When there's been a reduction in force...
at the Central Intelligence Agency...
and you're the one who's been riffed...
it's not always easy to find a newjob.
When a prospective employer asks for your skills...
you can't very well say that they've been blackmail, bribery...
subversion, the odd kidnapping.
Still, there are legitimate businesses...
who are looking for people...
exactly like you.
Question correct.
Time's up.
I haven't quite finished yet.
Almost no one does.
Those who do are geniuses. We're not in the market for genius.
Why not? Smart's smart, isn't it?
Genius bores easily.
Tends to brood, then to plot.
Palace revolts?
Sexual conquests, mostly.
- So, what's next? More tests? - No, that's the last.
After its scored, the computer will work up a total evaluation.
If it's satisfactory, you see Mr. Grimes.
What happens if the computer doesn't like me?
We wave good-bye.
I'm gonna call this one The Mitterand Misapprehension.
Mmm.
- So? - Just what we expected.
He's an aggressive, healthy heterosexual male...
with a superior IQ. of 141.
He's divorced, no children. Has a BA. from Michigan in Political Science.
Good Spanish, fair French, quite a little Arabic.
And according to his test results, just a touch of paranoia.
Paranoia's good. It keeps one careful.
How much was the bribe to the Iraqi colonel?
$50,000 in gold. The colonel swore he never got it.
Crowe swore he did.
The Agency paymaster believed the colonel.
So the Agency dismissed Mr. Crowe.
After he broke the paymaster's jaw, yes.
- Hello, Mr. Grimes. - Well. Mr. Nelson Crowe.
- Nice to meet you. - How do you do?
- Very well, thank you. - Late of Managua, Amman...
- Panama and other garden spots. - Yes.
Sit down, will you?
Welcome to the Tool Shed.
- Tool Shed. - Ah, it's a bit before your time, I suspect.
Those infamous and long-ago Senate hearings on covert operations run wild.
They called in old Nate Packer to testify.
- You've heard of him. - Oh, who hasn't?
He's a man of impeccable manners.
Answered even the dumbest of questions with care and courtesy.
Then somebody asked him the question he most wanted to hear.
80 old Nate puts on this stud poker expression of his...
and he tells the senators...
that the way to solve their loose cannon or rogue elephant problems in covert ops...
is to round up some fit, trained specimens...
much like Margaret here and yourself
and then lock them away in a tool shed until they're needed.
- He really said "tool shed? - Yes, he really did.
And that's when I had a flash of pure inspiration.
I told myself, the government is never gonna buy this brilliant concept...
but private industry might.
80 three years later, I left the Agency and began building my very own tool shed.
Must be paying off, unless it's all front.
You might be interested to learn that 21 of our clients...
are among the nation's top 500 companies...
and that's just our domestic side.
And we're equally active in foreign clients, Mr. Crowe.
Once the world sensibly turned from cold war to commerce...
we picked up half a dozen new clients...
a couple of them from behind the erstwhile Iron Curtain.
So we are thriving, I assure you.
Doing whatever needs doing, for a price.
Precisely. Do you care to join us?
- How much? - How much?
75, to start.
- Say 80. - Oh. He wants 80.
- He does. - All right.
- When? - When do you start?
Yes. - Would five minutes be too much for you to handle?
- Not a problem. - Margaret?
Let's say ten.
- Okay? - Very well.
- Pleasure. - Same here. Thank you, Mr. Grimes.
Nice neighborhood.
Oh, yeah, very respectable.
You'd be surprised.
Nothing much surprises me anymore, Miss Wells.
And somehow, that doesn't surprise me.
So what's our assignment?
Information's on a need-to-know basis.
All right.
- You know how to work one of these? - You bet.
-I wanna go higher, - Where do you wanna go?
I wanna go higher;
- I wanna go higher - Higher, baby
- What the fuck is this? - As of COB today, Mr. Cartwain...
you are no longer president of Curl Industries.
Maybe nobody told you, shit-for—brains...
but my sister is a major stockholder in Curl Industries...
and if that little prick thinks he can fire me... Your sister sees this tape...
of you and, um-
|-| don't think Mom's gonna like this, Uncle Johnny.
- Uncle Johnny. - Mm-mm-mmm.
Someday.
Yeah, right.
Where's my fucking money?
In the mailbox. Where else?
All in fifties, like I said?
Mmm. $10,000 in fifties.
