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- Richter?

What the hell are you doing here?

You're supposed to be on fraud.

- Can't a guy go out for some lunch?

- Yeah right, you're just driving around

and you happen to hear
about it on the scanner?

- Brilliant, Lieutenant, you
may make commissioner yet.

- Can it, both of you.

All right, here's the deal.

SWAT's on their way, but
they're not gonna do any good,

not if these guys are serious.

- Well, what do they want?

- $50 million.

We got a half an hour to get it to 'em.

Otherwise, they start tossing out bodies.

- Well, I admire their
notion of feasibility.

- They gave us access codes
to accounts in Zurich.

This is almost the 21st
century, Detective.

- Yeah, but it gets worse.

One of the hostages is a
prince, Ahmad Ali Rasuli.

- Prince of what?

- The Republic of Saleh,

an oil-rich country the
size of a postage stamp.

They're hoping to get the money

from the prince's brother, the sultan.

- Got anything in mind?

- Negotiations.

- I like it.

- Cellular modem online.

- The miracle of modern technology.

Access Zurich and see if
they've transferred the money.

- Checking as we speak.

- Your brother better
think very highly of you.

- He will pay, trust me.

- Hey, you in the plane!

- What the hell?

- Keep checking.

Please, don't do anything stupid.

Stefan would love to shoot
each and every one of you.

- Just so you know, nobody gets anything

until I come in and talk.

- There's nothing to discuss, gentlemen.

- Until I come in and see for myself

that all the hostages
are alive and unharmed,

nobody gets one damn dime.

- All right, strip down to your trousers

and empty your pockets.

- It'll never work.

- Got any better ideas, Lieutenant?

- No.

- I didn't think so.

So, just let somebody do something.

- Hands on your head, nothing cute.

Move.

There, you've seen them,
all happy little campers.

Now, what would you say to us

starting the executions a little early?

Bet you didn't count on this.

Any word from the land of chocolate

and unnumbered bank accounts?

- Nothing yet.

- It's all right, there's
a little time left.

- He dead?
- He's dead, oh god!

- You idiot.

You've ruined everything!

- Now, there's gratitude for you.

- All right, let's go.

Everybody outta here.

Let's go, move it.

- Thank you.

- Next time I come up with
another one of my great ideas,

why don't you go ahead
and shoot me right there

and get it over with?

- Mace, come on in.

There's somebody I want you to meet.

- Detective Richter,
do you actually intend

to stick by this blatant
crock of a report?

- Captain, I don't understand.

Who is this?

- Charles Patterson, State Department.

- I'm here to clean up the crap you spewed

with this afternoon's Wild Bunch routine.

- I got the job done.

What the hell do you want?

- You also got two people killed,

one of which happens to be the brother

of Sultan Mohammad Ali Rasuli.

- Who was one of the hijackers.

Look, it's in the report.

- You've got quite an
imagination, Detective.

Now you write a book
while you're in prison.

- Prison?

- Wait just one minute here,
Patterson, you're not--

- Detective Richter will stand trial.

That's the only way to smooth things over.

Our relations with this
country are strained already.

Now Detective Richter stands trial.

- Ah, that's bullshit!

- That's life.

Captain Hightower, do your duty.

- Hey, wait,
wait, wait one second here.

There's gotta be another way.

- One more word and you go with him.

- Dammit.

They're feeding me to the wolves!

- Yeah, all for a couple of lousy gallons

of what used to be a dead dinosaur.

- Son of a bitch.

- I still got some favors up
at the DA's office, all right?

I know what they would advise
you to do: plead guilty.

Just listen to me, okay?

You plead guilty, you do
six months in Innsmouth,

maybe then we knock you out
to an honor farm for 60 days.

That's the best we can probably do.

- Thanks, Captain, but what about my job?

- We'll blow that bridge
when we get to it.

- Terrific.

- Richard.

Richard, are you home?

- Yeah, I'm
upstairs in the office.

- Hi, honey.

Working kinda late, aren't we?

- Yeah, big story went down before I left.

The only way I could get the assignment

was to agree to have this done overnight.

- Big?

How big is big?

Somebody shoot the mayor?

- No, better than that.

Remember those hijackers that
were sentenced last week?

- Yeah, the ones on the plane, I remember.

- Yeah, well someone busted them out.

Real shoot-em-up stuff.

- This Murdock character,

isn't he the one you
roasted during the trial?

- Yeah, and he's gonna
make us a lot more money.

Look, Gail, could you go downstairs,

put the groceries away, something?

I really need to finish
this article, okay?

