All language subtitles for The Phoenician Scheme UHD_ENGLISH

Charlie Oboe Seven Sugar,

distress call acknowledged.
Divert to new coordinates.

Heading 2-3-0.
Negative.

Vector 2-3-0. Ascend...
Negative. Negative.

Unable.
Stay on course.

We're only losing altitude
at 50 feet per second.

Let's clear that ridge,
then reassess.

There might be
a more survivable

crash site.

"More survivable crash site"?

I told you. I warned you!!

Wet tarmac, short runway,
25-knot crosswind, lightning!

You disallowed me...

...to complete
a proper safety check

despite credible threats
of sabotage.

You forced me to take off

and needled me and
teased me and bullied me,

but I managed to get
us airborne anyway.

And now, needless to say,
we've been blown up

by somebody trying to
assassinate you again

and we're going to
crash after all.

If we survive
I'm reporting you

to the Trans-European
Aviation Authority.

You're fired.
What's that?

What'd you say? I'm fired?
You're fired.

In the middle of emergency...
Which button activates

the ejector seat?
...forced landing...

Mayday, mayday, mayday!
Charlie Oboe Seven Sugar

request for
immediate clearance.

I've got a cornfield and a...

looks like a soybean field.
Which is going to be softer?

Inconclusive.

Never mind.
I'll be in the cornfield.

At this moment,
rescue workers are laboring

to extinguish
the fiery wreckage

of an ill-fated
dual engine aircraft

in a perhaps futile attempt
to recover and identify

the remains of
Anatole "Zsa-zsa" Korda.

International businessman,

maverick in the fields
of armaments and aviation.

Among the richest men
in Europe.

This was Korda's sixth
recorded airplane crash.

Dogged for years
by accusations

of profiteering...

...lax evasion,
price fixing, bribery,

Korda specialized
in the mediation

of clandestine
trade agreements.

His moniker

in financial circles,
Mr. Five Percent.

He is survived by 10 children.

Nine boys, one novitiate nun,
his daughter, Liesl,

and is predeceased
by three wives.

A controversial figure.

Some will mourn his death,
others, inevitably, will celebrate.

Who was this man?

How do we recognize him?

Does he have
even an identity?

Let us consider
his life and deeds.

Born to an unscrupulous...
Grandmother.

Why are we here?

One half-sister, one half-brother.

He was reared and weaned...

I don't know you.

...in a cold house,

and brought
that cold life...

Captain, what exactly
would Mr. Korda

have experienced during
those final seconds of his life

before he was
incinerated

while you rocketed through
space strapped to a chair,

surely a horrific
display of...

Actually, no,
he's still alive.

Mr. Korda. Sir.

I'm fine.

What's that
in your hand?

I don't know. I think
it's a vestigial organ.

I tried to get it back in,
it's not as easy as it looks.

The chair recognizes the
bureaucrat from Baltimore.

Thank you.

Subject: Zsa-zsa Korda,

our single common enemy who works
consistently and relentlessly

against the interests of
all our competing nations.

The one item only on our
agenda, which unites us.

He swindles our banks.

He dodges our tariffs.

He ties up our courtrooms
in tactical lawsuits.

He provokes war
as well as peace

in direct conflict with our
shared diplomatic agenda.

Subject's new venture
relies heavily

on personal capital and wildly
overreaches liquid resources.

Our objective,
with your approval,

disrupting, obstructing,
impeding,

crippling Korda's enterprise
in any manner possible.

With option to cancel

in event of subject's
sudden and probable death.

-All in favor?
-Aye.

Your bag, Miss Liesl.
I'll put it in the cupboard.

I wish to retain it.
Yes. No, no, I'm keeping it.

I understand.

Be seated.

Liesl, I expect you
received news of my death.

The reports
were inaccurate,

needless to say.

Let me get directly
to the point.

I've appointed you sole
heir to my estate,

which you may come into
sooner rather than later

and provisionally
manager of my affairs

after the event
of my actual demise

on a trial basis.

Why? Why what?

Why sooner rather than later,
since you survived again?

And why am I sole heir
to your estate?

You have eight sons
at last count.

Nine sons. Nine sons.
What about them?

They're not my heirs.
Why not?

I have my reasons.
Which are what?

My reasons?
I'm not saying.

I'm saying
I'm not saying.

It's been six years
since our last meeting.

I apologize.
I apologize.

I forgive you.
Are you dying?

Thank you. No.

But I keep getting assassinated,
unsuccessfully so far,

and I can't allow my enemies
to benefit from killing me.

That's the top priority
in my life at this time.

If they get me,
you get them.

Provisionally.

Like an audition.

Like a trial period.

Of being your daughter.

Of being sole heir
to my estate,

and manager
of my affairs

after the event
of my actual demise.

The personal family aspect,

I agree that merits
further discussion,

but for now
there's much to explain

and it's all
in these shoe boxes.

Korda Land and Sea Phoenician
Infrastructure Scheme.

My most important project
of my lifetime,

30 years' work.

May I move?
Over there?

Over where?

Over there? Why?

They say you murdered
my mother.

What?

They say you murdered my mother.

Who said that?

Who said that?

They. It's what they say.

I feel the need
to address it.

It's why I agreed
to come here today.

"They say that".
Well, it's a...

Forgive me,
I know you're pious.

It's a goddamn lie,

I never murdered
anybody's mother in my life.

Okay. I have no choice
but to take you at your word.

I never personally murdered
anybody at all. Ever.

You arranged
murders, perhaps?

Don't put words
in my mouth.

Of course,
I didn't and don't.

I've employed violent
men to do violence

on occasion
in the distant past.

I take no relish in it.

They say you murdered
all your wives.

I'm going to sue them
for libel in that case.

Whoever "they" are.

If you can provide me
with their identities.

In fact, I was very fond
of your mother

and never would
have murdered her

under any circumstances
whatsoever.

I didn't know
her that well.

I thought you came here
because I summoned you.

My plan is to be a nun.

Not anymore, right?

Your brothers are there.

Jasper, David, Phillip,
Michael, Harry,

Jamie, Samuel,
Steven, Thomas.

Hello, boys.

Will they be joining
us for luncheon?

Of course not.

They live in a dormitory
across the street.

I don't know... I don't know
what they're doing here.

Is today a Saturday?
That might explain it.

I bought Jasper
a crossbow.

Be careful of your eyes.
He's a very good shot.

You understand this
changes your life?

Listen carefully.

This shoe box
contains my idea

for the dam
we're going to build.

This shoe box
contains my idea

for the canal we're in
the middle of digging.

This shoe box
contains my idea

for the tunnel we already
finished drilling.

I think he
sharpens them.

It's supposed to
have a suction cup.

This shirt box contains

my plan to assemble the massive
work force required for the project.

In short, we're going to
need slave labor,

but that's
available to us.

This hatbox contains
my negotiations

with barons in shipping,
mining and railroads.

