All language subtitles for Mort.D.Un.Pourri.1977.720p.BluRay.x264-PHOBOS.en

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Death of a Corrupt Man

Xav...

Do you love me?

Tell me you love me.

Go to sleep.

Why don't you ever say it?
I say it all the time.

Why don't we live together?

I'm bugging you, huh?

Not at all...

Tell me you love me.

Tell me I'm bugging you.

That sounds like a song.

Shit, I don't believe it.

Once it starts...

- Meaning?
- Go to sleep.

Who is it?

It's me. Philippe.

Are you alone?

She's sleeping.

What time is it?

It's 5 AM. The speaking clock
could have told you that.

I've screwed up.

Badly?

Horrifically.

Serrano.

I killed him.

Xav!

Who is it?

No one. Go to sleep.

Serrano was a bastard.

Didn't he help you get elected?

Yes, he did.

That was the start of the spiral.

And the advantages.

Yes, I made money.

Not billions,
but real estate deals,

planning authorizations,
building permits, expropriations.

One day, I said, "Enough."

So Serrano brought out letters,
receipts...

Like a jerk, I got drugged back in.

That's how it is with corruption.

2 or 3 risky deals.
Remember the Vaugirard one?

Afterwards,
that shit felt that my image

wasn't very clean-cut.

Serrano acting pure!

Not bad, huh?

I understand now.

The group wants Dupaire
to have my seat

at the next elections.

Dupaire in my place...
What a dumb idea!

That means the end
of my political career and the rest.

When I got to Serrano's last night,

my resignation was ready,
just waiting to be signed.

If not, he'd go to the press.

He had my file there,
3 or 4 typed pages.

He put it in his safe.

He didn't lock if.

He said,
"Politics isn't everything."

He was mocking me.

I saw red. I slapped him.

We fought.

He was about to strangle me.
To defend myself,

I grabbed a paperweight.

If could have been anything.

He fell.

I didn't think I'd hit him that hard.

There.

When did all that happen?

Last night at around 10.

What did you do after?

There was a night session
at Parliament.

I put in an appearance.

When I got to the chamber,

it was about 11 PM.

10 to 11, that's quite a gap.

I know.

What about you?

What were you doing then?

I was with you.

Right...

Listen, we had dinner together
at home with Christiane.

At 10:30, I went to the House.
Now I'm going home.

Did you meet anyone?

Kébir.

He's ok...

I'll see you at lunch.

Hold on...

Serrano's place will be busy.
You should show your face.

I know.
I should go there but...

I'll go.

Thank you.

What's wrong?

A snug.

You saw Xav?

And?

We spent the evening together.
Him, you and me.

Here's the news.

The deputy Serrano was found dead
in his office today.

Do I see you tonight?

- Apparently murdered.
- I'll call you.

But, first of all, a witness
questioned by our reporter.

You wash the windows?

Yes, I do.

You found him of 9 o'clock?

When the bureaucrats got here,
we'd been wiping away 2 hours.

Where were you exactly?

Up there.

West side, 32nd floor.

And?

I was wiping, right to left.
Wiping away.

Then I see this guy slumped

over his desk.
I stop work.

I didn't know
if he was asleep or drunk.

I showed my colleague.
I knocked but the guy didn't hear me.

Obviously!
It wasn't normal.

You called the police right away?

No phone up there.
I wasn't going to jump.

Mr Serrano had his offices
in the Défense business district.

His real estate dealings...

I'm Mr Maréchal,
I represent Mr Dubaye.

Wait here.

The scum turn up
in their official cars...

One scumbag killed another.

It's this gentleman, sir.

Are you Mr Maréchal?
Come with me.

You're expected on the 32nd floor.

No, stay out here.

My colleague, Morot,

from the Crime Unit.

Mr Serrano's death
must be a shock for Mr Dubaye.

They were very close, I think.

We would have liked to...
I nearly said "question"...

We would have like to know
how he feels about this tragic death.

Mr Dubaye asked me
to represent him.

A parliamentary commission
convened this morning following...

Serrano's death.

Could you tell us

where and when Mr Dubaye
saw Mr Serrano for the last time?

No, but where and when
I saw Mr Dubaye, I can.

Last night.

At around 11 PM.

We had dinner together.

And, of course, Mrs Dubaye...

Had cooked a wonderful meal
as usual.

I have no doubt about that.

Food matters in France.

Mr Maréchal,
you're a go-between

and all these questions
may surprise you.

But you'll be even more surprised
to hear

that this murder was inevitable.

With the documents he held,
Mr Serrano was a man to fear.

And one cannot be feared forever.

A political crime?

Political and financial.

But not in the usual sense.

Theft wasn't the motive.
We found 8 million in the safe.

But Mr Serrano kept a diary.

You have no idea

what it contains?

- No.
- Something is wrong.

There must be some confusion about...

Mrs Dubaye's cooking last night.

Durieu.

The press can wait.

I'll fetch her.

Mr Maréchal's statement

concerning Mr Dubaye's schedule...
I nearly said his alibi...

a statement I'm sure he'll repeat
under oath,

doesn't match

the one by...

By Miss Braco?

Marcelline Braco, that's right,
Mr Serrano's secretary.

If you please...

Hello.

Hello.

Miss Braco,

can you repeat what you told me

about Mr Dubaye?

Mr Serrano said he was seeing
Mr Dubaye yesterday evening.

At what time?

At around 10 PM, here.

Did you know, Mr Maréchal?

