All language subtitles for The Capture S03E03 1080p HEVC x265-MeGusta

The Home Secretary, Isaac Turner,
was shot and fatally wounded by a gunman.

Have you got the shooter?

It's not him.

Deputy Commander Carey, allow me
to introduce Commander Pierson.

Our new Head of SO15.

That is the man
that shot Isaac Turner.

Okay...

Escort Mr. Pierson
to additional vetting.

Security check?

The scanner identified a foreign object
inside the individual's upper torso.

Armed Support to Security!

- I would delete that one if I were you.
- What the f...

We have a deal.

Why would I do you a favour?

So I can owe you one.

Face-match, ma'am.

Ninety-seven-point-eight percent.

- On Pierson?
- No, ma'am. On the gunman. James Whitlock.

Ten o'clock News,
we name James Whitlock as our suspect.

James Whitlock?

I told you he should
never have been let out.

I saw you kill Isaac Turner.
And you know I did!

Why don't we bring this sideshow
to a close and get on with the job?

You and I have
a rather important case to solve.

Think we know where to find him.
You heading down there?

- Of course.
- You can jump in with me.

- Where's Armed Support? Where's Uniform?
- They'll be here any second.

- Then we wait.
- And risk Whitlock escaping?

You better come and see this.

Simmer down, Wild Cat.
You're not going anywhere.

You shoulda' killed me
when you had the chance.

Are we agreed on the parameters?

Fast-Track, when have you ever
known me to not respect boundaries?

I mean it, Frank.
This is not a CIA Black Site.

It's not? The trouble you're in?
This had better be a CIA Black Site.

Have you found nothing on him?

Piece of shit doesn't leave a mark.

Can you at least get into his phone?

Oh, I'm sorry, Wizard.
She doesn't know who you are.

D'you get into the phone?
Is there a tracker? Find it, divert it.

No one's tracking this device.

Are you sure? He didn't fire-wall
his device for no reason.

He's gotta have something
on there he doesn't want us to see.

Yeah, maybe this?

What the hell is it?

Does he have a pacemaker?

He has an implant in his chest, yeah.

Your prime suspect has a heart problem?

Fast-Track, something's off here.
I mean a Spook, maybe. Special Forces?

- Cattle-prod didn't trouble him too much?
- Yeah, well we can always up the voltage.

You wanna find out who this asshole is?
Let me do my thing, okay?

- Would you let me do my thing?
- Covert Interrogation.

- No contact.
- I won't touch a hair on his head.

His car's clean.

Kilo Three, Kilo One.
Brecknock Farm. Arrival.

Kilo One. I'm on my way.

I need to show my face.

That other boy?

Whitlock?

You know James Whitlock?

I know everybody.

Apparently not.

Trust me, Frank. You need
to proceed with extreme caution.

I've seen what this man is capable of.

What about you, Wizard?
You see a killer?

Alpha One to all units. Brecknock Farm.
Rear perimeter secured.

Approaching Whitlock
caravan from the south.

Foxtrot Two, copy. Farm building's clear.
No sign of movement.

Armed police! Armed police!
Armed police! Clear!

- Right clear!
- Caravan clear!

Unit's clear, ma'am.

We'll be there in fifteen, ma'am.

- Tom?
- Wait one second, caller.

- DC Tan, command of the room is yours.
- Understood.

Take it you can talk, ma'am?

Yeah, Commander Pierson's following
a new lead in the investigation.

Okay?

You're overdue an update
on our extra-curricular surveillance.

I didn't realise
you were still helping me, Tom?

That's uncalled for, Carey.
I'm on your side whatever that side is.

There's nothing in the rule book that says
I have to agree with every word you say.

Fair.

Well if you do wanna help me,
figure out how the fuck Noah Pierson

managed to correct one
of our Operation Veritas feeds.

I'll run checks, again.

But this might have to be one of those
points of disagreement I'm talking about.

If someone fucked with
the Veritas feeds, I'd know about it.

So unless he's got
a twin brother,

I'm inclined to believe that
Noah Pierson was in Coal Drops Yard

at the time Isaac Turner was shot.

You might believe differently if
you'd seen it with your own eyes.

What's the surveillance update?

It's Bronx Zoo.

Go on?

We've lost eyes on.

How the hell did that happen?

He managed to give his detail the slip
at some point last night.

Might have something to do
with the resources being stretched.

What with the manhunt
taking priority?

We're running Facial Rec.

Shouldn't we be?

No, of course.
Good work.

