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-You okay?
-Yeah, I'm fine, mate.

Don't worry about it.

You all right?

Enjoy LA.

-He did it.
-It's all right.

Can you tell me why everything
is always about you?

Everything is not always about me.

That gearhead with his pocket protector
was being sarcastic.

-You damn well know it.
-"Sarcastic."

-I'm sorry, I just didn't see it that way.
-Oh, that's bullshit.

What about the dig about the makeover?
That was really nice.

What do you want me to do?
I work with the man.

You're perfectly capable
of taking care of your own shit.

You know something? The last time
I checked, you were sleeping with me.

So unless you want to start
fucking him, I suggest...

Pal, where can I catch a shuttle
to the airport around here?

-Back there.
-Thanks.

It was him in that gold Lexus
on the cell phone.

Are they still asking
for a change of venue?

He's enhanceable because of priors
in the early '80s.

-Where to?
-Downtown. 312 North Spring Street.

Downtown.

Look, the transcriptions need to be done
by 7:00 a.m., period. Okay?

Hold on.
Take Sepulveda to Slauson to La Brea.

Take La Brea north to 6th into downtown.

So what? You'll be up late.

I'm pulling an all-nighter, too,
so save the tears.

I'll take the 105 east to the 110.
That's faster.

What?

I said, the 105 to the 110,
that'|| get you there quicker.

The 110 turns into a parking lot
around USC.

But once you get to La Brea north
of Santa Monica, then it's jammed.

The 110 north of the 10,

you get people driving to Pasadena,
and they drive slow.

Yeah, they do, but what I do is
I get off on Grand, and then I...

Hey, surface roads is what you want,
that's what we'll do.

-Are we taking bets?
-Are we?

But what if you're wrong?

I don't think I'm gonna be wrong,
but if I am, the ride's free.

Okay, you got yourself a deal.

Go ahead, say it.

-Say what?
-Go ahead.

-I got lucky with the lights.
-You weren't lucky with the lights.

What you were was right. I was wrong.

Max.

You mind turning that up?

You like the classics.

I do. I used to play in high school.

-Let me guess. Woodwinds.
-No. Strings.

I never had the lungs
for wind instruments.

Could've fooled me by the way
you were unloading on that cell phone.

Different instrument.

If you had just listened to me, we'd be
all bogged down in traffic right now.

You would've made yourself
an extra five bucks.

Well, you keep that five bucks.
Buy you something special. Go wild.

Really, it's not that... It's not
a big deal. Nothing big here.

Well, how many cabbies do you know

get you into an argument
to save you money?

There were two of us. I had to kill
the other one. I don't like competition.

Take pride in being good at what you do?

What, this?

This is-- No, this is part-time.

This is a fill-in job. Pay the bills.

But I will be the best at what I do.
But that's something else.

-What else?
-Just shaping up some things.

Like?

Tell me.

Limo company I'm putting together.
Island Limos.

It's gonna be like an island on wheels.
A cool groove, like a club experience.

When you get to the airport,
you're not gonna wanna get out of my limo.

So I do this part-time
to get my Benz off leases,

staff up, get the right client list,
you know, things like that.

How do you like being a lawyer?

-What are you, psychic?
-Little bit.

There's the dark pinstripe suit.

Elegant, not too flashy.
That rules out advertising.

Plus a top-drawer briefcase
that you live out of.

And the purse. A Bottega.

Anyway, a man gets in my cab
with a sword, I figure he's a sushi chef.

You'?

Clarence Darrow.

Well, no, not quite.

He worked defense. I'm a prosecutor.

-Big case?
-Yeah.

-Got us here fast.
-Of course.

But you didn't answer my question.

Do you like what you do?

Yeah.

But not today.

No, I do. Like, I can't wait.

I love standing in that courtroom.

At the same time,
I get this clenched-up thing

the night before the first days.

Clenched up? How?

I think I'm gonna lose,
I think the case sucks,

my exhibits aren't in order,
I'm not prepared enough,

people are gonna find out
that I don't know what I'm doing

and I've been running some charade
all these years.

I represent the Department of Justice,

and my opening statement is gonna
fall flat at the most important point,

and the jury's gonna laugh at me.

And then I cry. I don't throw up.

A lot of people throw up.
I have a strong stomach.

And then I pull myself together,

I rewrite my opening statement,
work my exhibits,

and that's what I do
for the rest of the night.

That's my routine.

In the morning, it starts, and I'm fine.

You need a vacation.

I just had a vacation
on the Harbor Freeway.

Not in a cab.
You need to get your head straight.

Get your unified self up.
Get harmonic, you know--

When was the last time you took a break?

-I go on a vacation all the time.
-How often?

A dozen times a day.

My favorite spot.

Maldives Island.

It's my own private getaway.

Things get heavy for me,
I take five minutes out,

and I just go there.

And I just concentrate
on absolutely nothing.

-Here. Take it.
-No. I couldn't do that.

Take it. Because you need it
a lot more than I do.

And it'll help you. I guarantee it.

Thanks, Max.

Go get 'em.

H9)'-

I don't know.

In case you ever wanna investigate
a Fortune 500 company or...

argue cab routes.

H9)'-

Hey, yeah. Come on, man, I'm sorry.

I didn't hear you, man. Come on.
I'll take you.

-Where to?
-1039 South Union Street.

Gotcha.

-How long you think this'|| take?
-Seven minutes.

Seven. Not eight? Not six?

Two minutes to get across
the 110 to Normandie.

Normandie to Venice, three minutes.

Over to Union is one.
Plus one for "shit happens."

-Okay if I time you?
-Knock yourself out.

What do I get if you're wrong?
A free ride?

You get an apology.
I already offered my free ride today.

-To who?
-Some girl.

Did you get a date with her?

-First time in LA?
-No.