No, but perhaps Mr Serrano cancelled
without telling Miss Braco.

In theory...

He never took a leak
without telling you?

Of course he did.

Very good. Thank you.

She called the police.

While waiting for us,
she could have stolen the book.

What book?

The diary...
The file I told you about.

It was stolen?

You didn't know?

How could I have guessed?

You said, "Theft wasn't the motive."
Now a file's been stolen...

What do you call theft?
Are you sure of the crime at least?

You may go,

Mr Maréchal.

Thank you for coming here

and responding so good-naturedly
to our cunning.

Next time, we'll try...
There won't be a next time, right?

I'm afraid not. I would have liked
to see Mr Maréchal perform

the stolen book sketch again.
Truly excellent.

The secretary sketch was good too.

Gentlemen,

I'm at your disposal.

Thank you.

Hello, Mr Xavier.

Hello, Françoise.

The Dutch keep on asking...

What?

I don't know
but they sent chocolates.

I think they want to delay
the draft for the 15th.

Eat the chocolates
and say I'm away until the 16th.

What's this?

Mr Fondari called.
He said it was urgent.

Mr Fondari, please.

Mr Fondari for Mr Maréchal,
please.

You know about Serrano?

I have to see you.

Is that necessary?

It's very important.

Mr Brumaire, Mr Lalo.

Mr Maréchal.

A drink?

A champagne kir.

Marcel!
2 champagne kirs, please.

Serrano's secretary
knew you were meeting him.

Shit!

She's a dumb bitch.
Where are those kirs?

Coming up, sir.

Know Morot in the Crime Unit?

No. Why?

Because he isn't dumb.

He's sly.
He doesn't believe your alibi.

He'll have to.

Not necessarily.

He also mentioned
a book that's missing.

I can imagine.

We'll talk about it tonight.

Eating with us?

I'm seeing Fondari.

Fondari?

Here's Christiane.

- Counsellor Lacor.
- Just a second, sir.

Hello, Xav.

Hello, Philippe.

President...

Gentlemen...
Delighted to see you.

Not a word on the Serrano case.
Do you know anything?

You're beautiful.

Alcohol preserves.

- That's stupid.
- No, it's vulgar.

- You should stop her from drinking.
- Yes, you should.

Tell me at home.
We haven't seen you since...

Last night.

It's true.
You should stop drinking.

I was joking.

Your table's ready, sir.

Wonderful.

Tell me...

- Fondari didn't want me to come?
- He invited me, that's all.

What were they like?

Who?

The cops.

Professional. Nothing more.

They're still unearthing stuff.

You know Morot?

He's competent.

They mentioned the book?

It's all people talk about.

They asked if I knew about it.
I said I didn't.

I'm asking you now.

I knew he kept a diary.

Who did he blackmail?

No one.

I don't think he blackmailed people.
He had a hold on them.

And because of that nuance...

While he had that book,
there was a semblance of order.

People are afraid of seeing it
in the wrong person's hands.

I'm not involved.

Nor is Philippe.

- Mr Tomsky...
- President!

I haven't reserved.

No mutter.
Mr Tomsky's table!

There'll always be a table for you.
Right over here.

Enjoy your lunch.

I recommend the turbot.

What do you want?

Xav...
That book must be found.

Or the killer.

Same thing.

Not exactly.

A call for you, Mr Maréchal.

Thank you.

Yes?

Hello, it's Kébir.

Your office told me
where to find you.

The police were at your place.

They questioned the janitor,
then she came down here.

She wanted to know
when you got back, if you went out

and if I'd seen Philippe's car.

Thanks for letting me know.

Yes, of course.

I'll call you back.

Goodbye.

Philippe says hello.

You could have put him on.

Did the cops ask about him?

We should sing the some tune.

Philippe was with me.

Yes, of course.

Like I said, I'm not involved.

But, for friends of mine,
that book is a disaster.

You and Philippe
have to realize that.

If you two know anything,
tell me.

If not, believe me,
we're all heading for trouble.

You think I'm stupid?

The police call it
the "Serrano file"

and Fondari "the book".
What is it?

What are you playing at?

If only I knew.

Your 3 pages are how many now?

All right...

Serrano kept a diary
in which he noted the...

the amounts and dates
of certain transactions.

And the recipients' names.

Imagine what that means
prior to the elections?

Someone involved
in property scandals or bribery

isn't a very clean candidate.

So the candidate vanishes.

With that weapon, Serrano ruled.

- Long live the new king!
- I'm not like that.

So destroy the book!

I've considered it.

But politically...

I hate that kind of politics.

I have to put up
with those politics!

Don't worry,
I'm not after revenge.

If I'm named minister...

In your dreams!

What do you mean?

Let me explain.

For now, you're a suspect.

The cops questioned me,
Kébir and Braco.

Then it'll be your wife and Fondari
to destroy our alibi.

If they find the file at your place,
you've had it!

It's not at my place.
I'm not stupid.

I put a little money
in a project in Rocquencourt...

In your name?

A real estate company.

Under your name?

Yes, but with others!

Screw them!

In 48 hours,
the cops will have found it

and searched the place.

Unless Fondari
burgles you tonight.

The way to make sure
everyone arrives too late

is to get there first.

Not keen?

Not really, no.

With Fondari and the cops,
you've got me scared now.

Know why I'm off to Lyon?

A hydraulic pump deal done by phone.

But that way I'll get some peace.
Just a little peace.

You should have said.

I'll fetch the file.

I'll draw you a map.

I know Rocquencourt...

