All language subtitles for ironside_s01e10_the_monster_of_comus_towers

Didn't expect you back till tomorrow.

Work can't wait, Chapman.

You can say that again. Half the staff
is still here on overtime.

Is that right?

The wind on the tower.

I'd better take a look. No, finish your
lunch.

It's probably a migrating bird.

This time of year, the wind blows them
into every high rise in the city.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Davis in motion, draws the corner
linebacker out to cover him, leaving

open. Free safety comes in a few steps
to close it up.

And then we... Get it, will you, Mark?

Davis is 15 yards on go.

You've got to cut downfield.

It's for you.

And I'm busy.

The game's only 10 days away, and this
flail cracked wide open. It's urgent,

Enzo Rossi.

Enzo!

I thought you swore never to leave Rome
again.

Don't wreck that play.

What can I do for you?

What?

Go on.

Whoever did it did what?

Then I'll have to see. We'll be right
over.

Where are we going?

Comus building, to be exact. Comus
Towers. Query.

If it doesn't fly with ease in a 50 mile
an hour wind, what can walk up and down

the sides of a glass and stainless steel
building, has no blood, and wears

tennis shoes?

Thank you.

That window washing scaffold is five
stories below, Lieutenant.

They could have used the ropes.

But in this wind... Humans fly.

No prints on the knife.

Beautiful.

And now him.

Now why can't I be lucky and be walking
a beat?

See if they found anything on top.

And tell that doctor to get in here.

Good evening, Lieutenant.

You remember Mark Sanger?

How do you feel?

A little weak, that's all. I'll be all
right.

Ironside, Sanger, Mr. Edmund.

Mr. Edmund's in charge of the security
system.

Chief Ironside... Chief Ironside doesn't
need an introduction.

Well, then.

Stolen picture.

The triptych.

That centerpiece was a three -by -six
wooden slab.

Probably weighed 40 pounds.

Meaning, he didn't tuck it under his
arm. Let's try to do some

Will you gentlemen excuse us?

Wheel in, wheel out.

You got a male dance in?

Well, some security system.

Electronic. Magnetic tape records all
data.

The footprints were those of a big man,
180 or so, 6 feet. Right -handed?

Left. Why?

The guard was killed from behind.

He had a gun. If you only have a knife,
you don't go head -on into a man with a

gun. Right you are, Mr. Sanger.

Window broken from inside or outside?

I don't know.

I don't either.

That on the floor.

What do you make of this?

Sloppy janitor work.

Chocolate, Charlie. A meal and a
mouthful.

Vital evidence.

You're joking.

I haven't joked since 1958.

Well, I expect the VIPs are waiting for
us in Mr. Comis' office. Gentlemen.

See what the coroner has, then meet us
in Comis' office.

Right.

Guilty. They're waiting to talk to you
in there.

But what use is talk now?

I tell you, I was always afraid of this.

You come to my apartment.

Here. I've written the address.

How about that, Mark?

Strange, beautiful woman forces her
address on tired old beta... Roberto.

My keeper, Mr.

Tanger, Signor Rossi.

Piacere.

Thank you for coming.

I see you have met my wife, Stella.

Come, Mr.

Comos is waiting.

Do not trust this man.

Do not trust anyone.

Including you, Mrs. Rossi?

Come in, come in.

Mr. Ironside, Comos. Howard Comos.

This is Mr. Simmons, our curator.

He and Mr. Rossi put this exhibition
together.

Mr. Tanner.

How do you do?

Well, if everybody will sit down, I'll
get right to the point. The point, Mr.

Comis, is clear.

And since it's late and I'm already
sitting down, I'll get right to it.

We've been called in because a valuable
work of art has been stolen, not to

mention a man murdered.

Now, it looks like somebody made his way
up the sheer side of this building. He

had to fight a howling gale, no
traction, and sealed windows.

But our acrobat did it.

Killed one of your employees and almost
nailed another.

And the picture? Oh, not a picture, Mr.
Comis. All right, whatever it was. It

was six feet long, a heavy wooden board.
Now, how could he have gotten it out?

Mr. Comis, when you ask how the center
panel was taken out, what you really

to know is who done it.

Okay, this is Wednesday. The answer by
Saturday.

Saturday? That's right. Sunday, I've got
a date with the 49ers.

Anyone here want the Rams and six
points?

