With some ammonia and a pair of pliers (who cleans with pliers?), Michael quickly rigs the window A/C unit to explode. Lucky for them they don't have central air. It's Cole's job to herd them into the alley, which he does by coming out of the house using the detached fridge door as a shield and then diving into the window of a neighboring house. Hope those people aren't home. When the bad guys move to follow, Michael shoots the A/C unit, blowing up the whole alley outside and knocking down all of them but Reese himself. Michael goes out after him, and despite looking more like a guy who fantasizes about what he reads in Soldier of Fortune than one who lives it, Reese turns out to be tough enough to knock Michael down. He's about to shoot him when Cole jumps out, knocking Reese aside and taking his gun. Which he then points at Michael, thanking him and saying he'll collect his fee after all. "You gotta be kidding me," Michael groans from where he's still lying on the ground. "Yeah, I am," Cole agrees, and helps Michael up. "Guess you were right about me," he says, which is the kind of thing nobody ever says. As the sirens start to approach, Michael suggests Antigua. Cole hands him a bundle of zip ties and walks away, dropping the gun on the ground. Because who needs that now, to get past a tightening dragnet in an evacuation zone?
Jesse and Michael are unpacking Madeline's breakables when she tells them not to brother -- tropical storm Edgar is on its way. Michael tells her to actually go next time there's an evacuation, but she hotly points out, "Who would have found the photograph that saved your skinny butt?" Michael concedes the point rather than simply saying, "Jesse or Fi."
Lane and Harris are at the door, and since Madeline doesn't want them in her house, Michael keeps them on the doorstep for their update: Bailey's safe and ready to testify, Reese and his team are busted, and Lane and Harris are taking the credit. They might have even gotten promoted had Cole not gotten away. "We owe you one, Westen," Harris says. Michael promises not to forget it. "Yeah, we know," Harris says, before Michael slams the door in his face. Hey, what about the gun dealer in the trunk? That chicken has to be gone by now.
Michael brings sushi to Fi, which she says trumps Vaughn's delivery of Cuban food. She tells him about Vaughn's offer. She goes on to say that she didn't take him up on it, because she has faith in Michael. He promises her that bringing down the people they're after should get Jesse back in. Fi's worried about him being in trouble with both Vaughn and Simon but hands him the Bible she had stashed in her fireplace. In Miami. "When this is over and the dust is settled, I don't want to wonder if I gave this to the wrong man" she lectures. She adds that she has a meeting with Vaughn that afternoon, and asks Michael to make her excuses.
But when Vaughn is approached at a seaside bar, it's by Lane and Harris, threatening to make him public enemy number one, or at least number two, unless he does what "our friend" wants. That's about as convincing as a banner ad. Vaughn looks over to where Michael is sitting not far off. The agents saunter over to Michael and say they're even. "Not yet, but it's a start," Michael says, dismissing them. Vaughn comes over to Michael, who's all, "Pretty scary, huh?" Even he doesn't seem convinced. Vaughn pleasantly says he can have all of them killed. "You pay Fiona another visit, you'll need to," Michael threatens, like Lane and Harris would give a shit, and again asks to talk to Simon. Vaughn agrees to set it up. "But know this: I was trying to protect you." He warns that you can't dig into Simon's head without letting him into yours. "I guess we'll find out," Michael says. I guess we will. But not this week. That's fine, I wasn't up for a taut psychological thriller tonight anyway.
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, or just e-mail him at m.giant[at]gmail.com.