When Sean joins them in the main room, Michael tells him to stop parking his car on the side streets. Sean denies having done so, but instead of having alarms go off in his head, Michael argues with him. So they're all completely taken by surprise when a tear gas canister is tossed through the window. Michael reaches for the gun in the back of his waistband, but a beanbag round hits him in the small of the back, fired by a gas-masked commando, and he goes down. More men come crashing in. Sean starts firing, but takes a couple of machine-gun rounds to the body and also crumples. All sorts of weird photography tricks are being used to demonstrate that the gas is rendering Michael helpless and disoriented, even as someone grabs Fi and starts dragging her out. Just as one of the guys is about to shoot Michael in the face, O'Neill stops him, saying Michael has to live. O'Neill removes his mask (just that much of a bad-ass, I guess) and says, "You got some good friends, Westen." He pistol-whips Michael into total unconsciousness and a commercial break.
When we come back, Michael sits up from the floor in the now-clear air, yelling Fiona's name with his first conscious breath. Across the room, Sam and Madeline are doing some emergency field surgery on Sean on the bare hardwood. As Michael struggles to his feet, asking where Fiona is, Sam apologizes for giving Michael the short end of the wound triage. "Broken ribs weren't a priority. You were breathing steady.... I got here, found Sean, called Maddie." Who doesn't seem as angry as you'd think that Sean's Irish blood has ruined her white slacks. They explain that Sean refused to go to the hospital because it would mean they'd never find Fi. As opposed to this course of action, which tied up the entire conscious and non-kidnapped half of the team (and that's if you count Madeline as part of the team, which I think we're supposed to start doing) with patching him up "How did O'Neill find the safe house?" Sam wonders out loud, but Michael's already out the door. I think he's got the same theory I do.
O'Neill's convoy, consisting of his Lexus and a black SUV, pulls into a fenced-in area surrounding what looks like an abandoned boat chartering business near the water. Well, of course it's near the water, where else would it be? O'Neill roughly hauls Fi (now with a bag over her head and her hands tied behind her back) out of the back of the SUV, jauntily calling her "sweetheart" and dragging her into the shack.
Michael, meanwhile, did indeed have the same thought I did, because he has gone straight to Strickler's place, only to find him on the phone. "Where's Fiona?" Michael demands. When Strickler puts him off with a gesture, Michael pushes over a row of fancy display cases and screams, "You tell me where Fiona is now!" Way to finesse him, Michael. Strickler finishes his call and says, "Now how would I know that?" Michael tells Strickler what just happened, particularly the part where O'Neill had clearly made a deal to leave him alive. "I thought of you." Strickler sarcastically congratulates him for following that trail of clues. "No point in denying it, you would have figured it out eventually." Michael says Strickler sent Fi to her death. "I sent her home, like she wanted," Strickler insists. "What happens after she gets there, well, she's a big girl." By what possible measure? He says he did this as clean as he could, and calls himself Michael's "goddamn white knight." Michael makes a move toward Strickler, and Strickler draws a gun on him, telling him to get back. "I'm getting a little sick of your ingratitude! I'm the one trying to help you out!" Moving to block the door, he says, "You wanted Back In? Well guess what? A gun-dealing, bomb-making girlfriend wasn't helping your case. She had to go. And it was clear you were too attached to do what needed to be done, so like a good partner I did it for you." Okay, that's just stupid. Leaving aside that fact that Strickler had to know Michael wouldn't take this well, why alienate him by turning Fi over to the bad guys when she was within days of leaving the country anyway? As if Michael weren't already harboring serious doubts about working with Strickler as a result of his greed and amorality, he now learns that his agent is a moron as well. Strickler locks the door, and tells Michael that he's not leaving for an hour, which will be enough time for the cargo company Strickler hired to have "Miss Glennanne and her fan club in international waters," out of Michael's reach. "I'll be the bad guy, you're welcome." Michael again asks where she is, and tells Strickler to get out of the way. "You don't get to have the girl and the job!" Strickler yells. "She doesn't fit into your future. Our future. So why don't you do yourself a favor and just forget the past?" And with that Strickler's transformation to the Yoko Ono of Burn Notice is complete. Michael has adopted a posture of frustration during this rant, turning partly to one side with his hands on his hips. But now he looks up at Strickler and hisses, "Fiona is not my past." And from where it must have been in his back waistband all along, he whips out a gun and shoots Strickler once in the gut and once in the heart. Strickler's dead before he hits the ground. Michael grabs the dead man's cell phone. Well, the bright side is that now Michael doesn't have to pay him his ten percent commissions any more, and can continue keeping all the nothing he earns on his jobs to himself.
Walking out of Strickler's place, Michael calls Sam and tells him Strickler arranged for passage back to Ireland for O'Neill, and has apparently been making calls to a charter fishing house on Key Biscayne. "Perfect place to load a prisoner onto our transport boat," Michael says. Sam reports that Sean will live, and Michael tosses his gun and phone into the Charger's open window before getting in and driving off.
After Michael has collected Sam, they roll up to an area of shoreline where they can use their opera glasses to scope out the hideout, the dock, and the waiting motorboat that's tied to it. They go to get the bomb out of the Charger's trunk and plant it on the boat. "Let's make sure the feds catch him with it this time," Sam says. Yeah, good plan, that.
Inside the shack, O'Neill pulls a strip of electrical tape off Fi's mouth (why, I'm not sure), and gloats over her. She says she's heard he's auctioning her off. "Not man enough to do it yourself?" "If this was just about you and me," he says, getting in her face, "I'd be holding a bloody hammer and you'd be choking on a mouthful of teeth." But he explains that now, thanks to the high-profile gig he's pulling off right now, he's going to be a star. A star! "There's no place in Ireland for a bastard like you," Fi spits. "There's always room for a patriot," he says. Fi vehemently disagrees with that characterization. "You're a monster who wraps himself in a cause to justify murdering children! Even your own country wants you dead!" He socks her one and tells her she's wrong. "You hit like a girl," she says, and then spits like a guy just to drive home the point.