These littler
sock boxes contain

my agreements
with titans in banking,

real estate,
and black-market syndicates.

Excuse me.

Hello.

Yes.

You're not my heirs!

Who the deuce is that? He's
been eavesdropping on us.

I'm the new tutor.

Ah, of course.

Welcome.

Bring me the polygraph.

I always keep
a tutor on staff

to give lessons during
intervals of my free time.

He's going to teach us about
insects and related subjects.

He's an expert
in that field.

We'll be with you shortly.
This is my daughter, Liesl.

This is Professor...

Bjorn.

Professor Bjorn.

Watch out.

In summation,
the boxes on this carpet

all together present
a blueprint

to set the wheels
of commerce in motion

throughout a potentially
rich, now dormant region.

Then to retain
an appropriate

but extremely valuable
5% of the revenues

for the next 150 years.

This is just...

crazy.

Yes, I admit,
if it works,

it's a miracle.

But it's going to.

What's in the glove box?

That's The GAP.

We'll discuss that later.

You still didn't sign it.

I told you, I take my
vows at the end of the month.

I told you,
unfortunately, no.

The church could claim a
lien on our family business.

You can still
believe in God

if you wish.

The pigeons are there.

Not for me. I take only a few
crusts of bread in the daytime.

How about you?

Me?

I could eat a horse
and easily a pigeon.

You're invited
to lunch in that case.

Oh, thank you, sir.

Point your finger.

Full name?
Bjorn Lund.

Place of birth?
Oslo.

Are you wearing a bow tie?
Yes.

Are you now, or have
you ever been employed

in the conduct
of industrial espionage?

No, no, no.
Or engaged as a professional

contract assassin for hire?
Goodness, no.

Give him
the overcooked one.

Your breadcrusts,
Miss Liesl.

Peace be with you,
Reverend Mother.

I write with
perplexing tidings...

See what I mean?
Poisoned.

Oh, it's poisoned.
Why did it turn black?

My father has appointed
me provisional successor

and prospective beneficiary
of his vast fortune,

gained entirely, as you know,
through unholy mischief.

How will your slaves
be compensated?

I believe they will
receive a small stipend.

It's really up to the king.

We can't interfere
on that level.

God may have something
to say about that.

Is he against slavery
in the Bible?

I'm against it.

What worth is the
pledge of a swindling rogue?

There's a terrible famine
in this region.

This shoe box, I mean.

I know, that's us.

This friendless man
bewilders me.

In what sense that's you?

We... We did that.

Normally, there'd just be the
normal level of poverty there

but presently,
we control the grain.

Now we make our move and we supply
provisions on our own terms.

My word!
Is that ethical?

It's damnable.
To Hell.

Nevertheless, I foresee
an opportunity to accomplish,

by the grace of God,

significant good works
with the enormous resources

he proposes to place
at my disposal.

Memorize this combination. I
can't tell you where the safe is.

That will be in my will.

Perhaps this could
be even his deeper intention.

Where does it come from?

Mexico.

Not the cactus.

I mean this
ruthless brutality.

You don't know me. The
boys live across the street.

There's no love in this
house as far as I can observe.

God is absent.

Why?

I remain profoundly
reluctant to leave the order

and long for the hour
of my return to sanctuary.

I think it's not my fault.

It's a
self-fulfilling prophecy,

which starts in the nursery.

No one cared about or
for me except my nanny.

And she was dismissed
and put to shame.

What for?

She overstepped her
position. It had to be done.

Also, his poor boys,
my brothers,

thirst and hunger
for sisterly affection.

The wings have a scent

which gets on your fingers
if you catch them.

Some smells like lemons.
Some smell like chocolate.

Some smell like urine.

Are you interested
in butterflies?

Is that a real question?

Is this an act?

I'm interested in the
welfare of all living creatures.

Very good.
Very good.

What advice can you
afford your humble servant, me?

She was murdered,
by the way.

Not a suicide,
the official ruling.

I think I know who did it.

But I've tried to
stay out of it, frankly.

The son of my father.

He's the murderer,
I suspect.

The son of your father?
In other words, your brother.

Half-brother.
Uncle Nubar.

He is my mother's murderer?

I suspect.

We always hated
each other, of course,

but we do conduct
business together

through an intermediary

because he's very clever.

"Thou shalt not kill.'
I agree.

We must bring that man to justice
if what you say is true.

Broadcloth,
wake up my notary.

Yes, sir.

Sign the paper in front of you...

and I swear my word
of solemnest honor

we shall bring
ferocious revenge

down upon this
cold-blooded butcher,

your uncle Nubar.

Meaning get him arrested.

I think so.

He is one of our principal
partners, of course.

I'll pray on the matter.

Heavenly Father,
please grant me with some guidance

for this difficult decision.

Amen.

God has called me here
for a purpose.

No slaves, no famine,
no dormitory.

You're on a trial period.

We've annulled your
sacred covenant, Miss Liesl.

A secular rosary
will arrive

from the jeweler
later this afternoon.

I hope you'll find it
to your liking.

PS, how is your rheumatism?

I pray for your
health and comfort.

Jasper.

Bless us and these,
thy holy gifts,

which we are about to
receive, we pray for the poor,

we pray for the sick.
What's this about?

Don't make 'em be religious.
We pray for the needy.

I already did.
We're reading Genesis.

...in thy name. Amen
Amen.

Why would anybody do
something I didn't tell them to do?

Does this soup come
from our usual kitchen?

I feel it tastes better.

It does taste better.

I have a French cook,
you have a Belgian cook.

Yes.

What? What? What?

-What are you afraid of?
-Don't worry.

They eat only
worms and crickets

and sometimes
their own mates.

Are you men or mice?

You should be lions!

No bugs at the table.

I am sorry. Of course.

Yes, sir?

The snails are good.

Thank you, sir.

They're good.

Also, he likes your soup.

Did you eat dinner
with your father

when you were
a little boy?

No.

A new rule.

From this day forward,

you're allowed a maximum
of two authorized friends.

Each of you.
And we're going to make a list.

Nobody not on that list

will be permitted to enter
these premises at any time.

Also a new motto.

"Break, but don't bend."

I didn't know
you live in a slum.

Fix the leak.

Never buy good pictures,

buy masterpieces.

Why do you adopt children
into this madness?

I play the odds.

Of course,
I have my boys

but the adopted ones might
turn out to be better.

This fella could be smarter
than Einstein for all we know.

This is a bashable rivet.

Perhaps the most
effective device

of mechanical hardware
ever conceived

for the purpose
of permanently coupling

two beams, rods,
posts or pillars.

It's the foundation
of modern civil engineering

though its usage, of course,
dates from the Bronze Age.

Regular price,
10 for a nickel.

Wake up. The new plane
is on the tarmac.

-We're leaving in 10 minutes.
-What?

Wake up.
Wait.

Why? Where are we going?

-I'll tell you in the air.
-Tell me now.

