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Transmissão .::. Transcripts .::. Primeira Temporada .::. #1.16 The Prophesy

(Washington, DC. White House. Inside, meeting with the Senate Select Committee of Intelligence. Many senators have gathered around a table. One senator in particular, Sen. Townsend, reads several pages and looks up.)
TOWNSEND: Exactly who is this Sydney Bristow and why should this committee's time be spent on her?
EVANS: She's a double agent, Senator. A CIA asset, working undercover as an operative of SD-6.

(Sydney runs through a forest, constantly looking back over her shoulder.)

(Meeting.)
EVANS: Last week we came into possession of that drawing from a manuscript belonging to Milo Rambaldi.
TOWNSEND: Rambaldi. Ms. Evans, we've been all over this.

(Sydney runs. Dogs barking, men shouting behind her. Coming closer. She runs faster.)

(Meeting.)
EVANS: Look at the partially decoded text, Senator. It's written by Rambaldi in reference to that woman in the drawing.
(Townsend reads it.)

(Man shouting, dogs barking, Sydney running. She scrambles over a fallen tree as they shoot at her. She runs and runs. At the edge of the cliff, she yanks on a rope on her backpack and jumps off. A parachute inflates. Sydney floats above the Cristo Redentor.)

(Meeting.)
EVANS: Sir, I understand your reluctance to invest our resources in this matter but I strongly suggest--
(Townsend looks up from the text he was reading, his face serious.)
TOWNSEND: Dr. Evans. What do you need?

(Los Angeles. Sydney sits in a park, writing on a paper bag to Vaughn.)
SYDNEY: (voice over) Vaughn, I'm back from Brazil. I did what SD-6 wanted - got surveillance photos of someone they think might be The Man.
(She walks and throws the paper bag in a garbage can.)
SYDNEY: (voice over) I'll forward them to you as usual and wait for further instructions.

(Vaughn walks in his office to see various people, including Dr. Evans, rifling through his desk and file cabinets.)
VAUGHN: Who the hell are you?
EVANS: Carson Evans, DSR. We have authorization.
(She shows him a piece of paper.)

(Devlins' office. Vaughn shows him the same piece of paper.)
VAUGHN: The National Security Agency's investigating Bristow?
DEVLIN: The Department of Special Research, yes.
VAUGHN: Off the book, paranormal guys, because her picture was in a manuscript?
DEVLIN: That's special access only.
VAUGHN: I'm Sydney's case officer!
DEVLIN: The loop is closed on this on orders from the DCI himself.
VAUGHN: I don't care who issued the order. If the NSA knows something, I should, too. (corrects himself) We should, sir.
(Devlin looks at him.)
VAUGHN: Unless you already do.
DEVLIN: Close the door.

(Sydney drives up to the self-storage facility and walks in to see Vaughn.)
SYDNEY: I got your message. If this is about the surveillance photos, I encoded them onto jpegs.
VAUGHN: Forget the surveillance photos.
SYDNEY: The ones that might identify The Man? The ones I nearly got eaten by a pack of dogs, trying to get?
VAUGHN: You're being investigated by the DSR.
SYDNEY: DSR?
VAUGHN: Department of Special Research. And it was created during World War II to investigate Nazi interest in the occult. After the war, an executive order was signed, empowering them to investigate fringe science, uh, parapsychology, remote viewing--
SYDNEY: What do they want with me?
VAUGHN: They want to know why your picture is in the Rambaldi book. No, I know it seems ridiculous.
SYDNEY: It is ridiculous.
VAUGHN: But your picture--
SYDNEY: A picture. Not mine.
VAUGHN: Yeah, well, they don't think so.
SYDNEY: They're wrong.
VAUGHN: Look, they took my files. Everything I have concerning you. Now, at our next scheduled debriefing, they're going to bring you in for questioning. I just wanted to give you a heads-up.
SYDNEY: This drawing is five hundred years old. Millions of women have looked like that. My mom looked like that. Maybe it's a picture of my mother.
VAUGHN: Well, they don't think so. Your mother is dead and they have reason to believe the woman in this picture is still alive.
SYDNEY: I don't understand.
VAUGHN: DSR partially decoded text from that page.
SYDNEY: And? What did it say?
VAUGHN: Well, they didn't tell me, but apparently Rambaldi refers to future dates indicating this woman is still alive. The DSR is referring to this text by name. They're calling it "The Prophecy."

