CARRUTHERS: I'm telling you something...
You've got to be careful when
you're doing your stakeouts.
I did one for... I was
on one for six months.
I gained, like, 20, 25 pounds.
You keep eating this crap...
Well, that's my problem, though.
I don't gain weight. I tried.
That's 'cause you're 12 years old.
Yeah, well, then, who gives a shit?
Can I get you something to drink?
You're disgusting.
Come on, don't keep it by the water either.
Don't even let it rub shoulders
with the other bottle.
Do you know what?
Urine is good for your skin.
My grandmother... I swear to God,
my grandmother told me.
She said... She did, 'cause when
I used to get a zit or something, she said...
She pissed on your face?
Get the fuck out of here.
Are you fucking nuts?
- What?
- It's my grandmother!
You just told me your grandma said
that piss is good for your skin.
Have some respect. Come on.
STEVE ON RADIO:
We have some activity here.
Why don't you speak a little louder, Steve?
Just keep it fucking down.
What, now?
- The old man's in bed.
The nurse is in there
and then Serna is somewhere in the house.
- Who's in the back? Who's in the back? Joe.
- Joe.
Joe, are you guys seeing anything?
Because if you are,
it's certainly not coming up here in the van
and we'd certainly like
to see what's going on.
We've been here for 16 hours.
It's pretty dead.
Thank you, Captain Obvious.
All right well, just stay awake, guys.
Stay on it. Stay alert.
AGENT 1: Hey, yo, Mike,
where are you, man? I can't see you now.
Are you nervous?
What?
- What kind of deodorant do you use?
- I don't use deodorant.
- Look at you.
- What? I live in a van.
What does that mean?
It's bad for you. It causes Alzheimer's.
What?
Alzheimer's. You get Alzheimer's
if you're using antiperspirant
with aluminium.
I'm sorry. I forgot. I don't remember
what you said. What?
Fucking asshole.
Watch it. Watch it.
Watch who your superior is, pal.
STEVE: Serna just picked up
the house phone.
AGENT 2: He's on the phone now.
He is on the phone. He's on the phone.
AGENT 1: I got some movement in there.
Ricky, pan to the right and zoom in.
Okay, we got him. We got him. We got him.
Here we go. Here we go.
Zoom back in and stay there.
STEVE: He is on the phone. Do you guys
have any transmission? He's on the phone.
Quiet, quiet. We got it.
- He's talking to someone right now.
- Just keep zooming in.
- SERNA: Buzz.
- Dialogue hot. Dialogue hot.
Everybody off the walkies now.
Everybody off air.
You got clicks?
PADICHE: Clicks? No.
Nothing on my end. The line's clean.
STEVE: Do you guys have
any signal out there?
Yeah, we got it. Please stay off the walkies.
STEVE: Buzzy, I'm upstairs. I can't talk
very loud. Primo's downstairs.
PADICHE: I've been sitting by this phone
for 20 fucking hours.
STEVE: Now listen to me, Buzzy.
He's going to clip Israel.
Clip? He's gonna kill him?
Buddy Israel?
Now, I was eavesdropping,
so let me lay this thing out neat.
All right, I'm listening. Go ahead.
Now, what I heard downstairs is
they got a guy. Some Swede.
Swede.
- You know a Swede? You know of a Swede?
- Nothing.
Supposedly, a specialist.
And he ain't coming cheap.
So I'm thinking we jump, get to Israel before
the Swede can, we're in a power position.
- We grab him...
- It's a double-cross.
...ransom him back, pick up that nut.
We're that much closer to
doing our own thing.
Kidnapping? Can we bring this off?
Hey, we keep our mouth shut, play the part,
nobody suspects a thing.
The old man's on the fade, Buzzy.
Fuck them, you know.
These guys got balls. Let me tell you.
These guys got some balls.
Do they ever.
Jesus Christ, this is our time now.
You think they'll really
kick ransom for Israel?
You ain't heard the punch line.
But before I get to it, one more thing.
I should probably bring it up.
Primo wants Israel's heart.
- What'd he just say?
- He's going to cut his heart out.
His heart? Jesus, what for?
He's been snitching to the world.
I can't even blame Primo.
You know, he's old-school Sicilian.
This is how they hate.
Now, big concern for me, at least,
we crew up.
Let's not fuck around. Someone's cousin,
some zip off the boat from Naples.
Zip off the boat?
Let's get pros. People who know
how to behave.
This thing's gonna blow up huge.
You know, there's a pair of broads
I think might be very good for this.
Which broads?
They're reliable? They're good? What?
Two of the best. They hit those Chinamen,
took out the big triad.
These girls are worth every penny.
I'll call Loretta. She handles both of them.
All right.
Odds are they're gonna get into some shit.
Might have to put people down.
These guys aren't fucking around.
PADICHE: Well, just so I get a quote
in my head, how much is the Swede getting?
That's the punch line. You ready?
Here's the punch line.
One million flat.
Holy shit.
If word hits the street
that there's a million-dollar bounty
for Buddy fucking Israel,
you're gonna have every fucking hit man
in the free world looking for him.
We got to move quickly. No more tomorrow.
I got to go, Buzzy.
- He said one million.
- One million.
One million, plus the fucking heart.
- Plus the heart.
- And Buddy Israel.
Holy shit.
These guys want him bad.
Ladies and gentlemen, there's a guy,
he is one of the biggest stars in the world.
And we are thrilled to have him stop by.
And he's won all kinds of awards.
He has won Entertainer of the Year
every year in Las Vegas
for the last five years.
Ladies and gentlemen, would you give
a big round of applause,
a big Las Vegas welcome,
to a great Las Vegas star
and his name is Mr Buddy Israel!
Come on out here!
DUPREE: Buddy "Aces" Israel.
Card sharp. Illusionist.
Asshole.
I say this
from the bottom of my heart. Retire.
Douchebag.
Five-time Vegas Showman of the Year.
The wiseguys, for some fucking reason,
love him.
They think he's, like, a mystic.
You know, something special.
Nice shot.
Now, Buddy starts making friends.
The connected kind.
He's doing the Sinatra thing.
Becomes the unofficial mob mascot.
Can I whack anybody?
Who am I gonna whack?
Stop it. Stop it.
Now he's got connections. He's got pull.
So he starts to make plays.
Wants to live the mob life for real.
Bankrolls a couple of B&Es. Rich folks.
Fronts some smash-and-grabs, pawn shops,
jewellery stores, that kind of thing.
Then he gets his dick wet.
Strong-arm robbery.
Get in the van, man! Get in the van now!
Go! Go! Go!
Vegas lounge act turns legitimate thug.
Truth is, Buddy don't know the fucking ball
from the bounce.
What do you got?
He's a wannabe.
Like most wannabes, he starts
fucking up fast and picking up speed.
Are you fucking kidding me?
Are you fucking kidding me?
That's good work. Good fucking work.
I love it.
His little criminal foray shines a floodlight
on the entire Carlotta organisation.
Cops get curious, they start camping out
and everything goes sideways
real fucking quick.
People get pinched, snitches snitch.
The next thing you know, Buddy Israel
has brought the heat to bear
on none other than
Mr Primo Sparazza himself.
Enforcer,
extortionist, killer.
Sparazza has been rumoured
to have performed
in excess of 100 contract murders,
including one of the Bureau's most
celebrated agents, Freeman Heller.
I thought Heller was a double-op?
He worked for the OSS
before joining the Bureau in its heyday.
He was the first operative assigned
with infiltrating the mob.
Fake identity, falsified backgrounds,
everything that is now
standard operating procedure,
- Heller implemented way back when.
...your attention to these overlays,
I'll show you exactly what I meant
when I said, "Change my face."
And as a result, his undercover work
was highly successful.
Using the latest techniques
in cosmetic surgery,
I will have my ears pinned back.
Removing a slight piece of bone in my chin,
I will alter my jaw line.
Eventually, he reached the rank of capo
inside the Carlotta crime family,
but due to some internal slipup,
his cover was compromised.
Primo Sparazza was given the contract
to kill him.
