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Loosely based on real events

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The Marseilles mob's bloodbath keeps waging on.

The killings are probably drug-related...

The French Connection made Marseilles the world's heroin capital

and is now glutting New York.

America's public enemy number one

in the United States is drug abuse.

Drugs are now available to kids...

- I want my dope. - No, Lily.

I'll die.

You bet you will.

You shoot up.

Send me to rehab.

You don't want to quit.

- Who's pushing? - Who cares?

Deputy Mayor Deferre cares about Marseilles' reputation.

The drug plague spreads death and violence.

We'll eradicate it.

- My dope! - Sit!

We're strengthening our investigative capabilities

in order to allow police

the means to clean up the city.

Who's pushing? Give me a name.

- His name! - I'm dying!

Give me his name!

Who cares?

Look at this!

Look!

Look hard!

See?

I feel sick.

Just a little.

A little.

For me.

It's tough, but be strong.

Goodbye, Lily.

Pierre Michel Juvenile Magistrate

You're an hour late. Sit down.

Sorry, I was in a deposition.

The DA says it's urgent and you don't care.

Stubborn as an ass, Pierre.

It's decided. Starting now, you're out of Juvenile.

Meaning?

You work Organized Crime.

Big promotion.

I have unfinished cases. I can't leave Juvenile.

I expected this. It's why I chose you.

Pierre, there you really can fight drugs and help those kids.

Can I send you my parking tickets?

If you want to go to jail.

Easy on the sangria!

- Daddy! - My kittens!

Champagne?

It's about time.

What great news.

I'm so thrilled for you.

Seriously, he even missed a game.

- I don't get such treatment. - Enough.

- You love flattery. - True.

- It's bedtime. - They'll sleep at school.

Friends, what do we drink to?

To the new magistrate fighting organized crime!

Sleep or you'll be exhausted.

Drug Squad.

Hold on.

- Looking for someone? - Commissioner Aimé-Blanc.

- You are...? - He's here.

- Commissioner Aimé-Blanc. - Pleasure.

Jose Alvarez, our youngest member.

Sorry.

Sorry for the mess.

- Magistrates never come. - They're wrong.

A real old timer... Captain Ange Mariette.

- Good to meet you. - Pierre Michel.

Pierre Michel, our new magistrate.

Inspector Cusack, from the DEA. He represents the States.

- I've heard of you. - Good things?

We're investing a lot to stop the French Connection.

Heroin is destroying us.

Us too.

We'll see to it.

Concretely...

what's your plan?

Fill me in.

What do we have on them?

Nothing.

Meaning?

Fieldwork is more complicated than in your files.

I'm eager to learn.

You're not from here. I am.

I know this city inch by inch.

I worked six years in Paris. Vice Squad.

I'm back and I don't feel at home. The French rules.

Like a fucking octopus.

They took over bars and restaurants.

Wherever there was cash.

They preyed on whoever did well.

They called it a partnership. Extortion, of course.

Soon after, they put in slot machines.

But of course, they don't stop at bingo.

They make the casinos chalk up.

Oldest trick in the book.

A fight starts, then two.

Then three.

The incidents are total bullshit.

Thugs pick fights, owners shit themselves,

the Mob offers protection. Trust me,

no one refuses.

Same with clubs.

Entrance fees, drinks, in-house hookers.

They even control the liquor. Every last drop.

The French is filthy rich.

They reinvest their cash in something more profitable.

A business that turns snow into gold.

The morphine base comes from Turkey. By the ton.

If we don't intercept it,

we're fucked.

Secret labs.

Processed for weeks.

Trouble is, we can't locate these labs.

The dope gets stronger.

Their chemists are wizards.

Their smack is deadly as hell. 98% pure.

Hundreds of kilos are sent to the USA.

No one can top their logistics.

Never seen such organization.

An import-export business to make Dannon jealous.

Obstacles end up in the same place...

In our unsolved crime folders.

A thug-ocracy rivaling none other.

We know who runs the organization,

the drug kingpin. But who'd dare utter his name?

Nothing on him, nothing. No charges, no witness.

No reason even to tail him.

The true force of an untouchable

is the silence he imposes on others.

Your water's on the table, Mr. Zampa.

Hey, guys.

Hi, Tany.

Horse numbers, no names.