Tell you the truth, whenever I'm here,
I can't wait to leave.

Too sprawled out, disconnected. You know.

-That's me. You like it?
-It's my home.

Seventeen million people.

This was a country, it'd be
the fifth biggest economy in the world,

and nobody knows each other.

I read about this guy,
gets on the MTA here, dies.

Six hours he's riding the subway

before anybody notices his corpse
doing laps around LA.

People on and off sitting next to him.

Nobody notices.

This is the cleanest cab
I've ever been in.

-Regular ride?
-Yeah. I share it with the day-shift guy.

-Because you prefer nights?
-Yeah. People are more relaxed.

Less stress, less traffic, better tips.

-How are the benefits?
-It's not that kind of job.

I'm not in this for the long haul.
I'm just filling in, you know.

Just temporary while I'm getting
some things shaped up.

This is just temporary.

-How long you been driving?
-Twelve years.

Really?

What other things you putting together?

I don't wanna talk about it.
Just a little business plan.

-No offense. I just...
-None taken.

You're one of these guys
that do instead of talk.

That's cool.

-Seven minutes. Man, you're good.
-I got lucky with the lights.

Yeah, sure. You probably know
the light schedules, too.

Listen, I'm in town on a real-estate deal.
Close in one night.

I got five stops to make.
Collect signatures, see some friends.

And then I got a 6:00 a.m. out of LAX.
Why don't you hang with me?

The car's not for hire, man.
That's against regs.

-Regulations?
-Yeah.

These guys don't pay you sick leave.
How much you pull down a shift?

-How much?
-350, 400.

Yeah? Well, let me tell you what.
I'll make it 600.

Man, I don't know.

Plus an extra hundred, you get me to LAX
and I don't have to run for the plane.

I don't know about this.

-I don't know.
-Yeah, you do.

-I don't know, man.
-Yeah, you do.

-Six hundred...
-Cool. We got a deal.

Here's 300 down. What's your name?

-Max.
-Max.

-I'm Vincent.
-All right.

I can't stay double-parked here, though.

I'll meet you in the alley
behind the building.

All right.

Definitely not from around here.

There you go.

Oh, no! Shit! Fuck!

What the--

What the hell? Damn it!

My man, you all right?

Shit. Fuck.

He fell on the cab.

He fell from up there
on the motherfucking cab.

-Shit. I think he's dead.
-Good guess.

You killed him?

No, I shot him.
Bullets and the fall killed him.

Oh, man. Fuck this, man.

-Red light, Max.
-Hold on. Hold on.

Put your hands down.

-Put your hands down.
-Okay. Okay.

Okay, help me out. Pop the trunk.

-What?
-Pop the trunk.

Come on, man. Come on. Come on.

-What you doing?
-I'm gonna roll him off the roof.

Can't leave him here.
So unless you want him up front with you.

But given the hygiene...

-Shit.
-Okay.

It's only a dead guy.

Grab his hands.

-I can't do this.
-Grab his wrists.

-You got it?
-Yeah. He's twitching and shit.

Fuck.

Okay. That's good enough.

-Let's go.
-Hey, why don't you just take the cab?

-Take the cab?
-Yeah, you take it.

I'll chill. I'll just chill.

They don't even know who's driving
these things half the time anyway.

They never check or anything.
Okay? So just take it.

You, me...

-You promise not to tell anybody, right?
-Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.

Promise.

Get in the fucking car.

Get in the car.

Ramone.

Ramone.

Ramona!

Ramona!

Fuck.

Rampart watch commander.

This is Detective Fanning, Narcotics.

Send two black-and-whites and
a night detective to 1039 South Union.

And contact SID. I got a crime scene.

Roger. 1039 South Union.

-What are you doing?
-I got to clean it up. It's a mess.

So? Lady Macbeth, we're sitting here,
and the light's green.

Leave the seats.

Asshole!

You no longer have
the cleanest cab in la-la land.

You gotta live with that.
You focus on the job. Drive.

7565 Fountain. You know it?

-West Hollywood.
-How long you figure?

I don't know, man, 17 minutes.

Why?

No, no, no. Hold on, man.

-I told you we had other stops to make.
-You said you had to visit some friends.

-Well, they're somebody's friends.
-No.

You drive a cab, I make my rounds...

you might make it through the night,
come out 700 bucks ahead.

I'm not trying to piss you off,
but I can't do this.

I can't drive you around
while you go around killing people.

-It ain't my job.
-Tonight it is.

Look, you don't get it.
I mean it. I mean it.

I'm not up for this.

-Okay, you're stressed.
-Yes, I am.

You're stressed. I understand that.

Now, you just keep breathing
and stay calm.

-Are you breathing?
-Shit.

-Are you breathing?
-Yes.

Okay, good.

Okay, look, here's the deal.

You were gonna drive me around tonight
and never be the wiser,

but e/gordo got in front of a window,
did his high dive.

We're into plan B. You still breathing?

We gotta make the best of it.
improvise. Adapt to the environment.

Darwin. Shit happens. lCh/ng.
Whatever, man. We gotta roll with it.

LCh/ng. What are you talking about, man?
You threw a man out of a window.

I didn't throw him. He fell.

Well, what did he do to you?

-What?
-What did he do to you?

Nothing. I only met him tonight.

You just met him once,
and you kill him like that?

What, I should only kill people
after I get to know them?

No, man.

Max, six billion people on the planet,

you're getting bent out of shape
because of one fat guy.

-Well, who was he?
-What do you care?

-Have you ever heard of Rwanda?
-Yes, I know Rwanda.

Tens of thousands killed before sundown.

Nobody's killed people that fast
since Nagasaki and Hiroshima.

-Did you bat an eye, Max?
-What?

Did you join Amnesty International, Oxfam,

Save the Whales,
Greenpeace or something? No.