-I'll tell you in the car.
-Tell me now.

-Obey me.
-I'm going back to sleep.

It's sabotage.

Look, over the past
50 years,

the market value of bashable
rivets has risen calmly,

measuredly from
three and a quarter

to 27 and a half Yankee
dollars per keg barrel.

Last night,
rivets rocketed to 900.

What does that mean for us?
It means the gap explodes.

There's a run on bolt spikes
and pulverized gravel too.

All category of
construction materials

across the entire
western Near East.

My enemies are manipulating

the markets we manipulated.

-Who's that?
-Arsonists.

I hired them to burn
the house down,

if necessary,
for insurance purposes.

They're just doing
an assessment right now.

That's not my suitcase.

I got you a new one.

The other one wouldn't be
suitable for this voyage.

It looks like
a picnic basket.

Today, tonight
and tomorrow

we'll rendezvous with every
titan in every shoe box

and pretend we agree
what we already agreed,

but in fact, we don't.
We can't.

Somebody's got to
cover the gap.

How much is the gap?

The gap?
The gap is not like that.

Yes, it's partly
a deficit in funding

against our total
projected revenues

but more precariously,
it's a missing slice of a pie

that was baked
too big for the pan.

I mean, the amount.

Everything we got.

Our entire fortune,
plus a little bit more.

Wake up the tutor.

Initial countermeasures rendered

highly effective results
as you can see.

Subject now engaged

in desperate campaign
of clandestine site visits.

Crisscrossing region
to confront

each principal partner
in effort to re-renegotiate

terms of charter agreement
and salvage enterprise

before official signature

signing ceremony end of month.

Also, newly obtained
medical report indicates

subject may be suffering trauma
from blunt force head injury.

Are those screws or bolts?

Possibly both.

Likely accumulated
over several incidents.

What's in
the fruit crate?

Leave that alone.
It's fragile.

What is it?

That? It's fragile.

Leave the fruit crate alone.

But what is it?
Just...

It's hand grenades.
Are you satisfied?

Can you accept now
to be careful around it?

Why are we travelling with
a boxful of hand grenades?

I have extras.
A large number of them.

For me, at this time,

a hand grenade is
cheaper than a bullet.

Do you use them?

That's not really the point.

Point your finger.

You'll be acting as my
administrative secretary

for the time being.

The last one got
blown in two as you know.

Oh, marvelous.

That rucksack,
which you're responsible for

contains all
the liquid currency

to my name at this moment.

Keep it on your person
at all times

and don't lose it.
I'll do my best.

Great Scott!
Look at this one.

Isn't it remarkable how he's
able to hang on at this airspeed?

How does he hang on
at this airspeed?

Should we do a lesson now
or should I talk to you?

I expect you know
about tarsal segments,

the tiny hairs with
claw-like structures

that grip microscopic
irregularities

on an apparently
smooth surface.

But the dragonfly is also
furnished with little pads...

Hold that thought.

...called pulvilli.

When was your
last confession?

-I think I was 14.
-Oh, dear.

Do you still believe in God?

Sadly, no.

Are you an atheist?

I'm a scientist.

You're an atheist.

Are you chaste?

Well, not particularly.

Is that important?

I don't really know.

Are you very,
terribly pure yourself?

Obviously. How can you ask me
such a thing? Look at me.

It wouldn't matter
in the least,

even if you were
the cheapest girl

at the filthiest brothel

in the seediest
red-light district...

Oh, dear.
...on this swirling orb.

Nothing could detract
from your loveliness.

Thank you.

You're welcome.
I speak my heart.

I'm a bohemian.

I thought you were
born in Oslo.

Not literally bohemian.

Actually, I've only been
to one brothel.

It left me cold.

We're starting
our descent.

Prepare your documents
before we deplane

So you never delay
my schedule.

Passports.

Where's yours?

I don't have a passport.

Normal people want
the basic human rights

that accompany citizenship
in any sovereign nation.

I don't.

My legal residence
is a shack in Portugal.

My official domicile is a hut
on the Black Sea.

My certificated abode is a lodge
perched on the edge of a cliff

overlooking the
sub-Saharan rain forest,

accessible only
by goat path.

I don't live anywhere.

I'm not a citizen at all.

I don't need my human rights.

What was that?

I think nothing.

It's the same sound I heard last
time before the plane exploded.

But this time, it didn't.

So, nothing
to worry about.

Myself, I feel
very safe.

You have a long journey,
don't you?

You must find a
suitable place to bury it.

Yes.

I never lost interest
in you, by the way.

I always followed your
progress with great interest.

Followed how? Bjorn!

Where's the rucksack?
In the car.

Followed how?

Well, I generally
kept various operatives

observing your activities,
your report cards,

your medical history, your
personal correspondence,

et cetera. You've been
spying on me all my entire life?

It's not called spying
when you're the parent.

It's called nurturing.

Or at the very least,
interest.

Here comes the prince.

Actually, that's
some other fellows.

I think assassins.

Driver, get
the hand grenades.

Driver!

You armed yourself.
Good girl.

Oh, no, the assassins
shot your driver.

I pledge to
compensate his family

on behalf of the king
who regrets the presence

of devilish brigands
in the imperial realm.

I think I recognize
that assassin.

He used to work
for me maybe.

Who's this?
My daughter, Liesl.

How do you do,
Your Highness?

Oh, she's a bride of
Christ. What a pity.

You may address
me directly.

I beg your pardon.
You're stunning.

Thank you.
They got him

right through the pump.
The driver, I mean.

Poor man. He didn't suffer.
I believe he did suffer.

I brought you a humble
symbol of the gratitude

of my father's people
for your heroic endeavours

toward the prosperity
of our commonwealth.

Another knife.
She's got one, too,

under the habit.
Show him.

Holy moly!
I bought it at the airport.

Help yourself
to a hand grenade.

You're very kind.

How confident are
we in this tunnel?

At the current stage
of construction?

One hundred percent.
Don't be alarmed

by that tremor.
Miss Liesl...

Would you like to
hold my hand?

I was going to suggest
the same thing.

Thank you both.

It's a very good tunnel.

Myself, I feel very safe.

Yes, but you're in
the habit of surviving.

Stop!

I beg your pardon.

Right on schedule.

This is not the document
we agreed to validate.

What? Of course it is.

You've been
fiddling with it!

The deal's already in place.

This is just
a symbolic meeting

to connect the unfinished
tracks. It's a formality.

Not anymore.

Help yourself
to a hand grenade.

Have you been
fiddling with it?

Barely.

Liar! How dare you?
What in the hell

made you think you...
It's not my fault!

Goddamn liar!

Somebody's got to
cover the gap.

Somebody else.

I'll change it back.
We concede the point.

We're walking away.

The resources of
our bountiful treasury

have been acutely depleted
during the drilling of this...

That's not our problem.
It's his. And yours.

Goodbye.

Halt!

