[rumbles]
[thunderclap]
[guns firing]
[soldier over radio] We can't hold out much longer, sir!
[gunfire continues]
[soldier over radio] General Hummel, you've gotta get us outta here now!
[man] I won't let you down. I won't let you down, son.
[whirring]
[soldier] Goddamn it, sir!
How long do we have to wait? I've lost 15 men already!
[soldier #2] They're lightin' us up like a firestorm!
This is Hummel. Get my men outta there!
[soldier #3] We don't have clearance to go behind enemy lines.
[screaming]
[soldier #3] They're not coming for us, are they, sir?
[man] Congressman Weaver and esteemed members
of the Special Armed Services Committee.
I come before you to protest a grave injustice.
- [soldier] Aim! - [clicks]
[blasts]
[man] It has to stop.
I miss you so much.
There's something I've gotta do, Barb.
Something I couldn't do while you were here.
I tried.
You know I tried everything. And I still don't have their attention.
Let's hope this elevates their thinking.
But whatever happens...
...please don't think less of me.
[grunting]
[clicks]
[clanking]
Marine, inform the garrison CO
General Hummel's coming on board with an inspection team.
Yes, sir. Sir, it's an honour having you, sir.
- [shatters] - [yells]
[cocks]
- [grunts] - [shatters]
[grunts]
- [groans] - [indistinct chatter]
- About time for a guard meeting, huh? - Yeah, I'll tell ya.
[both grunt]
[yells]
[gasps]
[groans]
I got the access card. We got 30 minutes till those darts wear off.
Move it!
The access card, sir.
Let's do it.
[beeps]
2,400 magazine check.
Go, go.
[footsteps approaching]
- Man, it's wet out there. - Check me through, will ya?
- [shots] - [grunts]
[groans]
Clear!
- [clanking] - [whirs]
- I want 16, major! - [man] Move it!
[sputters]
[grunts]
[crashes]
- Evac! - [clanks]
[man] Seal the door!
- Come on, man! Seal it! - [man #2] No! No!
[whirs]
[man #2] Let me outta here! Oh, God! Let me outta here!
Let me out! Let me out!
Clear out. Get outta here!
[gagging]
Sorry.
[gags]
Let's move out.
Two more cc's of acetylene chloride.
[clinks]
That'll be $5, Isherwood.
You suck.
- [clatters] - [bursts]
You guys have too much time on your hands.
Yes! She's here! Bring it to me now. Thank you, Phil!
What's that? Why'd you get it sent here?
Carla wouldn't approve.
She thinks it's dumb to spend $600 on an LP.
Carla's right. Why don't you just spend $13 on a CD, man?
First of all, it's because I'm a Beatlemaniac.
And second, these sound better.
[alarm blares]
Could be serious. Could be sarin gas.
Dog out of JFK caught a whiff of something in this package
postmarked to a Bosnian refugee camp. Could be detergent, could be sarin gas.
Bosnian refugee camp?
Half a million Serbians reside in the US, Marvin.
- Serbians don't like Bosnians. - Can we get suited up?
- You bring the cockroaches? - Got 'em.
We have air lock, Stanley. Set to go.
October 1, 0900 hours.
Agent Stanley Goodspeed, Agent/Trainee Marvin Isherwood
initiating exam of wooden crate. Suspicion of sarin gas inside.
- Marvin, sarin is a...? - [Marvin] GB aerosol.
[Stanley] That is correct.
Let's see. We have some dirty magazines.
"Stone Age Cave Girls in the Raw".
Kinky. And... not a good sign.
[Marvin] Hello, little baby doll. Lookit, Stan.
- Hi there, Stanley. - Marvin, don't!
Hi, Stan.
Shit! Move back! Move back!
- [man] Powering exhaust. - [man #2] Hang on, guys.
We'll have that room clear! You'll be OK.
Jesus Christ!
[Stanley] OK, I've got some bad news and some really bad news.
The bad news is the gas is corrosive, and it's eating our suits.
- It's all over my hand, man! - [Stanley] The really bad news
is there's enough C4 explosive and gas
to blow the chamber and kill everybody in the building.
- Detonation two minutes. - Out now!
Seal us inside.
- [Stanley] Where are the sprinklers? - The acid's eating my su...
It's eating my fucking suit! All right? Shit!
[Stanley] Just wash us off!
- Where are sprinklers? - We're working on it. Flow problem.
That's a pretty big friggin' problem. Fix it now!
- We're working! How much time? - A minute ten.
- Look! - [man] We're gonna have the room clear.
- Tell 'em to take the atropine, now! - The atropine.
- What? - Where's my water, Lonner? One minute!
Marvin, the atropine, now!
[man #2] Inject it in your heart before your suit melts.
Shit!
- Make him take it too. - [man] Where's that water?
- Get that away from me! - Come on, fix it for Christ's sake!
Take the atropine now, for Christ's sake!
- We're fucked. - [Stanley] The poison's mixing.
What the fuck are you waiting for, Stanley?
You take the fucking needle now!
- Fuck! Shit! Fuck, shit! - [Stanley] Forty seconds!
If that suit melts... If you die, we all die!
Inject your heart and then diffuse the bomb!
Just do it, Stan!
What if I miss my heart? I can't see shit!
- Do it now! - Look how big this is.
You want me to stick this into my heart? Are you fucking nuts?
- All right, it's coming! - OK, here we go, man!
[man #2] Sprinkler activated.
How much time left?
Twenty seconds!
We're not gonna make it.
Fifteen.
Come on.
Clear!
Get me the fuck out of this gas chamber!
I almost stabbed myself in the heart with this thing.
[♪ Peter and Gordon: A World Without Love]
- Stan? - Hey, darlin'.
Hi, baby.
I had such an interesting day today.
Yeah, I had kind of an interesting day myself.
Oh, OK, you go first.
Just some terrorists decided to send a little care package, box of goodies,
which had to be neutralised before blowing up the office.
[strums]
So I took the rest of the day off. Glass of wine, little guitar. Just relaxing.
- Wow! - I mean it, honey.
The world is being FedEx'd to hell on a handcart.
I really believe that anyone who's even thinking about having a child
in this world is coldly considering an act of cruelty.
I know, I'm rambling, I'm complaining. I'm sorry.
- What's your news, baby? - I'm pregnant.
I'm sorry?
I'm pregnant.
[chuckling]
- Really? - Yeah.
Wow!
Is that all you're gonna say is "wow"?
- You're pregnant? - Three weeks.
How do you know? I mean, how do you know?
Blue! Just turned blue, so I went to the doctor.
You didn't mean what you just said, did you?
- When? - Just right now.
When you were talking about bringing a child into the world
and having it be an act of cruelty.
- I meant it at the time. - Stanley, at the time?
You said it seven and a half seconds ago.
Well, gosh!
A lot's happened since then. Look, we're not even married.
I know. It's funny you should mention that.
- It's funny? - Do you love me?
- Of course I love you. - Good.
- Will you marry me? - Whoa! Whoa! Wait, hey.
- Hey, marriage police, pull over. - Come on, Stanley.
I'm proposing to you right now.
[man] The Rock is the most famous and was the most feared prison ever built.
Is it true that there's never been an escape?
That's true. From 1936 until '63, when the prison closed,
there were 14 attempts.
No one is believed to have made it to shore, alive at least.
Hey, fellas. I'm sorry, tourists are not allowed here.
- I don't really give a shit! Do you? - [man] No.
- Come here, fruity. - Move!
Hey, girls? Hi, you all havin' a good time?
Yeah.
Will you do something for me? It's really important.
Tell your teacher you need to get back on the boat and go home now.
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Broadway!
This cell block housed the most awesome scum in America.
Ladies and gentlemen, I, Ranger Bob,
cordially invite you to become inmates of Alcatraz, temporarily, of course.
On the line!
Pretty tight quarters, aren't they, huh? Like being a caged animal.
Spend a couple of years in there...
What's the matter? Something wrong with the tour?
Tour's over, Bob.
