Original subtitles

Wait.

Wait.

What's wrong?

In the 18th century, people suffered more elegantly.

A discreet cough,

a mild tuberculosis...

But frankly, this century is humiliating.

Well, no. All right.

Okay. In the 19th century...

it's psychosomatic.

Monica's leaving me and my hemorrhoids are acting up.

Hello?

Yes, what is it, Colonel?

What?

But Colonel, it's Sunday...

With my tape recorder?

What for?

Sure, I know what that is.

Yes, Colonel, I know what "impalement" means.

It's awful. Did someone get impaled?

No, they say Dracula invented it in the 14th century.

Yes, Colonel.

I'm on my way.

Now listen here.

If you follow the rules and behave yourself,

unlikely in your case, but...

the impalement is all yours.

Mine? What do you mean, mine?

Yours. It's all yours.

I'm giving you an exclusive.

Here, eat this.

If you're not interested, I'll find someone else.

Starving journalists are easy to find.

Of course I'm interested, but...

You ever heard of "The Last Supper"?

Yeah, Da Vinci's famous fresco.

I don't mean the painting. I mean the organization.

It's a non-conformist Christian evangelical group

that promotes weight-loss through Bible reading.

Some gringos in Memphis invented it.

They read, fast, eat vegetables,

cook together...

Why do you ask? Anything illegal?

It's my wife.

Somehow she got this crazy idea it's the answer

to my weight problem.

It's quite popular.

The problem is, when you first join you have to give a speech

explaining what brought you there.

It's not so hard, Colonel. Just be sincere.

Sincerity can't be improvised, my dear journalist.

I mustn't make a fool of myself.

It's not just about me.

I have a reputation as an officer.

So what will you do?

Very simple, Silampa. You'll write my speech for me.

No... no, Colonel.

I'm a journalist. I wouldn't know how.

You're educated. An intellectual.

It's a different style of writing.

Need I remind you of all the favors you owe me?

All right.

Go ahead.

My name is Moya Aristofanes.

I'm six feet tall and I weigh 127 kilos.

I became aware of my problem the day I ate,

apart from the three daily meals recommended by the Church...

I went on a rampage... eating 17 chocolates,

14 bags of gummy bears,

and 11 caramel cookies.

And that was just the sweets.

I also set a record with the salty foods.

12 empanadas with hot sauce,

4 cheese arepas

and 3 bacon cheeseburgers with fries.

In the country of the Sacred Heart,

there's no absolution for anyone

when cash is king

and decency won't cut it. Honor is dead...

We hack our way through a jungle of semantics.

Survival of the most violent...

Scruples are an invention

of a faraway past covered with dust.

They've bribed us all,

nobody beats the rap.

We all carry guns,

we like our cash under the counter...

Victor Silampa, the Observer.

It's up there.

Nobody's innocent anymore.

Everyone's a delinquent.

They come in all shapes and colors,

the worst ones wear white collars.

Where politics means theft,

millionaires, money and golden papaya...

Social animals, like lions,

and wealth Is the prey. We're all predators.

They've bribed us all,

nobody beats the rap.

We all carry guns,

we like our cash under the counter.

They've bribed us all,

nobody beats the rap.

We all carry guns...

My wife suggested I buy

"Selections from Reader's Digest. " There was this article

titled "I am Juan's stomach. "

That's when I became aware of my problem.

I was treating my stomach like a trash bag.

Hl, this Is Monica. Leave a message and I'll call you back.

No more messages. Let her call me.

Otherwise fuck it. It's out of my hands.

Should I put this in the novel?

How long has he been dead?

Between two and eight weeks.

That's not very precise.

Ask him yourself, you might get lucky.

While you're at it, ask him his name. They burned off his fingerprints.

Is that him?

No. My brother-in-law was younger and thinner.

And he was black.

Follow me.

Name the person missing and your family relation.

Osler Estupi�an Juarez.

Older brother.

- Have you got their names? - Names?

Too many corpses. We haven't got time.

If people get here quick to identify them, fine.

Otherwise we bury them together.

Something about him looks familiar.

Where are his clothes? Was he found naked?

Do you know him or not?

Maybe.

Then go with... the nurse. He has some routine questions.

Your brother was single,

50 years old, no mental disorders...

He drove an '84 taxi...

Upgraded to a '94.

The whole thing is bizarre.

I ran into him last year by chance.

I'd taken a job in Cartagena...

that ancient colonial gateway to the enlightened ideals of freedom...

I've been looking for him ever since.

You think it's your brother?

It could be.

What might have happened to him?

No idea.

He didn't drink, he didn't like the Rumba

and with the ladies, he barely qualified

as a member of the male gender.

Could it be a kidnapping?

Who would kidnap a taxi driver?

Thanks.

Do all nurses ask questions like that?

I find it rather odd that you...

- Secret police? - Well...

Let's just say I'm collaborating.

Oh, right.

- Call me if you hear anything. - I'm happy to help.

- And make sure. - Of what?

That it's your brother!

Oh, right.

First question: is your Monica gone for good?

She's after success and money and you don't fit the profile.

Second question:

why all the interest in the impaled guy?

Has Colombia progressed so much that a single death makes the news?

Well, it's a weird case.

A book?

No. I don't know. I haven't thought about it.

I think you have.

You think you can win her back with a bestseller.

Mr. Guzman.

What's this?

A reward for good behavior.

The psychiatrist said no newspapers.

He was very specific. Nothing connected to media.

It's not connected. Because it's not news.

It's history.

Bullshit. They're newspapers.

Not anymore.

Every day they give me an old paper.

Beginning the day and year I was committed.

A daily dose of history.

I'm at the storming of the Palace of Justice.

Now that was a fucking mess.

You won't believe what happens next.

Don't tell me! You'll ruin the intrigue.

Back to the impalement.

All I can say is this is no random crime.

This kind of stuff

is driven by hate. Or to scare someone.

I haven't even identified the body.