Sparazza is a bit of a spectre.
Over the years, the serious crimes with
which he was thought to be involved with,
including Heller's murder,
could never be traced back to him.
A dedicated viciousness
and slavish devotion to mob doctrine
had Sparazza's star on the rise.
So they relocated him to Nevada
and made him the head
of the Las Vegas Cosa Nostra.
Water.
What's his connection to Israel?
Sparazza introduced Israel to the life.
Gave him his first big break onstage,
brought him up through the ranks.
And Israel played the situation
very shrewdly.
Slowly amassing the loyalties
of Sparazza's top men,
with the idea of toppling the throne.
You know,
I've seen some stupid moves, but...
Well, you spend your life pulling rabbits
out of hats and sawing people in half,
anything seems possible.
Israel wanted to touch something real,
something dangerous.
But what he wound up doing was splitting
the family into dual factions.
Sparazza on one side, Israel on the other.
The infighting that followed drew
the interest of every investigative body
operating under the canopy
of the federal government.
This is it, right here.
Presently, we have...
Sixteen state and federally-funded agencies
running concurrent criminal probes
on select members of La Cosa Nostra.
LOCKE: With Israel being the target
of virtually every one.
His testimony has the potential
of blowing the lid
off of what's left of La Cosa Nostra
in this country.
That alone warrants total immunity
from prosecution
and a vanishing act
with the Witness Protection Programme.
The wiretaps on Serna and Padiche,
mention of Israel's heart?
Well, that corroborates
what we already know.
Sparazza's health is in rapid decline
and before he dies, he is demanding
the heart of his sworn enemy.
A recently opened million-dollar escrow
account has been traced back to Sparazza.
That, and the mention
of this mysterious Swede
makes the contract on Israel
all the more real.
How real?
How about six figures for that fool?
How's that love?
- Bullshit.
- No, baby.
They heard about that triad hit,
the work y'all put in.
And they recognise the skills.
Now, you all want this?
- Hell, yeah.
- Well, I'm gonna get it for you.
What?
There it is! There it is!
You called the right bitches
for this one, man.
You see? Write that shit down.
Are you saying that just because me and
baby girl here got a rep on the rise,
you know, we chipped some nails
on some niggas,
they want us to go in
and drop this mafioso motherfucker?
The way it works, girl. Y'all peeled
some serious caps. Word travels.
So, we're supposed to go in there,
bust on this punk
and remove his heart. Is that for real?
You go in and pull him out.
That heart shit? That's just for flavour.
Now, I'm still trying to get the down-low
from this cat Padiche.
What we got right now
is a number and a name.
Buddy Israel.
What else did Padiche say?
He said the shit might get hot
and might get heavy.
I said, "Cool.
'Cause I got two of the hottest,
"heaviest bitches alive."
- Like who?
- Like Pasquale Acosta.
Blood-money mercenary.
His countrymen have dubbed him
the more dubious "El Estrago."
"The Plague."
American educated. Fluent in over
a dozen languages. Freelanced for the CIA.
Noted for his legendary torture techniques.
When he was caught by the SAS
in Northern Ireland,
in prison he chewed off his fingertips
to the bones,
so he couldn't be printed or ID'd by Interpol.
Is it possible that he could be involved
in this?
A million-dollar hit fee would draw some
huge flies. And Acosta's pure mercenary.
He has a history of taking on tough kills,
and he's certainly not alone.
- Who else?
- How about the Tremor Brothers?
Three of them.
Same skank mom, different deadbeat dads.
They're used for
that suicide-style, kamikaze shit.
Heard about that dinner club in Cleveland?
That got squat-fucked, shot to shit,
slashed and burned?
What happened?
Well, the Tremor Brothers go rip-shit riot
on the whole fucking place.
Seven dead, 28 wounded.
Just to get this one fucking guy.
In the course of the melee, one of them
gets shot in the neck. He passes out.
Another one catches blowback
from a jammed piece.
He's temporarily blinded.
Third one gets a bullet lodged in his back,
he can't walk.
They're speed-freak, neo-Nazi assholes
who read and recite
Mein Kampf like it was Mother Goose.
They're meaner than shit,
they're dumber than hell
and these motherfuckers will go megaton
at the drop of a hat.
SYKES: I ain't never heard of him.
WATTERS: Me, neither.
Then listen up, 'cause he may wind up
being your main competition.
His name is Soot. Lazlo Soot.
A lot of folks want this white boy clapped.
Word is Soot is working for one of them.
Now, they don't know where he's from,
how long he's been in the game,
or even what he looks like.
But when Soot decides to move
on somebody,
they're the last ones to see it coming.
DUPREE: So, there it is.
The bond on Buddy Israel expires
in 18 hours. After that, it's a jump ball.
Who posted the bond?
Same guys who hired me,
his former law firm.
He walked out the door after he made bail.
Hasn't been seen since.
If this Israel really is the great white whale
of snitches,
then what are we doing messing
with the mob, who are,
correct me if I'm wrong, but I think they're
going to pour boxes of bullets into his ass?
Here we go.
What incentive is there to track him
on something as small time
as a fucking skip trace?
I take it you're not going.
No, I'm gonna go into Kentucky
and take Fort Knox
with a fucking slingshot,
and after that I'm gonna go
into hell after Hitler.
Would you please find your fangs,
you fucking coward,
and get with this? What is wrong with you?
Seriously. What is wrong with you?
Listen, I know where Israel is, okay?
So we have maybe a day
before that location that I know
gets grapevined and
the whole fucking world gets hip to this.
He's in Lake Tahoe on the Nevada side.
We got to lay something out, though.
You go up in there ad-libbing and shit,
it's your ass.
- What are we talking on the split?
- Forty-five a piece for you two.
Ten percent finder's fee for me.
- So, what's the time frame?
- Fast as we can get you there.
We wait any longer,
someone gonna dead this fool.
MESSNER: Then we lose our witness.
And we lose our case.
Now, Israel's manager,
a man by the name of Morris Mecklen,
has guaranteed us that Israel will enter
into protective custody
once the government has approved his deal.
Now, we've been monitoring
Mecklen's phone calls,
and we've learnt that Israel
is at the penthouse level
of the Nomad Hotel and Casino
in Lake Tahoe, Nevada.
- The high-roller suite?
- No, that's the last place they'd look.
Israel's lawyers were left holding
the bag after he skipped bail.
And Rupert Reed, one of the firm's partners,
has learnt of his whereabouts.
And he's dispatched a local bondsman
by the name of Jack Dupree
to pick him up and return him to Las Vegas.
It's very simple, gentlemen.
We can't allow that to happen.
A Gulfstream is waiting
at the Reagan National Airport
to transport you to Lake Tahoe.
And I'll be flying to Los Angeles
to finalise Israel's deal.
No former witness against the mob
has been as crucial or as important
as Buddy "Aces" Israel.
He's not only essential to our case,
he is our case.
And understand that if an attempt
is made on his life,
it'll be made by those
of the strictest professional calibre.
They are amoral, ruthless
and without restraint.
They must not succeed.
PADICHE: Sid.
SERNA: Yeah, Buzzy, I just got a call
from the mansion. The Swede has arrived.
No shit.
The old man sent for him. So get yourself
on a plane and get your ass to Lake Tahoe.
Are you fucking kidding me?
Fuck you.
Goodbye.
Good luck.
Godspeed.
- Good day, sir.
- Hey, baby.
- Don't fuck... What the...
- Where you going?
You call Mecklen?
I got the machine.
What did you say?
I leave message.
I know you left a message.
What did you say?
Hugo, you're staring at me
like I just asked you
for the fucking square root of something.
What did you say to Mecklen
on the little motherfucking machine?
That you were returning his call
and you were very, very concerned.
Wow, that's fantastic work, man.
You have the wisdom
of a 6,000 or 7,000-year-old man.
That's fantastic.
We don't have to fill up
the whole blackboard after all.
Do me a favour, will you?
Will you tell me what that is?
About what?
Look at the collar on that coat.
What does that look like? That stain?
I don't know. Cinnamon roll?
