To the interrogation room/storage locker, where we learn that the mad bombers are, in fact, members of the BLA? What's the BLA? The Black Liberation Army, otherwise known as The Organization We Invented So We Would Not Have to Pay Bobby Seale and the estate Huey Newton any royalties. Fletcher demands to know if the BLA is holding Angel, and when they answer him with stony silence, he slams the table. Curiously that doesn't loosen their tongues any. Hunt figures that the two of them must know something, and he begins pointedly sniffing: "The nose knows." Carling threatens to go after them with a pair of pliers and a hammer. Skelton just grins stupidly. After this interrogation session, maybe someone needs to have a word with Chris about his game face. Unless this is all part of some good cop-bad cop-horribly ineffectual cop exercise they've got down to a system in the 125. Whether it's the threat of pliers or Skelton's unnerving grin, one of the suspects finally cracks: Ramirez got away. Also, the BLA would prefer it if Angel were to follow Keisha into the Great Beyond, and there's a price on Angel's head to make sure that this comes to pass.
Annie hates to interrupt this moment, really she does, but there's a lady by the name of Denise Watkins here to see him. Who's she? Apparently, she's what's attached to the breathtakingly long pair of legs waiting in the squad room. And she's apparently here as the legal counsel for the two BLA henchmen that Fletcher apprehended. Theirs is not a friendly meet-cute, what with Denise angrily accusing Fletcher of being a traitor to his race and all. Not that Fletcher takes it personally: he's too busy staring at her gams. The young people still use that word, right? Gams? Well, they should. Anyhow, Sam and Fletcher retreat to a less hostile corner of the office, while Fletcher remarks that the ancient Greeks have a word for a lady such as Denise -- "hubba, hubba." I am fairly certain that is not a Greek word; it is very obviously Pig Latin. Hey, good news, though, Fletch -- Sam says the two of you are going to hook up one day. When Fletch stares at him quizzically, Sam suddenly remembers that not everyone realizes he's hurtled back in time 35 years. "I mean, everybody likes legs," Sam says hastily. "Why wouldn't you like legs? Right?" Smooth recovery -- I'm sure Fletcher didn't notice a thing.