Sydney: I think they�re doing analysis on it. They do that at Oxford, you know. Analysis. Research. You know - smart stuff.
Dixon: All right, all right. No need to be a smartass.
Sydney: Actually, there is. How else am I supposed to successfully infiltrate otherwise?
Dixon: Touch�.
Sydney: Excuse me, Random Professor #1?
Random Professor #1: Yes, my dear?
Sydney: I wanted to talk about how excited I was to read your research on motor vehicle crashworthiness, or whatever it is you�re working on.
R.P.#1: Oh my, yes. Terribly exciting work. Why, did you know that our statistics show that�?
Sydney: Uh-huh. Uh-huh. (gets distracted for a second when she sees Anna Kournikova in the background) Uh� look behind you a three-headed monkey!
R.P.#1: Wha? (turns around, failing to notice Sydney swiping his ID card, scanning it, and putting it back in his pocket.) I don�t see any three-headed�
Sydney: Oh, my mistake. It was just Random Professor #2.
R.P.#1: Oh, yes he does look a bit like a three-headed monkey when he�s pissed.
Sydney: That�s nice. Excuse me.
R.P.#1: What a nice young lady.
Sydney: (mutters) Moron.
Anna: Excuse me, Random Professor #2?
Random Professor #2: Yes?
Anna: May I borrow your ID card for a minute?
R.P.#2: No.
Anna: (beats him up) How about now?
R.P.#2: Owie. (Thuds)
Anna: I�ll take that as a yes.
Dixon: Here, I made a duplicate ID card for you with the scan you made.
Sydney: Thanks. Alert security that someone�s trying to break into the lab.
Dixon: Gotcha.
(A FEW MINUTES LATER)
Random Guard #1: Hold it right there, missy!
Sydney: (exasperated) Not me! Anna Kournikova�s breaking into the lab!
Random Guard #2: Anna Kournikova�s here? Dude, we have to get her autograph! And maybe some naughty pictures!
R.G.#1: Hey yeah, let�s go!
R.G.#1: Miss Kournikova! Miss Kournikova! Can we have your autograph?
R.G.#2: And maybe some naughty pictures?
Anna: �can�t you see I�m busy here? (sighs and pulls out a notepad and a pen)
Sydney: (walks past whistling nonchalantly, and walks over to the door, opening it with her swipe card) Hmmm. I really ought to short out the swiper with the remaining contents of my wine glass� but I really wanted to drink this wine� I know!
(Sydney turns back, takes the wine glass Anna has put down so that she can write out some autographs, and returns to the door.)
Anna: Are you going to do something? That woman�s breaking into your lab! And more importantly, she stole my wine!
R.G.#1: Naughty pictures first!
Anna: Oh Godammit!
Sydney: I�m in the lab. What am I looking for?
Dixon: You ought to be able to recognise a Rambaldi artefact by now, Sydney. But the broken code said something about a clock.
Sydney: (spots a large novelty digital watch on the desk, which has Rambaldi�s logo on it.) Now that�s just tacky.
Literature Teacher: You�re still on the brink of flunking this course, you know.
Sydney: I�m trying! I really am!
L.T.: Your latest paper was a total piece of crap.
Sydney: Seriously?!? I didn�t think it was that bad.
L.T.: It had no soul.
Sydney: No soul, eh? Would you believe I was possessed by the forces of evil when I wrote it?
L.T.: No.
Sydney: Darn.
Will�s boss: Have you gotten a quote from Daniel Hecht�s fianc� yet?
Will: No.
Will�s boss: Have you even told her that you�re doing the story on his murder yet?
Will: No.
Will�s boss: Get the quote.
Will: Do I have to?
Will�s boss: Only if you want me to keep giving you paycheques.
Will: (pouts) But I like paycheques! I use them for buying shit!
Will�s boss: You�re a fecalfeliac?
Will: Actually, I was using �shit� as a term for �stuff,� you know. The way we young people tend to do at times. Makes us sound cooler. But now that you mention it, I need to buy fertiliser for my garden from time to�
Will�s boss: Go get the damned quote already!
Jack: Arvin, did you have Eloise Kurtz killed?
Sloane: Yep. She was going to blab to Will Tippin about us. And she refused to please me sexually. She had to go.
