Sydney smiles at the nasty guard and pushes open the mirrors. She makes serious eye contact with Secoulis and poses seductively by the wall. Secoulis looks tres, tres gross. Sydney says he's looking right at her. Man, is he smarmy. Dixon tells her the club's lighting is disrupting the signal, so she has to get super-close -- like two inches close. Sydney mutters, "Great," and actually makes me laugh for the first time in, I think, ever.
She makes a little "come here" gesture and, like a dog on a leash, Secoulis leaps his way over. He gives her the up-and-down. She says, "I understand you're the owner of the club," and Secoulis smarms, "Ah, you are American." Sydney deadpans, "That's right. God bless America." Dixon tells her that she needs to lock his gaze at an even closer range. She puts an arm around his neck as she whispers, "Your dancers suck." Secoulis says, "You think you could do a better job?" Just then, his chief goon tells him his eleven o'clock is here. Secoulis expresses his regrets to Sydney, all the while running his hands up her shoulders. To quote Janet Jackson: nasty.
Secoulis tells Sydney to follow him. He leads her to a private little room with a simply enormous bodyguard. Sydney pulls him in for a meaningful look to try to get a lock on his retinas. Secoulis gets all hot and heavy and says he'll be back in ten minutes. Dixon tells her that the scan was successful.
Sydney tries to leave. The big fat guard won't let her by. Blah blah blah fightcakes. Dixon tells her that he'll get the info, that she should concentrate on getting out. Sydney fumbles over the unconscious guard to get his keys as she tries to convince Dixon that she should do it, but he wins out.
Dixon heads for Secoulis's office and downloads all the info as Sydney escapes, only to have another guard spot her. The Alias mega-mix is in full effect. It's giving me seizures. Sydney runs into another room full of women dancers (read: hookers) and men (read: johns). The big fat bodyguard grabs her from behind. Secoulis approaches her and asks if she's auditioning to be a dancer or a bouncer. He has a truly repulsive laugh. Meanwhile, Dixon's still downloading info. He finishes as the scene cuts back to Sydney. Secoulis says, "I can't decide if you are my taste," and licks the side of her face -- and it's a looooong lick. Sydney looks beyond repulsed, and then kicks the crap out of him. Dixon runs into the room and also does some damage before they're able to escape.
Los Angeles. CIA Safehouse. Hassan is playing with his food. Vaughn enters, looking about as threatening as a Backstreet Boy -- somehow, he even manages to make the gun he's wearing look less menacing. Vaughn asks him if he's ready to talk. Hassan says, "Screw you," and adds he won't talk until he gets shown some respect. Vaughn once again makes the prison-bitch threat. Except he uses the phrase "someone's after-dinner mint," like Vaughn should talk. An altar boy could make Vaughn his after-dinner mint. He turns to leave. Hassan asks him again to get his family to safety. Vaughn says he can only guarantee Hassan's comfort. Hassan acquiesces and tells him that the weapons the CIA wants are in a silo on Crete. That was quick.