It'll start talking at some point. All corpses do.

I'm from Nelva. My folks had a fried-food stand.

The most Colombian of all Colombian food.

Well, no offense to the fatherland,

but it's poison to the arteries.

I grew up eating out of a deep-fryer.

IMPALEMENT IN TEUSA

Never heat croissants in the microwave!

It turns them into rubber.

Where's the new girl? What's her name?

Nancy, sir?

I have no idea.

I saw her around earlier, but she could be anywhere.

Looking for me, sir?

- Morning, Nancy. - Morning, sir.

Find the Antunez file and take it to my office.

Yes, sir.

Get me Mr. Esquilache, at City Council.

Excuse me, where's the file?

It won't be denied. We can't let bureaucracy hinder

those who with Roman-like visions of grandeur

build such magnificent housing developments

for our beloved Bogot�.

Would we deny, I ask,

Rome its Appian Way? The grandiose

convergence of all roads leading to Rome,

today still a pillar of human history?

Barragan on this one, and Vargas and Culebro on this one.

Right.

How's Catalina?

And the kids? The little one?

Then everything's rosy. Family comes first.

Fucking prick.

Go away.

So what about that impalement?

Don't say crap like that over the phone.

Tell Catalina and the kids to come on Saturday.

We'll have lunch, go horseback riding...

We'll have potato soup for lunch.

I'm serious, too.

You should try to honor those little meatballs

under your penis and act like a man.

This thing is only getting started.

Hello?

It's me, Councilman.

Vargas Vicu�a.

How's my thing going?

What?

No, Esquilache, that wasn't the plan.

Of course I understand. You're talking about "the law. "

Fine, whatever.

If we have to cut back, fine.

But we cut back the whole thing. Your share as well.

If we can only build three stories high,

then three stories it is.

It's all proportional.

Any news about that land by the lake?

I'm on it, I have a lawyer handling the claim

on the estate.

My niece's husband. He's nice and obedient.

You met him.

I know. That's the point.

Excuse me, the Lolita Bar?

Here I am, Estupi�an.

- Wadda you got? - Boss.

Check it out. That fat guy over there

says someone paid him to take a strange

package from Tunja to Choconta.

- A corpse? - I don't know about that.

But you said Choconta was near the lake

where they found the guy you showed me.

So I thought, what if it was him?

Right.

I think the guy has something to say.

You should hear him out.

Let's go.

One, two, three.

Hold on.

On my right, Sigurny.

On my left, Maiteir.

What a gift!

Look, for what they paid me

I'd transport manure.

What was it exactly?

I don't know.

Over here, baby. It was a stroke of luck.

On Thursday this classy lady showed up in a little red car.

She asked me to take a package

from Tunja to Choconta. Before I could even give a price

she stuck a big wad of cash in my hand.

And you know what she said?

That in Tunja I'd get paid the other half.

And you didn't ask what it was?

I'm not the curious type.

Curiosity isn't good for business, you know?

That's true. I'll drink to that.

That's right.

So I took it to some warehouse near the edge of town.

The granary.

Granary, that's right.

The granary. And that was it.

I got paid the other half and I came back here

to find my little queen

and do a bit of socializing. That's what money's for.

Yes, sir!

I hear you. Here's to the ebony queen!

As the dominant classes like to say: friendship before health.

It was nice meeting you.

Boss!

He must be getting tired.

Who wouldn't be at 5 in the morning?

Leaving already?

What's your name?

Quica.

But I'm sorta busy tonight.

Another time?

Come tomorrow at 7, nice and early.

That was fun, boss.

He sang like a canary.

If you'd been patient, we'd have got the whole story out of him.

Hey, I'm patient. I just couldn't take the pain.

Have you ever had hemorrhoids?

No, not me... Sorry, boss. I didn't know.

Forget it. I'm leaving. And don't call me "boss. "

Why are you so worried about this?

Because of my brother.

I'll do anything I can to find him.

But you weren't sure he was the impaled guy.

And what if he is?

I don't want any regrets on my future conscience.

UNION GRANARY

Shit!

It smells like a rodent fart in here.

"Urban Council No. 2, Bogot�.

Building License. Builder, Vargas Vicu�a. "

HEAVEN ON EARTH TURKISH BATHS

Boss.

I've never been to a Turkish bath.

Production-related collective property rights must be a real bitch.

Hey, boss. You think socialism will ever make a comeback?

Was it ever here?

Who?

Socialism.

No, I mean the iron curtain, boss.

Don't mind me.

I don't understand politics, that's why I ask. So I can learn.

I noticed, Estupi�an.

It's complicated stuff.

Now what, boss?

Don't call me "boss. "

Just between the two of us, you're the one in charge.

I'm no good at giving orders, Estupi�an.

I'm just a journalist.

- You're not secret police? - Not at all.

If I were I'd be doing more thrilling stuff.

Like chasing drug runners.

You're an angel, Baquetica.

At your service, Mr. Victor.

It says here the original deed was taken to be signed two months ago.

- Has it been registered? - Give me a second.

Look, an official document was requested in this office

for a land donation. The relevant part reads:

"This document through which

Casiodoro Pereira Antunez transfers ownership

to Mr. Heliodoro Tiflis 400 hectares of land situated

between stipulated boundaries...

surrounding Teusa Lake. "

Isn't that where

the "Heaven on Earth" Turkish baths are?

Yeah, but they don't own the land.

It's a temporary usage agreement. It says so right here.

It's in the contract.

The expiration date is coming up, Mr. Victor.

- What's today? - The fourth.

It expires next week.

So this guy Tiflis owns it now?

More or less.

- "More or less"? - Sure, like I said.

The deed is ready and signed,

but it hasn't been registered in this office.

Because they haven't brought back the signed original.

That means it hasn't been legalized as an official document.

And as you know,

they would have to pay a higher rate.

In Paris it's better.

Have you ever been?

No, not yet, sir.

What a shame. We'll have to fix that.

