Out of Sight Collector Edition
- You have a loan app? Wonderful.|- Yeah. Terrific.
My wife and l were having dinner|the other night-- recently married.
- How can l help you, sir?|- Loretta,
see the man talking|to your bank manager has his case open?
Oh, that's Mr. Gwendon,|one of our assistant managers.
Our manager is Mr. Schoen,|but he's not in today.
-But you see the man with the briefcase.|-Yes.
That's my partner.|He has a gun in there.
lf you don't do exactly|what l tell you or if you give me|any kind of problem at all,
l'm going to look at my partner|and he's going to shoot your|Mr. Gwendon between the eyes.
All right, take one of those big|envelopes and put as many 100s,|50s and 20s as you can into it.
Nothing with bank straps|or rubber bands. l don't want|dye packs. l don't want bait money.
Start with the second drawer,|and then the one over there,|under the money counter.
Okay. lt's okay. Come on, Loretta.|Key's right next to you.
There you go.
No bills off the bottom|of the drawer, please.
This your first time|being robbed?
You're doing great. Just smile so you|don't look like you're being held up.
You got a very pretty smile.
You got 20s? Give me the 20s.|l'll take those.
There you go.|l'll put those in my pocket.
There you go.
l have to give my partner a sign.|Now, that's good.
He's gonna wait|until l'm out of the building,|make sure you haven't set off the alarm.
lf you have, he's gonna shoot your|Mr. Gwendon between the eyes. Okay?
- Okay.|- l think that'll do it, Loretta.
Thank you.|Have a nice day.
Hey-- she's cute, isn't she?
Yeah, she seems very nice.
Who was that?
No, no, no, no, no.
Son of a bitch!
l think you flooded it.|Get out of the car, sir.
- Hey, you wanna hear a funny story?|- Shut up and get out of the car!
Go, go, go!
You want somethin', Foley?
Some fellas are goin' out of here.|What if l tell you where and when?
- How many?|- Expect you to look out for me,|let me run off work detail--
Okay, okay.|How many goin' out?
- l hear six.|- When?
- Tonight.|- You know who they are?
Yes, l do.|But l'm not gonna tell you just yet.
Meet me in the chapel,|just before lockdown. Okay?
- You all right?|- l love you, baby.
Tonight's the big night.|You excited?
- lt's Super Bowl Sunday, okay?|- See you moved it up.
- Why you think that?|- l saw you runnin' this mornin'.
Stickin' to your routine|in case anybody happened to notice.
But you only did a couple of miles,|instead of your usual five.
Saving yourself for the big event. What|happened? Finish ahead of schedule?
Mira, you see those posts out there?
They're putting up another fence|15 feet back the fence that's|already there, you know?
So you figure, mira,|we wait till Super Bowl Sunday,|they have that fence built...
then, cono, we gotta dig what,|another nine, ten days, baby?
- Yeah.|- l don't think so.
So tonight, when it gets dark,|batta-bing, l'm outta here.|Come on, Foley. You could come.
l appreciate the offer,|and it's tempting.
lt's a long run to civilization.|What's it? A hundred miles to Miami?
l'm too old to be tryin'|a stunt like that.
So, you send me a postcard|when you get out.
- Adele Delisi speaking.|- Will you accept a collect call|from Jack Foley?
Yeah, l'll accept.
- Hey, Adele, how you doin'?|- Hey, bank robber.
Want some advice? Next time,|keep the engine running.
- Huh-huh. That's funny!|- What do you want, Jack?
Adele, you know that Super Bowl party|that was for next Sunday?
They changed the date.|lt's tonight at 6:30.
- Didn't you tell me one time|calls aren't monitored?|- l said, not as a rule.
So why don't you just come right out|and tell me what you're talkin' about?
- Listen to Miss Smarty Mouth,|out there in the free world.|- Oh, yeah, what's free about it?
l'm lookin' for work.
- What about Mandrake the Magician?|- Emil, The Amazing, huh?
He fired me.|Hired a younger girl-- a redhead.
Adele, the reason l'm calling--|they changed the date.
lt is tonight. lt's 6:30.|That's like a few hours from now.
- You tell Buddy--|- Okay, all right, and the guy|driving the other car?
- What are you talking about?|- Well, seeing as you have|so much luck with cars,
Buddy thought it might be|better to bring two, you know?
He got this guy who says|you know him, from Lompoc--
- Uh, Glenn somebody--|- Glenn Michaels.
Uh-huh, that's him. Buddy said|Glenn thinks you guys are real cool.
- Adele?|- Yeah?
You tell Buddy l see Glenn wearing|his sunglasses, l'm gonna step on 'em.
- Might not even take 'em off first.|- Okay, honey. l'll do that.
Now, you try not to get shot. Bye.
Here, ma'am.|Let me help you with these.
Beautiful young lady like you|shouldn't be carrying groceries.
Let a man do that for you.
Now, l didn't ask for your help,|so don't expect a tip.
Oh, that's okay, ma'am.|l'll just take your car.
Did you fit another|Chanel suit in here?
Something much better.|Go ahead, open it.
Oh, my God.|lt's beautiful.
- lt's a, um--|- Sig Sauer 380.
- Right.|- Oh, l love it!
- How 'bout some more coffee?|- You know, l can't.
l have to go out to Glades, and then|l'm meeting Ray Nicolet at 10:00.
Which one is that?|The A.T.F. guy?
Actually, he's with the F.B.l. now.|He switched over.
- He's still married, though.|- Technically. They're separated.
- Well, so he's moved out then.|- He's about to.
- Well, then they're|not separated, are they?|- Can we not talk about this?
- What are you doing at Glades?|- Serving process--|a summons and complaint.
Some con doing mandatory life|doesn't like macaroni and cheese.
So, he files suit. Says he doesn't have|any choice in what they serve,
and that violates|his civil rights.
- You can step in, work full-time|as one of my investigators.|- No, thanks.
- You used to like it.|- Dad.
You'd meet doctors, lawyers-- nothing|wrong with them, if they're divorced.
Karen, why waste your time|on some cowboy cop...
who drinks too much|and cheats on his wife?
That's how those hot shots are--|all of 'em!
l really gotta go.
We don't talk much anymore.
How 'bout l come over Sunday|and we watch the Super Bowl together?
l'd like that.
Thanks for the gun, Dad.
They're right underneath you, Pup.|They dug a tunnel.
l don't hear anything.|Where's the tunnel come out?
Fourth post|from the guard tower.
l don't see nothin'.
You just keep watchin'.
Federal Bureau of lnvestigation,|how may l direct your call?
Yeah, this is Karen Sisco again|for Ray Nicolet.
The line is busy.|Would you like his voice mail?
No, forget it.|l'll call back later.
- All right.|- Thanks.
Still don't see anything.
You will directly.
Wait a minute.
What the fuck?
Two men by the fence!
What the hell is she doin'?
Stop! Get your hands|in the air!
Tunnel's clear.|Seal up the north face.
- What happened?|- What the hell do you think,|jackass? Got a jail break!
Cubans out in the cane. Don't point|that thing at me. Hey, Buddy.
- lt's okay, we're the good guys.|- What are you doing here?
All right. You're just a girl. What do|you do for a living you pack a shotgun?
- l'm a federal marshal|and you're under arrest.|- That's probably all the hacks.
Why don't we talk|about this later?
Watch your head.
l'm in. Let's go!
- Hey! You comfy?|- lf l could have a little more room--
Well, there isn't any.
We got a lot of shit in here.|We got handcuffs in here.
What's in this can?
That's for your breath. You could|use it-- squirt some in your mouth.
Yeah, well, that's mace, isn't it?
All right, you! Get--
Hey. Where's your gun-- pistol?
ln my bag, in the car.
Boy, it stunk in there.
l believe it. You're ruining|a $900 suit my dad gave me.
Yeah, it went great|with that 12-gauge too.
Why in the world would someone like you|become a federal marshal?
- The idea of going after|guys like you appealed to me.|- Sorry, what was that?
Guys like me?|Let me tell you something.
Even though l've been celibate lately,|l'm not going to force myself on you.
- l've never done that in my life.|- You wouldn't have time, anyway.
We come to a roadblock, they run the car|and find out who it belongs to.
That's if they get set up in time,|which l doubt. lf they do,
they'll be lookin' for a bunch|of little Latin fellas, not|a big black guy drivin' a Ford.
He must be quite a pal,|to risk his own ass like this.
Buddy? Yeah, he's a good guy.
Back when we jailed together,|he used to call his sister|every week, without fail.
She's a born-again Christian. She does|bookkeeping for a televangelist.
He'd call her up,|confess his sins.
He'd tell her whatever bank|he happened to rob at the time.