- You give me 20 minutes
and I will give you

two hours of peace and quiet.

- Oh, the things I do to get ahead.

Hey.

Hey!

- I told you not to write about me.

But I guess this evens things out some.

Thanks.

- Amidst the frenzy of
public outcry, budget woes,

and design and construction snafus,

Innsmouth's federal penitentiary

is finally due to go online
almost a year behind schedule.

- Are these the new prisoners?

- Yeah.

- Okay, you're clear to go.

Open the gate.

- Even though Innsmouth Prison's

formal opening is still days away,

prisoners are beginning to be transferred

from the Los Angeles County Jail.

- All right, come on.

Come on, you know the drill.

All right, come on.

Come on.

Come on, step it up.

Come on, move it!

All right.

You, right here, face front.

You, right there.

You, right over here.

You, right there.

I got a special place for you.

- These first five
consist of Glen Jackson,

the self-described patriot
whose near-successful attempt

at blowing up the IRS' main computer

earned him a 20-year stint.

Harrison Edward O'Reilly
III, the famous S&L bandit

currently serving 15 years

for his masterminding the
national savings scheme.

Jesus Gonzalez, kidnapper, doing 15 years.

Carl Croaker, doing 10 years
for second-degree murder.

And lastly, Mason Richter,
the police officer

convicted of the wrongful
deaths of two persons

stemming from the terrorist hijacking

of Flight 544 out of LAX.

- This place gives me the creeps.

- I know, me too.

- Set up right here?

- Yeah, right over there's good.

Great.

- Rolling.

- I'm Tracy Quinn.

Come along as we tour
this high-tech facility

and perhaps chat one-on-one

with some of the deadliest men alive,

coming up live for the next
hour on American Encounters.

Okay, cut.

- Perfect, babe, beautiful.

- Look, I can't tell an audience
we're live when we're not.

- Nobody'll know the difference.

- Ladies and gentlemen, if I
may please have your attention.

I'm William Glover, the
warden of Innsmouth Prison.

It's a pleasure to have you here today.

We'll begin by showing you the grounds.

- Warden, how do you feel about having

hundreds of murderers and rapists

in the middle of a major metropolis?

- Well, I understand your concern.

But if you'll bear with me--

- Do you have a family, Warden?

- I have a wife and two
children, both daughters.

They do, in fact, live
here in Los Angeles.

That should tell you how confident I am

in the integrity of this facility.

Now, let's get started.

If you'll follow me.

If you look around,

you'll see that these
cells are state-of-the-art.

No bars, just steel doors
with Lexan viewing ports.

- Well, can the prisoners
talk to one another?

- Miss Quinn, is it?

We prefer the term guest to prisoner.

If you look at the floor by each door,

you'll notice a steel wedge

so that contraband can't
be passed back and forth,

but this is by no means soundproof.

- There doesn't seem to be any privacy.

Doesn't that constitute
cruel and unusual punishment?

- Well, not as such.

But all that aside, the prison authority

has decided to keep in
step with the times,

as far as rehabilitation is concerned.

The days of dishwashing

and making license plate frames are over.

We teach literacy, computer
science, and other career skills

that will carry them
into the 21st century.

- Nice dodge.

- I know.

- What's in the truck?

- Just some food and things.

- Okay, pull inside, I gotta check it out.

Open the gate.

Sorry, I gotta check the back.

- I figured as much.

- Close the front gate, please.

- So, as you can see,

this infirmary will have most
of the advanced equipment

you can find in any hospital.

There'll be X-ray and MRI machines,

as well as hot tubs,
sitz baths and so forth.

- Come on, Warden.

I mean, isn't this just
another form of loafing?

Where's the value in this?

How does this help society?

- Fiscally.

By employing our staff
of resident physicians,

we can keep the state's
cost of guest treatment

to a fraction of what it would be

if we transferred them to a hospital.

To boot, leading experts
agree that a healthy body

is the quickest route to a healthy mind,

and a healthier mind is
easier to rehabilitate.

- Well, I hope your experts
are correct, Warden.

I mean, it would be a shame
if innocent people had to die

to prove them wrong.

- Who are you, sir?

What media service do you represent?

- Harry Chapel, Independent Herald.

- I thought so.

Mr. Chapel, if you'd like to
represent your scandal sheet

for the duration of this
tour, I suggest you keep

your snide remarks and asides to yourself.

Very well.

Onward and upward, as they say.

- That was fun.

- Take a good look at that guy, Chapel.

- Why?

- I used to
work for the Independent

and I don't recognize him.