Shall I answer your cell phone? I'm your secretary, right?

Too bad. Excuse me.

Hello? Good afternoon, you're speaking with

Mr. Emilio Barragan's secretary. Can I help you?

One moment, please.

It's Vargas Vicu�a, the engineer.

Tell him...

I'm talking to New York. Have him hold.

I'm so sorry, Mr. Barragan

is finishing up a call from New York

on his other cell phone. You can hold the line if you like.

Thank you, sir.

Well?

How was I?

Perfect.

We should seriously consider that trip to Paris.

Anytime, sir.

Please.

Engineer? I'm sorry, I was talking to someone in New York.

No need to apologize.

New York always takes priority.

The signal's fading, where are you exactly?

I'm driving on the freeway.

Right, sure you are.

Look, I found out you're handling the Antunez estate.

The deceased had some land over by the lake.

I've taken an interest in that land.

The case is mine, but it's still in the preliminary evaluation stage.

Once I have a clear idea I'd be happy to discuss it.

I need to refresh my memory. Call me next week and we'll talk.

Having memory problems?

Pardon?

If you as the appointed lawyer

see there's a chance I could negotiate directly,

consider me your first option.

And even if the land becomes state property, call me anyway.

All right? Memory is like a plant.

It needs water, lots of water...

"Soon after I turned eleven, I heard my father say:

'AII Aristofanes does is eat. I'm ashamed of him. '

So I stopped eating, and when I got so thin I could hardly stand up,

they hospitalized me.

From then on my father never left my side.

One morning I was woken up by someone moaning.

It was my father weeping by my hospital bed.

I weighed a mere 28 kilos.

Friends, we all know how it feels to see your father weep... Pause. "

"Pause"?

Oh, I get it.

"The next day my tormented body came unblocked

and I was able to eat again. But my father's tears

taught me to fear the power of words. "

Pretty.

Very touching.

Congratulations.

What about the rest?

Give me a few days.

I'm busy with the impalement case.

What have you got?

Not much, for now.

I need more information, Colonel.

Otherwise I'll get fired from the paper.

The "Heaven on earth" Turkish baths. Start there,

Silampa.

When will the body be identified?

We're working on it.

Just make sure you finish my speech.

And keep me informed.

Cheer up, Mr. Journalist. You've been too serious lately.

Quica?

Quica.

You're late, honey.

How much to go upstairs?

But you treat me nice.

Yeah.

Boss.

He scored.

That journalist is becoming a client.

He's a journalist?

That's what I heard.

Make sure he pays in cash.

I'm ready.

Did you have anything special in mind or just the daily menu?

Hey, this isn't a hotel.

If you want

I can get on top.

Okay?

Look, mister.

I may be a hooker, but I'm still human.

Answer me.

Yes.

Get on top.

Get on top, please.

You know what? That's what you get for drinking too much.

How's your hangover?

Honey, you were shitfaced.

What happened?

You fell asleep and the guys from the bar left you outside.

I brought you home because I'm stupid.

And I felt sorry for you.

But hey,

now you owe me a lot of money.

What time is it?

Twenty after six.

Go upstairs if you want.

Take a shower.

- You want some coffee? - Yes.

Here, see if that helps.

Thanks.

Hey.

Where's my car?

Your friend took it.

Which friend?

A guy who helped me put you in the taxi.

He said he'd come for you later.

Thanks, Quica.

How much do I owe you?

A hundred thousand.

For overtime and the taxi.

I had to pay him double for helping you upstairs.

All right.

I'll invite you out for dinner sometime.

Look, I'd be happy to accept.

But if you just wanna get drunk,

you can count me out.

I don't like drunks.

I'm all ears, Estupi�an. Tell me what you're doing here.

Okay, boss. But first tell me how things went with the lady.

She's a real cupcake.

How was the filling?

Do you remember anything about last night?

Last night?

You gave me your car keys so you could stay and drink more.

They brought you outside

and right when Abuchija was about to tell me something

the girl came out and you left with her.

She even gave me the address to come get you. Don't you remember?

- No, I don't. - Shit, boss.

You were really out of it.

- Did Abuchija say anything new? - Just about the granary.

Nothing else?

You wanted more?

That Quica's a real muffin, boss.

She's just a kid.

You should have seen her when she started at the bar.

All the customers fought over her.

You included?

I prefer my used merchandise

a little older, boss. Otherwise...

Don't call me "boss. "

So what do we do now?

We drop you off on my way home.

But let's get some gas first.

Here we go.

Boss...

Are the guerrillas neo-liberals?

I once heard we Latin Americans lack political education. So...

No harm in asking.

I don't know, Estupi�an. I'm Latin American, too.

At age 11 I moved in with my grandma Simona, who sold candy.

When that first spoonful of butterscotch

and that first strand of taffy hit my stomach,

I was a goner.

I'd fallen into the clutches of sugar.

Joaquin!

It just isn't the same, Marco Tulio.

The morning "Le Monde," a warm croissant at a caf�...

Then a stroll along the Rue Saint Honor�...

Oh, no, no.

Let's get some lunch in your dad, maybe he'll shut up.

Don't make fun of their dad, they're still too young.

There'll be plenty of time for that later.

Here we go again.

Pereira Antunez died 8 weeks ago and I sent you to the funeral.

Did you forget or just not go?

Let's get to the point.

What happened with that land by the lake? I mean,

that's exactly why I sent you

to handle his estate, so we wouldn't get reamed.

It's moving forward.

So far nobody's claimed the inheritance.

I reviewed the documents you sent me

listing Pereira Antunez's assets,

but there was no sign of the 400 hectares.

What?

You heard me. Not a trace.

What the fuck?

You can't lose 400 hectares of land in a desk drawer.

They're not lost.

Antunez just happened to be a nudist.

He gave a part to "Heaven on Earth. "

He ceded certain property rights, but not the property itself.

That's right, among the papers there was

a usage agreement.

But the original deed is missing.

