He needs another chance to show off his Russian, of course. The big, bulky men pick up the dead reverend and put him up on a drink cart. I'll never think about bottled water on a plane the same way again. Ew. Someone peers at the scene from behind a curtain, as if they're watching the effects of their "Evil" handiwork. Or it's just "Evil" floating around on the plane, annoyed that his holiday was interrupted by the good reverend's death. Or it's a ghost. Or it's the Angel of Death on loan from that awful show about angels who come to earth to help people accept the pain in their miserable little lives. Okay. I'm cut off; that's enough cynicism for one recap. As they cart the man off, Rachel turns to Doe: "Airplanes, computers, poisons, international law -- is there anything you don't know?" Blah man of mystery blah. He replies, "I've got a knack for facts." She calls his bluff: "And yet you don't seem to know if you've flown on an airplane before." Aw, he's blushing. Aw, she makes him nervous. Aw, he's mumbling. Aw, he's flirting: "I've got some gaps in my memory. Maybe I'm in need of a good neurologist." I take back the "aw" -- that line's definitely an "ew."