Buddy-- that|his given name?
The one l gave him, yeah.
So, what's your name?
Be in the paper|tomorrow, anyway.
Jack Foley.|You've probably heard of me.
-Why? Are you famous?|-The time l was convicted in California,
the F.B.l. told me that l'd robbed|more banks than anybody in the computer.
- How many was that?|- Tell you the truth,|l don't really know.
Started when l was 18 years old,|driving for my Uncle Cully,|and his partner, Gus.
So, basically you're saying|you spent half your life in prison.
Basically, yeah.|l go back, l do 30 years. No time off.
- You imagine lookin' at that?|- l don't have to. l don't rob banks.
You don't seem all that scared.
- Of course l am.|- You don't act like it.
What do you want me|to do, scream?
That wouldn't help much, anyway.
No, l'm just gonna sit here, take it|easy, and wait for you to screw up.
You sound like my ex-wife.
- You were married?|- Just for about a year,|give or take a few days.
lt's not like we didn't get along--|we had fun. We just...
didn't have... that thing,|you know, that uh--
- That spark, you know?|Gotta have that.|- Mm-hmm.
- We still talk, though.|- Sure.
This is not gonna end well.|These things never do.
lf it turns out l get shot|like a dog, it's gonna be in the street,
not off a goddamn fence.
You must really see yourself|as some kind of Clyde Barrow, huh?
- You mean, of Bonnie and Clyde?|- Yeah.
The part in the movie where they get|shot, when it's Warren Beatty and--
- Faye Dunaway.|- Faye Dunaway, yeah.
- l like her in that movie about TV.|- Network, yeah, she was good.
And that guy says he's not gonna|take any more shit from anybody.
- Peter Finch.|- Yeah! Peter Finch.
''l'm mad as hell, and l'm not|gonna take any more of your shit!''
ln that part where they get shot,|l can remember thinkin' to myself,
thinkin', ''Hey, that wouldn't be|such a bad way to go, if you had to.''
You sure are easy to talk to.
l was thinkin', if we met|under different circumstances--
if you were in a bar and|l came up and we started talkin'--
- l wonder what would happen.|- Nothing.
- lf you didn't know who l was.|- You'd probably tell me.
- Just saying if we met|under different circumstances--|- You have got to be kidding.
Another movie l liked with Faye Dunaway|was Three Days of the Condor.
The one with Robert Redford|when he was young.
You know, l never thought|it made sense, though--
you know, the way|they got together so quick.
- l mean, romantically.|- Mm-hmm.
Well, but it-- if-- uh.|All right.
Here we go. All right.|Where the hell are we?
At the turnpike. Glenn's right above us|with the other car.
- All right, c'mon. Hop on out.|- Turn around and get your hands up!
We may as well leave her.|We're leavin' the car...
and we gotta leave her someplace,|anyway-- what's the difference where?
- She's comin' with us.|- Jesus Christ, what were|you doing in there?
- Look for a name.|- l already looked.
Her name is Karen Sisco. Like|the Cisco Kid, only spelled different.
All right, Karen?|You be a good girl, now.
l'm gonna open up the trunk.
Hey, hey, hey, now!|Now, you're puttin' holes in your car!
l'm not leavin' you.|l'm gonna open the trunk enough|for you to drop your pistol out.
Now, if you shoot, Buddy's got|your shotgun, he's gonna shoot back.
There's nothin' l can do about it,|so it's up to you.
Hey. Don't!|lt's Glenn! Whoa!
Fuck! Hey, hey, Jack.|Good to see you, man.
What the fuck|are you guys shooting at?
- Do we need 'im?|- The cop saw this car.
- He might tie it to the break|and turn around.|- All right.
- Hey, Studs. We didn't recognize ya.|- Hey, ''Studs,'' man.
l haven't heard that since Lompoc, man.|So what's goin' on?
Karen. Are you comin' out?
- You hear that?|- Okay!
You win, Jack.
Now, you get your clothes cleaned,|you send me the bill.
l'll send it to you at Glades.
What, did you crawl through|a sewer, man? Who're you?
- Take your sunglasses off.|- l see better with 'em on, man.
You don't take 'em off|l'm gonna throw them off|while they're still on your head.
- Go wait in the car.|- Um, we're in civilization now,|so you can ease up a little bit.
l'm sorry. l'd like you|to wait in the car, please.|Take her, put her in the back.
- Okay. ln the trunk?|- ln the backseat! ln the backseat!
- Backseat. Okay, you gotta come now,|'cause l gotta do this--|- Gimme your jacket.
Somebody forgot|to bring the clean clothes.
l brought 'em. They're at Glades|in the back of the Cadillac.
You decided to jump|into the trunk of her car.
You can blame me if you want.|l don't mind.
- Here, sir.|- l'll tell you--
- What's your problem, Jack?|- l don't know why you got Glenn|involved in this.
- How 'bout the score was|his idea to begin with?|- ldea--
The guy's got a fuckin'|vacant lot for a head.
He thinks he can talk|to me like that? Shit.
''Gimme your jacket.'' l have been|sitting here for over a half-hour,
watchin' out for the Highway Patrol,|if you think that's fun.
God. You know, l hadda go|over there in the bushes...
to smoke a joint, just so l could like--|you know?
Yep. l got somethin'|big lined up, up north.
Yeah, these guys? Wouldn't even fuckin'|know about it if it wasn't for me.
- Every time he opens his mouth,|l wanna punch him out.|- He's not the problem, Jack.
You wanna pull your head|outta your ass, tell me why the hell|we're bringing her with us?
You don't remember me, do you?
Um, couldn't have been Glades|if that's what you're thinkin',|'cause l was never out there.
- No, that's not what l'm thinking.|- Oh, yeah?
But you're sure|we've met, huh?
l drove you from the Palm Beach County|Jail to the federal courthouse... twice.
You're Glenn Michaels.
l never forget anybody|l've cuffed and shackled.
Now let's think about this for a minute,|Glenn, see if we can't work it out.
Do we have a gun in the car?
Oh, shit!|l remember you! Hey!
Foley's not gonna make it,|and if he goes down, you go with him.
- Now, look. l can understand|if you guys are close, but--|- No, we're not.
- But, yeah. l'm helpin' him.|- Now wait a minute, Glenn.
Have you helped him?
l mean, technically,|at this point, l doubt you could be|charged with aiding a fugitive.
So you still have a choice.
You wanna take her to my place, get|cleaned up, come out of the bathroom...
with your aftershave on, and she goes,|''Oh. l had you all wrong.''
No. l just wanna talk|to her again, that's all.
l just wanna see what it might have|been like under normal circumstances.
lt's too late for that, Jack.
He wants to get out of here,|and l don't blame him.
Ref don't call it soon, Snoop's gonna|send this cat out in a body bag.
Anybody ever tell you|why they call him ''Snoopy''?
He used to be|Maurice ''Mad Dog'' Miller...
back when he was a pro.
Now you pet him,|he goes down.
- l don't believe it!|- Oh, my!
Yeah, you the man.
Guy's bragging he won|a thrown fight.
Dangerous is what it is.
- Who's the bald dude?|- Richard Ripley.
The Wall Street guy?
Call him Dick The Ripper on account|of all the guys he ripped off.
Oh, yeah. l didn't|recognize him without his rug.
- What's his bid?|- Three years.
You guys on the bench? Okay.
Three years, fined $50 million|and wrote 'em a fuckin' check.
Just like that.
Fifty mill, signed his name.
Didn't even-- Didn't even--|Okay, a little help.
Heavy! Come on!
All the bright glare out here,|you couldn't read the numbers|on the weights.
Oh. l had it. Jesus.
- How do you know he wrote a check?|- Uh, he told me.
We work laundry together.
Guy loves to fucking talk.
Yeah, he loves to talk.|He talked to the U.S. attorney.
Rolled over on all the snitches|he was doing business with.
Hey! Any guy who can write|a fuckin' check for $50 million,
he says anything,|l'm all fuckin' ears.
Guy tells me he's got|all this money in foreign banks.
Plus, around, mmm,
five million in uncut diamonds|at his house.
He said, quote,
that l can get my hands on it|at any time.
- Where does he live?|- Detroit.
Snoopy Miller says that uncut diamonds|are as easy to move as cash.
Ever seen|an uncut diamond, Studs?
Looks just like|a plain, old rock.
Wait, you think this guy's lying?
What do you think, Studs? Use|your head. Some guy's got $5 million...
socked away in his house,|and he's gonna tell some motormouth|he just met in prison about it.
Oh, l see.|You guys are cynical. Right.
Here it comes.
Keep on walking. Keep walking.
You don't wanna be|answering any questions.
l'm just saying|she wasn't scared, that's all.