What kind of fucked-up tour is this?
General Hummel, Captains Frye and Darrow reporting, sir.
Welcome to The Rock. Land the choppers on the back side
- and deploy as planned. - Aye, aye, sir. Move out!
[guide] I'm not allowed to carry a gun.
You're not allowed? I got a damn gun. If I'd have known this was gonna happen,
I'd have brought my motherfuckin' gun! Help!
Gentlemen, this'll be our new home.
Tom, I want my command centre right here.
- I want come up. - Roger that, sir.
Satellite over there. I wanna be up at 1600.
Let's move it.
Systems up.
Possible penetration point in the shower room.
- We're setting anti-intrusion. - I brought a personal touch, sir.
It's an anti-motion trembler device. It's custom-made.
Nobody knows about it and nobody expects it.
- What's it do? - We head-fake 'em with the laser beam.
And then if they disturb Mr. Backup here, we own 'em.
- [gunshot] - [screaming]
Ladies and gentlemen, you're being detained against your will.
For that, I apologise. It is not our intention in any way to harm you.
You will not be detained one minute longer
than is necessary for us to complete our mission.
Attention on deck!
Stand easy, men.
Make no mistake about it, gentlemen, we are now in harm's way.
For Baxter and I, this is the last campaign
in a career datin' back to Tet '68.
Likewise for Captain Hendrix, Sergeant Crisp,
who cut their teeth under my command in Desert Storm.
Frye, Darrow, my first operational situation with you and your men.
Thus far, your conduct reflects your reputations.
- Thank you, general. - Thank you, sir.
We have achieved our position through poise, precision and audacity.
To this we must now add resolve.
We'll be branded as traitors, the gravest capital crime.
Punishable by death.
A couple hundred years ago,
a few guys named Washington, Jefferson and Adams
were branded as traitors by the British.
And now they're called patriots.
In time, so shall we.
God willing, in less than 48 hours, you will evacuate this island
in gunships under cover of hostages and VX gas warheads.
Your destination: a non-extradition treaty country.
You will each be paid a fee of $1 million for services rendered.
But you can never again set foot on your native soil.
- Can you live with that? - Yes, sir!
The men of Marine Force Recon are selected to carry out
illegal operations throughout the world.
When they don't come home,
their families are told fairy tales about what happened to them
and denied compensation.
Well, I have choked on these lies my entire career!
Well, here and now, the lies stop!
God be with all of you. Man your positions, men.
[phone ringing]
This is FBI Director Womack.
Director, be advised.
Eighty-one, I say again,
81 civilians are under my control as of this moment.
You are to take measures to assure this remains a need-to-know classified fact.
Who is this?
Mr. Director, you have a very serious problem.
A battery of VX gas rockets is presently deployed to deliver
a highly lethal strike on the population of the San Francisco Bay Area.
I will call at 0100 hours to state my demands.
- I want to know who I'm talking to. - Brigadier General Francis X. Hummel,
US Marine Corps, from Alcatraz. Out!
- I'll cancel your reservations. - Get the Pentagon.
And call the San Francisco office. It seems Alcatraz was just reopened.
[man] Last night, Gen. Hummel, using brutal but non-lethal force,
under the guise of a security exercise, walked off with 15 poison gas rockets.
He lost one of his own men in the process.
That's General Hummel in Vietnam. I think he was a major at the time.
Three tours in Vietnam, Panama, Grenada, Desert Storm.
Three Purple Hearts, two Silver Stars and the Congressional Medal of...
Jesus! This man is a hero!
I think "legend" might be a better description, Sinclair.
Now we can add kidnapping and extortion to his list of accolades.
Mr. Sinclair, General Hummel is a man of honour.
[phone ringing]
General, it's him.
- Frank, it's Al Kramer. - Hi, Al, how you doin'?
I don't know, Frank. Why don't you tell me.
Got a lot of very, very worried people here, Frank.
I'll come straight to the point.
83 Force Reconnaissance Marines have died under my various commands.
47 in northern Laos and southern China.
Southern China? We never admitted we sent troops into China.
Who is this? Identify yourself.
White House Chief of Staff Hayden Sinclair, General.
How old are you, Chief of Staff Sinclair?
- I'm 33. - Well, Mr. Sinclair,
you've probably got no fucking idea what I'm talking about.
By your ninth birthday, I was runnin' black ops
and my men were responsible for over 200 enemy kills.
Al, put some rigging tape over Mr. Sinclair's mouth.
He's wasting my time.
- You want to continue, Frank? - Remember Operation Desert Storm?
Those surgical hits made by our smart bombs, covered so well on CNN?
It was my men on the ground
that made those hits possible by lasing the targets.
Twenty of them were left to rot outside Baghdad after conflict ended.
No benefits were paid to their families. No medals conferred.
These men died for their country,
and they weren't given a goddamn military burial.
The situation is unacceptable. You will transfer $100 million
from the Grand Cayman Red Sea Trading Company to an account I designate.
From this funds, reparations of$1 million will be paid
to each of the 83 Marines' families.
The rest of the funds, I will disperse at my discretion.
Do I make myself clear?
Except for the Red Sea Trading Company. What is that?
- Identify yourself. - This is FBI Director Womack, General.
It's a slush fund where the Pentagon keeps proceeds from illegal arms.
Jesus, Frank! This is classified information.
You alert the media, I launch the gas.
You refuse payment, I launch the gas.
You've got 40 hours, till noon day after tomorrow,
to arrange transfer of the money. I am aware of your countermeasure.
You know and I know it doesn't stand a chance. Hummel from Alcatraz. Out.
[Womack] All right. We have to identify the hostages
and contact each of their families.
Tell 'em something. Make up a story, we've gotta keep this undercover.
If this comes out, the city of San Francisco will be in chaos.
- I am talking anarchy. - Wait a minute, wait a minute.
What is the potential casualty rate for a single rocket
armed with VX poison gas, General Peterson?
- Sixty or 70. - Well, that's not so bad.
Thousand.
Seventy thousand dead!
One teaspoon of this hits the floor, it's lethal up to a hundred feet.
One teaspoon of this shit detonated in the atmosphere
will kill every living organism in an eight-block radius. Get the point?
What did Hummel mean by your countermeasure, General?
Standard poison is countered by napalm. Burns it, consumes it upon detonation.
The problem with VX poison gas is that it's designed specifically
to withstand napalm. That's where thermite plasma comes in. General?
Thermite plasma incendiary systems can burn hot enough to consume VX,
but they're still in the test phase. It's not operational.
Hummel knows this. We are dealing with one smart son of a bitch.
What's it gonna take to equip a flight of F-18s with thermite plasma
- within the next 36 hours? - An act of God.
- Excuse me? - All right, we can try.
I urge you to consider the use of this as a secondary initiative.
Go to our primary initiative. Admiral?
Bring in our SEAL ground commander, Commander Anderson.
Mr. Womack, who is your best chemical/biological man?
- [Marvin] That's interesting. - Oh, yeah.
That's very compelling.
- You like my pigtails? - Yeah, the pigtails are naughty.
Naughty. Naughty.
You're just an amaretto cream with peach sorbet persuasion.
[phone ringing]
- This isn't happening. - Stan, don't answer it.
- This isn't happening! - Just don't answer it. It's OK.
I have to. It's the office, baby. They know I'm home.
How could they possibly know that you're home?
It's the FBI.
Stanley!
Goodspeed. Yeah. OK, yeah.
- I'll be downstairs in ten minutes. - No, you won't.
- I have to go to San Francisco. - No, you don't.
Stanley, no, you do not have to go to San Francisco.
Are you kidding me now?
You need to stay here and talk to me about things.
- I've got to go, baby. - I am Catholic! Do you realise that?
I am pregnant and I am unmarried. This causes a serious problem for me.
I cannot believe you.
No, no.
I love you. I will marry you.
I just didn't plan on this, that's all.
- Come to San Francisco. - Really?
I'm sure it's just a training exercise.
Check into the hotel. Order some champagne.