You know what? That was kinda fun, wasn't it?
So, you're our F.N.G.
Yes, I am.
Your Fucking New Guy.
And you are?
Tod Stapp. With two p's.
Nice to meet you, Tod. Nelson Crowe.
Margaret brief you?
- On just about everything, yes. - Thank you.
- Everything but herself right? - Right.
Well, to answer a few of your unasked questions...
she's 36...
out of Holyoke, by way of the Agency.
- Married? - Single.
- And you call her... - Margaret.
Or Ms. Wells.
- Never Maggie. - Ah, Maggie.
What do you really call her?
Snow Queen.
Snow Queen. Right.
- Tell me about her, Margaret. - Who?
Cartwain's niece.
- Is she really as young as they say? - Younger. 16, at the most.
And pretty, hmm?
I hear they say she's very pretty.
Judge for yourself.
Yes.
Yes. Yes.
You know, perhaps you should have a copy of the tape itself.
- Perhaps I should. - Mmm.
You know, uh...
if it weren't for my health...
I would've sacked Cartwain myself.
For his, uh, obstinacy and treachery.
And now this, this incest thing.
Could've blown us out of the water on the Cross Creek case. - Could have.
Can't. Not anymore.
Let's talk about Cross Creek vs. Curl Industries.
According to our inquiries, the court is leaning 4-3 against you.
But I don't understand why. Cross Creek has no case.
The facts and the truth support us. All we want is simple justice.
Simple justice runs a bit high these days, Walter.
If the court rules in Cross Creek's favor, what'll it cost you? Hmm?
- Absolute minimum. - $25 million, at least.
Ooh.
Now, for only four percent of that, for a mere one million dollars...
you can buy yourself your very own state supreme courtjustice...
and a favorable verdict.
Are you sure?
Are you positive?
Take a look at us, Walter.
Do either Margaret or I look as if we want to go to jail?
Before you attempt to suborn a state supreme courtjustice or even a justice of the peace...
you first make sure he's got his hand out.
Way out. Way out to here.
Two no-trump, doubled.
Game and rubber.
How much, Les?
It's 970 to you, Beachie.
Phil gets off with 210, and the Doc...
breaks even.
I got lucky on that last finesse, judge.
Oh. It's not luck. That was skill.
Well, bedtime.
- Same time next week, gentlemen? - Mmm.
Care for a nightcap, Beachie?
- Goodnight, Judge. Goodnight, Les. - Sure. Good night.
I don't really want a nightcap.
I'm holding $19,000 worth of these already.
This'll almost make it an even 20.
I won't carry anyone for that much, not even a guy who's the older brother I never had.
Just 'ti| Friday, Les. Monday at the latest.
Look...
if you really need twenty or thirty thousand, all you have to do is ask.
But cards are my living, and if people know I'm holding your markers...
they might get the idea I've gone soft.
Easy.
And I can't afford that.
I understand, Les. I do.
- I understand. - No, you don't-
This afternoon I got a call from Bobby Birdsong, our mutual bookie.
Bobby's carrying you for $25,000...
and is so worried he offered to sell it to me for $15,000.
I said, No, thanks.
Friday, Les. Everything'll be fine by Friday. Don't worry.
Beachie...
after Friday...
somebody else will do the worrying.
Understand?
You're mine,
- 9331. - I'm in.
One across, four letters. Pan's beginning to leak.
-Right.
J‘ I wanna knowJ‘ J‘ what you got to say J‘
J‘ I can tell you taste like the sky, J‘
J‘ Cause you look like rain J‘
- Pan's beginning to leak. - Look like rain, look like rain,
J‘ You look like rain, J‘
J‘ - Drippin'. J‘ J‘- Look like rain, J‘
What?
It's who, not what. Margaret Wells, that's who.
Jesus.
You do drink scotch, don't you?
- Who do you plan to buy with? - A judge.
What do you got here, about $25,000?
- Thirty. - Mm-hmm.
- Want water? - Straight, please.
what kind ofjudge?
Small claims court, traffic court, what?
State supreme court.
Well, the $30,000 buys us an introduction.
His full price is one million.
Hmm.
- Can we sit down? - Mmm.
There aren't any chairs.
Bed's fine.
He's a degenerate gambler, this judge.
Let me guess.
We're gonna buy up his markers.
- You are quick, aren't you? - Mm-hmm.