Comus Computer Corporation has plants
and research centers throughout the

And they're all equipped with my
security system.

It works.

Nobody could have gotten in except
through that window.

How about the gallery entrance?

That's impossible.

There's an invisible infrared beam in
this archway.

Its location changes automatically every
hour.

Even the slightest shadow would trigger
the alarm.

How come you didn't break the beam when
you entered the gallery?

Well, I knew its location. I simply
ducked under it.

Did you have a chance to turn on the
lights?

I started for the switch, but he hit me
from behind. Got me by the throat.

I kept pulling back so that I could
throw the alarm.

I managed that, then passed out.

I guess Chapman coming in saved my life.

Oh, I don't know.

No, it seems to me that Chapman was
killed because he came in with a gun.

Now, on the other hand, you were alive
simply because you were unarmed.

Not bad deduction, Mr. Simmons. Now, do
you have anything else to say about

what's happened tonight?

No, no, sir. Well, yes, there is
something.

Well, it's only that I'm very relieved
to know that the legendary, yeah,

legendary Chief Ironside is on the job.
Now, if you will excuse us.

What's with this Saturday bit, huh?

Pressure cooker shatters strategy, force
a move.

Comus wears his watch on his right
wrist.

Simmons shoes.

A cordovan, English leather, fairly new.

Wears out the tips of the soles and the
insides of the heels.

Five eyelets for laces.

I counted four.

Could be wrong.

I did. I never saw it. S -V -I -L -L -M
-A -N.

Is that the way you spell it?

Yes.

Amanda Stillman. Why were you working
late, Miss Stillman?

Oh, because Mr. Comers was.

And as his confidential secretary, you'd
know everything about his business

affairs, wouldn't you?

No secret.

Go on.

Ever discuss the workings of the
security system with anyone?

Oh, absolutely not.

Think, Miss Stillman. You might be
mistaken.

I don't make mistakes.

Lieutenant.

Red -letter day, gentlemen. The world's
first perfect woman.

Nothing funny about her. Yeah, all
heart.

And something else.

You mean, for somebody who's worked all
day, she looks like she just stepped out

of a beauty parlor?

Well, Chief, if you've got a suspect,
you're one up on me.

Cheer up, Lieutenant.

I don't know a thing.

It's all right, Vincent.

They don't suspect a thing.

Roberto, my friend, the collection in
the gallery is valued at $20 million.

Thank you. I told them the show should
be closed at once and return everything

before something else happens. I pray
not, because you see I am responsible.

Enzo, the espresso.

Un momento, cara.

So much happened tonight, it is not
straight in my head, but... No,

it would not be right to say what I
think when I'm not sure.

Excuse. I sit to the espresso.

Ah, I am pleased you appreciate it. It's
my hobby. Close circle TV.

Signor Ironside, you must recover that
centerpiece at once.

You know what we're saying. Bella
figura.

To put on a good face.

At any moment now, the newspapers in
Rome, the news of the theft.

Then will come the cables. The telephone
lines will burn.

And Ansel will be blamed for everything.
Those are treasures. They are in the

United States because of his influence.

He had to go high places.

The curator, Mr. Simmons, was the
exhibition his idea?

Si.

Mr. Siemens knew only Enzo could get the
permission to remove those treasures

out of Italy.

And if they're not returned, all of
them, it could mean Enzo's life. The

must be paid.

Ransom, Mrs. Rossi?

I'm not aware that any ransom has been
asked.

I... well, I assumed.

Caffè espresso.

Made expressly for Roberto.

Tim? Captain, milk bottles are out.

Ticastic. We haven't got all night,
Mark.

The name is George.

Well, much George.

What do we call it?

What I'm doing tonight? Blind obedience?

Do I detect resentment?

Curiosity.

You want to steal a treasure from the
gallery?

To prove it was an inside job.

Security layout courtesy of Mr. Comus.
Makes me an informed insider.

You're my accomplice, maybe an outsider.

We conspire to steal an art treasure.

What? Money.

Why all of a sudden do I be an
accomplice? An inside job could have

just by one gun.

Why do I have to go for this two
business? Because I say so.

All right, I'm an accomplice, and we're
conspiring. Two stealing our treasure.

Now, behold a beam which we cannot see.

Get out the sensor. We know where that
beam is.

