Original subtitles

Kamali!

Scott!

Come on!

Come on!

Come on!

Come on, come on.

Come on.

Where's Kamali?

Fuckwits!

Yeah.

You know that asshole came back to the boat to help me get you out?

If he hadn't have, you wouldn't be here.

- "That asshole" being Kamali? - Yeah.

Who fucking does that?

He just found out you're a Mossad agent.

- If it were me... - You would have let me die.

Yeah.

Yeah. Me, too.

You see? That's why we're made for each other.

I have to go.

Fuck. Really?

Rebecca,

how long till they get here?

Who?

That Mossad team that you're waiting for.

Don't bullshit me.

I know that Kamali's still in this town. Otherwise you wouldn't be here with me.

- Maybe I want to be here with you. - Yeah.

Well, this is a Mossad mission.

You crashed my party, remember?

Yeah.

- When do they get here? - 24 hours.

Shit.

Yeah.

It'll be too late.

He really will have gone by then.

Unless, of course, you and me team up,

together,

and double our chances of getting him.

He's got a safe deposit box in a bank in every city he operates in.

Dead drops for intel, cash, passports, and a list of safe houses.

He will be in one of those houses, waiting for Gomez to get him across the border.

We get the safe deposit box, we get Kamali.

Nice.

What are you so happy about?

Because we're going to rob a bank.

We're going to do what?

It's not really a bank.

The safety deposit boxes are under the Central Stock Exchange.

You kidding me? You told me it was a bank.

It has a vault. You still get to play bank robber.

Awesome. That's all I need.

What?

You didn't play cops and robbers when you were a kid?

Yeah.

Then let me guess. You played the cop, didn't you, Michael?

Well, now you got to play the robber. So you in or out?

If this is what keeps us from telling Locke that we've lost Kamali, then I'm in.

There you go. Right! We're robbing a bank.

It's your town. How do you want to do it?

Well, you know Miguel Gomez already.

Yeah, loves cats and he's great with an RPG.

And this is his brother, Raoul.

He didn't win the Gomez family genetic lottery.

Cocaine addict with a heart condition, but still, thanks to big brother,

president of the Central Stock Exchange.

Stick a gun in his fat gut and he'll walk us through security.

That's your plan? To walk in?

Do we have time to dig a tunnel?

It's Sunday. Minimal bodies on the ground keeps it simple.

Does Raoul have any protection?

- Two bodyguards and a driver. - That's light.

That's 'cause everybody knows who his brother is.

Sundays, he always walks his ugly-ass dog in the Simón Bolívar Park.

Let's just say, for the sake of argument,

that something does actually go wrong and the real police come running.

I'm not shooting some cop just for doing their job.

This is Colombia. The police are never the first people you call.

No. Everyone knows it's the Ghostbusters.

- You're a twat. - You guys talk too much.

Enough. Please.

- Martinez? - Thank you.

If something goes wrong, there'll be a private military response team heading your way.

Just another cartel-owned company.

Now, these boys bust through before the cops even hear about it.

You don't want to fuck with them.

Yeah, well, we won't have to if it goes according to plan.

'Cause it will go according to plan.

It's a bank robbery. They never go wrong, do they?

You took your time.

I've been busy. Keep walking.

You're faintly desperate, but I don't think you're going to shoot me.

Put a bullet through your leg if you try to run again.

I'm flattered you think I could outrun you.

I heard the French were looking for you.

We came to an agreement.

What about you? Section 12?

Twenty.

The bluntest of their instruments. What do you want with me?

Found your name in a book of matches on a man who was trying to kill me.

Ha ha ha ha!

I imagine there's more than one hired killer in Beirut with my name in his pocket.

Did you give me up?

I have enough blood on my conscience. Whoever betrayed you, it wasn't me.

- Hola. - Hola.

I wouldn't, fat man, unless you got a puncture repair kit ready.

You have any idea who I am?

Oh, we know exactly who you are.

Help!

- Come on. Let's take a walk. - Come on.

Damn! You're good.

- Practice. Excuse me. - Ha ha!

I've been tracking Leo Kamali.

Leo Kamali's a property developer.

Kamali is a money man. Without the cash he launders,

al-Zuhari and his followers would be nothing but a bunch of angry Arabs

burning flags outside Western embassies.