That's 'cause she had|her hand on her gun the whole time|waitin' to make her move.
You're just jealous 'cause|it was me in the trunk with her...
- and not you.|- You're right.
The first thing l'm gonna do...|is get this mud off me.
You were talking|in your sleep.
What'd l say?
Daniel Burdon, F.B.l.
Marshall Sisco, Karen's dad.
- Hmm.|- Hmm.
Would you mind, please,|waiting outside?
We have some business|to do here.
Well, uh, l have|to use the john anyway.
- Excuse me.|- Yeah.
l wanna be|on the task force, Daniel.
That's nice of you|to offer, Karen, but...
l got all the help|l can use right now.
lnstead, let's talk about|how you got that bump on your head.
lsn't that my file|you're holding on to?
Yes, but l want|to hear it from you,
starting... with when|you grabbed the wheel.
Where was this?
Coming to the Okeechobee exit.
- Sit back!|- Can you see with those glasses on?
l'm fine!|This is... stupid, man.
These guys are gonna be|so disappointed in me, man.
You know what?|lf l wasn't stoned,
there is no way that you would have|talked me into this.
- Remember that.|- Get off at the exit|right after that bridge.
No, l am not fucking turning|myself in, so forget it!
- Get off at that exit!|- What exit?
-That exit right there. Take that exit!|-Sit back! No!
The next thing l knew,
the paramedics were|pulling me out of the car.
- You all right?|- There's a couple|of points l keep wondering about--
have to do with the two guys|that grabbed you.
Buddy, is it?|And this fella Jack Foley.
l swear, the man must have robbed|over 200 banks in his time.
- Really?|- Um-hmm.
He told me he didn't|remember how many he robbed.
Then you talked to him.
ln the trunk, yeah.
What'd you talk about?
This fella holds you hostage,|you talk about movies?
lt was an unusual experience.
You know, Foley made me think|of that fella Carl Tillman.
The one that you were seeing,|it turns out, the same time|he was robbing banks.
- Do you recall that?|- And what happened to Carl?
The time came, you shot him. But you|didn't shoot Foley or the guy with him.
They're unarmed, you had a shotgun|and you let them throw you in the trunk.
Okay. Now you got|your Sig in your hand,
and you say in the report|that you couldn't turn around.
He had you pinned down.|But when the trunk opened,
how come you didn't|cap the two guys then?
What do you work on most of the time?|Fraud? Go after crooked bookkeepers?
Karen, l've been with the bureau|15 years on all kinds of investigations.
- Have you ever shot a man?|- No.
- When was the last time you were|primary through the door?|- l have to qualify?
You have to know|what you're talking about.
We'll talk another time.|All right, Karen?
l'd like to know why Foley|put you in that second car|when he didn't need you anymore.
You'll have to ask him that.
- What the deal is, baby?|- Hi, Maurice.
- Oops. l don't know.|- Make a fist--
- There you go.|- Fuck it, man.
- Got your little fishies for you.|- Oh, good.
Not so fast. Starting out,|there's gonna be an across the board|cost of living increase.
- What?|- When l got put in here a year ago|on credit card fraud,
l didn't really get|no props for that.
But ever since l shanked|that loudmouth pussy in the yard,
it's like my Dun and Broadstreet around|this bitch done shot way the fuck up.
Actually, it's Dun and Bradstreet.|That's the, uh--
Well, l've heard it both ways.
Point is that the price|has gone up around this bitch too.
Get your little black book out.|We got some business to talk about.
For the little fishies--|What'd l say they was gonna be?
- Two thousand.|- Now they're gonna be three thousand.
- Come on. You--|- Now they're gonna be three thousand.
That saltwater shit|you put in your eyes?
- What do you call that?|- Bausch & Lomb.
Yeah, that bushy lawn shit.|That's 300.
- l need it.|- Yeah, you do. And that extra pillow.
l'm gonna get that for you,|but that's gonna be like five C's.
- Five?|- Hey.
Sign says shut the fuck up,|or can't you fellas read?
Who the fuck|you talkin' to, man?
You got a problem|over there, Foley?
Yeah, this is|the dumbest fucking shakedown|in the history of dumb shakedowns.
- Five hundred bucks for a pillow?|- That's right.
- lt does seem a little high,|doesn't it?|- Shut up, Dick.
- Must be a nice pillow.|- Full goose down.
- Look, you still--|- How much for your company at chow?
My company? Come on, man. You know|l'll watch this motherfucker's back.
- How much?|- That's a C-note.
lf you're smart, Ripley,|you'll tell this guy to fuck off.
Well, l-- l--|l don't know.
First of all, if he kills you,|then he's gonna get nothin'.
Well, uh, the man don't|just have to die, Foley.
He could accidentally hurt himself|falling down on something real hard.
Like a shiv or my dick.
l'll pay. l'll pay it.|Don't worry.
lf he falls on anything, Snoop,
then they're gonna transfer|his ass outta here faster|than you can throw a fight...
and you're still|gonna get nothin'.
You know, last time l checked, man,
this shit over here ain't|got nothin' to do with you.
Why don't you go outside?|Smoke a cigarette or some shit.
l don't smoke.
You heard the man. Why don't|you get your punk ass up outta here?
- Uh-oh.|- You fucked up now, man. That's Himey.
Protege of mine. Ranked number 32|in the federal prison system.
- Thirty-two?|- That's right.
- Out of, what, 20.|- Kick this cracker's ass.
- What's going on here?|- Uh, nothin'.
Just ''reading is fundamental'' shit.|We got all excited and everything.
Clear outta here. Now.
- No problem.|- All of you. Let's go.
Uh, Snoopy.|l think we settled the fish thing.
Oh, the fish. Yeah.
That's how you|do the shake, partner.
Paper says there's ten grand each|on you, Chino and Lulu.
They say anything about Karen?
Just that she got away. Here.
- Hmm?|- Jack!
- Hey!|- That's all right. lt's in the pool.
Did it say what happened to her|after she took off with Glenn?
l don't know.|You'll have to ask Glenn.
He's probably on his way to Detroit,|which is where we should be.
- Yeah.|- Do you realize what you're doing?
Worrying about a woman|who works for law enforcement?
You wanna sit down and have cocktails|with a woman who tried to shoot you.
- Do you hear what l'm saying?|- Do you think this old guy's|her boyfriend?
lt's the only picture|she has in here.
Am l going to Detroit by myself?
The longer we stay here,|the better chance there is...
that either Glenn|is gonna screw up the score,
or we gonna get busted or both.
This is Foley?
- Karen?|- Hmm?
- This is Foley?|- How lucky can one guy be
Doesn't even look like that.
- Oh, no?|- Uh-uh. He looks a lot like--
Wyatt Earp is here.
- Hey.|- Hey.
- How you feelin'? Feel better?|- Good. Yeah.
- ls your dad taking good care of you?|- He took the week off...
to take care of me and he's worked on|his boat every day since.
- Dad, this is Ray Nicolet.|- Hi.
- Pleasure to meet you.|l heard a lot about you.|- Likewise.
Ray's working with the F.B.l.|task force on the prison break.
l see that. Tell me, Ray, do you ever|wear one that says ''undercover''?
- No.|- How's it going?
Okay. Good.|We caught one of them.
- Was it Foley?|- Was it off a tip?
Somebody spotted two of them|out in this hobo camp near the airport.
Called in the number.|That was it.
- l knew it as soon|as l as there was a reward.|- Was it Foley?
No, Linares,|one of the Cubans.
We went in there with full SWAT,|two choppers, that whole deal.
Linares goes nuts, starts shooting,|so we took him out.
l don't know how Chirino|got away, but he did.
- And Foley hadn't been there.|- No, this place was strictly Cuban.
Foley had a ride. He must have|his own agenda. You know what l mean?
He seems to be the only guy|who kinda knows what he's doing.
- Excuse me.|- Yeah.
Yeah, she is.|Just a minute, please.
- Hello?|- Hi.
You know who this is?
- Yeah.|- There's something l'm wondering.
The headline reads, ''l slept with|a murderer, says shaken Miami woman.''
- Who is it that answered the phone?|- None of your business.
l'm just worried maybe|l'm not old enough for you.
- lt was my dad.|- Really?
- He's got a cop's face.|- How do you know?
- Oh, wait. You have my wallet.|- And your gun.
- Think l can have 'em back?|- How do we do that?
You can come by my dad's place|and drop 'em off.
l could leave it with the SWAT guy|that answers the door.
There's a guy here|on the task force right now.
Maybe l should put him on the phone|and let the two of you work it out.
- You wouldn't do that.|- Why not?
Because you're having|too much fun.
She fixes him pork chops and rice.