It's just about even with your waist.
All right, Mr. Stanger.

Let's raise that beam and I'll wheel
through.

Okay, Chief. I'll make you the prettiest
arch you've ever seen.

I'll watch the dial.

That's it. Hold it. You have it.

After you.

You know, Miss Amanda Stillman would
know about these beads.

Are you suggesting that the 115 -pound
perfect lady carried that center panel

out of here, a heavy wooden slab? How
could she? Maybe she had an accomplice.

All right. Now, we're going to take
that.

Now, first, I smash the window.

But break off some pieces to scatter on
the floor, creating the confusion about

breakage from inside or outside.

Then all that hocus -pocus with the
footprints.

I hear the elevator door open.

Someone's coming.

It's Edmund.

I wait for him here.

Now, he ducks under the beam, comes in,
and naturally reaches for the light

switch.

I hit him.

He turns. I grab him by the throat.

In the struggle, he manages to draw
back, draws back, and breaks the light

The alarm goes off.

We struggle. I hit him again. He falls.

Now, I've got to hurry.

With Edmund out of the way, I go back to
the center panel

and... Now, that's mighty curious.

What is?

Mighty curious.

The chief guard, Henry Chapman. Where is
he when the alarm goes off?

Well, security office is on the 10th
floor.

He's on his way up now.

Then what am I waiting for?

What? What in blazes am I waiting for?
Edmund's unconscious, the alarm's

Chapman, but he's just leaving the 10th
floor.

Why don't I just take the center panel
and leave? I've got plenty of time

he gets here. Why do I wait and kill
him?

Side end goes five yards, cuts across
middle, and breaks straight down while

passer... We got something, Chief.

All right.

Amanda Stillman.

She's been seeing a married man among
whose business interest is an art

in Burlingame.

An old friend of yours. Maybe they know.

Vince Longo.

Patron of the arts. That's a new one.
They've been seeing each other almost

every night. Every night?

Where, we don't know.

But they end up at a cafe called La
Carita.

Tell Mark to get dressed.

It's midnight. I know what it is when
the big hand and the little hand are at

the top.

I'd like to tell you... Hey!

How are things at the hundred -buck
window, Vince?

Ironside.

Is that one of your boys?

One of the city's finest.

Mark, meet Mr. Longo.

A success story worthy of Horatio Alger.

Don't start on me, Ironside.

Started with some high -class confidence
games in Chicago.

Graduated to forged old masters, then to
rich older women.

A man.

I've been clean for five years now.

So just get off my back.

Table right over here.

And don't worry about Miss Tillman.

Sergeant Brown hasn't pistol -whipped a
woman in over a month.

Captain Salme.

Beer.

Beer.

Nothing here.

What do you want?

Miss Tillman has an important job.

Company secrets.

including knowledge of its security
system.

Well, what's that got to do with me?

Night before last, I was with friends.

Poker. Vince, you're losing your cool in
your old age.

Yeah?

What do you mean? I didn't ask you what
you were doing night before last when

the pretty picture was stolen.

Listen, Ironside.

I own part of a gallery out on the
peninsula.

I can buy what I want.

You haven't got the money to buy this
one.

No.

My house in Hillsboro is worth quite a
piece of change.

It's in your wife's name.

You, uh, are still married.

You'll leave my wife out of this.

Sure, Vince.

All I want is some information.

Since I don't know much about art, being
in the field, you must have vast

connections. The whereabouts of the
center panel of the Medici triptych by

midnight tomorrow.

What if I don't come up with anything?

That would be very unfortunate.

What were you doing in the Comus
building night before last?

I told you where I was.

Yeah, but you're away.

I don't care what your wife finds out.

Oh, boy.

You really get down in the gutter, don't
you? I'm down in the gutter because

that's where you live.

Midnight tomorrow.

I'll ask around.

Mark. Olé.

He wants that picture.

Why tell me?

You don't think that I... I don't think
anything. I don't know anything about

it. I was with you.

Only until five minutes before the
alarm.

Do you know what I did with those five
minutes?

No, tell me.

Goodbye, sweetheart.

Then I took the elevator down to the
lobby, identified myself to the guards,

explained to them that I was visiting
with Miss Stillman, who happens to be

my... That's enough.

I was on the stairs when I heard the
sirens. What was I supposed to do? Oh,

the sirens.