Let's resolve it the way
we did in Colorado

with the dispute over
the Fourth Junction claim.

Two on two, first to five.

This puts us at
a spectacular disadvantage.

I've never played
the game in my life.

I don't even know
the regulations.

We're the underdog, yes.

I still like our chances.

Basketball, by the way,
is their greatest strength

but it's their
greatest weakness.

Two beers, please.

Uh, not for me.

I've never tasted hard liquor in
my life, except Communion wine.

Communion...
That is not hard liquor.

Anyway, on a hot day in a
dark tunnel, beer's delicious.

You should drink this.

Okay. Two beers.

-Call it.
-Heads.

Heads.

One zip.

A respectable attempt.

Classic backhand layup.

I beg your pardon?

I didn't say anything.

Did you hear what
Mr. Reagan just spoke to me?

When he refers to my mother,
he refers to the sovereign queen

of a population
of 10 million loyal subjects.

He didn't say anything
about the sovereign queen.

Don't listen to that. He's
trying to get in your head.

Just play your game, Farouk,

if I may call you
that, Your Highness.

I don't know how
to play my game.

It's utterly foreign to me.

You're good.

I'm not good!

Two zip.

Does that count?

It doesn't count, but I've
never seen it done before.

You've got to bounce it
when you move.

That's a rule
I should've mentioned.

How well do you know him?

How well do I know...
Anatole Korda.

Zsa-zsa. Your father.

Not well.
Mostly by reputation.

I see.

What's your directive
in that case, here?

My directive?
If you have one.

I would say, I think,
to prove himself to me.

Also, the other way around.

Am I prying?

Are you prying?
Maybe. Half and half.

Prying, and for
selfish reasons,

genuinely concerned
for your future welfare.

Double hop back jump shot.

What's it like...
I wonder.

...plummeting to
Earth on fire?

How many times?
Six so far.

Yikes.
Sportsmanship, gentlemen.

-Part of the game.
-Nothing personal.

Get it right this time,
you twerp.

Could you imagine falling
in love with a man like me,

by the way?
Hypothetically.

You're drunk.
On three beers.

I think I mean it
as a genuine question.

Sisters of the cloth
do not engage

in romantic behavior
of any kind.

Oh, really?
It's a vow.

In that case, stop flirting
with the prince!

Besides, I thought,
you're not a nun anymore.

You're a business lady.

Is this an act?

You asked me that before.

I don't know what
you're talking about.

Left-handed blind man
over-the-shoulder swoop.

That was the worst plane
crash I ever survived in my life.

I think I died actually,

for about a minute
and a half.

It's coming back now.

-What's going on?
-I don't know.

Did we give up?

Just, sir Zsa-zsa, as
you say, play your game.

I'm not really
a sportsman.

I'm more interested
in gardening, for instance.

My enemies are everywhere.

I'd like my daughter
to come to me.

She's drinking beer
in the dining car

with your
administrative secretary.

Fetch the nun.

He's actually a tutor.

Insects and related subjects.

Sorry for my bad manners.
The beers were too strong.

Hush.

I was present
at your birth.

The midwife was
a leathery old hag.

I cut the umbilical cord with
hedge clippers of my own design.

I was very fond
of your mother

and never
would've murdered her

under any circumstances
whatsoever.

How'd you get
so religious?

My surviving
parent sent me

to live in a convent
at age five.

To keep you away from boys.

Didn't expect you
to get brainwashed.

You're the only child I did wish
to try to be a proper father to.

But it wasn't possible.

You're named
for my grandmother.

She didn't recognize me.

Is this typical of him? In
my experience? Not at all.

Normally, I'd say
he's the shrewdest,

most resourceful
businessman alive.

Hal

One last shot.

From the end
of the train tracks.

If Farouk succeeds,
the deal proceeds according

to the original document
before I fiddled with it.

But you cover 10% of the
gap and I swear my word

of solemnest honor...
Skip it.

Me? You.

He misses,

there's half a million Swiss
francs in that rucksack.

It's yours.

The rucksack.

Okay, Farouk, if I may call
you that, Your Highness, take the shot.

Is it acceptable for me to
propel the ball in this manner?

We knew your mother.

One moment.

Dear merciful and heavenly Father,

please grant us
good luck and fortune

in the circumstance
of my father's

business dealings
with the Sacramento...

Good husband,

what tribute is this?

Money.

She's not your daughter.

You do have my eyes.

Do people not
tell you that?

Nobody ever told me
I have anybody's anything.

I think I see it.

Except yours aren't blue.

What's that?

I don't know.
Go find out.

He has my eyes, too.

Uncle Nubar.

He's not human.

He's biblical.

What did you
pray specifically?

To get Prince Farouk
to make that impossible granny shot?

Even as an atheist
without God's will,

he would've botched it
by a mile.

It's not witchcraft.

The phrasing of it, which I
don't recall, doesn't matter.

What matters is the
sincerity of your devotion.

That's it.

That's what?
No, that's it.

What?

That's it.

The pilot says you got
a telephone call.

On an airplane.
Who is it?

A mister
Savarin-Montrachet.

Marseille Bob.

Hello, hello.

Did you just tell
Marseille Bob

the Sacramento Consortium
agreed to cover the gap?

"All of it," you said.

I speak French. Of course,
you're fiddling with it again.

Okay, yes, but I'm doing
a strategy. Listen carefully.

Is this supposed
to be here?

It was under
the lunch trolley.

Oh, dear.
How much time does it say?

Eighteen minutes.

Perfectly fine.
We land in 10.

Myself,
I feel very safe.

One, two, three.

I've arranged
a light supper in the meantime.

Help yourself
to a hand grenade.

You're very kind. May I offer
you a champagne cocktail?

Not for me.

I've never tasted hard
liquor in my life except beer

and communion wine.

That's not hard liquor.
It's a delicious concoction

with cherries
and a sugar cube.

Okay. Two champagne cocktails.

I knew your mother.

Who's this for?
What's this?

-You don't know?
-No.

I recognize your handwriting.

This is you?

Obviously, the Sacramento
Consortium refused to cover the gap

and you're trying to
secretly blackmail me

to salvage the agreement.

Actually, I suppose
it's extortion, it's so crude.

You've been fiddling with it.

That's absurd.
It's far-fetched.

Where do you get
such suspicious ideas?

It's very French. How could we
know you were going to receive

an anonymous letter
in the middle of a...

Nothing you say
will convince me.

I'm absolutely,
unflinchingly certain

you are responsible for this,
as you say, anonymous letter.

If you deny it again,
I'm throwing you out.

Is that a threat?

Somebody's got to cover the gap.
It's sabotage!

The bashable rivet's
not my fault.

Somebody's manipulating...
The markets were manipulated.

Well, anyway, you're wrong
about my handwriting.

Bjorn redrafted it.
Why'd you just do that?

You just
admitted everything

after swearing us to never
reveal your deceitfulness

even under pain of torture
for the rest of our lives.