I have to find out who has it.

Vargas Vicu�a is interested as well.

Who told you that?

Well,

I have sources, too.

Look, Emilio. The president of Colombia Construction

told me the housing project is ready to go.

That's all I care about right now.

Don't tell me you already have a commitment with them.

A commitment? What country do you live in, man?

What country? Come back to Earth, Emilio.

Who do you think financed my campaign for City Council?

If we aren't able to expropriate that land,

what'll happen to my Senate campaign? Because I will be a senator again.

So don't get my dick in a twist here.

Hold on... What about Vargas Vicu�a?

I thought you two were in this together.

I owe Vargas Vicu�a nothing.

I owe everything to Colombia Construction.

Sometimes your ineptitude really surprises me. It's exasperating!

I can't fucking believe it!

- Calm down. - Calm down?

We're talking about a shitload of money, Emilio.

Millions of dollars.

If we're unable to exploit this

because you're not up to the task,

I'll castrate you. And another thing.

Because we're family.

One word of this gets out...

A single word and I'll bury you.

I'll wipe the floor with you. I don't care who your mother is.

Don't threaten me.

I'll threaten you whenever I fucking please.

Get me that deed.

Mr. Elius, how are you? Where have you been?

My dear Councilman, how lovely to see you again.

- Likewise. - How are things?

Have you met Mr. Barragan?

Heliodoro Tiflis, at your service.

Pleasure. We met at Mr. Pereira's funeral.

Tequila with lemon over here

and two doubles for that table.

Here, have a seat.

Tequila goes down nice and smooth in this weather. Care to join me?

Sure, sure.

Make it five over here!

A bit of liquid sunshine.

To what do I owe this rare honor?

It's a consultation.

Mr. Barragan and I are looking for the deed

to some land of Pereira Antunez's. I thought you might know

since you and he were close.

I thought maybe...

A toast to the memory of that great man.

Mr. Barragan is handling the estate

and as a councilman I have to intervene

because so far there's no heir.

The local authorities must be involved.

Excuse me, sir.

Another round?

- If we must. - Sure, boss.

Three doubles over here.

Excuse me, sir. Carry on. Where is this land?

It's in Teusa.

400 hectares by a lake.

What can I say?

Let me do a little checking of my own.

The thing is, if the deed doesn't turn up

the city will have to expropriate the land,

which will complicate things and make everything more expensive.

I'd like to save the taxpayer's money and simplify things

for the people involved. You see?

I understand perfectly, sir.

Don't worry, I'll get back to you.

Goodbye.

I think he's our man. He can get us out of this jam.

Quica!

Quica!

- What's up? - Hi.

Come on, get in.

Yeah? Where to, may I ask?

We'll go for a ride. I owe you, remember?

Who's gonna pay me for today?

Me, of course. I don't see anyone else around.

Well...

I'll call the bar to say I'm not going

- and get changed. - No, you look fine. Hurry up.

Like this?

Yeah, get in.

Quica, I need to ask a favor.

I need you to keep quiet. Try not to speak to anyone.

Swear nothing kinky will happen to me.

I swear.

Sir, I need a signature.

This is a respectable business. We only take couples.

We're looking for people who share our nudist philosophy.

- Of course. - Sounds great.

The invitation

as a free one-day pass has two purposes:

the first, to familiarize you

with our facilities. The second,

so we can get to know you.

As you can see, we're very selective about who we admit.

And with good reason.

Fantastic, isn't it?

Of course, yes.

Wait for me.

- Where are you going? - Wait for me here.

In there.

Quica.

Victor, meet Alberto.

Hello.

I was just saying how pleased I am that young people have taken to nudism.

Ah, yes.

It's fascinating.

I started at age 19.

Of course back then we were branded as degenerates.

As if nudism were just about your willy.

- Alberto. - Come here.

We have a meeting, remember?

- They're waiting. - Look, a new couple.

Susan Caviedes, our manager.

Welcome.

And then he said,

- "Touch me. " - No...

"You could blow on it and still nothing would happen. "

- Sure. - Yeah, right?

What could happen?

Quica...

Have you ever suffered?

Yes.

When my brother got killed.

He was the greatest.

He was taken by a couple guys in uniform

and later turned up dead.

Shot three times.

We never found out if they were soldiers or guerrillas.

My brother never bothered anyone,

he showed everyone respect.

That Susan must be bad news.

It shows.

Where to now?

To my place, to rest.

Rest?

You want to fuck me in the ass.

You pervert.

How old are you?

It depends.

If you're a cop, I'm 23.

If you're a customer,

I'm 16. Which do you prefer?

The truth.

The truth...

The truth is I don't even know.

"Hey, fatso...

How about a nice tasty beer?

They were talking to me, but the words seemed so distant,

as if spoken to someone else.

But it was a lost cause.

The whores called me "fatso. " No matter how hard I tried to hide it...

- Who's that? - A fat friend.

More bad news.

What's that?

A gift.

Who would give you such a thing?

My mentor.

So I have someone to talk to.

Talking always helps.

How awful.

Your mentor must be nuts.

Actually, the poor guy is a bit nuts.

He got put in an insane asylum right after that.

- Who's this? - No one.

Is she dead?

She is to me.

She left me.

You see?

I knew you were depressed.

Did you love her?

I don't even know anymore.

Since she left, it feels like it.

But I'm getting over it.

That's why you drink so much, right?

You're down in the dumps.

My mom always told me

never to fall in love.

Well, what now?

Bedtime? Or do you prefer the mannequin?

Victor Silampa?

I know who you are.

And why you went to the Turkish baths.

Who covered the Antunez funeral?

I did.

Recognize any of them?

I need to run an errand. Loan me your car and I'll help you.

Okay.

Colonel Osorio Benavides,

this looks like the engineer Vargas Vicu�a,

the lawyer Emilio Barragan...

Hey, it's Heliodoro Tiflis.

Wow.

- Heliodoro Tiflis? - Yeah, you know him?