- We finish what we started? - Exactly.
- Baby, you're gonna marry me? - You know it.
[laughing] You're gonna marry me!
- Honey, come on. Just a quick one. - I gotta go now.
A night-time airdrop incursion is out due to full moon.
Likewise a frontal seaside attack.
If we're compromised and shots are fired, Hummel might launch.
Our alternative is an attack from within the prison.
We penetrate through the tunnels under the buildings undetected
and emerge in its centre. We can jump Marines from behind,
and if we're lucky, take the rocket positions without a shot fired.
- You've studied architectural plans? - They're useless.
Alcatraz has been ripped up and rebuilt for years.
- Under there is a maze of shit. - There's no question, gentlemen.
We need first-hand intelligence of the tunnels.
- What about the former warden? - Died in 1979.
All the guards we contacted were useless.
Um...
There is someone who I think can help us.
This is for the sake of national security.
No! It's the sake of national security
that got us here in the first place 33 years ago.
I knew someday this would come back to bite us.
Forget it! He does not exist.
He does exist! We just chose to forget him for 30 years.
- We locked him up, threw away the key. - A lot of goddamn good it did us.
He broke out of two maximum security prisons.
- And if he hits the streets... - He's not gonna hit the streets, Jim.
30 years ago, he was a highly trained SAS operative.
He is my age now! I have to get up three times a night to take a piss.
We can't risk letting him out.
[Womack] He's a professional escape artist.
[prison door opening]
- Gosh. Neat... - Yeah.
- Neat plane. - Dr. Goodspeed. James Womack.
- A pleasure to meet you. Thank you. - Welcome.
You come very highly recommended. BA, Columbia, MA, PhD, Johns Hopkins.
Biochemistry, toxicology.
I'm one of those fortunate people who like my job, sir.
Got my first chemistry set at seven. Blew my eyebrows off.
We never saw the cat again. Been into it ever since.
- What do you know about VX gas? - Liquid.
Failed pesticide discovered by a mistake in 1952.
It's kinda like champagne. Monks thought they were making wine.
The bottle carbonated. Voilà! Champagne...
The gas, Dr. Goodspeed.
It's very, very horrible, sir.
It's one of those things we wish we could dis-invent.
This isn't a training exercise, is it?
No, Dr. Goodspeed, it's not a training exercise.
[siren blaring]
Good morning, director.
This is Ernest Paxton, in charge of West Coast operation.
- Dr. Goodspeed. - Pleasure to meet you.
- How do you do, sir? - It's been an interesting day so far.
The prisoner's here. Shall we?
My boys haven't been able to find a file on this guy. Who is he anyway, sir?
His name is John Mason,
a British national incarcerated on Alcatraz in 1962.
Escaped in '63.
I was under the impression no one ever escaped Alcatraz.
Paxton, don't argue.
[Womack] This man has no identity, not in the United States or Great Britain.
He does not exist. Understand?
I want one thing: how he escaped The Rock.
The route he took through the island's bowels.
[man] The papers are in order, sir.
[Womack] We're prepared to offer him a full pardon.
And, Paxton, no strong-arming Mason. I know him too well.
Well, if you know him, why don't you question him?
No, he'll remember me. I don't want his anger clouding the issue.
All right. I'll take care of him.
[door opening]
Mr. Mason, I'm Special Agent in Charge, Ernest Paxton.
In charge of what? Fucking me over for another three decades?
I don't know anything about your previous matters.
I'm here because a special situation exists
we feel you might be able to help us with.
What might that be? I've been in jail longer than Nelson Mandela,
so maybe you want me to run for president.
- Not exactly. - A pity.
- I feel rather like Alcamenes. - Who?
Alcamenes. He was imprisoned by his king in Ancient Greece.
- Like Sir Walter Raleigh. Same fate. - James I.
Even someone as bright as you must be aware
that there's a certain pattern emerging here.
- Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn? - Yeah, I heard of him.
Didn't he play hockey for the fuckin' Red Wings?
- That's the chap. - Get this straight, pops.
I don't like you any more than you like me.
But I'm here to make you a legitimate offer.
You wanna hear what I have to say or not?
By all means, dear Paxton. By all means.
We got a problem in a place that I think you know.
There's a hostage situation on Alcatraz.
Hostage?
Eighty-one tourists.
The Rock has become a tourist attraction?
Why don't we cut the shit. You know The Rock.
- You broke out. - Yes, successfully.
Yeah. Do yourself a favour while you're helpin' us.
I mean, it'd be nice to get out of jail while you're still vertical.
While you got a little lead left in your pencil.
While I'm considering your offer,
I want a suite in the Fairmont Hotel.
You know, I'm here to cut you a deal.
I am not here to bend over and take it up the ass from you.
Here. Here's a quarter.
Do yourself a favour. Call your lawyer. You're goin' back to jail.
[door closes]
- You're sending him back? - Not sending him anywhere.
I'm givin' him somethin' to think about.
With all due respect, I don't think we have time
- for him to sit and think about it. - Oh, really?
No, Goodspeed's right. You go talk to him.
- Me? - Yes.
- Sir, I'm not qualified. - You're an FBI agent!
- Your specialty? - Chemical weapons.
Don't mention that.
- You want me to lie? - Yeah, lie.
[Womack] We got less than 24 hours. Give it a shot.
OK.
Hi.
I'm an agent with the Federal...
...FBI. Uh...
- Well, I'm Stanley Goodspeed. - But of course you are.
At least he got his name right.
- Of course I am. - And you have an emergency.
That's right.
- And you need my help. - Exactly right.
- Coffee. - No, no, I'm fine. Thank you.
Offer me coffee.
Oh, yes! Well, that was, in fact, gonna be my next...
Can we get a cup of coffee in here, please?
And offer to take these off.
Mr. Mason, really.
- All kidding aside. - As a gesture of your good faith.
Prisoner requests to have his handcuffs taken off.
No, no, no, no.
Go ahead and have his handcuffs taken off.
Well, I guess that's one way to go.
This is a pardon and release contract from the attorney general's office.
Now, it makes you a free man, provided you cooperate.
So if you'll just sign...
- ...at... where it says... - "Signature"?
That's... Yes. "Signature".
[speaking foreign language]
"I fear the Greeks even when they bring gifts."
Oh, an educated man.
That rules out the possibility of you being a field agent.
In point of fact, I am a field agent, Mr. Mason.
- Really? - Yes.
- In which field? - Antiterrorism.
Then you're trained in weaponry, explosives and mortal combat.
Well trained.
Then it's the Fairmont Hotel.
- OK. - I want a suite,
a shower, a shave and the feel of a suit.
- May I also suggest... a haircut? - Am I out of style?
Unless you're a 20-year-old guitarist from Seattle.
- It's a grunge thing. - Grunge?
Yeah, well... OK, thank you very much.
All right. Call the Fairmont.
Close the floor if necessary, but I want him sealed off.
And he gets two hours max.
[coin clattering]
Great job, Goodspeed.
Why didn't you throw in a trip to Tahiti?
- I'll deliver this to attorney general. - No, you'll give it to me.
Take Attorney Reynolds outside.
There's a car waiting for you. Thank you.
That's a signed federal document, sir. Isn't that illegal?
You're not acquainted with the full facts.
With all due respect, sir, I'd like clarification. I gave that man my word.
Damn it! You're on a need-to-know basis, and you don't need to know.
It's... it's kind of curious, but, uh...
...Sir Walter Raleigh, Alcamenes, Solzhenitsyn, they...
Well, they were all wrongfully imprisoned.
[alarm sounding]
Womack! Now, why am I not surprised, you piece of shit?
Peace! Peace!
[phone ringing]
[Carla] Hey, we're not home. Leave a message.
Hi, darling, it's... it's me.
Listen, don't come to San Francisco. I repeat, do not come to San Francisco.
- Stanley, no! - Carla.
- Like hell I'm not coming! - Wait. Carla?
- [dialling] - [ringing]
Who's Carla? And why don't you want her to come to San Francisco?