The next thing you know,|they're making love on the sofa.
She says he was very gentle.
This guy, Chirino, shows up at the|house, says he misses his little girl.
She feels sorry for him.|Next thing you know-- boom.
- On the couch.|- That's how you score now, huh?
There's something|l've been wondering.
Whatever happened|to your Uncle Cully?
You think he's gonna|tell you where l am?
- Unless you wanna tell me.|- He's dead.
Did 27 years before he got out,
and he died a couple of years afterwards|in a charity hospital...
by trying to make up|for all the good times he missed.
That's not gonna be me.
What, one last score, retire|to some island? ls that the idea?
- Jack.|- l'm partial to mountains myself,
but if you like islands,|we'll make it an island.
- What do you mean,|''we'll make it an island''?|- You and l can make it--
- Jack, you better come|and check this out.|- ls that Buddy?
- What? No. Okay. Bye-bye.|- Who're you talking to?
- So she's a married woman.|- Right.
But she goes to bed|with a prison escapee because...
he tells her that|he misses his little girl.
She tells the world about it.|But you protect her.
You don't reveal her name.
That makes it sound like|what she was doing was okay...
as long as her husband|doesn't find out.
Like the guy who cheats|on his wife, saying what|she doesn't know won't bother her.
- Dad.|- What?
Ray, l wanna show you|something... in the living room.
- Yeah.|- Good talking to you, Ray.
Yeah, you too.
Federal law enforcement agents|raided a squatters' camp...
north of Miami lnternational|Airport this morning...
in the hopes of capturing|a fugitive from Tuesday's daring escape|from Glades prison.
F.B.l. officials confirm that|one of the escapees, Arelio Linares,
- was killed--|- Chino's gonna wanna talk to me.
Chino's runnin' for his life.|He don't give a shit about you.
He's gonna know by now|l gave him up back at Glades.|He's gonna wanna find me.
Maybe see Adele,|see what she knows.
He knows where she lives?
We were talking once,|drinking rum,
and l may have|mentioned Adele.
How she worked for a magician.|Chino got all interested.
He said, ''How do you saw|the woman in half?''
Maybe he wanted to meet her,|maybe see her if she came to visit.
Oh, okay, okay. So you call her up|and tell her don't talk to any Cubans.
- The phone's probably tapped by now.|- You're right.
And if the phone is tapped,|you know they have her place staked out.
Adele Delisi speaking.
- Uh, uh, this is Adele?|- Yes, it is.
Oh-- Uh, sorry.|Wrong number.
l'm a tourist.
All right. Here we go.
Coming up right here...|on the left.
- What about the guy with the clippers?|- l wonder what the F.B.l...
is charging to trim hedges|these days?
- Quite a checker game|they got goin' on too.|- Pull on up.
Okay, you saw her.|That's all you get.
- Let's go to Detroit.|- Now you're talkin', brother.
l'll say one thing for Jack--|he's very considerate.
Lights on or off,|if you know what l mean.
- Really.|- Hmm.
l just want to find him|before he does something else|and makes it worse on himself.
No. Buddy'll take care of him.
Keep him out of trouble.|He's Jack's conscience, always has been.
They must have robbed|50 banks together.
- They were a really great team.|- Until they got busted.
Hmm. That wasn't Jack's fault.|No, that was on account of...
Buddy, for some reason, decided to call|his sister and confess to the job...
before they'd done it|instead of after.
Well, she called the F.B.l. They both|went down, and they ended up at Lompoc.
l think Buddy felt|kind of bad about that.
Adele, do you have any idea|where l could find Buddy?
Mira, Adele, you in there?
-Yes.|-Mira, l'd like to speak to you, please.
- Well, who is it?|- Emile, you know, the guy|you used to work for?
- Uh--|- He gave me your number|and where you live.
Mira, l'm looking for an assistant.|Can l speak to you, please?
- Oh. Uh, yeah.|- All right.
You did work for Emile, right?
Uh, yeah, l was Emile's box jumper|for four years, almost.
Cono! You were what, his box?
- Uh, his assistant.|- Oh, okay.
You say you perform|in the Miami area?
Oh, si. Here, there, you know.
l was a magician in Cuba. They used|to call me Manuelito the Magician.
Mira, can you please open?
- l'm not dressed.|- l'm a good friend of Jack Foley.
- You know Jack?|- Who are you?
Or maybe you heard Jack call me Chino.|Bueno, l'm the same guy.
Tell him he has to wait in the hall.|You have to get dressed. Say it loud.
Wait in the hall.|You have to get dressed.
Mira, mira, you tell me|where l could find Jack|and l don't bother you no more.
Now, come on, please! Hello?
- l don't know where he is.|- l'm the guy that helped|Jack escape from prison.
- Mira, please open this fucking door--|- l'm gonna call the police.
Cono, why you gonna do that|to a friend, man? A partner to Jack?
That's it! That's it!
Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!|Cono, mira, please!
- Adele! Adele!|- Give me your hand.
- You not Adele!|- l'm a federal marshal,|and you're under arrest.
- Get my bag, Adele.|- Oh.
Mira, please, please. l think|there's a misunderstanding here.
Can you--|you got nice bag.
Mira, let's say we just forget about it,|okay? We forget about this, l go home--
- Shut up.|- Owwww! Who the hell|taught you how to do that?
- Give me your other hand.|- Okay, okay. Ay, cono.
Ohhhh!|l gotta go make pee-pee.
Wow! You are mean!
Look, l'm gonna call my lawyer.|This is-- What do they call that?|Human rights violation.
- Ay, cono.|- Daniel Burdon, please. Karen Sisco.
Mira, Adele, Adele.|Can l ask you a question, please?
You know that trick you do?
Karen? Where are you?|l've been trying to reach you.
When you in the box|and they saw you in half?
- l'm at Adele Delisi's.|- lt's magic.
We already talked to her.|That's a dead end.
l was just wondering,|if l brought in Chirino,|would you let me be on the task force?
- Yeah, sure, Karen.|- Then they put the saw through,|and they separate it.
- And that's it. Ta da.|- But how do you twinkle your toes?|l don't get that.
You bring Chirino in,|and you can be on the task force.
- That's all l wanted to know.|- Good.
Now, would you forget|about the ex-wife,
and get over to the Adams Hotel?
- You got it.|- Then they open it up--
- No! No!|- Come on.
- And then that's it.|- Fake legs.
- Mmm.|- Fake legs? How you gonna--
- Ay! Cono.|- Thanks, Adele.
How do they twinkle their toes,|then, if it's fake, mira?
First thing we do,|we get to Detroit, we find Glenn,
and we find a window|to throw him out of.
l was thinkin', if l was Glenn,|and l was up there...
to take down the Ripper,|where would l go?
'Cept that if you were Glenn,|you wouldn't be thinkin'.
Remember Snoopy Miller,|his old pal from the joint?
Snoop? l figured|he'd be brain-dead by now.
Nah, Snoop doesn't box anymore.
Glenn told me that he's managing|some fighters out at the Kronk.
- Did you get the key?|- They're in room 613.
All right. l want|two men outside, front and back.
Conroy, Jamison, go on up to six,|cover both ends of the hall.
You're primary.|You're secondary.
And you're point man.
- You gonna use a ram?|- Yeah. Why?
The manager's door is metal.
You know what l mean,|they might all be.
A ram on a metal door makes|a lot of noise for what good it does.
l got a shock lock round|for my shotgun that oughta do the trick.
Fuck it.|Let's take the stairs. Karen--
Take the radio. Stay down here|in the lobby and watch the elevator.
- Daniel, l want to go upstairs.|- Well, you can wait|in the car if you want to.
Now, you see Foley and Bragg|coming behind us. What do you do?
- Call and tell you?|- And you let them come up.
You don't try to make|the bust yourself. You understand?
ls this your floor, ma'am?
ls this your floor, ma'am?
Oh. Oh, yes.
Yes, it is. l'm sorry. Thank you.
Be advised we are|approaching the door.
Be advised we are|going to blow the door.
Shit, l thought l was going up.
She just looked right at me.
- Who?|- Karen.
- Karen Sisco?|- Yeah.
She's in the lobby.
- She's in the lobby?|- Yeah.
They know where l live,|no doubt they know what l drive.|We gotta dump this car.
She just sat there,|looking right at me.
Karen, they're not up here.|Keep your eyes open.
Karen? Karen, are you there?
He waved at you?
Couldn't swear to it,|but l'm pretty sure he did.
- Did you wave back?|- l didn't have time.
l imagine you would have, though.
Buddy's sister, Regina Mary Bragg,
got two calls from Buddy|in Detroit this morning.
She calls Burdon.|She's also the one who called Burdon...