- Maybe he's a newbie.

- And maybe I'm the Pope.

- No chance of that.

You'd look funny in that pointy hat.

Here we go.

- Well, all right.

- Hey, fat boy, why don't
you take the top bunk?

I'm afraid of heights.

- No, I don't think so.

I like this just fine.

- Ah, your mother's a whore.

- Sure,

but she learned everything she
knows from yours.

- Baby, I've got
what you need.

- Hey, hey Jackson, what is it?

- Well, it ain't your mama, Kojak.

- No, but she can be my mama.

- Richter, do you see her?!

- Nope.

- I can't see
anything from in here!

- You guys have been in here too long.

- They're coming back in.

- You want some breath spray?

- Shut up.

- While the exterior may seem no different

from any other prison,

its walls contain
sophisticated soundproofing

and other noise-baffling materials.

Not that it'll ever happen here,

but a full-scale riot could
occur within these walls

and the neighbors wouldn't even know it.

- How thoughtful.

- If you'd like to
continue your tour inside,

I'll be right with you.

Hey gatehouse, this is Warden Glover.

Acknowledge.

- Front gate, go ahead.

- What's this truck doing back here?

- Early
delivery, kitchen supplies.

Checked it out personally;
everything looks fine, sir.

- Fine, carry on.

- Dumb bastard.

- Hey, you guys can't
bring that stuff in here.

- Our supervisor told us to.

- Oh yeah, well what's his name?

- Okay, you got me.

I'm lying.

- As you can see, this area
is solitary confinement.

- Warden, would it be possible

to visit the prisoners on-site?

- The guests aren't monkeys
for you to toss bananas to.

- How'd that politically correct asshole

ever get to be warden?

- I'm sorry I asked.

- I'm getting used to it.

Follow me, please.

This is the administrative area.

There are over 50 separate offices

and twice that number of work cubicles.

- Well, I guess a person could
live pretty comfortably here.

- Cute.

- This is all well and good, Warden,

but what about the anti-escape measures

we've all heard so much about?

- I'm not about to give
up all our secrets.

After all, a machine
designed by a human mind

can be defeated by a human mind.

But I will tell you this:
Innsmouth is quite secure.

That concludes our tour.

- Great, what about the grub?

- Excuse me?

- What the hell, man?

I mean, half-a-billion
bucks into this monstrosity

and you guys can't spring
for a couple of carrot sticks

and some watery punch?

- Thank you for your time.

- Christ.

- Warden Glover.

Wait.

Warden Glover, wait.

Wait!

- No, Miss Quinn, you absolutely cannot

speak with the guests.

Now, if you will excuse me--

- Look, that's not exactly
what I had in mind.

- I'm afraid I don't understand.

- I'd like a few moments of
your time, with just you.

- Me?

Why?

- Well, I think the
public would like to know

about the man behind the machine.

I mean, you seem like an interesting guy,

not the usual hanging judge type.

- Well, I really don't like the limelight,

but in the interest of public information,

I suppose I could spare a few minutes.

- Great.

- Come with me, I know a shortcut.

- You devious wench.

- I'm gonna interview
those guys if it kills me.

- Well, looks like the last
of the reporters just split.

- I'm glad this PR crap is over with.

Now things can get back
to normal around here.

- You said it, brother.

- You really don't wanna make
my life difficult, do you?

That's great.

- Actually, I was interviewed
once before, you know.

- No, I didn't know that.

- Yes, it was back when I was a lawyer.

I got a 30-second spot
on KTZZ News in Oxnard.

- A whole 30 seconds, huh?
- Mmm.

Let's go to the main control room.

We can talk more there.

It'll make for a more interesting
backdrop than my office.

- Okay, great.

- So, I really want you to see this.

This is our central control room,

the very heart, very core of the prison.

Everything happens from here.

These screens, these
switches, these controls

oversee the entire operation.

- Warden Glover and
company, so good to see you.

Please, make yourselves comfortable.

We have so much to
discuss in a short time.

- Not much chance of you
being the Pope, now is there?

- Stefan, would you
call for the truck, please?

- We're secure.

Send in the delivery.

- Roger.

- Warden Glover, I would
prefer not to go through

a lengthy Q-and-A session, so
if you would kindly provide

the master override
computer control codes,

we'll be in and out
with a minimum of fuss.

- I can't give them to you.

Why would you want--

- This is what I meant by lengthy.

Perhaps it would help if we shot

this lovely young lady in the head.

- You don't understand.

It would mean my job and
the prison's security.