On second thoughts.
Tom, you know, you're right.

Resources.
Napier's just not a priority.

- Okay.
- Let's focus on White Rabbit.

She's got to be involved.

Yeah, about White Rabbit?
She made contact with Cash Flow.

When?

We tracked her vehicle to his home
address ten twenty-five last night.

After the news broke about Whitlock?

They met in a blind-spot.
The eyeball couldn't get close.

Increase surveillance coverage
on both targets.

Get a trojan into their phones.
Update me whenever there's movement.

Understood.

But you have to understand
there's only so much I can do

whilst we keep up
the pressure on the Whitlock front.

Don't worry, Tom.
The Ops Room's yours.

You won't have anyone breathing
down your neck for a while.

Welcome aboard flight one-oh-one
to an undisclosed location

outside the legal jurisdiction
of the United Kingdom.

We'll be cruising at an altitude
that makes breathing uncomfortable,

and our flight time will be
as long as it takes to break you.

If you are sitting next to
an emergency exit, my advice?

Jump.

Thank you for flying CIA and we hope
you enjoy the in-flight entertainment.

- Kilo Three to Control?
- Go ahead?

Brecknock Farm is clear.
No eyes on target.

Repeat.
No eyes on Whitlock.

- Got the phone, Kilo Three?
- Yep, we've got the phone.

- Uploading now.
- Got more than that.

Kilo Three to Kilo One?

Ma'am, are you close?

- You alright, ma'am?
- Yeah, course. What have you got for me?

You've got to see this.

- The property backs onto a shooting range.
- Shooting range?

Whitlock applied for membership.
They told him it was a long waiting list.

It was their way of
putting him off, apparently.

They said that some
of their members

didn't take too kindly
to 'fake squaddies'?

When was the last time anyone saw him?

The last time they saw his van
parked here was yesterday morning.

He hasn't returned since
the time of the attack on Isaac Turner.

Ma'am.
He's been planning something.

Suspect's phone download complete.

- Sixty four Gigabyte of video files.
- Load them and scan them.

Let's find out what Jamie Whitlock's
got to say for himself.

Okay, July twentieth.
Home Office says sixty eight total.

Simon says, hundred and one.

- Control, Kilo Three?
- Go ahead?

Got a green transit van registered
to a Stuart Whitlock. Medway, Kent.

Yeah, that's the uncle.

Foxtrot Delta Fifty-Seven Uniform
Alpha Oscar.

- Run an ANPR.
- Happening.

Control, we need to authenticate
these Home Office documents.

Did Whitlock get hold of them legally?
Or has he hacked the Home Office?

- Received.
- Understood.

- What's his phone given us?
- Last activity yesterday morning.

Exchange of messages,
encrypted then deleted.

- Recover them.
- In progress, ma'am.

Whitlock's been a busy boy online.

Home Office says eighty-two.
Simon says, hundred and fifty-seven.

- He's been busy here, too.
- Busy doing what, exactly?

Reconnaissance?

Reconnaissance for?
None of this is Westminster.

His escape?

- Kilo One Control?
- Ma'am?

Call Comms.
Put out an all Ports Warning.

And issue an arrest
warrant for James Whitlock.

I was listening to that.

Guantanamo FM.

Doesn't seem to trouble you too much?
You got yourself some coping mechanisms.

Can't beat the old classics.

Dentist drilling?

Although I'd have to go
with a new-born baby screaming.

How about Americans speaking?

- I wish to see Deputy Commander Carey.
- Can't allow it.

Whatever she's told you about me,
she's mistaken.

Is she?

Well I gotta say, I'm intrigued.
I mean, two days ago, you didn't exist.

Now you run Counter-Terrorism.

Who are you, pal?
Who sent you? The Gods?

I am Commander Noah Pierson, SO15.

You are falsely imprisoning
a Senior British Police Officer.

Or someone who's impersonating one.

- Is that what she's accused me of?
- It's on the list.

Y'know just cause somebody gives
you a badge, doesn't make you a cop.

I mean, we both know
you're a plant.

Question is, who planted you?
Moscow? Beijing?

- Quite the leaps we're making?
- I mean you can't be British Intelligence.

I can't?

Our paths would've crossed.

- Would they?
- MI6 spooks come with a legend.

You're not a banner agent.
You're a blank page.

Where d'you grow up?
Where d'you go to school?

What makes you the man you are today?

7How many people have you killed
in combat?

You Special Forces, son?
Your Deputy seems to think you are.