- and gave him Buddy's address.|- So?
So what l want to know is why he still|calls her even after she turned him in.
He doesn't seem to hold a grudge.|What l want to know is why,
they got such a big score up north, did|Foley hang around Miami for so long?
- Any thoughts on that?|- None l'd like to share.
- l'll call you when l get in.|- Okay.
Time is truly wasting
You know, l don't just deal product|and manage fighters no more.
A lot's changed since the last time|you seen me, man. lt's like l've, uh,
vertically integrated myself,|you know, diversified and shit,
and now l'm into|the occasional grand larceny,
- home invasion, shit like that.|- Huh.
White Boy Bob right there's|my all-around man, you know.
He's my personal bodyguard when l feel|like l need one, driver, shit like that.
Yo, man, watch the road, White Boy!|What you lookin' back here for?
- Yeah.|- Yeah.
- l like this car, Glenn.|- Yeah.
You stole a good one, boy.
You can roll around|in Ripley's neighborhood|up there in Bloomfield Hills,
not get sweated|by the private security.
Ain't gonna have no police on our ass,|nothing like that. lt's nice, man.
Oh, hey, so you still haven't said|how you want to do this thing.
Oh, l'm gonna tell you that|as soon as we get one other|brother l'm gonna need, uh,
Kenneth--|that's Moselle's brother--
along with White Boy right there.
- What?|- All right, here we go, White Boy.
Uh, who's the fireman?
- What's up, brother-in-law?|- What's happenin', hustler?
Hey, man. This cigarette|gonna bother you, Mo?
Yeah, put that thing out, all right?|Ken, this is Glenn.
- Glenn, that's Kenny,|the dude l was tellin' you about.|- Hi.
You're the one gonna help us|rip off that rich white dude?
- Yeah, that's him.|- Help you?
Go ahead, White Boy.
Um, whoa, wait a minute, um, look--
Maurice, l am|letting you in on this gig,
- You just asked|how we gonna do it, right?|- Yeah.
Well, l'm telling you how, man.|We the experts.
Person l'm worried about|is you, Glenn.
- Me?|- Yeah.
Can you step up and actually do this|shit instead of just talking the talk?
Walk into this house|l got picked out.
Do this cross-dressing nigger|named Eddie Solomon l used to sell to.
- Been dealing on his own.|- What? When, man?
Shit, right now, son.|What you think all this shit is for?
l don't need to prove|shit to you, man, okay?
The Ripley job is my job.|You're either in or you're not.
You wanna go pop some crack dealer|pissed you off, man,
- that is your problem,|not mine, fuck!|- Glenn,
l know you supposed to be|cool and everything, okay,
but you ain't got|to give me no tone of voice.
You don't like what l'm sayin',|you just bounce the fuck out|this whip anywhere up in here.
Okay, l think we're forgetting|that this is my whip.
l brought it up.
Shit. Hey, come on, man. lf l say|this is my car, you know this is my car.
You just get yourself|another one.
lf l say we in on this Ripley shit, we|in on it, with or without your punk ass.
And if l say you gonna walk up in|this house and do this motherfucker...
so l can see if you got|any balls or not,
guess what else you gonna do?
Tighten up your panties, boy.
- Hacksaw. Okay, l'll take that.|- Oh, yeah.
- Hatchet, man.|- Hatchet?
What are you gonna do with a hatchet?
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.|Let's get some fire to that ass.
Look here.|You want the .45 or the Glock?
lt was worse than you thought|it was gonna be, huh?
You with the bad boys now, baby.
What do you think?
l think Glenn opened his big mouth and|now we got ourselves another partner.
Hey, Studs, how ya doin'?
Jesus Christ,|what are you guys doin' here?
Weren't you expecting us?
Where's your sunglasses?|Somebody finally step on 'em for ya?
- l don't know.|- Whose blood you got on your shirt?
Listen, man,|these guys are crazy.
- Snoop!|- Shit.
We have a problem here?
Jack Foley,|famous bank robber.
Snoopy Miller,|famous fight thrower.
Seems l read somewhere that you|broke out of a prison down in Florida.
- ls that right?|- They got a low class|of people there, Snoop.
Hey, you call him that again l'm gonna|put your head through the wall.
What? You mean ''Snoop''?
Nobody calls me Snoop or Snoopy|anymore is what White Boy Bob|is trying to tell you.
He's just a little crude with it.|You know what l mean?
Nah, l left all that|behind me, partner.
But you call this bozo|''White Boy.''
White Boy Bob|used to be a fighter.
Oh, so tell me, what do you|do now, White Boy Bob,
outside of shoot|your big mouth off?
- Like being back in the yard, isn't it?|- Yeah, just like it.
Nobody backing down|or nothing.
You back down, you just a pussy.
- Why y'all in Detroit anyway,|up here in the cold?|- Glenn didn't tell you?
- Glenn? What?|- l thought you guys were busted.
Why's that? 'Cause you left us|standing on the side of the road?
Look, Snoop, l don't know|what Glenn promised you,
or what you think you're going|to get out of this-- here's the deal:
Buddy and l, we're going to take half|of anything we get off of Ripley.
Anything else, you guys are|allowed to cut up any way you want.
Oh. Why don't we talk|about this outside, man?
- Nice in here. lt's warm.|- Warm? lt's like|90 degrees in here, man.
Sometimes it's 100 up in this mug.
That's the way Emmanuel|like to keep it.
Keep his fighters mean and lean like|Tommy Hearns. Ain't that right, Kenny?
l got someplace to be anyway,|so tell you what:
Why don't y'all come by|the fights Friday night?
We'll sit down,|chop it up, you know, look it over.
- State Theater.|- All right. We'll see you then.
So it must take a lot of balls|to walk into a bank and|stick it up with a gun, huh?
l don't know. l never used|a gun before in my life.
You'd be surprised what all you can get|if you ask for it the right way.
Well, you're the reason, my friend, that|l don't keep all my money in the bank.
So where do you keep|your money, Dick?
Talking about all those|uncut diamonds you told about.
- l know what you're talking about.|- You're the one with balls.
Say something like that|to somebody like Glenn?
Glenn? Come on, nobody's|going to believe Glenn.
- Do you believe Glenn?|- Uh, no, l don't.
Besides, even if it was true,|he'd still have to know|where l keep 'em, wouldn't he?
Doesn't have to know anything.|You told him you keep 'em in your house.
lt's a very big house.|So, how much longer you in here for?
Uh, 22 months,|three days, two hours.
- Why?|- 'Cause l could use a guy like you.
Somebody that knows how to ask|for things in the right way.
l'm talking about|when you're out of here.
After all, you can't rob banks|forever, can you?
- l'm not exactly a nine to five type.|- Who is?
l thought everybody liked Eddie.
- How you doin', Ray?|- l'm freezing.
But l'm getting warmer.
So listen, other than we had so much fun|the last time we worked together,
you want to tell me why you're coming|to me instead of the F.B.l.?
l go to the F.B.l.,|the first thing they're|gonna do is send me to get some coffee.
You know what?|You're right.
Ray, about a year ago,|D.E.A. had a guy, Glenn Michaels,|on possession with intent.
- Listen, is that your car?|Find out whose it is.|- They couldn't make it stick.
ln his statement, he said he was coming|to Detroit to see a friend...
about job opportunities,|if you can believe that.
- What was the name of the friend?|- Maurice Miller,
also known as Snoopy,|used to be a prizefighter.
l know Snoopy.|He's a fucking wack job.
He thinks he's Sugar Ray Leonard,|hangs out over on the west side...
with a couple of other|first-rate nut cases.
- Well, l'm gonna need|a last known address.|- 2710 coming in.
- You're gonna need what?|- A last known address.
That your car?
No way. l don't want you|talking to Miller alone.
Come on, Ray. l'm a federal officer.|l can handle myself. l'm armed.
l'll call you tomorrow|with the address.
Thank you, Raymond.
You see the paper?
- lt's a terrific shot of her.|- Outside of that.
Doesn't say what she's doing here,|but l don't think it has|anything to do with us.
She came up here on her vacation|because she likes shitty weather.
Nah, l think she's after Glenn.
The girl still there?
They don't stay the whole night, Jack,|unless you pay for it.
- Did you tell your sister?|- Yeah, l just hung up.|She prayed for me.
- Mm-hmm. And how long were you|on the phone with her?|- Two hours.
- And how long were you with the girl?|- 45 minutes.
You didn't tell your sister|about Ripley, did you?
Look, Jack, just forget|about my sister, okay?
Now, if Karen Sisco is|tailing Glenn, we're fucked.
Tomorrow night at the fights,|we all get picked up.
Why don't we just drive by where|we're meeting tonight, check it out.
