Original subtitles

Cal, Julie again. Where are you?

I need your help, please.

Um, the newspaper's willing to pay you.

I already left one message. It's kind of urgent, Cal.

I'm meeting a source at the Stanmore Hotel, room 512.

Come as soon as you get this. Okay, thanks.

Beau.

You're early.

- Yeah. - All good?

Yeah. It's all there.

Everything you need to know.

- I gotta bounce. - Relax.

- I got a friend coming who's gonna help, remember? - Dr. Lightfoot?

Lightman. Cal Lightman.

- I don't know, man. - Please.

Just a few minutes more.

Come on. Give me that.

Come and get it.

- Emily? - My God. He's home.

- Why aren't you at school? - Why aren't you at work?

I'm a grownup. I keep my own hours.

I have free study this afternoon.

- Oh, yeah? - Yeah.

I'll put the kettle on, then, shall I? Does he take milk and sugar?

- I don't know. - Don't you think you should know?

Cal, Julie again. I need your help.

The newspaper's willing to pay you. It's kind of urgent, Cal.

I'm meeting a source at the Stanmore Hotel, room 512. Come as soon as you get this.

Okay, thanks.

Dick.

Rick, Dad. That's getting really old.

- Right. Sod the tea. Where do you live, son? - Waterfront.

- But I can just take the bus. - No, no, I'll take you. Get your bags. I'm in a hurry.

Would you put the candles out, please? You'll burn the house down.

- This is so stupid, Dad. It's just... - Yeah, I know, free study.

Go on, then.

Well, I'm coming with you.

No, you're not, actually.

It's just sex, dad.

How about a little music?

How about a little respect?

- Dr. Lightman... - Not interested.

I've gotta make a stop on the way.

You'll stay in the car. You'll come with me.

- Wait here. We're gonna have a little chat in a minute. - Oh, nice. The Space Museum.

You know, you can mouth off all you like, right. Just sit tight.

Julie?

It's Cal.

Dream, send me a sign.

Turn back the clock.

Give me some time

I need to break out.

Make a new name.

Let's open our eyes.

To the brand-new day.

Dad?

- Eh? - Dad, what's wrong?

Wait there. Stay there!

You're scaring me.

- Take the car. - But what about Rick?

Yeah, him too. Take him home.

Straight home, all right?

- I called the cops, not the F.B.l. - This woman was a journalist.

All she's worked on for two years is a story about a man...

who's also the focal point of an F.B.I. investigation.

- Dale Anslinger. - Do you know him?

I knew her.

She wanted me to meet a source.

She said if he was telling the truth, heads would roll.

She wanted to be sure.

She was like that, Julie. She was very thorough.

She had something hidden in this room the killer wanted.

Reynolds. Yeah.

All right, yeah, send them up.

C.S.U.'s on the way up.

What about the councilman?

Anslinger's not just anyone.

He's an ex-cop and a shoo-in to be mayor.

Now, this may be a friend of yours...

but you just can't go barge into the man's office and accuse him of murder.

Did you tell him to say that?

First and foremost, Agent Reynolds works for me, Dr. Lightman.

So you're telling me I can't go look the man in the eye?

And do what?

You must be joking.

Dr. Lightman, you're here to observe the councilman's reaction...

to the news of Miss Kinell's apparent murder.

Apparent?

Lightman, that's all you're here to do.

Uh, Federal Bureau of Investigation.

Any of the good stuff left in the bar?

- This is, uh, Agent Reynolds. - Reynolds.

Dr. Lightman from the Lightman Group.

The Lightman Group. The lie guy, right?

Julie Kinell's dead.

It's all right. You can smile.

At least it's honest, right?

Well, tell him. Go on.

Well, he knows nothing.

Miss Kinell was found in a D.C. hotel room, murdered.

One shot to the back of the neck.

She was meetin' a source.

Well, let's call a spade a spade, shall we?

The only story that woman was interested in writing...

was a fiction starring yours truly.

You know what she thought of you, then?

- Well, you want to know what I thought of her? - No, he doesn't.

Well, I believe in the First Amendment and brunettes.

What is it that she was onto with you, eh?