Everyone gets lost there.

Come and see.

Hello? Kébir?

It's Xavier.

Can you borrow a car for 2 hours?

You'll be doing
me a big favour.

I'll meet you at the corner
of the ring road

and the Pontoise road
in half an hour.

See you there.

Here you go...

Head towards Suresnes.

You hit the old road to Versailles.

You'll see some housing blocks.

Building D. 2nd floor, 2nd door
to the left of the lift. Got that?

D. 2nd floor, 2nd left.

In the far bedroom,
there's a Chinese dresser.

The middle drawer is locked.

You'll also see...
a young woman.

In the far bedroom too?

- A friend who was evicted and...
- Philippe...

What?

Christiane confides in you,
you know that Lacor...

Shall I put the file
in a railway station locker?

Good idea.

See you later.

See you.

Let the lady in the far bedroom
know I'm coming.

Your car broke down?

I was afraid the cops
would be watching the office.

Turn at the racetrack.

We're being followed.

Speed up.

They were watching
and followed me.

Kébir...

Get away, Xav.

Get away.

- Philippe called?
- Your name?

Xav.

Get dressed. We're leaving.

- Philippe isn't going to Lyon?
- He is.

He isn't picking me up?

He didn't tell you?

He said,
"Xavier will explain."

- He didn't.
- He did.

He didn't say "Xavier".

No, but I don't like "Xav".

Me neither.

Hurry.
They mustn't find you here.

Who? Why?

To kill you.

Wait.

- Got your keys and papers?
- Yes.

Leave the light on.

What's going on?

- Another exit?
- What?

- Another exit?
- The service door.

It's Philippe's life.
Vanish.

Tomorrow, 3 PM at Montparnasse.

Good evening.

My car!

Marthe! He's stealing the car!

Bring me back my car!

It's me, Philippe.

"Are you alone?"
Know how many asked me that?

Know how many coffees I've had?

Know how long I've been waiting?

What happened?

Christiane, did I wake you?

Listen...

Philippe is dead.

An accident.

It wasn't an accident.

All right...

He knew this would happen.

Do you have the burial permit?

Thank you. Please follow me.

Excuse us.

Given the close ties
between you and Mr Dubaye,

I imagine
your grief is genuine.

But 2 deputies in 2 days,
that's a lot, isn't it?

The Serrano file is heating up,
Mr Maréchal.

It's risky to hold onto.

You think Mr Dubaye had it?

You know what I think.

I think
Dubaye murdered Serrano.

You forget...

You were eating together
at the time of the murder.

I can also tell you that I think

that isn't the best idea
you've ever had.

If you hadn't been
with Mr Dubaye that night,

he'd be at police HQ now.
Alive.

If Philippe did kill Serrano,
does that lead you to his murderer?

Use the rear exit.

Mrs Dubaye will want
to avoid the press.

Who killed him?

I don't know.

But I can't live
on what Philippe has left me.

You have the Serrano files?

Why do you say that?

If I had them...

my future would be guaranteed.

Your future?
You won't have one.

I'd like to stay honest.
But poor?

That's tough.

Staying alive will do.

Keep me then.

I wish I could.

Forget it, believe me.

I wish I could.

Mr Maréchal?

Nicolas Tomsky.

I was a friend of Philippe's.

His passing
is a terrible loss for me.

If you need anything

in this difficult moment

you'll be going through,
please call me.

My card.

Thank you.

See you soon, Mr Maréchal.

Stay here.

A pack of tissues.

A coffee, please.

The Arrivée?

I was supposed
to meet someone there...

She must be at the bar.

Miss de Rocquencourt.

Miss de Rocquencourt?

Phone.
Downstairs. Booth number 1.

Thank you.

Philippe...

That's horrible.

Yes, but you can't break down now.

We're being watched.
I've no idea where we can meet.

I stayed with a friend in Neuilly.

Go back.
What's her number?

720 27 03.

Who do I ask for?

Valérie Agostinelli.

Once you get there, stay put.

I'll try to come over tonight.

Hold on!

Get out of there!

What is it?

Just leave the booth!

This weekend maybe...

Yes, madam?

Nicole?

Any messages?

Tell him I'll cash it on the 15th.
Anything else?

Inspector Morot.
Tell him to wait for me.

Inspector...

Mr Maréchal...

- What can I do for you?
- A great deal.

I was reflecting while I was waiting.

Thinking, you could say.

About me?

About your behaviour.

In a case like the one
that concerns us,

false testimony can cost a lot.

I don't understand.

All right...

And Kébir?

Kébir, you understand?

I won't ask where you were
last night, probably eating

duck with olives somewhere.

He was found dead

in a car, poor Kébir.

A car that wasn't his.

How do you explain that?

I can't explain it.

- You knew him?
- Of course.

Indeed.

You know a lot.

Not enough.

I'd like to know more.

So would I.

Like who killed Philippe.

So help me.

Enlighten me, for instance,

about the link between you,
Dubaye's death

and Kébir's.

The past.

That's all?

That's all.

All the same, there are...
coincidences.

Rather amusing ones.
I didn't create them.

Kébir was in a car that wasn't his

near a home where Mr. Dubaye

housed a young woman
who wasn't his wife.

That's not a coincidence,
it's a grammar exercise.

You knew nothing
about that young woman?

Nothing atoll.

Here she is.

This photo
will be in tomorrow's papers,

saying she's wanted.
Something tells me

that the hunt will be...
an active one.

One question:
Who will find her first?