And we'll go by Ripley's too,|while we're at it.
- Yeah, all right.|- All right.
- Athenaeum Hotel, how may l help you?|- Karen Sisco, please.
- Hello, Best Western.|- Karen Sisco, please.
- Moselle Miller?|- What do you want?
- l'm looking for Maurice.|- You find him, tell him|the dog got run over.
l'm out of grocery money.
- Moselle, who you talkin' to?|- Lady lookin' for Maurice.
- What does she want?|- Hasn't said.
- That's not Maurice?|- That's Kenneth, my brother.|He's talkin' on the phone.
- Ask her what she want with him!|- You ask her!
- Maurice business|is none of my business.|- Yeah, you damn right.
State Theater, huh?|Who's fightin'?
l'm looking for somebody|l think Maurice knows.
You're not with probation,|one of those?
- No.|- You a lawyer?
No, l'm not. l'm looking|for somebody named Glenn Michaels.
Glenn? l don't know any Glenn.
He said he stayed here|last November.
- Here in this house?|- He said he stayed with Maurice.
Well, he ain't|even here that much.
l'd like to know where he goes,|but at the same time,
l don't wanna know,|you understand?
- You say your dog was killed?|- Got run over by a car.
- What'd you call him?|- Was a she. Named Tuffy.
Where do you think|l might find Maurice, Moselle?
l don't know.|The gym, the fights.
l know he don't miss the fights.|They're havin' some tomorrow|down at the State Theater.
- He used to take me.|- The State Theater.
Why you askin'|all these questions about Maurice?
She lookin' for a man name of Glenn.
Did l ask you? Go on and do something|with yourself, Moselle.
Why don't you take your ass|to Dot and Etta's and get us|some shrimp or somethin'?
- You're a fighter.|- How you know that?
- l can tell.|- Yeah, l was.
'Til l got my retina|detached two times.
- What'd you fight, about middleweight?|- Nah, light.
Super middleweight,|once my body developed.
- What you go about, what, a bantam?|- Flyweight.
Nigger, what?|You know your divisions, huh?
Do you like the fights?|You like the rough stuff?
Yeah, l bet you do.
You like to get down|and tussle a little bit?
Like me and Tuffy,|before she got run over.
We used to get down on the floor|and tussle all the time.
l'd say to her, ''You a good bitch,|Tuffy. Here's a treat for ya.''
And l give Tuffy what all good bitches|love best, and you know what that is?
Know what that is? A bone.
l'll give you|a good bone too, girl.
You're not my type.
No, that shit|don't mean nothin' to me.
- l let the monster out,|you gonna do what it wants.|- l gotta go, Kenneth.
- Maybe we'll see each other again.|- No, no, we gonna tussle first.
Damn it!|What the fuck was that?
You wanted to tussle.|We tussled.
That's a big ass house.
Place almost looks|like a prison.
No doubt he's got some|serious security system.
Time comes, we go up, knock on the door,|see if he wants to talk about old times.
- You know, the easy way.|- Cool.
Think he'll let us in, we got the Snoop|and that musclebound asshole with us?
Nobody's gonna be with us.
l say we go to the fights tomorrow|night, see what Snoopy's big plan is,
then we go in,|ahead of him, alone.
Oh, l can dig it.
Let Glenn deal with the Snoop,|while we off livin' the good life.
Good life. Buddy, you know anybody|who's done one last big score...
and then gone on|to live the good life?
Look, Jack, there's a chance|we'll walk out of here with nothin'.
l say,|let fate decide.
Let fate decide? What are you,|the fuckin' Dalai Lama now?
Nah, man,|it's my sister.
My sister believes|in fate but not hell.
That's why she stopped praying|for all the lost souls,
since you don't hear that much|about purgatory anymore.
But every day, she asks her boss|to pray that Buddy don't fuck up.
l mean, what do you think?
- Well--|- You think there's a hell?
Yeah, it's called|the Glades Correctional lnstitute.
l'm sure as shit not going back there|or any place like it.
They put a gun on you,|you'll go, brother.
They put a gun on you,|you still have a choice.
So, Mr. Foley,
Mr. Ripley and l have|had a long discussion|about your role in the company,
and it was his feeling you'd be|happiest working down here in Miami.
- How's that sound to you?|- Sounds great.
Good. You're about|a 42 long, right?
l uh, l'm about a 42--
like, 42 regular.
- Okay, let's see how she fits.|- What is that?
Mr. Foley. Mr. Foley!
Sir, sir. Excuse me, sir.
Sir! Sir, excuse me!
- You can't go in there!|- Are you fucking kidding me?|A security guard?
- What are you, stoned?|- Hey, hey! Take it easy!
lt's all right, Peggy.|lt's under control.
You know something?
l wasn't sure that you'd show up here,|but l was very sure if you did,
you'd throw this job|in my face.
Let me tell you|something.
Every single thing you've done|with your life up until this point...
in the real world|means nothing.
Less than nothing.
You're a bank robber.
That's not|a very marketable skill.
We don't see a lot|of old bank robbers walking around...
with a pension plan,|now do we?
l think you know this.|That's why you're here.
Today, l've offered you...
a lousy job with a lousy wage.
You want something better?|Why don't you show me you can change?
Then l'll offer you|something better, a lot better.
But until then, my friend,|you'll have to earn it.
How, Dick?|The way you earn it?
Married some rich broad|owns the company,
selling it off a piece at a time|then divorcing her?
What's this Knute Rockne ''pull yourself|up by the bootstraps'' bullshit?
Back in prison, a guy like you|in a place like that?
You were ice cream for freaks.|A goddamned dumpling.
Maurice and a dozen other guys would|have bled you till you had nothing.
Until you were nothing.|l saved your ass!
So you'll pardon me if l don't want|to sit on a fucking stool all day,
and say, ''Sign in here, please,''|or ''Hey, pal, you can't park here.''
All right, Dick?|l can't fuckin' do it, Dick!
- l'm disappointed in you.|- You wanna--
Oh, here we go.|What job did he promise you boys?
- There's two ways we can do this.|- Yeah, what are they?
Hey, Buddy, l gotta get a better pair|of shoes and some things for tomorrow.
Drop me off by the Ren Center|and we'll hook up later?
l better go call my sister.
Can l get you anything?
Yeah, l'll have a bourbon, please.|Water back.
Hey, Tad, why don't|you do us again, please?
Oh, and, Celeste,|put the lady's drink on our bill.
- They want to buy your drink for you.|- Yeah, l get that.
- Tell them l'd rather pay for my own.|- Okay.
l'll find out.
My associates and l,|we made a little bet...
on what you do|for a living.
And l won.|Hi. l'm Phillip.
lf it's okay with you,|Phillip, l'd rather just|have a quiet drink and leave.
Don't you want to know what l guessed?|How l know what you do for a living?
Really, Phillip, l don't want to be|rude. l just want to be left alone.
lt's a little cold over there.
Excuse me.|l think l know why you're depressed.
lf l can offer|my observation.
See, l got a hunch|you're the new sales rep,
and the client's not exactly knocked out|by the fact that a young lady--
even one as stunning as yourself--|is handling the account.
Am l close?
We're all ad guys. Flew in this morning|from the apple-- New York.
Came in to pitch|Hiram Walker Distillery.
Little test market campaign|for the new margarita mix.
lt's really pretty interesting.|We take this, um,
Mex-- um,|Hispanic bandito...
with his bullet belts and everything,|and the big Chihuahua hat,
and he pulls out|his six-guns,
- and these guys back here--|- Andy.
Really.|Who gives a shit?
- Do you want to tell me what happened?|- Beat it, Andy.
What'd you do?
- Can l buy you a drink?|- Yeah, l'd love one.
- lt takes forever to get a drink.|There's only one waitress.|- l can go to the bar.
- Oh, don't go.|- Are those guys bothering you?
No, they're fine.|l mean, you just got here.
Here, help yourself.
- You like bourbon?|- l love it.
We got that out of the way. Tell me,|Celeste, what do you do for a living?
l'm a sales rep,|and l came here to call on a customer,
but they gave me a hard time|'cause l'm a girl.
ls that how|you think of yourself?
- As a sales rep?|- As a girl.
- Yeah, l don't have a problem with it.|- l like your hair.
- l like your outfit.|- Actually, this is|my second favorite outfit.
l had a first favorite, but it got|ruined and l had to get rid of it.
- You did?|- lt smelled.
- Really? Having it|cleaned didn't help?|- No.
So tell me, Gary,|what do you do for a living?
- How far do you want|to go with this?|- Don't say anything yet.
l don't think it works|if we're somebody else.
l mean, Gary and Celeste,|what do they know about anything?