You call that a strategy?
He doesn't fall for it.

They cover 10%,
plus Farouk another five.

What's become of you?

Too many airplane crashes,
I think.

I'm walking away.
One taxi.

I'll change it back.
We concede the point.

-Too late.
-No, no.

I'll change it back.
We concede the point.

Still too late.
No, no, no, no.

I'll change it back.

We concede the point.

What was that?

This is a robbery on
behalf of the Jungle Unit

of the Intercontinental
Radical Freedom Militia Corps.

All money, jewels and
watches into the bags, please.

We're outgunned.

Who are they? I don't
know these terrorists.

Must come from out of town.

The proceeds of this
seizure will benefit

not only the administrative
activity of our organization,

but also orphans
and widows,

the blind, the sick,
the wounded,

farmers, teachers
and the construction

of hygienic waste water
disposal systems.

Why is he shooting my ceiling?

Just rob my customers
and make your getaway.

Bjorn, get the
hand grenades. No.

None of the funds generated

by the sale of your property
will be squandered.

These pamphlets
articulate our policies.

It's too much.

Why are you shooting
my ceiling?

This is a robbery on
behalf of the Jungle Unit...

No, no, I understand that.
I'm asking about my ceiling.

You idiots are destroying
a magnificent nightclub.

Grab the loot and get out!

Let's communicate.

He took a bullet for me?

I took a bullet for you.

I'm aware of that. I withessed
the event. Where's the wound?

Right here where the blood
is gushing out of me.

Okay.

It's not too bad,
actually.

I think your diplomatic
credentials slowed it down.

Excuse us for that
needless violence.

Did they shoot you?
They shot me,

but your father did
something heroic, I suppose.

It should have been
him, actually.

Pluck it out.

Me?

Go ahead.

The meeting's at midnight.

Are you still
walking away?

How can I, now?

Two taxis.

Don't mention anything.

To Marty about the gap.
Just pretend our job is

building trust
and cementing it.

Where's the rucksack?

I shouldn't keep it
in the taxi.

Any of you folks allergic
to powdered insecticides?

Of course not.

Any of you folks bearing
firearms or other weapons

on your person?
I carry a dagger.

May I ask the purpose
of the hand grenades

you folks brought onboard?

It's a gift, I think.
He has extras.

Do I need
a blood transfusion?

Come in. Good to see you, man.

Come in. Hi.
How are you, man?

Come in.
Hiya. Hiya.

-Come in.
-I've been shot,

but my diplomatic
credentials slowed it down.

This is my daughter, Liesl.

Do you need
a blood transfusion?

I'm O-negative,
universal donor,

if that's what you're
looking for. Who shot him?

Terrorists from out of town.
Jeez, man.

You shoot them back?
Not yet.

This is Professor Bjorn,
my administrative secretary.

Welcome aboard. Make yourself
at home, man. Have a seat.

You sit there, you
sit there, you sit there,

you sit there,
I sit here.

Don't ask me
to cover the gap, man.

I know about
the bashable rivets.

Oh, of course not. This
is just a symbolic meeting.

It's a formality.
Give me a pretzel.

Certainly. Help yourself

to a hand grenade.
You're very kind.

Damn it!

I woke up

in the middle of the night
to a commotion downstairs.

Shouts and slams
and breaking glass.

A shriek like a cat
trapped in a cupboard.

I got up and snuck out through
the hatch in the upstairs scullery.

They locked me in at night.

I slid down
the spiral banister.

Deadstock didn't see me,
the under butler at the time.

I walked down the long
front room gallery,

Bun-Bun in one hand,
Mousey in the other.

The grandfather clock
chimed 3:00 a.m.

The door opened and my
father stepped out into the light.

He was wearing white pajamas
and a white dressing gown.

His face was covered with
cuts from a plane crash as usual.

His hair was wild.

"Go to bed," you said.

"Where's Mama?" I said.

"Asleep," you said.

But it wasn't true.
She was there.

Standing in the reflection
in the mirror

in the doorway behind you
at the back of the room.

She had on gloves
and a coat.

Her blouse was unbuttoned.
Her breasts were naked.

"Your mother won't be living
with us anymore," you said.

"Go to bed."

I walked in reverse
to the stairs, then I ran.

They sent me away
in the spring.

Objection, Your Honors.

That's such a distorted
version of the story.

It's told from
a child's point of view,

which is forgivable,
but maddening.

I never saw her again.

I'm not on trial here, am I?

I'm going to confess
something terrible

which you may
never forgive me.

Take five, man.

The reason I know who killed
your mother, which I didn't do,

is because I did do
something else,

which maybe
caused it to happen.

Your mother wasn't
a nun like you.

She took lovers.

One... One was
your Uncle Nubar.

I profoundly resented
this insult

in spite of
my own infidelities

and I tricked him,
not in my own handwriting,

into thinking your mother was
betraying him behind his back

with my administrative
secretary at that time.

The result, he murdered
them both, I think.

Did you love her?

I was very fond of her. No.

We must bring
that man to justice.

Meaning, get him arrested
if what you say is true.

I swear my word
of solemnest honor.

Oh, skip it.
| apologize.

I forgive you.

Just like that?

That was my confession
of something terrible.

I told a poisonous lie
and your mother's dead.

I always expected
the worst from you.

I forgive you.
We're taught to.

We can no longer honor

the precise terms
we agreed to validate.

This document outlines
our revised proposal.

That's enough blood, man.

How dare you!
How dare you, you liar!

Somebody's got to
cover the gap.

What in the hell made
you think you had the gall

and the guts to get
away with anything.

But wait. No!

It's sabotage! It's not my fault!

I know about the bashable rivets.

I told you so!
It's the bashable rivets.

Prince Farouk and
his father covered 5%.

The Sacramento Brothers
covered 10.

Marseille Bob
agreed to 15.

You're the richest, 25.

Why would I do that?

We made an airtight,
legally binding contract.

No, I said 12.5.

Fifteen because I took
a bullet for you.

Why? It's because
if you don't,

I refuse to put
the pin back in.

A very live hand grenade.

It's a great scheme,
which, if it works is going to benefit

all our partners
for generations to come

and we're privileged to thank
you for your participation.

Liesl, out.

I'm not leaving the room so you can
hand grenade yourself as a business tactic.

You asked me my strategy.
This is my strategy.

Will it work?

Not with my daughter in range
of the shrapnel, it won't.

Liesl, out.
You should go.

You should go.

Why wouldn't I just say yes
now and betray you later?

You're putting a hand
grenade to my head.

I trust you.

I think I trust you,
too, in return.

Not to tell the truth or
keep your word, obviously,

but I suppose I'm moved
by this absurd performance.

I'll pitch in, man. 20%.

Sharply compromising
my chances of profitability

in an already extremely
high-risk venture.

Just to watch you conduct
the grand finale.

Thank you for the blood.