Well, I never met a marine
with a heart murmur.

Is that a recent accessory?

Something happen on tour?

Somebody break your heart?

I wish to see Deputy Commander Carey.

And I wish to see Asia.

I wish to see Japan

with all of the cherry blossoms
that fall in, in the Spring.

No! God!

The manhunt for James Whitlock

has intensified this afternoon as police
believe the Westminster suspect

may be attempting to flee
the country via the South Coast.

Control to all units!
I repeat! Flight Risk Alert!

All Ports Warning in effect. Be advised,
suspect is dangerous and may be armed.

Tide times.

I don't think you'll find
him at the ports, ma'am.

Reckon he's planned on using
a small boat.

He's printed tidal forecasts
for every beach in Kent.

So he could be setting off from...

Any one of them,
if he knows what he's doing.

If he knows what he's doing,

why did he leave his escape
plans hanging on the wall?

What are all these marks along
the coast?

- Control, Kilo One?
- Go ahead?

We've recovered Whitlock's
encrypted messages, ma'am.

- And?
- It's fair to say he's not working alone.

- He's been receiving instruction.
- From?

The number's saved in his contacts
under the name 'Simon'.

- That name's coming up a lot.
- Simon says sixty-six.

What was his most recent message?
The one received yesterday morning?

'If you're interested
in properties by the sea

Abbot's Cliff is nice'.
As codes go, it's hardly Enigma.

We think he might be trying
to escape using a small boat.

There's four coves to choose from.

Search Teams and Firearms Support
to Abbot's Cliff, Kent.

On their way, ma'am.

Firearm support to Abbot's Cliff in Kent.
That's Abbot's Cliff in Kent.

Ma'am, it looks like there's a lot
of talk between Simon and Whitlock

about a big event on the Seventeenth.

Yesterday.
The day of the attack.

He's not trying to escape the country
for no reason, ma'am.

Abbot's Cliff. We're on our way.

You hanging in there, Boy Scout?
Heart-rate normal. Blood-pressure okay.

Everything seems to be ticking
in that little box of yours?

Where's Rachel Carey?

You know I'm starting to think,

maybe that thing is not be a chink
in your armour after all.

Is that what's keeping your pulse
rate so even? Robo-Cop?

If I'm to be interrogated,
I'd like the Deputy Commander present.

Or are you just a stone cold killer?

Another accusation.

I think you ought to know Rachel Carey
may not be of sound mind.

You a shrink?

Don't have to be a psychiatrist
to be concerned

about a colleague's mental health.

She has suffered a profound trauma.
She deserves professional help.

But whatever accusations
she may have flung around

should be treated with caution.

And certainly not form
the basis of covert action!

Do you trust her judgement?

I don't trust, period.

But one thing about Rachel Carey,
when she gets an idea in her head,

often times there's something to it.

Brilliant. Meanwhile
there's a killer out there.

Either that, or he's in here.

Sure. You got me.
I'm a stone cold killer.

Ma'am, are we on the same page?
Are we looking for the same suspect?

We are looking for James Whitlock.

He's involved one way or another.

We need to find him and
get him in a cell, either way.

You still think he was set up?

- The news footage, corrected?
- I'm not expecting you to agree with me.

I'm not sure what I found harder to watch.

You insisting that our new boss
was the killer, or you buckling.

I did not buckle.

I have not buckled.

Khadija. Your lawyers
on the line again?

No, I'm calling as a friend.

I thought I'd call you and see how you
were after last night?

What d'you mean?

Well, I would say once more
with feeling, but we only get one.

I've seen more conviction on the faces
of hostages in ISIS videos.

You still think Whitlock is fake news
don't you?

Nothing I said in that press statement is
untrue. We are looking for James Whitlock.

This is me you're talking to.

I understand the art of sticking
closely to the truth when you're lying.

I do this for a living.

We're looking for Whitlock.

Okay. Well if you stumble across
any exclusives to the contrary,

well, well any exclusives at all,
you know where to find me.

- Are we still friends?
- So long as it's purely transactional.

Yeah, of course.

- Control to Kilo One?
- Go ahead?

Ma'am, it looks like Whitlock got hold
of those Home Office documents

via Freedom of Information requests.

He made a total of nine requests
during his time in prison.

Nine Freedom of Information requests?

It sounds like Whitlock
had it in for the Home Office.

He accused the Government of covering up
the true stats on undocumented migrants.

Fair to say it's something
of an obsession for the lad.