- Well, this is your game,|l've never played before.|- lt's not a game.
lt's not something you play.
Well, does this make|any sense to you?
lt doesn't have to.|lt's something that happens.
lt's like seeing|someone for the first time--|like you could be passing on the street,
and you look at each other|and for a few seconds...
there's this kind of a recognition--|like you both know something.
The next moment,|the person's gone,
and it's too late|to do anything about it.
And you always remember it,|because it was there, and you let it go,
and you think to yourself,|''What if l had stopped?|lf l had said something?''
And it may only happen|a few times in your life.
- Or once.|- Or once.
How'd you find me?
Called your room|from downstairs.
And if l had answered,|what were you gonna say?
l would say who l was,|and do you remember me,|and want to meet for a drink?
lf l remembered you.|l came here looking for you.
All right, so then l would have|said yes, but for all you know,
l could have had a SWAT team waiting|for you-- why would you trust me?
lt'd be worth the risk.
- You like taking risks.|- So do you.
You know, sooner or later--
You really wear that suit.
Well, that's not|what you were about to say.
- Remember how talkative|you were in the trunk?|- Mm-hmm.
- Adele said you do that|when you're nervous.|- Oh, she did, did she?
-You kept touching me, feeling my thigh.|-But in a nice way.
You know, that Sig|you took from me was special.
My dad gave it to me|for my birthday.
What were you going|to do with me?
l hadn't really worked|that part out yet.
All l knew is that l liked you,|and that l didn't wanna...
leave you there on the side of the road|and never see you again.
Then you waved to me|in that elevator.
Yeah, l wasn't sure if you caught that.
l couldn't believe it.|By that time l had been...
thinking about you a lot...
and just wondering|what it would be like if we met,
if we could take a time-out.
l was thinking the same thing.
l kept thinking,|''What if we took a time-out?''
lf we... just spent|some time together.
- You know, l saw you on the street.|- Where?
- You went to see her?|- To warn her about Chino.
- So she did help you.|- l don't think we should get into that.
You're right.|And l won't ask about Buddy,
or what you guys are doing|in Detroit, or if you've run|into Glenn Michaels yet--
Okay, now, don't talk like that,|because you scare me.
- Let's get out of here.|- Yeah.
There's something|l want you to know.
l wasn't just looking for a fuck,|if that's what you're thinking.
- Or, l was--|- Why are you mad?
l was looking for some kinky thrill--|you know, score with the bank robber.
-The way some women go for rough trade--|-All right.
Now l can say that l fucked|a U.S. marshal. Do you think l will?
l don't know.
l know a guy...
walks into a bank with a bottle,|tells everybody it's nitroglycerine.
He scores some cash|off of the teller.
On his way out, he drops the bottle.|lt cracks on the floor.
He slips in it. He smacks up|his head. They get him.
The nitroglycerine|was canola oil.
l know more fucked-up bank robbers|than ones that know what they're doing.
l doubt one in ten could tell you|where the dye pack is.
Most bank robbers|are fucking morons.
For you to go to bed with one|for kinky thrills,
like you were saying,|makes you as dumb as they are.
Now, you are not dumb.
Why would you think that? Why would|you think that l would think that?
You're not dumb.
Well, l don't know about that.
l mean, you can't do three falls|and think you have much of a brain.
You're getting|serious on me now.
Tryin' not to.
l just want to know|what's gonna happen.
Put it together now. Put it together!|Upstairs and downstairs.
- He don't want|to see you downstairs!|- Man, you drink like a bitch!
He don't want to see you-- Get your|tussle on. Joe, get your tussle on!
Yeah, don't let him|out that corner.
Don't let him out, now.
Hey, you know what?|l gotta go take a pee.
What are you tellin' us for?|You want somebody to hold your pecker?
Do that work, Joe!
Put it together now, Joe!
That's it, baby!
Take him deep!|Oh, oh, my God, l love it.
Put him to sleep, Joe!|Put him to sleep, Joe!
Sit down, Kenny.|That's it! That's it!
- You tryin' to steal this car, Glenn?|- Don't, don't, don't!
Oh, my God,|l can't believe this!
Another one of those days, huh?|Nothing seems to be going right.
- l don't have the keys to the car.|- l see that.
No, l mean l am not|fucking stealing the car!
- You're not?|- No, l already stole it a week ago,
whenever it was,|in West Palm.
So l can't be|stealing it again, can l?
- Put your hands on the wheel, please.|- Okay, so now you're gonna...
bust me for pickin' up|a car, what the--
For the car, for aiding|and abetting a prison escape,
and for conspiring to do|whatever you came here for.
Listen to me. These guys, they're gonna|be out here any minute looking for me,
and they're|fucking animals, man.
What's going on, Glenn?
Nothing. l just wanna|get the fuck outta here.
l thought this whole thing|was your idea.
Okay, ripping off Ripley|was my idea,
but these guys, they are|in a whole other level of their own.
- Ripley, the Wall Street guy?|- Yeah, the plan was...
to pick him up|at his office tomorrow...
and drive him out|to his house in Bloomfield Hills.
And now l don't give a shit|what the guys do, you know?
- And Foley was part of this.|- Yeah, he's supposed to be,|but he hasn't showed up yet,
- which is good for him.|- Why?
Because Maurice is|gonna kill him.
Like, try to collect|the reward money or something.
But you say he hasn't shown up yet.|You think he backed out?
l don't know.|He doesn't exactly confide in me.
l wonder why.
Okay, if you're gonna do this,|let's do it and get out of here.
l am freezing|my ass off!
lf you wanna get out of here, run.|lt'll warm you up.
Oh, ha, ha.
l swear to God, Glenn, if l find out|that you are lying to me, l--
l know, you will find me.|l believe it.
Hey, know what|l was thinkin'?
lf you didn't drive me|to the federal court last summer,
you wouldn't even|know who l am.
lf l didn't know you, Glenn,|by tomorrow you'd be in jail or dead.
Think of it that way.|Now run.
l'm tellin' you,|man, the money is here.
- Snoop.|- Hey, it's the bank robbers.
Y'all missin' the fights, man.|Pull up a chair.
- Who's sittin' here?|- Oh, that's your homey, Glenn, man.
But he bounced to the bathroom|a couple minutes ago...
- and we ain't seen him since.|- Must've fell in, man.
Yeah, sent these two looking for him.|They came back shaking their heads.
Well, if he left his coat|and he's been gone a while, then--
- Car's here, man. l checked.|- Yeah.
- All right. We're leavin'.|- Leavin'?
- What the fuck, Foley?|- Stupid, you know where Glenn is.
- Look, what you worried|about Glenn for, what he know?|- l thought everything.
No, Glenn know everything|that's supposed to happen tomorrow.
Now, he may run and tell somebody that,|but that don't mean shit.
Glenn don't know|l changed the plan.
lt's happenin' tonight.|Soon as we leave here.
Go back by the house, pick up some shit|we gonna need, and we just gonna do it.
- Give me a minute to talk to Buddy.|- You got two minutes, that's all.
- Make up your mind, Foley.|- l wasn't asking permission.
- You know they're gonna set us up.|- l get that feeling, yeah.
You think you can get|to the diamonds before they do?
l'll make you a deal.|You get outta here right now.
l'll do the job with Snoop. l'll meet|you anywhere you want, give you half.
-Half for doin' what?|-Gettin' me out of Glades, for starters.
Who's gonna watch|your back?
All right, White Boy.|House call.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
- Ready to do this, baby?|- Ready for whatever.
Cool. My shit always work.
Somebody in the house called.
You don't know what you're talking|about, because no one was here.
- Let's go skiing.|- Yeah, yeah, yeah.
You still got time|to take me up on my offer.
And leave you alone|with these assholes?
- Raymond Cruz.|- Ray, it's Karen Sisco.|l'm at Ripley's house.
l just saw Maurice Miller and four other|suspects force their way into the house.
They're armed.|l'm gonna need backup.
- Who are you?|- l work here.
l'm the maid. Fuck off!
- That's exactly what l'm gonna do:|fuck you, then off you.|- Hey, not yet.
- Where Ripley at?|- He isn't here.
- Out for the evening or some shit?|- He's in Florida-- Palm Beach.
- When's he due back?|- What difference does it make?|You gonna wait for him?
Mr. Ripley's down for the season.|Christmas to Easter.
Stop that shit, man.
You're here all by yourself?
That's right. Just me.
- Where Ripley's safe at,|keeps his valuables in?|- l don't have any idea.
l fuckin' bet you don't.
We gonna take a look upstairs|in the man's bedroom, all right?
You and Mr. Buddy look|at all the rooms down here.
Check the paintings,|behind the walls.