You're welcome.

Intercepted message
from subject in transit

suggests possible
strategic merger

with House of Sussman-Korda.

Also, encrypted dispatch
from undercover operative

reports as follows...

"Target's resources
continue to dwindle

"as partners grow dubious
and bewildered."

"Target repeatedly places
significant cash funds

"directly into operative's
personal possession.

"Tried to misplace, however,

"operative does not have heart
to steal or destroy.

"Too cruel
under circumstances.”

I'll debate that with him.

"Further, target has appointed
daughter his official successor.

"Currently, a nun.

"Not for long, I hope."

Should I be kneeling?

The only terms I dictate IS our
marriage on a statutory basis,

would have to be
a purely romantic union.

I'm obliged to keep my
daughter sole heir to my estate.

My father and his father,
your grandfather, I mean,

nearly killed each other.

Maybe you know
that, do you?

No. I'm new
to my family.

Best friends, whatever
it means in their case,

they went into
business together,

formulated a very
effective poison gas,

killed tens of
thousands of soldiers,

made tens of
millions of dollars.

One day in
their laboratory,

a heated argument erupted
into a slugging match.

They attacked each other

with lethal measures of an
experimental, new version

of their
weaponized aerosol

which fortunately turned
out to be less effective

than the original compound.

Both survived,

but that was the end
of their partnership.

I asked my father
40 years later,

nearly on his deathbed
still suffering

minor neural effects
from the incident,

"What was the argument about?"

You know what he said?

"Who could lick who, I guess.

"Or whom."

That, maybe, is the source of most
of our problems on this barren earth.

"Who could lick who
or whom, I guess."

"If something gets in
your way, flatten it."

That was my father's advice
before he cut me out of his will.

He asked to be mummified
and buried in a pyramid.

We bought the land
and drew up the plans,

but never built it.

We had him
cremated instead.

Nothing he can do about it.

-Is this paste?
-Of course.

It's a proxy
for the real one

which I'm unable
to pay for at this time.

If you care to advance me
a portion of the funds,

I'm more than...
I'm not paying for anything.

I authorize a 150-year lease
on the property and water rights.

Maybe I might consider
briefly marrying you

as an experience,
like a chapter in a book,

depending on the advice
of my tax attorney,

but I'm not going to
help you cover the gap.

It's against the interest
of my utopian outpost.

I'm not asking you.

I'm telling you as your
potential future husband.

No.

I'm not asking you.

I'm begging you as your
favorite second cousin.

No.

Obey me.

Why?

If she does marry me,

I'm not sure we can't
compel her to cover the gap,

depending on the jurisdiction
where the wedding takes place.

Do you believe
the official ruling

my mother's death
was caused by suicide?

No.

Who murdered her
then in that case?

In your opinion.

I only know
what they say.

Is my uncle my father?

The diplomatic
pouch arrived.

Open it.

"List of contents.

"One, fresh socks, 10 pairs.

"Two, a book.

"Fleas of the Americas
by Karlsen and Voit.

"Three, financial reports

"for review.

"Four, bills to be paid.

"Five,

"emergency directive, urgent.

"Six, fresh handkerchiefs,
a bundle."

Go back to five.

Ah, yes, might be
important, looks like.

Bring it to me.

It's sabotage again.

Give this to the pilot.
New flight plan.

-Where are we going?
-Home.

A parliamentary motion
just passed

intended to thwart
me specifically.

I need to be there with the
notary by noon tomorrow.

What happens if you don't?

I become an English subject.

Then they seize
our worldwide assets,

extradite me,
and send me to prison.

Got it.

This is for you.

Happy birthday.

How old are you?

Twenty-one.

We can't read your
handwriting.

Is this a one or a seven?

It's... Goddamn it!

It's a G.

He's been fiddling with it.

What?

You're tapping
in Morse code.

Am I? Was I?

I didn't notice.
How strange.

He's been

fiddling with it.

You speak Morse code.

No, no, not fluently.
I learnt it as a school boy.

You speak Morse code.

I'm the librarian of our
back at the convent

collection of classical
Latin scrolls and codices.

I do deciphering.
Fascinating.

Golly!
Oh, dear.

Somebody poisoned his beer.
We should have tested it.

You let him
drink in the cockpit?

Just beer.

Stand back and hang on.

Why am I up here being
stalked by a fighter jet?

I have a vocation.

I think I recognize
that assassin, too.

He used to work
for me also.

I'm disinheriting
myself from you.

What a terrible thing
to say to a father.

Especially during
your trial period.

Good heavens, he's back!

Next time he strafes us,
peg him with a hand grenade.

It is an act.

I bear no hostility towards
your father or his interests.

Your father, however,
on occasion,

bears decisive hostility to
the United States government

and its allies
and enemies.

It's my job to observe,

report and maintain...
You're a spy.

Well, it's an interesting
story, I suppose.

After the war,
my own primary interests

are very similar
to the persona

I present to you
as Professor Bjorn.

I completed my studies at
Princeton and helped establish

an expatriate
scientific journal

publishing poetry, drawing
and ecological prose.

Eventually, our government
offered to subsidize the magazine

in an effort to promote
American cultural interests.

But really,
they just wanted us all

to become
intelligence operatives.

I hope you don't
feel betrayed.

I could go ahead
and turn back into

my normal self right now,
if you like.

It's not that different from
how you've seen me already.

See what I mean?
Basically the same person.

No. You're different.

I'm not actually
a bohemian,

I'm a moderate
conservative, politically.

Also, I'm not from Oslo.

I'm from
Wilmington, Delaware.

Also, I know how to drink,

although I do find I'm less
inhibited when I pretend to be drunk.

Also, I wrote that book.

I was going to
recommend it to us.

Is that a fake moustache?

No. Yes.

Based on my real one,
which I usually have.

I do feel betrayed.

Me, too.

You lunatic!

I feel deeply
terrible about this.

You employed me in good
faith to teach you about insects.

This is a wonderful setting
for us to continue our lessons.

I've never seen so many
bugs in one place in all my life.

With the possible exception
of a garbage dump near Rome,

which was
equally breathtaking.

Why'd you ask if I could
imagine falling in love

with a man like you?

-Hypothetically.
-Yes.

-Was it part of your mission?
-No.

It wasn't part
of my anything.

I might justify it as trying to
infiltrate your family business.

But to tell you
the truth,

I still mean it
as a genuine question.

Both as Professor Bjorn
and as Agent Karlsen

of the Covert North American...

Then don't help me!

Don't help me.

Wrap this around
a tree trunk.

I may go under for a moment,
but I'll save him.

No, you won't.
I'll save myself myself.

Bless us and these
thy holy gifts which

we are about to receive...
What's this about?

...through thy
merciful bounty.

We humble ourselves meekly...
Dost thou not fear God?

...before thee
in thy name. Amen.

-Amen.
-Amen.

Are you against
slavery in the Bible?