I off one fat Angeleno,
and you throw a hissy fit.

Man, I don't know any Rwandans.

You don't know the guy
in the trunk either.

Man.

Okay, if it makes you feel any better,
he was a criminal

involved in a continuing
criminal enterprise.

What are you doing,
just taking out the garbage?

Yeah. Something like that.

- Pull over I0 the right.
-Shit.

-Get rid of them.
-How?

You're a cabbie.
Talk yourself out of a ticket.

Just, please, man, don't do anything.

Then don't let me get cornered.
You don't have the trunk space.

-I can't believe this.
-Believe it.

Don't. I'll talk to them.

He's probably married.

The other one has kids.
Probably his wife's pregnant.

Yeah, I'll take care of it. I got it.
I'll deal with it. Yeah. Just a second.

-How you doing?
-Hey.

My partner's gonna help you out
on that side over there.

License, registration.

Yeah.

I'm pulling you over
because your Windshields smashed.

-All this current?
-Yes, Officer.

Hey, man, what'd you do,
have a food fight in here?

Yeah, |'||-- Pretty messy.
Just clean it up.

Hey, is this blood up here
on your windshield?

Yeah.

Yeah, I hit a deer.

-You hit a deer?
-Yeah, over on...

-I was on Slauson.
-A South Central deer?

Yeah, they out there.

It ran right in front of the car
and I couldn't avoid it.

Why you still carrying a passenger?

I was on my way to the depot and he's--

I could just drop him.
His drop is on my way.

Yeah, but your cab's unsafe to drive
and we have to impound it.

So we gotta do a vehicle inventory
before the tow truck gets here.

So pop the trunk and step out the vehicle.

Sir, I'm sorry, but you're gonna
have to call another cab.

Is that really necessary, Officer?
I'm just a half a mile from here.

Yes, sir, I'm afraid it is.
Please, step out the vehicle.

-You, too. Come on.
-If you open that trunk, they go inside.

You know what, man?
It's been a long night.

Plus, the barn is right up there.

Just give me a break. It's my first fare.

Get out the cab. Open the trunk. Come on.

Step out. You, too, sir. Please.

This is Rampart Division dispatch.
Shots fired at 83rd and Hoover.

All available Precinct 26 units respond.
Over.

-Hey, partner, we gotta roll.
-Roger. En route.

Go straight to the garage.
Have a nice night, sir.

Stop here.

-Hands on the wheel, 10 and 2.
-Why?

Because I say so.

-Max. Max.
-Shit.

You out there, you son of a bitch?

Who is that?

That's Lenny. Just dispatch.

Max, I know you're out there.
Answer the goddamn call.

-What happens if you don't?
-He just keeps calling me.

Max, answer.

Don't blow it.

-Yeah, Lenny, what's up? It's me.
- Just got ofi' the phone with the cops.

Desk sergeant called to check
you brought the cab in.

-Yeah, so'?
-So aside from I hate talking to cops,

they tell me you crashed the goddamn cab?

No. No, I got crashed into. I didn't...

Do I care what, where or why?
You're paying.

It was an accident. You're not liable.

It was an accident. I'm not liable.

Bullshit. I'm making you liable.
It's coming out of your goddamn pocket.

You tell him to stick this cab
up his fat ass.

-I can't do that. That's my boss.
-So?

-I need my job.
-No, you don't.

You still there? I'm talking to you.
Max! Max!

-He's not paying you a damn thing.
-Who the hell is this?

Albert Riccardo, Assistant US Attorney,

a passenger in this cab,
and I'm reporting you to the DMV.

-I efs not' get excited
-Not get excited?

How am I supposed to not get excited,

listening to you
try to extort a working man?

You know goddamn well
your collision policy

and general-liability umbrella
will cover the damages.

What are you trying to pull,
you sarcastic prick?

-I was jusz' frying to-
-Tell it to him.

Tell him he's an asshole. Go ahead.

You're an asshole.

Tell him he pulls this shit again,

you're gonna stick this yellow cab
up his fat ass.

And next time you pull any shit, I'm--

I'm gonna have to stick this yellow cab
up your fat ass.

Shit!

Things like protective orders,
because you think of domestic stalking

where a husband wants his wife back
or boyfriend-girlfriend kind of thing.

We always hear,
"Get your protective order."

Well, a protective order's
a too! that we use,

but often times it's just
a piece of paper to the stalker.

Yeah.

Mr. Clarke,
there's a notary here to see you.

Well, did he identify himself as a notary?

Yes, he did.

All right, sure, send him up.

Hey! Hey, I'm in the cab!

Hey!

Shit. Down here in the-- in the alley!

Shit!

Hey, hold up.

Oh, man, yeah. Hey, yeah, right there.

I'm in the cab, man. I'm stuck.
Thank you. Thank you.

Hey, man. Look, I gotta get out of here.

-What's up, man? What's going on?
-Look, this guy tied me up.

He's up in this building,
wreaking havoc, doing some wild shit.

-I need to get out of here.
-You all tied up in there, huh?

Yeah, I'm trapped. Get me outta here
so we can call the cops.

Why don't you give me your fucking wallet?

-Are you kidding me?
-Do I look like I'm kidding you?

Listen, don't you see that my hands
are tied to the steering wheel?

I don't give a damn what they're tied to.
I'll fuck you up.

-Don't shoot, man.
-Then get your ass up.

-Fuck.

What the fuck else you got in here?
Jackpot

Thanks, for real.

Yo, homey.

That my briefcase?

This your briefcase? Yeah, it is.
Why, you want it back?

How about your wallet?

What else you got for me?

Fuck!

Where's the button? Under the dash?

Mind getting it?

You attract attention, you're gonna get
people killed who didn't need to be.

You understand?

-Yeah.
-Yeah?