Was it your years as a cop?

Your connections to organized crime?

Dirty politics?

I'm a print-worthy man. What can I say?

Now, you've already said I know nothing about the murder...

so if it's all the same...

I'm going to need to take a moment of reflection for a promising life cut short...

and then get back to the people's work.

So you fellas know your way out.

You and Anslinger mates, are you, Bernard?

- You do your job, Lightman, and I'll do mine. - I am doing my job.

Trouble is, I can't stop doing my job.

Can't you cut the guy a break? 'Cause God knows, he cut you a break on that Campos case.

Now, look, Dillon's an okay guy and a good agent.

And that back there is exactly how you handle a son of a bitch like Anslinger.

I want everyone in the conference room in an hour.

I have to get to the crime scene.

Go to the newspaper.

Get all of Julie Kinell's notes, research, etcetera on Anslinger...

in the last two years.

Just walk in and demand that the editor hand it all over?

- You ever thought about charming him? - You might need me for that.

Why? Is the editor gay?

Who are you?

I killed that woman journalist.

I mean, I'm why she was in that hotel room to begin with.

You're the source?

Last person to see her alive.

Two detectives just arrived from Baltimore.

Say they need to speak with you, Dr. Lightman. Urgently.

Are you in?

They're gonna say I'm the one who killed her.

You gotta help me.

I already did 18 years in prison. I'm not goin' back for somethin' I didn't do.

Stall 'em.

- Dr. Lightman will be a short while. - Follow me.

We'd settle for your boss.

What were you doing at City Hall?

Councilman Anslinger hired me...

to whack this real estate fat cat, Stephen Cook.

Okay, back up. What's your name?

Is there another way out of here?

Name is Beau Hackman.

I went to that hotel room to give Julie an envelope-proof.

She told me about you. Said you were the only one to get the truth out if...

Well, you know, if somethin' happened to her.

Wait. Did you kill this man for Anslinger?

Ever break into a man's house, put a gun in his mouth, his wife asleep next to him?

- Only on weekends. - I can't do that no more.

Thought I could for that kind of money, but-but I can't, so now they're after me.

- Who is? - Councilman Anslinger.

Ex-cop. The next mayor. The man is untouchable.

What was in the envelope you gave to Julie?

Photos Anslinger gave me of Cook.

What, just photos?

Photos and tapes of phone calls.

Enough evidence to send Anslinger away for 20 years.

I wrote down how the hire went down.

Look, man, I got to bounce.

All right-Have you got copies of this stuff?

Stashed. I can get 'em to you, once I lose those two cops.

- What'd you do the 18 years for? - Murder.

Look it up. Public record.

Right. You were at City Hall to get to Anslinger before he got to you. Is that right?

Maybe. Maybe not.

Where's Hackman?

- Oh, he's long gone, mate. - Yeah?

Thanks to you.

How'd you know he was here?

- We didn't. - I told them he was here.

I'm not lying to cops chasing a murder suspect. There's a limit.

All right. Thank you very much, Torres. You can go.

Detective Wallowski. My partner, Detective Farr.

Well, if you didn't know he was here, what's your story?

Routine canvass. We came to speak with you, the man who discovered the body.

- I thought the F.B.I. had this one. - Many hands, Doctor Lightman.

- You work for Anslinger? - I work for the City of Baltimore.

Well, I'm not a cop, but you let the slow, fat one go down the stairs solo...

while you stand here flirting with me.

- What did Hackman want with you? - To tell me that he didn't kill Julie Kinell.

Well, actually, technically, he said he did kill her.

All right, but what he meant was it was his fault.

You had to be there.

All right. He contacts you again, you let me know.

Break it down for me, Torres.

You better bloody well be there.

Routine follow-up call, coincidence, my ass.

They knew Hackman was here. They probably followed him.

Which is why you didn't bother lying to 'em, right?

Well, they're not working with the F.B.I. Her answer to that was total deflection.

Anyone here seen Foster? Loker?

Anyone?

Well, don't all speak at once.

When I mentioned Anslinger, something was up. Come on, keep up.