It's damnable to Hell.

I believe they receive
a small stipend.

The yield of Adam's loins

crucified my only
begotten son.

I know, I know.

Jesus.

I'm not dead yet.

Why didn't you let me sink?
It's redundant.

Bjorn: Our mission is
strictly dedicated

to sabotaging your
business interests.

We never resort to
extralegal violence.

I'm not gullible.

I'm aware of that.

What's the idea?

To demolish your enterprise
and pillage all its assets.

That was horrible.
I'll never forget it.

I'll feel the traumatic
effect on myself

until the day I die.

Really?

I don't know if I feel
terrible or flattered, or both.

Like maybe I matter.

What did they do to you?
Our family?

I'm sorry I frightened you.
It won't happen again.

How'd you pass
my polygraph?

We're taught to.
It's not difficult.

-You do karate?
-Of course.

I'll teach you if you like.

No. It's too late.

I don't know how many
more times I can die.

These filthy books
should all be burned.

Except this one.

It's sacrilegious,
but it speaks to me.

Keep it. It's yours.
Open your birthday present.

I love it.

It's a beautiful piece.

What's your real first name,
Agent Karlsen?

I'm happy to
just go by Bjorn.

My only pleasant memories
of a miserable childhood,

take place below stairs.

I was allowed to dine with the
household staff once a week.

They pretended to love me.

What choice
did they have?

To this day, I'm a very
good cook and dishwasher.

6:15, the cock crows.

The robin brings
worms to its chicks

in the nest on
my windowsill.

Sister Mary pumps
the water pump at 7:00.

The bell rings
for morning prayers.

The shape of the day each
day is exactly the same.

We like it that way.

As a little boy, I kept fleas
in plastic bags in my bedroom

and did my morphology
and microscopy at night.

I lived with
my mother's sister.

My parents conducted
their research abroad.

Aunt Beth was very kind, but she
never approved of my practices.

The house was regularly fumigated,

resulting in a great
loss of specimens.

And later out of jealousy and
loneliness that I betrayed them,

the kitchen staff...

I told my father the truth.
They steal.

I thought I would
become his ally,

instead he gave me
a tremendous beating

and didn't speak a word
to me for 90 days.

He fired them all,
just the same.

I'm going back
to the sisters.

No, you don't. How can
you? We're marooned.

Besides, you're my sole heir.

On a trial basis.

That's finished.
You're hired.

I don't forgive you after all,
I'm ashamed to say.

Plus we got to get revenge
on your Uncle Nubar.

Or bring him to justice
if you prefer.

I'll leave that to you
and your conscience.

I don't have one.

Plus, what about the poor
slaves and the famine?

I'm going back
to the sisters.

To pray and study
and work diligently

to overcome my weaknesses
of character

which are probably genetic.

In other words,
it's all my fault again.

You can burn the house down
after all, if we survive.

There you are.

Hello again, here in
the middle of the jungle.

How extraordinary to stumble
across your crash site, I gather.

Hello, hello, hello.

I'm not a businessman.
On the contrary,

I'm a communist
revolutionary, heavily armed

and living in a secret
jungle encampment

with a band of
freedom fighters.

However, even I can see
your plan on its surface

defies the basic laws
of economics.

That's why it's never
been done before.

My plan defies everything!

What's your connection
to the company?

Me? I pretend to be his administrative
secretary, but really, I'm the tutor.

But actually, in fact, I'm a spy
for the United States government.

Religion is the sigh
of the oppressed creature.

It's a protest
against suffering.

I agree!

You're not an atheist.

Of course I am.

Some of my colleagues,
however, only claim to be.

I had a private army once.
Big headache.

Fifteen minutes to spare.
Where's my notary?

We need fingerprints
and signatures.

You're all
official witnesses.

-Mother Superior.
-Including the terrorists.

Peace be with you, my child.

A fighter jet shot us
down in the jungle.

By the grace of God,
we survived.

You received my letter?

Yes. I wrote you back.

I am prepared
to take my vows.

Read the letter first.

We received a marriage license
and antenuptial contract.

I assume you're aware
of the proposal.

I didn't know
she says yes.

You're very pious, Sister Liesl,

but you're not plain.

The stones on your pipe,
for instance.

Not to mention

the opulence
of your rosary.

And this
astonishing dagger.

A gift from a prince.

Mother Superior,
you reproach me

when I most require
your trust and guidance.

Worldly adornments do serve
certain good people for the good.

We're not all destined to deny
ourselves man's earthly pleasures.

Some thrive in
tranquil simplicity.

Others find beauty in color,
splendor, and jubilation.

This is no reproach,
my child.

You are a rich girl,
always were.

Of course, we would
continue to cherish

your ongoing patronage
of the abbey.

You just won't be
a nun anymore.

Is God more interested
in my money or my soul?

I can't speak for Him.

Maybe I can assist
in this area

both as a father
and as an expert mediator.

I gather
you kicked her out.

I'm urging Liesl to return to
her family and greater society.

Mother Superior
still wants us to fund

construction of
the new refectory.

With gratitude.
Of course.

Are you authorized,
by the way,

to do a baptizing if somebody
wants to be Catholic? Me.

You're an atheist.

I feel I have a religious
awakening now,

if that's what
we call it.

Tell me how this
awakening came to pass.

Well, I would say, partly, it's
because of my near-death episodes.

I get a kind of visions.

Never mind the details.

Then, partly, there was
a fiduciary benefit.

And mostly, and I would weight
this factor up to maybe 75%

is simply the influence
of my daughter's influence,

which has a profound
effect on me.

And I think, at my age,
in the end, finally,

it's better I just
go on her side.

The point is to be delivered
from sin and purified.

It doesn't work
if you're lying.

I'm not lying.

I'm capable of and willing
to genuinely believe

in the opposite of
my personal convictions.

I can do that in certain situations.

You remember
the combination?

Another shoe box?

This one's older.

What's inside?
I don't know.

Supposedly, a reliquary
of our family history

sealed half a score ago
by my father's notary.

I willed it to you, but
since we're here, take it.

I'll open it later.

My great-grandfather
built the hotel.

Liesl would have been the
fifth-generation proprietor

except my father sold it to
an American conglomerate

who ruined it,
of course.

The venue is situated
on a precarious border

among three fiefdoms, two of
which remain under martial law

after a military coup.

In exchange for me allowing
you to steal the painting

rolled up in
that shipping tube,

you and your terrorists
provide security services

to our entire party
throughout the event.

Ah, they stole
the painting.

You'll officiate.

It's good timing
in a business sense.

Function hall number five
has been duly sanctioned

in accordance with the laws of
this territory for a civil ceremony...

Even an immediate
divorce might bear a profit.

Grazie, ciao.

-You reach him?
-Yes.

His Holiness refuses to
cover the Gap. Any of it.

I know Felix. He's stubborn.

We'll need to
sweeten the pot.

Tell him I offer nine more souls.