Markers are the stick.
Then comes the carrot.
That would be...
- the one million. - Mmm.
- I like details. - You want them now?
Later.
Well?
I need backup.
How about Tod Stapp?
Yeah, he'll do.
The risk doesn't seem to bother you much, if any.
It's what I do. It's what I'm good at.
Besides, I learned the lesson a long time ago that maximum effort means minimum risk.
How about the lesson small risk means small profit?
Big risk, big profit.
Never heard of it.
The Agency was always very big on risk, but not very big on profit.
How about half the Tool Shed?
Who'd own the other half?
Someone willing to share the risk.
And Grimes?
So Grimes goes.
Say it.
Grimes goes.
Well?
I'll think about it.
They're not wired; They're not carrying.
I can swear to that.
They swear they're not cops, but who knows?
They got names?
Not so as you'd notice.
- Well, I'll call them Mr. X and Mr. Y. - Yes, sir.
You got business with me, Mr. X, Y?
Private business.
Ahh. Good for my back.
Well?
We buy bad paper, Mr. Birdsong.
Do you, now? That's interesting.
Any particular kind?
Old debts, outstanding notes.
For instance, say someone owed you-
Oh, say $25,000.
That you'd almost given up on ever collecting.
We might offer you $15,000 for it.
You wantjudge Beach's paper, don't you?
I don't believe we know anyone named Beach...
but if he has some paper out and we buy it, we probably would get to know him.
- Probably. - Cash?
Gentlemen, have a cup of tea.
Hello, Mr. Goodwin. Nice to see you.
That him?
That's him.
Les, mon vieux!
Comment vas-tu? You're looking well! You mind if we join you?
Before you get upset, take a look inside.
I take it you two are Mr. X and Mr. Y.
Oh. He talked to Birdsong.
- How much? - Twelve and a half.
For $20,000 worth of bad checks.
It occurs to me, gentlemen...
that you're not really in the bad paper buying business.
It occurs to me that you are into something much more profitable...
in which I might, uh...
let's say, participate.
Do you like pain?
If you do,
I can paralyze your elbow...
and the pain is so excruciating...
that you won't be able to play bridge for a week.
Maybe two.
Now, Les...
promise me that you won't butt into our business...
and maybe you and I can be... friends.
Maybe even...
real good friends.
Okay?
Get your hand off me.
Tell us about the judge’s extracurricular love life, if any.
He's my oldest friend.
- How old? - My oldest.
We grew up next door to each other; He was like an elder brother to me.
So any information about his extracurricular love life, as you call it...
will cost you another thousand.
- Pay him. - Look in your napkin, Les.
How did you kn-
Her name's Julie Ames.
Do you know the Queen Charlotte?
Apartment 1402.
His oldest friend, huh?
I have that privilege.
Call me sometime.
We can discuss friends.
Old... and new.
I may do that.
Are you a fisherman, Mr. Crowe?
It's a solitary pursuit, essentially...
but one that provides time for meditation and reflection.
I was just pondering on how long the world will last.
The world as we know it, of course.
Mmm.| don't' give it much more than 20 or 30 years.
By then clean air, clean water, clean rain and productive soil...
will all be memories.
If, indeed, there are any memories.
Which brings us, in a rather circuitous fashion...
to Cross Creek versus our esteemed client Curl Industries.
Cross Creek, of course, is the birthplace of the Cross Creek babies.
You must've seen them on television.
The ones with leukemia, no fingers, one eye, et cetera.
Exactly.
The hamlet of Cross Creek...
claims that toxic waste dumped into their water supply by our client...
caused the deformities.
Do you believe that?
The lower courts did and stuck your client with a $25 million tag.
Well, true, but now it's up to the state supreme court...
to decide the right or wrong of that judgment.
And here we are, just the three of us...
about to suborn a supreme courtjustice...
into voting against crippled kids.
Does that give you pause, Mr. Crowe?
- Sure. - But?
No buts. The two of you wanted to know if it gives me pause; I said yes.
It's a felony. If I get caught, | go to jail.
That gives me pause, all right?
If it didn't, you wouldn't have me working for you. - What about the deformed tots?
I suppose I think of them as often as they think of me.
You'll find one million dollars in that bag.
Spend it wisely, Mr. Crowe.
Okay. Anything else?
That time in Jordan, in Amman.
