- Synced and corrected by chamallow - - www.addic7ed.com -
You guys should get jobs at a Korean day spa.
This is what they do when waterboarding's ineffective at Gitmo.
How old is this recording equipment, Ken?
$600 million in budget cuts last year,
$800 million this year.
We make do.
Is it even digital?
I've seen higher tech gear on baby monitors from Target.
Don't thank me. Thank Homeland Security.
Ow!
Oh, you should've shaved with a new razor, Paulie.
I did.
Doesn't the FBI use special tape for this?
I feel like I'm wearing a fucking compression vest.
If he's not 100% comfortable, I don't want him doing this.
Well, is this what we usually use, guys?
Maybe something that expands and contracts
so I can at least breathe?
Well, Jimmy, you're the veteran. What did you use?
Jimmy: Electrical tape.
When they yanked it off, hunks of skin came with it.
I had open sores full of oily residue
on my chest and back for three weeks.
This is fine. Just go.
Pretty sure the spy store sells digital recorders
you can fit in a button or a pen, though.
We get the budget to go digital, we'll shop there.
♪ I got one hand on my heart, now ♪
♪ the other's on a gun ♪
♪ the city burns to ashes ♪
♪ in the house of the rising sun ♪
[sea gulls crying]
[Siren wailing in distance]
So, you think something's hinky?
Hinky?
Who the fuck are you suddenly? Sam Spade?
Hinky's hinky.
Chicago cops staging murders
of ex-cops as suicides is hinky.
Nothing hinky about Richie DeStefano
croaking prematurely except your exaggerated concern for it.
He was like an uncle to me.
Don't speak in metaphors. It confuses me.
He was my second godfather.
A second godfather? Fuck is that?
A standby. You know, like, in reserve.
That's some seriously fucked-up shit, Paulie.
One's Irish, one's Italian.
Is it your job to reconcile the two?
My family didn't want to upset anybody. I'm the only boy.
All right, fine.
Go to Richie DeStefano's wake and funeral,
mourn godfather 2 appropriately, and leave it like that.
This guy.
I'll talk to your guys in Homicide if you won't.
No, you're not gonna do that, Paulie.
There's no way Richie killed himself.
No way.
You're gonna drop this speculative theory immediately.
- Do you know why? - Why?
Two reasons. One, you're not in Homicide.
And two... Collie.
Uh, rum and Pepsi, please.
Just a Pepsi for me.
Two...
you don't let go of this,
you're gonna end up deader than Richie.
Just a Pepsi.
I got a collar in the squad. I cracked the window.
Just gonna let him sit there?
- What are you, a social worker? - No.
We're gonna bide our time until our shift ends,
then we'll take the gentleman in and book him.
We're gonna make O.T. while we write it up.
Want to start now? Start writing up in your head.
Hey, that domestic we caught earlier?
- What about him? - That blade you used
to cut the guy's zip tie,
it didn't look regulation.
Is it supposed to be?
Let me see it.
[Chuckles]
What, do you think I'm gonna have you written up?
Don't be a fucking douche. I just want to look at it.
Show me your drop piece.
What makes you think I got a drop piece?
I saw it strapped to your ankle
when you were wrestling the domestic.
So, basically you're saying
you show me yours, I'll show you mine?
Basically.
Ah, when Shakespeare said all the world's a stage,
he meant it's a fucking playground.
Shit.
Did you file off the serial numbers,
- or you get it this way? - Six, half-dozen.
You can pick one up pretty easy,
you keep your eyes open.
- I should get one? - I wouldn't leave home without it.
You unload on an unarmed citizen,
it's not a slap on the wrist no more.
Jail, murder charges, the works.
Racial discrepancy? It's a hate crime now.
Whoa.
That's fucking old school.
You carry this around in your pocket?
- So? - So?
You bump it the wrong way,
you got a six-inch blade in your patchouli.
- There's a safety on it. - Safety where?
Oh.
Whoa.
It's heavier than it looks.
Old as shit, too. Where'd you get this?
Uh, my sister got it off my mom.
Your mom?