Check the fuckin' walls|in the closets. The man's|got a safe. lt's here somewhere.
What about his place|down in Florida?
lf you called, we could have checked|the walls down there before we left.
That is, if you'd bothered to find out|where he was. You follow me?
Man, take this bitch upstairs.
Listen, you try and trip any alarms,|anything like that,
you gonna be a dead Hazel,|you understand me?
- Hey, hey, where we at? Where is it?|- Over there.
- Ever wear one of these?|- l don't ski.
Keep an eye on the maid.|l'll have a look around.
Go sit down. Please.
Damn, Mo. How's this motherfucker|livin', man? Shit!
Check behind the pictures|on the walls, man.
Hey, Mo. Found some rubbers.
White Boy, why the fuck|you lookin' under the mattress?
You know dude ain't gonna hide|no diamonds under there.
Damn! Dumb 'bama motherfucker.
- Where Foley at, man?|- He's checkin' the other rooms|like you said, boss.
Man, keep a eye on Foley.
Ken, stop fuckin' with the radio.|Put on a CD.
- l don't recognize|none of these bands, Mo.|- Just pick somebody.
What, ''How To Sing|Like Michael Bolton''?
What the fuck you wanna|listen to, huh?
- l like Schubert.|- Schubert? Well, l don't.
911 got you on hold, Richard?
- Foley!|- How you doin'?
What in God's name|is happening here?
- Who's upstairs?|- Snoopy Miller, couple of his friends.
- Maurice, from Lompoc?|- Yup.
Have they got Midge up there?
What kind of a man lets a woman|answer the door this time of night?
We thought it was her husband.|He comes here and checks up on her.
l'm supposed to be|down in Florida.
ln a few minutes, you're gonna|wish you were. Let's go, come on.
Why don't you sit down?|We'll have a look at your fish.
Oh, that's workin'.|That's workin'.
Motherfucker!|l found the safe, yo!
Don't go nowhere.
- Oh, shit! We gonna have a party!|- Look at that bitch.
They found the safe.
- Fuck.|- Buddy, you remember|Richard, don't you?
- Yeah, hi. Nice house.|- Thank you.
Yeah, man.|We just all hit this handle,
blow this sucker|wide open, man.
Uh-huh. Yeah, yeah, yeah.|Let's get ready.
Oh, Dude-- you're gonna|kill me with that.
- Where you been, man?|- Found some steaks.
- Steaks?|- Yeah, some big ones, bro.
Man, come on.|Blast this damn safe open, man.
- He's down there lookin' for food.|- Fool.
All right. Hold it. No.|Get to the side, man. All right.
On three.|One, two, three.
- Jesus Christ, they're shooting Midge!|- Sit down, Dick.
They're trying to open up|the safe, not your maid.
Man, we didn't even crack|this sum' bitch.
- Okay, hit the hinges.|- Uh-huh.
Put your finger in your ear, man.|This is gonna be loud.
All right, on three. One, two--
The combination is 3-10-44.
- Richard's birthday.|- Thank you.
Are they dead?
We gotta find Foley, man.
Can't believe you're still angry with me|after all this time.
l'm not angry with you, Richard.|ln fact, l'm completely relaxed.
The thing is, l can't figure if|it's the fish that are cooling me out,
or all those uncut diamonds|in the bottom of the tank, there.
Dumb-fuck Glenn was right.|You got about 5 million worth in there?
Five point two.
They just look|like plain ol' rocks!
They sure do.|You wanna grab 'em, Buddy?
lf l were you,|l'd get up and run.
- l'm not leaving Midge.|- Don't be an asshole.|They're gonna kill you.
Well, if that's my fate then so be it,|but l'm not leaving her.|l'm in love with her.
- Come on, Jack.|- Good luck, Richard.
- Come on, Jack.|- Shit. They're gonna rape|that maid, aren't they?
By the look of those guys,|they'll rip her too.
- Then they're gonna kill 'em.|- At least.
- Tricky motherfucker.|- Are those my suits?
Naw. These are my suits.|Look at you, man.
Where you been hidin', Dick?
We made it, didn't we?
- All you gotta do is|get in the van, baby.|- l'm goin' back in.
- l'm goin' with you.|- No, you dump the van,|meet me at the airport.
- l'll get one of Ripley's cars.|- Jack--
The shit that's about to go|down here, you'll be on the phone|with your sister for a month.
- All l'm sayin' is we're square.|- Here.
Get outta here.
- Get that shit off.|- Get your hands off me!
Fuck you, shut up!|Nobody's gonna help you.
- Midge!|- Fuck Midge, man.|Where the jewels at, Dick?
- Foley-- Foley's got them.|Go after Foley!|- Where the fuck is Foley, man?
- Midge!|- Sit your punk ass down, man.
- Ooh, goddamn!|- Son of a bitch!
Man, take the front stairs.|l'm gonna take the back.
- You all right?|- Where's Richard?
He's downstairs.|You wait here.
Hold it, asshole.|Drop the gun.
Put the damn gun down, now.
Put it down!
Stay right there.|Don't move. Maurice!
l got Foley!
Ain't got another clip|l can use, do you?
No, l don't.
- You ain't never shot|a gun before, have you?|- Not until recently, no.
- You a little nervous?|- Little bit, yeah.
You know, a situation like this|has a high potentiality...
for the common motherfucker|to bitch out.
So l figure, why take a chance?
- Aw, sh--!|- Motherfucker!
Stop! Put your hands in the air!
- l know you're up there.|- Shit!
- Where's Kenneth?|- He's up here.
- Come on, Jack, don't.|- Pretend it's not me.
- You think l'd shoot you?|- lf you don't, somebody else will.
What're you now?|A desperado?
- Put the gun down.|- l'm not goin' back.
Jack, please, don't make me do this.|Put the gun down.
Damn it, Jack, put the gun down!
No more time-outs.
You win, Jack.
- l can't shoot you.|- You did. You shot me.
You know what l mean.
l'm sorry.|l wish things were different.
Yeah, they don't know yet if they|want to bring him up on the homicides.
l doubt if they will.|They'll just put a detainer on him.
When they're through with him here,|he'll go back to Florida.
Are you gonna go get him?
lt's possible. Why?
Well, you know,|l was just thinkin'.
You can have a nice time|with him on the ride down,
picking up where your interlude|or whatever you call it left off,
and then you can throw him|in the shithouse.
He knew what he was doing.
Nobody forced him to rob banks.
My little girl-- the tough babe.
l'll call you later.
l got you a present.
Something for the road.
l'm gonna have to take it away,|though, soon as the ride is over.
Jack Foley?|Meet Hijirah Henry.
What kind of a name is Hijirah?
- lt's lslamic.|- What's it stand for?
The ''Hijirah'' was Mohammed's|flight from Mecca in 622.
- His flight?|- Brothers in Leavenworth|gave me that name.
You were in Leavenworth, huh?
- For a time.|- Meaning?
- Meaning, time came, l left.|- You busted out.
l prefer to think of it as an exodus|from an undesirable place.
- How long before they|caught up with you?|- That time?
- There were others?|- Yeah. That was the ninth.
Well, ten if you count that prison|hospital in Ohio l walked away from.
- You done a lot of walkin', Henry.|- Hijirah.
Hijirah.|Now we're off to Glades.
Yeah, it looks that way.
l was supposed to leave|last night with the lady marshal,
but for some reason|she wanted to wait.
- She did, huh?|- Guess it's cheaper taking|two of us down in one van.
Could be. Maybe she thought|we had a lot to talk about.
Really? Like what?
l don't know.|Long ride to Florida.
lt's your thing|Do what you wanna do
l can't tell ya|who to sock it to
lt's your thing|Do what you wanna do
l can't tell ya|who to sock it to
lf you want me to love you|maybe l will
Believe me, woman|it ain't no big deal
Ah, you need love now|just the same as l do
Makes me no difference now|who you give your thing to
Ah, it's your thing|Do what you wanna do
l can't tell ya|who to sock it to
lt's your thing|Do what you wanna do now
l can't tell ya|who to sock it to
Lord, have mercy
Ahhhh, it's your thing|Do what you wanna do
Ooh, l can't tell ya|who to sock it to
Hit me, man, it's your thing|Do what you wanna do
l can't tell ya|who to sock it to
l'm not tryin'|to run your life
l know you wanna|do what's right
Oh, give your love, girl|to whomever you choose
How can you lose|with the stuff you use
lt's your thing|Do what you wanna do
l can't tell ya|who to sock it to
lt's your thing, yeah|Do what you wanna do
Don't let me tell ya|who to sock it to
Let me hear ya say|lt's my thing
- lt's your thing|- l do what l wanna do
l can't tell ya
O Brother Where Art Thou
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