Jordan goes around Singh, using his connections in the Evidence Room, to get a spare bug. He sees them do this every week on Dexter so he knows the routine. Then on his way out he notices that the Graystone box has been effed with, meaning that Clarice's mole has already gotten ahold of the infinity pin, as was previously discussed. Even if you didn't know what they were after, this would be the point you get the fuck out of Dodge because obviously your workplace is not secure. Even his Evidence buddy reminds him that the only people with the code in and out of here are "top brass." There are no coincidences, especially when you know for a fact that you are smack in the middle of an interglobal conspiracy. Or, I guess it could be the rats. If you're real dumb.
Daniel makes one of those gorgeous intuitive leaps we love so much, in the meeting with the Guatrau, right to being a Final Fiver: The Grace commercial was cute and frivolous, on the level of those greeting cards where Gramma tells you goodnight. But add Grace to Cylons, and you get immortality. Get it? Cylon bodies, never old and never dying, projecting, half here and half in the Matrix, one with the Cloud of Unknowing. "It will end death and disease. It will demolish our very conception of mortality."
Somewhere, Earth, a thousand or a hundred thousand years ago, Ellen said the same thing to Galen; they made it out just in time, bodies mangled in the last eruption. They made Jor-Els of themselves and sent themselves rocketing out, into the universe, to save their Twelve Poly brothers from extinction. They are on their way to save us, they are praying they'll get here on time. But they won't. They will not. We think we're safe but we're not safe.
And the reason they won't is that Daniel Graystone -- because of money and because of politics and because he's already in too deep -- has made a gorgeous intuitive leap today. Grace and Cylons: Never a safe mix. Inevitable, and unutterably beautiful, but deadly just the same. It starts today, born in fire and politics and the wars between twelve brothers, and the unending money and blood and shit on which our machine has always run. The banal, unmistakable movement of greed, and grief, working their way senselessly toward the end of everything. One more good intention.
The Guatrau is limited somewhat in his thinking, and given the eau de White Privilege that Daniel Graystone wears every day, assumes that he's being criticized on a man level, on a businessman level, but Daniel tries to keep him from going there: "By arming terrorists, you gain short-term profit, but at the expense of the biggest potential payday in either of our organizations' history [sic]." Out of one side of his mouth the Guatrau of the Ha'la'tha promises to wait two weeks before exporting his stolen robots; out of the other side he calls up Sam and tells him it's finally time for Daniel to die like they all always knew would come.