Is it cinnamon roll?
The cinnamon. The roll of the cinnamon?
That looks like jizz.
Yeah.
Eastern European jizz.
That looks like some fuckhead shot his load
on a $12,000 calfskin jacket!
The twist is it's my $12,000 calfskin jacket!
So, you got the semen, okay,
you've got the human ejaculate
that's been allowed to soak in
for, like, 7 hours! All right?
Work its way into the fabric fucking fibres...
If you like, I send out.
To what? Incinerate?
Hugo!
There isn't a fucking laundry detergent
or dry cleaning product
known to man that will get that clean.
Some shit, suffice it to say,
just don't wash out!
- Do you want my apology?
- Only if you really, truly mean it.
I very sorry.
- Are you a colossal fucking idiot?
- I am, yes.
Get the phone. It's probably Mecklen.
Get Vitoli up here and start cleaning.
All right?
And please, for me, will you do one thing?
Get out of my fucking sight.
Yes, sir. Go ahead.
We're about three miles
from the Nomad now.
SERNA ON TAPE: So do this in the next day
or so, get to Israel before the Swede can,
- we're in a power position.
- All right, we'll be awaiting word.
All right, we got time.
Want to go grab something to eat?
Yeah. Any word on this Swede?
No, just the mention in that phone call.
There's no Swedish hit man
on anyone's radar.
Maybe he's that good.
You know, never been caught.
No criminal record. It's possible.
Maybe, but that's very unlikely.
Jesus, I'll tell you, engineering
this kind of play against Sparazza,
going to these lengths that these two guys
are going, they're playing some long odds.
Coffee? Anything?
I don't want to order without...
No, no, we cool.
- Coffee?
- No, no, thanks, darling. Lovely.
So, I spoke to Loretta this morning.
And she told me you, more or less,
have a plan of attack.
My associate, Mr Serna,
I can get him on the phone
and if you could just speak to him
and tell him your plan...
- Your plans. What you got in mind?
- Pussy.
I'm sorry?
Pussy.
Pushy?
Pussy.
Yeah, Israel likes pussy.
And we like
that he likes...
Pussy.
Correct.
Well,
enough said.
Hi, Jack. Great, good, super.
Come on in. Good to see you.
- How you doing? Pete.
- Hello. Rip Reed. Come in. Good. Good.
Great. Come on. What's that in there...
Hello? Great. Come on in. Sorry about that.
- Hey, Hollis.
- Rip Reed. Hello, Hollis. Come on in.
So, Jack, he tells me you guys
a couple of ex-cops?
- Yeah, we worked vice, like, 6 years.
- Is that right?
- Four.
- Four years.
- About six years.
- Vice.
Four, six, five. They didn't teach you
how to count, I guess, huh?
But I bet you guys
got a bunch of stories, right? I don't.
I grew up soft with the private schools
and little blazers, you know, and...
Everyone talked things out, you know?
No one ever threw any blows.
Still to this day, never punched in the face.
Imagine that? I'm pretty much a pantywaist.
I don't say this to be self-deprecating.
I just, you know,
don't have much of an opinion of myself.
I'd much rather be like you guys.
You know, bar fighters and big,
swinging dicks, taking care of shit.
You know, sadly, this is it.
You know, it's disgusting. Thanks, God!
Dog-pile of piss-poor physique on top of
a small cock and hereditary alcoholism.
I appreciate it!
I'm babbling. I do that drunk. Please forgive.
Let's get to the business at hand.
This wanted felon here, Buddy Israel,
little Rick Springfield, I guess.
And his bail-bond bobbing around
up there out at the lake.
Rip, hand to God, you got nothing
to worry about with this.
- Yeah?
- Okay? I've assembled a team now.
We're gonna go in,
we're gonna get this guy,
and everyone is gonna leave
the theatre grinning.
No problem. Will not be a problem.
No problem.
Great, that's good. You're feeling it,
you're feeling it. Come on.
Outstanding! Get it up there!
Come on. Come on, man. And bones it.
Huh? Right there, and then padlock it
and then you put the chain on it.
That's a new one I'm working on.
- Really getting the hairy eyeball off that guy.
- No, no. No, no.
- He's all right?
- He's all right. Tell him.
This is good, though, what you're telling
me. All right? I need to hear this stuff.
Little boosts.
Helps allay my fears. I pass
that peace of mind along to my partners.
All right. Look up. Hey, man.
That's not yours.
Put the fucking rabbit down.
Appreciate it. Get your dick-beaters off it.
Couple of things.
The hangers-on, his posse, you know,
they're all strapped or packing heat,
whatever the phrase is.
- I don't know what you guys call it.
- Strapped.
Strapped? Well, so, they got guns.
What else? He drinks, you know.
Self-medicates. Total clich.
This guy. He's a strung-out, washed-up,
has-been, jerk, snitch,
fucking drunk, seven-layer loser.
Right. Now I'm praying he puts up a fight!
Please! Please, please, rape him
if it's possible!
Punch him in the seat or something,
you know? Hit him in the brown.
I don't know. Anyway, I believe
we had a retainer for services rendered.
$50,000.
ISRAEL: $50,000 for this fucking suite?
- Yo, calm down.
- Don't tell me to fucking calm down!
- That's all they're gonna give us.
- Look at the attention we gettin', man.
We campaigning like niggas ain't hot.
We hot.
And they losing a whole floor's worth
of business, saying it's under construction.
I am not shelling out this kind of bread
for this shithole, all right?
This is a junior suite in Vegas. So, fuck this
and the fucking animal kingdom.
- What?
- Vitoli not answer the phone.
Go down there and get him.
Go down there! Come on. Let's go.
- Has Mecklen called?
- No.
When do we get concerned?
We don't get concerned.
We'll see movement on this soon.
All right? We just got to knock off
a few more hours.
These flowers have wilted. Call the florist.
No, I need you to chill.
I need you to call the florist.
When your guy gonna call?
That's what's happening.
Hey, yo, Beanie.
Hey, ladies. Get up.
Beans.
Bag them and get some more on deck,
all right?
All right, y'all.
We did the damn thing.
Now proceed to the front
in an orderly fashion,
or how the fuck y'all want to,
but get the fuck going.
Let's go, step lively. Get your ass up.
Put your clothes on, girl.
You're acting like y'all on sundial.
Y'all need to be on stopwatch.
Damn it. I didn't realise how fucked up
I was till I just saw your ass, girl.
You went from Beyonc to Bigfoot
in less than six fucking hours.
Fuck you, pussy!
Hey, we did that dance, bitch. Kick rocks.
Goddamn!
Hey, yo, is this Madame Alex?
Hey, y'all got sick leave?
'Cause one of your hoes just got fucked up!
Yeah, she might be missing some work.
Oh, hell, no! This is nice.
This is real nice! Play it up!
What you doing, girl?
Come on, man. Come on.
- Hoes gotta go.
- Get them out of here. Let's go!
Get them to the elevator.
- GIRL: Fuck you! Give me my purse!
- Shut the fuck up!
Hey, bitch! You forgot your hat!
- Get your hands off me, asshole!
- Take your shit, bitch.
Thanks, Paul. Israel's awake.
There was apparently a fight
with some prostitutes,
but he wasn't involved.
- What, like an actual fight? They...
- Yeah, a fight.
- Jesus Christ.
- A scuffle, a donnybrook. Yeah.
He had one of his men call a madam
for another group of girls.
- We're getting robbed here, man.
- Seriously.
Three days staring at Sparazza's house.
This guy's got hookers
up there fistfighting.
Look at all you're missing.
Have you checked this stuff out yet?
This is unbelievable.
You know that Sparazza's had
major elective plastic surgery.
Fifteen of them. Right?
Fifteen separate procedures since 1952.
Look at the work he's had done.
Nose, three times. Eyes. Eyelids. Jaw.
You take every has-been actor in Hollywood,
- they haven't been cut this much.
- Easy.
Crazy, you know.
Wall-to-wall felony offences.
Murder, of course. Extortion.
Arson. Grand larceny. Blah, blah, blah.