(In a room with three doctors, Sydney sits at a table.)
EVANS: I want to stress, at the outset, that this is not an interrogation. You are not the subject of a criminal inquiry. Our purpose is siimply to gather background information and I'd like to note for the record how much we appreciate your cooperation in this matter. Do you have any questions?
SYDNEY: Yes. Just one. Are you really not going to tell me what this prophecy says?
EVANS: I think we've been over that.
SYDNEY: Yes, we have. Just not to my satisfaction.
EVANS: Dr. Waterson?
WATERSON: Yes. Agent Bristow...
SYDNEY: Sydney's fine.
WATERSON: Question one: What would be the next picture in this series?
(She has a laptop in front of her. Various diagrams are shown.)
SYDNEY: "D."
WATERSON: Study this figure.
(Sydney watches them write on notepads in front of them at her answer. Dr. Evans is leaning over the table, writing furiously.)
WATERSON: If it was rotated a hundred and eighty degrees, it would look like which of the following?
SYDNEY: "C."
WATERSON: What is the next image in this series?
(Behind the mirror, Vaughn stands, watching Sydney. Various monitors - one showing only Sydney's eyes - are around. An agent sits at a desk, monitoring the interrogation. Haladki enters.)
HALADKI: Mmm. Love this tech stuff.
VAUGHN: Haladki?
(Haladki motions to the monitor showing Sydney's eyes.)
HALADKI: It's like a thermometer. Heat form their eyes tracks brain patterns.
VAUGHN: Hey, what are you doing here?
HALADKI: My department got tapped to facilitate interagency cooperation.
SYDNEY: "Q" and "7".
WATERSON: You're in a forest. You come to a river. Do you cross it?
(She watches them write. Evans crosses something out and writes something else.)
WATERSON: Agent Bristow? Would you cross it?
SYDNEY: I don't know. It depends.
(Behind the mirror, Vaughn sighs, worried.)
HALADKI: Gentlemen, if you need anything, I'll be in my office.
(Ink blots. Sydney answers their questions, her chin propped up in her hand. Waterson asks another question. Dr. Evans watches and writes. Dr. Waterson lights another cigarette. Sydney answers more questions. They write. Vaughn watches anxiously. A picture is up on the monitor from the '50s, of a woman and younger girl in a kitchen with a mixing bowl and pie crusts around them.)
WATERSON: What is going on in this picture?
SYDNEY: The mother is teaching the girl how to bake.
WATERSON: And what feeling does this picture invoke?
SYDNEY: The girl doesn't like it. She wants to go out and play.
(Evans writes. Vaughn takes off his jacket and throws it down. Haladki enters with a file.)
HALADKI: We need to cut this short.
VAUGHN: What is it?
HALADKI: Sorry. "Need to know" only.
(He whispers to the agent sitting at the desk. In the interrogation room, a large agent enters with the file and shows Waterson and Evans. Haladki watches.)
EVANS: Would you be willing to come with us, please?
SYDNEY: Why?
EVANS: We have some physical examination we need to do.
SYDNEY: Excuse me?
DOCTOR: General tests. An MRI, lumbar puncture, blood work--
VAUGHN: (to Haladki) What the hell's going on?
SYDNEY: No, no, I don't think so.
EVANS: Agent Bristow.
DOCTOR: It would be better for you to submit now.
SYDNEY: I have been nothing but cooperative! I have answered every question you've asked, no matter how ridiculous. But that's as far as this goes! You want to touch me, you have to tell me everything starting with what this prophecy says.
EVANS: I'm sorry. You don't have clearance for that information.
SYDNEY: You are wasting your time taking this Rambaldi thing so seriously. There are real threats in this world. I have work to do.
(She makes a move to leave but the large agent blocks her way.)
SYDNEY: You move out of my way or I will make you move out of my way.
(He looks at Evans over Sydney's shoulder. She nods. He moves.)
SYDNEY: Thank you.
(She walks out.)
HALADKI: But... they're just letting her leave?
(The door closes.)

