an alert north korean corporal watches the perimeter monitors. he pushes a switch to close the gate behind the mercedes.
during this, colonel lee stands in a window on the top floor, pointing a laser eavesdropping unit at the fbi guardhouse.
in the converted attic, several north korean espionage agents monitor military and police frequencies, downlinks from remote wiretaps and surveillance units; short-wave, cellular, etc. their equipment, being of chinese and iranian manufacture, is hardly cutting-edge technology.
carson clicks off the phone, then, as he dials another number:
carson grabs his fbi blazer off the back of a chair.
ambassador han, walther and sabatini are looking at a series of high-definition faxes spread out on a table.
everyone is painfully on edge. ambassador han paces. the fbi agents are on a phone or a radio, working leads.
robbins is still working the phone.
installer #4 he's used to it -- fuckin' frenchies get the whole summer off.
carson hangs up the phone.
the mood is glum. carson looks at robbins, dave and walther, then at the empty chair where sabatini had been sitting.
the tv's are off -- so they see none of bobbi's report.
sweating, dave is watching the action outside on a tv while hurriedly bandaging robbins' shoulder with some torn cloth. he grabs for the two-way and we realize he's panicking.
dave, calmer but still sweating, taps at his computer. a schematic of colonel lee's rocket launcher appears on it.
dave sits in front of his computer, phone receiver resting on his shoulder, riveted by the action on the tv.
dave is looking at the tv, paying no attention to his computer.
dave, re-energized, is juggling the phone and the radio.