And a paternity suit, just to,
you know, round out the portfolio there.
And not one single criminal charge
laid against him.
Well, you can't kill over a hundred people
without knowing how to tiptoe.
Yeah, but the Bureau knows he killed Heller.
Then why not go after him for that?
Heller was buried by the agency.
Any time an operative failed, or was
perceived to have failed, he was blackballed.
Look at what happened to Ness.
Ness and the Untouchables
took down Capone.
Heller got shot and killed.
The bad guys beat him.
Worse, Sparazza walked.
How much longer you think?
Who knows? Locke has been
with the lawyers from Justice
since yesterday afternoon.
Israel's manager is acting as his attorney.
That's what's holding things up.
So I want to be in that penthouse
a half a second after this deal is done.
We gonna get any guff from the hotel staff?
Israel's obviously paid them off.
We're not gonna have any trouble
with the hotel staff.
You show them your ID
with the letters "FBI" in all caps,
it's instant compliance.
I've seen it happen a hundred times.
Special Agent Gerald Diego, Federal Bureau
of Investigation, San Francisco Field Office.
We're conducting a series
of impromptu inspections
for the Nevada Gaming Commission,
and I'd like to speak
with your head of security.
Okay, just one second.
Just hang on, sir.
Where'd you get these?
Same place that rents to the guards.
All right, there's a shift change at 9:00 a. M.
The graveyard gets off. We're gonna slip in
with the daytime guys when they go on.
But what about access cards, passkeys?
Yeah, well, we'll get our hands on those
when we get inside.
Basically, there's two security levels, okay?
You got your casino-floor,
count-room surveillance,
then you got your general security.
But I guess your friend
don't want to hear this.
Hollis? Come on. Get the fuck out of the car.
Come on. Come on.
- How about we put a gun to your head?
- We've been through that already.
Well, then quit acting like someone
took a shit in your cereal bowl, all right?
Reed paid us 50 grand.
What am I doing? Am I standing here?
- Am I standing here?
- Your attitude is fucking horrible.
- It's embarrassing.
- All right. Cut it out.
Two security levels.
The one we're going in
under the guise of is general hotel security.
They're basically
in charge of standing around the lobby
with their dicks in their hands,
you know what I mean?
There's a 35-person employee contingent
that goes at 9:00 in the morning.
We're gonna break up, split apart,
blend in with them
and reconnoiter at the hotel.
Come here! Get over here!
You stay down! You stay down!
Do you hear what I'm saying?
I forgive you, Darwin.
Shoot, I appreciate that, man.
If I needed your car and me and my brothers
were wanted by the law,
I would've killed you to get it, too.
You would've?
Hell, yeah.
We's just at the wrong place
at the wrong time.
So don't feel so bad, chief.
Oh, damn.
All right, then.
You know, up here in heaven, it's beautiful.
Really?
I'll see you up here someday.
You think so?
I know so.
Small world.
All right, enough grab-assing, goddamn it!
Grab them suits and the car.
And pitch them poor fellas in the lake.
And y'all follow me over to the hotel.
Yeah, you want some of me?
Yeah, just wait till we get outside!
Let go of me!
Let go of my arm!
Shut up! Fuck off!
That's gonna be real incognito
going in like that.
This is real brilliant. You're brilliant.
- Okay, why don't you just chill for now?
- Whatever.
Would you like two beds in your room?
No, no, we're not together. No.
Come on, baby. Don't be shy.
Just one bed, please.
- Hey!
- Come on, baby.
You know I'm playing with your pretty ass.
Let me ask you a question.
Y'all really let hoochies like that
stay up in here?
I mean, 'cause y'all must be burning sheets
by the ton.
Well...
As a female, that shit right there
don't get you?
Okay, it's bitches like that the reason
why niggas don't pay our species any mind!
They don't respect us!
Yeah, we just meat for male consumption.
Pieces of ass and pussy.
Something pretty in lipstick and eyeliner
that can suck a fucking cock!
- My ass!
- Shut up. What do you have to shout for?
She's asleep!
I'm trying to wake this bitch up! Man!
Come here! Come here!
Bitches like that
make me weep for what could be.
If we all sisters everywhere, black, white,
brown and yellow,
put our shit down one time,
a unified front, you know, the female race,
mobilised, baby, moving as one!
You feel me?
I'm gonna need a minibar key, too.
MAN ON TAPE RECORDER: Say your name.
Then say, "How can I be of assistance?"
VITOLl: I don't understand.
I didn't ask for your understanding.
I asked for your name,
followed by the phrase,
"How can I be of assistance?"
My name is Vitoli.
How can I be of assistance?
Bravo.
My name is Vitoli.
How can I be of assistance?
My name is Vitoli.
How can I be of assistance?
My name is Vitoli.
How can I be of assistance?
My name is Vitoli.
How can I be of assistance?
Vitoli!
Vitoli!
Let's go! What, your phone broke or what?
Buddy wants you now up top.
Where are you, you big nut?
Vitoli!
Come on, bitchy bitch.
You open the fucking door.
Come on!
ISRAEL: No, I tell you something.
You know what? Listen to me. Listen.
The deal is off in five minutes
unless they give us something.
MECKLEN: I don't know what to say to you.
It is what it is.
- Bullshit! It isn't!
- Listen...
I am not... I don't know how to say it
any fucking louder, Morrie.
I am not giving up my boys.
- And they are bricking us...
- All right? End of fucking song.
...on that particular issue, pally.
I've been cohabitating with these people
for the last 30 hours.
These are the premier prick cocksuckers
of all time.
And I feel beaten by them. I feel bloodied.
You're just gonna have to play ball.
No, I don't have to do shit, which includes
cooperating with these fuckers,
until I get what I want!
Listen to me.
If we have to give them someone,
give them Hugo, all right?
I can take that because he needs that
regimented prison shit that they'll give him.
It's bigger than that. They want everybody.
Ivy, Beanie, Hugo, the works.
This is not a fucking swap meet,
all right, Morrie?
I'm not giving up my boys
and you fucking know that.
I gave you Sparazza.
I'm gonna give them Sparazza
and the west-coast syndicate gift-wrapped.
Get it fucking done!
Listen to me, kid.
Let's not antagonise this any more, okay?
If we push this,
they are gonna revoke your protective status
and that nullifies any agreement we got.
And that is mate. Checkmate, kiddo.
All right.
- Israel rolled!
- He's giving them all up, isn't he?
His entire entourage. He doesn't have
a friend in the world. We got to move.
Son of a bitch. The Justice lawyers sign off?
Yeah, that's happening.
Look, if he's gonna run,
he's gonna run now, so we got to go!
I'm gonna call security and make sure
the whole place is locked down.
We got to keep him in that penthouse.
ACOSTA: I'd like to take a look
at the penthouse.
No, I'm sorry, the penthouse
is currently under construction.
MAN ON RADIO: Do a sweep
on camera three. Maybe we can pick him up.
Bill, can I speak to you privately?
If you get a chance...
Gary? Let's get our personnel up
on the catwalk over 12.
I don't like the rolls
that table's been getting.
It's tough, huh?
This is tough. I don't know... This...
I don't know how you do this.
I mean,
you have to keep your eye on everything.
And everybody all the time.
- Yeah, it can be a chore.
- I'll bet.
So, Bill, if I'm getting this right,
so you currently have the penthouse level
under construction?
- That's correct.
- Okay.
But with these down,
doesn't that pose a major security concern?
I mean, as you said, you got to keep
your eye on everything at all times.
Well, we were worried
about the dust and debris from the work
going on up there ruining the cameras.
- So you shut them off?
- Yes.
Hey, Bill, you said there's some situation
on 12? It's table 12?
Table 12. Okay?
I need somebody over at table 12.
A little blue-haired lady there
who's rolled about 14 times. Thank you.
Something happened at table 14?
Table 12!
I got it.
You shut them off.
Yes. I mean, no, we...
There's personnel stationed at both ends
of that hallway 24 hours a day.
Okay. What kind of personnel?
Right now?
A six-man security force plus Vitoli,
our executive butler, so seven men, total.