(At Sydney and Francie's, Will sits at the counter eating a bowl of cereal and reading the paper.)
FRANCIE: Third row seats?
WILL: Yep. Behind the Lakers bench.
FRANCIE: Wait, wait, wait, wait. Near Kobe?
WILL: Yeah. A friend of mine in sports has a contact in the front office so he scored them, free of charge.
FRANCIE: I'm going to be sitting near Kobe Bryant?
WILL: Yes.
FRANCIE: Are you sure you're asking the right roommate?
(Francie nods her head toward Sydney's bedroom. Sydney opens the door and walks out to them.)
WILL: Look, as is sometimes painfully obvious, I know a little something about wanting something you can't have.
(Sydney comes out, takes Will's spoon and eats some of his cereal.)
WILL: So, for a couple of hours, you come with me and you forget about hating Charlie.
FRANCIE: Sounds good.
SYDNEY: Can I ask you guys something?
WILL: Yes.
SYDNEY: I had a dream last night about a fortune teller. He said he had a prophecy about me.
FRANCIE: What was it?
SYDNEY: I don't know, but that's the word he used -- prophecy. Does that sound good or bad?
WILL: Prophecy?
SYDNEY: Yeah.
WILL: Definitely bad.
FRANCIE: Yeah. Bad.
(Sydney looks worried.)
FRANCIE: Syd, who cares? It's just a dream.
SYDNEY: I know.
(She turns to Will.)
SYDNEY: Thanks for breakfast.
WILL: Mmm.
SYDNEY: See you, guys.
(She leaves.)

(SD-6 conference room with Sloane, Jack and Sydney.)
SLOANE: Using all available resources, we have finally tracked down the enemy who we no longer have to refer to as The Man. Thanks to the surveillance photos you obtained in Brazil, we have confirmed his identity. He is Alexander Khasinau.
JACK: Khasinau was the recepient of the Sark communique reporting on the loss of the Rambaldi manuscript.
SLOANE: Highly decorated former lieutenant colonel for the KGB, Khasinau went underground. He's long rumored to be a power broker for the Russian mafia in its affairs with rogue states in the international arms bazaar.
SYDNEY: So, we're up against the Russian mafia?
JACK: As a source of financing, maybe, but in terms of tactics, reach and sophistication, Khasinau's organization operates on an entirely different order of magnitude.
SYDNEY: So, what's next?
SLOANE: Nothing. After being identified, he moved his base of operations to an undisclosed location. He knows he's a target. The next move we make must be made with extreme caution.
SYDNEY: So, no mission?
SLOANE: Actually, I do have to ask you something. It's a personal favor. These last few days haven't been very good for Emily. When you came to the house, I hadn't seen her spirits that high in a long time. So, if you wouldn't mind calling her or perhaps paying a visit, saying hello...
SYDNEY: Of course.
SLOANE: Thank you. And when we know the right move to make with Mr. Khasinau, we'll make it.
(Jack and Sloane leave. They enter Sloane's office alone.)
SLOANE: I want Khasinau dead. The Alliance doesn't know what the hell it wants. They're having a meeting in London on Tuesday to resolve whether or not the Alliance should invest all the necessary resources to find and kill Khasinau.
JACK: It makes sense. Members from the old Soviet bloc still control five of the twelve votes. They're cold warriors who prefer the paradigm of detente. They'll likely reject going to war with Khasinau.
SLOANE: Those five men are cowards. All of them. Of the seven remaining members, there are only four that I know for certain who will vote in favor of aggressive action.
JACK: Essentially then, three men control the outcome of this vote.
SLOANE: Khasinau sent men into this facility. They stole from us. They killed some of us. There should be no vote in the first place.
JACK: What's your strategy?
SLOANE: Edward Poole oversees SD-9. He's one of the three swing votes. I'll start with him.

