All language subtitles for Rogue.City.2020.FRENCH.WEBRip.x264-VXT

Extraction!

Fuck you, haters!

So, you're Vronski?

Did you steal that name from Tolstoy?

You read Tolstoy?

I was upset
when she threw herself under the train.

Anna Karenina...

She kills herself for that officer,
motherfucker. I didn't like it.

Not the motherfucker,
she kills herself overcome with remorse

for abandoning
her son and her husband.

- It's not the same.
- That's your take on it.

For me, he's a motherfucker. Which means
you bear the name of a motherfucker.

You could do something for me.

My wife's dying in a hospital
from a metastatic cancer.

I put in two visit requests,
but that fucking judge rejected them.

This woman is everything to me.

You can take me
straight to the rat hole to die,

given the time I still have to do, or…

we stop by the hospital
so I get to say goodbye.

Your call.

Where's the hospital?

I won't even ask you to uncuff me.

You have five minutes and I'm coming too.

Angelina.

It's me.

Paul.

I don't have much time.

The cops are waiting for me outside.
I'm being transferred.

I wanted to bid you farewell.

Help me go, Paul.

Do it.

I beg of you.

I'm in too much pain.

I want to close my eyes
looking at your face.

I can't let you do that.

Wait for me in the hallway.

Please.

I love you.

You were the sunshine of my life.

Thank you.

I'm starving.
How about pizza at Dédé's?

I can't. I got my kid.

- Big Max? Got any plans?
- I'll be banging your wife.

You know what she likes?

The fuck, that's my deodorant!
Give it back!

Here.

Is that why your armpits
smell like his balls?

What did you say?

You are all assholes!

Don't forget
tomorrow's the party for the new chief.

We're already unwanted,
so don't show up dressed as hobos.

Why? What type is he?

The type that doesn't like our type.

Another one
who'll spend his time pissing us off.

Do you know his name?

Leonetti. Ange Leonetti,
one of my old crime squad bosses.

Did he put that stick up your ass?

At least you won't fuck up like today

by changing the agreed-upon route.

Maranzano arrived on time
at the prison where he was expected.

There were no incidents.

Stop shitting your pants.

You know they found
his old lady dead in her bed?

It was right after you left.

What are you implying?

Nothing at all.

If you say
you were with them the whole time

and she died of natural causes,

I'll let it go.

Everything is in my report, Costa.

Now, if you've got any requests,
go ask your pal Leonetti.

Next time, go to the right locker room.

It's men only here.

Oh!

Big balls and tiny brains.

Indeed, I'm at the men's.

The real ones.

- Hey, Eugène!
- Hey, kiddo!

Hm…

If someday
something bad happened to me...

If I ended up paralyzed in bed…

and I asked you to pull the plug,
what would you do?

Why do you ask?

Tell me. What would you do?

I don't know.

In the meantime…

I have other plans for you tonight.

I'd also like to thank
the Mayor of Marseille

and the Prefect

for joining us to celebrate
such an important event,

the arrival
of a new police chief in our city.

A city we adore,

but a city that's dangerous, as we know.

I also want to thank
everyone at the Anti-Gang Squad

and the Anti-Robbery Squad.

I'm proud to be their chief

and proud of their results
in fighting drug trafficking

and organized crime.

A round of applause!

And now, please give a warm welcome

to the man we all came to see tonight,

an extraordinary cop,

of unparalleled integrity.

Our new inter-regional director
of the judiciary police,

Mr. Ange Leonetti.

Thank you.

- You've had enough.
- Lay off me.

- Stop.
- Butt out!

Fuck!

I never claimed to be a good cop.

And I don't know any.

I just know some men who are
more or less brave, more or less skilled,

more or less perceptive,

who have one aim,

only one,

the public good,

and who do their job

while respecting
what I call the three-H rule.

Humility.

Honor.

Honesty.

Look at those…

Look at those Arabaccia.