The name sounds familiar.

Probably because he's someone to watch out for.

- Really? - And how, my friend.

He's a thug. Look him up and you'll see.

Okay, let's have your car keys.

Bring me a bottle of rum.

Hey, man. You're drinking way too much.

You want to end up like Guzman?

Careful with my car!

"Heliodoro Tiflis.

Arrested and released for lack of proof.

Owner, the Emerald Hotel, the Happiness Motel,

the Bar Lolita... "

Owner of the Bar Lolita!

Go have a look at your car.

WE CAME, WE ATE, WE SHAT

Motherfuckers.

Bastards.

Bar Lolita? Put Quica on the phone.

I'm a friend of Mr. Heliodoro Tiflis. Put her on or there'll be trouble.

You said you didn't know Tiflis.

Hello?

Quica, keep quiet and listen.

Don't say my name. It's me, Victor.

Don't ask why, but you're in danger.

Leave the bar and meet me at Jimenez and Decima.

Stop at the stairs, please.

No, keep going.

- But we're here. - Keep going, I'll explain after.

Here.

That was my front door.

Why all the mystery?

This is way over both our heads.

We'd better not take any chances.

Are you sure no one at the bar has your address?

No, only you and your friend have it.

Quica, someone is after me.

That means they know who I am.

I think you're in danger as well.

But I'll protect you.

Just do exactly as I say.

You got me into this, Victor.

What will I do if I lose my job at the bar?

Where will I work?

This is going to cost you.

Whatever.

But promise me you won't go back to the bar until we figure this out.

Go home.

What about you?

I'm going back to the paper. I can't go home.

Sure. You don't give a fuck about me.

I'll stay if you want.

It's not that I want you to.

But you should.

This is all your fault, isn't it?

No whisky or gin for me.

That stuff is for British hermaphrodites and American faggots.

My bar serves it all, but I'm faithful to our homegrown firewater.

Me, too. How about that?

You never really know a man.

Who'd have thought a man as important and serious as Pereira Antunez

would end up running around naked with his balls in the air?

You see, Heliodoro...

Frankly I don't think they have the deed.

But I do know it won't be easy to find.

Otherwise I wouldn't be here bothering you.

For me it's an honor

to have a gentleman like you visit my establishment.

Some people despise these places.

We all have a right to pleasure, don't we?

Divine words, Mr. Engineer.

How's that legal issue going? I mean,

the estate.

It's in Mr. Barragan's hands.

Not to worry. You have nothing to fear from him.

He's in debt up to his neck.

I wrote him a little check to motivate him.

You don't know where the deed is?

What I don't know is why there's so much interest.

You know I'm willing to write a juicy check with lots of zeros

to whoever makes that deed reappear.

Can I ask you a question?

Of course you can.

You have lots of diplomas, right?

A doctor's degree from Stanford,

some post-graduate work in London and Paris...

Then answer me this question. And forgive my asking.

At any of those fine places,

didn't you learn that it's disrespectful to offer money like that?

Excuse me?

Did it not occur to you that in a fat deal like this one

the right thing to do is include your friends?

I can't make that kind of decision on my own.

I have partners.

Talk to them, Mr. Engineer. Talking always helps.

Right.

How about a little female company? It's on the house.

At your service, Mr. Engineer!

Bonchito, what's the plan with the journalist?

- It's already done. - Yeah? You sent him a message?

A metaphor, Mr. Heliodoro.

That's right. You said he was an intellectual.

It looks like he understood. He hasn't been in today.

Search his place. Set up surveillance until he shows up.

You're not using me as bait, I hope.

Confess.

No, man.

It's because they don't know you.

If you don't want to, that's fine.

I don't blame you.

Look me in the eye, boss.

Swear that this isn't about drugs, guerrillas or the army.

I swear.

In that case, I'll do whatever you say.

Otherwise, there's no way. Those people

scare the hell out of me.

Here are my keys.

I'll tell the concierge a plumber's coming.

Hey, boss.

As long as we're here, how about we pray or something?

- Just in case. - Sorry, Estupi�an.

I'm not a believer.

I'm agnostic.

Agnostic?

You're a real piece of work.

What harm could it do? Go on,

kneel.

Hey, boss.

Is there a lot of paperwork to become agnostic?

You're an angel,

Mr. Baquetica.

Do you mind me calling you that?

I heard everyone does.

- Not everyone, but you can. - Thank you.

Normally these things aren't allowed.

I'm so very grateful, Mr. Baquetica.

Thank you.

- What's the pizza number? - The same as always, dipshit.

Hello?

Sure, he's still here. The pizza guy.

Do we need beers?

What for? The fridge is full of beer.

Otherwise I'll have to go and get them myself.

Are you fucking stupid or what?

Tiflis told us to wait here.

You obedient little faggot.

We can see the apartment from the pizzeria.

The boss will be pissed.

That fucking journalist won't come back here.

I'm sorry, Estupi�an.

I should have gone.

It did cross my mind. "What the fuck am I doing here?"

But don't worry, those guys didn't see me.

You're sure about that name?

Tiflis?

I'm positive, boss.

This is getting dangerous.

Thanks, but this is where you get off.

For your own good.

I can't get off now, this is just starting to get good.

I can take care of myself. We know who they are.

They're about to come out of their holes.

- Who? - The killers, boss.

Promise me again they aren't drug runners, and I'm in.

Silampa, don't even insinuate that I'm not doing enough.

I even had that crap on your hood analyzed.

What else can I do?

I'm grateful, Colonel. But I must insist.

We have to follow up the Susan Caviedes lead.

I know she's the one who sent Tiflis's thugs to my apartment.

How about that other thing? My speech.

My tape recorder is still at my place.

What? You mean the entire recording?

No, I hid the cassette.

I hope so. If I hear that my personal life is being spread around,

I'll cut off your balls with nail clippers.

Relax, Colonel.

I am relaxed! Look at me. I'm perfectly relaxed.