- Your job or this lady's life.

- I can't do it!

- You'd sacrifice another human being

just to keep your wretched
pencil-pushing job?

I despise bureaucrats.

Bear in mind, you have another hand

and two elbows and knees,

and I have three times that many bullets.

- Three,

three,

two,

seven,

seven.

- There, that wasn't so difficult.

Punch it in.

All points of entry and exit are secured.

The prison is yours.

- What are you up to?

- Exactly what are we up to?

Stefan?

- The end of the world.

- And lucky you, you have a front row seat

and you didn't even have
to pay for it.

Make sure our guests,
that is the correct term,

isn't it, Warden Glover,
are comfortable and docile.

- It's about time.

It's gonna be a pleasure
to see Richter again.

- Mace Richter?

What are you doing, breaking him out?

- Yeah, we're breaking
his soul out of his body.

- Didn't you pay attention a moment ago?

Richter's a bonus.

We're here to get the Fourth of July

off to a very early start.

- Come on, hurry it up.

- Let me bind his hand.

- No way.

- He's gonna bleed to death.

- What do you care?

A minute ago, he was gonna
let the skirt get shot.

- Look, I am not a skirt,
you son of a bitch.

- What the hell, do it.

- Here.

- I can't believe you were
gonna let them shoot me.

- Well, it was nothing personal.

- Yeah, well I'm sure my mother
would've kept that in mind

when she was shopping for a black dress.

- You know, it'd be a damn shame

to let you go to waste, honey.

- Leave her alone.

- Who are you, my keeper?

Come here, baby.

- No!

Jeff!

Jeff!

- Come on, come on.

Come on!

Is it?

- Don't trip unless you
wanna glow in the dark.

Mmm, Katya, my dear, timely as ever.

- Was there ever any doubt, lover?

- Get to work.

I want the timer rigged

and our asses outta here in two hours.

- It's gonna take a little while.

- Just do it.

- There it is.

Miss Quinn, help me!

Miss Quinn, help me!

I need you to type the password
for fire emergency release.

Type A,

slash,

semicolon,

three, two, one.

- Well, what did we just do?

- We opened every door in the place.

- It's open, man!

- Dammit, it's always something.

You keep after it; I don't
give a damn what happens.

- We'll take a shortcut to the main gate,

get out from there.

- Well, let's go!

- It's gotta be a fire or
something, man, it's a fire!

- That's cool, let's ride.

- And if it's only a malfunction,

then we get shot by the turnkeys.

- I ain't cooking my off in here.

- May I suggest that we
investigate this carefully?

- Yeah, that's the best
advice I've heard yet.

Let's hit it.

- Command core, come in.

Respond.

All teams seal off the main exits.

Do not let the hostages escape.

- Man.

Murdock.

- Go ahead.

- The prisoners are loose.

- Say again?

- The doors are open; they're gone.

- Richter.

Son of a bitch.

Why don't you go to
command core immediately?

- I'm gonna go look for him.

- You follow orders!

Command core, now.

Shoot anyone unfamiliar to you, anyone!

- Hey, what the hell's going on up there?

- Look at that.

- Move!

- Get 'em!

- I'm on it.

- I think this way, man.

Go over here!

This way, man.

Turn around!

- This is John.

I lost their trail.

I'm coming back.

Out.

Hold it!

All right, let's go.

Turn around!

- Take it easy, pal.

- Turn around!

- All right, all right.

Croaker!

- What the hell happened to you?

- Boyfriend sucker punched me.

- Jesus Christ.

They did something to the system, fix it.

- Well, how can I do that when
I don't know what they did?

- Be clever.

- Help me!

Damn you, help me!

Damn you, help me!

- Come on baby, fight me baby, come on!

- Help me.
- Come on, baby.

Fight me baby, come on!

- Let go of me.

- For god sakes, open the gate!

- What's the problem, Warden?

- Are you blind?

The prison's under attack!

- Yeah, I've been watching it on TV.

Ain't it a bitch?

- Speed it up, kid.

We can't let the mice
off the sinking ship.

- I'm hurrying!

I'm hurrying.

Done.

We're secure.

- Congratulations.

Get the crates.

- That's it.

That's it.

That's it.

That's it.

Now you're gonna get what's
coming to you, bitch.

- I think you got that
just backwards, pal.

- It's cool, jefe.

- You all right?

- You all right, pal?

- Yeah, yeah, I'm okay.

- Let's join the rest of the bird gang.

- Yeah, yeah, that's a good idea.

- Come here.

- Look, it's all right.

