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319. Any Means Necessary
Written by Lawrence Hertzog
Transcribed by Jean
COMM
Birkoff swivels and rolls his chair from one computer to another. A mission is live in the field; people move quietly but with purpose in the background while Birkoff provides the team with location information.
OPERATIVE: (via com) Request specific target position.
BIRKOFF: I’m increasing resolution now. You’re about one kilometer from the center of the substation. It looks like they’ve got about a dozen operatives out there. They’re splitting to the north and the northeast, probably hoping to close ranks behind you.
Greg Hillinger is seated at his own computer, back to. He turns and looks over his shoulder at Birkoff, keeping track of what is going on.
OPERATIVE: (via com) As long as you have visual, we’ll let them close. If they think they have the drop on us, we’ll have the advantage.
Birkoff looks up at the overhead monitor. A colorful graphic shows locations of enemies, buildings, Section operatives.
BIRKOFF: Movement at one o’clock.
GREG: They’re changing pattern, there’s twenty more of them.
BIRKOFF: There’s more of them than we thought. Move out.
The sounds of gunfire and shouts issue from the audio transmission. A female can be heard yelling “Move out!” Operations is watching closely from his glass box.
Suddenly, electronic alarms sound. Time slows as the visual in-streaming information is lost in a jumble of incomprehensible static.
GREG: Birkoff, you know you’ve got --
BIRKOFF: (brushes him off) I know what I’m doing.
Operations comes down to see what the matter is.
OPERATIONS: What’s going on?
OPERATIVE: (via com) Birkoff? Birkoff, I need position.
Birkoff puts his hands to his temples, thinking hard.
GREG: You have to recycle the program.
BIRKOFF: Back off!
GREG: (looks to Operations) Sir, I can do this.
OPERATIONS: Birkoff. (time slows again and Birkoff turns his head to look at Operations, incredulous) Surrender your post. (Birkoff stares in shock) Now.
OPERATIVE: (via com) Birkoff? I need positions!
Birkoff and Greg lock gazes in a fixating stare as they slowly circle one another. Birkoff moves aside and Greg sits in his chair.
GREG: Go to the satellite uplink, now. (Birkoff frowns faintly at him, processing what he’s doing. The overhead monitor shows “video restored”) Team one, go to the north. Daniel, you’ve got a flank coming in at five o’clock, there’s a smaller group at eleven, but further out. Take the group at five, then proceed to eleven.
OPERATIVE: (via com) We’ve got them. They’re moving out.
Birkoff stares out of the corner of his eyes at Greg.
GREG: They’re retreating. (Greg blows on the end of his fingers, smug)
OPERATIVE: (via com) We’ve secured the base. What are the orders?
OPERATIONS: Cancel all remaining targets. Eliminate the physical plant.
OPERATIVE: (via com) Yes sir. Hillinger…thanks.
OPERATIONS: Yes Mr. Hillinger, good work. Birkoff. My office, five minutes.
Operations walks away. Birkoff moves closer to Greg.
BIRKOFF: (watching Operations’ retreating back over Greg’s head) How did you know we had a satellite uplink established? (shifts his gaze to Greg) I didn’t set it up. It’s not likely that it happened on its own.
GREG: You have a point to make?
BIRKOFF: (moves closer, threatening) This isn’t a game. Those are our people out there. Their lives are on the line.
GREG: Well then it was lucky for them that I was here. (Birkoff continues looking at him, absorbing the insults without reaction) You better go, Seymour. You don’t want to be late for your…(shrugs) meeting.
Birkoff leaves, angry but silent.
SYSTEMS
Operations stands looking out on Section. Birkoff enters from behind and stops about five paces back.
OPERATIONS: (continues looking out) Not your finest hour.
BIRKOFF: Sir, I can explain. I think --
OPERATIONS: (interrupts) You think? The time for thinking is before things go wrong. (Birkoff looks down, ashamed) I’m going to assign Hillinger to your post.
BIRKOFF: (head snaps up, alarmed) Sir, if I could just --
OPERATIONS: (turns around) No. I have other plans for you. I’m sending you out.
BIRKOFF: (frowns, incredulous) In the field?!
OPERATIONS: That’ll be all.
Operations turns dismissively and tends so a panel, soft electronic beeping the only sound.
Hands on hips, still stunned, Birkoff stares then leaves.
WAR ROOM
Five people sit at the table: Birkoff, an operative, Michael, and Walter. Greg is seated next to Walter at the very end of the table. The holo-imager shows a picture of a dark haired man.
OPERATIONS: This man, Jean-Marc Rousseau, runs a small but highly effective cult of terrorists. They call themselves Soldats de la Liberte.