Whitlock's 4-Chan account ma'am.
De-activated last month.

Because?

Sending you the post
that got him kicked off the platform.

Our history books say the last
land invasion of England was 1066.

In actual fact the last land invasion
of England

was yesterday morning
at nine forty-five

when a boat carrying forty undocumented
male migrants landed in Dungeness, Kent.

Now, that is forty, four zero,
fighting-age illegal male migrants.

Now a land invasion is an Act of War.

Right, in war, civilians
are allowed to fight back.

We're supposed to fight back.

And the next time

a boatload of fighting-age males
lands on our shores, we'll be ready.

Turn the car around.

Kilo One, Control.

This is our land.
It's our duty to defend it.

Go ahead, ma'am.

It's not an escape plan.

If the authorities won't do it

what are we gonna do?

What are you gonna do?

- Tactical Command. With me.
- Ma'am!

How many world war two bunkers
on the coast of Kent?

- Roughly. Fifty? Hundred?
- Hundred at least.

That's what these are.

Search teams deploy
to twenty-seven East.

Thirty-nine North.
West Cove. Abbot's Cliff.

Armed police!

Interlock your fingers!

Put your hands on your head! Drop down
to your knees! Cross your feet over!

Target detained.
Repeat. Target detained.

- Has he been searched?
- Secure!

Suspect detained, ma'am. He's been
handed over to your arrest teams.

No shots fired. Just as well.

Suspect was found in possession
of an unlicensed firearm.

A long range rifle.
With every intent to use it.

Outstanding work.

- Rachel?
- Khadija. You want an exclusive?

I'm listening.

How's the bladder holding up?

You need a potty break?

Excellent prostate control.

Cherish that.

I'm still not sure what it is you do?

You can't be US Intelligence?

- Can't?
- Our paths would've crossed.

For a minute I thought you might be Rachel
Carey's Republican uncle or something?

Y'know, in from out of town?

If I'm this stone cold killer
you say I am,

what chance would you have
of getting me to talk?

I have my various ways.

So has my friend Jean-Paul here...

You remember Jean-Paul.

He's the one that took you down
with a cattle-prod. Jean-Paul, say hello.

Go fuck yourself.

Yeah, Jean-Paul can get very cranky
when we push lunch.

Figures. Bound to encroach
on the afternoon nap?

Thirty thousand volts are
going through you right now.

- Jean-Paul, what's the highest it goes to?
- High as an angel's left tit.

Oh God. Jean-Paul, he's not really
up on what he's not supposed to say.

He's also not really up on
what he's not supposed to do.

Health and Safety gone mad.

Hard to keep up.

Is that a Parisian accent, Jean-Paul,
or are you from the Dordogne?

Deputy Commander Carey.

You are complicit
in illegal interrogation.

And you are complicit in torture.
You can stop this!

Who the fuck you talking to?

If you guarantee my safety,
I will speak to you! But you alone!

For God's sake. I mean, haven't you done
enough to the poor woman?

You got something to say,
why don't you say it to me?

Sorry.
I don't talk to strangers.

Prick. If you'd come to me in the
beginning, you wouldn't be in this mess.

You do know about
the Special Relationship, don't you?

Well if you are British Intelligence,
we're on the same side, asshole.

- "We"?
- Langley!

- For fuck's sake! Now I get it.
- You get what?

You're a scarecrow.

They left you out in the field.

The term you're trying
to think of is Field Agent.

As in, the lifeblood of the Agency.

You know a lot of things
can be done online now?

Well not everything.

If I wanna talk to the CIA,
I'm calling Langley.

You want the Pope, call the Vatican.

Not some crumbling
parish outpost with a dying priest.

Scarecrows.

I used to love hearing stories
about you guys.

Wasn't there a Station Chief in Paris
who ran his Ops Room out of a brothel?

Berlin. And it was, above a brothel.

Holy shit, that was you?

Yeah, it was a kompromat factory.

Now if you wanna find out what somebody
eats for breakfast? You bug a cafeteria.

If you wanna find out what somebody
will flip over? You bug a whorehouse.

Well, I can't imagine
why they reassigned you.

You just get here? Apparently,
the last guy overstayed his welcome.

Real old school.
Paranoid.

He'd tear down his ops room
every other week,

move it from one junk yard
to another,

never tell the Embassy where
he was going next.

Sounds like quite a sensible
fellow to me.

Kind of a legend, kind of a dick.

Kind of a scumbag,
if you believe the rumours.