She's packing?
It's my great-grandfather's.
Bud's old man?
Some kind of good luck charm.
What's good luck about it?
What's good luck about anything?
Only one reason I know of for a double-edge blade.
This, my friend, is a people-killing knife.
Cuts zip ties.
If Paulie says the safety word, what then?
We pull the plug.
We... we stop recording.
And then?
[Slurps]
Hit me up again, Collie.
The street team hustles him the hell out of there, yeah?
Oh, you don't like it?
Call the temperance league.
You don't have a street team in the vicinity?
I'm only budgeted for a team of three.
Well, send two of these guys.
They're agent trainees, Jimmy.
They're not firearm authorized yet.
Oh, for fuck's sake.
Give me a gun.
[Scoffs]
I was a Chicago cop, Ken.
I know how to use a fucking gun.
You're not wired in.
I don't need to be.
You interested in selling it?
It's a family heirloom.
- How about a trade? - For what?
This.
Eh, let me think about it.
You ever plant one of those? [Chuckles]
It's like asking a returning vet
if he ever killed a man.
So, what's the answer?
The answer, Ken...
Is send boys to the playground with toys like those,
somebody's gonna get seriously hurt.
It's un-evitable.
Feel like a pansy sipping through a straw, but I got a
tooth sensitivity this whole side.
- You got that? - Yeah. This whole side.
This side's fine, though, 'cause the dentist
replaced my silver fillings with plastic.
- They use plastic now? - Yeah, you know, like
recycled milk bottles, shit like that.
Said he couldn't do both sides at the same time,
so I'm on a wait list.
I can be trusted, Phil.
You're a special case, Paulie.
There's nothing special about me.
Ah, but there is, amigo.
Your grandfather's Bud O'Rourke.
Formerly Chicago's top cop, mobbed up to the Max.
I told you everything he told me.
On the other hand,
your dad is Jimmy Pariah...
Chicago's Serpico.
You hold that over me?
Nah, sins of the father are the father's sins.
You just need to know where your loyalties lie.
[Sighs]
Ah, come on.
Don't despair.
Nothing I'd like better than to bring you into the fold.
You've been a good soldier, the bosses like you.
I just want to fully vet you.
- So, fucking vet me. - I want to.
And I will.
I just need to fully determine where your head's at.
I'm gonna have another one.
Join me this time.
I'll stick with Pepsi.
I got to hit the can.
[Door rattles]
[Cellphone beeping]
[Telephone rings]
[Cellphone vibrating]
Waltham. [Feedback]
Fucking lippity lipshitz could blab like this for days.
I've been sitting in a squad two months with this guy.
It's fucking endless.
Paul, hang in there. You're... you're close.
He's giving up nothing.
Jesus Christ. This fucking thing hurts like hell.
Don't push so hard, okay?
It's like fishing.
Transponder's heating up. It's, like, starting to burn me.
He's comfortable with you.
- He'll... he'll talk soon. - Just be patient.
Is Dad there?
Uh, no.
No, he... he... he had to run out.
[Scoffs]
Well [Sighs]
when he gets back, tell him I know how hard this is now, huh?
- Okay. Okay, I will. - Oh, Ken, Ken.
I want to change the safety word.
What? Why?
Because he keeps calling Dad Chicago's Serpico.
He stole our safety word.
Well, what do you want to use?
[Sighs]
I don't know. My fucking heart's
pounding out of my chest right now. You think of something.
- How about Pacino? - Pacino?
- How the fuck is that better than Serpico? - [Door opens]
Pick something, then. Anything.
Uh...
All right, all right.
I got to go.
Wait a... what is... [Sighs]
[Heart beating]
Is that his heart?
[Beating continues]
Hey, good to see you. All right, take care.
[Grunts]
- Did you wash your hands? - Fuck you, Phil.
Cleanliness is next to godliness.
Who was that?
Some career mook from the 21st district.
Officer nobody.
- He's not vetted? - No.
There's two kinds of cops in Chicago, Paulie.
There's made guys, and there's mooks.