And the police with questions. And your
wife.

My wife has nothing to do with this. Oh,
hasn't she?

Clever. Using me for entry in a cover.

You know, with enough money, you could
be free of her.

And maybe free enough to find some other
Amanda to love you. Amanda, will you

talk sense, darling?

Sense, darling.

You're mine.

And if you ever make me think that I'm
not yours, I'll put a bullet in you.

I got your grades from school today.

And?

May I suggest that you excuse yourself
and hit the books?

May I be excused?

Can't we do this in the morning?

I promised the coach I'd try to work
this out. Why don't you try vitamins and

start writing?

Vince Longo, Amanda Stillman, Howard
Comas,

Owen Simmons, or any combination of two
thereof. I can't see who else.

Put down Herbert Chapman.

The dead guard?

Could be a dead accomplice.

Well, if we're going to put down
everybody involved, why not the one who

got killed, Edmund, and... Enzo Rossi?

Stella Rossi.

Sergeant Brown.

Ironside. Please, quickly.

That's you, Anzo?

Roberto, I have had an idea who has done
this.

Look at his lips.

Cyanide.

Death in two or three seconds is the
most.

All right, Ed.

Roberto, my friend, the collection in
the gallery is valued at $20 million.

I told them the show should be closed at
once.

Return everything.

or something else happens.

You think something will?

I pray not.

Because, you see, I'm responsible.

Enzo, the espresso.

Un momento, cara.

So much happened tonight.

It is not straight in my head, but...
No, it would not be right to say what I

think when I'm not sure.

Excuse.

All right, we'll need this tape.

Return everything before something else
happens.

You know...

When I heard his voice... What did you
find in there?

Entire walls of the shower were still
wet.

Skirt and jacket over the back of a
chair.

So she was here within the last hour.
She changed and... And went to dinner at

Shelton's.

What now?

We have things to do.

Call Lieutenant Fitch, who, being an
intelligent, competent detective, will

survey the scene and...

pronounce it suicide i want all that
shattered glass to the lab

how is she the doctor gave her some
heavy stuff so she'll sleep

suicide as of now no amount of insurance
could replace that

work of art on top of that she said he
was pretty deep in debt he's standing

here when he takes the cyanide all you
need is the nerve to put it in your

He falls, upsets everything.

Call me the minute you get the autopsy
report, will you?

If Ironside can get some sleep, so can
I.

Why didn't we look for the cyanide?

Waste of time.

Eve, get a briefcase, wear something
tweety, low heels, glasses. You and Ed

going to the tower.

Our Mr. Sanger will be happy to drive
you there.

I want overtime.

Low -heeled glasses. Synchronize my
watch?

Be ready in half an hour. Chief, why was
looking for this ionite a waste of

time?

Ed, does a man knowingly take an
instantaneous poison while talking on

telephone?

Hardly.

Rossi died in that apartment.

But he was murdered somewhere else.

I beg your pardon.

I beg yours.

Who are you and what do you want?

I'm from the Golden State Research, and
I would like your opinion, sir.

If there were a national election
today... I do not choose to comment on

speculation.

Sergeant Brown, are you following me?

No, not at all.

Well, how'd you find me?

Well, that's what we're paid for. I'll
leave a sample ballot and some

literature. Yes, all right. Thank you.

Now, what can I do for you?

The chief wants an inventory of the art
exhibition.

That's a coincidence. I was just looking
for one myself.

It would contain the value of each
object, amount of insurance, specific

Poor Rossi.

Tragic. Thank you, sir. And good day to
you.

Yes, good day to you.

Mr. Comus, when you find the inventory,
let us know.

I'll do that.

All right.

It was in the cigarette box.

No cyanide.

There won't be cyanide in any of them.

So much for our brilliant, perfectly
timed scheme.

By any way, you were sensational.

I'm from the Golden State Research, sir,
and we'd like your opinion.

Ironside.

Good. I was wondering when it would
happen.

Okay, but a stipulation.

No matter what it says about secrecy, I
want every principle present when it's

read.

In ten minutes.

Wake up, Mark.

Stella Rossi was right.

Mr. Comus has just received a ransom
note.

We have the picture.

No tricks or it will be destroyed.

Here's a description to prove we have
it.

Does this description satisfy you?

Minute paint cracks.

splotches of original pigment on the
back.