They say the reason he worked
off-radar was the Abu Ghraib shit

he had going on in the basement.

- Tittle-tattle.
- I feel like the guy's name was Dick?

- Have I made that up? Dick? Or Bob? Or...
- Frank?

- Frank! That's it! Frank Napper?
- Careful there, Boy Scout.

Nipper?

Frank Napier?

Frank Napier! I breathe rarefied air.

Well for now, you do.

I'm sorry I called you a dick.

Wait a second? Aren't you the one
who got played by Rachel Carey?

More gossip. Oh, you're quite
the yenta, aren't ya?

Didn't she expose Correction
on your watch? That's gotta sting.

I would wait for the report to come out
before I rush to conclusions on that one.

Sorry, but how are you still here?

And you're working with Rachel Carey
again? Hasn't she humiliated you enough?

How 'bout this? How about I ask
the questions and you give the answers?

Why don't you bring Rachel Carey
down from up on high,

and maybe we can get somewhere...

Because she is not here!

- Wizard, play the hits.
- No.

Movement.

Cash Flow is mobile.

DC Tan,
command of the room is yours.

Eyes on Target.

Cash Flow on the move.

All Surveillance Units be advised. Cash
Flow is high-profile and highly trained.

Eyeball on target.

'Least he was once.

- Fast-Track?
- Regular updates, I said.

Oh, I thought you were calling me.

Any developments
I need to know about?

Well, earlier I thought
your boy was a piece of shit.

Now I think he's a fucking piece of shit.
So guess you can call that a development?

Why isn't he talking?
What's taking so long?

Khalid Sheikh Mohammed took twenty years!

You might need to... rein it in.

What the fuck are you talking about?

We've arrested James Whitlock.

- You think maybe you got this wrong?
- No, I didn't say that.

Just might need to take the heat
off, until I know more.

Well, I wish I could, Fast-Track,
but we're kinda on a roll here.

I mean I'm boiling a lobster. Can't take
him out of the pot until he's done.

Frank!
Noah Pierson is my suspect.

You're not the only one this
concerns anymore, Fast-Track.

This has gotten personal.

- Kilo Two, Kilo One?
- Fuck!

Tom? Go ahead?

You said to update you whenever
there was movement?

- Yes?
- Cash Flow is mobile.

- Do not lose eyes on.
- Ma'am.

Lima Nine to Control. Cash Flow
heading east on Ramilies Road.

Police say they have averted a second
mass shooting by the Westminster suspect,

James Whitlock.

Whitlock, wanted in connection
with the murder of Isaac Turner,

has been arrested on multiple charges.

Target stopping.

Keep eyes on.

- Kilo One?
- Tom?

We've got another meeting.

Cash Flow's at
White Rabbit's home address.

Get into their devices.
I wanna hear every word.

Already on it.

Cash Flow's phone is off.

- What about White Rabbit's?
- Seconds away, sir.

Cup of tea?

A very weak Earl Grey.

Lots of milk.

- Into the phone.
- Activate on board mic.

Activating...

Shall we take our tea into the other room?
I can't hear myself think in here!

Bollocks.

You ready to talk?

Heart rate's finally up.

That gizmo giving out on you?

Look, Frank...

You were right.

- I was?
- You and me.

We're on the same team.
Of course we are.

You understand.

We both gave up
our shot at normal life, didn't we?

We chose to live in the shadows.

Without a flicker of recognition.

Without so much as
a 'thank you for your fucking service'?

They pass us on the street,
don't they?

They don't know! How could they?

They have no idea the sacrifices we've
made to keep the world a safer place.

I have given two marriages to this shit.

So, one unsung hero to another,
I'm asking you to do me a solid, Frank.

I need to reach Deputy Commander Carey
as a matter of urgency.

You need a ride,
or you good to get the bus?

Tell me where she is?
We walk away.

This never happened.

You think I'm gonna let you walk
away, now? After you just started talking?

Am I talking, Frank?!
I've given you nothing.

You've given me your name, half the places
you've worked, how many wives you've had.

Who's interrogating who?

Maybe you'll be a little bit
more forthcoming

with fifty thousand volts
up your ass?

- I just told you we're on the same side!
- Prove it.

Well, it's not that simple!

- God!
- Who do you work for?

Even if I tried to explain it,
you wouldn't understand...

How many more blows to the heart
before your fuse blows, huh?

For God's sake, Frank!

Surely you must be familiar
with the concept of 'need to know'?!

What about it?

Well, and I cannot emphasise this enough,
there is a lot you don't need to know!

