At a sidewalk café, Michael meets Sam, who's thrilled about all the goodies Madeline got him, and gives her props for knowing how to work an asset. "She's done her fair share of manipulating people over the years," Michael snots. He sits down, joining Sam in his stakeout of the county clinic that the records led them to. "There's a few too many shady characters walking out of there with neck braces," Sam says by way of updating Michael on his stakeout. There's also a Corvette parked out front, like the one Calia said the bad guy was driving. Sam had the plates checked, and the car belongs to one Ryan Johnson, on parole for fraud and assault. He just happens to be exiting the clinic right now, shaking hands with a doctor. You may recognize him as the guy who's been tormenting Katee Sackhoff (and let's face it, me) during this season of 24. Sam briefs Michael about this week's cover ID: Michael will be posing as a guy from North Carolina who is a friend of Eric Lee -- also a friend of Ryan, who happened to have died in the same crash as Calia's husband. Small world, no? "Well, looks like I'm goin' for a drive," Michael says, dropping into an exaggerated Southern drawl and stripping down to his wifebeater. Instant redneck!

As Michael's Charger screeches through traffic up behind Ryan's Corvette, Michael VOs, "Precision driving is part of the standard training for an operative." How modest. "It's mainly used when pursuing or being pursued. But on occasion, it's a great way to make an impression." Michael pulls up next to Ryan's car in the oncoming traffic lane, and through their open windows, whoops that they need to talk. He drops back just in time to avoid a collision, but Ryan doesn't seem interested in talking. He tries to lose Michael, but Michael won't get lost. Instead, he pulls up next to Ryan again and whips his wheel around, causing the Charger to skid in a 180 in front of Ryan's 'Vette so the two cars end up stopped nose-to-nose. Ryan gets out of his car, all upset and wondering what's going on. "Hell, what's it look like, boy?" Michael drawls around what sounds like a big nasty plug of chaw in his mouth. "It's a job application." Don't most people wear ties to those? Or at least shirts with sleeves?