9, 16 and 15. You'll remember?

No Corsicans?

Couldn't come, but they're in.

Good news.

Americans want one hundred kilos.

I'll put up half. You chip in seven kilos.

Each.

That makes...

143,000 a head.

- You'll earn... - 1,250,000 each.

I'm in.

Me too.

I'd like to put in twice that.

Twice that?

Money up to here. I can't put it in a bank.

You should.

We'll see.

You choose.

Minassian, find the mule.

- Bimbo, find a place for the lab. - You got it.

And the new magistrate?

What about him?

I don't trust beginners. Overzealous.

Don't worry, Banker. He's no danger.

Don't worry.

We done?

Let's go.

Coming!

Oh fuck!

Bad time?

Are you kidding? Come in...

What's up, Franky?

Come in.

Nice surprise.

What does he want?

His water...

Original.

My girlfriend's place.

Dora?

- Know her? - People talk.

What do they say? Who are the pricks?

Calm down, Marco.

I hear you pay the rent...

but can't live here.

Sure I can. That's nonsense.

But Dora likes her freedom.

I respect that.

You respect it.

You hear?

- Respect. - Good.

Sure is.

As for me...

you respect me?

Why do you ask?

Of course I respect you.

Didn't I ask for something?

The chemist?

I found him. Guy named Charles Peretti.

He's the best.

In three weeks,

your ton of morphine base

will be one hundred kilos of smack.

Trust me.

When do I see him?

Very soon.

I know his nephew, Fabrizio.

We planned to meet two days ago.

It didn't work out, something came up.

But I'm on it. Don't worry.

Well, well.

Something's fishy.

- Why? - Are you in trouble?

Love.

Yeah, I'm in love but...

This isn't love?

That's nothing, Tany.

Once in a while...

For fucking, that's all.

- Toss it. - Hands off.

Near Naples, in my village... I'm Neapolitan.

You know.

We have a tradition that's a bit...

uncouth.

But it works.

When you catch your son drinking, what happens?

Slap him around a little.

Not in my village.

In my village...

the father sits his son down...

gives him a bottle of grappa

and makes him drink it all.

Glass after glass...

The son cries, shouts.

Pukes up his guts.

Inevitably, after a while,

he falls into a coma. Not for long.

Five hours, maybe six.

Trust me, after that,

he won't drink another drop.

Get my drift?

Cheers.

Not so much.

Again.

Go on.

Enough.

Go on.

Finish up.

Stop it...

Do it.

Find Peretti's nephew by tonight.

And we'll forget this.

Now?

A certain Lily Mariani wants to see you. She insists.

Show her in.

His name is Fabrizio Mandonato.

- Seeing him long? - Six months.

What's that?

He has a new pal. Big guy.

Fabrizio said to go off with him. I said no.

We'll see to him. Who's his friend?

Calazzi.

Him? Frank Calazzi?

Why are they together?

Franky promised to give him a club.

Get out of this.

I know. It's so hard.

You can't imagine.

I can.

I knew an addict.

Heroin?

He was into gambling.

Real fucking drug.

He liked that moment where you can lose it all.

He pulled out of it.

Fairly well.

It was you?

- What's he doing? - Waiting for you.

He insisted.

Fuck it.

He'll bust our balls.

- Know Charles Peretti? - He retired.

Yeah, rumor has it. Know his family story?

Father was a Corsican thug.

He invested here after the war.

He found some front men.

Mainly, him. Joseph Pietri,

aka Fat Jo.

- We know him. A real snake. - Exactly.

The Corsican sent his daughter to supervise.

So what?

I'm not done.

Charles' sister kept an eye on the shops.

She had a boy,

little prick, two-bit pimp...

Fabrizio Mandonato.

And he made a new friend.

Thick as thieves.

Middleman between his chemist uncle and Zampa.

DA okayed surveillance. Keep tabs on him, okay?

Good evening.

Look at this...

Who can respect a girl who strips before you ask?

He's with me.

- Thanks, Franky. - Come on.

We're glad your uncle's in.

What would he like as a thank you gift?

Beats me.

Corsican salami.

Corsican salami?

- A nice one. - You're the nice one. Go drink.

Who's the redhead?

Crazy Horse's girl.

I never saw her.

Doesn't he know this is private?