MICHAEL: Their manifesto?
OPERATIONS: Anti-government. Anything to do with the establishment. But his ideology’s a ruse. Jean-Marc is a political mercenary; his services are for sale to the highest bidder.
WALTER: (looks at the flashing images) They’re practically kids.
OPERATIONS: He likes them young and vulnerable. He employs conventional cult brainwashing techniques; poor diet, fatigue…then he creates a sense of belonging.
While Operations lays down the background history of this mission, Birkoff and Greg exchange looks. Resentment and overconfidence clash in the air between them. The holo-imager continues showcasing the young recruits of Rousseau, glowing blue text, and a spinning globe.
OPERATIONS: Makes them feel like they matter. Recruits heavily on the Internet; in fact his operation relies upon a sophisticated computer network. Given the quality of their intelligence, they have caused considerable damage. Birkoff…is going to be our man on the inside.
WALTER: (disbelieving) Birkoff?
OPERATIONS: I need someone on the inside who truly knows what he’s doing.
WALTER: But do you think he’s qualified to do field work?
OPERATIONS: Computers are their lifeline to the world. That…makes him qualified.
WALTER: And if something goes wrong?
OPERATIONS: We’ll do everything in our power to make sure that that doesn’t…happen.
The imager goes off, the operatives slowly get up from the table and scatter; Michael first, silently and Greg last, smug satisfaction oozing from his face.
SYSTEMS
Operations and Madeline stand parallel, looking down on Com.
MADELINE: (firmly) Birkoff’s not ready.
OPERATIONS: He’ll have to be.
MADELINE: And if he fails?
OPERATIONS: It’s a chance I’ll have to take.
MADELINE: Failure rate for an operative of his status is eighty percent. (she faces him abruptly to emphasize her point)
OPERATIONS: Well then I guess he’ll have to beat the odds.
COMM
Nikita and Birkoff walk together toward Comm. Birkoff is talking quickly.
BIRKOFF: Operations knows I’m not ready for this, Nikita. There’s more to it than just wanting somebody on the inside. This is about something else.
Nikita gestures him to one side of a short access hall just outside Comm; she takes the other, giving them a few moments of relative privacy to speak. They wait a beat as an operative passes between them.
NIKITA: He must have a reason.
BIRKOFF: (sarcastically) Yeah, has it occurred to you that I might be his reason?
NIKITA: Why, what do you mean?
BIRKOFF: (angrily animated) Abeyance. He sends me in there, I screw up. And any way it goes down, either they take me down or Michael’s sent in to finish up…(he impatiently holds his tongue as two people walk between them) Or Michael is sent in to finish a botched job -- me included.
NIKITA: You really believe that?
BIRKOFF: He knows Hillinger can do my job. I’m nothing but a disappointment to him.
NIKITA: He doesn’t like Hillinger.
BIRKOFF: Operations likes anyone who spins the world in his direction; you know him, it’s not a personality contest.
NIKITA: Yeah, but Hillinger? Come on.
BIRKOFF: Hillinger smells blood. He’ll do whatever he can to finish the job.
They watch Greg from the alcove as he works in Birkoff’s position, com unit in ear.
NIKITA: I can watch Hillinger.
BIRKOFF: Okay. But…can you watch me, too? Operations wants me to infiltrate their circle by hacking into their system and leaving a bridge.
APARTMENT
Birkoff is in an apartment. High ceilings, spare furnishings, books and clutter on the floor convey a cold, empty space. He sits in front of a computer, looking at the main recruitment website of Soldats de la Liberte. He has hacked his way to a password field and has now stopped, stumped at what that password might be.
BIRKOFF: (impatiently to himself) Come on. What do I know about this guy? Born: Lyons, 1959. Parents: Blah-blah, blah…graduated the Sorbonne, two brothers and a sister. “Tragedy that has been considered by most to have been a turning point; at 21 his young wife, Marie-Claire, was killed by soldiers during a demonstration outside the Hague. Two years after the incident, Jean-Marc Rousseau went into seclusion before emerging as the leader of the organization Soldats de la Liberte.” It’s worth a shot.
Birkoff enters ‘Marie-Claire’ in the field and gains access to the system.
SOLDATS DE LA LIBERTE HEADQUARTERS
Rousseau is giving an impassioned speech from a balcony. He is imposing in his ardor. The walls are red and sport logos of the cult as well. Below, the room is filled with scruffy young men and women, listening raptly.
ROUSSEAU: To achieve their way of life, their infertile existence, the outside world chooses faceless, spineless bureaucrats to do their bidding. And by doing this, they throw all sane and proper means to the wind. Honor! Integrity! The basic tenets of human dignity.