Jack: I had a contingency plan all ready to go, but now I can�t use it.
Sloane: Sorry dude, but any woman who won�t give me a handjob is not welcome in this agency. As for Tippin, I think we need to eliminate him too.
Jack: (smirks) He turn you down as well?
Sloane: Nobody likes a smartass, Jack.
Jack: The audience does.
Sloane: Well I don�t.
Jack: I�ve got an idea on dealing with Tippin. Let me handle it.
Sloane: This had better be good. I don�t want Sydney whining about how I had another one of her man-slaves killed. Gets on my nerves.
(Sydney arrives in the Credit Dauphine parking garage, and goes to enter. Nearby, a guy is talking on his phone. Sydney pays this no attention for a minute, then suddenly has a thought and checks her phone. She has no service available, being in the underground garage. She nods to herself and launches herself at the guy.)
(INSIDE)
Sloane: Sydney, I�m very disappointed in you. Did you beat up Random Phone User #1?
Sydney: He wouldn�t tell me what network he�s with! I wanna be able to make calls from the garage too!
Sloane: We have discovered that Rambaldi did not create this novelty digital watch by himself. The only man he ever collaborated with was a clock maker, and he created this from Rambaldi�s design. We can�t get it to work, so we�re sending you to his direct descendant, to make him fix it.
Sydney: Did you try putting in a new battery? It probably hasn�t been used since the 15th Century � surely it needs a new battery?
Marshall: Batteries, in the 15th Century? Oh come on, that�s just ridiculous. Websites, digital watches and funky-looking doo-dads are one thing, but now you�re just being silly.
Sydney: Sloane�s having me followed. Should I be worried?
Jack: Possibly. While you were in Romania, Marshall seemed all PMS-ey about something with the computer networks. He may have discovered our worm.
Sydney: Damn. Can he trace that back to the CIA?
Jack: Hey, it�s Marshall. He seems capable of just about anything. (shrugs) Here�s the thing. Sloane�s called in a dude named Drier to drop by. If he suspected someone of being a double agent, then that�s who he�d call. You�d better get Vaughn to train you for lie detector tests.
Sydney: Oh yay. I�m just counting the number of ways this can go wrong.
Jack: 42?
Sydney: Not far off.
Will: Hey Syd, what you up to?
Sydney: Re-writing a report for school. Gotta give it some soul.
Will: I can help you with that.
Sydney: Yeah, really?
Will: Sure, I�ll just call my similar-named-counterpart from Buffy the Vampire Slayer for Dummies. We�ll need sage, incense, and an orb of Thessela.
Sydney: �?!?
Will: Never mind. (notices an old book and flips it open to see an inscription on the inside of the cover.) �To my sexy little Lara, all my love and horniness, Jack.� Whoa, your dad wrote this?
Sydney: Yeah, I guess. He used to buy my mum those first editions every month. Who would have guessed he had a heart?
Will: Forget that, who would have ever guessed he had a libido?
Sydney: �what are you doing here, anyway?
Will: Uhh�
Sydney: (looks sadly down at her engagement ring and sighs) I still wear his ring. Oh Danny� boy�
Will: Ooh, I know this one. The pipes, the pipes are calling, right?
Sydney: �what are you on?
(Sydney is hooked up to a lie detector, and being quizzed by Vaughn)
Vaughn: Are you an agent of SD-6?
Sydney: Yes.
Vaughn: Have you ever worked with any intelligence agencies other than SD-6?
Sydney: No.
Vaughn: Have you ever watched pornographic movies?
Sydney: Now you�re just being stupid.
Vaughn: What? It�s a question that might come up!
Sydney: It wasn�t funny when DeNiro did it to Stiller, and it�s still not funny now.
Clock-Maker: (working on the novelty watch) Oh yes, my ancestor was a real prick. Had a cuckoo-clock up his ass, and that would make anyone bitter. He made the most beautiful clocks in the world, but only for himself. Royalty, priests, all sorts would beg him to make clocks for them, but he refused all of them. Except for one man.
Sydney: Rambaldi?
C.M.: You got it, toots.
Sydney: How�d he convince him?
C.M.: He told him stuff. Told him he would live an impossibly long life. Even told him the date of his death.