I can't say, Tany. He takes her all over.

Fuck... he's right to.

- Happy anniversary, honey. - You too.

3:02.

Get in front of that one.

Keep back.

Aimé-Blanc to central.

Central, go on.

Peretti has a delivery.

- Tell the Magistrate. - Yes, sir.

Do we tail him?

Forget him.

A boat. Peretti can use it to escape.

Let's go.

Ange, we're going in.

Got you.

Everyone in position.

Unit B moving in.

We're going in.

Living room. All clear.

There's noise in here.

We found the lab.

Police!

What the hell?

Pain in the ass!

Really!

- Fuck you! - Make him shut up!

Shove it up your ass!

We found Peretti.

Yeah, right! Prick!

Where's the base?

Morphine base, here? You're sick.

Where are the bags?

I found them in the basement.

What the fuck?

Haul him in.

What charges? Possession of salami?

I can't believe he found the architect.

I want to know what he had altered.

That wall is thicker than it was.

Take it down.

What?

Knock a hole here.

Sure. Can you help?

- So? - Not much.

Just a big pot.

Take it down.

Can I have that piece?

Charles Peretti...

born May 21, 1912.

You're 63.

You may finish your life behind bars.

No stereo, no Jacuzzi.

You won't miss it all?

You got nothing.

I stopped long ago. Statute of limitations ran out.

Charles, some people are just lucky.

And luck is arbitrary.

For you, five short months.

What's this crap?

You keep your stuff clean.

Dust can damage your material.

The newspaper, Charles...

What about it?

You wrapped your stuff in paper dated July 7, 1966.

Nine years, seven months. The limit is ten.

Talk about Zampa and this will start a barbecue.

Don't know him.

Everyone does but you.

I never leave my home.

Soon you'll never leave your cell.

I'll have coffee while you think.

Keep an eye on him.

He won't rat on Zampa.

Jeannot, take a walk.

You're bad luck.

Lay off my brother.

When he's here, we don't score. He jinxes the game.

- Idiot. - Unbelievable!

Tany, can we talk for a sec?

Talk.

The Banker came to see me.

He wanted the usual.

So what?

So what?

You remember I wanted to double down?

I remember.

And you don't say a word?

You just send the Banker?

Tany, it's me...

Must I justify myself?

Since when?

Forget it.

No big deal.

I knew he'd score.

Let it go.

We found Fabrizio Mandonato.

He won't say a word now. Damn it!

- Bad time? - Come in. I was making coffee.

- Have a seat. - Thank you.

Can I see Lily?

Nobody told you?

What?

An overdose.

Her funeral was last week.

I swear she took your advice.

She was on the wagon.

I don't understand what happened.

I'm so sorry, ma'am.

Welcome to America.

Not to be vulgar,

but do as you promised!

I'll use your balls as earrings!

This city's become a jungle.

Niggers and cops all over.

Niggers rob you everywhere.

Cops do too.

To boot, they throw you in jail.

The advantage here

is everyone's a user.

White, black, hippie, cop.

So you need more dope.

Yes, but what you're asking...

is above market price.

Market price?

I'm the market.

Not anymore.

The Asians get 30,000 a kilo.

Almost half your price.

And three times less pure.

When you cut my smack...

you get a lot richer than with that slanty-eyed shit.

So since we both like money,

let's keep on using my dope.

At my price.

Fucking Neapolitans.

You drive a bargain harder than a prisoner's cock!

And delivery?

Don't worry about it.

I never worry.

I'm satisfied...

or I'm not.

Hey, Lucien.

Changing the wallpaper?

Small fries.

Two-bit dealers, pimps...

Worker bees. Keep the machine humming.

We can't reach the head, so we go for the tentacles.

Lock them all up.

We'll find charges later.

Arrest Warrant

These are missing names.

Fill them in.

Not very legal.

But I like it.

It's our message to Zampa.

Party's over.

Spectacular arrest in Marseilles.

A gangster known as Gypsy

was caught today by the Drug Squad.

Move!

Sit him down.

- I'm the new magistrate. - What do I care?

Maximum sentence.

Latest roundup

in a series of arrests led by Pierre Michel,

Whose name is on everyone's lips.

No, Bimbo no!

- Yours? - Never saw it. Fuck you.

"Fuck you." Type that, miss.