While Rousseau speaks, Mia and Rueben are roused by something on the laptop Rueben operates.
ROUSSEAU: We must fight these elected leaders with the swords that they themselves have chosen. For the savior of human dignity must prevail if we are to survive. Honor! Integrity! Honor! Integrity!
His followers take up the chant. Suddenly, at some unseen signal, they stand silent; eyes closed…and then quietly disperse. Mia, an attractive young woman, walks up the stairs to Rousseau only after this silent affirmation.
MIA: Reuben says somebody’s accessed our system from the outside.
ROUSSEAU: Has he traced it?
They look at Rueben as he types on his laptop.
MIA: He’s working on it now.
ROUSSEAU: Find the source. You know what needs to be done.
STREET – OUTSIDE APARTMENT
Birkoff exits the building and walks along the sidewalk. He passes a young couple, arm in arm. As soon as he passes them, they turn and follow him to the street corner. A truck waits there. Suddenly, the man behind him grabs Birkoff as two more men emerge from the van. In the scuffle that erupts, Birkoff is restrained as one of the men punches him in the gut. He grunts and is shoved into the back of the truck. The back is secured and the vehicle roars off. [Note: In the scene where bad guys are dragging Birkoff into the back of the van, two shots are cut together. It looks like a very small error when one second he is nearly in the back of the van; a split second later, from another angle, he’s further out, then dragged back, thrown in, and driven away.]
SOLDAT DE LA LIBERTE HEADQUARTERS
Birkoff is confined to a yellow room. It has tall, arched windows and a raised dais at one end. Scenes cut, showing the passage of time. Birkoff paces, looks out the window where shooting drills are taking place. Greg sits at Birkoff’s post back in Section, Operations lurking over his shoulder. Birkoff continues to stew in silence, sometimes laying down, sometimes sitting while tapping his bare feet. Finally, the young woman, Mia, enters. Birkoff pulls himself up from a prone position and leans wearily on the wall.
Mia smiles, walks to the dais and sits at the edge.
BIRKOFF: (staring into space) When do I get out of here?
MIA: Who do you work for?
BIRKOFF: (he frowns, pained, as if plagued with a headache) I told you.
MIA: You told me you work in a library. I don’t believe you. Who do you work for? (then, with a hardened tone) Who’s your boss?
BIRKOFF: (looks at her, speaks defiantly but without heat) Who’s yours?
Mia gets up and sits next to Birkoff on the black vinyl mat that serves for a bed.
MIA: Why did you try accessing our system? (she takes a fistful of his black overcoat and tugs, almost affectionately)
BIRKOFF: (stares at her, then turns his head and looks back into space) I want to get out of here.
Mia gets up, walks away, and knocks on the door. Rousseau enters.
MIA: He won’t change his story.
ROUSSEAU: Well, maybe that’s because he’s telling the truth. (Mia leaves) Come. (he extends a hand to Birkoff) I think it’s time we got you out of here.
Birkoff raises his head, almost hopeful.
ROUSSEAU’S OFFICE
Obviously part of the same building with the same wood trim and arched windows, Rousseau’s office is strewn about with crates of weapons and other terrorist clutter. He sits behind a large wooden desk in a leather-upholstered wooden chair. Among the casual disarray is a bowl of fruit on the desk. Birkoff sits in a straight-back wooden chair in front of the desk, facing him. Birkoff is tired. Hungry. Unhappy. Rousseau slices pieces of apple with a pearl-handled knife and eats.
ROUSSEAU: Do I understand this…correctly? You work in the mission district…library. At home, in your spare time, you’re something of a computer enthusiast. (he gets up, apple and knife still in hand) And breaking into our system was…(chews, swallows) mm…just a form of recreation? No harm meant.
BIRKOFF: No. It was just to see if I could do it.
ROUSSEAU: Well, I applaud you -- you’re very good. I don’t know much about these things, but I’m told that our security is excellent. Your skills clearly exceed our excellence.
Rousseau throws an apple into the wastebasket; Birkoff watches it bounce among the trash.
BIRKOFF: (softly) How long are you going to keep me here?
ROUSSEAU: Hmmm…I’m afraid I don’t exactly know the answer to that at the moment. But I think, given that your activities were harmless rather than malicious, that I might be able to make things a little more comfortable for you while you’re here.
BIRKOFF: But I’m still a prisoner.
Rousseau circles the desk and sits on the corner nearest Birkoff.
ROUSSEAU: A guest. (Birkoff looks at him) Let me propose something to you. You beat my system. That makes you better than the man who designed it. Since you seem so interested in getting into it, would you do me the favor of looking it over? Maybe make some suggestions on how we could make it more secure?