- You ever thought about wearing sensible shoes? - Definitely.

- What, definitely sensible? - Definitely something came up when you mentioned Anslinger.

They're on Hackman's ass.

Oye. You seen Foster? Loker?

When you disappeared down the back stairs with that guy...

they went the other way to where the stairs dump out into the alley.

All right.

I don't think those detectives actually want to find Hackman yet.

- Maybe they're following him to someone. - Or something.

All right, so get hold of this Cook fellow. I want a word with him.

Okay. Hey, Em.

And get Loker over to the newspaper sharpish.

I want everything that, uh, Julie had on, uh, Anslinger.

Right. Do you-you want this...

Oh, yeah, closed.

So, I see you thought you'd face this head-on, did ya?

Seeing as it's actually all my fault, right?

Right. Give it your best shot then.

Well, uh, we didn't think that you'd be home.

And, uh, we weren't, uh...

trying to... uh...

Excuse me for...

feeling comfortable enough in my own home to be with my boyfriend...

who...

Who...

Who loves her, uh, very much.

And in the third person singular too.

- Oye. - He got away. Those two cops weren't even close to catching him.

- Foamy enough for you? - There's a little too much, now that you mention it.

- Emily's lost her virginity. - Lost it?

- Well, misplaced it, you know. - Lost works. But how do you know?

- I need your help on this one. - What about her mother?

Oh, God, no, um...

It's the professional ear that I need.

Oh, no, sit down. Not you, son.

Hop it, Dick-Uh, Rick.

Uh, I need to have a little chat with Emily, you know?

- Uh, talk to you later, Em? - Not before you talk to me first though.

Um, okay, um...

We got any food in the house, or...

I did the grocery shopping yesterday, if that's what you mean.

'Cause Foster's coming by and we're gonna have a little bit of dinner later.

- We're gonna talk about all of this then. - You dragged her into this?

So no beans on toast. All right?

Love you.

Don't forget that bit.

I hired a hit man to kill Stephen Cook?

The way you just said Cook's name, you could've been talking about...

A dog turd.

That's because he wants to turn the city's projects...

into a yuppie, latte-drinking, pedestrianized theme park.

Look, I'm far from a good man...

but I'm no murderer.

If I wanted to stop him, I would've gotten it done a long time ago.

An envelope was taken from Julie Kinell when she was murdered.

Search me.

I'm serious. Go ahead. Have your F.B.I. buddies come here with their fine-tooth combs.

Hell, have 'em go to my house.

But in the meantime, I have an early start in the morning.

I have to go scam a state senator at golf...

and I like to hit a bucket of balls the night before a big game.

You know, I... I may not have cared for your friend...

for reasons you well know.

I do, however, sympathize with your loss.

So don't take it out on me, sir.

I've read your books.

Well, if I'm really honest, I had some of my over-educated young persons scan them...

and give me the headlines.

So now I let you take my temperature, check my pulse.

Did I kill your friend?

Or have I, in my possession, this mystery envelope...

with God only knows what garbage?

Evidence you hired an ex-con to try and kill Stephen Cook.

Are you satisfied, Dr. Lightman?

The F.B.I. are not my buddies.

It's a business arrangement.

So what exactly are you trying to achieve, Cal? She's 17 years old.

You should've had a conversation with her when she was 15.

My dad talked to me when I was 14.

- Give us your bag. - Why?

Where's that thing I gave you last week?

Aah!

What are you doing in my house?

Where's my daughter?

Emily!

We're lookin' for a murder suspect.

Emily!

- What, so you just break into his house? - That crazy son of a bitch!

We, uh, wanted to talk to Dr. Lightman some more.

Door was open. Lights were out. We were, of course, concerned.

- Oh, the door was open, was it? - What I said.

- Yeah, as you lie through your teeth. - File a complaint.

Two cops looking for a murder suspect enter a house...

where they think the occupants are in danger.

Good luck with that.

- Where the hell you been? - At the store. I forgot the oregano.

Right. When you left, did you leave the door open?

- No, I wouldn't do that. - Right, you see that?

You see that? That was the truth, that was.

So you was lookin' for something, were you? An envelope?