Now it's yours.

Send it for finger prints.

In Marseilles, two men caught with two kilos of heroin.

Turn that off.

I'll change it.

Look, kid... nice, huh?

- Fuck it. - Type that.

They got Andreani.

Andreani. Nabbed an hour ago.

At first, I couldn't stand him!

Delighted to have your talented husband in Marseilles.

Elisa Marcone?

What charge?

Thug's wife.

That a crime?

He put it all in her name.

You're pushing your limits.

Take in the waist.

Not too much.

A bit more.

A little.

It's Lino. Open.

Take it in.

Sorry but I had to see you.

It's okay. Talk.

I can't pick up the base.

Why?

That prick. He put my wife in jail.

Your wife?

I'm alone with the kids.

I have to wash them, feed them, change diapers.

I'd take the slammer over this any day.

He's busting my balls.

Not just yours, but he's obsessed with you.

If it continues, we're all out of work.

Calm down.

I have to pee.

One minute, we're talking.

Keep playing.

I hate this. It's hell.

Stop it!

Take this.

I'll get you a lawyer.

- Sorry! - Come on, forget it.

Forget it!

Get going, kids.

I'm gonna kill them.

Bimbo, it's Tany.

I look around the classroom...

and I call on...

Not you, miss.

Very well. Go on.

What will you recite?

"I am what I am".

- By? - Jacques Prévert.

I am what I am,

I'm made this way.

I love him who...

I am what I am. I'm made this way...

When I want to laugh...

Go on.

When I want to laugh...

What's that disgruntled look?

What's wrong?

What's a faggot?

What?

Who said that?

Two boys talking about Dad.

One said he's a cowboy.

The other said a faggot.

People can say things.

Sometimes smart, sometimes dumb.

Know what you do next time?

- This. - Come on!

What?

Okay then... do this.

We're working here!

- Not worried? - About what?

All this.

The girls, school...

Everyone talks about you.

Whispering in hallways.

I don't want to know the rumors.

We can't do a thing. People talk.

Who cares?

- Can we discuss it? - Yes, we can.

But I swear there's nothing. Rumors.

We don't care.

Enjoy your lunch, Magistrate.

Give me a pastis.

Somethings eating at me.

Shoot If I can help a magistrate...

Your name is André.

Why do they call you Bimbo?

Why Bimbo?

Nice boobs.

My tits.

I got it.

You know all your files by heart?

My date of birth?

April 15, 1935.

I'm impressed...

You work a lot.

Too much!

You'll kill yourself.

Take a break.

Is that... my piece of the pie?

Exactly. Your piece of the pie.

For your kids. Kids like pie.

Same amount every month.

Explain later.

Let's go.

Listen.

"The famed Magistrate donated 5,000

"to Marseilles' biggest rehab clinic.

"It is his own money.

"He says it is perfectly normal

"that we all combat the plague..."

"...that's killing our youth."

"The magistrate reconfirmed he will keep fighting

"incessantly against heroin traffic

"and declared his desire to imprison Gaëtan Zampa,

"implicated in the fabrication of the rampant drug."

Gentlemen.

Let's toast Magistrate Michel.

Cheers!

You all know

how much I hate

rain,

Parisian cabs,

and the Paris soccer team!

But there's no refusing National Gang Squad.

I'd like to thank those to whom I owe the post.

And especially...

the most mismatched duo

in police history!

Loudmouth...

Here we go.

...and deaf-mute!

You mean

Zorro... and Bernardo!

Ange, drop the mask!

Respect your new chief. Get him on your side.

And the magistrate who puts it all into the cause.

His life, time, money...

Other people's money.

What do you mean?

He sounds like a thug now!

Seriously, Pierre...

You taught me something.

Nothing's impossible.

I'm going to miss you!

It better be important.

See for yourself. It's worth it.

What did he do?

No protection money.

- What do you mean? - Tell him.

Tell him what you told us.

Other guys came by.

Say who came for the money!

Crazy Horse!

See? I told you.

Why did you accept?

He said with that magistrate after you,

it's risky to work with you.

He says...

you're washed up.

- Repeat that! - It's him, not me!

He said to work with him now!

- You listened? Bastard! - What could I do?

Enough.

What about him?

Forget him. It's not his fault.

Idiot.