While he speaks, Birkoff stares at the various objects on the desk: the knife, the fruit.
BIRKOFF: Well, I think the problem is that your traps are much too basic. You have a primitive login and your firewalls are much too easy to get around.
ROUSSEAU: Mm. I’m afraid you’re getting over my head. I’ll tell you what -- I’ll introduce you to Reuben and maybe you could give him some lessons on how to do things correctly.
Rousseau circles back behind the desk and pushes the bowl of fruit forward. Birkoff unerringly snatches up the apple perched at the top and bites deep. Rousseau resettles in his chair and watches the younger man eat, pleased with the interview’s outcome.
SOLDAT DE LA LIBERTE - MAIN AREA
Many young people are about; some using the many computers, some comparing weapons. Rousseau and Birkoff enter. Rousseau goes over to Reuben and Birkoff follows, stopping and leaning against the table behind Reuben.
ROUSSEAU: Reuben, this is Mr. Birkoff.
REUBEN: (turns) Hey.
ROUSSEAU: The man who broke your security system. Mr. Birkoff’s been kind enough to impart some of his expertise. Why don’t you give him your seat?
Reuben types several keystrokes, then reluctantly stands, moving out of the way. Birkoff comes forward and sits down slowly, the lack of food and sleep telling. He squints and leans close to the monitor, myopic without his glasses. Rousseau watches him carry on for a moment, then produces his glasses from his breast pocket and offers them to Birkoff. He slides them on, then begins to work in earnest.
BIRKOFF: Your firewalls really need a lot of work. But if we can stagger them the right way, we can create a series of traps that’s almost impossible to break.
Rousseau nods to Rueben, who comes forward, then leaves the two younger men to their work
COMM
Greg Hillinger sucks on a lollipop; Operations comes up.
OPERATIONS: What is it?
GREG: (off-hand) Oh, it’s Birkoff. Says he’s got something.
OPERATIONS: Birkoff?
BIRKOFF: (lying on the mat that is his bed, whispering) They’ve asked me to help them with their computer security. They’ve been watching me pretty closely but I was able to get a quick look inside their system.
Flash back to Section.
OPERATIONS: And?
BIRKOFF: (via com) From what I can see, the organization is not as independent as they claim to be. They have ties right into the heart of Red Cell.
OPERATIONS: Are you sure about this?
BIRKOFF: (via com) As sure as I can be. They’re networked into Red Cell’s computer security. Knowing how good Red Cell’s security measures are, it’s unlikely that they hacked their way in. (flash back to Birkoff’s prison) If we can confirm time and place for my pickup, I can be debriefed when I get back. (long pause) Sir?
Flash to Section.
OPERATIONS: Given this new information, I’m going to revise your mission status. I’m going to abort your pickup for the time being.
BIRKOFF: (via com) But sir --
OPERATIONS: No, you are much more useful to us on the inside at the moment. Stay with it, gain their confidence.
BIRKOFF: For how long?
Greg smirks as he listens.
OPERATIONS: I’ll get back to you with that information.
Flash to Birkoff. He punches the wall in helpless fury.
SOLDAT DE LA LIBERTE – MAIN AREA
Rousseau again speaks, continuing to bend his followers to his will. Birkoff stands among them.
ROUSSEAU: We raise our swords, the sword of freedom, the sword of truth. In truth there is unity. In unity there is strength. In strength there is power. Strength! Power! Strength! Power! Strength! Power!
The people below join the chant, raising guns or clenched fists. Birkoff glances at Mia, watches Rousseau, then slowly picks up a large automatic weapon. Mia watches him as he raises his eyes to Rousseau and joins the chant, gaining volume with each word until he is as loud as the others. Rousseau spreads his arms wide, silencing them all, then looks beatifically upon his masses.
MUNITIONS
Nikita walks briskly up to Walter. Walter is busy, as usual.
NIKITA: Hey Walter, have you seen Michael?
WALTER: (with only half of his attention) No, not today hon.
NIKITA: Birkoff’s pickup is scheduled for tonight, shouldn’t we be getting ready?
WALTER: (looks up from his task, she has his attention now) Didn’t Birkoff contact you?
NIKITA: No.
WALTER: They’ve changed his mission status, Nikita. They’re keeping him in.
NIKITA: When? Why?
WALTER: I don’t know the details. Seems he’s wired the organization into Red Cell. Operations wants him to stay indefinitely.
Walter shoots an annoyed look up at Systems. Operations and Madeline stand there, speaking to Michael.