Sydney: And was he right?
C.M.: (putting down his tools) Come now, honey. Would you be chasing his mouldy old items all over the globe if he wasn�t?
Sydney: I guess so. So does it work again? What was wrong with it?
C.M.: Needed a new battery.
Sydney: Oh, I knew it!
C.M.: It will tell the time again. But I suppose that�s not what you�re looking for. There�s a piece missing, but I don�t know what it is. Rambaldi never told me.
Sydney: �excuse me?
C.M.: Err� I mean� my mother, she said Rambaldi never told my ancestor. Yeah, that�s right. (looks down at the time and date on the watch.) Oh, shit! (A tennis racquet is stabbed through the back of his head, and he falls to the ground, quite obviously dead.)
Sydney: Dammit Anna! You don�t go around killing immortals! That�s just not cool!
Anna: (shrugs) I guess you could say it�s my racket.
Sydney: Shouldn�t you be off double-faulting somewhere?
Anna: That�s not funny! (starts to cry)
Sydney: Hasta la pizza, baby! (grabs the watch and jumps out the window)
Will�s boss: Have you been making this story up?
Will: What? No!
Will�s boss: I just got the passenger manifest for that flight to Singapore Mr. Hecht was supposed to catch. Look at who he sitting beside.
Will: Random Flier #1?!? But that�s not Kate Jones! Or Eloise Kurtz!
Will�s boss: You haven�t got any proof to back up this story of yours.
Will: I got a quote from Sydney Bristow! Look! (hands over a sheet of paper)
Will�s boss: �the lyrics to, �Oh Danny Boy�?
Will: (sighs) It seemed a lot smarter at 3 am.
Francie: Sydney, I�ve got bad news. I spilled lemonade all over one of your mum�s books.
Sydney: What?!? You stupid bitch!
Francie: I also handed your report in to your literature teacher in person.
Sydney: Okay, all is forgiven. (flips through the book to check for damage) Wait a second� oh, that sunnuva bitch.
Francie: (breaking the third wall by talking directly to the audience) Hoo boy, she�s pissed at her dad again. I can�t wait until J.J. decides it�s time to let them get along with each other. That�ll really throw the audience.
Sydney: Check this out. There�s Cyrillic codes in these books that Dad bought my mother 20 years ago. See! He was KGB! This is how he was getting his orders from them!
Vaughn: Another week, another accusation. Isn�t this getting as old for you as it is for me?
Sydney: I thought you wanted to bone me.
Vaughn: I do. What�s your point?
Sydney: Fat chance of that happening unless you take my side once in awhile.
Vaughn: (jumps to his feet) Your father must be brought to justice immediately!
Sydney: That�s better.
Sloane: Now here�s the clever thing about Rambaldi�s works. Together, they form a bigger picture than they do separately. Marshall?
Marshall: Sydney, you brought this golden sun back from the church in Spain, remember?
Sydney: I remember getting several large tufts of my hair pulled out by Anna Kournikova. (mutters) Stupid bitch.
Marshall: Check this out. (puts the sun behind the quartz lens of the watch, and everyone stares in amazement as the digital numbers change into analog hands, which spin around until they point at an air bubble in the sun.) Incredible, isn�t it? That air bubble, if you check it under a magnifying glass, is a star chart. A picture taken of the sky from one specific location at one specific time.
Dixon: (inspecting it) Rambaldi took photos too? Wow, he must have had a good camera. This one came out really well.
Sloane: Using the date written on the back of the clock, we have determined the only place on Earth that photo could have been taken from was a spot in Argentina. Sydney, you and Dixon are going in to see if Rambaldi left something there. Oh, but I want you to go see Mr. Drier first.
Jack: Nice knowing you.
Sydney: Shuddup.
Drier: What�s your name?
Sydney: (hooked up to a lie detector) Sydney Bristow.
Drier: What colour are your eyes?
Sydney: Brown.
Drier: Are you an agent of SD-6?
Sydney: Yes.
Drier: Are you a double agent?
Sydney: (hesitates) Nooo�
Drier: Have you ever watched pornographic movies?
Sydney: Oh god, you have gotta be shitting me!