But, hey, new news.
We're ahead of schedule.

-You like jazz?
-I'm sorry. What?

-Jazz. You like jazz?
-Not that much.

Guy told me about this place off Crenshaw.

Leimert Park.
All the West Coast greats played there.

Dexter Gordon, Charlie Mingus,
Chet Baker. Like that.

Come on, finish up. Buy you a drink.

This informant of yours,
what's his name? Ramone?

Ramone Ayala. Supposed to meet him
in Bellflower last night.

He doesn't show up,
I roll here, find this.

Yeah, how long you been working this guy?

Four months. He's a low-level player.

Part of a distribution network
that hooks up to Felix.

Felix Reyes-Torrena?

Feds are all over him.
They don't want us anywhere near it.

Since when's LAPD working for the Feeb?

If they're into it,
they're just gonna take all our stuff,

build their case, take all the credit.
So what is the point?

The point is, is my guy flew out a window.

So if my Cl flies out a window,

then he's got Felix's handprints
on his ass.

That makes it mine.

Is there a crime here? A homicide?
You got a body?

-I just see a bunch of broken glass.
-And blood.

Down here, in the glass. Here's some more.

And there's some spatter patterns
over there and over here.

-Richard?
-Yeah, it's me.

Ramone went through that window, splat.

Glass here. Then tires rolled over it.

-Maybe he jumped.
-Sure.

He's depressed, so he jumps four stories
out of a window onto his head.

"Wow, that feels better."
Picks himself up.

"Now I think I'll go on
with the rest of my day."

-Come on, man.
-Hey, Ray! Catch.

-Recent?
-You can still smell the cordite.

Old guy across the alley
watching late-night TV

says he saw a cab parked here
earlier tonight

with two guys walking around the hood.

Description? He see anything?

Kind of saw.
Guy's got glasses like Coke bottles.

There are 4,000 taxicabs in LA County.

-You got anything else?
-That's it.

Okay. Keep knocking. Let's keep knocking.

Remember that Bay Area deal? Oakland?

Cabbie drove around all night,
killed three people,

-then put the gun to his head.
-Yeah, the guy flipped out. So what?

So that Oakland PD detective,
what's-his-name, he never bought it.

Cabbie had no criminal record,
no history of mental illness.

Pops three people, then himself?

Anyway, that detective always thought
there was someone else in that cab.

I never learned to listen to jazz.

It's off melody. Behind the notes.
Not what's expected.

-Improvising, like tonight.
-Like tonight?

Most people, ten years from now,

same job, same place, same routine,
everything the same.

Just keeping it safe
over and over and over.

Ten years from now.

Man, you don't know where you'll be
ten minutes from now.

Do you?

-Who is that on the trumpet?
-That's Daniel, baby. He's the owner.

He's terrific. Would you be so kind
as to invite him over after his set?

-I gotta buy him a drink.
-Sure thing, darling.

No, now, see, I was about 19,
bussing tables right here.

The money wasn't shit,
but that wasn't the point.

It was about being around the music.
And I was.

I mean, take this one night.

July 22nd, 1964.
Who you think walks through that door?

Bye, baby.

Miles Davis. That's right.

-In the flesh?
-That's right.

I'm talking about through those doors,
the coolest man on the planet.

Jesus.

Anyway, he had been at a recording session
up at Columbia, up on Vine.

So Miles comes through that door.

Before you know it, he's up on
the bandstand, jamming with the band.

-It had to be--
-It was scary.

I mean, the dude was so focused, man.

Plus, he was kind of
a scary cat anyway, man.

Everybody and their mama knew

that you don't just come up
and talk to Miles Davis.

I mean, he may have looked like
he was chilling, but he was absorbed.

This one young, hip couple, one of them
tried to shake his hand one day.

And the guy says, "Hi, my name is--"

Miles said, "Get the fuck out of my face,
you jive motherfucker.

Take your silly bitch with you."

You know? That's-- That was Miles, man.

That's the way he was when he was
in his musical headspace. Fierce.

But did you get to talk to him?

-Better than that.
-No.

-I played for about 20 minutes.
-Unbelievable.

-How'd you do?
-How'd I do?

Well, you really ain't shit when
you're playing next to Miles Davis.

But he carried my ass.

-What'd he say?
-He said one word. "Cool."

-"Cool"?
-Yeah.

-That's it?
-Yeah.

That meant, "Good, but not ready."

It meant, "Look me up when you are."

-Did you?

I got drafted
and got into some other things,

and by the time I got back to music,
the season had passed.

But, you know, I was born in 1945,

but that night was
the moment of my conception.

-Right here in this room.
-Crowd's not here now.

Well, jazz ain't the draw
that it used to be.

What a great story.

I gotta tell the people in Culiacén
and Cartagena that story.

You know the folks in Culiacén
and Cartagena?

Afraid so.

Man, just when I thought
you were a cool guy.

I am a cool guy,
with a job I contracted to do.

Come on, Vincent, give the dude a pass.

-I'm working here.
-You the one talking about improvisation.

You like the guy, you like how he plays.
Let's just play a little jazz. Come on.

Improvi...

That's funny, coming from you.

How's this? I'll ask a question.

-What question?
-A jazz question.

Now, you get it right, we roll.

You disappear tonight.

If I walk out of here tonight,

I will go so far away,
it'll be just like I was dead.

And one more thing.

These people and their rep here, Felix,

well, you tell them I'm sorry.

You tell them I had to.
They laid a grant of immunity on me.

I was compelled.
It was either play ball or go back inside.

And I'm not going back inside.

Yeah.

Lay it on me.

Where did Miles learn music?

I know everything
there is to know about Miles.

Then let's have it.

Music school.
He got into music school, right?

His father was a dentist, East St. Louis.