Sorry, I can't help you. I'm out of the game.

Bullshit.

You're here, you're in it,

selling whatever information you can dig up to just about anyone who'll pay for it.

Do I disgust you?

Is it my lack of loyalty or honor?

Name one government or nation that has any. Am I supposed to do it on my own?

You helped build this world.

You and your kind.

Oh, I see. I suppose that means you have scruples.

And what would you do to get to the truth you're looking for, eh?

Shoot an old man in the leg?

You know what I see when I look at you, Rachel?

I see a girl who is lost,

on the edge, and you should trust me on this because I've seen it all before.

The same people who sent you out here sent Leatherby out 10 years ago...

You know Leatherby?

What do they say about him?

How do they explain how a soldier of his caliber

suddenly switches sides and works for the enemy?

If you carry on along this path, it'll happen to you.

All I want you to tell me

is whether or not it was al-Zuhari who sent his men to kill me.

Tsk.

That's the wrong question...

Well, why don't you tell me what the right one is?

Six intelligence officers have been killed in the last three months.

Car bombings, kidnappings, assassinations.

This is a systematic cleansing of the closet.

Al-Zuhari is targeting people specifically who are dangerous to him.

People like you.

It's what al-Qaeda did before 9/11.

So something's coming.

What?

A couple of weeks ago,

I heard a whisper about a man looking for intel on Western military bases.

What intel? Which bases?

All of them, everything. Material, personnel, itineraries, schedules.

You know what I asked myself, I said,

"Sebastian, the real value here is not the intel.

"It's knowing who really wants this information."

So I put myself up as a seller. I let it be known that I had what they wanted.

- So what happened? - What happened?

Al-Zuhari's men snatched me off the street, bundled me into the trunk of a car,

and drove me for three hours into the Bekaa Valley to one of their training camps.

You met al-Zuhari? He's here?

Nobody meets him, not anymore.

His people gave me three weeks to deliver.

But you won't.

I can't. I don't have what they want.

But now you know that al-Zuhari is targeting Western military bases.

They'll kill you.

Well, but I've always played by my own rules.

You could run.

Where to? Least I can get a decent game of backgammon here.

Come in with me.

Help us find al-Zuhari's base.

You're a brave thing, aren't you?

I had a daughter...

Shit.

Oh, fuck! Shit!

Ever get that feeling you outstayed your welcome?

Well, he's giving us nothing.

Always was a little heavy on the gas.

Get in.

There's a plane standing by. We're off to Colombia.

Gray is dead.

- He knew that al-Zuhari was up to... - Take a breath, Major.

Debrief in the air.

Don't mention it.

I've always wanted to rob a bank.

It's not a bank, Scott, it's an exchange.

Out, fat man.

I told you there's no money here.

- Yeah, we don't want your money. - No? Then what?

Okay, you need to get him to punch in his security code on the way in.

When you get down to the vault, it's voice recognition.

You put in the code, we're gonna go in. Any fuss, we'll kill you.

What's the fucking number, Humpty Dumpty?

- You think that helps? - Probably not.

It makes me feel good.

- There you go. See? And it works. - There you go. Zero, we're in.

Okay, the vault's down the escalator ahead of you,

and there's one guard at the desk.

You're gonna take that escalator to your right.

Keep moving, fat man.

What are you slowing down for?

All right, voice recognition. Speak.

No.

Come on.

Don't fuck with me, fat man.

Aah!

Speak.

Raoul Gomez.

Heads up.

Turistas.

Hi.

Perhaps I can be of some service to you.

Ah, poquito.

Hmm?

There's no parking here. Move away.

- Sorry, officer. - Got it.

Ha ha ha ha!

Which one's Kamali's?

Kamali's.

I know you know him.

Ah, it's you.

You treacherous fucking whore!

Aah!

Which one's Kamali's?

- Which one? - You don't know him!

If I betray Leo Kamali, not even my brother could protect me.

And you don't know me,

so in 10 seconds, I'm gonna redecorate this vault with 50 shades of gray matter.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six...

- Mike! - Yeah, yeah, I got it.

Aah!

Sorry, mate.

Zero, we've been made.

A guard raised the alarm. How long have we got?

Response time normally four minutes.