You're on a need-to-know basis, and you don't need to know.
- [barks] - Watch it, he'll bite you. [laughing]
Good. Mobile command is fully operational.
We'll be there in approximately two hours.
- I'm not armed, sir. - Right.
- I am unarmed, sir. - Well, where's your issue?
I left it in my... my sock drawer.
A gun? For what? You're a chemical freak.
No, I'm a chemical superfreak, actually. But I still need a gun.
Give him a goddamn gun.
Have you fired one of those things since the academy?
[♪ Scott McKenzie: San Francisco]
[John singing]
Room service? Listen.
This is the penthouse. Do you do snacks, drinks?
[man] Hello!
- You the barber? - No. Stylist.
Barber.
- Just clippers. No scissors. - No scissors?
You've got to be kidding me, no scissors!
- Did they tell Picasso, "No brush"? - Scissors, this man could kill you.
I can't cut anyone's balls off with a trimmer, now, can I?
Why don't we do this outside? Get some sun.
[groans] Who did this to you? This is just not right. In fact, it's nasty!
- Well, it's a grunge thing. - Well, it's some kind of thing.
Do we have time for a sea kelp protein pack and maybe some colour?
- No. - OK.
- Not very nice, is he? - No, he's not.
[stylist humming]
[♪ Frank Sinatra: Leaving On A Jet Plane]
Hey, somebody ordered it. Can't let it go to waste.
- Don't you ever stop eatin'? - Not when it's free.
- We're supposed to be on duty. - Hey, don't worry. He's an old man.
The boss is watchin' him. Try this lobster.
Mm-hmm?
My secretary here will settle the bill.
So, what do you have in store for me, Womack, when this is over?
You'll get your life back, Mason.
But you could've given me my life back years ago.
- Why should I trust you now? - You've got my word.
Will you shake on it?
[screaming]
- Freeze, mister! - [Womack] Oh, man!
Help!
Drop the gun, or I drop your boss.
You will not!
[screaming]
- He's getting very heavy. - Then pull him up.
Please don't!
[whimpers]
Help! Shit!
Come on. Have a scallop. Come on. Catch.
You hoist him in!
Help! Help! Help!
- Where's Mason? - Help! Hang on!
- Where's Mason? - Mason's gone!
Gone?
Clear.
Living room's clear!
Oh, my God! Oh, my God!
All units, this is Caretaker. We have a signal six. He's in the hotel!
I don't wanna know nothin'.
I never saw you throw that gentleman off the balcony.
All I care about is, are you happy with your haircut?
Easy!
Watch it, you fuckhead! You're gonna pull my arm out!
Watch out!
Watch it!
[shouting in foreign language]
- [man] Hey, watch it! - He's over there!
Hey!
This is my Humvee. I don't want dings, dents or scratches,
or I'll have your ass. Hey!
Hey! Stop! Hey!
[screaming]
[man] I was inside the bedroom with Jack Powell!
[man #2] Hey, call the guard! Go!
FBI.
[tyres squealing]
Move!
[sirens blaring]
Whoa! Whoa!
Suspect is in a black Humvee, heading west on California.
Speed approximately 70 miles per hour.
Get out of the way!
I want a net put on this son of a bitch, you hear me?
This guy's hittin' every fucking thing in sight to block us!
I hope you're insured!
Oh, well. Why not?
You're goin' down!
[phone ringing]
- Hello? - [man speaking German]
I'm only borrowing your Humvee!
Information? San Francisco?
Jade Angelou. That's A-N-G...
Welcome aboard, y'all. How y'all doin' today?
Hang on!
Holy shit!
[horn honking]
Whoa! Oh!
[tyres squealing]
Oh, no!
We're gonna crash! Save yourselves!
Oh, my baby!
Oh, no!
Oh, no.
Oh, God!
Hey, man, you just fucked up your Ferrari.
- [man] Baby's goin' down in flames! - It's not mine.
Neither is this!
Damn! This sucks!
Where's that son of a bitch at? I'm gonna hunt him down!
That motherfucker ain't safe nowhere.
- [telephone rings] - Chem weapons. Isherwood.
Marvin, look up Wolfburg Federal Penitentiary.
The inmate is Mason, John.
Stan, listen. I'm gettin' out of this government shithole.
Goin' to Orkin to design roach motels. Cool, huh?
Look, I stole a kid's motorcycle. I'm not feeling too good.
- Wolfburg! Got it? - Yeah, I got it.
Magrane, Masconi, Masters. No Mason.
Go to February '76. Who was transferred to Wolfburg from San Quentin?
This is weird. They got medical records. They got place of birth. Glasgow.
Uh... But they don't have a name.
Wait a minute. Next of kin. Jade Angelou of 32 Stenson Drive, San Francisco.
- Jade? - No, Stacy. Jade's friend.
- Were you afraid to come alone? - Yeah.
- It's OK. - I'll be over here if you need me.
The last photograph I had of you, you were about ten.
Yeah?
Well, I found a picture of you among my mom's things when she died.
Oh, yeah? Well...
Why don't we take a walk?
I got him. Palace of Fine Arts.
Your mother... Yeah, well, she was very special.
Yeah, she was.
But I don't think we should romanticise what happened between you and her.
Meeting in a bar after a Led Zeppelin concert.
Head out, and I was the result.
I'd like to think it would've led somewhere if only...
If only what? Six federal marshals hadn't kicked down our door
and dragged you back to prison?
- I'm sorry. - It's all right.
- So they let you out? - Yeah.
That's good.
What did you do?
Jade, I don't have a great deal of time here.
But I'll be coming back. And...
- Maybe we can... - What? We can what?
You know, you're almost the only evidence
that I exist.
- But I don't know you. - That's what I want to change.
I've rehearsed this speech a thousand times on the chance that we would meet.
Here we are, and I'm lost.
Well, I don't know how I'm supposed to be feeling either.
Jade, I'm not an evil man.
If you can believe that, then it's a start.
OK.
[sirens wailing]
Is this about you?
You broke out of prison again, didn't you?
- Why did you come to me? - FBI. Your father's working with us.
He's helping us resolve a dangerous situation.
- He is? - Yes, ma'am.
Well, gee whiz, John, I guess we oughta get goin'.
Whatever you say, Stanley.
Thank you. Could've handled it differently.
What do you say we cut the chitchat, a-hole?
You almost got me killed twice. And my jaw hurts like hell!
- Good. - Cocksucker!
If I had my way, you would be shipped back to Wolfburg in leg irons
and caged for the rest of your natural fucking life!
You wrecked half the city!
- Now, tell me about the tunnels. - If you know the system,
it will take you wherever you need to go.
There's an intake pipe here, below low tide. Is that our best access?
Yes. That's exactly where I came out.
Beneath the cistern,
there's a connection to the abandoned septic system.
- How many feet is that? - Uh... fifty-seven paces.
Where do we go from there?
Where do we go from there, huh?
That's a good question.
- I have no idea. - What?
I mean, I'll know it when we're all inside.
No. You're not goddamn goin'. Show us on the blueprints.
I can't! My blueprint was in my head.
I was underground for three days in the dark,
just waiting for the tides to be right.
But don't worry. It'll all come back to me.
- You're not going anywhere, Mason. - Wait a second. This piece of work
might be the only chance those people over there have.
If he's not going, then why did we get him out of jail?
- He's smart. - I got him out to get you people in,
- not go with you. - If it's the only way
of getting the intelligence I need, then he goes.
[Womack] He'll fuck with you.
You compromise my men's lives, and I'll bury you out there.
Now, Womack,
you're between The Rock and a hard case.
How is your bowling arm?
Dr. Goodspeed, the goal
is to take out the launchers, then neutralise VX chemical rounds.
We know the poison's in the prison morgue
from the satellite thermal imaging, which is these colourised dots.
Have you ever seen one of these devices?
No, sir, but I've studied them.
I should begin briefing on defusing and detoxification.