You'll go back to work.

Me, washed up?

Understood?

Went by the casino.

Give me my money.

Forget that money.

It's mine now.

Really?

All right.

Commissioner Bianchi?

Magistrate Michel, what brings you?

Crazy Horse case.

Anything but that file.

You got nothing?

Jack shit.

No prints, no evidence, no witness?

All we have is one dead body.

I hear it's Zampa.

"I hear" won't nail him.

For sure.

No use working up a sweat.

Better stuff to do.

Of course...

You seem pretty busy.

I'm swamped.

You're right.

Save your energy for fishing.

Meaning?

- Find me a car? - An armored one.

You're hiding out?

What do you mean?

Of course I am. So are you.

- We're at war. - I won't run.

- I'll ice him at the hospital. - No way.

You do what I say.

Think you can just kill him?

Full-time guard. Even cops have to knock!

Think!

Do nothing?

We pray.

If God won't waste him, we will.

Don't go out.

Not even for your son.

Let's go.

Someone's tailing us.

Give him a ride.

Brake.

Now!

See who it is?

Follow him.

What's this ass up to?

Lost?

Out walking.

Far from the office.

What do you want?

You get everyone talking, tail me.

No woman ever did as much.

You like me?

Not my type. I'm not into thugs.

Loaded word.

You see thugs everywhere. Part of the job.

I see myself differently.

I keep lots of people afloat.

I consider myself...

a businessman.

Don't play the "business" card.

I annoy you.

I'm used to people like you.

What's the salary

of a minor magistrate?

4,500?

5,000 a month?

Wake up.

Without me, will Marseilles be Switzerland?

I enjoy the little time we have.

You should too.

Like you do?

Bulletproof car and full-time watchdog?

Everybody wants you.

Me, cops, your pals out for your spot.

Been here twenty years.

- I'm not scared. - You are.

Bulletproof vests aren't for looks.

You sleep with an eye open.

Wondering when.

- You or your wife. - Careful.

- Don't disrespect. - No respect for you.

You got nerve.

Best not to meet again.

Best for who?

Me or you?

I hate being here.

Three months.

Endless.

- Bedtime... - Coming.

My dear son Thomas Calazzi

Take care of their funerals.

Nicest wreathes possible.

The nicest.

Want something stronger?

You're wrong. You should.

Giving orders?

Me, Wrong?

Find Crazy Horse.

Men everywhere.

What for? Got any tips?

None.

We can't call them just to settle scores.

Zampa took a blow.

Will he take it lying down? No, he's a fighter!

I can't send in a unit based on hunches.

Put on Bianchi.

He can't talk. He's busy.

I don't care. Put him on!

Call later!

Now will you act?

How many victims, four, five?

Don't piss me off. I'm busy.

You're working?

Listen, butt out.

Let us do our job. When we need you, we'll call.

Seen it? There's nothing to it. It's dumb.

- You're jealous. - Of what?

Of what? Of who?

- John Travolta? - Obviously.

A veritable mass execution.

In the annals of French crime, it is a first.

The Marseilles massacre left nine dead.

Possible gangland killing?

Yet the investigation has stalled.

The operation provided no new clues...

Here about the killing?

The report is empty.

You can shelve it. There's no case.

Like Bianchi does it on purpose.

Good for retirement or jail.

Always so level-headed.

24 hours to search the victims' houses!

I know. It's terrible.

- I need a favor. - I'm due in court.

Wiretap Zampa and Crazy Horse. Restaurants, bars, casinos.

What pretext?

You want illegal surveillance.

I'll find a charge after.

No way.

If we do nothing, it'll happen again.

- Too big a risk. - Bigger if we do nothing.

Damn, it's Zampa!

Crime Squad. Get me Magistrate Michel.

He's coming.

Let's go!

Tany said to stay put.

He's armed!

He's armed.

Police! Freeze!

Turn around!

- Hands off me. - Your ID.

Faster!

Detective... So what happened?

We were up there.

Zampa came. I called you. Then Crazy Horse showed up.

Don't know him?

- And Zampa? - Clean.

- No gun, no vest? - Nothing.

- Sure you weren't spotted? - Positive.

From Mr. Zampa.

He said you'd need it.

You're just a shyster for thugs!

What's going on?

Keep your magistrate under control.