NIKITA: (angrily) That’s insane! This was an information gathering assignment. Birkoff isn’t trained in this, he’s not going to be able to stay --
WALTER: (placating) Slow down, slow down, hon, look, you-you’re telling the wrong guy -- I’m on your side, remember?
Nikita continues to watch the glass box above.
NIKITA: (thoughtfully) It doesn’t make sense. If there is a tie to Red Cell, it’s time to get Birkoff out and send Michael in. (she faces the glass perch squarely, accusingly) He’s acting like he wants this to go badly.
Walter watches with her. Nikita leaves him, disturbed, then walks over to Comm and approaches Greg Hillinger.
NIKITA: What do you know about this?
GREG: About what?
Nikita circles Greg as he sits at a computer station.
NIKITA: The decision to keep Birkoff inside.
GREG: Well, his mission status was changed, that’s what I know.
NIKITA: (she makes this question a statement, a threat) You had nothing to do with that?
GREG: Moi? Nikita…
Nikita looks down, smiles, then glances quickly around, tracking just who is there.
NIKITA: (with amicable threat) Come here. (Greg looks at her, suspicious, unmoving) Come here. (Greg leans back, a nervous smirk in place. He can’t meet her eyes; instead he looks away. Nikita snatches him and pulls him to her, nose to nose, with a violent jerk.) If you had anything to do with this, and I mean anything, at all, you better grow eyes in the back of your head. (She releases him and walks away. Greg frowns, unmoving, thoughtful.)
SOLDATE DE LA LIBERTE – MAIN AREA
Reuben works on a computer, Birkoff seated next to him. Birkoff suddenly takes the keyboard from him and begins working, explaining as he goes. Reuben frowns and throws up his hands.
BIRKOFF: You see what happens if you center the traps like this?
REUBEN: Mmm-hmmm.
BIRKOFF: Even if someone manages to get through the outer lines, they just get caught up in a maze and sent around in circles.
REUBEN: (with reluctant admiration) Yeah, well you make it look pretty easy.
BIRKOFF: Yeah, well, that’s the hard part.
Mia walks up.
REUBEN: Hey.
MIA: Hey. (she leans on the table and speaks to Birkoff) You think I could pull you away from that thing long enough to talk to you?
Birkoff glances at Mia, then Reuben. Reuben shrugs, mildly annoyed.
REUBEN: I can handle it.
Birkoff gets up and leaves with Mia. Reuben reclaims his keyboard and picks up where Birkoff left off, working much slower.
Birkoff and Mia ascend a split staircase and pause on the landing.
MIA: (smiling) You’re looking happier…healthier.
BIRKOFF: (shrugs, smiles back) I guess I’m getting used to the food.
Mia chuckles, looks down, and then sobers.
MIA: I brought you up here because I wanted to apologize.
BIRKOFF: Apologize for what?
MIA: For not trusting you. You have to understand, the way we live here, it’s really hard to know who to trust and who not to trust. What we do here is really important to me. It’s everything I believe in, and yet, so many people seem to misunderstand. They make us out to be criminals. I truly believe they wouldn’t stop at anything to destroy us if they could. (she pauses) But that’s not you. (Mia lays her hand on the side of Birkoff’s head) And I’m sorry for thinking it was. (she lowers her hand to rest on his shoulder, gazing at him with feeling)
MICHAEL’S OFFICE
Nikita’s purposeful footfalls and the sound of the office door opening, closing precede her appearance. She stands, hands clasped behind her back, looking out the window until Michael operates his small keypad, insuring privacy. As soon as he hits the last number in the sequence, she turns around.
NIKITA: Birkoff’s mission’s been changed. Operations intends to keep him in there.
MICHAEL: I know.
NIKITA: You know? Well, what’s the plan then? How long does Operations intend to leave him in there?
MICHAEL: If he has to…years.
NIKITA: Well, that could destroy Birkoff.
MICHAEL: Red Cell can destroy us. (he gets up and stands by Nikita) If there’s a chance --
NIKITA: You know there’s not.
Michael looks away.
MICHAEL: People survive these things.
NIKITA: He’s not you.
Michael looks back at Nikita.
MICHAEL: He’s not. Maybe you underestimate him.
NIKITA: Maybe Operations has something else in mind. He has his pet, Hillinger, in place. Has it occurred to you that Operations might have ulterior motives…for all this?
SOLDATS DE LA LIBERTE -- STAIRCASE
Rousseau leads Birkoff up winding stairs. Birkoff looks around, curious.
BIRKOFF: What is this?
ROUSSEAU: It’s your new room. A little more appropriate in light of how much you’ve helped us here. You like it?
