Well, that was quick.
After a couple of weeks of everyone getting excited by Kimble’s power and popularity on the Hill, Kimble’s power and popularity on the Hill either suddenly evaporate or never really existed at all. It’s a little hard to tell which, but, either way, she’s in bother when it turns out there’s something shonky about a piece of Turkey-related legislation she voted for 12 years ago and some dude she fired then has waited till now to spill the beans. Not so much revenge as a dish served cold, then, as revenge as a dish served frozen solid and under several layers of impenetrable glacier, but plot needs must, I suppose.
Senator Bowman can’t wait to jump all over this SCANDAL, obv – at this point, he’s almost as much of a bogeyman as Janice from Stalker was – but, fortunately for La Hookstraten, President Jack Bauer’s friendship, once earned, is hard to lose. And PJB has picked Kimble for VP, so it’s Kimble or bust, as far as he’s concerned. Which is nice, and I’m all for Seth, Emily and Aaron being on the same side again (small squee), but I’m guessing will probably need some sort of urgent, giant distraction to take the heat off the Speaker pronto for it to happen.
Lucky then that May sweeps are almost upon us and there are two giant distractions already on the horizon. First up, Abe Leonard, the world’s shoddiest journalist, is hot on the trail of the Conspiracy he as yet knows not much about. He manages to distinguish himself this week by talking to all manner of folk while getting nothing new out of anyone; the fact that Jason Atwood “left” the FBI under less than ideal circumstances and doesn’t like to talk about his son doesn’t count since it’s news so old it has a beard and a walking stick.
In fairness, Abe does manage to find out that his “source” is in the White House, but since said “source” is not so much Deep Throat as First Base, doling out very little excitement over very long hours, it doesn’t seem at the moment as if Mr Leonard is going to get to the finish line any time soon. However, as I said, sweeps are coming up, so I’m guessing his leisurely stroll somewhere in the vicinity of the truth will become a sprint to the heart of it over the next couple of episodes and he’ll either get hold of a lot more dirt or find himself buried in it. We shall see.
Meantime, our principal hopes for some speedy answers rest on the frustrated shoulders of Agent Q, who, having been spotted spying on Conspiracy Corp in North Dakota, tells the injured Atwood to lay low, but flatly refuses to do so herself. Having established by way of some solid investigative work and, uh, the power of her own eyes, that Catalan is indeed alive, off she trots with Reed Diamond to noise up Conspiracy Corp’s head honcho and advertise electronic controls for Ford in a moment so blatant, jarring and prolonged that I thought someone was hacking into the car and spent the next couple of minutes waiting for it to crash.
The meeting with Bad Billionaire (there being no other kind on this type of show) having yielded little we didn’t know already, Q is so disheartened that not even the unwavering support of Reed Diamond can cheer her up. “Go home. It’s late,” he says, tenderly (or maybe it’s only tender in the fanfic taking shape in my head), “Get some rest,” and I wonder again if I’m meant to be shipping these two. Perhaps not, since, instead of downing tools and walking out to the car park with the stable, sensible man who isn’t punching reporters, Agent Q phones Jason and his grief management issues again instead. Oh, Q. Although, who can blame her for putting off going “home” when “home” is currently a dingy motel room and “going” there means being drugged, kidnapped, thrown inside a van and carted off into the very belly of the beast. Oh, Q. It’s one way to get closer to the top of the treason tree, I guess, but maybe try a Holiday Inn next time?