Me or Kébir's killers?

I think

for her sake,
that it would be better if I do.

Can I help you?

Valérie Agostinelli.

Xavier Maréchal.
I'm Philippe's friend.

I'm Leslie, Leslie Collins.

Hello, Leslie.

What a terrible business.
It's horrible.

My friend Leslie.

We've met. Feeling better?

She was in such a state...

I ran here from the café.

I was afraid of everyone.

Even the cops.

Be afraid of everyone,
especially the cops.

They're looking for you.

The papers will be publishing
thousands of copies of this.

Luck doesn't get any worse.

- Got my documents?
- Yes.

Help yourselves to food.

Will you be back late?

If it's too late,
I'll stay with Georges.

Good night.

Why kill Philippe?

Because of this.

What is it?

A list of names

that have often been
in the headlines.

A "Who's Who" of corruption and scum.

What will you do?

Use it
but I don't know how yet.

I need to make less bulky copies.

I can't go to the local photographer.

Will you trust me one more time?

Very good, Leslie.

Start turning.

Faster.

Smile now.

Very good. You're beautiful.

Can you do a faster one
with a big smile?

Go on. Very good. Well done.

Perfect.

One last roll.
Same lens.

Excuse me, ladies.

- Everything ok?
- No, I can't focus.

Christophe...
The 135, please.

- Thank you.
- That should do it.

Let's do a new roll.
Much more slowly.

All set.

It starts nicely.

Villiers,
the parking meter prefect.

His wife, his son, his son-in-law
all got fat.

Always the some.
A name, a date...

and a sum of money.

Is that ok?

Serious stuff. Hermut Thieler.
EU bribery.

Aeronautics, nuclear power...

Serrano had to have help
from higher up to hold Hermut.

Much higher.

Interesting?

Philippe...

What was his interest?

Politics.

If the police find me,
what do I say?

They mustn't find you.
Don't leave your friend's house.

If you need anything, call me.

At home...

At the office...

And in the car.

Good night. And thank you.

Taxi!

Help!

I've finished.

Help me!

Valérie, what's wrong?

Some soldiers arrived.

I said I was being chased.

I told them rubbish.

The windowpane was smashed.

Maybe it was just burglars.

I'm getting hysterical.

I feel better now.

Do up your belt all the some.

You're all monsters.

Sorry, Xavier.

Calm down.

We'll get you to safety.

There you go.

In 5 minutes, you'll be asleep.

You'll see.

Some pyjamas?

No, thank you.

Good night.

Have a good rest.

I'm already asleep.

She's sweet and very classy.

You've got it wrong, Paul.

She was Philippe's girlfriend.

Was?

That's the way it goes.

He always liked pretty girls.

Christiane was pretty
before she hit the bottle.

He always spoiled everything.

He was a funny guy
but frivolous.

Let's change the subject.

Let's talk about you.

How long has it been?

3 years come Corpus Christi.

You've aged a century!

In my case,
that's not because of whisky.

No, I wreck my health with my art.

My work devours me.

Entertaining kids,
what a nightmare!

They always want something new.

Something better.

You thought your cut Felix
would last until 2000?

What else did Michelangelo do?

He always daubed the some faces.

God, Moses,
always the some beards.

Know what?
Maybe I'll start painting again.

Like Michelangelo?

Don't laugh.

I'm serious.
I want to paint for myself.

Like Cézanne. For real.

I tell myself that
more and more often.

I'm even starting to believe it.

I should have gone into politics.

Carry on,
you're already part way there.

What did Philippe dabble in?

You know, in his position...

He did favours
and people did him favours too.

So there you go.

I see...

His kindness killed him.

Maybe.

Take care.
You're not too mad at me?

- What for?
- What I said about Philippe.

You must be right,
you knew him better than me.

I wonder, Paul.

Leave the girl here a while.
That way, I'll see you.

His lordship. Finally.
I thought you were dead.

I was calling all night.
Know what I thought?

That you were going to dump me.

Sure, that's my style.

Dinner tonight? Hold on.

Someone's at the door.

Don't hang up. If I hear shots,
I'll cook for one.

Very funny.

Who is it?

Mr Maréchal?

Yes.

Mr Fondari
would like to talk to you.

His phone's cut?

Mr Fondari is afraid
someone might listen in.

Just a second.

May we come in?

No.

A genuine 17th century Buddha.
Know its value? 400,000.

In that case, 300,000.
Empress Tseu-Mi's collection.

I'm no expert.

Neither am I.

But I have good advisers.
Do you know Schliben?

I never thought I'd be here.

Think where I started out.

There were 11 of us at home.

I started work when I was 7.

For a baker.
Can you imagine it?

At 20, I entered a bank with a gun.

At 30, I joined the Credit Lyonnais
with excellent references.

To get where I am now,

I had to do a lot of deals.

Get rid of a lot of guys.

Who, for instance?

Sorry, but I understand better
with examples.

It wasn't me who killed Serrano.

Nor one of my people.
You have my word.

And Philippe?

Why would I have killed him?
I'd have bought him.

By the way, what are you playing at
with his mistress?

She's making headlines.

The cops are getting riled.

Where have you hidden her?

She has the file, right?

You ask the some questions us Morot
but after he does.

Screw him.
I'm the one you owe the truth to.

Why?

I can hurt you a lot more
than he can.

Probably.

I have the feeling
you've been working solo lately.

If that's true, you're wrong.

You're a second fiddle.

A brilliant one
but still a second fiddle.

Define your limits
and stay within them.