I'm not gonna hurt you, okay?

Please.

What's your name?

- Tracy.

Tracy Quinn.

- What the hell are you doing in here?

- I'm a journalist.

A bunch of us were taking a tour.

- What can you tell me
about what's been going on?

- Look, all I know is a bunch
of armed guys stormed in.

They killed my cameraman, Jeff,
and a couple other people.

- Yeah, well how many did you see?

- I don't know, maybe six?

- No, no, I wouldn't
try to take this place

with less than 10.

Well, welcome to Club Fed, Tracy.

Better get some ice on that eye.

And you.

You just be glad that
you're worth more to me

alive than dead right now.

- Yeah?

You just put the gun down
and we'll see, big shot.

- There was one other guy.

The leader radioed him before
he left with this biker guy.

- What, white supremacist maybe?

- Maybe.

No, he had a very icy look
with a nasty scar on his face.

I think his name was Stephen or--

- Stefan?

- Yeah, that was it.

- And the guy giving the orders,

what exactly did he look like?

- He was tall, about six feet
maybe, with grayish hair.

His name was--

- Murdock.

Son of a bitch.

- What, you know these jotos?

- Yeah, we've met.

And chances are he knows

we're running around here loose too,

so we better continue this
conversation somewhere else.

- No way, man.

We gotta get outta here.

- It's too late.

They've already relocked all of the doors.

- That's great, we're dead.

- No, not if we play our cards right.

All right, let's go.

- Where you going?

- This way.

- This way.
- That way, this way.

- Satellite array set up
and ready to transmit.

- And the microwave TV jammer?

- Also online.

- Where's the communication satellite?

- It should be in place in five minutes.

- Well, Mr. Stefan, are
you ready to write history?

- I don't give a damn about history.

I just want the little bastard.

- My friend, we've gone to
considerable time and trouble

to make this little tea party possible.

I'd hate to see it screwed up

because of your lack of self-discipline.

- Don't worry about me, Murdock.

I'm a professional.

- And as a professional, you're
making millions for this.

- I would've done it for free,

just to get my hands on Richter.

- And go find the little shit.

He's got great
wrench-in-the-works potential.

A little vanity can make a man go crazy.

- This don't look so good.

- Don't be too anxious.

- All right, look, I want
you to stay out here.

If you see or hear anything, let me know.

- Hey man, I--

- You got a problem with that?

- No I don't, man.

- All right, let's go
take a look at that eye.

Here, put this on that eye.

- Thanks.

You know, you're pretty
nice for a, well, you know.

- Not all of us psychotics
foam at the mouth,

just so you know.

- Sorry.

I didn't mean to imply that.

- Skip it.

No offense taken.

- I didn't catch your name.

And don't you dare say, "It's
because I didn't throw it."

- Mace Richter.

- The cop who shot the prince?

You don't seem like the type.

- Well, that depends on who you believe.

- Hey.

- Hey, hey, you son of a.

Where did you get that?

- Don't worry about it, man.

- There's a
lot more to the story

than what you and your buddies reported.

- So, what happened?

- Well, the prince was
in on the hijacking.

- No way!

- Yeah, straight up.

He was trying to extort
money from his own brother.

- Well then, why didn't
one of the hostages

come forward at your trial?

- Well, they were questioned,

but none of 'em saw a damn thing.

They all had their heads down.

I took the fall to keep a
couple of Washington fat cats

happy with their buddy, the sultan.

- That's hard to believe.

- Tell me about it.

Better yet, Murdock and Stefan
were on their way to the pen

when their van got ambushed,

probably by the same bunch of
guys he's got with him today.

Now, you talk about irony.

- Do you have any idea
who these assholes are?

- I don't know, but they're
cooking up something nasty

down in the cell block with a machine.

- Come again?

- I think they got a friggin'
bomb down in the cell block.

- Bullshit.

- Look, I may look dumb,
but I know the difference

between bomb and an alarm clock in a box.

- What type of idiot
would blow up a prison?

- I don't know, but we better
think of something fast.

Let's get outta here.

- If I hadn't been so damn ambitious,

I'd be at home soaking
in a jacuzzi right now.

- You lost me.

- I was supposed to leave
at the end of the tour.

But instead, I had to try and be greedy

and get an interview with you guys.

- And instead, you got
caught in the middle.

- It's just, it's so damn hard

being a woman in the news business.

I'm as good as the rest of them.

But the only reason that they
bothered to keep me around

is for eye candy.

- I'll tell you what.

If we get outta here alive,

I'll let you interview me
'til Hell freezes over.