Birkoff checks out a well-stocked mini-refrigerator.
BIRKOFF: Yes, yes, it’s great, I just don’t know why --
ROUSSEAU: You’ve done well by us. We try to do right by our friends.
Birkoff flops on the bed, tests the softness.
BIRKOFF: Big difference. Thanks.
Birkoff rolls over the bed and sits at the computer, turning on the monitor, then the CPU.
ROUSSEAU: My pleasure.
Birkoff sits down at the computer, starts typing.
ROUSSEAU: (arms crossed, looking out the window) How long did you work for Section?
BIRKOFF: (keeps playing with the computer) I don’t understand -- what’s Section?
Rousseau leaves the window and approaches Birkoff’s back.
ROUSSEAU: I offer my friendship, my trust. I ask you a simple question and in return, receive a simple lie.
BIRKOFF: No, I didn’t … I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Birkoff’s fingers freeze on the keyboard. His voice remains purposefully casual, but his expression is troubled.
ROUSSEAU: I’m not stupid. And I didn’t get where I am by burying my head in the sand. I assume you had your reasons for leaving Section and whatever they are that’s your affair. Your conscience. But you’re here with us now, and if we’re going to base our relationship on trust, don’t you think that needs to go both ways? (pause) How long did you work for them?
BIRKOFF: Four years.
ROUSSEAU: I appreciate your honesty. I’m glad you’ve come to learn who your friends really are. (Rousseau puts his hands on his shoulders) You’re a good man, Mr. Birkoff. I know that you’re going to make a very good soldier.
NIKITA’S APARTMENT
Nikita lounges in a robe, eating noodles with chopsticks. Her cell phone rings. She looks at it with annoyance, then picks up.
NIKITA: Hello?
BIRKOFF: Nikita, it’s me.
The camera flashes back and forth equally between Nikita and Birkoff in this scene. While Nikita is at home, Birkoff is in his new room, clad in gray tank-top and pants. His face is serious.
NIKITA: Birkoff? Is this line…secure?
BIRKOFF: Yes, I had Walter put in a second channel.
NIKITA: Are you all right?
BIRKOFF: For the time being. But you’ve heard that they’re leaving me in here.
NIKITA: Yes.
BIRKOFF: Do you believe me now?
NIKITA: (doubtful) I don’t know. I mean…if there really is a connection to Red Cell, then --
BIRKOFF: I’ve told them that there’s nothing more I can do for them in here. That’s not why he’s doing this.
NIKITA: Birkoff, stay strong. You will get through this. I promise.
BIRKOFF: I just can’t think straight anymore. They say they’re my friends. They say that you people are --
NIKITA: (firmly) They’re not your friends. Birkoff, you know exactly who they are.
BIRKOFF: How can you be sure? Operations is pushing me out of the way. They’ve taken me in here. They trust me. What if we’re wrong about them?
NIKITA: (closes eyes, shakes head) You can’t even think that.
BIRKOFF: (demanding) Then get me out.
NIKITA: I can’t do that.
BIRKOFF: Then meet with me. Anything! Maybe if I could see your face -- just have a chance to talk to somebody. (the camera pulls back -- Birkoff has been looking at himself in a mirror all this time) I don’t know where I am anymore, Nikita.
NIKITA: Can you get out?
BIRKOFF: (turns, putting his back to the mirror) I think I can slip out for about an hour. You know the Dockside Bar?
NIKITA: Yeah, it’s abandoned, I know it very well -- it used to be a Red Cell substation until we cleaned it.
BIRKOFF: Tomorrow night, at eight?
NIKITA: All right. I’ll see you there. Hey Birkoff…stay strong.
The phone connection goes dead.
Birkoff removes his glasses and turns around to look as his reflection once more. Rousseau slides in behind him having listened all along.
ROUSSEAU: Congratulations.
BIRKOFF: (looks at his reflection closely) Thanks. It means a lot to me.
THE DOCKSIDE BAR
Birkoff approaches and then enters a brick building. Inside, he climbs stairs in darkness until he finds a large switch on a wall and flips it. Dim lights come on. The silhouette of a busty woman in red neon adorns one wall. When he rounds a corner, he sees Nikita sitting at a table.
BIRKOFF: (relieved) Nikita.
NIKITA: Birkoff.
BIRKOFF: It’s good to see you.
NIKITA: (she gets up and clasps his arm) How are ya doing? You all right?
BIRKOFF: I had a little trouble getting out.
NIKITA: You want to tell me what’s happening?
Birkoff leads Nikita toward the bar, not answering her question.
BIRKOFF: Do you think they have any water back there?