Shit.

- All right, where was I? Six, five... - Please.

Four, three, two, one.

Which one was it, huh?

- Ah! - Shit! Whoa, whoa, whoa.

Fuck!

- What the fuck's happening? - You've given him a heart attack.

- I didn't fucking mean it! I didn't mean it! - Yeah.

Oh, no, it's not like he's a likely candidate, is he?

Fuck, Scott! Zero, we've got a little problem with the big guy.

Well, what the fuck happened to Raoul?

All right, he's unconscious.

Zero, can you hack into the exchange's database?

I can't hack in before they come.

He's the only link we have to Kamali.

- Well, then you better wake him up. - Fast.

- You're gonna have to revive him. - Me? Why?

Because you gave him the heart attack!

Yeah, well, I didn't mean to. I did her. It's your turn.

Her, not a 200-pound coke-snorting gorilla with halitosis, Damien.

Queen and country, Michael.

- That's all I'm saying. - Fuck!

You've got a bigger problem than that. X-rays inbound.

Ohh! I'll do it.

Oh, my God, that's disgusting.

I'm trying to initiate hack protocols.

Okay, I've got nothing under "Kamali."

Give me a name, I'll give you a number.

What's his mother's name?

Lisa Cooper. Father, Youssef Kamali.

Negative. No Lisa,

no Cooper, no Youssef.

Come on! Wake up!

Two minutes.

Wait. Ester. Try Ester.

- He likes the name. - You kidding me?

You guys already talked baby names?

Negative.

It has to be.

What does it mean?

Star.

Yep, got it. John Charles Star. 553.

553, 553.

- Right there. - Yep, there it is.

Let's go, buddy.

Be advised, armed APCs arriving, your location.

Come on, Mike.

He's gone.

You kidding me?

One problem at a time. Come on, Michael.

Get out now.

Fucking never goes wrong, does it, Scott? Robbing banks are fucking great!

For fuck's sake, shut up!

- Fuck! Hey! - Fuck it!

- Now, look at that! - Nice.

Bloody hell.

You know, if this soldiering thing doesn't work out, maybe you could be a doctor.

- Thinking about it. - Anything?

Yeah, possibly.

Zero, we're coming out right now.

Roger. Front of the building.

All right, go, go. Ready? Moving.

See you, fat man.

- Zero, I've got visual on you. - Be aware. X-rays in position.

Fuck! Mike, we got a lot of open ground, a lot of numbers.

Let's smoke it up.

In that.

Pop and smoke.

Rebecca, once we go, we got to keep moving.

You copy that?

Yes.

Hey, Damien, move it.

- Move! - Fuck.

Stay down!

Stay down! Stay down!

Fuck. God damn!

Mike!

- Mike! - Yeah!

You all right? Did you get hit? You okay?

- I just bit my fucking tongue! Now move! - Moving! Moving! I'm moving!

Down! Stay the fuck down!

Stay down! Shit!

Get ready to move, Michael!

Mikey!

Go!

Go!

Rebecca, move!

No!

No!

Fuck.

No, no.

No!

No, no, no, no.

No.

Move!

Shh, shh.

Water. Water. Water.

Here. Come on.

- Come on. All right? - No, no.

Water? No, no, no. No. You don't need to do that.

Shh, shh.

- Damien? - Yeah. I'm here.

I can't see.

We got to move!

- I know! - Come on!

Scott, we got to move.

- If you want to bring her, we'll bring her. - She's gone, Mike.

She's gone. Here.

You take this and you find something useful!

- Go! - We're leaving them?

If this gets us to Kamali, that's all that counts.

- Fuck you now! - Move. Let's move!

Fuck.

Get the fuck out of the car! Get the fuck out of here!

Get out! Get out! Move!

Die!

Keep going! Go!

- Zero, we've got X-rays incoming. - Fuck, you kidding me?

Thank you.

Fuck you!

Okay. Move, move! Move!

- Fucking hell. - Mike, nice driving!

Once Kamali knows the vault's been hit, he'll know we're closing in.

Yeah? Just give me a second.

We better find out where Kamali is.

Got it.

Safe houses.

Zero, this is Bravo Team.

Zero, this is Bravo Team. What have you got?

I've got coordinates for three safe houses used by the cartel.

