Burn Notice

My name is Michael Westen.

I used to be a spy until...

We got a burn notice on you. You're blacklisted.

When you're burned, you've got nothing...

no cash, no credit, no job history.

You're stuck in whatever city they decide to dump you in.

- Where am I? - Miami.

You do whatever work comes your way.

You rely on anyone who's still talking to you.

A trigger-happy ex-girlfriend...

Should we shoot them?

An old friend who used to inform on you to the FBI...

You know spies... a bunch of bitchy little girls.

- family, too... - Hey, is that your mom again?

- If you're desperate. - Someone needs your help, Michael.

Bottom line... as long as you're burned,

you're not going anywhere.

If someone calls a meeting in a deserted location,

they want control.

They can tell if you're alone, and if you try anything,

it's easy to take you out with a sniper.

So, if someone wants a chat in the middle of nowhere,

it never hurts to bring a sniper of your own.

You're awfully quiet, Sam.

Yeah, well, what do you want me to say?

That I'm worried Gilroy got wind that you're double-crossing him,

or that I got a bad feeling about this mystery man

that he wants to jailbreak?

Everything's fine. Just calm down.

No, I don't think I will.

You know what kinds of people they ferry around

on secret planes in super-max custody?

People with forked tongues, Mike.

People with hair on their palms.

Maybe you want a closer look at this monster,

but I say it's time to walk away.

Gilroy's doing this with or without me.

We can't stop him till we know how he's pulling it off.

Yeah, well, you know what they say

about holding a snake by the tail, Mike.

I think it's a tiger by the tail, Sam.

Yeah, well, either way,

you let go of it before it eats your face off.

He's here, Sam.

Try and stay in the open, will you?

I can't cover a moving car.

And if that evil limey mastermind offers you a ride,

you treat him like a stranger with candy,

and you say, "no, thank you, sir."

- Nice wheels, Gilroy. - You like?

Cost me a fortune, but she's armored like a tank.

Sorry to ring you out of the blue,

but it's such a lovely day.

I thought we'd go for a drive.

Oh, Mike, don't you dare.

Why not?

Ah. Why am I still surprised?

The curtain's about to part for our grand finale,

but there remains one minor detail to address.

This compound belongs to the knights of resistance,

a group of right-wing separatists.

- White supremacists. - Potato, po-tah-to.

Now, you're to purchase an item from their armory.

An item?

You want me to go on a gun buy without a shopping list.

I thought we were playing for the same team, Gilroy.

Indeed we are.

I suppose you've earned your place in this partnership.

It's a Browning .50-caliber machine gun.

- Happy? - Thrilled... partner.

You're to ask for Duke.

The price has been pre-negotiated.

Well, off you go.

Appreciate you making the trip.

Too many of our white brothers aren't willing to drive out here,

even if it means buying from the Cubans and Jamaicans.

No offense, but I'm here for the price, not the people,

and the only color I care about is green.

We gonna do this or not?

Suit yourself.

Right through here.

Uh, something you want to tell me, Duke?

See, we ain't arms dealers. We're freedom fighters.

Our guns aren't for sale,

but we'd like to thank you for your donation.

Anything to help the cause.

You want to help the cause?

Get a new favorite color.

Fighting two against one is never ideal,

but there are ways to even the odds.

Jam your opponents into a corner,

and they won't have room to use both arms.

It's like fighting one person with two angry heads.

It makes them easier to engage and easier to disengage.

Didn't go as planned.

Actually, it went exactly as planned.

You still have the money. I have a new toy.

How'd that case treat you, by the way?

Handy.

It's never fun being used as a diversion,

but it is an effective way to get the drop on an enemy

with superior numbers and firepower.

Then it's all about making a clean getaway.

If you can't do that, it never hurts to be in an armored car.

You know, I had a funny feeling

those guys might try to rip us off.

Eat or be eaten, I suppose.

Next time you send me in as a decoy,

a heads-up would be nice.

Honestly, Michael, if you couldn't survive

a go-round with Duke and Jimbo, you deserve to get killed.

Thanks to you,

security at the armory wasn't exactly watertight.

You know, .50 caliber...

that's quite a party favor, Gilroy.

I find that .50-caliber rounds

have a delightful way of making one's problems die.

That's funny.

Artillery like that makes me a little itchy about this job.

If you want me to scratch your back, just say so.

We're having a dress rehearsal tomorrow.

You'll get everything you need to know, partner.

Until then, ta-ta.

Sam, you're doing dishes.

Yeah, well, I had to do something to pass the time.

You have any idea what you put me through,

getting in that car with Jack the ripper?

So, you got enough intel on this dirty deed to wrap up Gilroy?

Well, not exactly,

but I did help him steal a Browning .50 cal.

Well, forgive me if I don't pat you on the back.

Do you think you could get in touch

with your contacts at the FBI?

You know, the ones you used to inform on me to?

Yeah, no problemo.

For your sake, Michael, I hoped you were dead.

I can put up with a lot,

but four calls without so much as a text back?

That just takes me right to the edge.

What's on your mind, Fi?

A hustler named Coleman wants to meet about a gig.

He once helped me with a cash-flow problem.

He deals in counterfeit bags, stolen phones.

He's a harmless weasel, but his gigs pay top dollar.

I thought you might like to come, just in case.

Ooh, I have a meeting with the FBI.

Why don't you talk to Sam?

Sam?

So, I'm in a tiny, little jam, and I say to myself,

"Coleman, if you need a hard-core, bad-ass chick,

well, bud, there's only one lady to go to...

Fiona Glenanne."

"Lady's" a bit of a stretch.

I'm sorry. Who are you again?

Oh, he's just my gofer.

He cleans my guns, fetches my dry cleaning.

What kind of job we talking about here?

You know, you're awfully chatty for the help.

Yes, he is.

Be quiet while the grown-ups are talking.

Answer the question anyway.

You know how this works, babe.

I can't tell you exactly what the gig is until you agree to do it.

Hey, hey. Eyes over here.

You see this?

That's 10 large... 5 up front, 5 when you finish.

20... because I'm worth it.

Come on. After everything we've been through?

You know that I'm already doing this at cost, right?

Wow.

Fine.

Be at this address at 6:00.

And do us a favor...

leave Mr. Chuckles at home, will you?

So, let's get this straight... you want us to stop Gilroy,

who no one can prove is even in the country?

From hijacking a plane no government will acknowledge?

That's rich, Westen.

Fine, alert the CIA. Make it their problem.

Look, they won't take my calls,

but I figured a tip from the FBI...

maybe they'll take it seriously.

Harris, question... so far as it concerns

calling the territorial jackasses at Langley,

where would you put that on the old to-do list?

Hmm. Maybe 400, 500.

Gilroy's in possession of a .50-cal machine gun.

I have firsthand knowledge.

You, uh, tell us where he's keeping the hardware,

maybe that's something we can work with.

I don't know.

Don't you think I'd tell you if I could?

So, we just have to look under every rock

from here to Epcot Center... that the idea?

Nah.

Little suggestion for you...

next time you want to cry wolf,

do it at a café on South Beach, huh?

When you're buying.

You know how some people promise