You have an executive butler on the floor?
Just in terms
of the men that are up there now, my team,
serving lunch and dinner
and just generally doing upkeep.
I'm not clear on the table. Is it table...
I'm at 12.
I don't know what you're seeing
right now, Bill.
It's a little blue-haired lady.
I'm looking at her right now. Table 12!
She is killing it, all right?
I want you to keep an eye on her! That's all!
- It's got to be frustrating.
- Copy that. We got her now.
- No guests, though, on the penthouse?
- No.
We have noticed a lot of action
on that table.
- Come on, Bill.
- We just want to know what's going on.
You got some sultan.
- One of your whales.
- No.
Big spender? Come on.
- No, no.
- Likes a lot of space?
Did you cook up
this little construction thing?
- Is this a...
- No, no.
We've been looking to renovate
that area of our hotel for some time now.
The security in place
is solely to preserve floor integrity.
And who else has access to the floor, Bill?
I'm sorry. We're covering
some very sensitive material here,
and I've got to safeguard myself,
so if you could just show me
your ID again, get your clearance.
Of course, great. If you could just tell me
who has access to the floor,
I think we could...
I have the sole pass and relieve
all of the personnel myself personally.
- Now, if we can just see your ID...
- Absolutely.
Hello? Hello? Is anyone there?
I need to speak to security right away.
This is Special Agent Donald Carruthers
of the FBI. Hello? Is anyone there? Hello?
Is that
blood?
Yes, it is.
It's filling up your lungs right now.
In less than a minute,
you're gonna asphyxiate and pass out.
But you shouldn't be feeling any pain
right now, okay?
Hey, hey.
Close your eyes.
Close your eyes.
Close your eyes.
Don't make this face
the last thing you ever see.
Because...
Heaven may hold it against you.
Am I really dying?
Bill.
Yeah, William.
We're all dying.
MESSNER: So it's a confirmed
double homicide.
CARRUTHERS: Nobody from security
is picking up the line.
Gunshot vics,
dumped in the lake, maybe an hour cold.
You're on speakerphone.
- AGENT: Am I on the speakerphone?
- Yeah, go, go, go, go.
We got an ID pending on a Jack Dupree.
He's a bail bondsman
out of Las Vegas, Nevada.
Did you recover anything from his person?
We got a receipt out of his pocket.
- It was for a uniform rental.
- What kind of uniform?
The receipt was partially destroyed
by the lake water.
- What kind of uniforms?
- What kind of uniforms?
It was listed as maroon in colour.
CARRUTHERS: Maroon?
AGENT: Maroon.
- With maroon, that's Nomad security.
- Were these uniforms recovered?
- No, we're still looking.
- Fuck!
Deputy? I need you...
I need you to lock down...
I need you to limit physical activity...
- Is that clear?
- Nobody gets in the hotel.
Nobody gets near the crime scene.
Make it happen, okay?
- Dupree was going in as security.
- Yep.
I'm gonna go over to the hotel.
You take the car. You get over to the lake.
- You find out whatever you can.
- What are you gonna do?
I'm gonna get to Israel before they do.
- I don't think that's gonna work.
- And why?
Because we don't need to bring any more
shit down on our heads.
I'm saying we're gonna hit whoever's
between us and Israel. That's how I'm on it.
I ain't trying to dead the whole floor
and I don't want to be killing no women.
No matter how they make their living.
Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. I'm getting some
fucked-up feedback off of that earpiece.
- That's better?
- Yeah, much.
What you hearing right now?
There was something about some
faggot-ass fed being up in the building.
- A fed? Like FBI?
- Yeah. That's all right though. That's cool.
It's just some little casino inspection.
Don't trip.
All right, then. When them tricks
hit the lobby, I want you to holler at me.
I'm gonna meet them on their way up,
blend in real nice.
Once I'm inside, I'm puttin' chrome
to Israel's head and backing out hot.
Anybody get gully, you know.
I'm gonna grip and rip.
I got some handloads up here
ready to put some niggas out. Trust me.
Just remember it's more
of a rescue than a rampage, all right?
Hey, come on, man.
You know I had to bring big mama through.
- You got the.50 up?
- Sure do.
What the fuck?
What the fuck are you trying to shoot?
A jumbo jet out of the sky?
Blast down the moon?
Any of these niggas make one false move,
these bitches taking dirt naps.
I ain't trying to be up here all day.
And I tell you what.
That bitch-ass fed get in the way,
RIP, nigga.
Fucking Kevlar, the way I had to stitch it,
this shit is itchy as hell.
Let me ask you a question.
You heard from that nigga, Keith?
Or he still fucking
with that little light-skinned girl?
I ain't trying to break a sweat off
of that motherfucker.
Yeah, fuck that nigga, man.
Anyway, we got each other.
That's all the love we ever gonna need.
Feel me?
You feel me, girl?
Oh, wait a minute.
I think the ho train just arrived.
Damn! Four skank-ass bitches.
That's your crew.
Hey, fuck you. All right.
Fuck you and this fucking wig
'cause this shit is getting on my nerves.
I'm on my way out.
I'm going to just chill in the hallway
until they come up in the elevator.
And you let me know, all right?
You just get up in there
and do your thing, baby girl.
Mama's got your back.
Mama's got your back, baby.
SERNA: Buzzy? Buzz?
- Yeah, it's me.
- All right, you got clicks? Anything?
No, nothing on my end.
- So, how we looking?
- Looks very good.
Fucking thrilled to hear it.
So, this sit-down, you must have felt it
from them then, huh?
Cold blood, Sid. Dead eyes.
Okay, yeah, good. So you're at the hotel.
Everything's all right?
It's quiet.
So, you're not seeing anything?
No signs of trouble, nobody lurking,
no threats? Nothing?
Absolutely no.
We got nothing to worry about.
Israel's in the penthouse now, right?
Yeah. I guess he's been holed up there
for a week or so.
- How are we on time?
- The Swede's been dispatched.
He's flying himself.
All right, damn, all right.
So he's headed to Tahoe then, huh?
Yeah. We're in a bit of a footrace
right now, Buzzy.
It's a matter of who outhustles who,
you know? We just got to get to Israel first.
It's getting done, Sid.
We got to get him, Buzz. Everything,
and I mean everything is riding on this.
We're gonna get Israel. Trust me.
HUGO ON RECORDER:
You open the fucking door.
AGENT: I'm sorry, sir.
But this is eyes only.
They told me to hand deliver.
Where did this come from?
They dug it up in archives
as part of the Sparazza investigation.
Has anyone else seen this?
Only the Director himself.
He asked that you contact him immediately.
Should we inform Messner and Carruthers?
No. Things have changed.
Get the Director on the phone
and have our jet at the tarmac at LAX
in half an hour.
Yes, sir.
Officer!
- Hugo, what's happening, man?
- Right.
Well, yeah, hey, you're good to go in.
Hey, man. Where the fuck Vitoli at?
The fuck do you mean? I ain't trying
to clean this shit up myself, dawg.
Hey, don't even think I'm touching
my man's coat
that I know you nutted all over,
you no-aiming ass.
Man, what the fuck was you thinking,
barebacking them bitches, Hugo?
I bet you your dick is disintegrating
as we speak, player!
Stupid-ass motherfucker.
Now, what the fuck is wrong with you, man?
Hugo!
So, what did Mecklen have to say?
They're getting close, man.
Got about a handful of deal points
and then we're getting close.
What are you shaking for, man?
- But it's all good, right?
- Yeah.
- Look at me, man. Look at me.
- What's up? I'm working.
- Yeah, okay.
- What's up?
You believe in loyalty, don't you?
Do I believe in loyalty?
Especially the kind of loyalty
where an otherwise sensible motherfucker
like myself
- put his own best interests aside...
- That's why you're my man.
'Cause outside a goddamn dog,
that kind of loyalty, my kind of shit,
don't get no more dedicated
- or devout.
- What are you trying to say?
What I've been saying. I need to get
your head of security right now.
He's not picking up the extension.
I know that. What floor are they on?
- I don't know right now.