Roger that.

Which one?

You know, Gomez uses construction as a front.

They put money into housing developments.

One safe house is a construction site. That must be it.

Sending the coordinates through now.

Roger that.

Bravo Team, we're heading back to the Crib.

You with me, mate?

Yeah.

- Check this for anything I've missed. - Yes, ma'am.

Sitrep?

Bravo Team has arrived at safe house. No further activity.

Go.

- Is he inside? - Zero, moving in.

Confirm situation on the ground.

Bravo, be advised. X-rays heading in your direction.

Least we know Kamali's here.

Go ahead, bud.

Coming up.

Where's Rebecca?

Your buddy, Gomez, shot her.

I'm sorry.

Scott, outside.

How many?

Uh, too many.

- There's always too many. - Yeah, well, this time, there really is. Shit.

Hands behind your back.

Do you hear me?

Send Kamali out!

Maybe I'll let you live!

You have until I smoke this.

Let me go. Stay here, you die.

- Like Rebecca, for nothing. - Shut the fuck up!

I swear to God, you're gonna die first!

Scott, help me cover these windows.

Coming in.

Fuck.

There, simple.

Zero, we have the asset secure, but we're surrounded.

Fuck it.

I always knew I'd go out like this.

- Really? - Yeah.

- You? - No.

No, I actually thought I'd make it. Pick up my pension, all that.

Get old and shit?

Yeah, get old, bedtime stories for the grandkids,

tell them how great I was before my knees went.

Well, then you'd be lying to them, Michael.

Yeah, well, there is that.

- What about you? - No.

I never saw it like that for me.

Zero, what do you want me to do with the asset?

Here.

Terminate the asset.

Make your peace.

- Now. - You can't shoot me!

- Yeah, I can. - No, you can't.

- Why is that? - Because I'm CIA.

Bullshit. Shoot him.

Vámonos!

Start saying your prayers. They're coming.

I'm a CIA undercover agent.

My codename is Pegasus. My controller is August Van Berg.

I was recruited out of Harvard Business School 15 years ago.

I'm under deep cover to get inside al-Zuhari's network.

Shit. Call Langley. You have contacts there. Call them, ask about Pegasus!

Zero, you getting that?

We're trying to get a line to Langley now, but we need more time.

I'm looking for a handle, Pegasus.

We haven't got time. Do I shoot him or not?

He's a fucking terrorist. Go, shoot him.

Yes, I am, and with Langley behind me, I went right to the fucking top.

I'm inside now, and if you shoot me,

you lose the only hope anyone has of stopping al-Zuhari.

No one is closer than me. No one else's got a fucking chance of finding out the truth.

And he is planning something.

- Something massive. - What's he planning?

- I don't know yet. - How convenient.

But I am close. I need more time.

That's what we're all here for, right? To stop the terror?

You guys, I have seen what you can do, and it's impressive, but I can do more my way.

You just have to trust me.

When that door opens, you are dead. You know it.

But I can get you out of this.

I am the only hope you have of living out this day!

- Untie me and give me your weapons. - Oh, fuck off!

Zero, is he talking shit or not?

I don't know. I'm trying to get through to the right people.

Scott, shoot him. He killed Baxter.

They were torturing him. What else could I do?

Yeah? And Rebecca? Huh?

I wish she hadn't died, but she took the same risks that we all do.

If I'm lying, you die.

If I'm telling the truth, you still die.

Just not today!

I am CIA. You have to trust me.

Negative, negative. There is no Pegasus.

Bravo, be advised. He is not CIA. I repeat, he is not CIA.

You lying mother...

Ohh!

I miss the honesty of day-to-day police work.

Oi. You okay?

Yeah.

- Yeah, you sound like I feel. - Yeah.

I dreamt we were riding bikes through Mexico.

- I can taste margaritas. - That's just the blood in your mouth, mate.

Yeah. Heh!

- A picana. - Aw, shit.

A uniquely South American device,

based upon the cattle prod,

but manufactured specifically for...

- The torture of human beings. - Exactamente, Raoul.

How you doing, Raoul?

Shouldn't you be in the hospital getting a breast reduction, you fat bitch?

And miss this?

High voltage, heh, but low current.

And you think that's gonna make us talk?

You don't think we've trained for this?