Got a neat layout of the chem as well as the rocket,
- so let's get rolling. - That won't be necessary.
Oh, it's very necessary, sir.
The power of this chemical is way beyond anything you can imagine.
An ecological disaster, sir.
Plus, the devices themselves are complicated.
That's why you're coming with us.
- I am? - You're the expert.
What's your problem?
You mean I'm going... going out there, under the water?
Well, earlier today you wanted a gun.
Now, you're getting a gun and a wet suit.
You ever been in a combat situation?
- Define "combat", sir. - Shep?
An incursion underwater to retake an impregnable fortress
held by an elite team of US Marines in possession of 81 hostages
and 15 guided rockets armed with VX poison gas.
Oh. In that case, no, sir. Excuse me.
[vomits]
- Here. - Thank you.
You don't look too good.
In fact, you look like shit.
My stomach's doing hula hoops around my ass.
You all right? I mean, you gonna make it through this thing?
I don't know.
I always expected something like this was going to happen,
but nothing prepares you for it. Now, I'm... I'm responsible
for a whole city.
[water running]
Look, I know this isn't easy for you.
Remember, you were trained for this situation.
Believe me, it'll come back to you.
Besides, you got the best SEAL team in the country backing you up.
OK. You're right.
I'll be on the wire. I'll help talk you through it.
There's something else.
It's terrible. No, it's wonderful,
except it isn't.
My girlfriend's pregnant,
and she's just flown in to see me.
You keep your mind on what you're doing tonight.
I'll send someone to pick up your girlfriend
and bring her to the command centre.
- Hummel! - [man] Hello, Frank. Lou Linstrom.
I'm at the White House with General Kramer.
Frank, we're havin' a few problems with the account transfer.
Don't tell me problems. Tell me solutions.
We spoke to the president. You're aware of his stance on terrorism.
- So we'd like to... - This isn't about terrorism.
This is about justice.
It's about reminding people who found it convenient to forget.
- This is goin' nowhere, Frank. - Then let me tell you what is.
Fifteen VX gas rockets into the heart of San Francisco.
You got 17 hours to deliver the money.
Or be prepared to reap the whirlwind, gentlemen.
- What's the word from Mojave? - General Peterson can give us
no definite assurance on the thermite plasma.
That is the word.
Green light to SEAL incursion.
Fall in! All right, listen up.
Mr. Mason will run point for us. It Shepard will be attached to his hip.
You breathe, he breathes with you. You piss, he helps. Understood?
Goodspeed is our specialist. He neutralises the threat,
we launch green flares and we wait for the cavalry.
Make no mistake, gentlemen. We're in the fight of our lives,
against the greatest battalion commander in the Vietnam War. I shit you not.
Any questions?
Let's load up!
After you, ace.
Pass out and activate the minicams.
Everything set here? Minicams operational?
Roger that, sir. We are online.
Shep, what's the status on the special operational gear for Mr. Mason?
Let's see. We have...
...one quart of kerosene in a squeeze bottle.
Three washers and waterproof matches.
Use green flares to signal when the threat's neutralised.
This is atropine. If you come in contact with gas, 20 seconds
to inject it into your heart. Don't fuck with me on this. It may save your life.
I have three incoming bogeys bearing 275. Range: 6,000 metres.
FBI command centre?
I would just love for you to tell me what is goin' on.
- Nope. - Stanley Goodspeed is my boyfriend.
Actually, he's my fiancé.
- Where is he? - Classified, lady.
OK. Well, you just sit here and act like a Bureau bonehead.
Hey, where are you...? Goddamn it!
Decoy choppers commencing run to Alcatraz.
I just lost one, sir. I just lost one.
We only got two flying in. I just lost one.
Shit!
In my day, we did it all with a snorkel and a pair of flippers.
- Your day? - Yes. Didn't you read my résumé?
I don't... I don't know anything about you.
- I know something about you, Godspell. - Goodspeed.
Goodspeed, Godspeed, Godspell...
You never went to any antiterrorist school.
So just make sure you don't get us all fucking killed.
- We're goin' dark. - Night vision!
Raider One has dropped below radar coverage heading around Treasure Island.
Sir, we've got two bogeys bearing due east and closing.
Decoys?
- Prepare to deploy! - Good luck, commander.
Sir, Raider One is at the drop zone.
Stanley's not a very good swimmer. I mean, he can't even snorkel.
- Everyone good to go? - Good to go!
- [mumbles] Good to go!
Good to go!
SDU's have been deployed, Eagles are in the water.
Major, I want the perimeter patrolled to the west end. Double-time.
- Yes, sir. Hendrix! Lead the patrol. - Aye, aye, sir.
Let's move. Move out! Move out! Move out!
[man] The Eagles are on The Rock. They've entered the cistern room.
Thank you very fucking much, Mr. Mason. You've led us into a room with no exit.
Any ideas, Dillinger?
- Figure it out. We're sitting ducks. - We're tight on time.
You stand by the door until I open it.
I'd like to know how you plan on accomplishing that.
Through here.
- You're shitting me. - I memorised the timing.
I just hope it hasn't been changed.
You catch one of those flame bursts, you're a corpse.
Thank you.
- You said never leave his sight... - Stand fast, lieutenant.
Have a nice day.
- Where'd you dig up this guy? - That's classified.
Clear here, sir. No motion sensors tripped.
- Nothing. - Well, tell 'em to stay out there.
Sweep forward!
Looks like he fucked us, commander.
I knew it. That son of a bitch jumped ship.
[door opening]
Welcome to The Rock.
- Mason. - That's a no-no.
That's the subway. That'll drop you into the tunnels.
Do it!
[grunting]
[man] Sir, the Eagles have breached the tunnel system.
You enjoying this?
Well, it's certainly more enjoyable than my average day.
Reading philosophy, avoiding gang rape in the washroom.
Though it's less of a problem these days. Maybe I'm losing my sex appeal.
Got seismic activity in one of the storm grates. North side.
Continue patrolling the area.
Sweep forward!
Commander, halt. We've got movement.
- They're hearing sounds above, sir. - Stand fast.
Down, down, down.
West storm drain's clear.
Ninety-seven paces to the shower room.
[man] The Eagles are at the access tunnel.
Right under the shower room, sir.
Fibre optics.
- Something's not right. - I got a bad feeling about this.
[electronic beeping]
Quiet.
Motion sensors.
- Beams cutting across manhole covers. - Deal with it.
Commander, the beam is hitting some sort of reflective device.
Possibly a prism.
I want to use a mirror to cut the beam,
send the beam back to its source, and then I'm gonna move the prism.
[electronic beeping]
Motion on a trembler in the shower room, sir.
We got visitors. Let's move.
Got it. Good to go.
Fuck, man! I knew this would happen! Fuck!
Move!
Stand fast. We'll secure the area.
They're entering into the shower room, sir.
They're securing the area.
Just sit tight.
[man] Drop your weapons! Drop 'em!
- Stand fast! - [man #2] Hold your fire!
- [man #1] Drop your weapons! - Hold your fire!
It's a fucking trap.
This is General Hummel. Drop your weapons!
- Drop 'em! - Anderson here, General Hummel.
Commander. Team leader.
Commander, if you have concern for the lives of your men,
safety their weapons and place them on the deck.
- This is not happening. - Sir, we know why you're out here.
God knows I agree with you.
But like you, I swore to defend this country against all enemies,
foreign, sir, and domestic.
General, we've spilled the same blood in the same mud.
You know goddamn well I can't give that order.
We're dead.
Your unit is covered from an elevated position, commander.
I'm not gonna ask again. Don't do anything stupid.
No one has to die here.
Men following the general, you're under oath as United States Marines!
Have you forgotten that?
We all have shipmates we remember.
Some of them were shit on and pissed on by the Pentagon.
But that doesn't give you the right to mutiny!
You call it what you want! You're down there, we're up here!
- You walked into the wrong damn room! - Stand fast!
One last time. Tell your men to safety weapons, drop 'em.
- I cannot give that order! - I am not gonna repeat!