Vaughn: Here�s a digital camera. It�s hooked up to a satellite in geo-synchronous orbit, so just take some happy snaps of whatever you find and we�ll get them instantly.
Sydney: Sure, great, whatever.
Vaughn: What�s up with you?
Sydney: I think I failed the lie detector test.
Vaughn: They asked you about the porno movies, didn�t they?
Sydney: Would you stop that?!?
Will: (into phone) Hello?
Mike: Hey Will, this is Mike the random mechanic.
Will: Oh hey Mike, what�s up?
Mike: I�m a little worried. Your friend Eloise left her car here, and never came back for it. And I can�t reach her on her phone.
Will: She�s dead, Mike. She got gunned down last week. I saw her in the obituaries.
Mike: Really? Damn, I knew I should have got her to pay in advance.
Will: Wait a minute� remembering something here� come on, work you stupid brain�
(FLASHBACK TO EPISODE 1-06)
Will: Wait a sec, why are we talking about your car? I want to talk about Danny!
Kurtz: Oh, for goodness sakes. Isn�t it obvious something terrible is about to happen to me? That car�s going to be your next clue, dumbass!
(END FLASHBACK)
Will: Oh yeah. Hey Mike, mind if I come have a look at that car?
Mike: Are you asking me if you can come search the vehicle of a dead woman so you can gawk at and perhaps even steal any personal effects she may have left in it?
Will: Well, yeah. Is that a problem?
Mike: Of course not. Why would it be?
(AT THE GARAGE)
Will: Hmm. Pretty flower brooch. (answers his ringing phone) Will Tippin here.
Will�s boss: Will, I�m just calling you to keep the secondary-plot moving along.
(Will notices that the reception is kind of squeaky-static-ey, and holds up the brooch to the phone, which makes the reception much worse.)
Will: Okay, thanks. (hangs up.) Cool! A secret transmitter!
Sydney: Argentina blows.
Dixon: I hear that. But I want you to know, that I�m proud of you, and everything you do for this country.
Sydney: Gee, thanks Dixon. Wait, why are you telling me this? You�re not about to have a tragic, life-threatening accident, are you?
Dixon: Probably. What does the GPS say?
Sydney: It says we dig right about� here.
(They dig, and uncover a buried trapdoor, with the Rambaldi logo on it.)
Sydney: Huh, how about that? A secret underground vault.
Dixon: Now that�s more like it. Much more fun than a snooty, snob filled party.
Sydney: I�m going in.
Dixon: Have fun. I�ll wait up here.
(In the chamber, Sydney opens a dust-covered box to find a journal, protected against the years of waiting to be unearthed inside a leather cover. She starts taking photos, whilst reading bits and pieces.)
Sydney: �Dear diary, today I invented some crazy shit. Dear diary, today I invented even more crazy shit.� Well, this ought to be an interesting read. (into com) Dixon, I found it � it�s Rambaldi�s journal.
Dixon: (over com) Help! I�m under attack! Tennis racquets! Tennis racquets everywhere! (is suddenly cut off)
Sydney: Dixon? Dixon?!?
Anna: (appears from the bottom of the ladder, pointing a tennis racquet at her) Hand over the journal. And no smart-ass remarks about my ability to play tennis this time, or else you suffer the same fate as Dixon.
Sydney: You know, this place looks kind of dangerous for a battle. Can we do it somewhere else?
Anna: Okay. How about halfway up the incredibly tall ladder that leads out?
Sydney: Sure, sounds good.
(Anna stabs her in the chest with her tennis racquet anyway, grabs the journal, and starts climbing back up the ladder. Sydney groans, then unvips her jacket to reveal a racquet-proof vest underneath. She starts climbing upwards in pursuit.)
Sloane: Did you find a mole yet?
Drier: Uh-huh.
Sloane: �and?
Drier: �and what?
Sloane: Are you going to tell me who it is?
Drier: Oh, right. Yeah, it was Sydney Bristow.
Sloane: �seriously?
(Anna�s about halfway up before Sydney catches up to her, and grabs her foot. They grapple and struggle for a bit, before Anna finally gets fed up and swipes at her with her tennis racquet.)
Sydney: (loses her balances and falls into the depths) Why didn�t Marshall give me a parachuuuuuuuuuuuuuu