What if I wanna know?

You're almost out of the game.

Why fill your head with facts you're
not gonna need in the CIA nursing home?

You've served your country, and her
allies, now with the greatest respect,

take a bow and fuck off!

Before you do...

Be a mensch?

Let me go?

You almost had me.

- Was it Mensch? Was it too much?
- It was a little too much.

I take it back.
Forget I said anything. Just...

Let me out of here! Please?

Nah.

Wait? No!
You don't understand I need...

Boss?

What the fuck?
It can't have been the cattle-prod?

It can't? You just put fifty-thousand
volts through him, Frank.

What are you, Amnesty International?
What the fuck is the protocol, huh?

I mean, what do we do? What do we jump
start the engine? What do we do?!

- He wants his phone.
- We're not calling a fucking ambulance!

I think he's got something on his phone.

Wizard! Phone!

What the fuck are you saying, asshole?

The app, the pacemaker app.
It needs a code.

- Well can't you hack it?
- If you give me a few minutes?

Does he look like he has a few minutes?!

You know what, fuck it!
Cut his arm loose.

If you're a leftie, son,
you're outta fucking luck.

No way.

After an extensive search operation in
Kent, suspect in the Westminster attack,

James Whitlock,
was detained by police earlier today.

Well, no doubt residents across London
and the South East will rest easier

knowing that James Whitlock is inside
a Maximum Security cell tonight,

and no longer a threat to Public Safety.

Deputy Commander Carey, are you pleased
to have found your suspect so quickly?

Was this a racially motivated attack?

Rachel?

Paige...

Rested?

Yeah, no, not, not really.
Sorry did you, brief the BBC?

I didn't wanna take advantage of you.

I thought you needed the rest,
so I didn't wanna bother you.

That's really naughty.
Everything is supposed to go through me?

I thought you'd be happy.

First bit of news doesn't make us
look like idiots all week.

Now maybe everyone can
leave me alone for five minutes,

while I try and solve this case.

Doors closing.

Make your way to the scanner, please.

This way.

Take your shoes off please, sir.

Full search of suspect...

Suspect now with security
for scan and search.

- James Whitlock is in custody, ma'am.
- Outstanding result, ma'am.

It's quite a charge-sheet
this dickhead's chalked up.

We haven't even started on Westminster.

Tom? How's the surveillance?
What's the update?

- Guvnors' looking for you.
- Yates?

Pierson.

Rachel!

Excellent timing. Just got
back a moment ago myself.

With rather less to show for
my efforts than you, I must admit!

Congratulations, Rachel.

You've got your man!

Well done, ma'am.

Now all you need to do is get a confession
out of the bastard, so we can all go home!

You don't mind if I watch, do you?

I'm sure you two can break
a scumbag like Whitlock in your sleep.

It'll be an education for me!

Of course.

- Tom, resume work on Veritas.
- Ma'am.

- Command of the room is yours, sir.
- Tom.

Rachel?!

You alright?
You look like you've seen a ghost?

Don't worry.
Nothing's gonna come back to haunt you.

At least, I can't imagine why it would?

You and I should
probably have a good catch up.

As soon as we, come up for air?
You know a really good heart-to-heart.

There's only one way through this, Rachel.
For me and for you.

What's that?

Together.

Right before we start, I'd just like
to confirm that you're James Whitlock,

of 18 Moors Drive, Lewisham,
South London SE13 6RM.

Does he look like he has a few minutes?!

You know what, fuck it!
Cut his right arm loose.

If you're a leftie, son,
you're outta fucking luck.

Secure the prisoner.

Wow, at times like these,
you really find out who you can count on!

I thought somebody might show up?!

- We're all alone in this world, Frank.
- No!

Nobody's coming for you or me, pal.

The only fucker
you can count on is yourself.

D'you wanna save yourself, Frank?

Tell me where she is?

Rachel Carey.

Sorry, asshole.
I don't talk to strangers.

What have I gotta do to short-circuit
this prick? Wizard?

Wizard? Gun! Wizard, you chicken shit!
Get the fucking gun!

No hard feelings eh, Frank?

That shit I gave you, before?

'Bout being a scarecrow?

You deserve better than that.

You're not the only one
who's been left out in the field, Frank!

I guess we all get left
out in the field, in the end.

Wizard, you traitorous piece of shit!
Open the door!

Wizard, you motherless prick!
Open the fucking door!

At least you can't
say nobody said it, Frank.

Frank?

Thank you for your service.