That's how you'll last.

Thanks for the advice.

I'm on the verge of 50, my boy.

I'm rich.

Yet I depend on men who can hurt me.

Elect me without warning.

They want me to get the Serrano file
by every means possible.

And I'll use them.
But if I can avoid damage...

You know where the papers are
or at least who has them.

We need them.

We?

I've just learned
something interesting.

You're a minion.
A brilliant one but still a minion.

If I had those papers...

You're heading for trouble, Xav.

Not yet.

Not right away. You have to get
your orders first.

This won't take long.

Mr Maréchal
won't be free for a while.

I'll wait.

Mr Maréchal?

Counsellor Lacor.

Put him in Mr Dubaye's office.

Counsellor...

- Hello, Xav.
- How's Christiane?

Very well...

Well, not exactly...

I defend her interests
like Philippe's.

Of course.

- How are you?
- Fine.

Good.

The Dutch contract is signed.

I'll send you and Christiane a copy.

- Good.
- Was there anything else?

No.

Oh, yes!

You've had an invitation
for the French Quality gala

at the Elysées Matignon.
If you've lost it...

I'm afraid I have other obligations.

Move them.

Some very important people
want to meet you.

I have an office.

They'd like to meet you by chance.

I won't promise but I'll try.

Do the impossible.

While I'm here,
one last thing...

You may not know this
but I head a group...

A choir?
A gym club?

Hold on...

Actually, it's a sort of
Free Mason society whose members

swear to help each other
whatever happens. Understand?

Not a word.

- You're not helping.
- At least I'm listening.

This country
needs an upheaval one day.

It's been in upheaval
since the days of the Valois.

A clear vision at last.

Once the collectivists
have a finger in the pie,

they'll never let go of it.

We must plan the survival operation:

Swiss accounts,
French mail drops,

hides, weapons dumps...

We're not there yet.

We're still at the planning stage.

Collecting funds?

- Yes.
- And you're the treasurer.

Of course I'm the treasurer.
It's a real delight!

- I can be very generous...
- Thank you.

But clubs piss me off.

Think it over.
See you later?

I'll make no promises.

All right, but I promised
you'd be there.

Don't take my decisions for me.

Or it might happen one day.

What?

Something I've wanted to do
for a longtime, Lucien.

What?

Slap your face.

See you round.

Forgive me...

We were wondering
what had become of you.

Good evening.

A fancy crowd?

Politicians, some jokers,

a few duchesses,
a lot of hookers.

French Quality, I guess.
Good job there are a few friends.

I'm sorry about Philippe.

Thank you. That's sweet.

- Hello, Xav.
- Hi, Armel.

I wasn't expecting you.
I should have called you...

I should have too but you know...

Armel, I can't make it
tomorrow evening.

Work something out.

A Perrier, please.

What a joy it is to see you.

We were worried.
I'll tell them you're here.

I didn't expect full mourning but...

You're shocked I'm here?

It's tasteless.

I don't care what people think.

Go easy on it.

I'm required to display virtues
that weren't demanded of my...

late husband!

Let me tell you...

Not so loud.

Let me remind you,

under my breath,

that Philippe's death
makes me a widow

but if he had lived,
I'd be a divorcee.

In any case,
a woman alone.

And your lawyer?

Don't be dumb.

Beggars can't be choosers.

You'd marry me
if I was rich?

Control yourself.

With Serrano's files,
I'll be rich.

That's enough. Control yourself.

But...

How much are you worth, Xav?

Christiane!

The President's waiting.

President,
this is Mr Maréchal.

- President Lansac.
- See you later.

Sit down, Mr. Maréchal.

I'm very pleased to meet you.

Pleased, yet saddened too.

You've lost a close friend
in Mr Dubaye while we've lost

an irreplaceable companion.

You'll no doubt agree with me

that his memory should be preserved.

In theory, yes.
But as to the means...

I only see one.

Destroy those scandalous scribbles.

Only destroy them?

Are you sure, sir?

No, you're right.

We also need to destroy
certain libelous documents

concerning our friend Dubaye.

As well us give a scare
to a clique of losers.

At the mere idea
of a pact between you,

they're terrified.

That's a little premature.

I share President Lansac's
generous ideas

concerning Philippe's memory
and the end of a certain clique.

However...

I don't see what part I can play
in this crusade.

A very modest part, Mr. Maréchal.

I'm not asking you
for the Serrano file.

I'd simply like to know if,

among the missing papers,

there's any mention of...

If that were the case,

I'd simply ask you
for 2 or 3 pages

about that great man.

What for?

To pass them around.

Just pass them around,
where necessary.

And then...

no more of that great man.

Discredited and finished.

So, if you please,

just 2 or 3 pages, my prince.

If I had them, gladly,
my dear fellow.

This company you manage,
Sojoka,

and whose lawyer
is our friend here,

needs to expand.

For example, in Luxembourg

or Germany.

What my father called a cash cow
is Europe now.

With 4, 6 or 9 nations.
Any combination is good.

Without your advantages
and intelligence,

I'm making a fortune.

So, how far
can a man of your worth go?

"How much are you worth, Xav?"

I'm sorry?

Nothing. Forgive me...

I have to give an award...

I'll let you think it over.

But think fast.

There's something Lansac didn't say.

We want those papers

but the book
must not return to its owner.

What owner?

- Serrano.
- He's dead.

He's been replaced.
His position remains.

Look...

I'd hate for a bus to run you down.