- What floor are they on, Ricky?
Okay, you know,
that's one of our guys right over there.
Excuse me?
Excuse me?
- Excuse me, sir.
- Yes.
Special Agent Donald Carruthers, FBI.
I need to get to
your penthouse level immediately.
Well, I'm headed there right now. Sure.
- Is this an emergency?
- Let's hope not.
I'm going down.
I'll bet you are.
Faggot-ass redneck.
What'd you say?
Not you. Some assholes on the elevator.
Are these bitches
on a permanent smoke break or what?
Oh, wait, wait, wait, wait.
The ho train has left the station.
Yeah, they're headed straight to you.
- Good.
- Skank-ass bitches.
But that's the role you wanted to play.
Yeah, that says a whole lot about you.
A ho, ho lot.
What up, G?
Speak, come on. Speak up.
Bitch, I'm about to ball this.
Okay, then. Punk.
No, it was not made clear to me.
This is the first I'm hearing of it.
Have you contacted Agent Carruthers?
Yeah, cell reception up here is terrible,
but until you or I speak with him,
he's the SAC and he's the guy I answer to...
REPORTER: As to the identity
of the two bodies...
Look, in less than an hour,
you're gonna have
40 to 50-odd field agents
arriving in Lake Tahoe
without the slightest clue as to why.
We are instructed to take Israel
into protective custody.
That's a two-man operation.
What you're describing now
is a much larger movement.
- Messner?
- Listen. Hold it. I need to speak with Locke.
Get him on the phone.
If the situation's changed,
I need to hear it from him.
- You Messner?
- Yeah. Who's this?
Take a look at that. Hollis Elmore.
Vegas resident.
Used to be with the PD down there.
Agent Messner, we recovered the car.
- What car?
- Dupree's car. '89 Cadillac Sedan DeVille.
- Where did you find it?
- Parking structure at the Nomad.
Are the overheads necessary?
Turn the overheads off! Now!
- Not exactly low profile, is this?
- No, sir.
Hotel locked down at all?
I couldn't tell you that right now, sir.
Hugo, what the fuck is wrong
with you, man?
What, you stuck on stupid or something?
I know. You rode a little bus to school.
Hey, man, stop using that fucking lotion,
man. You look like a damn Muppet.
And don't let your bitch cut your hair
no more, dawg.
It look like she put a bowl
on that shit, man. Damn.
Hey, but you need to bring your ass
down here and help me out, Hugo, for real.
I ain't cleaning all this shit up myself, man.
I'm tired.
I ain't no fucking cleaning lady, dawg.
For real. Bring your ass down here. Shit.
What the fuck?
Hell, no. You didn't do that, dawg.
What'd you say to Mecklen?
What I've always been saying,
let's make the fucking deal.
You see,
this is one of them rare moments
where your ass get a chance
to be completely honest.
If I'm asking you what you said to Mecklen,
assume the shit is rhetorical.
Assume I already know.
What do you see right now?
You see exactly and only
what I choose to show you.
That is illusion, Ivy.
That is the lie that I tell your eyes.
Making the magic happen
in the moment, in that split second,
but seeing behind this motherfucker
and knowing
- that it's all bullshit.
- Yeah, you're on some bullshit.
But I can shape it, I can shift it,
I can make it as real as this room.
That's why I'm valuable here, Ivy.
And that is why you are not.
- I ain't valuable?
- I am sorry.
I love you. I never wanted it
to be like this. You know that.
It don't matter what you wanted.
It's what you did.
If you thought old man Primo
could twist your shit up,
wait till you see what I'm about to do here.
I don't believe this.
Battery's completely dead.
Forget it. You won't get a signal in here.
You'll have to wait.
What about that line?
Can't you contact your people with that?
No, these phones
are hardwired directly to maintenance,
but once we reach the penthouse,
I can call down.
I'll have the elevators taken offline, sir.
LOCKE: Pasquale Acosta.
Blood-money mercenary. El Estrago.
The Plague.
When he was caught by the SAS in Belfast.
And in prison,
he chewed off his fingertips to the bone.
Why don't you have maintenance do it?
- Do what, sir?
- Shut the elevator down.
An emergency shutdown
of our entire elevated lift system, sir?
No. That has to be handled by my staff, sir.
How long have you been working here?
Bill?
MAN: Oh, my God, I need an ambulance
for Bill! I'm in the security room.
- Are you anywhere near the penthouse?
- No, no.
But that definitely sounds like gunshots,
and I don't know where it's coming from.
It's your IFB, man.
Somebody got a earpiece.
You just picking up their signal.
We need Nomad hotel security
to lock down the elevators immediately.
Girl. Please don't tell me
this motherfucker just went off.
- Man, these fools.
- What? What's wrong? What?
Man, fucking security's shutting down
the elevators in your building.
AUTOMATED VOICE: Please remain calm.
Now that's the power, there.
Elevator service has been temporarily
suspended and will resume momentarily.
Please remain calm.
Elevator service has been temporarily
suspended and will resume momentarily.
Well, let's get on it, then.
- I wanna pick them down there.
- In the elevator.
More duct. Come on, more duct.
A little more duct.
That's how we do!
Now, okay, okay.
Now, I'm a registered nurse
and this was my bath not a half hour ago.
Whoopsie. We'll take care of that.
Hey, Boogie! I need you to go in,
get my heating pad, get my blanket.
- Nana, not during training.
- Okay, Grandma's big helper boy?
Nana, Nana. Nana?
Grandma will get it. Go on.
Little angel butt.
I feel like you're eyeballing me, dawg!
I don't like punk bitches eyeballing me.
You got beef? You got beef?
You want some of this? Yeah.
What? What?
See? Skills. Skills.
Fucking stop it.
Yeah!
FEMALE REPORTER: The two men
were slain here earlier today,
as authorities speculate as to
the apparent disappearance of a third.
The name of one victim is being withheld,
but the other victim in being identified
as Jack Dupree...
Oh, shit. Goddamn it!
Son of a fucking bitch! Fuck!
MALE REPORTER:
The vehicle registered in Mr Dupree's name
has been recovered in the parking lot
of the Nomad Hotel and Casino.
Don, if you can hear this,
I'm in the hotel, north side.
I changed lives for you.
You ain't never had to wash
another man's blood off,
dig it out of your fingernails.
You had us for that.
You ain't never made no real beef
on your own.
Shit, as light in the ass as you are,
bet you ain't never had to make
nothing more
- than a fucking fist your whole life.
- Ivy...
So if you think I'm gonna let
your little punk ass with the dirt I done...
Listen to me.
...sell me off like a fucking field nigga...
- You know I wouldn't.
...hand me to the feds like your last chip...
Whatever you think, whatever...
You must be out of your fucking mind.
If you...
Motherfuck! Motherfucker!
You're out of your fucking mind!
You fucked up...
You're fucked up, Ivy!
- Hugo! You hit?
- No! No, no, no!
- Mr Israel!
- I'm in here! Ivy's trying to kill me!
- Motherfuck you!
- Fuck you!
- Get in here!
- Come on.
Shit.
Drop that goddamn gun now
or you're a dead man!
Jesus Christ. Beanie's dead.
You murdered Beanie.
Put the guns down. He's got nothing.
Get him out of here.
- Jimmy, cuff him.
- Put him in...
Take him to the service exit. It's quick.
Get back here. We'll handle the rest of it.
You all right, Hugo?
- He's fine.
- He's giving us up to the feds, Hugo!
Yo, get out of here, Hugo, man!
He working with them people, Hugo!
It's all bullshit. You know that, Hugo.
You all right? You stay with me.
Stay with me.
Mecklen's gonna call any second, all right?
All right? You with me?
You with me, baby? Huh?
We're almost home.
These two are down.
What the fuck is going on?
Come on, you fucker.
WATTERS: Forget it. It's done.
Hey, quit saying that, all right?
Girl, I just saw muzzle flashes
coming from that suite.
That's probably
where you heard the shots earlier.
Somebody just deaded Israel's ass.
It's a wrap.
I ain't come all this way just to pack it up
because you thinking something up.
