There's a long previouslies sequence at the beginning of this episode, which on this show is usually a sign that things are going to get heavy. But this week, I think it's just a sign that the episode ran a little short. That, or they're not comfortable with how clearly they communicated last week that the covert flight Gilroy is interested in is flying from Chile to Poland, with a fuel stop in Miami. This previouslies sequence does that so well, it even includes dialogue to that effect that wasn't in the previous episode.

"When you need to locate a foreign spy office, it's all about the food," Michael VOs. "Spies like home cooking just like everyone else. Find out who serves their regional delicacies, tip the bartenders and delivery boys well, and they'll usually tell you who placed the big orders on the last national holiday. If some of those orders head to an office with tight security and scowling workers with short haircuts, you're in business." Sure, as long as the spies you're looking for in Miami aren't Cuban. But I guess there can't be that many really good Polish sausage places there.

While this VO has been going on, we've been watching a delivery guy carrying a bag into a nondescript two-story office building. Also watching, from a parking lot across the street? Michael and Fi, who are using the roof of the Charger as a coffee table while Fi does what she normally does when she isn't blowing things up: complaining. She lists off a few more traditional date locales: "Beach, concerts, farmers markets. Ugly Polish intelligence offices? Not so much." Michael says this isn't his first choice either, so Fi offers an alternative: "Instead of working with Gilroy the psychopath? Instead of sneaking around trying to figure out what he wants to steal from this plane? Shoot him and be done with it." For once, Fi and I are on the same page. Michael admits he's considered it, but he wants to discover and stop whoever hired Gilroy. Hasn't Michael figured out yet that the trail never ends? He's just going to keep figuring what the bad guys want and who hired them and what they want and who hired them, and on and on and on until he finally comes face-to-face with the supreme leader of the ultimate covert international conspiracy that controls every aspect of public and private life throughout the entire world, and it's going to be his fricking mom. But for now, as he finishes explaining his shorter-term goal to Fi, out of the ugly Polish intelligence office comes an ugly Polish intelligence officer. Michael explains to Fi why this scowling blond hump is the guy to go after: "Low on the totem pole at work, short on cash, bad divorce. He's perfect. We're meeting later today." The subtitles identify Michael's contact -- who doesn't seem aware of Michael and Fi's presence -- as "Conrad -- Easy Target." Michael admits that his Polish is rusty, but since Conrad's mother happens to be a Muscovite, Michael figures he can get away with posing as a Russian, a language he knows much better. "Hopefully we end this quick," he jinxes as they get in the car. Approaching a Pole as a Russian? Michael would have had better luck approaching Fi and her family back in Ireland as a Brit.