I can play for time

by saying that we're talking, that
you haven't decided. But after...

After, I wouldn't like to be
your insurer.

For now, the President
is being indulgent with you.

I was very touched by his devotion
to the public good.

Tell him.

I'm fed up, I'm leaving.
Meet me at home?

- What for?
- Wait.

Want to know who killed Philippe?

Christiane, please...
Excuse us.

You'll come?

My dear friends,
your attention, please.

We're lucky enough to have
President Lansac here tonight.

Getting orders too?

- What did he tell you?
- Who?

The President...

of my ass!

We talked about young people,
pensioners...

You're becoming annoying.

Shit, you've always worked with us.

With Philippe.

- He was under my orders.
- I wasn't.

You'll have to get used to it.

Not necessarily.

Why do you have to complicate things?

You know I always did my best
to protect Philippe.

So it would piss me off...

The stakes are getting higher.

Serrano, Philippe, that Arab.
Three men down.

You've been warned.

It's so hot in here.

My head hurts...

Oh, Lord...

Dear God...

You gave me such a fright.

You don't just enter
someone's home like that.

You could have called.

How did you get in?

Answer me.

You're usually more talkative.

What is it you want?

If you're trying to scare me,
you have.

No need to get upset.
We can find...

Let's sit down
and you can tell me what you want.

I'm sure we can work something out.

I'm expecting someone
who'll be surprised to see you here.

Stop this right now!
It's not funny anymore!

What is it you want, dammit!

Don't come any closer
or I'll scream!

From up there.

8th floor.
That's a long drop.

Probably suicide.

3 Pages.

From the Serrano file.
Take it or leave it.

An exclusive?

What else?

Your competitors will put this muck
on the front page.

If you want an exclusive...

I knew it.

You'll get the envelope
within 2 hours.

In what name?

Dubreuil... ok. Thanks.

You know what you're doing?

I know what they can do.

It's ready if you want to come up.

Take your pick.

With a can like this,
you have no end of worms.

Some big, some small.

Dupaire.

I like that idea.
Dupaire the moralist.

He campaigns against long hair,
porn and abortion.

But not against arms dealing.

That's one.
How many do you want?

We'll print 10
and pick 3 of the sickest ones.

You know you'll ruin them?

Perhaps some of them simply...

Made mistakes?

More than that. Grave errors.

Aren't you afraid
of making them pay too much?

They didn't give Philippe credit.

Was he worth more than them?
Objectively?

Objectively is a crap concept
I don't give a shit about.

Dupaire.

One.

Two.

Three.

Three per envelope.

Why not four?

Philippe, Christiane, Kébir.

Serrano's not dead too?

He is.

But I take care of my dead.

A new development
in the Serrano case.

Last night, Paris newspapers
had an anonymous call

offering them 3 pages
from the now notorious file.

Everyone is wondering
who the informant is.

The 3 pages
accuse a number of politicians.

These last few days,
Mrs Dubaye...

didn't seem like a bereaved widow.

An accident or an overdose,
that I could accept.

But...

jumping from the 8th floor...

A staged suicide... That I buy.

That kind of staging is usually
a trademark of your firm.

If you don't mind, let's leave
the realm of police thrillers.

Mrs Dubaye left
the French Quality gala at midnight.

And you left
almost immediately.

A coincidence.

So you say.

Counsellor Lacor
saw Mrs Dubaye

to the door of her building.

That's what he says.
Giving me two possible culprits.

I think I can find others.

You seem to prefer me.

That's true.

I pick the easy option.

Élysées Matignon, 12:45 AM,
Maxence Lucien, maître d'hôtel...

"I declare that I heard Mrs Dubaye
say to Mr Maréchal;

"When I get the Serrano files,
I'll be rich."

50 witnesses saw you leave
just after she did.

And you were at her building
a few minutes

after the crime.

That should be enough
for the magistrate.

Forgive me.

I heard Mr Maréchal was here.

He maybe moving in for good.

Have you bugged
the magistrate's office?

Judge Favet has just ordered us
to hold Mr Maréchal in custody.

Without wishing
to anticipate his conclusions,

the Dubaye case is mine.

There are two Dubaye cases.

What kind of sleight of hand
allows you to separate them?

The magistrate, who abhors magic,

followed
purely Cartesian reasoning.

Mr Dubaye kills Serrano
and seizes the file,

Mr Maréchal kills Dubaye

and provides samples of the file
to the press.

The magistrate
considers it a possibility

that other personalities
may be accused.

One of whom
it's best not to consider.

There's a murder charge
all the same.

And that's my remit for now.

Aren't you afraid that,
for the powers that be,

murder may be a technicality?

I was going to say a "trifle".

Listen to this.

Spreading of false information.
Libel.

Disclosure of documents pertaining

to national defence.

In other words, an attack
on domestic and foreign security.

My remit.

A new round
in the departmental wars?

You'll be held in my office.

I'm delighted by your dynamism.
Such energy!

Why remove me from his clutches?

Meanwhile, Dubaye's killer
is still on the run.

You know it wasn't me.

Especially as I'm the author
of tomorrow's official version.

Dubaye was murdered
by his mistress

who is now on the run.

Wouldn't it be rather inconvenient
if she were to reappear?

At least for now.

And Christiane Dubaye?

A desperate act.
The newspapers' version suits me.

Mr Prosecutor, hello.

Yes, Mr Maréchal

is right here.

I'll put him on.

Mr Maréchal? Hello.

There's someone here
who'd like to talk to you.

I'll talk to the inspector again after.