Whatever, man. We can bounce out,
chill for a little bit.
Shoot a little craps. Maybe spend the night.
Come on, baby, look.
We could break down now...
Shit, girl.
What?
These two dudes
just sitting in the elevator, all shot up.
Whatever it was, it got way past words.
What are they doing right now?
Dying.
So, them fellas, the ones that was shot
and tossed into the lake?
Them police officers, too?
Them are left over after my hysterectomy,
so they'd be a few years old.
I'm not gay because I have a beard.
My fingers are cut off.
Poor me.
Warren, go and practise
your nunchakus now.
Leave us be alone, shug.
Go on, now, shug.
Anytime, anytime, fag.
I am sorry about that boy.
His mama abandoned him
going on a year now
and his daddy, my boy Dale,
he's over at the Reno-Washoe
Correctional Facility.
Got some clarity issues.
Did some home-invasion,
sodomy-torture type stuff.
Wrote a bunch of bad cheques.
My husband, Bill, committed suicide
by hanging about nine months back.
And ever since then, little Boogie there
has been man of the house.
I don't think that's been opened
since my husband died.
I might just borrow this for a little while.
MESSNER: Your IFB working?
No, that's why we're on walkies.
Jurisdiction's a nightmare right now.
- Anything more on Dupree's car?
- Nothing.
You mean to tell me that nobody noticed
anyone getting out of a Cadillac
that looked like a wiffle ball?
- I know.
- Where's your guy?
Right here.
Ricky, this is Agent Messner.
Tell him exactly what happened,
nice and slow.
Yeah, so, earlier,
there was that guy, Carruthers...
Yeah, Agent Carruthers.
Do you know where he is?
- No. He wanted to know...
- Yeah, he's here right now.
We're talking to the kid.
We need about two minutes.
...which floor security was on.
And then later I saw him get on the elevator
with the other agent.
Wait, hold on. Wait a minute.
What other agent?
There were no other agents.
Our agents are landing here now.
- There was nobody here.
- He said he was from San Francisco.
Did he give you a name?
Spanish something. It was Diego or Garcia.
Yeah, run both those names
through the DC database.
Something stinks here.
Call San Francisco. See if they...
You know,
he was wearing one of our jackets.
- What?
- Who was?
The other agent.
He said he was here to do some inspections.
Then later, when I saw him get on
the elevator with Carruthers...
This man identified himself
as a federal agent?
Yeah, I mean, he had the badge
and everything.
And when you saw him later,
he was wearing one of your security jackets.
Yeah.
And that didn't seem odd to you?
I mean, I thought they gave it to him
so he could...
Walk with me.
Okay, so obviously,
we got a man posing as one of us.
Make your team aware,
but do it quietly. Okay?
Fuck it.
Okay, now let's get
a tactical team assembled. We're going up.
Okay, we need to get
these elevators powered up.
All right, maintenance,
I need somebody
to power up these elevators immediately.
I need to get Deputy Director Locke
on a hard line as soon as possible.
All right, done.
Come on, step back, step back.
- Come on...
- Are you kidding?
I thought you were gonna go...
Gonna go down and get Vitoli.
Get him back up here.
We gotta...
We gotta pack up.
We gotta pack it up now.
Bring him up here. We gotta get packed up.
We're gonna pack it up.
All right? Where is he?
- WATTERS: He's dead.
- No, I said dying, not dead.
Shit.
Shit, girl.
One of them is a fed.
Hello, did you hear me?
Did you hear what I said?
I said one of them has got a FBI badge.
Wait a minute, wait a minute.
Hold up, hold up.
I'm getting all kinds of shit
over this scanner.
- Just chill for a second.
- AGENT: Shots fired. West tower. Nomad...
All right, hold on.
Just lay still for a minute.
Let me figure out... What the fuck...
Get out of the way.
Fuck.
You ain't gonna believe this shit.
Both these motherfuckers is feds.
No. One of them is not.
One of them is bullshit.
It's all over the air here.
They got a impostor.
Some fool with a fake badge.
You think it might be that motherfucker
that Loretta was telling us about? Soot?
Wait. Hold up, hold up.
What I got here is a Gerald Diego.
A Donald Carruthers.
Which one of them is for real?
'Cause I'm gonna kill the one that ain't.
Stop the elevator. Stop the elevator.
Come on.
They revoked the deal.
They revoked the deal. They pulled it.
Wait, wait. What do you mean?
What do you mean, man?
We got it, we got 'em, we got 'em.
What do you mean?
I don't know. It was the Deputy Director.
That prick, Locke.
He just smashed everything.
He wouldn't tell me why.
We're done.
They're yanking us, Buddy.
They killed us. They killed us.
Three minutes.
Prepare to move.
North elevator door's open.
Possible aggression inside.
Check your fire.
Clear on my mark.
Shar. Shar seven,
I'm pinched.
Bring some heavy shit.
Fire from the sky. My count.
Bet.
Oh, my God.
SYKESS: Bring it.
Get the fuck down!
Get down!
Put your fucking hands in the air!
Throw your weapons down!
Step out of the elevator!
- Are these feds fake or real?
- I don't know!
Please, Sharice!
Oh, shit! I'm shot!
Georgia!
Georgia, where are you?
I can't fucking hear you.
How bad?
- Mortal.
- What?
- Mortal.
- No.
Fuck!
Secure these suspects!
I need medical assistance.
I got multiple officers down.
- Watch him.
- You're okay. No, no. Stay awake.
Get me a medic! Get me a fucking medic!
- Where's that medic?
- Fuck.
If you can hear me, girl,
I can't see shit from where I am.
I'm moving down for a better sight line.
I got officers down.
Repeat, on the seventh floor, officers down.
Let me isolate the...
Never mind! Just get in there.
Get in there and pin that girl!
Sharice? Can you hear me? I'm hit.
Oh, shit.
I don't know how bad this is. Shit.
That shit probably got through that Kevlar.
It's on the way up to the penthouse.
Lester!
Fuck.
- Move! Move! Hurry!
- Clear the valet area.
Fuck. Come on!
AGENT: Left side of the building's
sealed off.
Goddamn. Can you hear me?
Get this shit off!
Move!
Girl, where are you?
God damn it, Georgia! Just say something!
Mother...
Fuck!
I'm hit!
We need a medic!
Fuck!
Fuck!
Get me a medic!
I need a medic. I need a medic.
Somebody get him out of there!
I fucked up.
I fucked up!
I got three coming down now.
Go! Move. Move.
Forgive me.
Get your hands up!
Check the vitals on this guy.
Initiate all clear.
- Clear.
- Clear.
Floor's secure, sir.
Okay, come in.
Hold him there till we get somebody up.
Where is Carruthers and Messner?
Carruthers is dead.
Messner's unaccounted for.
Account for him!
- What's your name, baby girl?
- Georgia.
Georgia.
You know you saved this black man.
Now all you got to be is grateful.
You hurting pretty bad, huh?
I got shot twice.
I think I accidentally shot and killed
my boy today.
If it gives you any comfort, you know,
I was going in there to act a fool, baby.
Straight-rocking heat, slaying niggas, man.
For real?
Your boy very well
might have been one of them.
I probably would've busted on you, too.
What a shame that would have been.
What was you doing here, anyway?
We was after some fool named Israel.
Damn, girl,
you're gonna make a nigga fall hard.
Put her down. Put her down
and get up against the wall right now.
Show me your hands.
Show me your fucking hands!
Drop the gun down or I'll fucking drain you.
Put the gun down!
I didn't do your man downstairs.
I found him like that.
Whether you believe me or not,
you know, that ain't even the least bit
important right now.
We're going to work this out and live,
or we gonna keep doing the same shit
we've been doing.
I ain't got no problem with you
or your Bureau,
so I think you're better off just moving on
and letting us be.
Agent Messner is on his way in.
- Agent Messner.
- What's going on?
Are you all right, son?
You need some medical attention?
No, I don't need medical attention.
Tell me what's going on.
- Okay, come on, sit down.
- Please, no, I don't want to sit. Explain it.
