The haunting question lingered in the air, "Would she still be breathing if we hadn't ventured into that chaotic child rescue side mission?" Joe and Bobby stood amidst the smoky aftermath, the dust barely beginning to settle on the chaotic scene. Already, they had devised a seamless cover story, leaving nothing but the bitter acknowledgment of their profession's brutal fruitlessness. Moving forward with unwavering resolve, they shed the complex layers of psychological operations, special forces interventions, and clandestine geopolitical maneuvering—all that remained for Joe and the Lioness crew, and for anyone else fatefully ensnared in the gray world's web of intrigue.
Back in Dallas, the Carrillo mansion harbored unwilling participants in a special operation still precariously in motion. Unbeknownst to some, Pablo Carrillo was poised on the brink of a perilous revelation. Cruz awoke in Josie's room to find her wide-eyed and anxious, a day overdue in her daunting task of turning her father. With a blend of warmth and steadfast advice, Cruz urged Josie forward, followed by a stern rebuke to swiftly accomplish her mission—a display of prowess that cemented her status as Joe's unassailable choice for Lioness Tamer 2.0.
"In the psychology of cultivating informants," Cruz imparted to Josie, "there's a lesson: Your father will forever be etched in your mind as he was in your fondest memories, and you will remain forever the age you were when those cherished moments were forged." The implication was clear, "You must remind yourself that you are no longer nine. And he is but a fraction of the hero you once perceived him to be." It was a brilliant strategy, given the pressing deadline. Pablo Carrillo was neither the valiant hero of Josie's youth who rescued a baby from a runaway horse nor the diabolical, mustache-twirling child-trafficking villain Cruz could effortlessly portray. He was an ordinary man, unremarkable in his humanity. Josie, now a grown woman with the mighty weight of the U.S. empire at her back, had the imperative to play her trump card without delay.
As Cruz had foretold, Pablo's suspicions had reached a fever pitch when Josie interrupted his morning cigar to impart the bombshell: the CIA sought his aid in an operation against Los Tigres. Once again, Pablo shattered the cliché of the 90% righteous, 10% maniacal villain, delivering an incisive critique of the CIA's role in perpetuating the global drug markets and the accompanying militant violence they purported to quell. With a furious slap to Josie, he ignited a fierce intervention from Cruz and the Lioness crew members present, transforming the moment into a scene of raw tension and high stakes.
"This ought to silence the incessant, vile query swirling in your addled mind about the depths of my daughter's deceit," Cruz declares, once she's brought Pablo to his knees and pressed a gun to his temple. It delights me to see our heroine deliver such a potent, Shane Black-inspired line. Amidst the swift skirmish and the securing of their position, Two Cups discovers that the maid serves as an informant for Gutierrez, casting our enigmatic DEA liaison in the suspicious light of a potential mole.
Joe remains lucid as Two Cups, using an unsecured line, updates her and manages to squeeze in a poignant farewell call to Neal, while also instructing the co-pilot on stabilizing her before consciousness slips away. Meanwhile, the burgeoning dual crises of this special operation are relayed to Byron and Kaitlyn, who storm into the exposition/control room in Washington, ready to lambast their superiors. (Regarding Byron, what's the story with his "based" daughters insisting on real cow's milk or whatever? Is that some Gen-Z trend on TikTok that I'm blissfully unaware of?)
The newscaster on TV simultaneously broadcasts the cover story and the gravity of the border incident: the FBI, DOJ, and DEA are keeping the operation's true nature under wraps to "protect the lives of undercover agents still in harm's way," while acknowledging that the operation itself constitutes "the largest loss of life for a federal agency" since the Branch Davidian raid. Wow, they've invoked Waco—this is grim indeed.
Mason and Hollar engage in their typical finger-pointing, asserting that every assurance they received when sanctioning this operation has been breached. Byron, Kaitlyn, and the Lioness crew were granted carte blanche with resources and assets, yet all they've accomplished is entangling the U.S. army in a conflict in Iraq and conducting a failed nighttime raid on a human trafficking operation in Mexico—a far cry from their initial mission. Byron counters with an equally convincing argument: they were tasked with infiltrating the largest criminal organization in our nearest neighbor, using an asset not of their choosing, and collaborating with agencies they explicitly warned against. On that closing note, they're now confronted with the daunting possibility that Agent Gutierrez might be a mole for Alvaro Carrillo. True to character, no one wants to shoulder the blame for knowingly setting volatile events in motion. Once again, Mullins interrupts the blame game with a reminder that chaos management is their modus operandi. There's no turning back; they must forge ahead. So, how do they now mitigate the collateral damage?
Orchestrating this mission with stealth is an uphill battle, considering they've apprehended a DEA agent and a key cartel figure. Their sole viable strategy now hinges on smuggling Pablo Carrillo back to Mexico, banking on the hope that the MSS agent they seek is entrenched within Los Tigre's hierarchy. Regarding their two high-profile detainees, Byron reassures the assembled team that the Lioness squad will ensure neither walks away unscathed once their operation concludes. This final revelation transforms the mission into a covert one, prompting Mullins to excuse himself, leaving Mason and Hollar to issue a classic "we can't sanction this officially, but we're implicitly greenlighting it" directive.
As Joe undergoes surgery at Keesler Air Force Base, his prognosis shrouded in uncertainty, Kaitlyn descends to Bliss to participate in the Guantanamo-esque interrogation Kyle and his team are subjecting Gutierrez to. Leveraging his NSA contacts, Kyle has scrutinized Gutierrez's file, uncovering no active probe on Carrillo and no record of the undercover informant placed in the Carrillo residence. Kyle flaunts his black-ops bravado, reciting the ominous federal statute 2381 with relish, which defines treason as knowingly assisting an enemy of the state and withholding information from federal entities, leading to harm to agents or agencies. "This means, Raymond, I can terminate you for yesterday's betrayal, and I can terminate you for what you refuse to divulge."
Kaitlyn's entrance into this torture tableau escalates the stakes further. She invokes Gutierrez's wife and children, threatening to expose their identities and the names and addresses of his extended kin. For Gutierrez, mere execution would not satisfy their thirst for vengeance for his deeds. This is quintessential CIA – mirroring the archetypal villain's tactics, outmaneuvering the devil at his own perverted game.
Gutierrez counters with an alibi that, while conveniently timed, rings plausible. His narrative aligns with the pervasive fear of cartel infiltrators hidden within U.S. borders. According to Gutierrez, the only way to effectively probe Carrillo was under the radar. Maintaining an impeccable secrecy around his investigation, including his informant in Pablo's house, was the sole strategy to prevent Los Tigres from catching wind of it, sooner or later. The collective seems to concede the likelihood that their captive might indeed be speaking the truth, yet Kaitlyn orders a 30-milligram methylphenidate injection and a polygraph test, merely to err on the side of caution.
In the meantime, father and daughter, Carillo, find themselves imprisoned within a confined space, left with nothing but the ghostly reflections of their former selves and the diametrically opposed personas the world has cast them in to ponder over. The fate of Joe remains a mystery, leaving us hanging in suspense. Sheridan truly deserves commendation this week for evoking a genuine chokehold of emotion in me, making me ponder whether Joe hadn't perhaps dallied too daringly with destiny by entrusting the Lioness mantle to Cruz. If these elite operations have imparted any wisdom, it is that death operates with neither rhyme, reason, nor justice; it dances to the tune of chaos, entangling us all in its erratic rhythm.