The contents of which could put your councilman friend behind bars for life.

Excuse me. How do you figure that?

Apart from the look on your face, you mean?

And the raise in pitch in your voice from fear to surprise.

Oh, and for your next trick?

We're done here. Let's go, Wallowski.

I got your number.

Well, blink and you miss it, right? You didn't blink, did you?

Not even a whisper of denial, like they got done what they needed to do.

Convince us that they work for Anslinger.

- This'll have to happen another night, all right? - What was for dinner?

Roast Emily. To go.

A journalist is murdered, and they just hand over all their files to you, huh?

You underestimate the Loker charm.

Or overestimate the cops.

It's the first of 17 boxes. Want to help?

What?

Oh, just... seems a little too easy, is all.

Right. Okay. So it's not like I did good or anything.

Agent Reynolds.

Ms. Torres.

Mr. Cook sends his regards, but regrets that at this time he's unavailable.

Mister...

Ford. Harry.

Mr. Cook can't make time for the F.B.l.?

A little over a week ago, Mr. Cook was woken up in the middle of the night...

by a recently released convicted murderer...

who was sticking a gun in his mouth.

He has good reason to believe there is a specific and imminent threat to his life.

You mean Councilman Anslinger.

I didn't say that.

No disrespect, Harry, but actually you did, with your face.

If Mr. Cook is serious about eliminating this threat to his life...

we're gonna need his help, in person.

He even in town?

- Look, I'm not at liberty to... - He's in town.

Oh. In the building.

Well, we'd really appreciate his help, and I think he'd appreciate ours.

You see that leather couch out there?

Top dollar I paid for that to keep people like you comfortable...

while they're waitin'.

We have an urgent situation we'd like you to look into.

A Civil War reenactor, on federal land, was just found dead.

Really? That's fascinating, that is.

But I'm a little busy right now.

You're trampling all over an ongoing investigation...

involving multiple undercover agents and thousands of man-hours.

Which my friend got caught in the middle of and then ended up dead.

So where was all your man-hours then, eh?

You'll accompany Agent Reynolds to Fredericksburg.

Don't, and your relationship with the Bureau is over.

Let me ask you something.

Two years ago, when you flagged him in that security clearance interview...

that was based on a genuine scientific reading, right?

You know, sometimes, Ben, it's just...

a feeling.

A feeling.

Yeah.

Yep?

Yeah, I know it.

Yeah. Yeah, I'll be there.

Send me a postcard from Fredericksburg.

- Go! Go!. - Move it! Move it!

Watch it! Watch it!

F.B.I.!

Why'd you follow me, you bloody idiot?

Central King 1-7.

You made him wear a wire?

You didn't like the look of me.

I'm going to the hospital. Are you coming?

Now you think I'm on the councilman's payroll, or is that just a feeling too?

No, I remember you. You could never answer a simple question with a simple answer.

- Ask the question. Go ahead. Right now. - It's too late for that, mate.

Why?

It just got personal between us.

Whose fault is that?

A wire? Is that even legal?

Reynolds chose to wear that wire. I didn't order him to do it.

He wanted to prove that your beef with me was based in science...

science that you believed in, right or wrong, that it was nothing more than that...

before I suspended your F.B.I. contract...

and opened an investigation into your entire life.

I'll let you know how it went from the hospital.

- You hear about Reynolds? - Yeah.

Figure the best thing I could do for him is just stay on top of this. Are you okay?

Hey. How is he doing?

- He's hanging on by a thread. - Is that what they said?

- Not in so many words, no. He's in surgery. - Reynolds is a fighter.

Was this your fault?

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to s...

That-That came out wrong.

Is there anything in Kinell's research I should see?

- Not if the F.B.I. is as good as she was. - What about Cook?

I don't think he's going to show his face anywhere...

until he believes this threat to his life has been dealt with.

He's here.

- Eh? - Uh, Mr. Cook.

Sorry. Should've knocked. He just got here.

Uh, all right, Anna, call Foster at the hospital. I want her here for this one.

And, oye! Stall Cook.

We'll do this in the lab.

All right, Bernard, you in here, mate.