Take note:

our elegant friend Susan Caviedes

has plenty of experience at running around naked.

You heard me right.

Before joining "Heaven on Earth"

she worked as a prostitute.

And get this... just to show you

I'm on the ball. Listen to this:

I spoke personally with your boss at the paper

and got you permission to keep investigating.

Plus another interview and that phone to contact us.

Take it.

And get this:

Tiflis has an office in the penthouse at the Emerald Hotel.

Did you fix that "Heaven on Earth" contract for me?

The privilege agreement expires this week.

Susan, you know my hands are tied. Everyone's after that deed.

I can't touch it until they reach an agreement.

Is there a clause that specifies the "Heaven on Earth" property line?

Yeah, baby. But let's save business for after.

Come here, sugar.

Hurry up, man. Don't lose her.

I'll give you a big tip.

Son of a bitch!

Drop it or I'll shoot!

It's for my throat!

It's not a stun gas?

I'm not a detective, I'm a journalist.

Victor Silampa.

- Gustavo Cansaza, at your service. - Nice to meet you.

She's his lover!

Of course, they must be lovers!

And he said:

"Check my pockets for proof of another lover...

hair on my lapel,

my smile gives me away...

Check my shirt, my alibi is In shreds...

I'm being too obvious, deception is a science.

I've had It with you,

you're not

my other half,

you're nothing special... "

That's great. Keep going.

When I save up enough at the bar I want to be a singer.

Great idea.

You like my voice?

Very much.

When can I go back to work?

I don't know yet.

If Tiflis finds out we were together...

Stop scaring me.

Quica...

Be patient, okay?

I'll fix this.

I don't care. Take all the time you need.

I just hate having to charge you.

You understand?

You let the deed get stolen so you could get laid?

It won't happen again, boss.

If we don't get it back, I'll have to castrate you.

- Here she is, boss. - Let go of me.

Why did you send this animal for me?

- You still don't know? - No!

Put some ice on that eye, Runchito.

What's going on?

I'm a bit nervous, but you can help.

Give back the deed and everything will be fine.

The deed got stolen?

That's right. Problem is, you're the only person who knew I had it.

I told you to keep it in the safe.

And not to listen to these idiots.

Just give it back. I'll open some champagne,

a little caviar and straight to bed,

- as usual. - I don't have it.

I swear to God I don't.

Then who?

Didn't you say Esquilache and Barragan wanted it?

And Vargas Vicu�a?

And that journalist who disappeared?

I warned you about him, didn't I?

You're not in cahoots with any of them?

Of course not. You're my partner, my only partner.

You're the best, daddy.

Very flattering, but nobody's going anywhere until I find that deed.

Let her watch TV.

Let go of me! You can't do this!

- Move it, honey. - Let go!

Put a gag on her.

And Wilbur.

Go over to that journalist's place. Bring him here as soon as he turns up.

Yes, sir.

Bastard! Let go of me!

Have you tried imagining her taking a shit?

What?

Monica, I mean.

Sometimes it works.

"Battles with women are the only battles

that are won by retreating. "

Napoleon.

I didn't want to win.

I lost.

I always lost.

It neither irritates nor worries me.

"Losing is a question of method. "

Luis Sepulveda.

You're just improvising, my friend.

Suffering isn't always a bad thing.

I agree with him.

Estupi�an, please.

It's just that I have experience.

- With what? - Suffering.

Believe me, in the end it feels great. Worked for me. And over a lady, too.

Who was the owner of that land again?

Pereira Antunez.

People of faith always look for symbolism.

He's the one who got impaled.

Impossible. They buried him in the cemetery last month.

I'm sure of it. It must be him.

Maybe they dug him up,

took him to Tunja, then to Choconta,

and finally impaled him just for the hell of it.

But who?

Figure that one out for yourself.

I'm just thinking out loud here.

So I'm alone?

Watch what you say about being alone! That's irrelevant!

Victor, I'm tired of this subject!

Tell them to leave.

Gentlemen, please leave.

You're like a bird flying towards a tree all day

and when you get close you turn around!

- Vladimir... - Yes, sir?

- Did you read Rafael Pombo as a kid? - No, sir.

Your parents blew it for you.

Maybe, but I never met them. So I don't know.

Listen to this, it's great.

"Michin to his mother said: 'I'm going to eat some pie.

And should anyone to stop me try, they will soon be dead.

Stolen it, have I... "'

What's this asshole doing? Stop the car!

- What the hell? - Take it easy.

Remember me?

Well...

It just so happens that my boss seems to have lost some papers

and he'd like to speak to you.

What papers?

The papers.

The deed to the land.

Think back, man.

I don't know anything about it.

- What's your fucking problem? - Runcho!

You don't like my shirt? My tie?

- No, you look great. - Oh, yeah?

Bullshit!

You fucking faggot!

Runcho, relax! He just wants to know

- where you bought it! - This motherfucker

wants me to smoke him!

Stop it! That's enough!

Vladimir, apologize!

I'm sorry, sir.

You see? He apologized. Everything's fine.

Sorry about that. My partner

Loses his cool sometimes.

Don't forget to give my boss a call.

Please.

Good luck, gentlemen!

Hello?

Mr. Barragan's secretary.

No, Nancy.

Who shall I say is calling?

I'll see if he's available.

Excuse me?

- Who is it? - Mr. Esquilache. He's a pervert.

What did you say to her?

That's unacceptable!

What?

That has nothing to do with me.

How can you...?

I never saw the original!

DEED AGREEMENT ANTU N EZ - TIFLIS

Oh, you're right.

I told you to stay away from that mafia character Tiflis.

You're offending me, Marco Tulio!

Is something wrong, sir?

Get me Vargas Vicu�a on the cell phone!

The number isn't here.

Check the office! Wherever! Hurry up!

This is madness, Estupi�an.

Your mentor seemed convinced.

He struck me as pretty intelligent.

He's out of his mind.