- I will not give that order! - What is wrong with you?
- Stand fast! - Oh, my God!
- Waste these fuckers. - [Hummel] Last time.
Order your men to safety their weapons...
Cease fire!
Don't go.
Cease fire!
[screams]
Cease fire!
Shit! Goddamn it! Let go of me. Let go of me!
Don't. Don't go.
Fuck.
It's over.
[sobs] Oh, God!
Mason.
[electronic beeping]
- We got some movement, two of 'em. - [Womack] Who? Who is it?
- Eagles 11 and 12. - It's Goodspeed and Mason.
- I knew it. - I've gotta get a team together right now.
- Move with the second option. - Invite another massacre? No way.
We've got a 60-year-old convict and a lab rat. I'm telling you, it's over.
Not for Mason, it isn't.
Goodspeed, I'm not gonna kill you.
- Where are you going? - Off this bloody island.
What? What for?
[Ernest] Goodspeed. Goodspeed, do you read me?
It's for you.
- Sir? - What's the status?
The status is they're dead. They're dead!
It's just me and Mason. Now he says he's leaving.
That is unacceptable. Do you hear me? Unacceptable!
Well, there's a problem, sir. He's got a gun.
- What do you have, a fuckin' water pistol? - No, sir.
Go after him and stop him.
I didn't want this. Jesus, I didn't want this.
You knew this might happen.
- Maybe now they'll pay up. - Maybe now they won't, captain.
Then maybe we need to execute a few hostages.
- Got a live one! - Put a bullet in him.
- You heard him. End it! - Holster that sidearm, captain.
Sir?
You made a terrible mistake.
And more of our brothers have died in vain.
Damn you for forcing me into this position.
I need to talk to you right now, alone.
Now you told me I'm on a need-to-know basis.
I'm tellin' you now,
I need to know who the fuck John Mason is right now, sir.
All right, you wanna know?
1962. J. Edgar Hoover is head of the FBI, some say the country.
No secret he kept microfilm files on prominent Americans and Europeans:
de Gaulle, British members of Parliament, even the prime minister.
This guy had dirt on everybody in the world.
I know all the cloak-and-dagger stories. Where does Mason fit in?
Mason was the British operative who stole files.
Bureau agents caught him at the Canadian border.
Of course, the British claimed they'd never heard of him.
And we held him without trial until he gave up the microfilm,
but he never did.
I'm surprised Hoover didn't use his daughter as leverage.
Hoover was dead in '72. She wasn't born yet.
Today, well, it's a different Bureau.
So you held this guy without trial his whole life. No wonder he's pissed.
This man knows our most intimate secrets from the last half century:
The alien landing at Roswell, the truth about the JFK assassination.
And Mason's angry, he's lethal, he's a trained killer.
And he is the only hope that we have got.
Mason! Mason!
- There are 81 hostages still up there. - Yeah, like me.
You wanna play tough? Wanna play tough with me?
OK. FBI! Freeze, sucker!
- I'll fire. - No, you won't.
- Throw down. - You're not the sort.
Let's find out.
I could. You, no.
Besides, your safety's on.
[Ernest] Goodspeed, have you resolved the situation?
Not yet.
- He's got all the guns now, sir. - Shit!
Right, I don't use guns, don't kick down doors.
- This is what I do. - I haven't got my glasses.
What it says is chemical weapons specialist.
That's right. I got a lunatic up there, man,
with 15 missiles armed with some really funky stuff.
That lying Womack.
- You could've told my daughter. - It was classified.
Look, I'm in the same situation.
They've got my girlfriend in the city, a baby on the way.
Look, I can defuse the rockets. I really can.
But I'm gonna need your help, and I'm gonna need it right now.
Sir, this man's weapons and tack radio are missing!
Shit, we got a rodent problem. Flush the pipes.
Probably a maze of tunnels on this goddamn island. Check every access.
Sir.
Even if you escape from the island, you can't escape the rockets.
So where are you gonna go? Go where? What are you gonna do?
[Stanley] Show me where the morgue is, Mason.
[John] I'm out of here.
[Stanley] What about your daughter? Mason?
Rodents located.
The way I see it, you don't really have any choice, do you?
I don't think you do.
Move!
- They're on to us. - Burn 'em out.
This mother's gonna blow big.
I don't understand. How could we lose radio contact all of a sudden?
We've lost come. Still got 'em on locaters.
- So, what's it gonna be? - What?
How do you like your choices?
- I don't. - That's what I thought.
All right, come on.
This is the oldest part of Alcatraz.
Did you know it was originally a Civil War fort?
Oh, really? Yeah, wow. You know, I like history, too,
and maybe when this is all over, we can stop by the souvenir shop.
But right now I just... I just... I wanna find some rockets.
Don't tempt me.
We are going to the morgue.
- You sure you're ready for this? - I'll do my best.
Your best? Losers always whine about their best.
Winners go home and fuck the prom queen.
Carla was the prom queen.
- Really? - Yeah.
Locaters have them approaching the morgue, sir.
Come on, come on. You can do it, doc.
Shit!
[screaming]
You must never hesitate.
I think you're shooting too close to the rocket.
- Him, but not the rocket. - Any other news, professor?
Not the rocket! Not the rocket.
[groaning]
I got a little somethin' for ya.
[screaming]
Oh, yeah, OK. That's just about the most awful thing I've ever seen.
Mason...
...the second you don't respect this, it kills you. Put it over there.
You've been around a lot of corpses. Is that normal?
- The feet thing? - Yeah, the feet thing.
- Yeah, that happens. - I'm having a hard time concentrating.
- Can you do something about it? - Like what? Kill him again?
Listen, I'm just a biochemist.
And most of the time I work in a glass jar and lead a very uneventful life.
I drive a Volvo, a beige one.
What I'm dealing with is one of the most deadly substances
the Earth has ever known. What do you say you cut me some friggin' slack?
Elegant string-of-pearls configuration. Unfortunately, incredibly unstable.
- What exactly does this stuff do? - If the rocket renders it aerosol,
it can take out the entire city of people.
Really? And what happens if you drop one?
Happily, it'll just wipe out you and me.
- How? - It's a cholinesterase inhibitor.
Stops the brain sending nerve messages down the spinal cord in 30 seconds.
Any epidermal exposure or inhalation, and you'll know.
A twinge at the small of your back as the poison seizes your nervous system.
Do not move that!
Your muscles freeze, you can't breathe.
You spasm so hard you break your own back, spit guts out.
- But that's after your skin melts off. - My God.
I think we'd like God on our side at the moment, don't you?
So, what I'm doing now is removing the guidance system chips
so the rocket will splash down after 500 feet. All right, let me have that.
You can let go of it. All right, just back away. Just back away!
Sir, morgue team has not checked in.
Blackbird One, this is Blackbird. Over.
Blackbird One, this is Blackbird. Come in, goddamn it!
Somebody's still there. Let's move!
Rats alive! Close on the morgue!
Go, go, go, go, go, go, go!
Frye, Darrow, hustle up. We got more company!
Hold it.
Converge on the morgue. Move out.
Goodspeed, come on. Come over here.
Good. I love pressure. I eat it for breakfast.
Come on. Time's up.
Three rockets somewhere else. We have to find them!
Come on!
Clear!
I'm too old for this.
- Where's it go? - I've no idea.
Sir, all the guidance chips are gone.
Captain, I guess you didn't take care of the rat problem.
- No, sir. - There are two dead men here
who strongly suggest you finish the job.
Yes, sir. Yes, sir! Rio, Royce, let's go!
- You don't know where this goes? - No, I don't know where it goes.
It's picking up speed. Know how to slow it down?
No, I don't.
[screaming]
God!
Mason, you all right?
Yes, perfectly OK, you fucking idiot!
- They're coming. - Who?
- The Marines! - Where?
No! No! No!
[screaming]
- What the fuck's goin' on? - Let's cut him off.
No! No!
[soldier continues screaming]
[screaming]
Mason!
You motherfucker!
