This week's episode began with Lynn McGill tidying up from that little scuffle of his across the street. You know, the one where his sister's boyfriend jumped him and stole his cash and Very Important CTU Thing That Has Yet To Be Called Upon. Anyway, despite the trickle of blood on his lip and the instant five o'clock shadow the ordeal seemed to have given him, Lynn managed to spiff up well enough that Bill Buchanan didn't seem to even notice his hobbit's disheveled state. Maybe that's because Bill had more pressing things on his mind, like all the increased chatter about the nerve gas containers. I always enjoy when CTU talks about terrorist "chatter." I imagine the terrorists all sitting around sipping tea, eating scones, and gossiping like some 19th century wags in a Jane Austen movie.

Anyway, the bad news of the day was that Erwich (that's the bad guy) had been putting out feelers to various terrorist cells, seeing if they wanted to help deploy all the nerve gas. And if that wasn't bad enough, Erwich now was planning to meet with and receive a microchip from this guy Rossler -- a.k.a. the old guy who the teenage sex slave shot to death last week. Well, Erwich called up, and not knowing what else to do, Jack answered the phone, pretending to be Rossler. He didn't do a very good impression, but it really didn't matter. Basically, all Jack said was "Yeah" (I would have preferred him to say "Yyyyyello!"), and Erwich immediately poured out all the details for their rendez-vous. Now, granted, I'm not a terrorist; so I don't always know the best way to conduct shady dealings, but well, shouldn't Erwich have been a little more prudent with his phone call? I mean, what would have happened had he called the wrong number? He very well could have just given all that information to Domino's. Or some old lady in Pasadena. It's kind of like when people dial the wrong number and leave a message on my answering machine. Are they even paying attention? Can't they tell that I'm not their tennis partner? Nor their doctor? Nor the damn front desk of the Grafton Hotel?? (I get that one a lot.)

Well, because Erwich was all talk and no listen (he needs to work on his communications skills), Jack lucked out. He decided he would pretend to be Rossler, which would work because Erwich was gonna send one of his henchmen to meet him, and the dumb henchman surely had never seen Rossler OR Jack. Seemed like a fun undercover sting, but back at CTU, Audrey was not happy with it. They'll probably kill him, she feared, but alas, she wasn't wearing her Smart Glasses, and therefore was routinely ignored by everyone.

So here was the plan: Jack was gonna pretend to be a scared woosy, Curtis would have his back, and Chloe and Edgar would be working on the chip's schematics. Aw, the whole gang working together. Group hug, guys!

Meanwhile, over in Dysfunction Junction, a.k.a. the Presidential Compound, Walt Cummings' suicide had sent the administration into a tailspin. Er, well, bigger tailspin. Good ol' Mike wanted to take advantage of Walt's death because after all, it kind of rendered all of his dirty dealings moot. Rather than sully the man's name posthumously by revealing his role in the day's events (and in turn implicate the White House in the scandal of the year), why not simply cover the whole thing up and say the guy committed suicide because of stress and despondency. And no, that won't seem suspicious to the American people at all.

Well, if there's anyone who hates a cover-up, it's Martha, and she was at that very moment typing up a press statement about Walt and his role in the day's chaos and whatnot. She was soon interrupted, however, by her faithful assistant Evelyn, who strayed away from her usual doormat demeanor. You see, Evelyn was confused and sad. She needed advice. She needed answers. Why had Walt Cummings killed himself? It just didn't seem right! Maybe he didn't commit suicide! Maybe there's a killer loose!

Not wanting to deal with her assistant's needy meltdown, Martha decided to simply level with the girl, confiding that Walt was a traitor and took his own life after he was exposed. Oh, and by the way, don't tell a soul, Evelyn. (Countdown to Evelyn spilling the beans begins riiiight... now.)

Elsewhere, Jack arrived downtown for his meeting with Erwich's man. "Showtime," he said rather amusingly as he stepped out of his car. I would have preferred him to say, "Time for the old razzle dazzle!" or "Okay, Maria, show 'em what you got!" (Don't know who Maria is, but it seemed apt). Anyway, since this is 24, we knew things had to go wrong, and the slow descent into Ooopsville began when not one, but two men stepped out of the Shady Van of Terrorist Wrath. That wasn't supposed to be! Uh oh. Jack was out-numbered. The wheels are already falling off the train (did I just mix metaphors? Please tell me).

Posted by B-side on February 14, 2006 5:05 PM