Invested in agriculture,
made plenty of money.

He sent Miles
to Juilliard School of Music,

New York, 1945.

Man.

Dropped out of Juilliard
after less than a year.

Tracked down Charlie Parker
on 52nd Street,

who mentored him for the next three years.

-Hey.
-No.

-No, I'm done. Find you another cab.
-Max.

Leave me alone. I'm collateral anyway.

I am not playing.

You played him, man.

If he got the answer right,
would you have let him go?

This is 102. This is 102. Max?

-What is it with this guy?
-Max?

-You hassling my driver again?
-Who are you?

The same guy you talked to last time.

Max's mother's driving me crazy.
Put him on the line, please.

Hang on.

Carefully.

-Yea h.
- Your mother's calling e very 70 minutes.

"Why didn't he show?"
"Are you all right?" "Where are you?"

Show for what?

Tell her I can't make it tonight.

I'm not related to you.
You tell her yourself.

Show up for what?

She's in the hospital.

-You visit every night?
-Yeah. What difference does it make?

-You don't show up, it breaks routine.
-So?

So people start looking for you, this cab.
That's not good.

I'm not taking you to see my mother.

Since when was any of this negotiable?

Two paces ahead, one to the left.

Hey. Flowers?

It's a waste of money.
Won't mean a thing to her.

She carried you in her womb
for nine months.

People buy flowers. Buy flowers.

Excuse me. Keep the change.

Hold that elevator, please.

-Floor?
-Five. Thanks.

-Having a good night?
- Mezzo mezzo. You?

Excuse me.

Hey, Ma.

-I've been calling and calling.
-Yeah, well, I got caught up at work.

Why couldn't you call me on the telephone?

I'm lying here wondering
if something terrible happened to you.

I brought you flowers.

-What am I gonna do with flowers?
-Cheer up.

How?

By worrying that you spend money
on stuff that's just gonna wilt and die?

See what I mean?

I didn't buy you the flowers, Mom. He did.

Who?

Why didn't you tell me we had company?

What's your name? Sorry. My son is rude.

No harm done, ma'am.

You paid for my flowers?

They're beautiful.

Well, Max?

Mother, this is Vincent.
Vincent, this is my mother, Ida.

I'm very happy to meet you, Mrs. Durocher.

Oh, just call me Ida.

Ida. I was with Max when he got the call.

And you came all the way
over here to see me?

-It's nothing, ma'am.
-Tell my son.

You have to hold a gun to his head
to make him do anything.

You must be one of Max's
important clients.

Client? You know, I like
to think of myself as his friend.

Max never had many friends.

Always talking to himself in the mirror.
It's unhealthy.

Mom, how many times I got to ask you?
Please don't do that.

Do what?

Don't talk about me like
I'm not right here in the room here.

What's he saying?

He says he's standing right here,
in the room here.

Yes, you are.

-He's sensitive.
-I know.

-But I'm sure you're very proud of him.
-Of course I'm proud.

He started with nothing, you know.

-Look at him today. Here, Vegas...
-Mom. Mom.

Mom. Mom, he is not interested
in hearing about all that, okay?

I came to see you. I saw you.
You look good. Let's go.

No, no, no. No, no, no.
I am very interested, Ida. Please.

-Limousine companies.
-Is that right?

He drives famous people around.

Famous people. Limousine companies.
Now, that's quite an achievement.

What did you say your name was again?

My name is Vincent, ma'am.

-Visit again?
-No, I'm just in town tonight.

-When you come back.
-Sure.

Max!

Don't!

All of my prep was in there.
You are screwing with my work.

Let's see what else you can do.

Well, I've had four come in tonight.
Maybe one's your guy.

No, not Ramone. Let's see this one.

No, next.

Okay, you know, something's funny
about this, though, you know.

These three all came in within
half an hour of each other, right?

The kid and that last guy,
both done by the same shooter, I think.

-Why do you say that?
-Wound pattern.

Two in the sternum, one in the head.

This guy, he's shooting tight groups too.
All right? Check this out.

Double taps a couple millimeters apart.

Let's see this one.

See what I mean?

-Holy shit. Can I use your phone?
-Yeah.

Come on, come on, wake up.

-Hello.
-Hey, it's Fanning.

I'm still down here at the morgue
at Sisters of Charity.

Those John Does didn't pan out,

but you're never gonna guess
who I got here in the meat locker.

-Who?
-Sylvester Clarke.

Criminal attorney turned lawyer-criminal.

Including Ramone, who he represented,
who's still missing.

The both of whom are in
the exotic-substances business together.

There's something going on,
and I don't think the feds know about it.

Tell you what. Stay on your cell phone.
I got the ASAC's phone.

I'll hook up with you in 30 minutes.

Good.

You're gonna go to a place
called El Rodeo.

It's on Washington Boulevard
in Pico Rivera.

-Where at on Washington?
-Look it up.

Limos, huh?

Don't start.

I'm not the one lying to my mother.

She hears what she wants to hear.
I don't disillusion her.

Yeah, right.
Maybe she hears what you tell her.

Whatever I tell her
is never good enough anyway.

It's always been that way.

-So what's at El Rodeo?
-Just drive.

They project onto you their flaws.

What they don't like about themselves,
their lives, whatever.

They rank on you instead.

-How do you know?
-I had a father like that.

Mothers are worse.

Wouldn't know.
My mother died before I remember.

What happened to your father?

Hated everything I did.

Got drunk, beat me up. Foster homes.
Went back with him. Like that.

Then what?

I killed him.

I was 12.

I'm kidding.

He died of liver disease.

-Well, I'm sorry.
-No, you're not.

What is this, driving a cab temporarily?
It's just all bullshit, huh?

It is not bullshit.

Twelve years isn't temporary, Max.

Gotta get the cash together.
Insurance, bonds, maintenance, tires.