Come with me.

What got into you?

Zampa filed a complaint. What next?

I want no trouble.

We got what we wanted.

I'll get three years for Crazy Horse.

We did Zampa's dirty business.

You're a great magistrate. Don't spoil it.

No more bending rules, illegal taps, nothing.

Am I clear?

Very clear, sir.

Goodnight, girls.

Where are you going?

- I have to go out. - Again?

- What do you do every night? - Big case.

A case? Magistrates work office hours.

Don't want to see us?

You never gave up.

- What? - You never gave up.

You're worked up like when you played poker.

Never again!

- You're crazy. - I'm not!

Now your life's at stake.

Forget it.

You're not taking risks?

I don't want Zampa free.

He's all you talk about. You're obsessed!

Don't you see?

No time together, no sex...

I know you. All you want is to win the round.

Not at all!

Bullshit! Look what's happening in the streets.

Drugs, junkies!

- What if they were our kids? - Ours?

If you never come home, what do I tell them?

You're going?

I'm fed up.

I hate feeling alone.

You're just selfish.

- What's with Ange and Zampa? - No idea.

Start talking...

A gang in the police.

We call them the Corsican Cops.

Not out here.

They've infiltrated Crime, Security.

Drug Squad?

Especially.

Ange runs the show.

He's a scumbag.

Sabotages our operations.

I bet he told Zampa about Peretti. It was obvious.

I knew we'd find nothing. As always.

We're being played.

We even work for them.

Zampa knew he was the target, not Crazy Horse.

He used you.

He just... played you against the other.

What's in it for them?

You're unbelievable.

- Money. - But what else?

A ton of money.

Not just bribes. They deal drugs with the French!

I'm sorry.

Who says you're clean?

See this?

A souvenir from Ange when I said no.

It could be an old wound.

Yeah, could be an old wound.

I've requested a transfer for three years. You can check.

Drop it, Magistrate.

Goes too high up.

What do you mean? Say it!

Know Minassian's brother?

- What's this about? - The Armenian.

Pardon me?

Never heard of the dealer?

Lower your voice.

A Minassian, like your aide.

No comment. Get out.

Do I need a warrant?

Who do you think you're talking to?

I've been Mayor for 25 years!

Trust me, this time you've gone too far!

They can't take me off it.

It's the Mayor's choice.

He wants a statement.

I'll tell the press.

You will not!

I'll say how rotten their city is!

If you move one finger, you're transferred!

Abandoning me?

I have a life, Pierre.

Honey?

I left. The girls are fine.

Marie, it's Pierre. Put Jacqueline on.

She's not here.

I know she is. Put her on.

Put her on, Marie!

She needs time.

She can stay here.

Put her on the phone!

Lay off a little.

Damn it! I said to put her on the phone!

Put her on the fucking phone!

Damn it!

Put her on. I need to talk to her.

What's wrong?

Calm down.

What's wrong?

Say something.

I'm sorry.

Come back.

Please.

I need you, I swear.

I'm tired.

Tired of being afraid.

Afraid all the time.

Hello Marseilles, how are you?

Have you been waiting long?

Well, tonight's the night.

The opening of the biggest club in France.

DJ... music!

Where's Tany?

I don't know.

Why are you here?

Big success.

Happy?

All your friends are here.

Not all of them.

Franky and Bimbo would have liked this.

Good job, son!

Mitterrand's campaign begins.

Mitterrand visits Gaston Deferre's city.

We can rally the Left.

We'll rally all of France!

May 10th, 1981. Second round of the presidential election...

Mitterrand, President of France.

The first Socialist president in 23 years.

- Mitterrand won! - What do we care?

Listen to Minister Deferre. ..

Our program is dynamic,

aiming for progress and change.

Realistic change,

practical change,

above all, serious change.

What's up, Minassian?

Loading at 6?

Careful.

I'll call when I get there.

No answer.

Call back.

Again?

Somethings wrong. What's that mule doing?

No answer.

I don't like this.

What's that crap?

What is this? A gay club?

Do I pay you for this shit?

Stop it!

Pierre? Inspector Cusack speaking.

Sorry to bother you.

They said you were...

Home on Wednesday.

I need you.

We seized a ship in New York.

I'm off the case.

That's bullshit.

Nobody knows it better!