Die! Die! Die!
I'm rather glad you didn't hesitate too long.
How do you... do it?
Oh, I was trained by the best. British intelligence.
Come on.
But in retrospect, I'd rather have been a poet or a farmer.
OK.
OK, the president arrives in three hours.
His directive is to string Hummel along until the air strike is operational.
- What's the word from Mojave, general? - The same as last time, Lou.
They're going as fast as they can.
- Do it over here. - On your knees. On your knees!
[Hummel] Navy SEALs, listen up. You've got something that belongs to me.
Twelve guidance chips, to be precise.
Let me remind you there are lives at stake, civilian lives.
Speak up.
- Speak up! - [whimpering] I, uh...
- Tell them your name. - My name is Larry Henderson.
- Oh, man. - And I'm a father of three.
And they've got a gun to my head.
You've got three minutes to return the chips to the exercise yard
- or Mr. Henderson won't have a head. - Oh, no.
Hey.
Now, three to go. You find them and defuse them, OK?
- All right. - All right.
I'll try and delay Hummel and give you more time.
Hey, what about Mr. Henderson's head?
OK? What do you mean?
[cocks gun]
OK.
[prisoners voices overlap]
- [woman] Help us. - [woman #2] Come on.
- General. - Who the hell are you?
I'm all that's left of the enemy.
Bingo.
Stand easy.
Thought I'd been in the service a long time.
- Name and rank, sailor. - It's Army, actually.
Answer the question. And address him as "general, sir".
Captain John Patrick Mason, general, sir,
of Her Majesty's SAS. Retired, of course.
You're a long way from home, captain. How the hell are you involved in this?
I have a unique knowledge of this prison facility.
I was formerly a guest here.
Hi, sweetie.
Hey, come back here, little boy.
Did they bother to tell you who I am, why I'm doing this?
Or are they just using you?
All I know is you were big in Vietnam. I saw the highlights on television.
You wouldn't have any fucking idea what it means
to lead the finest men into battle, and then see their memory betrayed.
I don't quite see how you cherish the memory of the dead
by killing another million. And this is not combat.
It's an act of lunacy, general, sir.
Personally, I think you're a fuckin' idiot.
"The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time
with the blood of patriots and tyrants." Thomas Jefferson.
"Patriotism is the virtue of the vicious", according to Oscar Wilde.
- Thank you for making my point. - Where are the guidance chips?
Where are the guidance chips?
- I destroyed them. - That was a bad move, soldier.
Does that mean you'll execute us both?
[machine gun firing]
[grunting]
You're lucky that old man Hummel wants you alive.
'Cause I'd take pleasure in guttin' you, boy.
[Stanley singing] ♪ I'd take pleasure in guttin' you, boy
[in deep voice] "I'll take pleasure in guttin' you, boy."
What is wrong with these people, huh, Mason?
Don't you think there's a lot of, uh... a lot of anger
floatin' around this island? Pubescent volatility? Don't you think?
A lot of angst, a lot of, "I'm 16, I'm angry at my father" syndrome?
I mean, grow up!
We're stuck on an island with violence-for-pleasure-seeking
psychopathic Marines. Shame on them!
Anyway, I only got one chem round. There's two left.
- Mason? - Yes, I'm here.
I was just thinking how wonderful it was
when the inmates weren't allowed to talk in here.
Not allowed to talk.
How'd you do it?
Nurtured the hope that there was hope.
That one day I'd breathe free air.
Perhaps meet my daughter.
Modest hopes, but they kept a man alive.
What'd they put you away for, John?
Oh, that's a long story.
Well, I'm not goin' anywhere.
When was the last communication from our men on Alcatraz?
- Seven hours. - [phone ringing]
- Thermite plasma is operational. - Get me the president.
- Be seated. - Consider yourselves on ground alert.
If we receive launch authority, your mission is thermal destruction
of Alcatraz Island. The entire island is to be blanketed,
not one square inch missed. Eighty-one American civilians
and a number of US Marines will lose their lives in this air strike.
Why didn't you just tell them where the microfilm was
and create a solution?
The moment they had the microfilm, they'd suicide me.
- Some solution. - And you ended up here.
Which brings me to another question. When you broke out...
Let me see if I can get this straight.
You went down the incinerator chute, on the mine car,
through the tunnels to the power plant, under the steam engine...
That was really cool, by the way.
...and into the cistern through the intake pipe.
But how, in the name of Zeus's butthole,
did you get out of your cell?
I only ask because in our current situation,
well, it could prove to be useful information, maybe!
Trade secrets, my son.
Wow.
General, two operational rockets left.
One's at the lower lighthouse, one on the roof. Both birds are ready to fly.
- General, can you hear me? - I heard you, captain.
Just makin' sure.
Should we prepare for launch, general?
- I'll handle the strategy, captain. - Yes, sir.
The hour is approaching, sir. Just letting the general know of the time.
- I'm very aware of the time, captain. - Aye, aye, sir. Lettin' you know.
My boys are ready, cocked, locked, ready to rock.
- Mason, where're you going? - I vowed I wouldn't die in this toilet.
You're not leaving! There's a madman in there with his hand on a button!
Shh!
Some sniper's gonna get his ass.
Stop moving, Mason.
Mason, stop moving.
Hummel won't do it. He's a soldier, not a murderer.
- I read it in his eyes. - You read his eyes?
Oh, well, then, everything's just fine!
- I can't afford that chance. - Why don't you talk louder?
Three minutes to go, sir.
- They're not gonna call, Frank. - Oh, they'll call.
They'll call if we fire one of our rockets up their ass.
Sir.
[phone ringing]
- Hummel. - Hi, Frank. It's Al Kramer here.
- How's it going out there? - How do you think it's goin'?
- We're gonna need another hour. - You've got three minutes.
We have to get authorisation from the president.
- You've got three minutes. - Please don't do anything stupid.
They want another hour.
That's bullshit. That's bullshit, general. They're lyin'!
They're calling our bluff, sir. They're playing you for a fool, sir.
Order the launch, general.
Come on, general. Let's be all we can be.
- The mission's not complete! - Well, mine is.
When this is over, you'll go back home,
driving Carla and your baby insane in your beige Volvo.
And I'll be dead or back in prison, which is the same thing.
You're not leaving. [grunting]
[gasping]
All right, I'll do it myself.
I got three weeks' weapons training.
I'll kick the... out of a platoon full of Marines.
No problem.
- Major, patch me into Roof Battery. - Aye, sir.
Fire open control circuit coordinates to the roof, sir.
Let's go!
Laser powered up!
- Oh, no. - I said, on your knees!
My name's Stanley Goodspeed. I'm a chemical weapons specialist for the FBI.
- Uh... glass or plastic? - What?
- Glass or plastic? Glass or plastic? - Shut the fuck up!
If the winds change after you launch rockets,
- we're all gonna die. - Shut up!
And you're gonna end up in either a glass jar or a plastic bag.
So, what do you say you do the math, hand over the gun,
- and let's go find some rockets? - I said shut the fuck...
You made the right choice.
I decided I didn't want your child growing up without a father.
Hey, the last time I swam this channel I was your age.
So I'm fucked either way. So come on.
Weapon is hot. I am standing by for the launch command.
Man, killing Navy SEALs is one thing...
- Is this for real? - Hey, it's business.
Access code entered. Weapon available for release.
Launch coordinates: six, seven,
five, four, five, niner.
The weapon is hot. I'm standing by for launch command.
That's affirmative.
Standing by for command.
I'm waiting for launch command, general.
- Fire. - Fire!
Missile loose! Missile loose!
[man] Origin: Alcatraz, 67253725.
- What's the goddamn heading? - Heading 185 degrees south southeast.
- Speed? - Three hundred knots.
It's headed right at Oakland.
Football game.
Oh, my God.
[man] Missile radically changing direction.
New direction: 275 degrees west. It's headed out to sea, sir.
Oh, Christ!
Missile losing altitude. Falling.
Falling, 300 feet, 200, 100.