Are you still an enemy spy?

At the moment, no.

I thought I might be more
useful as a double agent.

I couldn't pay you
any extra.

Oh, no. Naturally, it would
be included in my tutorial fees.

My operational handler,
code name Excalibur.

Agent Karlsen.
Excalibur.

I know about
the bashable rivets

and the bolts, spikes
and pulverized gravel, too.

This office can neither confirm
nor deny any such knowledge.

Nor would it elect to
acknowledge said knowledge

if it did in fact...
It's sabotage!

I swear my word
of solemnest honor,

I'll never let you win.

I've arranged for you

to accuse him in person, by
the way, your Uncle Nubar.

-Really?
-Of course.

It's crucial we confront
this unspeakable evil.

Amen.

Also, it's even
more crucial we secure

his financial
investment position.

As you know, I'd never
admit the possibility

of and even avoid
the word failure.

Maybe that's a weakness.

On the other hand, we're
only missing one slice of the pie

that was baked
too big for the...

Just a dud.
Just a dud.

Myself, I feel very safe.

Sir Nubar has arrived.

Off the record,

the Gap might be bottomless,
closer to an abyss.

In fact, there is
even more to it now,

a further dimension than
I previously anticipated.

The emotional gap.
If it turn...

You used to work for me.

Who? Him? Who?

I'm sorry. Me? No.

I was in disguise.

Oh, Doctor Lanzmann.

I recognize this assassin.

Who hired you to kill me?

Oh, no.

Suicide pill.

Father...

If it turns out
you're not my daughter,

can I adopt you?

With your permission.

Yes.

Well, in that case,
whatever happens,

we'll be fine.

Restate the purpose
of this visit.

Exactly as we agreed,
my dear Nubar,

the validation of
your proprietary shares

after 55% advance
against the interim shortfall.

This is just a symbolic
meeting. It's a formality.

Liesl has
additional objectives,

of course,
as you're aware.

My father promised
to arrange for me

to accuse you in person.
That's what I'm here to do.

Why would I murder her?
She wasn't my wife.

Help yourself
to a hand grenade.

Oh, you're very kind.
I have my own.

What's your blood type, Liesl?

I don't know.

They never tested
it to my knowledge.

You have my eyes.

Do people not
tell you that?

Nobody ever told her she
has anybody's anything.

I'll wait outside.

She's not your daughter.

I don't care.

One thing you'll never know
because you can't.

The truth.

Although in my opinion,
it was probably your

administrative secretary
at that time.

He's the father.

Actually, I think
I know it for a fact.

I'm astonished
you didn't see it already.

And if I did kill him,
I'd never admit it.

I invented that lie

-to trick you.
-Of course you did,

but it was true.

The blood types
prove it. Probably.

You've got my blood?
And hers?

I've got everybody's blood.

-No, you don't.
-Yes, I do.

-No, you don't.
-Of course, I do.

No, you don't.

They say you murdered
all your wives.

Wait.

I'm putting this on
just so I don't lie.

I didn't murder that wife,
your mother, or any other.

I would even go so far as
to say I'm incapable of it.

Whatever "they"
say about me

behind my back, whoever
"they" are.

I wasn't taught to either.

To beat the polygraph.

Where did he come from?

I can't remember.

I'll open the shoe box.

My father on his birthday.

My uncle. All A's.

My mother
on her wedding day.

A carton of six poison
gas ampoules.

A rare stamp, a gold coin,

a skeleton key...

secret letters...

my grandfather.

Some of him, just ashes.

I'll take one.

It's a staggeringly
ambitious project

but situated entirely
in a perpetual war zone.

For the next 150 years,

I'd rather sell guns,
bombs, and ammunition.

It's our family business.

My no is final.

You're pulling out
your entire investment

and breaking
your promise to me.

Stabbing everybody all at
once simultaneously in the back.

Yes.

Why'd you come here,
in that case?

I couldn't resist.

It's me.
I'll cover the Gap.

Everything we got, our entire
fortune, plus a little bit more.

I proceed as
a silent partner,

taking a complete loss
of all my assets

with no opportunity
for any future upside.

And I'm still on the hook for
unlimited debts and deficits.

Fine. I'll do it.

Fine. I'll do it.

The slaves will be paid.

The slaves will be paid.

The famine will be finished.

The famine will be finished.

We'll beat those bureaucrats.

We'll beat those bureaucrats.

And my most important project
of my lifetime comes to pass.

Without us.

I don't want a fortune.

I present to you
now at this time,

the first
symbolic demonstration

of our abundant
desert harvest,

born from deep within
the Earth's rich elemental...

Sir Nubar asks
for another word.

Oh, shit.

I'll be right back.

Yes, my dear Nubar,
how can I assist you?

I've changed my mind.
I'll do it myself.

Stupendous! I knew it.

No, not the business deal.
My no is final.

I mean your assassination.

So, it is you, the enemy
trying to murder me all along.

Yeah.

The son of my father,
my own half-brother.

Yeah.

I've got
everybody's blood.

-No, you don't.
-Yes, I do.

-No, you don't.
-Yes, I do.

I won't die.

I never do.

You're worse than me.

You're not human.
You're biblical.

Can't you stop?
Can't you leave me alone?

Why do you need to always

keep assassinating
me all the time?

You know the answer.
I don't need to say it.

"Who could lick whom,
I guess.”

Let's communicate.

When I pray,
no one answers.

I only pretend He does.

Then I do whatever I think God

probably would have suggested.

Usually, it's obvious.

Amen.

Peace be with you,
Reverend Mother.

"Chapter One. Cedric
himself knew nothing..."

Our new quarters, though modest,
cramped, meager and shabby

are nevertheless
charming and versatile.

"But then his papa had
died when he was a little boy."

The boys, to my delight, finally
begin to thrive and flourish.

I do serve a purpose here.

"Since his papa's death, Cedric
had found out that it was best..."

Agent Karlsen resigned
as a double agent

and accepted a staff position
at our local grammar school.

Predators, much like our friend,
the plebius beetle,

who has a similar
kind of casing

and he doesn't mind
predators at all.

My stepmother annulled

her brief union
with my father.

And one and two
and three and four.

My father's entrepreneurial

energies remain
robustly invigorated

by the austerity
of our poverty.

Tell him he's welcome,
but don't let him leave.

I do admire his resilience
and ambition.

Though I don't believe
these come from God.

The Phoenician Scheme
continues to deepen and widen.

It may be a sizable step
backwards for civilization.

But it will produce some
good works, I'm sure of it.

Could you imagine
marrying a man like me?

I mean it
as a genuine question.

Is that paste?

No. Yes. I think so.
I don't know.

It's the same one.
Cousin Hilda sent it back.

I asked your father
for his consent,

and he loaned it to me
to give to you.

PS, to this day,
he's a very good cook.

And dishwasher.

Two whiskeys.

You say yes?

On a trial basis.

Hearts.