Did the Iraqi colonel really get his gold?
He got it.
I do hope so.
He is a nasty piece of work.
Isn't he, though?
You really expect me to sign these?
Sure. I mean, you just turned over all this money to the federal government...
for which we're extremely grateful.
But now we're gonna turn it back over to you, and if we're gonna do that...
we're gonna need a receipt.
Because, bearing in mind that Iraqi colonel...
you might be on the next flight to Rio.
Ah-ah! Both copies, Slick.
It was worth a try.
So what about Maggie and her plan for a... palace coup?
Was I right, or was I right?
You were half right, as usual.
She won't give me the details until after I fix the judge.
- What kind of pitch did she make? - Half for me, half for her.
Well, now.
What does well, now mean?
It means you go the distance with her...
provided you're still interested...
in scrambling back into our grace and favor and staying out ofjail.
This is the last fucking time. Okay, Smitty? The very last time.
You guys have had me on every shit detail you can think of for two years...
because of some fucking Iraqi colonel.
He got his gold! You know goddamn well he did!
Uh-huh. Well, he says he didn't.
After this, I want out.
I want all the way out.
And all we want, Nellie, is to nail Vic Grimes on bribery...
and acquire his Tool Shed.
So our aims here are identical.
I mean, we get our very own...
private, self-supporting special operations boutique...
at no cost to the taxpayer, I might add...
and you get...
out.
Where are we, AI?
Two blocks from the Queen Charlotte.
- You want out here? - Zig-zag a couple more blocks, AI.
You got it.
You, uh, still think somebody's always on your tail, Nellie?
Not always. Just sometimes.
Now and then. You know, Smitty?
- Thanks, AI. - Have fun.
- Excuse me. - Yes.
Are these yours?
Who the hell are you? - Someone you're gonna have to talk to, Judge.
I thought you'd rather do it here than at home or in your chambers.
If you're trying to collect on those, you're wasting your time.
Can we talk now?
Welcome back our champion, Bunny!
Bunny?
Don't I get introduced?
Julie, I think it might be best if you went for a walk.
W—Well, I don't think so. This is my house.
She stays.
What's goin' on, Beachie?
A bribe is being offered.
If I were drowning and somebody threw me a life preserver...
I wouldn't exactly call that a bribe.
You're drowning in debt, Your Honor.
Another week or so, it'll be glub, glub, good-bye.
Get out.
There's a million dollars on that table, tax free.
Leave.
Please.
Birdsong.
I bought your paper from Bobby Birdsong.
I also know a guy at the news who, uh-
Okay, there's no need to go into that, but it would make a helluva story.
Supreme Courtjudge In Hock To Bookie?
What case?
Cross Creek vs. Curl Industries.
You go against the crippled kids.
Well, the rumor is, the rest of the court is split, 3-3.
If you make it 4-3 in favor of Curl...
you're home free and semi-rich.
Yes or no?
All right.
Yes.
I need a receipt.
She signs too, as a witness.
|-|-|'m not signin' anything.
Sign it, Julie.
What earthly difference can it make?
You must have, uh, very suspicious employers, Mr., uh-
Whatever it is you call yourself.
Mr. X.
And this...
is just some insurance against your voting the wrong way...
and then saying, Money? What money?
Get out of my house.
Sure.
- Could you make me one? - Sure.
Thank you.
You know what this means?
It means that we have a lock on the judge.
In the trade it's called a forever lock.
Which means we can sell his vote over and over again...
- and it won't cost us a dime. - Great.
You don't seem too impressed.
We're not scrupled, surely, Mr. Crowe.
Scruples? No.
Just a growing concern over the rosy future you painted for us.
The one where all I do is stand in front of the big window with my back to the room...
while the smooth guys in suits stream in and out, whispering in my ear.
All I gotta do is keep my eyes on the distant horizon and nod yes or no.
You remember that?
And a rough translation of that might be, what do we do about Vic Grimes?
What, when and how.
What's simple.
We kill him.
How? Cleverly enough to avoid suspicion.
And thatjust leaves when.
Have you ever killed anyone?
Have you?
Not cleverly.
That's just another word for fancy.
Cyanide in the toothpaste and crap like that.
See, to do it right,
You work up close.
Close enough to hear 'em beg...
see 'em bleed...
and smell it when they crap in their pants.
Could you do it? Huh? Could you kill him?
Me? Just me?
