[Hepburn and Garcia share a look. Then, as Hepburn looks back to Lindianne:]
Hell, Agent, you of all people should know. The whole city gives you pause. Something wrong with you if it doesn't.
[Garcia picks it up:]
This many displaced persons on the island, everything's out of place and nobody's where they're supposed to be.
[He shrugs, taking another drag on his cigarette.]
I get what you're asking, though. But the answer's still no. It's like sending patrols out into a ghost town.
[Garcia takes another drag on his cigarette, motions to the COPs around them.]
Look around you. Our COPs have a commanding view of most of the roads leading into midtown, and what they can't get eyes on, we rig with motion sensors and tripwire flares. I don't doubt we're losing people, ma'am. I just don't think they're slipping past us.
[One of the junior sergeants, his nametape reading ERICS, clears his throat.]
Hey, sir-
[Hepburn isn't annoyed, but he's getting there.] Yeah?
[Erics continues.] What about that guy Third Herd brought in with them yesterday?
[Hepburn snorts.] Oh, yeah, him. [To Lindianne:] Third Platoon came back early from patrolling the Upper West Side the other day, brought in a civilian they thought was creeping on them, scouting them out. Slavic guy in ratty jeans and a coat he probably stole off someone else.
[Garcia:] We tried interrogating him, but all we got back was a bunch of "no English". Maybe some Russian or Ukrainian, too, couldn't tell which. [Another shrug.] We couldn't do anything with him, so we handed him over to Kandel. Far as I know, she's still got him cooling off in the locker.
[It's the "Quarantine and Isolation Ward" to Kandel and Kandel alone. Everyone else just calls it "the locker".
Hepburn shrugs.] I know you want more, Agent, but that guy's all I've got. You want intelligence, you're in the wrong place.
[Garcia chuckles and Erics joins in as they drag on their cigarettes, looking around at all the grunts doing work - filling still more sandbags and HESCOs, swearing and bitching to each other about the cold, conducting MRE trades in the foulest language imaginable.] Yeah, you're really in the wrong place.
[Panther's all smiles as he comes out of the interview room in the wake of the JTF railyard op. "Vegas is in there with him," he says, motioning to the goon on the other side of the glass. "He speaks the best Russian out of any of us. Just give it some time, Mother."]
no subject
Hell, Agent, you of all people should know. The whole city gives you pause. Something wrong with you if it doesn't.
[Garcia picks it up:]
This many displaced persons on the island, everything's out of place and nobody's where they're supposed to be.
[He shrugs, taking another drag on his cigarette.]
I get what you're asking, though. But the answer's still no. It's like sending patrols out into a ghost town.
[Garcia takes another drag on his cigarette, motions to the COPs around them.]
Look around you. Our COPs have a commanding view of most of the roads leading into midtown, and what they can't get eyes on, we rig with motion sensors and tripwire flares. I don't doubt we're losing people, ma'am. I just don't think they're slipping past us.
[One of the junior sergeants, his nametape reading ERICS, clears his throat.]
Hey, sir-
[Hepburn isn't annoyed, but he's getting there.] Yeah?
[Erics continues.] What about that guy Third Herd brought in with them yesterday?
[Hepburn snorts.] Oh, yeah, him. [To Lindianne:] Third Platoon came back early from patrolling the Upper West Side the other day, brought in a civilian they thought was creeping on them, scouting them out. Slavic guy in ratty jeans and a coat he probably stole off someone else.
[Garcia:] We tried interrogating him, but all we got back was a bunch of "no English". Maybe some Russian or Ukrainian, too, couldn't tell which. [Another shrug.] We couldn't do anything with him, so we handed him over to Kandel. Far as I know, she's still got him cooling off in the locker.
[It's the "Quarantine and Isolation Ward" to Kandel and Kandel alone. Everyone else just calls it "the locker".
Hepburn shrugs.] I know you want more, Agent, but that guy's all I've got. You want intelligence, you're in the wrong place.
[Garcia chuckles and Erics joins in as they drag on their cigarettes, looking around at all the grunts doing work - filling still more sandbags and HESCOs, swearing and bitching to each other about the cold, conducting MRE trades in the foulest language imaginable.] Yeah, you're really in the wrong place.
[Panther's all smiles as he comes out of the interview room in the wake of the JTF railyard op. "Vegas is in there with him," he says, motioning to the goon on the other side of the glass. "He speaks the best Russian out of any of us. Just give it some time, Mother."]