- Well, in that case, I hope we live.

- Okay, let's hit it.

Do not adjust your television set.

We control the vertical
and the horizontal.

- Please pardon the interruption

to your Western decadent programming.

Two months ago, several hundred
was liberated

from a Russian armory in Kyrgyzstan.

My brothers in the Holy Black Jihad

have planted in a public building

somewhere in this city.

You Americans are known

for not taking seriously such threats.

- You watching this, Captain?

- Come on.

- Therefore, you may
spend the next two hours

wondering where the bomb is.

When explodes, you will
know we are serious.

Only then, you will receive our demands.

- All right, get SWAT and the
bomb disposal team on standby

and every street cop on tactical alert.

- But what if they're bluffing?

- And what if it's parked
right under our asses?

Come on, I got two kids out there.

What if it's under some food
court table in the Galleria?

Just move, will you, Burke?

- If that doesn't work, nothing will.

- Were you able
to tell what they're up to?

- They seem to want the prison.

- Knowing these bastards,

that's just the tip of the iceberg.

Here, take this.

- I don't like knives.

- Me either.

But look, let me show you something.

Forget that Norman Bates stuff, okay?

If you hold it like this,

it'll be less easily taken away from you.

Also, it's better to slash than
stab; the wounds are bigger.

- You are so romantic.

- Oh yeah, I've learned a
lot since being in here.

What?

- Over there, over there.

- All right, we'll jump 'em on three.

Let's go.

One.

Two.

Three.

- Richter?

- It's good to see you too, Jackson.

Listen, we gotta continue
this party somewhere else

before the host shows up.

We got major problems.

- Damn right.

You won't believe what
I saw, a friggin' bomb.

- Yeah, and that's the
thing, I do believe you.

- No way.

- Yeah.

You guys don't know it, but I
know at least two of the guys

responsible for this mess.

- You run in some damn
strange circles, Richter.

- Yeah, you don't know the half of it.

When I first met Murdock, the leader,

he was hijacking a 747.

He would've gotten away with it too.

These guys are professionals.

- So, why didn't they?

- I was a professional too.

- What the hell?

Why nuke a federal can?

- Murdock's a mercenary.

The guy'll work for anybody.

This guy is so far to the right,

he makes Genghis Khan look
like a bleeding heart.

- Oh great.

In other words,

the wrong guy to have
his finger on the button.

- Yeah, good call.

All right, look, if we're gonna mount

any kind of an offensive,

we need a clear idea of
the layout of this place.

- No way, man.

Count me out, I say.

- Yeah, I'm with Gonzales.

- Do you remember what I said

about you being more valuable
to me alive than dead?

You're beginning to change my mind.

- What's wrong with you?

You need to wake up

and smell the pot you've
been smoking, man.

If we don't come together
and stop these assholes,

we're all gonna die.

- Jackson's right.

We got no other choice, the way I see it.

- All right, look, the only one of us

who knows this place inside and out is...

- Katya, my dear, what's
our time situation?

- The integral fuse is linked
with the digital timer.

We can begin whenever you want.

- Armageddon, here we come.

- We, darling?

- Figure of speech.

I'm not about to go up in a
10-million-degree dutch oven.

- You had me worried for a minute.

- Forget it.

Once Stefan puts Richter's ass
on ice, we're Barbados-bound.

- And that's all I know, I swear.

- Okay, you did just fine, kid.

Jackson, blowing stuff up
is what got you in here.

How'd you like to work on
the side of the angels?

- Hey, man, I don't owe
anybody anything.

But for you,
I'll give it my best shot.

- All right, good.

All right, Gonzales, O'Reilly, and Tracy,

the four of us will make our
way to the command center.

Anybody gets in our way--

- We bust a cap on their.

- At least one.

All right.

Jackson and Croaker, you
guys get to play recon.

Now, I want you to go over to
the bomb as close as you can,

but don't touch anything, just observe.

- Sounds like you've
done this before, chief.

- Maybe once or twice.

All right, let's fall out.

The clock's ticking, let's go.

- One thing.

- What?

- Don't ever call me kid again.

- Oh Jesus, come on.

All right, come out you
guys; it's all clear.

- All right, Jackson, here, take this.

Switch to channel two,

but check for traffic every
few minutes on channel one.

Remember, these guys are dangerous.

- Yeah, right.

- Richter!

- Whoa, hey, take it easy, Gonzales.

Don't do anything stupid, man.

- I ain't your vato.

I'm outta here, man.

I ain't no fuckin' hero!

- You're not going anywhere, Jesus.