NIKITA: Well maybe…
Nikita follows him, settles against the bar in a comfortable lean while he circles around to the back and produces a bottle of water.
BIRKOFF: My mouth’s so dry. (opens the bottle, pours a drink)
NIKITA: So you all right?
BIRKOFF: (gestures to the area behind the bar) They -- they got some stuff back here, do you want something to drink or something?
NIKITA: No, why don’t you just tell me what’s going on?
Birkoff raises his glass and drinks. Over the rim, he looks past Nikita’s left shoulder, then her right, telegraphing a warning with his eyes. Thus warned, Nikita turns and Birkoff ducks behind the bar as two gunmen shoot. Nikita spins around, firing and killing first one, then the other while flipping herself backwards over the bar. Two more gunmen quickly replace the dead and automatic fire continues to hail. Nikita lifts and slithers down a trap door behind the bar, her face bleeding from lacerations. The last two gunmen leap over the bar and look down the trapdoor, only to meet Nikita’s gun and die. Nikita runs away through the tunnels below the bar. We can only assume that Birkoff had some safe place to avoid the bullets during this battle.
SYSTEMS
Nikita is dressed conservatively in light gray. Her face still bears evidence of injury. Michael watches as Operations speaks severely to Nikita.
OPERATIONS: You acted in violation of Section protocol.
NIKITA: (quietly determined) He said there was a problem. He thought he’d become a security risk. He was afraid to contact you.
OPERATIONS: So you took matters into your own hands?
NIKITA: I did what I thought was best for Section. I thought that I could keep his mission on track.
OPERATIONS: We’ll talk about that later. In the meantime, it’s fairly obvious that his mission has failed. He’s gone over.
MICHAEL: How do you wanna handle it?
OPERATIONS: The Soldats de la Liberte needs to be taken out of play.
NIKITA: What about Birkoff?
OPERATIONS: Birkoff’s become a liability. Bring Jean-Marc in for debriefing; we’ll proceed tonight.
NIKITA: You can’t do this -- Birkoff couldn’t --
OPERATIONS: He’s gone over Nikita. Now do you see any other way that we can deal with this?
NIKITA: (accusing) I see that you set him up for this. (she begins to circle him) You knew he was in over his head. You knew he couldn’t handle it -- and when he fails, you send Michael after him.
OPERATIONS: We have an operative who’s turned. I see no further need to discuss it.
Nikita stops as Operations fixes her with a glare. They lock gazes for a moment, then Operations turns away dismissively.
SOLDAT DE LA LIBERTE
Birkoff sits in his room, head in hands. He’s upset, sweaty, trembling. Mia faces him, water and cup in hand.
MIA: I heard what happened. (pours water into cup) You’re very brave. (she hands Birkoff the cup of water) Oh, my God, you’re shaking.
Mia gravitates close. Birkoff leans forward and rests his forehead on hers, resting, perhaps drawing some comfort. Rousseau enters. Birkoff looks up at him.
ROUSSEAU: Well done.
BIRKOFF: Nikita got away.
ROUSSEAU: I didn’t really want her.
BIRKOFF: Then why did you have me set her up?
ROUSSEAU: This was about loyalty.
BIRKOFF: A test? Four of your soldiers were killed.
ROUSSEAU: Sometimes a little blood has to be spilled in order to establish trust. We are all very proud of you, Birkoff.
Rousseau leaves. Mia and Birkoff share a glance, then Birkoff looks down, still shaken.
SECTION HALLWAY
Michael and Nikita walk together.
NIKITA: Michael, are you really going to do this?
MICHAEL: I have no choice.
Nikita stops, Michael continues several paces, then turns.
NIKITA: It’s Birkoff.
MICHAEL: I know.
Michael resumes his path, leaving Nikita behind.
SOLDATS DE LA LIBERTE
Section One invades the headquarters of Soldats de la Liberte. A fierce battle erupts in growls of automatic gunfire and cries of pain. Members of the cult clash with Section operative on several levels at once; on the ground, from the roof… Two operative burst into Rousseau’s office. Rousseau grabs Mia like a shield while he reaches for a weapon. The operative shoots, killing her. Mia slithers bonelessly out of Rousseau’s grasp, eyes rolled up, dead.
OPERATIVE: (to Rousseau) Hold it!
Meanwhile, Michael searches the building, gun raised. A hostile leaps out and dies instantly, shot. Michael continues silently through empty halls. As he enters a room, he cocks his gun. The sound alerts Birkoff as he works at a computer, and he turns. As soon as he identifies the sound and its source, he jerks involuntarily, knocking over his chair and falling in a tangle of chair and limbs on the floor.
