Sam cheerfully tells Michael he's on a schedule too; he wants to get this wrapped up before his little getaway with Ms. Reynolds. Michael's like, yeah, about that. He needs not only Sam's time, but his space. "How many days do you and Ms. Reynolds have that villa?" Sam tries to refuse, but Michael's hangdog look overrides his resistance. He may be in lust with Ms. Reynolds, but I think we all know who he really loves. "Sometimes it's hard being your friend," he sighs. Just keep thinking about those rich women in the brewery, Sam. By the time you and Michael get to them, there will be a lot of them.
Back at the loft, Michael shuts the man and the woman into the Buick's capacious trunk, and Sam drives off, not looking forward to cancelling with Ms. Reynolds. Never mind that, Sam; worry about the unholy mess your captives are liable to make in her mom's trunk. No sooner is he gone than Michael gets a call from his mom, who reports that she just spotted the cleaner and he should get over there before he takes off. "Great work, Mom," Michael tells her. "Don't forget my roof," she reminds him. Michael hangs up, and turns to Fi. Since he's going to have to help Sam with the interrogations, he winces as he asks her to tail the cleaner and see if he scouts a location for the deal Strickler wants him to photograph. "Thanks, Fi," Michael says to her retreating back. He's clearly not comfortable asking her to help him with a gig she doesn't even think he should have taken on, but I have to give Fi credit for not making him squirm over it. Wait -- is credit the right word?
That's a very nice villa Michael's co-opting from Sam, and Sam's having trouble getting over it. "I just didn't expect to be wearing pants here," he TMIs. What happened to need-to-know? Moving on, Sam leads Michael over to an open laptop to show him a double-screen surveillance feed, showing the woman unmasked and handcuffed to a four-poster bed in a guest room. They must not think she's very motivated to escape, because the bed column they've chained her to isn't much taller than she is; if she wanted, she could probably raise her hands up and get the handcuff chain over the top of the pole without even having to stand on the mattress. Meanwhile the guy has been subjected to even fewer restraints; while he's still wearing his headbag in a dungeon of a basement utility room, he's just standing there with his hands cuffed in front of him. So I guess these are encouraging signs that Michael and Sam have a couple of unusually cooperative captives on their hands. Sam reports that neither of them had any ID, but the woman's keychain has a photo of a doe-eyed toddler, which he shows to Michael. "Nothing like a personal memento to find a soft spot," Sam says. He'll take her while Michael takes the guy. "Because you know, Mike," Sam says, "I got a way with the ladies."