Make out like you're going to interview him or something.

- Why? - Because you're going to interview him or something.

You do want to verify the story that Hackman shoved the gun in his mouth, don't you?

You don't believe that?

Well I don't really believe anything I've been told so far.

You know, it's all been just a bit convenient.

Or hadn't you noticed?

Anger.

Happiness.

Tonya Harding.

And here she is. Uh, Dr. Foster, Mr. Cook.

- Hi. - Hi.

- How's Agent Reynolds? - He's in the best possible hands.

Thanks, Anna.

Very impressive.

What are you doing down this way, Stephen?

I'm told that the F.B.I. agent who was shot today...

is the same agent who came by my offices last night asking for my help.

Mmm, what's that about?

Fear.

No, that was sadness. That's more where that landed.

Why not build your mall somewhere else, in another city?

I was born and raised in Baltimore.

The city's been goin' to the dogs for years.

I'm doing something about it, as I break down the walls of corruption that man has built.

- You knew that man. - In a manner of speaking.

I think you know the story.

Did you know about an envelope of evidence that he had against Anslinger?

- Envelope? - You should really see your eyebrows right now.

Okay, you got me. I know.

- I have my sources. - Oh, is it the cops?

The F.B.I.?

Oh, not the F.B.I.

I mean, not so far as Special Agent Dillon is aware of, anyway.

So, did the cops tell you about the envelope, did they?

Have you searched Anslinger's office?

His house? His condo?

You just scared the pants off my mate Bernard.

You know, Julie Kinell knew about that, too, about Anslinger's condo.

His, uh, secret fornicatorium at the harbor.

It's where he went to fornicate with hookers.

I think Anslinger's got something personal against Mr. Cook here.

You gotta find that for me, will you?

I'm not even going to ask why you failed to mention the condo.

For all I know, you're gettin' a slice of action off the hookers.

Oh.

And then some.

I think we're finally gettin' on the same page, you and I.

I'll start with what he's hiding in that condo.

What if there isn't anything?

There is.

What if it has nothing to do with the murder of your friend?

Then you're up the creek without a paddle.

Ain't ya?

How come you never told me about Julie?

Well, there's nothing much to tell, really.

I've been watching you grieve for your friend for the last 36 hours.

Well, she wanted to be a little bit more than a friend, you know.

You know what I mean?

I'm sorry.

All right.

Will you make sure Cook's there too?

Okay.

I want it on record that I'm here of my own free will.

This isn't a court or a police station. There is no record.

- And no right to remain silent. - Well, it would be a bit of a waste of time.

Come all the way down here of your own free will just to remain silent.

They had the F.B.I. search my offices and my house.

And your condo. Don't forget your condo.

What did, uh, Loker call it again? The...

- Fornicatorium. At the harbor. - Yeah.

Okay, my private life has nothing to do with...

Let's talk about the 14th Amendment for a sec, shall we?

Referring to the right to privacy.

Even more of a gray area in here, you know. Want me to explain?

Hey, guys.

The F.B.I. found something in the councilman's condo.

Oh.

Let me guess. Uh, sex toys?

Oh, something worse.

Like much worse, right?

Something bad. Something very naughty.

Yeah, perverted. I can't wait.

A shredder?

The agents who did the search are waiting outside, if you want to talk to them.

So, am I supposed to unshred all of this?

Don't you have F.B.I. people who, this is what they do all day?

Hey.

Haven't you got bodyguards or something, Stephen?

The only protection worth paying for is the kind you can't see.

- You do know that the councilman's here, right? - That's why I'm here.

Thank you so much for coming back. Right this way.

Guess who owns the paper Julie Kinell worked for.

Did you manage to find that personal link...

between those two men that I asked you for earlier?

Oh, I'm sorry.

You were waiting for some kind of high-five thing, were you?

I'd start with, uh, Anslinger's time as a cop if I were you.

Follow me, Bernard.

Huh. What is this place?

This is where we do some of our best work.

Is this really necessary?

Well, you wanted your pound of flesh, right?

Right, I want a good, dirty fight. Plenty of hits below the belt.

The more the merrier.