Them guys over there,
that's what you call a table full of fucking mooks.
You might think that every guy in his right mind
would want to be a made guy instead of a mook.
But this cannot be.
It would upset the balance.
The balance must be maintained
to preserve the illusion of propriety.
Propriety?
Yeah, you know. Law, order, all that shit.
You can't count on happy-ending cop shows
on TV to do all the work.
Hence the mooks.
Besides, you know,
you can't invite everybody to the club.
Kind of defeats the purpose of, uh, having a club.
- There's rum in this. - Oh.
He must've mixed it up, huh?
There you go.
- There's rum in this one, too. - You're kidding.
[Chuckles]
You seem twitchier than usual today, kid. Why is that?
Uh, I didn't sleep.
Your time of the month?
Yeah, Phil. I'm on the rag.
You like dogs?
What, is this part of the vetting process?
It might be.
Me, I got a terrier mix.
It's, uh, part Jack Russell, part rat terrier.
Anybody comes over, friend or foe,
he's out there like, uh,
"don't make me bite you.
I don't want to do it, but I'll do it if you make me."
The dog talks?
It barks. You know.
He's basically saying,
"it's my nature to tear your fucking throat out.
It's why god gave me these big-ass teeth.
So don't force my hand, or, you know, my paw," right?
[Chuckles]
"'Cause I'll do it, man.
Go straight for the jugular.
I know where it is."
Where were you this morning?
- This morning when? - I swung by your house. You weren't home.
Why would you swing by?
To offer you a ride to work, muchacho.
Thought we'd grab lunch before our shift.
Forgive me for being so considerate.
You ever have a dog?
Never?
Huh? No.
Not even as a kid?
- Nope. - Why not?
I... it... we... we just didn't.
You should get a dog, Paulie.
No!
You got something against dogs?
I'm more a cat person.
[Gun cocks]
[Grunts]
Yeah, dogs are loyal.
They'll love you no matter what, unless you mistreat them.
- In which case, they kill you. - Straight for the throat.
Not just a dog, though.
Family, too, to go with it.
Settle down with all that,
makes confusing things less confusing
and difficult decisions easier to make.
You got a family and a dog,
impossible choices make themselves.
I had a family.
Not just a mom and dad, you shit.
- You know, like, uh, one of your own. - I had one.
For real?
You're vetting me. Don't you know this shit?
It's not that kind of vetting, Paulie.
- It's not? - No. What do you think,
we do a background check,
create a dossier on you and shit?
Don't you?
Fuck you. No, it's just this, two people talking.
Relationships, loyalties. That's all we're vetting.
All right.
Tell me about your family.
- Uh, I got married pretty young. - Uh-oh.
- We were both 19. - Ooh.
Stick with it, kid.
Yeah, the "uh-oh" was born
about six months after the wedding.
Boy, girl?
Maria.
What's your wife's name?
Alice.
I'd say that's a nice name, but I don't like it.
[Chuckles]
Divorced?
Uh...
I had a substance-abuse problem.
Got a little out of hand, so...
Man, I didn't have my first divorce
till I was in my mid 30s.
First one's the hardest,
the most traumatic.
Second one's easy, though.
Of course, number two was a money-grubbing whore.
How many times you been married?
Three and counting. [Chuckles]
You ever try reconciling with the first wife?
You kidding?
We still get together every three to six months,
fuck each other's brains out.
You kidding?
No.
We can't stand each other,
but we can't keep our hands off each other.
Passion, man, it's, uh...
It's a mystery.
Fuck, fight.
Fuck, fight. It's endless.
Hey, listen, if I ever have you over for dinner,
don't mention this to wife three, agreed?
What happens if I don't get vetted?
[Chuckles] Then you wind up a mook.
What happened to Richie happens to me?
What happened to Richie?
I don't know. That's why I'm asking.
Death shocks people, Paulie.
But it shouldn't. It's a foregone conclusion.
Am I wrong?
No.
You know, you may want an alternate ending,
a happy end, even.
But the big "D" is what all mere mortals are dealt.
Full stop, lights out.
Good night, good luck.