An old catalog numbering. Oh, yes. Yes,
indeed. I'd say they have it. I checked

with Rome. They agree.

To go on.

The price is $250 ,000 in denominations
no larger than $100 bills.

Specific instructions will follow.

And that is that.

I'll take that evidence now.

Wish I hadn't already handled it so
much.

So, What do you want done?

Pay, of course.

Meet all the demands.

Forget the insurance. I have the image
of this corporation to consider. I beg

your pardon, Mr. Comus, but that amounts
to paying a reward for murder.

I wouldn't give them ten cents.

Didn't I say something?

Herbert Chapman's dead.

Mr. Rossi's dead.

And I nearly got it myself.

You want to pay off? I didn't call this
meeting to discuss the rights and wrongs

of extortion.

We're here to discuss ways and means of
acquiring a piece of merchandise.

Mr. Edmund, what do you have in mind?

When we get the next one, the one with
special instructions, let Lieutenant

Fitch be there with plenty of help. We
will meet the demands.

Ironside, how do you suggest we proceed?

Adjourn this meeting, wait for the next
note.

Lieutenant Fitch?

I'll go along with that.

Well, how's your neck?

Tomorrow, Liv.

That's the spirit.

I've asked around.

Nobody knows anything.

I can't meet that deadline.

Just wanted to keep you busy, Vince.

Lieutenant. What can I do for you,
Chief?

I've been so tied up, I haven't had time
to see the autopsy report on Rossi.

It's available.

You know it wasn't suicide.

How would I know that?

Because you didn't find the poison.

It looks so obvious that I... The
container wasn't in Rossi's hotel suite,

the broken glass didn't show a trace of
cyanide.

So, how did it get into his system?

A capsule.

Because the autopsy showed traces of
gelatin?

What else, Lieutenant?

What else did the report show?

Milk, crackers, gelatin, and traces of
an as yet unidentified varnish -like

substance. Yeah, that'll do it. Do what?

We got these in Rossi's office. Checked
with his doctor. He had an ulcer.

Nothing, not a trace.

What's the big discovery?

What do the directions three times a day
suggest?

Morning, noon, and night.

He took one in the morning, another
after lunch.

The third one in the evening killed him.

I see. He takes the capsule, goes home,
and dies 15 minutes later. At body

temperature, a gelatin capsule will
dissolve in about three minutes.

But coated with an as yet unidentified
varnish -like substance, let it dry, and

you extend the time at least 10 or 12
minutes.

How would the killer know when Rossi
would take the one that was loaded?

Might have been willing to wait, but I
don't buy that.

No, Rossi took that capsule when the
killer meant him to.

Look at it carefully.

You might see how it was done.

Mr. Ironside, I can't say I like your
insistence that the reading of ransom

notes be conducted like a sit -in,
but... You will carry out the following

instructions to the letter.

At midnight tonight, on the tower floor,
the money will be placed in the number

one elevator by Mr. Edmund.

Go on, Mr. Comer.

Absolutely no one else is to be in the
building, and there are to be no police

within a radius of one mile.

When I have the money, you will be
notified by telephone as to the location

the picture. Stupid.

Trying to pull it off inside the
building?

Well, grab him before he can open it.
You will not. They still have the

triptych. Exactly, and I'm not going to
risk having it destroyed.

How about that?

About what?

What do you think?

Written on different typewriters.

Perhaps to confuse us.

Maybe, but there's something else.

Remember the first note said, we have
the picture.

And this one says...

When I have the money.

The difference between the I and the we
tells me somebody's getting sandbagged.

In plain language, the old double
-cross.

With the I trying to walk off with all
the money.

Well, I don't care who's getting double
-crossed by whom or why. We're going to

do exactly as that note says.

I second the motion.

You're giving in? The triptych is still
in danger.

I might like a good heavyweight fight
more than a tour of some museum.

But when something's the one and only
original, you don't risk destroying it.

Sergeant, Mark, let's go.

If it doesn't fly with ease

in a 50 -mile -an -hour wind, what can
walk up and down the sides of a glass

stainless steel building has no blood...

And wears tennis shoes.

It'll never fly.

What did you say?

If it doesn't fly with the... It'll
never fly.

Never fly.

Exactly. What did I say? Did I say
something?

Where's that videotape?

