Michael comes home to find Sam sitting on the steps to his loft, holding a manila folder and looking grim. Seeing this and hearing the sad cello music on the soundtrack, Michael asks him what's wrong. Sam says his research has proved fruitful. The original stadium shooting in 1998 in South America -- six victims, to match the six shots earlier in the episode -- was reputedly the work of someone named Mason Gilroy, as was the hotel fire in 1999. Michael isn't happy to hear it, being familiar with the name. The clincher was that the note left for Michael at the hotel was sprayed with a cologne called Monaco Silver, and the last sighting of Gilroy was in Monaco. So I'd say either someone is setting up Mason Gilroy, or Mason Gilroy thinks he's the fucking Riddler. Unfortunately we're about to find out which. When Sam came by to update Michael, he found a cell phone waiting by the gate. "He knows where you live, Mike," Sam obviouses. "And he didn't kill me yet," Michael bright-sides, hitting the dial button and putting the phone to his ear. Which then explodes. Okay, not really, but it would serve Michael right. At least put it on speaker. After one ring, Michael says, Gilroy!" The man with the British accent congratulates Michael on figuring out the game. "Are we done playing?" Michael grumps, as though it hadn't been Sam doing all the work. Gilroy says he likes how Michael didn't call the cops (as though he ever does without setting up the person he's calling the cops on first), and thinks maybe they should meet. "Just give me a time and a place," Michael says. How about next Thursday, USA Network, ten Eastern? That good for y'all?
M. Giant is a Minneapolis-based writer with a wife, a son, and a number of cats that seems to have settled at around two. Learn waaaay too much about him at Velcrometer, follow him on Twitter, or just e-mail him at M.Giant[at]gmail.com.