You hired that ex-con to kill me.

Why would I do that?

They found the evidence in your condo.

The one where you take your whores.

Whoa, that was a gear shift.

Evidence. What evidence?

Right.

He has absolutely no idea what they found in his condo.

So go on, tell him. Go on.

A shredder.

They found a shredder.

You see that?

That was relief, that was.

Come on.

What about the whips and the gas masks? The size-11 stiletto pumps?

Eh?

All right, that was shame.

I mean, that's what he was hiding in the condo, not a bloody shredder.

- I don't even own a shredder. - True enough.

- Is your blood starting to boil a little bit? - Excuse me? For what?

You had everything point at him.

It made perfect sense.

Ex-cop-stroke-politician hires ex-con to kill rival.

I'm a businessman, not a rival politician.

You're a billionaire, mate. It's the only power that matters.

How much did you pay those two detectives, eh?

How much did you pay Hackman to kill Julie?

I didn't come here to be spoken to like this. Open the door.

It was a very clever move, having Hackman tell me that he killed Julie up front.

That's hiding the truth within the truth. That's very tricky.

You had me going for a bit.

The envelope was just bait, right, to get Julie in the hotel room...

where you had Hackman kill her.

You even sent us to his condo, where you planted a shredder.

Open the door.

You own the newspaper Julie worked for.

You made it look like he had her killed.

You did the same with Hackman, almost killing another friend of mine in the process, by the way.

For what reason? Some kind of rivalry?

You already said I have all the power I need.

Let's talk about this for a minute, shall we?

It's a Baltimore D.U.I...

that you got from him 20 years ago.

This isn't just about a ticket, is it? This is about something else.

You're that guy? This is about that?

This is about her? What's-her-name?

She couldn't wait to be with a real man. She just needed me to show her.

We were going to be married. She was my whole life.

She was a passenger in your car, which you were driving drunk.

I wasn't drunk.

I think you remember this like it was yesterday. You'd had a few, right?

He thought it would be fun to arrest my fiancee...

on some fictional prostitution allegations.

He insults her, gropes her, cuffs her, and then he takes her away.

What'd you do about it, eh?

Eh?

Nothing.

Sod all.

What'd-What'd you do, you know, with the fiancee after?

Well, I took her home. We dated for a while.

- It was good while it lasted. - Shut up.

Am I proud of it? If I had my life to do over, would I do it again?

Open the door, Lightmanl.

You see that? You see that?

Did you ever read any of my friend Julie's work, eh? Eh?

Have you got any idea what sort of a woman it is that you killed?

Open the door, Lightman.

This is a woman...

that went off to Iraq during the Shock and Awe show...

and refused to embed with the troops.

Lightman, this has gone too far.

I mean, it just doesn't happen anymore.

Lightman, this ends now!

Let him go, Councilman. It's over.

You call yourself a man?

That's what she said, eh?

Your fiancee?

Get him out of my sight, Bernard.

A billionaire? The only power that matters?

Not in my town.

That's all about you, that is.

I think you know full well I'm not going to let Julie's work go to waste.

So you and I...

we're going to get to know each other very well.

There's something you've gotta understand, right, Em?

I was Rick's age once, right?

Look, gimme a break, all right? 'Cause I'm makin' this up as I go along. Give me a break.

- Okay. - All right.

My point is...

that he can't control himself.

It's not possible.

You might think that he is the most amazing bloke...

that you've ever met in your life.

And you may be right.

But I'm tellin' you for a fact...

that... Rick...

along with every other teenage boy out there...

is gonna promise you just about anything.

- I mean, he's willing to say almost anything... - To get in my pants?

This is not a joke.

Em, this is not a joke.

Rick and I never actually did it, Dad.

But you said-you said, "This is just sex."

You said that. "Dad, this is just sex."

I was mad at you.

So...

that's the good news.

What's the bad news then, eh?

Two boyfriends ago.

Really?

You okay?

No.

I mean, y-yeah, you know.

Not really.

Come here.

You know why I trust you.

Yeah. 'Cause you're smart.

And you're a great dad.

And what other choice do you have?

Yeah.

Come here, you.