BIRKOFF: (extremely scared, words tumbling out) Michael please don’t do this just listen to me I can explain everything please don’t do this it’s not how it looks!
WHITE ROOM
Restrained in the chair, Birkoff sits without his glasses and addresses Michael entreatingly.
BIRKOFF: Michael. Listen to me. I know you all think I went over, but that is what I wanted you to think.
Nikita enters.
MICHAEL: Madeline’s waiting. You have two minutes to explain.
BIRKOFF: It was the only way out. I knew that if Operations thought I’d gone over to the other side, that he’d send you in there -- that I’d be too much of a risk. I knew that you’d have to come get me. (Michael walks around Birkoff, standing behind him) Michael, I’m telling the truth. (Birkoff looks at Nikita) Nikita…it was all a ruse. You have to believe me. It was the only way I could get out. If I hadn’t done this, he’d have left me inside.
NIKITA: (looking away, cool) You were just being clever.
BIRKOFF: I was doing what I had to do.
NIKITA: (looks at Birkoff accusing) Including setting me up.
BIRKOFF: Why do you think I picked that bar? You told me yourself that you knew it well. Don’t you remember telling me about that trap door behind the bar when you guys came back from the mission? (Nikita looks thoughtful) I knew you had a way to get out. I knew you could look after yourself. I had to get you to convince Operations that I’d crossed over and hopefully not get you hurt. Take me to my post; I will prove it to you.
Michael releases the metal restraints, the sound cold.
COMM
Operations and Madeline have been summoned. Michael and Nikita look on. Birkoff has his glasses on once more. Greg sits at Birkoff’s station.
BIRKOFF: I have to do it.
Greg looks up at Operations for confirmation. From the returning look, he reluctantly surrenders the desk. Birkoff sits and brings forth the evidence he requires.
BIRKOFF: They asked me to redesign their security system. I did. While I was doing it, I created a straight connection from their system right into ours. There’s everything. Communiqués from Red Cell, their sources of money and arms, list of potential targets, all of it.
Behind him, Madeline looks at Operations, some unspoken dialogue hanging between them.
MADELINE: And you never, not even for a moment, aligned your sympathies with theirs?
BIRKOFF: Look, what’s changed here? (Birkoff turns and gestures at the proof sitting passively on his monitor) Nikita’s alive, I got out, we’ve got access to their entire computer database. Do you really think that’s just a convenient coincidence?
OPERATIONS: You violated your orders.
BIRKOFF: How? By meeting with Nikita? All right, that’s true. But my orders were to go inside and stay there. I did that. While I was there, I did what I could. In the end, you gave the order to take me out, sir. (again Madeline looks at Operations with meaning) There is months of information here that we wouldn’t have otherwise. That should be worth something.
OPERATIONS: I want a complete report.
BIRKOFF: (relief emerges from him in a palatable wave) Yes, sir.
GREG: Sir, um, if you could tell me just --
OPERATIONS: (snaps) Not now.
Operations and Madeline leave.
NIKITA: You took a very big risk.
BIRKOFF: I’m sorry. I had to do what I did. But it worked out. I’m out.
Rousseau is escorted past the Comm by Section guards.
ROUSSEAU: (to Birkoff) Tu etais comme mon fils. You were like my son. I trusted you. It seems you are good at getting people to do that.
MICHAEL: Let’s go.
The group leaves.
BIRKOFF: (to Nikita) You know I would never do anything to hurt you.
Nikita’s visible wounds and distrustful look is his only accusing reply.
COMM
Birkoff is back at his post. He begins a task and opens a file. It spreads out on his monitor; an ugly joke. His picture had a target over it with a sign flashing ‘Wanted dead or alive’. At his own station behind Birkoff, Greg sniggers .
GREG: I couldn’t help it.
Birkoff rises from his chair and glowers over Greg.
BIRKOFF: It’s over Hillinger. You lost.
Greg gets up from his own chair. They stare, eye to eye, tension mounting.
GREG: No, Seymour. It’s not over until I say it’s over.
Michael approaches and interrupts.
MICHAEL: Birkoff. I need you to run the sim.
Birkoff stares at Greg a moment longer, then leaves to do Michael’s bidding. Michael watches Greg watch Birkoff’s exposed back, then leaves. Nikita walks up to Hillinger.
NIKITA: Do you remember what I told you?
GREG: (cocky) What, your threat? Oh no, I haven’t forgotten.
Nikita nods, then walks away. At his station, Birkoff opens the web site for the terrorist group. He scrolls down until he sees his picture with Mia. He looks from the picture to the loft where Operations looks down. Madeline walks forward to take her place at his side.
Birkoff’s face is inscrutable.
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