Okay. Us.
Bien sur. Sure. We can do it.
Why not?
Does Grimes trust you?
As much as he trusts anyone.
Ever... slept with him?
VVhy?
Could you?
- Probably. - That's how we'll do it.
You get him in bed; I'll kill him.
Who invited you?
I got curious.
Guess the judge decided he could use that million dollars after all, huh?
Really? Wow.
Well, |-| figured he would.
But what I can't figure out is-
Well, is you, Brother Crowe.
VVhy?
At 4:41 this afternoon, you got out of a large green van...
license number AAB 8990.
Motor vehicles says it's a Hertz rental.
Now, Hertz says it went out on an Am Ex card...
belonging to one Norman Y. Harris.
If memory serves me...
Norman Y. Harris...
is the Agency work name of William B. Smithfield.
The one he used down in El Salvador...
when I was there.
Old Smitty.
The Agency's all-time champion survivor.
Must be getting careless.
Oh, I don't know.
Maybe he was in a hurry.
Here you are...
working for Vic Grimes...
but still messing around with the Agency.
What kind of hammer are they holding over you?
10 years? 15?
Something like that.
Well, my first reaction...
was to race back to the Tool Shed before my shirttail hit my fanny...
score some points with Grimes...
tell him all about you and old Bill.
- But you didn't. - Not yet.
- Pourquoi pas? - | smell money.
Not upper-middle—class folks' money; I mean rich folks' money.
I want some of it.
Oh. I tell a lie. I want a lot of it.
It's a takeover.
Keep talkin'.
The Agency wants their own off-the-books, self-financed black operations boutique.
A going concern with no chance of trace-back.
Someone who'll handle the shit work:
The snatches, the, uh, blackmail.
Who knows, maybe even the wet work.
In short, the Agency wants the Tool Shed.
Who'll head it up?
Margaret and |wi|| run it.
You-
Hmm.
I guess that makes you number three.
What about Grimes?
What do you care?
You're right.
What do I care?
And not only did judge Beach sign the receipt for one million...
but Julie Ames also signed it as a witness.
How very neat and tidy.
You have the receipt, of course.
Of course.
And you're absolutely certain it's the original and not a photocopy?
What's bothering you, Vic?
| asked what was bothering you.
Mr. Crowe.
It's all gone so smoothly.
Here we have a judge safely bribed; We even have a receipt to prove it.
It's Friday, and on Monday a supreme court decision is going to be handed down...
in favor of our principal client.
Absolute perfection.
Something I long ago learned to distrust.
Okay.
What else?
Ruth giving you a hard time at home?
As a matter of fact...
my wife is spending the week with her sister in Minneapolis.
- I'll be alone for the weekend at the cabin. - Oh.
- Like me to come along? - Yes.
I was hoping you'd be free.
And maybe this time I can even teach you a little something about fishing.
I don't want to fish.
I want to fuck.
Oh, well.
There's nothing I can teach you in that department.
Thank you", she simpered.
Well, well. Toddie dearest.
- AI. - This should be interesting.
- What the fuck's he doin' here? - Cut himself in.
Sorry, Stapp. No faggots allowed.
- I mean, you are still a faggot, aren't you? - Of course, Bill.
Well, I guess you'll have to go see Grimes, give him a full report-
- Tell him all about- - just a minute. Just a goddamn minute.
What did he do, spill his guts?
- Just the usual pillow talk. - Answer the goddamn question.
Look, Smitty.
You got dumb-fuck careless.
You rented that van under your old work name.
After that, I did my adds and take-aways and came up with an interesting total.
Either you cut me in...
or | go see what Grimes has to offer.
See what I mean, AI? These faggots'll fuck you over every time.
Jesus, cut him in, Smitty. You don't have any choice.
Okay. You work with Crowe.
Swell. Now that that's settled, what's next?
Well, next we're gonna create a little crisis in the Tool Shed by, uh...
causing Vic Grimes to lose his bread-and-butter client, Curl Industries.
How? - Me, you turned judge Beach around before.
Just turn him back around.
Make sure he votes against Curl and, uh...
for Cross Creek and the crippled kids.
- You like it? - Oh, very much.
Then do it. And take her with you.
Bill. AI.
- Well? - We do nothing. The judge stays fixed.
H ow?
- The one million from Curl Industries. - The bribe money?