We got the mule. He was using a paella truck.

We have his contact.

It's Minassian.

Yes, I'm here.

So?

- Let me think. - Think fast.

You'll do your duty.

14.

Keep it.

Sit down.

I drink tea now.

Like an old lady. It warms me.

You miss Marseilles?

The sun, yes.

Not the city.

Lemon, sugar?

I must say, your call came as a surprise.

What brings you?

I heard your acceptance speech.

Lot of talk of change.

A word I like.

Get to the point.

What's your offer?

Headlines about our relentless new minister.

Now you interest me, my boy.

Go on.

The DEA gave me a lead.

Put me back on the case.

We're recruiting a team.

- Officially you'll be training. - For what?

Criminology, running, sewing, who cares?

We track Minassian.

Secret setup.

How did you know Deferre would switch?

He switched sides beforehand.

What was his first move as minister?

No idea.

He fired Minassian.

A clear signal.

Some more?

Minister Deferre is ditching his old pals.

You made this?

My wife went out.

- Want to marry me? - No thanks!

Minassian!

You came from America to tell me this, Charly?

Listen...

I got him to give you a last chance.

But lower your prices.

A last chance?

For me?

What do you want?

Wage war with Santo?

On the next shipment, I'll knock off...

5%.

15.

Have them stop the racket.

10%.

It's 15...

or nothing.

You blew him off with his 15%?

Of course I did.

I didn't blow him off.

I had no choice.

Without them, we're nothing.

They got us by the balls. Without them, no money.

And the Krypton?

The Krypton makes nothing.

Every day it costs me, every day.

It's just...

a mirage to keep Christiane happy.

Without dope, we lose it all.

No more Krypton, no more Zampa.

No more.

It'll be all right.

Meet Magistrate Michel.

Richard...

Stéphane...

Simon and Ludovic.

Follow me.

- So, what do we have? - Not much.

120 hours of conversation.

They talk a lot.

Their kids, soccer, pesto, never Minassian or drugs.

As if they knew.

This way.

Welcome to the DEA.

Guys,

look who's here.

The French cowboy. It's an honor to meet you

Alright, alright. That's enough circus, here.

He's got a lot of work ahead of him, Judge, welcome to New York.

Thank you.

Follow me, I'll take you to interrogation.

So the DEA offices here are basically split up,

do you understand English?

- A little. - Okay.

This space, we split up into continents, basically,

South America, Africa,

what used to be Europe is now France, for obvious reasons.

What do they say? Beaucoup de travail.

A lot of work.

That is a nice suit, you guys are snappy dressed, French.

Asia, rest of Europe here.

Interrogation, he's waiting for you, he's all hot and bothered.

Bob's outside the door, have fun.

I don't believe it.

Icing on the cake.

Glad to see you too.

You know who I am.

So give me what I want.

Hold on. I told them everything.

We cut a deal: house in Canada, probation...

Minassian disappeared.

It's my fault?

Not your fault, your problem.

A new lead

or prison with Puerto Ricans. Your choice.

I never should have been on that boat.

My men make that trip.

With the mess you made, no one would come.

I really regret it.

Focus on the pictures.

Know him?

I don't, but that's Marco Da Costa.

Him?

Da Costa.

Tell me more.

Been hanging with the mob for years. Knows everyone.

Connection to Minassian?

They came to the factory together, but ages ago.

Think Da Costa works for Zampa?

I have no idea. Probably.

I never met the big boss.

Anything else?

Not enough?

Why not ask who shot Kennedy?

Do you know?

- Canada is colder than Marseilles. - I've heard.

I confirm it.

Da Costa. No criminal record.

Officially he owns a restaurant but he's never there.

He prefers hanging in clubs with local thugs.

Tell me something interesting.

It's coming.

Da Costa, Ange and Bianchi were in the SAC.

Stéphane, please.

Militant Gaullists, friends for fifteen years.

Da Costa is middleman between the Corsican Cops and Zampa.

There we go.

What's his love life like? Men, women,

both?

He likes Dora Meurisse.

Have a look. One on the left.

He's putty in her hand.

What do we do?

We stay on him.

Dora, baby...

Take a walk. We have business.

Really?

Are you serious?

I'm gone.

You can follow it in here.

Magistrate.

Ready?

You're not on your two legs.