If the terrorists don't kill you, I will.

- You just keep flapping, Holmes.

Me and the bitch are history.

If you follow us,

I blow her brains all
over the fucking walls!

- Gonzales sure has a way with the ladies.

- All right, we don't have time for this.

Jackson, Croaker, you
two get back to the bomb.

O'Reilly, you come with me.

- Oh, I don't think that's a good idea.

- Come on.

No, no, no.

This.

- I never thought that this was gonna be

part of the prison experience, man.

- I never thought I'd ever be in prison.

- Well, you beat a cop to death,

they throw you in the hole
and lose the key real quick.

- It was an accident.

- Yeah, well, cry me a river, pal.

I've sung that song myself.

It didn't mean shit then,
doesn't mean shit now.

- It really was an accident.

I didn't mean to kill him.

I was in this bar and
this nasty son of a bitch

is throwing a beating to
this tiny little woman!

She was a cute girl, too.

Man, it wasn't right.

So, I punched him.

- Broke his
neck, the way I heard it.

- I hit him harder than I meant to.

- That doesn't make any
difference to me, man.

It's one less cop on the
streets to beat the brothers,

you know what I'm saying?

Don't get all excited.

I blew up something, remember?

- Huh?

- It was in all the papers.

- I don't know how to read.

- Well, when we get outta this, man,

I'll take care of that real quick.

- Come on baby, let's go.

Come on.

- What'd you try and blow up?

- The IR-fucking-S.

Yeah, don't get me wrong, man,
I didn't try to kill nobody.

I'm not like that Aryan brown shirt

that blew up Oklahoma City.

I tried to warn people to get out

so only the building
would blow up, you know?

That was my mistake.

That's what got me nailed.

- Maybe you shouldn't have called.

- Listen, man, I may not
be gentleman of the year,

but I don't kill innocent people,

especially women and children.

I just wanted my message to
be heard, that's all, okay?

- Okay, take it easy.

- I am taking it easy, guy.

My old man lost his job, he lost his home

because of these tax
collecting cockroaches.

He woulda shot himself otherwise.

- I'm sorry, man.

- Yeah, me too.

All right, let's go find a bomb.

- You dumb-ass!

I told you the way out was back that way!

- Shut up, bitch, you don't know nothin'.

- I know enough to know

we've been going in circles, smart ass.

- I'm gonna blow your brains
out if you don't shut up, puta!

- Do it.

At least I won't have to listen

to your stupid macho bullshit anymore.

- Adios, putita.

- Richter?

- Not hardly.

This just isn't your day, is it, honey?

Come on, I'll buy you a soda.

Look what followed me home.

Can't I keep her?

- With manners like that,

how is it you were never
hired by a network?

- Everything's set.

The clock is ticking.

60 minutes and counting.

- Signal the men, we're
extracting in five.

- I still haven't found
Richter yet, dammit.

- If you haven't found him by now,

you're not going to
until he's ready for you.

- What if he disarms the device?

- He won't.

We've incorporated a nasty little surprise

for anybody who happens along.

- No response from anyone
except Quincy at the front gate.

- Look around carefully.

Be back at the truck in five

or have your sunblock from hell ready.

You're a pretty one.

Bruised.

- I had no idea this was such a big place.

- Welcome to the club.

- I wasn't supposed to
be put here, you know.

- Sure.

- No, it's true, there was some mistake.

I was supposed to go to the
minimum security facility

near Santa Ynez.

- So?

- So, my lawyer thinks there
was some kind of mistake.

The judge wasn't as
impartial as he let on.

Or maybe he was bought.

- By who?

A relative of one of the little old ladies

you swindled outta their life savings?

- I didn't swindle anybody.

I was set up.

- Oh, yeah, likely story.

But somehow, it sounds familiar.

- See?

- You a praying man, Croaker?

- I never found
much use for religion.

- Now's a good time to start.

- Ooh, what's that?
- Wait a minute!

Don't touch anything.

- Sorry.
- It's okay.

- Jesus Christ.

Murdock.

Murdock!

- Go on.

- John's toast.

- What?

- His neck's been broken!

- Don't get cute or clever.

Just haul ass to the rendezvous point now.

Don't be late.

- Over.

- You son of a bitch, don't
you even say, "I told you so."

- Rest time's over, pal.

- I'm not going another step.

We could comb this place 10 times

and never find Gonzales and the girl.

- Yeah, you're damn right we
could, and we will if need be.

- Well then, you're gonna
do it by yourself, Rambo,

I'm sitting this one out.