Yeah, Smitty was afraid I'd skip to Rio with it, so he made me give it to him.
Before he gave it back, he made me sign two receipts.
- Scotch and soda. - Two.
Even Smitty wasn't dumb enough to let you keep a copy.
No, but, uh...
better than that, I did get it on tape.
Sounds to me like evidence that federal money bribed a judge.
Exactly. It also means that even if Smitty's got his fist wrapped around me...
I got mine wrapped around him.
It's a wash.
Might work.
Depending on what my cut is.
Well, your cut stays the same:
Money, power...
the love of someone very beautiful.
Oh, Beachie.
Wait 'til you see what else I bought.
Julie, we have to talk first.
About what?
About this.
The Bahamas?
Oh, my God! Oh, Beachie, how I've wanted to go there!
When do we leave?
- You leave this afternoon, by yourself. - What?
Now wait a minute. Please, j-j-just listen to me, all right?
I want you to take the money...
and open an account in your name...
with this man at this bank.
- In my name? - Mm-hmm.
That means you're leavin' her.
Yes.
- When? - Very soon.
So, I just wait for you there?
- In Nassau? - In Nassau.
- You trust me that much, huh? - Oh, Julie.
It's not about trust. It's about love.
Beachie, I love you so much.
- Oh. - And I'm gonna make you so fuckin' happy.
You already have.
How say you now, gentlemen?
You know why I hate Grimes?
Probably because you owe him too much.
Your only choices are hate and gratitude. Who wants to be grateful?
Exactly.
That's good, 'cause when this starts-
Yeah, it's Margaret.
Yeah, just give me 30 minutes. All right, fine.
That was Grimes.
It seems judge Beach shot and killed himself half an hour ago.
Grimes and I have to go see Curl, calm him down, reassure him.
After that, we'll go up to the cabin for the weekend.
To fish and fuck.
- We do this tomorrow, right? - Yeah, all right.
Tomorrow.
Beachie?
What kind of detective?
Where the wood's stained, here on the bookcase. - Homicide.
Who is this?
They're going to arrest me and put me in prison.
There's no way |'|| be able to survive that. There's no way I can get out-
Shut up, Walter.
- He's dead, you know. - I know.
- Judge Beach killed himself. - know that.
Now it will all come out. They'll find out about it.
- You want me to try? - Go on.
Walter, Walter, Walter. I'm going to talk to you very simply...
and slowly, and Iwant you to concentrate.
Okay? Now sit down.
The court decision is still going to be handed down on Monday. Do you understand?
Okay. Now that means it's already been voted.
Already written. Do you follow that?
It means you've won, Walter. It means the court made its decision...
before Beach died.
And that decision will stand.
- We've won? - Of course we won.
But I don't understand.
Why would he kill himself after we gave him all that money?
- Maybe he had principles, Walter. - Principles?
Maybe he had cancer, Walter, cancer of the esophagus.
Oh, yes, of course. People often do that when they have cancer.
- H-how do you know it was the esophagus? - We don't know for sure.
If you don't know that, how do you know which way he voted then?
Walter, look at us.
You look like something out of LL. Bean.
We're going fishing. Do you think if anything was wrong, we'd be going fishing?
Back to bed, Walter.
A nice rhythm now. All right now, level.
- Come on. See? - Mm-hmm. My turn?
- Yeah, your turn. - Okay.
Let me see you work that rod, woman.
You know, Julie Ames is gonna be a problem for us.
I'll get Stapp to take care of her.
- One more time. - What are the numbers?
Eleven to one. Twelve is right above your head.
- Do they have any meaning? - Yeah, 11 is slightly behind 12.
One o'clock. You're going from 11:00 to 1:00.
Twelve is directly above your head. Eleven is slightly behind.
Shorter stroke when you come up.
Tighter. Don't go so far back. Keep your wrist straight.
- Oh, that's not so bad. Watch. - All right, stop.
- You had enough? - Enough fishing, yes.
Wait. Shh.
Just wait there.
Behind you, Vic.
Like I said, you gotta work up close.
You know what he said?
No. What?
What?
Oh. He said he loved me.
So what? So do |.
- Okay. - Okay. Okay?
Come on, come on.
Okay now. Okay.
Dr. Cole, 2023.
Why does the nurse have to push you?
It's just a regulation. She'll be here in a minute.
Ms. Wells' room.
Oh, hi, Jane. What's up?