Gotta staff up, get the right client list.

It's not just simply get the car
and put asses in the seats.

Why not?

Because Island Limos
is more than just a ride.

It's like a club experience. Cool groove.

Don't want it to end.
It's gotta be perfect.

Uh-huh.

Perfect.

It's up here. Turn right.

-Give me your wallet. Come on.
-Give you my wallet. For what?

I'll hold it for you in case
the people inside search you.

-Who's searching?
-The people inside.

Go in, ask for Felix. He's expecting you.

-Felix.
-Yeah.

-What does he look like?
-I don't know. I've never met him.

Who is he?

He's connected to the guys who hired me.

-I don't get it.
-You destroyed my workups.

Number four's due.
What'd you think, night's over?

Called on account of rain?

You go in there, say you're me.
Score the backups.

-They'll be on flash drive or CD.
-Me?

-How come you don't go?
-I don't meet people.

Risk management. Anonymity.
I protect mine.

You're not gonna screw that up.

I got a contract with their bosses.
These guys don't get to meet me.

They don't know what I look like.

If I don't pull it off, then--

They will kill you.
Now, you got 10 minutes.

At 10:01, I drive to the hospital

and execute your mother
on my way out of town.

-And don't pretend indifference.
-I can't do this.

-I can't.
-What are you talking about?

Sure you can, man. Come on. Hey. Hey.

Look, man, if I do this, I'm just gonna
end up getting other people killed.

Out of options, Max.

Just take comfort in knowing
you never had a choice.

-How long you been doing this?
-Why?

Just in case they ask me.

-Private sector, six years.
-Okay. All right, six years.

You get benefits?
Or, you know, like, insurance? Pension?

No. No paid sick leave. Quit stalling.
Get out of the cab.

-Yeah? Hold up.
-Hold on, man.

Who is this?

Mark the time.

All right, it's cool.

-What's up, homes?
-Hey. What's up?

I'm here to see Felix.
He has something for me.

Don't know no Felix.

Tell him...

Say it's Vincent.

I'm Vincent.

COPY-

Let him in. Let him in right now.
Go ahead.

Detective Richard Weidner, LAPD,
Major Narcotics Division.

-Detective Ray Fanning, LAPD--
-Yeah. Hi. Okay. How are you?

Agent Frank Pedrosa.

-Good. Thanks for seeing us.
-You're welcome.

How can I help? What's up?
Why do you wanna know about our case?

-Any unusual activity tonight?
-Like what?

That relates to a murder
or a series of murders

in Wilshire Central or West Hollywood?

All quiet on the western front.

Various people are asleep.
Various people are not.

They come and go in cars, pickups, taxis.

Other than that, we watch air move.

-Your interest in our case?
-Well, our interest--

We got a situation. Two bodies.

Could be a coincidence,
could not be a coincidence.

It doesn't look like one.
We got an attorney and his client--

Roofs all beat to shit.

Roofs all beat to shit.

-Can you zoom in on this, please?
-On what?

On that.

-Look at that right there.
-What is it?

Yeah. 5-Queen-49974.

5Q49974.

I thought you'd be taller.

So, Vincent.

-What are the two names?
-Ramone Ayala and Clarke.

Are you telling me Ramone Ayala
and Clarke were murdered tonight?

-Both killed?
-Sylvester Clarke for sure.

-Ramone, I don't know.
-I got another DOA.

Daniel Baker out of South Central,
Leimert Park.

That's three.

-Three what?
-Witnesses.

Vincent meet their people

in Culiacén or Cartagena.

But he don't meet you. Okay.

Now you're here.

Why?

I lost my stuff.

The list.

I want you to listen to me real well.

Special groups put together
the list of dedos.

-Ded0s?
-Fingers. informants.

Signal interceptions with
voice-recognition software, surveillance.

A very expensive counterintelligence
worked up that list.

An important list. Wouldn't you say?

And you lost it?

Yeah.

I'm sorry.

Sorry.

Ilsorry"?

"Sorry" does not put
Humpty Dumpty back together again.

-Do you believe in Humpty Dumpty?
-No.

-Do you believe in Santa Claus?
-No.

Nor do I.

Nor do I, but my children do.
They are still small.

But do you know who they like even
better than Santa Claus? His helper.

Pedro e| Negro. Black Peter. Yeah.

There's an old Mexican tale...

that tells of how Santa Claus got so very
busy looking out for the good children

that he had to hire some help
to look out for the bad children.

So he hired Pedro.

And Santa Claus gave him a list

with all the names
of all the bad children.

And Pedro would come every night
to check them out.

And the people, the little kids
that were misbehaving,

that were not saying their prayers,

Pedro would leave a little toy donkey
on their windows.

A little burro.

And he would come back.

And if the children
were still misbehaving,

Pedro would take them away
and nobody would ever see them again.

Now, if I am being Santa Claus,
and you are Pedro,

how do you think
jolly old Santa Claus would feel

if one day Pedro came into his office
and said, "| lost the list"?

How fucking furious
do you think he would get?

Tell me, Vincent.

Tell me what you think.

What?

I think...

I think you should
tell the guy behind me...

to put that gun down.

What did you say?

I said, I think you should tell the guy
behind me to put his gun away

before I take it
and beat his bitch ass to death with it.

I picked up a tail.

-Federal?
-I don't know. You tell me.

That's why I tossed the list.

The workups, all of that shit.

To protect, in part, your...

Hermés, Fagonnable ass.

What, you think I like coming in here?

But, hey, shit happens.

Gotta roll with it. Adapt.

Darwin. I Ch/'ng.

Has--

The fat man. The penthouse guy.
The jazz man.

That leaves two.

Can you finish?

In six years...

when have I not?

Say it's Vincent.

I'm Vincent.