- Have you forgotten about
a little thing called a bomb

sitting right underneath our asses?

- I doubt there's any such thing.

Croaker's the only guy that saw it

and he's a functional illiterate.

- Shh, shh.

Listen.

Come on, O'Reilly, move your!

- Come on, darling, time's a-wasting.

- I killed him.

- Yeah.

I'd say that sums it up pretty good.

Come on.

- Get moving!

- I have an urgent message
for Captain Hightower.

- I'm sorry,
the captain's in a meeting.

Is there someone else?

- This is Detective Mace
Richter over at Innsmouth.

There's a bomb here about ready to go off.

Now, put me through to
Captain Hightower right now.

- Innsmouth, right away.

- Mace, that you?

- Yeah, it's me.

Listen, I don't have a lotta time.

Get the bomb squad over
to Innsmouth right away.

There's a bomb here

and I have reason to believe
that it's counting down.

- Oh, Jesus.

And how many Jihad members they got?

- Jihad?

No, no,
you've been had, Captain.

These guys are as white as sliced bread.

And my old buddy Murdock is at the wheel.

- Murdock.

Well, I hope you bagged him.

Not yet, but it's still early.

- All right,
well you stall him.

Do anything you have
to until we get there.

- Bet on it.

- Burke!

Get in here.

- What is it?

- Get a bomb squad and SWAT

over to Innsmouth Prison right now.

- Innsmouth?!

- Yeah.

The bomb, Burke, it's there.

- How'd you know?

- My fairy godmother.

Burke, will you come on?

- Richter!

- Man, I thought these guys

were supposed to be professional.

This is gonna be a piece
of cake.

- Is that so?

Hands up, jailbirds.

Get away from the bomb, now.

Stefan, you there?

You there, Stefan?

Respond.

Stefan, respond.

- Oh yeah,

Richter probably fucked him up real good.

- Oh, that's hilarious.

- Son of a...

- I bet that hurts like a
son of a bitch, doesn't it?

- Somebody must be paying
you real good money

to be doing this.

Who is it, the Iraqis?

Or is it Syrians?

- Love of money's the
root of all evil, friend.

This one is on the house.

- I don't get it.

- Naturally.

You're part of the problem.

Right now, those big wigs
are busting their ass,

trying to accommodate that
towel-headed son of a bitch

that they think runs this prison.

Let me tell you something.

When the blast goes off,

those Washington wimps are gonna be forced

to wage a holy war

against those ever-loving
motherfuckin' Arabs.

Those camel jockeys are gonna be

put on the Concorde to hell.

- Beautiful, great speech!

When do you pass out the collection plate?

- Oh, right about now.

- Richter?

- Okay, I got you.

I got you.

- Richter.

Richter!

We got a problem.

- How bad of a problem?

- On the bad scale,
we're about to be smoked

like a five-cent cigar, man.

- Christ.

- Chinese wiring, man.

Only an idiot would use this.

- Cut the red one.

Come on, do it!

Look, 10 seconds, man.

Whatever you're gonna
do, you better do it now!

- How did you know it was the red one?

- Oh, I didn't.

- I better change my shorts.

- Croaker.

Croaker, hang on man,
the cavalry's on its way.

- They ain't gonna get here in time.

Hey, pal.

That reading stuff,
that would've been fun.

- Hell of a guy.

- Yeah.

Look, let's get outta here.

- No, I'm gonna hang here for a minute.

- Yeah, sure.

Come on, I got you.

Come on, let's go.

You got it?

- Richter!

Where the hell you get off

throwing this kind of a
picnic and not inviting me?

Good to have you back, Mace, good work.

Hi ma'am, Jesse Hightower, LAPD.

- Tracy Quinn.

- The reporter?

Well, keep a close eye on her, huh Mace?

I think you remember
Patterson here, don't you?

State Department?

- Yeah, unfortunately.

- I understand there was
no foreign involvement

in this matter.

- Strictly homespun.

- I want a full immediate debriefing.

That is, if a governor's
pardon interests you.

- He's on the level, Mace.

After this little set-to,

I guess we figured you
deserved a clean slate.

- Well, only if he gets one too.

- I don't know, that's iffy.

- Come on, Patterson, you tight ass.

Cut the guy a break, will you?

- All right, all right, it's done.

I expect you at the federal building

as soon as the EMTs are done with you.

- Oh, by the way, I got a job
waiting for you too, you know.

- I don't think this one's done yet.

- See you on Monday.

- What about you?

You got a job for me too?

- You bet your ass, 5-0.