Mr Maréchal.

This is Tomsky.

I think the situation

requires that we meet.

I leave France in two days.
I'd like you to come to my home.

I'm having a hunt tomorrow
with friends. Does 8 AM suit you?

Lu Motte-Beuvron.

30 km after Orléans.

I know it.

All that sounds fine to me
but there's one problem...

I'm in custody.

All right.

I see.

I'll put him on.

Of course, Mr Prosecutor.

Yes. A wish, of course.
A simple wish, yes.

I'd prefer
to have that in writing,

Mr Prosecutor.

The magistrate has been informed.
Very good.

In that case...

My respects, Mr Prosecutor.

All I can do is wish you a good hunt.

Who is Tomsky?

As you can see,
a gentleman with contacts.

I snatch you from the wolf's mouth,
then a pack of them returns.

The game will get very tight,
Mr Maréchal, and even...

quite deadly, I think.

You're free.

Some powerful people will contact you
or already have.

My friends will do everything
to stop you from meeting them.

If we weren't so close...

Counsellor? We're ready.

Keep on trucking, Mr Maréchal?

Hey, Lucien!

Come and see.
I think you got him good.

He's a goner.

Jesus Christ!

Use the prop!

Holland & Holland?

If you like light weapons.

Then take this one.

I don't like weapons at all.

Yet you recognized the brand.

I know a lot of things
I don't like. People too.

Let's talk
about those things and those people

but after the hunt.

We're hunting?

Of course.

Excuse me a second.

Excuse me.

Forget what I told you.
In fact, I never said a thing.

I didn't expect to see you here.

Counsellor,
with Mr de la Fresnais.

Mr Maréchal with me.

Philippe never mentioned me?

He often talked about you.

He liked you a lot.

What about you?

Do you like me?

I really need to be liked.

There's been an accident.

A death already?

We could have had one earlier.

I heard about your journey.

News travels fast.

Don't worry, you'll be fine.

Call an ambulance right away.

All right, doctor.

Is it serious?

A round in the lower back.

If the kidneys have been hit...

The doc says
the shot didn't go too deep.

You'll make it, old man.

Yes, of course.

Shall I drive you back?

With our sport curtailed,

we can now,
my dear Maréchal,

enter a more constructive phase.

Even though my name
isn't at the top of each page,

the files in your possession
belong to me.

Or, if you will, I'm responsible
in relation to certain people.

Mr Maréchal,
the current political climate is bad.

And your recent publications
simply harm your country.

You don't give a damn.

That's true.
Nor about other countries.

While waiting for
the plebs' international,

we've set up
the international of cash.

It's a little more serious,
believe me.

Words like "foes"
or "allies" no longer mean a thing.

We have no more friends,

just partners.

We have no more enemies,
just customers.

Capital no longer has borders.

Corruption neither?

That's why publishing
the Serrano file

won't change a thing.

I'll be ousted,

a few political clowns will fall,
you'll go to jail...

But, deep down, nothing will change.

You neglect public opinion
a little too much.

- Did it change the Lockheed scandal?
- And Watergate?

That concerned morals.

So there are morals.

Fear not, it will remain
the scandal of the century.

Mr Maréchal, you're honest
the way our grandfathers were.

Unfortunately,
that means nothing now.

Didn't your last great leader
tell you

that you were cattle?

So why are the cattle bothered...

if a minister or a politician

gets rich a little too quickly?

Do you think the economy

is affected by it?

Come, come.

The key thing
is to build and produce,

to give the cattle what they want;

food, drink, sex,
weekends in the country

with trips up the Alps in winter.

Come in.

The gentlemen are here.

Show them in.

- Hello.
- Minister...

Meet Mr Maréchal,

to whom you owe
your recent unwelcome publicity.

These rags print nothing but libel!

So why don't you sue them?

The journalist scum should be...

Bought off.

Or invited to the hunt.

Hand over the book.
How much?

I think his renunciation
must be worth 2 million.

- We can talk it over.
- No.

Any other demands?

The name of Philippe's killer.

If I knew it,
I don't think I'd tell you.

But I don't know it.

It's his obsession.

Aren't you afraid
that such a demand...

Meet it or I'm not interested.

You pain in the ass!

No one gives a damn about Philippe!

My mission ends
where Mr Fondari's begins.

I'd have liked to persuade you.

- I'm staying.
- No.

I want to see him crawl!

I'm starting to believe the press.

You're a worm, Minister.

A piece of shit.

You've chosen a hard path.

I'm truly sorry.

You'll call from Amsterdam?

I nearly forgot you, Mr Fondari.
of course I'll call.

I warned you.

You kept playing the fool...

What the hell got into you?

You could have raked in the money,

had it easy
for the rest of your life.

Instead of keeping me informed,
you played the clown.

I wanted Philippe's killer.

You didn't help.

The police think you did it.

So do I.

Luckily, what you think
doesn't matter anymore.

Marcel.

Give him a shot.

Sodium pentobarbital.

The Nazis used it as a stimulant.

It's better than fish
for the memory.

Please roll up your sleeve.

Come on, pal, tidy yourself up.

Come on, we have visitors.

Why do you bother? With your looks,
I'd have been a pimp.

You're under arrest.

Durieu.

The charges are concealment,

false testimony,

and collusion in
Mr Serrano's murder.

Take him away.

I'll see you at our offices
tomorrow.

Still at Police HQ?

Yes, and my number is still
Louvre 26-33.

The prosecutor won't call this time.