Say it's Vincent.

I'm Vincent.

Say it's Vincent.

I'm Vincent.

-$a y it is Vincent.
-Vincent?

-That's what I'm hearing.
-I'm Vincent.

Your last two.

And by the way,
as a token of my appreciation,

I would like to offer you a discount.

For all my services, 25%.

-Very generous.
-Hell, make it 35.

And, by the way...

Daniel said he was sorry.

Interesting.

E-mail me his license.

-Right.
-To my cell phone.

No, no, I'll wait.

Hey, is there anybody else in that cab?

Vegas odds would've been
against you walking out of there.

Yeah, very impressive.

6th Street by Alexandria.
A club called Fever. Know it?

Locate our witness, Peter Lim.
Get him evacuated, get him safe.

-LA 101 to chase units.
-Yeah.

African-American, medium build.

The assault team will do the takedown.

-Are you sure?
-Do not spook him before.

I want air support up
and to maintain at 1,500 feet.

Thank you.

-How long?
-Twelve minutes.

According to
the cab company's dispatch unit,

this guy's been driving that cab
for 12 years.

So what?

So you're telling me the guy
walks into a phone booth and, shazam,

changes into a meat-eater super-assassin?

What's he do,
squeeze them in between fares?

No, the real cabdriver
is floating down a storm drain.

The guy who walked out of there
looks like this guy.

'Cause he picked a cabdriver
who looks like him.

-Yeah, I don't know.
-I do. Zee?

We see private-sector security companies
hiring out to cartels

in Colombia, Russia, Mexico,

hiring ex-Special Forces, Stasi,
ex-KGB, like that, all the time.

Guys with trigger time, skill sets, real
tradecraft, like, look like a cabdriver.

What are you gonna do?

Take his ass down. Save our witness.

What if these guys are wrong?

They got the guy admitting
his name is Vincent.

-He's in there talking to the bad guys.
-There is something else going on.

Ray, there's nothing else going on.
I thought there was. There isn't.

It's their ball. It's their game.
There's nothing in it for us.

-There's nothing in it for you.
-That's right.

It's late. I'm going home.
You know what time it is?

They locate Peter Lim yet?

Sheila's on with the wife.
She thinks he's at Fever.

6th and Alexandria. Move it.

LA 101 to LA 103, LA 105, LA 108.

Witness is in a club called Fever,
6th and Alexandria.

That's where Vincent is going.

Assault team and remaining units,
you will take Vincent.

First unit on the scene will get
the witness, Peter Lim. Get him out.

LA 105 to LA 101. Copy that.

-You gonna call her?
-Who?

Your lady friend,
the one who gave you her business card.

I don't know.

-Maybe, maybe not.
-What?

Pick up the phone.

Life's short. One day, it's gone.

You and I make it out of this alive,
you should call her.

That's what I think.

Anyway...

There he is. Hit it.

Let's do it.

Table towards the back is where he hangs.

Wilke, take the right.
Brian, hold the door.

Clean shots. Watch your backs.
Watch your backs.

LAPD.

Go 15 feet ahead, three feet to the left.

Wander, innocent bystanders
get the first rounds. Clear?

There's Lim. Second booth from the left.
Get him out of here.

Middle of the dance floor.
Freeze, Vincent!

FBI! FBI! Get your hands in the air!
Get your hands in the air, Vincent!

-Freeze! Get your hands up!
-FBI. Where's Peter Lim?

FBI! Get your hands in the air!

Drop it!

-Freeze!
-Freeze! FBI!

-I'm not Vincent.
-FBI!

Put the gun down! You got the wrong--

Pedrosa's been shot. Get an RA unit.

No! Wait, wait!

Hold on. Hold on. I'm Detective Fanning.

I'm Max! I'm Max!

I'm a goddamn cabdriver, man!

I know. I'm getting you out of here.
I'm LAPD. Come on.

-How'd you find me?
-You're okay.

Just move it. Keep moving.

You're okay.

-How'd you find me?
-You're okay. You're okay.

You're okay. You're all right.

Let's go!

Let's go.

Go! Drive! Drive!

Only thing that didn't show up
is the Polish cavalry.

You're alive.

I saved you.

Do I get any thanks? No.
All you can do is clam up.

You wanna talk? Want me to fuck off?

Fuck off.

-You had to kill Fanning?
-Who the fuck is Fanning?

Fanning. The cop.

Why'd you have to kill him?

He's probably got family.
Kids gonna grow up without him.

He believed me.

I should've saved him
because he believed you.

-Not that.
-Yeah. That.

Well, yeah, that. What's wrong with that?

-It's what I do for a living.
-Some living.

-Head downtown.
-What's downtown?

How are you at math?
I was hired for five hits. I did four.

Why not just kill me
and get another cabdriver?

Because you're good.
We're in this together.

Fates intertwined.
Cosmic coincidence. You know.

-You full of shit.
-A|| that crap. I'm full of shit?

You're a monument of it.
You even bullshitted yourself.

"A|| I am is taking out the garbage,
killing bad people."

-Well, that's what you said.
-You believed me?

-Then what'd they do?
-How do I know? You know?

They all got that...

"witness for the prosecution" look to me.

Probably some major
federal indictment of somebody

who majorly does not wanna get indicted.

So that's the reason?

That's the why. There's no reason.

There's no good reason,
there's no bad reason to live or to die.

Then what are you?

Indifferent.

Get With it.

Millions of galaxies
of hundreds of millions of stars

and a speck on one in a blink.

That's us. Lost in space.

The cop, you, me-- who notices?

What's with you?

As in?

As in, if somebody had a gun
to your head and said,

"You gotta tell me what's going on
with this person over here

or I'm gonna kill you.

What is driving him?
What was he thinking?"

You couldn't do it, could you? Because...