It's very difficult to explain everything
right now.
Much larger matters loom.
I'm sorry to hear about Carruthers.
- He's a good man.
- Director Locke?
He's had a sustained arrhythmic episode,
severe cardiac distress.
I can't help him here.
We have to take him to...
Okay, gentlemen,
let's get him up on the roof.
Get Mr Israel up on the roof.
He's travelling back with us.
I can't explain everything right now.
No, I...
- I need you to go back to Washington.
- What the hell happened here?
I'm sorry,
I cannot disclose anything more right now.
So many people are dead.
I need you to return to Washington.
- You'll be debriefed in the days to come.
- Explain it now.
Go back to Washington.
There he goes!
No, don't shoot me!
Don't shoot me, please!
He went this way! Please, don't shoot me.
Don't shoot! Please! Don't shoot.
FBI. You gotta get up there! Got to go!
Get these hotel guests out
in the hallway there.
Just clear them down the hall.
Make room. Make room, please.
We'll have to go all the way around
to the other side.
Clear the way here. Clear the way.
Hey.
- That your car?
- No, I...
I'm confiscating it.
FBI.
- Oh, you're FBI.
- Yeah.
Yes, I am. I would advise you
to lower your weapon, sir.
You're investigating those murders
out at the lake, huh?
- Say what?
- Three men were ambushed and shot.
Two died
and had their bodies dumped in the lake.
The other has severe hypothermia,
possible dementia, and will probably be
a multiple amputee by week's end.
Shit, okay. You're right.
I'm sorry.
You shot me.
And you murdered my friends.
Yeah, I know.
- And you dumped us in the lake.
- Pretty much.
You were here hunting
the man named Israel, weren't you?
Is that who you was here for? Israel?
I guess we both got beat out then,
didn't we?
Yeah, goddamn.
Crazy motherfuckers up there, huh?
Gee whiz.
Just give us your keys
and get the fuck out of here.
Okay.
I'm really sorry about all that.
Shit gets wild and crazy.
Fate just up and fucks you
for no good reason.
You know?
It's the way of the world!
The way it's always gonna be.
Okay, now.
Peace, bro.
Oh, fuck this.
Suicide of some sort.
You know, troubles with the law. Drugs.
Deal with the patients.
All right, Doctor, thank you.
You know, just make it sound good.
Okay.
Where's Israel?
- What are you doing here?
- My debriefing.
Your debriefing? Your debriefing
will be handled in DC, like I told you.
No, we need to handle it now.
You are instructed to get out...
What are you doing, Agent Messner?
Walk. Let's go.
You're going to tell me
why no call was made
to inform us that the Israel situation
had been altered.
Why I and my friend and partner,
whose body
is going into a furnace tomorrow,
were never fucking contacted.
- I cannot discuss it.
- You can and you will.
You are finished.
Look at my fucking face.
You just figure that out?
Get that gun out of my spine
or engage the safety, please.
Thank you.
Make it make sense.
They are father and son.
Israel's mother was 19
at the time when she and Sparazza
had a brief affair
of which Israel was the byproduct.
That same year,
she brought a paternity suit against him.
Paternity suit? Just for fun?
Our surveillance of Padiche, Serna...
All bogus and bad information
that set off a series of unfortunate events.
- He's gonna clip Israel.
- Buddy Israel.
Buddy Israel.
Buddy Israel.
- They got a guy. Some Swede.
- Swede?
- Any word on this Swede?
...the mention of this mysterious Swede.
There's no Swedish hit man
on anyone's radar.
Dr Ingstrom, the Swede,
is not a hired killer.
Supposedly a specialist.
He's had a sustained arrhythmic episode,
severe cardiac distress.
He's actually the head of cardiology
at Stockholm University.
Primo wants Israel's heart.
- Heart?
- Mention of Israel's heart?
He's one of the best heart surgeons
in the world.
The actual contract went to Lazlo Soot,
the man who escaped
the penthouse yesterday...
Don't shoot me!
...in disguise.
He was hired by Sparazza
to neutralise Israel's entourage.
Dr Ingstrom was here
to perform the surgery.
And as father and son,
they are blood compatible.
You're talking about a transplant,
aren't you?
You're talking about
a fucking heart transplant.
You're gonna kill Israel to save Sparazza.
No.
Well, they dug it up in archives
as part of the Sparazza investigation.
That Sparazza
had major elective plastic surgery?
It wasn't elective.
It was undertaken to save his life.
Look at the work he's had done.
It wasn't cosmetic. It was reconstructive.
Look at the date of the first procedure.
Fifteen separate procedures since 1952.
Same year that Sparazza
supposedly murdered Freeman Heller.
I'd like to show you exactly what I meant
when I said, "Change my face."
Using the latest techniques
in cosmetic surgery,
I will have my ears pinned back.
Removing a slight piece of bone in my chin
I will alter my jaw line.
A procedure known as rhinoplasty
will reduce the size of my nose.
If you add facial hair
to the equation, gentlemen,
you have a face
that looks nothing like mine,
and more importantly,
nothing like a federal agent's.
- Oh, Christ.
- I will maintain a slight limp.
My accent will be a regional Calabrese.
My birthplace, Cosenza, Italy.
That's him.
And my name...
- That's Heller.
...will be Primo Sparazza.
Now, gentlemen, I understand
that this is a dramatic approach.
He went deep cover in 1940.
He could have ripped the Mafia apart.
But I firmly believe...
Dismantled most of the organised crime
in this country.
...this is the only way
to truly infiltrate organised crime.
His superiors were convinced
that he had gone rogue,
swapped allegiances,
so they gave the order
to terminate his cover.
All this time, we were told
that it was Sparazza that killed Heller,
when it was us, the FBI.
And we didn't kill him.
He survived. But the injuries he sustained
required constant surgery,
forever altering his features.
So he assumed the identity of his alter ego.
The figment of Primo Sparazza
became flesh and blood,
and Freeman Heller was no more.
Now, the brass wanted Heller's op
removed from official records,
so they buried it completely
and they wrote Heller off.
All the agents from that era,
they're dead and gone,
so history defaulted to fable.
Until now. Heller's op predated
the second World War.
About 60 years of amassed intel.
Do you have any idea
of how valuable that is?
Yeah.
So you made another deal, didn't you?
Israel's deal with the government
was tossed out.
We are now trying to rehabilitate him,
so we can attempt a transplant.
You realise that you're doing this
to save Sparazza?
No, son. I'm doing all this to save Heller.
So you send us in there, bugles blaring,
and when it bottoms out,
we're the last to know!
We need cohesion
to move forward son, not...
Oh, shitcan the cue-card rhetoric
and talk to me like a man.
You withheld information while
Carruthers lay dying in vain and in the dark.
And your reasons for doing that
are exactly what?
That?
Some mob fossil?
A monster that the Bureau built?
You tell me something,
is he the Rosetta Stone
that's going to blow the lid off
the last 60 years?
Possibly.
Is he gonna show you
where all the bodies are buried?
Or is his ultimate worth bullshit?
Utterly useless?
- That's a risk we take.
- Yeah, empty pockets.
Empty pockets paid for
by the lives of our own people.
You're blowing this way out of proportion.
Are you out of your fucking mind?
- My guy is dead.
- You're starting to piss me off.
The Bureau betrayed us.
- Wake up.
- You betrayed us...
- Stop pointing...
...Deputy Director Locke.
Get that thing out of my face.
You betrayed us
the way you betrayed them.
You fucking asshole!
Okay, if you like, I'll take
your verbal resignation right here,
right now.
Do you want your career to end here, now,
like this?
Your call.
Now, I'm prepared to dismiss your behaviour.
And in light of what's happened,
I understand it.
I really do, and I'm truly sorry.
But a decision has been made.
And we're required to abide by it,
regardless of our personal feelings.
Feelings that might run contrary
to the collective good.
And that, I need you to understand.
It's time for you to get on a jet back to DC
and make no further inquiry into this matter.
Is that understood, Agent Messner?
Are we clear, Agent Messner?
We're clear.
We're clear.