Bogey detonated under water.
- What the fuck? - It missed.
- Well, that's great. - Extremely great.
But there's still one left.
[Darrow] What happened to the rocket? What happened to the coordinates?
What the fuck is going on? Sir! Major!
- Captain, step outside. - Talk to me, sir.
Captain, step outside!
[Ernest] Get me the Pentagon.
[clattering]
What the hell was that, Frank?
- I said, what the hell...? - I heard!
If you're gonna be insubordinate, do it with respect.
Cut the crap, general. What the hell are you doing?
- I'm not ready to kill. - Ask for time.
- No! - Do it, Frank!
- We're coming loose. - You're coming loose.
The rest of us are in complete control.
We're askin' 'em for a new deadline.
- Put the phone down. - The men are falling apart!
- The men are Marines! - Are they?
- I wanna talk to Kramer. - You're asked by a friend.
- Put him on the phone. - Ordered by a superior.
- This is Major Baxter! - Last chance by a man with a gun.
Put the phone down.
[turns off phone]
- I thought you weren't ready to kill. - I'm warmin' up.
At ease.
They need a decision, Mr. President.
[President] These past few hours
have been the longest, darkest of my life.
How does one weigh human life?
One million civilians against 81 hostages.
And in the middle, Frank Hummel.
That we have ignored, abandoned or marginalised
a great soldier like Frank Hummel,
and that American boys have paid for that neglect in blood
is equally real and equally tragic.
We are at war with terror.
Fighting a war means casualties.
This is the worst call I've ever had to make.
Air strike approved.
[man] Red Thunder to tower. Request clearance.
With the firepower they're gonna drop in there...
- Prepared to go. - ...it'll be over in seconds.
Flight time to drop point: 17 minutes.
Excuse me, general, sir, with all due respect to you,
- but what the fuck is going on? - You changed the coordinates?
- That's affirmative, captain. - The Feds think we're gutless?
- They think we won't do it. - They're gonna come at us
with everything, air and sea. Bomb us to the Stone Age.
- They don't know we missed on purpose. - Great.
We're not gutless, we're incompetent. That right?
I don't like your tone, captain. We planned for this contingency.
Load VX into choppers, take hostages, evacuate.
- The consequences I'll face alone. - Excuse me, general,
but what about the fucking money?
There is no fucking money. Mission's over.
- Bullshit it's over. - You're talking to a general, soldier!
- Maintain discipline. - I'm not a soldier, Major.
The day we took hostages we became mercenaries. And mercenaries get paid!
I want my fucking money!
This mission was based on the threat of force.
I'm not about to kill 80,000 innocent people.
You think I'm out of my fucking mind?
We bluffed. They called it. The mission's over.
Whoever said anything about bluffing?
Stand down, captain.
Stand down, captain!
Major, take these men to the choppers and evacuate.
- That's a simple order, Major! - It's not so simple, Frank.
Sergeant Crisp, secure the general.
I'm relieving you of your command, sir.
Sergeant!
- I'll have that sidearm. - You mean this sidearm?
[guns cock]
Major Baxter, you're either with us or against us.
It has been the greatest honour of my life to serve with you, general.
But like he said...
...it's over.
Let's get him.
Mason!
My God, what have I done?
Where's the last rocket? Where's the last rocket?
- Where's the last rocket? - Lower lighthouse.
- Go!
Darrow, go to the lighthouse! I'll take care of this fucker!
One, two, three! Eat that!
Did it.
Come here. Come here, you little chicken shit!
You shoot me, I drop this. We're both dead.
Come on. Don't be scared. I won't hurt ya.
- Come on. - Know how this shit works?
You know how this shit works?
Come on. Come on. I don't need the gun. I'll put it down.
Come on. Let's play. Come on. Come on.
Listen, I think we got started off on the wrong foot. Stan Goodspeed, FBI.
Let's talk music. Like the Elton John song Rocket Man?
- I don't like soft-ass shit. - Oh, you...
Well, I only bring it up because... it's you.
You're the Rocket Man.
[electronic beeping]
No!
- How do you like how that shit works? - Second rocket's away!
[screaming]
- Splashed into the bay. No detonation. - Shit!
Darrow!
Open up!
- Come on. - Open up!
Hey, you mother!
I'm gonna get you now, baby.
OK.
I got ya. I got you, baby.
Come on.
[screaming]
- [shouting, unintelligible] - [gunfire]
Red Thunder Strike Leader. Time on target: seven minutes.
English prick. I tell you my old man was Irish?
Maintain air speed 450 knots.
Fuck!
It's me and you, pal. I want that fucking chip!
I love pressure.
I know you're in here, and I know you can hear me.
Pay the piper and come out like a man.
[yelling]
Increase speed to 500 knots.
You motherfucker! Die!
I'm gonna choke my million bucks out of you. You're gonna die.
Eat that, you fuck!
[gagging]
Team, inbound. Time on target: 60 seconds.
Come to course heading 142 degrees.
When he neutralises the threat,
we launch green flares and we wait for the cavalry.
- Tighten up that formation. - May God have mercy on your souls.
Don't let this happen. There has to be something you can do.
Let's drop to the deck. One hundred feet below radar.
Target acquired. Rolling in.
- This is Red Thunder. Master armed. - [electronic beeping]
Master armed.
Time on target: 12 seconds.
TOT: ten seconds.
Stay tight, gentlemen.
- Green smoke. I got green smoke! - This is CQ One!
Green smoke! Green smoke! Over.
- Gimme that! Abort! - Abort!
- Flight leader, abort, abort! - Jesus...
I already dropped them!
No!
- Goddamn it! - Oh, my God!
Get out of my way. Let me through, please. Let me through!
The cells did not get hit. The bombs hit on the back of the island.
I'm fed up saving your ass. I'm amazed you ever got past puberty.
[John] I suppose all this will make a great bedtime story to tell your kid.
You're insane, Mason. The kid'll have nightmares.
Spend all my money on shrinks.
[Ernest] Goodspeed, come in.
Goodspeed, Goodspeed, do you read me? Come in!
- Scanning all radio frequencies. - Goodspeed, do you read me? Come in!
Goodspeed, do you read me? Come in!
This is Goodspeed.
- Are the hostages alive? - Every one of 'em.
[cheering]
Goodspeed, it's Womack.
What about Mason?
- He's dead, sir. - How? When?
Just come and get me.
Womack tore up your pardon, John.
But, of course. I knew he would.
The SDU's and the scuba gear should be where we came ashore.
If you get to the Pan Pacific Hotel, there's clothes in my closet,
$200 in the Bible. Room 26.
Well, it's been a long time since I've said thank you to anybody.
But thank you.
Well, Stanley, this is when we go our separate ways.
I'm sure you know the etymology of your name "Goodspeed".
Yeah, Godspeed: to wish someone a prosperous journey. Why?
Well, if you fancy a journey,
I recommend Fort Walton, Kansas.
I was thinking of Maui.
No.
Forget Maui.
"St. Michael's Church, Fort Walton, Kansas.
Front pew, right leg. Hollow."
Is this what I think it is?
Mason?
Congratulations, Dr. Goodspeed. You did it.
- Thank you, sir. - For a while there,
I didn't think you were gonna make it. Well done, son.
So where's Mason?
Vaporised. Blown out to sea.
Blown out to sea, huh?
Yeah.
Poor bastard.
Goodspeed, where's Mason? Where's his body? I wanna see that son of a bitch.
Vaporised, sir. Excuse me, gentlemen.
What?
Vaporised? A body can vaporise?
Oh, yeah! Absolutely, sir.
St. Michael's Church, front pew, right leg.
Front pew, right leg.
Vandals! Vandals!
Oh, yes, baby, come on!
- Stop! Vandals! Stop! - I'm sorry!
- Come on, baby! - I've got it! OK, let's go!
- Stop! Stop! - Sorry!
Stop! Hey, hey, you!
Vandals! Vandals!
Honey...
...you wanna know who really killed JFK?