No, no, no, no. He talks. You scream.

Yeah. Yeah.

And now you.

- Huh? - Fuck off.

You talk, and your friend doesn't suffer.

Now what are your intentions towards me and my people, hmm?

- Sorry, Mikey. - Yeah, do it. Do it, Scott.

I got nothing but love, man.

Aah!

Look, I know you're British intelligence. Why are you in Colombia?

See, that's where you're wrong, buddy.

I'm not British, and he's certainly not intelligent.

Oh, cheers, yeah. Great, that's fun...

You're a fucking drug dealer. Connect the dots, retard.

- Ha ha! - "Ha ha!"

- Okay, your turn. - No, no, no.

For this one. Heh!

Ha!

I see things between you and my brother have gotten a little personal.

What'd you do that for? You got to ask him a question first!

Because it makes me feel good.

Look, you killed Viktor Ulyanov. Why?

Who?

- Don't touch me! - Michael! Oh!

The son of Arkady Ulyanov, my guest in my fucking house!

I have no idea who you're talking about.

- Mike. - Yeah?

- You can answer a question now, Michael. - Are you wussing out on me now, mate, huh?

Hey!

Hey.

- What did they tell you? - Nothing.

This is not as much fun as we'd hoped, hey, Raoul?

Let's just cut their fucking hands off.

No.

I'll make them talk,

with this.

No, no, no, no, no, not that one.

Don't be foolish. They're valuable.

Let me have them.

Look, they hurt my brother. They killed Viktor.

I'm the one that has to answer to Arkady, not you.

If you fear him more than you fear al-Zuhari, you're making a mistake.

This is my country, Leo. It's my mistake to make.

Yes, it is.

What fucking side are you on, man, huh?

Give me that, you fat fuck!

Mike!

Hey, Miguel.

- Thanks. - You're welcome.

- Get out of here. - What, you're staying?

My cover's still good. The only witnesses are dead.

How about you come back with us

and you explain why nobody at the CIA has ever fucking heard of you?

- That is a great idea, Michael. - Yeah, thanks.

Sorry, fat man.

2010.

A nerve gas attack on an American military base in Doha.

Fourteen servicemen dead.

Al-Zuhari claimed credit.

- Yeah. - You knew?

And yet you did nothing.

Why do you think only 14 people died?

Do you care to tell me why it is exactly

that Langley has no record of you?

How high does your clearance go?

High enough.

Apparently not.

Major Dalton, that's enough.

- What's going on? - Who the hell is this?

Who am I? I'm the Deputy Director of the CIA Counterterrorist Center, August Van Berg!

And this man, this man you've been beating is a hero!

He's an undercover agent!

Why the hell does Langley have no records of him, then?

There are no records of deniable deep cover operations!

You should know that!

What does the CIA think of an inside man

who's helping fund the very terrorism they're trying to put a stop to?

I don't have to justify our actions to you, Major.

- What the fuck are you doing here? - What am I doing now?

Now I'm trying to figure out how to get Leo back into the loop

without him being fucking compromised!

- He's not going back. - Oh, yes, I am!

Al-Zuhari finds out you've taken me, he's gone! He's disappeared!

- He's in a cave for the next three years! - Hang on.

These are not negotiations.

This is me telling you how it is gonna go down!

Let me show you something.

Christ, Leo.

So, this is how it's "gonna go down."

We run your asset, we'll share the intel, or he gets 25 years to life.

You can't use this.

You try me.

You'll destroy a decade of work.

I don't want to destroy anything. I want to use it.

Call it a trade.

You think I can't make a call?

I'll get my bosses to talk to Whitehall.

You and your band of merry men will be pulling sentry duty in the fucking Falklands!

At least you know where you stand with a penguin.

We can't trust him.

You will do as ordered, Major.

Okay.

I understand that you don't trust me. Why should you?

And, if you decide to, then you should know I cannot guarantee you anything.

Al-Zuhari has a mission and he has faith,

and he will sacrifice anyone and everything to achieve his goals.

You, me, anyone.

You must be prepared to do the same.

You have tasted what we must live with every day.

Until your governments withdraw

from all lands where you are unwanted,

we and our brothers from oppressed nations of this Earth

will rain the fire of Allah on your heads.