry.) Sydney says they're in the process, and will need extraction within the hour. Kendall tells her to abort the mission, explaining about the air strikes. "Air strikes?" Sydney gasps. Jack snaps to attention. "We're not finished! You have to get them to hold off!" Kendall tells her that the planes are already in the sky, and that they have to leave now. Sydney's all, "Not without my mother." Jack grabs the phone from her as Kendall orders them to get out immediately and head for the extraction point. Jack snaps, "This is Jack. You'll either hear from us again, or you won't." I guess that's pretty much always true, of everyone, under any circumstances, isn't it? But still, the way Jack said it was all snappy and dangerous. Jack tells Sydney, "Our assignment from the CIA is to bring her back. That's our job." He takes off. Sydney looks after him in trepidation.
Lab Of Doom. (Doom.) Cuvee inspects things. Science-y things happen. There's a big ball of something. Jack and Sydney jog in, but everyone's so fixated on the experiment that no one really notices them. Sydney and Jack keep their eyes on Irina, waiting for a chance to make their move. Things whir and shake. Graphs on a computer do things. Finally, the big ball of something falls open, revealing a small nosegay of yellow flowers. Cuvee peers in at them in wonderment. Maybe the eventual business plan of the PRF is to shift their revolutionary activities into a floral-delivery company -- PRFTD, perhaps. Anyway, everyone other than Cuvee is distracted by the sound of planes overhead, loud enough to cause the flowers to tremble in what I assume is the subbasement. Cut to the sky. Fighter planes fire missiles. Cuvee reaches for the flowers just as the missiles strike the building. Chaos ensues. Irina watches as Cuvee reaches into the ball and pulls out the flowers. Apparently horrified at such a paltry bouquet, she delivers a nice roundhouse kick square in the gut. Cuvee belatedly pulls his gun and cocks it (hee hee) at her, but before he can fire, Jack knocks Cuvee the hell down and punches him out. Jack and Irina exchange the most intense "fuck me" look I have seen outside of Brad Pitt and George Clooney in Ocean's Eleven. But before they can consummate their forbidden lust, they remember that their damn wiener kid is there. Behind Jack, Sydney picks up the flower Cuvee dropped. "A flower? That's what this is all about?" she breathes. Yeah. A flower. So? Terrorists can't appreciate natural beauty? Jack reminds Sydney and Irina that they have to get the cores and get out.
Planes continue to fly, continuing to launch missiles. Amid the airborne hoo-ha, Vaughn's helicopter swoops in. The Bristows tear ass out of the base and toward the black helicopter. They stare. "It's Vaughn!" screams Sydney, because she loves him so much, she can even recognize his calf as it hangs out of a damn helicopter. Jack tells Vaughn they have the cores, so he should get the Indians to abort the air strikes. Vaughn does so. In the helicopter, both Sydney and Vaughn and Jack and Irina wish they were traveling in separate helicopters so that they could get it awwwwwwn. Bun chicka WAH wah!