(Cell phone rings in Europe. Poole, Edward Poole answers the phone while sitting in a gazebo drinking tea.)
POOLE: Hello?
SLOANE: Edward.
POOLE: Arvin. Good to hear your voice.
SLOANE: Yes, Edward. You, too. You, too. How have you been?
POOLE: I think we've all been better. I'm seeing you on Tuesday?
SLOANE: As a matter of fact, Edward, that's why I'm calling you. Your position on Khasinau... am I right in assuming that you'll be supporting a declaration of war against him?
POOLE: I'm flattered you would think me so forgiving. But Khasinau must pay for what he's done, even if I have to take care of it myself.
SLOANE: Good. Glad to hear that. Unfortunately, the Alliance is nearly split on this issue. Now, as far as I'm aware, there are two swing votes left: Oscar Dunst and Jean Briault. So, Edward, it's up to you and me to take the appropriate action.
POOLE: What are you suggesting?
SLOANE: I have personally seen what Khasinau is capable of and I will not let his aggression go unanswered. So what I'm suggesting, Edward, is that we do whatever must be done to ensure that this declaration of war be ratified.
POOLE: Yes. I was going to wait and present this at the meeting...
SLOANE: What's that?
POOLE: Under the circumstances, I think I should come to Los Angeles. I have intel you should see.
SLOANE: Good.
POOLE: I'll be there in the morning.
SLOANE: Okay.

(At Sloane's, Emily and Sydney sit out in their garden. Flowers are everywhere. Sydney pours them some tea.)
EMILY: Arvin's such a sweetheart, asking you to look in like this.
SYDNEY: Well, I would've come anyway but I didn't want to bother you.
EMILY: Not at all. You know, I really liked meeting your friend, by the way. Will?
SYDNEY: (smiles) Yeah, he's a great guy.
EMILY: I think he thinks you're pretty great, too.
SYDNEY: He and I are just friends.
EMILY: He's cute.
SYDNEY: He is cute. I know it's been a while but I still feel guilty even talking about dating again.
EMILY: It must be especially hard, doing what you do.
(Sydney looks up, alarmed.)
SYDNEY: It... is. It's difficult sometimes.
EMILY: I mean working for my husband.
SYDNEY: Oh. Well...
EMILY: I know this has been difficult for Arvin. My illness. I look just like everyone else and I usually feel that way. The fact is, I won't be alive next Christmas.
SYDNEY: Don't say that. You don't know that.
EMILY: I do. For a long time, I ignored the pain but then one morning, over there, I... I collapsed. Woke up in the hospital. The doctor told me. Cancer. He said if I had seen him in the beginning, I probably could've survived. But there's a fear like nothing I've ever felt before. It comes over you when you know that there's something really wrong.
(Sydney gets a flash of the Rambaldi drawing.)
EMILY: For four months, I did nothing. I was so terrified of what I did not know. I was so terrified that I was paralyzed.
(Sydney gets a flash of Evans, Waterson.)
EMILY: And the longer that went on, the more terrified I got. Wanting to know the truth but being too afraid to find the answers.

(CIA building. Sydney walks in and opens the door to the private meeting with Devlin and the other DSR agents.)
SYDNEY: Go ahead. Run all the tests you want.

(Sloane's office. Edward Poole sits in front of his desk.)
POOLE: What I'm about to tell you, you may find difficult to believe. Arvin, I know that, uh, Jean Briault is a friend.
SLOANE: Yes. He is a friend.
POOLE: A friend of yours, but not of the Alliance.
(He shows Sloane a surveillance photo of Briault and Khasinau walking together.)
POOLE: The other man in the photo is your friend Jean Briault.
SLOANE: This only menas that Khasinau and Briault know each other. There's nothing more.
(Poole opens a laptop and shows Sloane.)
POOLE: On the lef tis a brokerage account in the name of Briault's wife. On the right, a holding company that Khasinau uses to launder money. As you will see, five deposits in excess of forty-five million were made into the brokerage account in the past three months. Arvin, I would not hav emade this trip if I did not truly believe that Khasinau had infiltrated the Alliance and that Briault was in his pocket.
SLOANE: (stares at picture) No. I was in Chile with this man under Aliende. He recruited me.
POOLE: Yes, well, on the other hand Briault's always seemed a good man and he has served the Alliance well so maybe we should just... gamble, do nothing, just play it out and see what happens.
SLOANE: If this vote goes the wrong way because one of our members has been bought, it would mean the end of the Alliance.
POOLE: But Briault, as you know, is a famously cautious man.
SLOANE: A hit would have to be carried by someone who had access so that Briault would agree to meet alone. A friend.
POOLE: If a hit occurs, yes.
SLOANE: No. No. No. This can't be right. There's another explanation for this intel. So, I appreciate you coming here, this long way, with this information but... I can't believe that Jean Briault is a traitor.
POOLE: Ah. No one hopes you are right more than I.