Why do you keep hiding things on me?

To the world's greatest detective, a
videotape.

Let's go.

We off and running again?

We are closing in.

One minute to go, Mr. Edmund.

I thought you said... I changed my mind.
Shall we get ready?

Well, if whoever it is finds out you're
here... I'll give odds. He's somewhere

between here and the basement.

Query, which floor?

I'll know which floor.

Little troubleshooter. All transistor.

A time to be living.

I understand you people marry those
computers to each other.

Nineteen. Eighteen.

Surprised it doesn't count for you.

He killed Chapman.

I'm not going to let him get away with
it.

Fifteen.

Fourteen. Still moving.

Thirteen.

Twelve.

Nine.

Where she stops, nobody knows.

Eight. I'll take between five and two.

He'll use the stairs the rest of the
way. Got a point.

Six.

Five.

Four.

You stopped at four.

Might catch him yet.

We've got to.

The money.

Where's the money?

Ironside. Who, Vince?

A quarter of a million.

I thought I could get it for myself.

I followed him in.

I... I said I... I don't know.

Try for the gun, Edmund. Give me an
excuse to break your back. Sergeant.

The door is open. Just hang up there. I
couldn't see who did it.

Hit the cuffs on him and call
headquarters.

Well, Edmund, your partner almost pulled
it off. I don't know who or what you're

talking about.

I'll sue.

Tell Lieutenant Fitch we have one
killer.

I'm holding another sit -in at the
gallery in an hour.

The machine?

The machine.

Now, I'm going to try to break free.
Notice the position of Sergeant Brown's

hands.

You see, if his fingers had been dug
into my neck, the wounds would have been

horizontal, front to back.

The scratches on Edmund's neck were
vertical, self -inflicted.

Edmund's accomplice staged the scene.

Edmund came up, clawed at his own
throat, set off the general alarm, and

He killed the guard to make it look
convincing.

Why no fingerprints on the knife?

And if he wore gloves, what did he do
with them? Well, now, what could have

covered the handle of that knife?

I know, the candy wrapper.

And you told me it was vital evidence.

I was kidding at the time.

All right, keep going.

I want to know how you trapped Edmund as
if... He dictated it to Eve Whitfield.

Take a ransom note, he said.

Getting Edmund to suspect his
accomplice, his accomplice to suspect

That's fantastic.

Then when Edmund found out that Longo
was double -crossing him, Longo was

a partner. He was a greedy latecomer to
the game.

So you see, Mr. Comus, we are still
missing Edmund's accomplice.

Well, that's all very interesting.

But did Edmund tell you where the
missing panel is?

Simmons, call Rome.

Mr. Simmons, I'm not finished.

Sergeant Machine.

Roberto,

my friend, the collection in the gallery
is valued at $20 million.

Thank you.

I told them the show should be closed at
once.

Return everything before something else
happens.

Do you think something will?

I pray not.

Because, you see, I'm responsible.

That's enough.

Tonight, my associate, Mr. Sanger,
remarked that something couldn't fly.

And it came to me that the triptych
couldn't either.

Closing the exhibition, sending
everything back, must have been a shock

whoever knew that the center panel was
still here.

Sergeant Brown, you may now draw your
gun, pointed at whoever runs.

What are you doing?

Mr. Comus, save for the late Senor Rossi
and Edmund.

Everybody at that meeting is here.

Yourself, the two women, and Mr.
Simmons, who was Edmund's accomplice.

Mr. Simmons.

Life's short enough.

No, please.

Edmund made me do it!

He said he'd already done his part.

And your part was to go to Rossi's
office with

one of these with cyanide in it.

And this was on his desk.

Now, you took off the cap and put the
poison capsule in on top of the cotton.

He thought nothing of it when he opened
the bottle that night.

Book him.

Well, that wraps it up.

Amazing.

Beating them to the punch with your own
ransom note. Moving people around like

puppets.

Reminds me, I have a play to work on.

A play?

Yeah. Tight end over the middle, then
running a post pattern.

Sergeant, call the coach. Tell him I'll
have it tomorrow.

I'm sure he's still sitting by the
phone.

Football, Mr. Comus.

I thought it was pool.

That too.

Mr. Comus.

I understand computers can have nervous
breakdowns.

The equivalent, yes.

Well, do yourself a favor and don't
assign one of them to him.