All right.
I'll tell her.
We're fucked.
Jane says the state supreme court...
just upheld the $25 million judgment against Curl.
The vote was four to three.
Get the door.
Oh. Oh!
Get him up.
You like pain?
Then I suggest you get up...
or you'll feel pain like you've never felt before.
- Here. - No, don't touch me.
Grown men don't touch each other.
What happened?
Oh, I had an accident.
What do you want from me, Margaret? Grimes is dead.
That lying judge swindled me out of my money and then killed himself out of spite.
That's over. Gone. Finished.
What I want is to Keep you out of jail, Walter. - Jail? What for?
- Bribery. - The money that bribed the judge-
your money-is still out there.
Somebody has it...
somebody who knows the whole story...
and can either blow the whistle on you or-
Blackmail me.
Well, you've got to stop him, Margaret. You've got to fix it so...
It's not a him." It's a her."
Julie Ames, Judge Beach's girlfriend.
Well, then, stop her, goddamn it.
You mean kill her, Mr. Curl?
- Who is this person? - The man who can stop Julie Ames.
Well, then do it!
We have to settle on a price first.
- Help you, sir? - Apartment 931.
There's one thing I know
We never felt this way-
Until I met you
I'll give you five good reasons
You're so good
When it comes down to understandin'
- Hello, Les. Come on in. - Thank you.
- Thank you for coming so early. - Not at all.
I thought we'd talk while I finish shaving. Is that all right with you?
- How intimate. - You 're the one I pray for,
In the night-
- And how cozy. - Thank you.
- The anti-couch-potato room, I take it. - Something like that.
Do you have itjust about the way you want it?
Just about.
You said on the phone you had some information about, uh, judge Beach's girlfriend.
What was her name? Julie Ames?
- She's traveling in Europe. - Mm-hmm.
Working out her grief, I expect.
I received a card from her only yesterday.
Showed her in Brussels, of all places.
In front of the statue of that perpetually pissing little boy.
Care to see it?
Sure. Why not?
May I keep it?
- Whatever for? - I think she's cute.
For your trouble.
No trouble at all.
Ms. Well's office.
One moment. She's expecting you.
Sorry I'm late.
It's not a problem. We only have one item to discuss.
Make it two.
All right, two. I spoke to Homicide today.
And? - They still have no leads except for my description of the killer.
Mid-forties. Stocky. Thinning hair.
That's too bad.
- My turn? - Mmm.
Miss Julie Ames, Brussels.
- Where'd you get this? - I bought it from one of my sources.
- What's she doing in Brussels? - Working out her grief, I'm told.
Too scared to come home. Probably too scared to be of any problem to us.
Brussels today, Berlin tomorrow.
Rome on Friday, if the weather's nice. Who knows?
Find her. Find her; Then kill her.
You really get off on saying that, don't you?
If you won't do it, I'll find somebody who will.
- Why don't we talk about that tonight? - I'm busy tonight.
Busy? What does busy mean?
Busy" means I'm entertaining clients. Busy" means I'm not somebody's bimbo-in-waiting.
You're right, Margaret. You're no bimbo.
You're top shelf, the girl of my dreams.
Because if you're not...
then nothing we've done makes any fucking sense, does it?
Are you finished?
I have a final prediction.
You and I are forever. I decide when forever ends.
Get out.
It's Les. Shall I come up?
Did you get what I wanted?
Yes, but I'm afraid it's a bit expensive.
Well, golly, Les, what a surprise.
- How much? - $2,000.
Bullshit. $1,500.
Sorry, Julie.
- Is it loaded? - Of course.
But I better show you how to use it.
This is the safety. This is on.
This is off. When the safety's on, it won't fire.
This is the slide. To fire the first time...
you pull it back like this.
That puts a round up the spout.
- Is there one in there now? - Yes.
Then I'm all set.
| just make sure the safety's off...
point it...
and start pullin' the trigger, right?
Right.
How many times can I pull it?
Seven.
But it's a semiautomatic, so it ejects its shell casings.
Once you fire it, | suggest you gather up the casings.
Neatness counts. Then, too, the police set great store...
by shell casings.
Mm-hmm.
- $1,500, right? - The weapon is $1,500.
But it won't do you much good without the other item.
All right, Les. Who is he and where do | find him?
I did say cash, didn't I?
Forgetful me.