They would have to kill your ass,

because you don't know
what anyone else is thinking.

I think you're low, my brother. Way low.

Like, what were you? One of those
institutionalized-raised guys?

Anybody home?

And-- And the standard parts

that are supposed to be there
in people, in you, aren't.

And why haven't you killed me yet?

Of all the cabbies in LA, I get Max--
Sigmund Freud meets Dr. Ruth.

Answer the question.

Look in the mirror.

Paper towels, clean cab,
limo company someday.

-How much you got saved?
-That ain't none of your business.

Someday? "Someday my dream will come"?

One night you'll wake up,
and you'll discover it never happened.

It's all turned around on you.

It never will. Suddenly you are old.

Didn't happen.

And it never will, because you
were never gonna do it anyway.

You'll push it into memory,
then zone out in your Barcalounger,

being hypnotized by daytime TV
for the rest of your life.

Don't you talk to me about murder.

All it ever took was a down payment
on a Lincoln Town Car.

Or that girl.
You can't even call that girl.

What the fuck are you still doing
driving a cab?

Because I never straightened up
and looked at it, you know?

Myself. I should have.

I've tried to gamble my way
out from under,

but that was just a born-to-lose deal.

-Slow down.
-It's gotta be perfect.

It's got to be perfect to go.
Risk all torqued down.

I could've done it anytime I wanted to.

Red light.

But you know what? New news.

It doesn't matter anyway.
What does it matter anyway?

We're all insignificant out here
in this big-ass nowhere.

Twilight Zone Sh“.

Says the badass sociopath in my back seat.

But you know what? That's the one thing
I gotta thank you for, bro.

Because until now,
I never looked at it that way.

What does it matter?
It don't, so fuck it. Fix it.

What do we got to lose anyway, right?

-Slow down.
-Why? You gonna shoot me?

You gonna pull the trigger and kill us?

-Go ahead, shoot my ass.
-Slow the hell down.

You gonna shoot me? You gonna
shoot me now? You gonna kill us?

Well, shoot my ass, then. Shoot me.

-Slow down!
-You're right.

You know what, Vincent?

Go fuck yourself.

-Well, that was brilliant.
-Didn't have your seat belt on?

1-L-20, show me code 6
at Olympic and Figueroa

on the TC with injuries.

-Cop y your location.
-Sir, are you okay? What happened?

Sir, you were involved in an accident.

An ambulance is on its way to help you.

You understand what I'm saying to you?
Sit down and relax, okay?

Okay. Don't worry about the cab.
They'll get you a new one.

Relax and breathe.

Put your hands up.

Put your hands up. Face the cab.
Get down on your knees.

-Go ahead and arrest me.
-Put your hands on top of your head.

-Take me to jail. LA County jail's great.
-Don't move!

Put your hands behind your head.

1-L-20, I need a backup on a 187 suspect.

-Put your gun down!
-Get back! Put your hands down!

-Look, I gotta go.
-Put down the gun!

Stop moving! Stop moving!

When did this become a negotiation?

Clap your hands together.
Hold your hands together.

Listen, somebody's gonna get killed
if I don't go right now.

Cuff yourself.

I'm going to 6th and Fig. Call the cops.

Give me that.

Hey, hey-- Fuck!

Come on!

Come on. Go through.

Come on. Come on. Pick up.

Pick up.

Come on, girl.

Come on, pick up.

US Attorney's Office.

-Annie!
- Yes.

It's Max. Max, the cabdriver.
Listen to me, all right?

-A guy named Vincent--
-Max.

Listen to me, Annie.

-It's a strange time to be calling.
- Listen- Listen, Annie.

There's a man named Vincent.
He's coming to kill you.

-He's what?
-Kill you! He's coming to kill you!

He was scoping out the building
when I dropped you off--

Okay, Max, if this is supposed to be
some type of joke, it's not funny.

It's not a joke.
Annie, listen to me, please.

Felix hired him. Okay?
Or people that Felix worked for.

Felix Reyes-Torrena.
How do you know about my case?

I don't understand what's going on.

All I know is that he's already killed
witnesses. He's coming to kill you.

When I dropped you off, I don't know how,
but he ended up in my cab.

Annie.

Listen. AI! I want you to do...

-I don't understand whalis going on.
-Annie, listen.

-Max.
-Please listen.

Get out of the building. Annie.

- Okay, I'm leaving the building night' now.
-No, wait.

-Max.
- Wail', wail'.

—Max.
- Where are you light' now? What' floor?

I'm on the 16th floor
in the law library and files.

-He's two floors below you, corner office.
-In my office?

Listen, he does not know you're up there.
Just stay right there and call 911.

Are you sure he's on the 14th floor?

Listen, just stay there
and just call the police.

-Max?
- Annie...

Shit.

Max?

Shit.

-Max.
-He knows you're up there. Just...

I can't hear you. Hello?

Annie. Annie, listen to me.

Shit.

Annie. Annie!

Shit.

911. Operator.

Yes. Listen, there is a man
in my building, and he is--

Hello?

Let her go.

Max?

Why? What are you gonna do about it?

Come on.

Max!

Oh, God. Felix Reyes-Torrena?

Yeah. I met him.

What do you mean, you met him? How?

I don't know. Look, when
I dropped you off, there was a fare.

-He said his name is Vincent.
-Vincent?

-Wait, wait, wait, wait.
-This is the street.

This way. Come on.

This way. Come on.

Stay up. Stay up. Stay up.

-What we gonna do?
-Wait, wait, wait. Wait.

No, no. This way.

Wait, wait. Wait. Wait.

Stay down.

Shit.

There's a station.

Shit.

Max!

I do this for a living!

We're almost...

at the next stop.

Hey, Max.

A guy gets on the MTA here in LA and dies.

Think anybody will notice?

Come on.