You can shake my hand. Leprosy isn't contagious.

Holy shit! It's Osler.

That's my brother.

Estupi�an.

My condolences.

I never saw him much. But knowing he was out there made me less lonely.

Wait a moment, gentlemen.

I may be a leper, but I have a name.

Since we weren't properly introduced...

My name is Jaime Bengala. Please don't forget.

Jaime Bengala.

Excuse us, Mr. Bengala.

Thank you for your prayers, your company was a great relief.

The girl at the bar never introduces me.

I'm not allowed in the bar. I'd scare away clients.

But I have a name.

We all have names, otherwise we'd be like...

stones in a field.

Please don't forget.

Jaime Bengala.

Jaime...

Come with us.

Well, Guzman was right.

So were you.

I never thought to look for a living person among the dead.

Listen to me, boss.

We have to catch whoever killed my brother. This is personal now.

We will, Estupi�an.

We will.

Vargas Vicu�a beat us here, as usual.

Will the day ever come that we get somewhere first?

Stay there.

I'll be right out.

- Look at me, this is serious. - I am.

Who else knew? It's confidential info.

Your friend, Vargas Vicu�a.

- Who else? - A lady.

A lady sent by whom?

That I don't know, I swear. She was pretty, though.

- What was her name? - Nancy.

Nancy. Who else?

Who else?

You've got three seconds, asshole. Or should I report this?

Now I remember! A journalist.

A journalist named...?

Silamba or something.

"Silamba or something. "

"Silamba or something. "

Freeze, fuckers!

The deed!

What deed? Who sent you?

We ask the questions, ass-wipe.

We might have the same boss!

Son of a bitch!

Motherfucker!

- Faggot! - Let's go!

Start the car! It got messy!

Did you find the deed?

Estupi�an here, over.

They took off, boss.

Hold on, here comes another car.

It's got official plates, boss. Lots of tail lights.

- A Mercedes Benz. - A Mercedes, from City Council.

And an ambulance!

An ambulance!

- And the cops. - And the cops!

Estupi�an, over and out. Bye, boss.

Vladimir, don't sit here staring. Drive!

Thanks for the favor, Abuchija.

A taxi would have charged me a fortune.

Can I borrow your cell?

We have to catch those killers. The country can't go on like this.

You're right. We have to do something to change it.

Are you right or left wing, Abuchija?

Remember, phone calls cost extra.

Right wing.

- Don't go to the bar. - Shut up.

Quica...

Don't touch me.

Hello?

Yes.

Esquilache?

Yes.

No, call me when he gets out.

Estupi�an, listen to me.

If I'm not there in an hour, tell Colonel Moya that Tiflis killed us.

You got me into this!

Quica, give me a few days. We'll be fine.

- I'm scared! - Come here.

What a cute couple!

Congratulations!

Hey there, little Quica.

You're in trouble, darling.

Never shit in your own bed.

So you're the one who stole the papers from my boss...

And you, faggot!

Where are they?

I asked you a question!

There.

Quica, run!

Run, Quica!

Where do you think you're going?

Faggot!

Quica!

- Did I kill him? - I hope.

I don't want to kill anyone.

Hello?

No, I'm okay.

I'm on my way. You keep following Esquilache.

I'll be there in 10 minutes.

Come on, Quica.

- Where to? - Come on.

What happened?

He got away.

CALL MR. TIFLIS

What's this?

What are you doing?

Cut it out.

I won't let you ruin my life!

What are you doing? For God's sake, don't do anything foolish!

You told Tiflis I stole the deed,

- right? - No, I didn't.

- Then why did they come for me? - Because maybe you did!

I don't have it.

You gave it to Vargas Vicu�a, right?

Vicu�a is a very dangerous man.

I'm certain he's the one

who impaled Pereira Antunez.

You knew the impaled guy was Pereira.

- You knew it and you lied to me. - Of course I did.

You wouldn't have understood. That was before.

Now you have a gun. You understand everything.

Don't say that!

I'll say whatever I want,

you asshole.

Without me you're worthless. Shall I tell my niece

about all your debts and secretaries and bullshit?

You're nothing. You're worthless.

What happened, boss?

- Look at you! - We're okay. What happened?

Look.

Who is it?

The politician with the Mercedes.

- Do me a favor. - What?

Take her somewhere safe. She can't go home.

And the investigation?

I'll keep you informed. Just take her away.

Okay, I will.

Papers, mister.

Victor Silampa, from the Observer.

He's armed!

- Get moving! - I'm a journalist!

I work at the Observer!

Talk to Colonel Moya at Police Headquarters.

He can confirm everything.

Heliodoro Tiflis

kidnapped Pereira Antunez to force him to sign.

This photo is of the staged signing ceremony.

See where it was taken?

In a room at the Lolita Bar.

But the deed couldn't be registered...

because Vargas Vicu�a kidnapped him again.

Which explains the granary in Choconta.

The clay found beneath Antunez's nails

matches the clay at the granary.

Here's the report from the National Geology Institute.

Piedrahita examined the blood samples

and they match that of Pereira Antunez.

Which presumably means that the blood came as a result of the impalement.

But when they took him to the granary,

Antunez died of diabetes.

Here's the death certificate.

The granary in Choconta

was the last stop the body made before being impaled to intimidate

the nudists.

To summarize:

Heliodoro Tiflis kidnapped him,

Vargas Vicu�a stole him from Tiflis but Antunez died on him,

and one of them killed Estupi�an's brother and buried him as Antunez.

And all of them

were after this deed.

Whoever got their hands on this original copy

and had it registered

would own the 400 hectares right next to the housing complex

that begins construction in two months.

Good work, Silampa.

But tell me, how did you

connect all the dots?

Method, Colonel. It's a question of method.

Congratulations, Silampa.

Congratulations.

Hey, serve that mute guy a drink!

Mr. Tiflis?

- May I help you? - Come with us.

Yes?

I'll call you later.

Our brother Marco Tulio

rests in peace with Christ.