You're hopping. Not easy.

Number 2 to base.

They went right.

Stéphane, they're coming.

They went left.

Towards an old farm.

Size 42? Give me a 40!

I found the house.

Tomorrow at La Ciotat.

They're coming, sir.

We'll keep ready.

Chemist got in Da Costa's car.

Great place. Clean, good food. I got a theory.

You have to eat good and feel good in a restaurant.

Once, I was with Jeannot.

He said, "This place is okay."

What's okay?

- What's wrong? - We're out of range.

Drive faster! We lost the signal!

I lose my temper, but I don't care.

Not enough sleep. I'm tired.

At least I was on time.

What the hell?

What's that for?

To stay ignorant.

So I can't be accused of blabbing.

You look like Batman.

We're almost there.

If the house is okay, we start in three weeks.

Fine.

Miss!

See her? I forgot!

It's here.

They went down a road. What do I do?

- Lab must be close. - Drive on.

We'll stake out the house.

Good job.

Perfect.

Wine, Mrs. Zampa?

Château Roubine.

I'm craving sea urchin.

Got enough?

I think so.

Just a minute.

It's all set.

Test the dope. Manage transport.

- And Minassian? - Gone.

It's you.

Pain in the ass.

Move over.

Alvarez to Central.

Monday...

- Still broken. - I liked that.

Trust your husband.

For you.

I'll get him.

Tell them I'm coming.

Don't worry.

I'll finish that later.

Sir...

In position.

- Move in. - Copy that.

Come on, guys! Let's go!

Keep me informed.

Police! Freeze!

What's going on?

Da Costa is running!

Drop it!

Get down!

Your arm!

Both!

Your hand!

Gaëtan?

Let's go, honey.

What is it?

Talk to me. Tell me.

Look at me! Talk!

I'll call you back. I have a call.

The problem is Da Costa.

If he talks, we all go down.

We know Marco.

He won't talk.

The magistrate won't give up. He's a mad dog.

He'll grill him real bad.

Ange, what do we do?

No, not that.

Not Marco.

Da Costa is here.

Bring him in.

Why is she here?

Leave the cuffs. Sit.

- We searched her apartment. - You can't!

Don't tell me what I can do.

This notebook is all I need.

What notebook?

What notebook?

It's his number.

Still don't know Zampa?

That notebook isn't mine.

So it's hers.

No, not hers.

Not mine either.

You're caught red-handed.

- That's twenty years. - I know.

Her link to the godfather gets her ten years.

Give us Zampa for witness protection.

What protection?

You can't protect me.

No one can protect me from Zampa!

If I talk, I'm a dead man!

If you don't talk too. This means death.

Forget Marseilles.

Testify and it's Canada.

- I can't. - You can.

I can't talk.

I'm scared.

I can't fucking talk!

Talk, please.

Dora!

I beg of you.

Don't do this to me.

Please, talk.

I'm begging you.

I want two passports.

And a letter from the President.

Then I'll talk.

No way.

Impossible to ice Da Costa. Guarded 24/7.

If he talks, we're done.

The Corsicans drop us and we rot here.

Got men outside?

I have a solution but if we do it,

Tany will take the fall.

Let me through! It's my husband!

Let go!

Many people change opinions easily...

Hi, Jeannot.

You okay?

Adventure is exhausting!

I wish a car would come.

Look. There's one.

That's a truck.

Hop on, we'll take you there!

Thanks!

I'd prefer a florist.

Magistrate Michel was shot dead.

Keep reading.

Impossible conditions for travel!

I think so too.

I got an idea.

I'll be right back.

The most expensive part of a car is the engine.

You should get in.

I don't want you crying.

Look at me.

You're a man now.

I'm not leaving, just hiding.

Come out!

The house is surrounded.

Put that down.

You have 30 seconds to come out!

Then we come in!

Put your hands up!

On your knees!

Today is historic.

A victory of justice over crime.

I am proud to know Gaëtan Zampa is behind bars tonight.

And I congratulate

with all my heart

the Marseilles police officers

who joined forces over the past weeks

to carry out this operation.

As I say these words,

I cannot but think

of my friend Pierre Michel, the magistrate

who fearlessly gave his life

to put an end

to the French Connection.

His death

is a great loss for France.

Justice must be done.

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