(Meeting at the CIA. DSR and CIA agents gather around a long table.)
DEVLIN: I'd like to formally welcome to Los Angeles, our friends from Washington. I have always had a fascination with the work of the DSR and although, uh, interagency cooperation is notoriously problematic, I don't forsee any difficulties while you're wroking here in our office.
EVANS: I speak for everyone on our side when I say how much we appareciate your help in this matter. That said, let me pay you the courtesy of being blunt. To date, our request for files considerably more comprehensive than these have not been processed.
DEVLIN: Those requests, Miss Evans, are being assessed.
EVANS: The directive doesn't provide for assessments.
DEVLIN: I don't mind you coming here and working with us but to--
EVANS: Let's just be clear. You don't work with us. You work for us.
DEVLIN: To presume that you're in charge--we have protocols!
EVANS: The directive specifies--
DEVLIN: This is my office! Yes, the directive gives you the authority to take her into custody, but Sydney Bristow is well placed.
(Sydney is on her back, taking an MRI. She looks scared.)
DEVLIN: (voice over) And she has provided us with valuable intelligence!
(Back in the meeting.)
DEVLIN: Now, I understand this so-called "prophecy" is interesting.
(Sydney gets bloodwork done.)
DEVLIN: (voice over) And that these times require us to be vigilant against any perceived threats to our national security.
(Back in the meeting.)
DEVLIN: But let's take a step back for a second. This is a five-hundred year old text. And based on that text, we are treating Agent Bristow like a lab rat. Now, I am all for being prudent.
(Sydney rolls over on a hospital bed, on her stomach. A doctor wipes a spot on her lower back and inserts a very long needle. She gasps in pain.)
DEVLIN: (voice over) But what you are doing, the way we are doing it, is absurd! We should investigate, yes, but not persecute.
(Back in the meeding.)
HALADKI: Excuse me. I understand that dissenting right now might not be the right move for my career track, but I need to say something. Steven Haladki, ma'am, Domestic Resources division. For months, I've been worried about Bristow. At first, my concern was simply that her handler, Michael Vaughn, was too emotionally involved, to which I still contest. But then I started getting concerned about Bristow herself. Look through her file. There are discrepancies. There are some significant questions. As an example, Bristow met with a Rambaldi disciple on the Alamfi coast at the exact time his death was prophesised. Now, after reading what Rambaldi's written about Bristow, excuse me, but I am terrified!
DEVLIN: Haladki, you are assuming that prophecy is accurate and that he was referring to Bristow in the first place.
HALADKI: Sir, let's say Rambaldi was wrong or that he was right, and it wasn't Bristow he was talking about. Fantastic! But that's why we're testing her, to see if she's got the phsyical anomalies that Rambaldi mentioned in the prophecy. It's like "666," guys. You see the writing on the kid's scalp, you know there's some problems at home.

(At night, Sydney and Jack meet.)
SYDNEY: Thanks for coming.
JACK: Are you all right? I heard about the testing.
SYDNEY: This prophecy. Do you know anything about it? What it says?
JACK: No. But the DSR was close to a panic when they had only half of it deciphered. They cracked the rest of it this morning.
SYDNEY: That's what I wanted to ask. They need a code key. Do they have the right one?
JACK: The DSR spent years trying to decipher Rambaldi's work. The key they're using is one they reverse engineered.
SYDNEY: If the DSR is misreading the text, they're going to take me into custody. Which would blow my cover with SD-6. And probably yours.
JACK: You want Rambaldi's original code key.
SYDNEY: If it exists.
JACK: It does. But the agency won't go after it... for political reasons.
SYDNEY: Dad, what does that mean?
JACK: The code key is in the Vatican.