We entrust him to the love of God,

to the light of faith and Christian hope.

Let us pray for him and for ourselves

that he may be welcomed in Heaven...

Police, freeze!

- Don't move! - Stay calm! Stay calm!

- Don't move. - Here.

Bring us consolation, as we are

afflicted by his departure.

God created us for Him,

and our hearts shall never rest until they rest with Him.

Let go of me. Hold on, give me a second.

Our longing for God begins when we are baptised.

Our brother has been granted this wish,

and we must prepare ourselves every day

for this personal and definitive encounter

and to realize God's mission.

At least you'll have to answer for the poor devil in Antunez's grave.

Don't give me that, you're the one who killed Antunez.

You thought he hadn't signed.

That's why you took him, so he would sign it over to you.

That's a lie. I didn't kill him. He died of diabetes.

Then you impaled him to scare the nudists.

But you didn't scare me.

No, but that journalist sure got in your pants.

She's the one with her pants down.

Because she wants a real man!

My masculinity is off limits!

Stop it! Stop or I'll shoot.

I didn't kill Pereira Antunez.

You fucking idiot. Nobody did.

He died of natural causes, dipshit.

Colonel, I refuse to speak without my lawyer present.

Mr. Vargas, your lawyer has been

arrested.

This has been recording

the last 6 hours.

The law must be strictly

applied, as defined and blessed by the Church. And God...

is the supreme source of all authority.

That authority is represented by the police force.

We know all the details.

You can't pin Antunez's death on me.

Would you shut up!

Please, sit down.

The whole process is too long.

We investigate, accuse... the suspects hire lawyers

to defend them... Objections, appeals...

And in the end the judges make their decision.

Who are the losers? We all are.

I don't understand.

Of course you do, Mr. Engineer. But I'll clarify.

We have two options:

either we begin the cumbersome judicial process,

or we talk business.

Mr. Silampa, Colonel Moya will see you now.

Estupi�an.

No, no. He'll only see you.

Brains behind the crime: the late Councilman

Marco Tulio Esquilache and Mr. Emilio Barragan,

arrested.

Perpetrators:

Palomeque Pi�eiro Hermogenes,

alias Runcho, arrested.

Perez Pardella Calixto, alias Morsita,

killed in burglary attempt at home of Maria Gomez Casta�on, alias Quica.

Two yet unidentified hit men killed in shooting

at home of journalist

Victor Silampa.

Excuse me, Colonel.

There are a couple things I don't get.

Go ahead and ask.

Why did Barragan kill Esquilache?

Because he was his accomplice and he wanted to claim Antunez's land

as public property and for negotiating behind his back. Anything else?

Yes.

Go ahead.

You think I'll publish this version?

Of course you will. That's why I gave you the exclusive.

That's bullshit and you know it.

No, I don't. What I do know is you had sexual relations

with a minor, Maria Gomez Casta�on, alias Quica,

and that the two of you killed Calixto Perez

Pardella, alias Morsita.

Now do you see the trouble you're in?

You can go, Silampa.

Write one of those great stories of yours.

Make yourself the hero.

Win the Simon Bolivar prize for journalism.

Just don't forget my speech for "The Last Supper. "

A toast to my brother, Osler Estupi�an.

Victim of the injustice and corruption that run this country,

that make the poor even poorer and the rich even richer and more powerful.

To Osler.

Brother, the glory of God be with you.

- Hey, boss. - What?

What if we tell the United States Congress?

They all could cook, but it was my future wife

who gave the fish stew that elusive patriotic touch

that makes it food fit for emperors.

Not to mention her desserts, the pastries and puddings...

Who is it?

It's me.

Quica.

What a surprise.

That's how you greet me now?

No kiss?

You look like shit.

How are you?

I came to say goodbye.

Where are you going?

Estupi�an got me a job as a singer in Cartagena.

What do you think?

Why do you ask?

Aren't I allowed to ask?

I don't know. Of course you are.

Then answer me.

Because if you don't think

it's a good idea,

then I'll stay.

Well...

it's a good idea.

A great idea.

Yeah?

You think so?

Then...

goodbye.

Stay here with your mannequin.

You shithead.

I mention this last case

which required my attention, not to praise my own expertise...

which would be a flagrant act of narcissism...

but to demonstrate that the virus of evil

knows neither borders nor hierarchies,

and can infect anyone, for the criminal organization in question

included common street crooks as well as educated men in suits.

My point, ladies and gentlemen,

is that this evil which I now address

is of an innate criminal nature.

It crawls beneath, ready to deceive us,

immune to national borders and tradition.

It nests in our very own patriotic yucca bread,

as well as in foreign foods like hot dogs and cheeseburgers

with mayonnaise and ketchup and onion...

in our celebrated varieties of Parmentier tubercles,

glazed Peking duck,

Venezuelan shredded beef and beans,

French onion soup,

subtle Swiss chocolates, baroque Viennese biscuits,

cocido Madrile�o with chorizo and pork fat,

British sausages and fried eggs,

Italian spaghetti carbonara,

barbecued beef from Argentina...

In the country of the Sacred Heart,

there's no absolution for anyone

when cash is king

and decency won't cut it. Honor is dead...

We hack through a jungle of semantics.

Survival of the most violent...

Scruples are an invention

of a faraway past covered with dust.

They've bribed us all,

nobody beats the rap.

We all carry guns,

we like our cash under the counter.

Nobody's innocent anymore.

Everyone's a delinquent.

They come in all shapes and colors,

the worst ones wear white collars.

Where politics means theft,

millionaires, money and golden papaya...

Social animals, like lions,

and wealth is the prey. We're all predators.

They've bribed us all,

nobody beats the rap.

We all carry guns,

we like our cash under the counter.

They've bribed us all,

nobody beats the rap.

We all carry guns,

we like our cash under the counter.

They've bribed us all,

nobody beats the rap.

We all carry guns,

we like our cash under the counter.