He probably caught a chill.

That often happens
on higher planes.

There's been a sudden drop
in temperature.

Tomorrow, bring woollens
and a blanket.

You never know.

Take the other car.
See you back at HQ.

With your alibis and cries for help,
what'd you do without women?

She saved your hide.

Thank you, Valérie.

I had to tell him everything.

Did it take that long to tell?

It took that long to type.

Are you charging me?

Who's behind all this?

No one.

Interests, lobbies,

companies that overlap
and change all the time.

But no faces or identities.

Plenty of intermediaries.
Tomsky.

Puppets like Lansac,
henchmen like Fondari.

Clowns like Dupaire.
Smart guys...

Like Dubaye?

Like Serrano.

I don't care about Dubaye
or Serrano.

The file's what interests me.

Not to bury it away.

To expose it,
but not the way you did.

In a personal report
to the Justice Minister.

Personal?

Yes, Mr Maréchal.

I'll win by doing my job cleanly

with clean people.

And if I fail,
in other words if you're right,

I'll take early retirement

and go salmon fishing.
I've dreamt of that for so long.

Give him what he asks.
Those people will kill you.

You see.

She's fallen for it too.

Those people?
What does that mean?

I want the killer's name.

Give it to me or go to hell.

I'm ungrateful.
It's my way of being loyal.

Lookout!

Who killed Philippe?

Who killed him?

Stop! I'm dying...

Die.
And it won't be fast, you bastard.

You can't do this!
Shit!

You can't leave me with this knee.

Fuck it...

The lousy shit.
You can take him down.

I'll tell you.

It was...

That's impossible!

An inspector doesn't vanish
and leave 4 corpses.

Kidnappers would ask for a ransom.

All right.
Call me back in half an hour.

Line 3.

Who is this?

Really?

That's interesting.

I'm on my way.
Where do I meet you?

Alone.

Where to?

The station at La Défense.

What decided you?

Fear.

It can be a good adviser.

I should thank you
but is this really a gift?

Who mentioned a gift?

The key for a name.

What name?

Philippe's killer.

If only I knew it...

Come on, inspector...

I've seen men forget
their wives and children.

Forget their phone numbers
but never their names.

Adrien Morot.
Inspector with the Crime Unit.

Cop by day, crook by night.

That's totally absurd!

You're right. It is absurd.

I understood
when I was attacked with Pernais.

Fondari had to have protection
to open fire on an inspector.

Who can guarantee a crook's impunity?
A cop.

There weren't many cops on this case.

Pernais... And you.

The attack cleared Pernais.

A pretty big mistake.

Fondari's ideas are always stupid.

Pernais and Fondari,
the two extremes of stupidity.

The sheep and the ape-man.

Fondari flouts the law
and Pernais worships him.

Maybe he's the worse of the two.
His stupidity has a sound foundation.

Fondari's idiocy is marginal.

Like your concept of order.

You're wrong.

The position I occupy
developed that concept.

I couldn't be better placed.
I know the scum of Paris.

- I shake their hands.
- And strangle them.

Bastards piss me off, Maréchal.

They corrupt this country.

Today's wheeler-dealers
occupy the temple,

run the newspapers,
subsidize election campaigns,

back those who'll give them the deals

and grant them privileges.

They form a new elite.

Their descendants
will be tomorrow's aristocracy.

We're heading for the age
of crooks with a divine right.

But thanks to these papers,
I'll nip this vermin in the bud.

We fight the same fight.
When I kill Dubaye...

or when you expose
the Dupaire scandal,

we're washing the some dirty laundry.

And Christiane Dubaye?

Drink made her chatty.

She'd have told you everything.

You have nothing to fear.
You and I are alike.

Our goal is the some:
Cure this country of its leprosy.

Do you realize

what a historic moment this is?

We're becoming important figures.

Robespierre and Saint-Just
must have felt this intoxication.

The shrinks at the trial...

What trial?

Yours.

The shrinks will say
you're fanatical and paranoid.

But not one of them will say
what you really are.

The word is out of place in court.

The truth is, you're a jerk.

Don't worry,
there have been plenty before you.

Your predecessors were
Savonarola, Fouquier-Tinville...

The 2 plagues threatening mankind
are disorder and order.

Corruption disgusts me.

And virtue makes me shudder.

Listen to yourself.

Bastards piss me off, Maréchal.

They corrupt this country.

Today's wheeler-dealers
occupy the temple,

run the newspapers...

All that for Philippe Dubaye.

You've saved a gang of bastards

to clear a swine.

Surrender, Morot.
You're surrounded.

Their descendants will be

tomorrow's aristocracy.

We're heading for the age...

Thank you.

Thank you and... bravo.

I didn't come for this.

Inspector Morot

was a virulent humanist.

But a remarkable officer.

"Competent", said Fondari,
another humanist.

What will you do with it?

Give a copy
to the magistrate,

the originals
to the Justice Minister.

I imagine Mr Dubaye's name
isn't in it?

Why would it be?
Whatever for?

Goodbye, inspector.

What's going to happen now?

Not a lot.

If Pernais is an honest man,
he'll resign.

He'll go salmon fishing.

If he's dishonest,

he can become Chief of Police.

A number of politicians
are in for hard times.

It won't last long.

They'll return
with a new republican mask,

the way an old hooker
gets a butt lift.

The only ones who'll suffer
are the salmon.

Sleep in peace, Parisians.

Everything is quiet.

Subtitles: Ian Burley

Subtitling; C.M.C.

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