(Jack and Devlin in Devlin's office.)
JACK: Think about what this means for Sydney!
DEVLIN: I understand that!
JACK: Then doing nothing shouldn't be an option!
DEVLIN: You're asking me to authorize an op that goes deliberately against the DSR's work!
JACK: Then clasify it as recon!
DEVLIN: Langley won't approve that!
JACK: The DSR is being irresponsible and overreactive!
DEVLIN: One thing you don't have to do is attack the DSR. Those bastards have just about taken over this office.
JACK: Then this is the chance to prove them wrong!
DEVLIN: Langley is watching us closely.
JACK: Ben, it's a discretionary op. You're arguing semantics with me!
(He softens a little.)
JACK: If she weren't my daughter, Ben, I probably wouldn't be fighting for this. I understand this prophecy is special access but those who have it might be misreading that text. I'd go myself, but Sloane's headed to London and I'm overseeing operations at SD-6 while he's away. I don't have to tell you what an opportunity that is. So, Ben, I need your help on this.

(Sloane's house. In their bedroom, at night. Sloane and Emily are in bed. Emily's arm is thrown across Sloane's body. She's sleeping peacefully, but he's wide awake, staring straight ahead. Moving Emily's arm off of him, Sloane gets out of bed and moves downstairs into a study. He picks up the phone and dials.)
POOLE: Hello?
SLOANE: Edward. It's Arvin.
POOLE: Any news?
SLOANE: We can't risk Briault. Please don't talk about this with anyone. Don't share your intel.
POOLE: All right.
SLOANE: I've decided to take care of our problem myself.
POOLE: I understand.
(Sloane hangs up. He rests his head on top of his arms, looking sad and alone.)

(Self-storage.)
VAUGHN: You're going to break into the Vatican?
SYDNEY: The last thing I'm going to do while DSR is waiting for test results to prove I'm guilty of something I don't even understand is sit on my ass.
VAUGHN: But the Vatican?
SYDNEY: The secret archives. All I have is an inventory number. They don't know the form the code key is in and it's Rambaldi, so it could be anything. I called you because I need a parnter for this op. Someone I can trust.
VAUGHN: We'd have to fly out separately, undercover...
SYDNEY: Different airports in Italy.
VAUGHN: Meet up in Rome.
SYDNEY: We'd have to leave tonight. You in?
VAUGHN: (shy smile) Yeah. I'll break into the Vatican with you.

(Francie and Sydney's. Francie applies some make-up.)
FRANCIE: Did you know his parents named him after steak? Kobe. They saw it on a Japanese menu.
SYDNEY: No, I didn't know that.
FRANCIE: He's the perfect guy for someone like me. Plays ball, and is named after food.
(Will pokes his head in the bedroom door.)
WILL: You know what would be excellent about leaving tonight? Is that we might actually get to see some of the game.
FRANCIE: I'm not going half-done.
WILL: She's obsessed.
SYDNEY: (smiles) You think?
WILL: So, um, did that thing come true? The dream?
FRANCIE: The prophecy?
SYDNEY: Not yet. I got to go. I got to make my plane. Have a great time at the game and I'll see you guys when I get back.
WILL: Where's the world of international corporate banking take you to this time?
(Pause.)
SYDNEY: Boston.