Am I off base here?
No.
Consider how we raise our kids these days.
You got kids?
Yeah, I got kids.
What, do I look kidless to you?
There's no community no more.
This country, the very idea of community is a socialist joke.
- How many kids you got? - Two. I got two of the little bastards.
Why is the idea of community a joke?
Competition.
Other people aren't your friends and neighbors.
They are, but they aren't.
They're your competition.
That's the way we raise our kids.
That's what we pound down those little fuckers throats
from day one.
That's what unfettered American-style capitalism
has done to the very idea,
the noble idea of community.
Soy sauce?
Competition is any that which or anyone who
gets in the way of you achieving your objectives.
Is it cutthroat to cut a throat now and then
to eliminate the competition
so you can achieve your objective?
Ask any blue-blooded capitalist.
Not if you remove the moral trappings.
How do you remove the moral trappings?
You just do.
Are the dead still standing? No.
It's the killers that live on to tell the sordid tale.
Throughout history, it's the killers.
The killers call all the shots.
So, like survivalism.
I'm trying to impart pure thought to you here.
All right.
I'm trying to say what is is.
Buddhists, they get this shit instinctually.
It's counter-intuitive to Christian thought.
So try not to overthink it, okay, Paulie?
Okay.
[Sighs]
So,
did Richie kill himself,
or was it just staged to look that way?
You're asking me flat out.
Yeah.
Careful, kid.
Those other three retired cops
that I told you went to go see Big Bud,
they all died the same way.
It's weird.
What's weird is the extent to which
you're pressuring me for these details
before you're fully vetted.
Come here.
I'm gonna tell you this 'cause I like you, Paulie.
You remind me of me when I used to be me.
By that, I mean I trust you.
I think you know where your head's at,
by which I mean not firmly planted up your own ass.
I'm vetted?
After you hear this, you will be.
With Bud getting out...
Alliances are being formed,
battle lines drawn, so you're gonna have to choose.
Choose what?
Sides, moron.
Sides.
Okay, look.
All right, this is our universe, right?
On this side of the line
is Big Bud O'Rourke
and his old-world motley crew.
On this side of the line are the new bosses, and this...
That's you.
Why am I on the line?
Because Big Bud O'Rourke is your grandfather,
'cause he's family. Now, before I go on,
you need to think hard
about where your allegiance lies.
It's still with your family, you're fucked.
Now, you want me to stop,
want me to go on? You choose.
You choose.
All right.
Bud went to prison almost 20 years ago.
Nobody, and I mean nobody, expected him to make it out
in anything other than a pine box.
Back in the day,
him and his mafioso-loving crew ran the entire city.
But he can't expect to raise an army
just like that and take it all back.
He's a fucking dinosaur.
Hell, if Godzilla wants the earth back,
what, are we supposed to shrug and surrender it back to that
scaly-backed fire-breathing motherfucker without a fight?
- Godzilla's not a dinosaur. - Shut up and pay attention.
You were recruited
to cozy up to your grandfather,
to see what Bud was up to.
We had no idea who on his crew
was still active, still loyal.
So, sure, we had you find out and finger those guys.
Those old fucks had to be eliminated.
We couldn't let Bud regroup and make a power grab.
It's the Bush doctrine.
We struck preemptively.
Yeah, we staged those hits to look like suicides.
It's cleaner that way.
No holes to dig, people get to grieve, move on,
nice handwritten note for closure.
End of narrative.
Your friends in Homicide,
they're in on it?
Anybody that's paid to be in on it is in on it,
including you, provided you make the right choice.
Now, here's the clincher.
So, we know where your head's at.
The feds are gonna drop Bud tomorrow at the halfway house.
The new bosses need you to go by and see him.
And they need you to make sure Bud doesn't live to see Monday.
You want me to murder my own grandfather?
He's gonna die anyway, right?
It's a gesture of loyalty.
You have trouble eschewing the moral trappings,
I'll go with you.
You're a made guy now, Paulie.
I got you six.
- Synced and corrected by chamallow - - www.addic7ed.com -