- Nelson Crowe. - He's Mr. X?
Yes.
- I couldn't stop them. - That's all right.
Go on. Get out.
My God, if you don't look flush, Maggie.
What do you want, Smitty?
You remember AI here?
- How are you, Maggie? - AI.
I repeat my question. What do you want?
Oh, we want it all, Maggie.
Everything.
See, we got you cold on bribery and conspiracy.
You remember a little old Tennessee gal named Julie Ames?
Well, when we find her...
and you can bet your ass we will...
she's gonna be our key witness.
And if that's not good enough...
then there's the sad death of Vic Grimes.
Poor old Vic. We might even have to bring the Feebies in on that one...
seeing as how Vic had his civil rights somewhat violated.
Make your point.
Gee, I thought I made my point.
We take over, and you run it...
the way we want it run and where we want it run.
It'll be just like old times, Maggie. You'll be workin' for us.
Course, if you don't wanna do that, you can do 15 to 20.
Maybe even life.
Anything else?
Anything else, AI?
- Personnel. - Personnel.
There will be some personnel changes.
I'll come on as chairman of the board.
And you can be the president.
Ah, but Nellie Crowe.
Nellie's gonna have to be our first casualty.
I don't know. Maybe we can put a little plaque up to him or something.
But I'm gonna leave all that up to you, Maggie.
You understand?
Mmm. - We're in sort of a hurry on the Crowe thing.
So now AI and I are gonna take a little tour, and then, uh, I'll come back...
and maybe you can, uh, introduce us to everybody.
Love it.
- Get my car up. - Right away.
You really expect me to sign this?
Sure. I mean, you just turned all this money over to the federal government...
for which we're extremely grateful.
But now we're gonna turn it back over to you.
If we're gonna do that, we're gonna need a receipt.
Excuse me?
Could you hold that for me, please?
Thank you.
- Floor? - Seven, please.
What a lovely suit. Paris.
- Milan. - Oh.
After that, I did my adds and takeways...
and came up with an interesting total.
Now either you cut me in, or | go see what Grimes...
You're about to have a visitor. Ms. Julie Ames.
Of Brussels.
- Remember me? - Sure. Um, Julie Ames.
Uh, come on in.
Are you alone? I'm not disturbin' anything?
All alone.
Hey-
Now that's pretty neat.
If you wanna watch the soaps, you gotta row an hour or do 30 miles on the bike, huh?
You're not really Mr. X after all, are you?
Turns out you're Nelson Crowe.
And you used to be a secret agent man.
You've been busy.
I got curious...
after Beachie and all.
Well, you're looking well, Julie. Very prosperous.
I'm still a little sad about Beachie.
Mmm.
I'm sorry.
I know it must have come as quite a shock to you.
Can I offer you a drink?
Do | get to sit on the bike?
We'll have it in the kitchen.
That's where my daddy did all his serious drinkin'.
In the kitchen.
So, that's what you do for a livin', huh?
Fuck up other people's lives?
That's not exactly how I like to think of my job description, Julie.
It's not, huh?
What about Beachie?
He was no saint...
but you might as well have put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger.
Beachie was all wrong for that kind of scene.
Somebody should've stepped in.
Done somethin'.
And I've about decided...
that somebody should've been me.
And you want someone to pay. Is that it, Miss Ames?
Yeah, that's it.
I presume you brought a weapon of some kind.
Who the fuck is she?
She's my boss.
- So why is she pointin' a gun at your head? - I don't know.
Why don't you ask her?
- Well, boss lady? - You did bring a gun, didn't you?
Yeah. For protection.
Okay, then, take it out...
and aim it at Mr. Crowe, please.
- Why? - So you can shoot him with safety.
Do it!
So he works for you, huh?
Not anymore.
But she told you what to do, right?
You bet, Julie.
Every single step.
Okay, you work with Crowe.
Swell. Now that that's settled, what's next?
Well, next we're gonna create a little crisis in the Tool Shed...
by, uh, causing Vic Grimes to lose his bread-and-butter client...
Curl Industries.
How? - You turned judge Beach around before.
Just turn him back around.
Make sure he votes against Curl and, uh, for Cross Creek...
and the crippled kids.
- You like it? - Oh, very much.
Then do it.
The US. Attorney's office is almost across the street.
If you send this airborne express, it'll have to go all the way to Ohio and back.
Just send it.