Burn Notice

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Gilroy Was Here

Sam and Michael are both in the Charger outside, Sam making Michael crazy with his gum-popping, saying it calms the nerves. Sam wonders if it's go time, but Michael says it'll look suspicious if they move right away. "She knew what she was getting into," he adds, and asks Sam for some gum.

Inside, Fi asks where Coleman is, and Gabriel says Coleman got himself fired, apparently by forcing himself on the woman Fi replaced. Not sure how that timeline works, but it's probably best not to give Coleman too much more thought, LaPaglia or no. Gabriel confesses his fear of risk, and asks if he can trust her. He wants to know why she's here, and she says it's for the money. He opens up a thick folder he brought over to the table -- her Interpol file. He's wondering why she joined the IRA to blow up cars in Belfast in the first place. "We didn't have girls' soccer?" Fi quips. Her real answer: revenge. More on that soon.

Outside, Sam is wanting to clarify the signals: one button undone on Fi's blouse means "everything's groovy," whereas two buttons means there's a problem. Which of course seems totally backward to Sam. Michael's phone rings with a call from Gilroy, and Sam takes that as his cue to grab a jacket and a thick bound manual from the back of the car before getting out. Gilroy tells Michael that "It's the big day before the big day." Michael goes along with the play metaphor: "I can't work on my lines without a script." Gilroy tells Michael to get a pen. "I'll give you die-rections to rehearsal." Oh, please let there be more of this kind of dialogue waiting in the wings.

Gabriel is still going through Fi's file like this is a job interview where you could get shot at the end, asking why she moved to Miami. "I followed a man here," she admits, saying it didn't work out the way she hoped. Me, either. "Next question?" "You had a sister named Claire," Gabriel says. Fi looks like she wishes she could go back to the last question. Gabriel prompts, "One moment she's out shopping, the next an English soldier fires into a crowd. She chokes to death on her own blood. Tell me, what was the first thought that crossed your mind when you got that news?" What is he, Barbara Walters? Before Fi answers, one of the huge goons comes in to summon Gabriel outside. Gabriel tells Fi he'll be right back.

Gabriel joins his three goons outside, where Sam's in the yard wearing a semi-official-looking jacket and cap, introducing himself as Chuck Finley (of course) from the Shady Glade Homeowners Association. He shakes Gabriel's hand and brandishes the manual he's been holding. "Now, if you'd taken a couple hours to read appendix seven, well, I might not be here right now, sir." He starts giving Gabriel a hard time about his lawn maintenance, while inside, Fi gets up and goes to that padlocked door. She pulls a bobby pin out of her hair, even though she's been wearing it down, and picks the lock. As she finds herself in an office with a bulletin board plastered with papers, Michael VOs, "As a covert operative you learn that not every locked door leads to the secret you're looking for." Well, how could it? That would be a lot of secrets. "You may be searching for a hostage, but find something just as important. Like what your target is obsessed with." All those documents on the board do seem to have the word "Apex" on them. And in a desk drawer are some family photos featuring Gabriel. "Like what your target loves," the VO adds. Fi takes up way too much time looking at the pictures and the jewelry. Outside, Gabriel tries to get rid of Sam and turns to go inside. Why do all four of them need to be outside for this conversation in the first place? "Sweet Georgia with a fiddle!" Sam suddenly exclaims, pretending to spot some crabgrass. He says if it were to spread, "We're going to have to ask you to get out of the neighborhood. We'd have to come right up to you, yell in your face, 'get out.'" Fi belatedly gets the message in her earpiece as Gabriel orders his goons to escort Sam off the yard, while he chatters away bureaucratically the whole time.

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Burn Notice

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