(In Rome, a van pulls up and Vaughn and Sydney climb out, wearing matching jumpsuits. They're posing as repairmen... repairwomen. Repairpeople. They go inside where a woman is singing opera in Italian and an old woman is instructing her. Vaughn and Sydney walk in but the old woman stops them and talk to them in Italian. Sydney talks back to her in Italian about the repairs. They start walking again but the woman stops them. Vaughn talks to her in Italian and she lets them go inside. They go down some stairs quickly.)
VAUGHN: So, I was thinking, we're in Rome which is the same city as Trattoria de Nardi.
SYDNEY: What's that?
VAUGHN: Well, it's my favorite restaurant in the world.
SYDNEY: Yeah?
VAUGHN: Yeah.
(Vaughn welds open a piece of the wall and removes it. They crawl inside and go down some stairs. They're walking down a tunnel with flashlights.)
SYDNEY: So why is Trattoria de Nardi so good?
VAUGHN: Well, it's only good if you like food.
SYDNEY: Hey, did you know Kobe Bryant was named for a steak?
VAUGHN: Yeah, actually, I did. Hey, you said the explosion will trigger the alarm...
SYDNEY: Which is on a fifteen second delay.
VAUGHN: And you said you could disarm it under twenty seconds. How far under twenty?
SYDNEY: I work better under pressure.
(They get out the explosives. Sydney sets it up.)
VAUGHN: So, I was thinking, later tonight when we get the code key, maybe we can check it out?
SYDNEY: What, the restaurant?
VAUGHN: Yeah. Well, it's almost too good not to.
SYDNEY: Unless SD-6 spots us there and has us killed.
VAUGHN: Well, the food's so good it's almost worth the risk.
(Sydney punches in some numbers on the explosives.)
SYDNEY: Okay, it's set. Let's go.
(They run a little way down, behind a wall and hide. Sydney clicks a button on the trigger.)
SYDNEY: Ready?
(Vaughn wraps his arm around her and shields her head from the blast. The explosion goes off. They move inside and move through the archives. They open a panel and Sydney disarms the alarm by cutting a couple of wires. They run through the room, looking through the various boxes. She sees the door with the right inventory number on it and they start taking off the door with the screws. When they remove it, they see it's a painting.)
SYDNEY: This is Pope Alexander VI. Rambaldi was his chief architect. Rambaldi made habit of hiding his real work in ordinary things. The code is hidden in this painting.
VAUGHN: We don't have time. We'll take it with us.
(He takes out a knife and is about to cut it. Sydney's eyes get wide.)
SYDNEY: Wait a minute. Give me the flashlight.
(She inspects the painting closer and sees some writing on the frame.)
SYDNEY: (reading) "Beginning with the eleventh letter, three rows of sixteen along the x axis and then another..." This is it. This is the code key.
VAUGHN: All right. I got it.
(He takes out a camera and starts taking pictures of the frame. They hear the door opening. Vaughn walks out and the guard stops him with a gun. The guard radios for help. Vaughn puts his hands up. Sydney comes from behind him and kicks him. She elbows him in the head.)
SYDNEY: He was sending for back-up. We gotta move.

(SD-6. Sloane's office with Jack.)
JACK: I understand Poole was here. Is he with us?
SLOANE: Where the hell is Sydney?
JACK: I believe she's at the university.
SLOANE: We just got word from Kleinhoff in Munich. There's a counterfeit page in Rambaldi's manuscript.
JACK: Counterfeit?
SLOANE: That's right. Page forty-seven. There's nothing on it. We had it tested. Doesn't match any of the other pages in the manuscript. Now, the number forty-seven had special significance for Rambaldi. In all his writings, page forty-seven had critical information on it. And I want to know why we don't have that page.
JACK: I'll tell Sydney when she comes in.
SLOANE: Her school is a liability, Jack.
JACK: She's familiar with your opinion. Her education is important to her.
SLOANE: Your daughter needs to re-examine her priorities.
JACK: You're leaving for London a day earlier than expected.
SLOANE: I believe we have the necessary votes. When I get back the Alliance will officially be at war with Khasinau. I want you to follow u with Kleinhoff while I'm gone. I want to know what happened to that page.
JACK: Done.
SLOANE: Tell Sydney that she and I need to talk.

(In a Montreal park, Briault waits by a fountain. Sloane watches from behind some bushes with a gun and silencer in his hand. He hides the gun in his coat and walks out to greet him. The men hug and speak in French for a bit.)
SLOANE: Look at us, Je