Michael Westen: [narration] Nobody wants to hear from a burned spy. Your old handlers send your calls straight to voice mail, your appeals are filed in the trash, your old contacts are worthless. Your best bet is to find an active field operative that can't hang up on you. If you're on domestic soil, the airport's not a bad place to look. Intelligence agencies are like amateur magicians, watch closely and you can see how they setup their tricks. It doesn't matter how good they are at misdirection and sleight of hand, they can't make a covert ops supply plane disappear.
Spencer: I can't find anything in this mess.
Sam Axe: Yeah, sometimes I lose track of things when I leave them on the ceiling.
Michael Westen: [narration] In Medieval Europe, spies used to pose as lepers and plague victims so they could snoop around without being bothered. In today's corporate office, posing as IT works the same way. It's the perfect cover if you need to linger without being bothered. And it gives you a pretext for talking to almost anyone.
Michael Westen: [narration] All you need to beat a modern tumbler lock is a little information and some stone-age tools. If you know the basic type of key you need, take out a matching blank, file down the valleys to the center ledge, and you've got a Bump Key. Apply torque, whack it with anything handy, and you're in.
Fiona Glennane: [walks in] It not quite as much fun as kicking a door down.
Diego Garza: If I report back that I made contact with a burned spy, do you know where they'll send me?
[Michael Westen says nothing]
Diego Garza: Me neither.
Sam Axe: [posing as corporate consultant] Ladies and gentlemen, if I can borrow your attention I promise to return it on about an hour.
Sam Axe: Has anyone hear heard of the "7th Sigma"? This is the newest commandment in the business bible, people. Anyone? Todd?
Disgruntled Techie: Thou shalt not lie about ice cream cake?
Fiona Glennane: [trying to sell him on the plan] The alien goes to jail.
Spencer: Oh, well that sounds good.
Michael Westen: [narration] Front companies generally make easy targets for a burglar. They don't want people wondering what they have to hide, so they tend not to install lights, alarms, and security cameras. And of course, they never invite the police to investigate, so there's really no need to be shy about leaving clues.
Michael Westen: You're going to have to help.
Spencer: Oh no. Oh, whadaya. How?
Sam Axe: Well for starters, you're gonna have to be able to string two sentences together.
Michael Westen: If you truly care about me, you should damn well want for me what I want for myself.
Fiona Glennane: If that's what you want... I'll be with you. I'll be with you.
Spencer: [reporting Shannon to the FBI] And you better bring some back up because that bitch is an alien.
Michael Westen: [after having Spencer committed to a psych ward for his alien paranoia] Spencer, you can't be here.
Spencer: You're right. We shouldn't be out in the open like this. They're probably looking for me.
Sam Axe: The aliens?
Spencer: [confused] No, the police. I broke out of a psych ward. Weren't you listening?