Fucking sons of goats.

When the other bitch comes, we strike.

- What if he doesn't?
- He will.

You should take Sacha home
and take care of her.

When was your last evening together?

What for? It's her daily routine.

Fucking alcoholic!

Who's that hottie with them? See?

My daughter.

Just graduated top of her class,

Officer program, and…

She starts at the Anti-Robbery Squad
tomorrow morning.

She'll be your colleague.

As for you,

listen to your chief's advice

and deal with your wife,

so this kind of situation
never happens again.

"Poverty and disgrace"

come to him who ignores instruction,

but whoever heeds reproof

"is honored."

That's from the Bible.

Book of Proverbs.

Yeah...

Arrogance is the weakness of leaders.
We're all in the same boat.

When a boss quotes the Bible
and the code of conduct to say hello,

I'm not sure we all fit in the boat.

I'm off. What time tomorrow?

Outdoor briefing at 7:30.

Leonetti's reviewing the troops.

Seven in the morning?
Why not five when he's at it?

Does the motherfucker never sleep?

Nope. He doesn't sleep, smoke, or drink.

Motherfucker's on time.

Let's go!

Oh…

- How's it going?
- Don't forget what you owe me!

Move! Move!

Move!

There are cops everywhere!
We have to leave! Forget it, damn it!

Go!

- Where's Sergio?
- He got shot.

Nine dead, four wounded,
with two in critical condition.

The Larbi brothers and Farid Benzaoui
were among the victims.

You get the picture.

Any witnesses?

No one's talking.

Why is he here?

- Who's he?
- Serge Rizzo.

From the Bastiani clan.

He claims he was in the bar
when it happened.

Why, do you know him?

Yeah.

What were you doing in an Arab bar,
Rizzo? Not your typical haunt.

I had a date.

- With who?
- A chick.

- Name?
- What's it to you?

We got 48 hours to talk about it, shitbag.
Is he well enough to be questioned?

Who told you to talk to him?

This is for the Anti-Robbery Squad
and Crime.

I will do the questioning.

You're only allowed to eavesdrop.

Oh!

Don't you worry.

We'll call you
if we need to tilt at windmills.

Go take a walk…

Clown.

I don't give a shit.

- You got two hours to spring me.
- Or else?

Or you'll be singing
in the Baumettes' showers

with an enlarged asshole.

I was chilling at the bar…

and I got shot at.
Put it in your stupid report.

What about the eyewitnesses?
What about them, moron?

What eyewitnesses? There were none.
They all ran around like chickens!

Do you know the proverb that goes,

"Shaving donkeys

is a waste of soap and time"?

I'm not here to wipe up your shit.

Do as I say.

Or I'll tell everything I know.
Everything.

Understand?

Tell me.

Are you right or left-handed?

- Who the fuck cares?
- Shut up and answer my question!

Right-handed. Why?

What's wrong with you?

Fuck, calm down! Stay away from me!

Everything will be fine, kiddo.

Just relax.

It's okay.

Can you explain?

All we have is Costa's version.

Rizzo asked to go for a piss,
Costa uncuffed him,

Rizzo jumped on him to grab his gun.

They fought. The gun just went off.

Can we talk?

This way.

Why are you here?

No, no, no!

Only you knew we'd be at the New Club.
Who talked?

Leave her alone.

We're gonna start by fucking your wife.

Sosa, go for it, fuck her!

- No, don't!
- Then, we'll cut off her fingers.

And if you don't tell us what you know,
we'll carve her eyes out.

I don't know!

There are other cops working for them.

How did they know?

Don't do it! Don't do it! Stop!

- Stop!
- Shut up, bitch!

- Stop!
- Shut your face!

Stop! Don't do it!

Okay! I'll give you a scoop! A big scoop!

A huge tip for you.

Six hundred kilos of cocaine.
It's Bastiani's deal.

I swear it's true.

At least four million.

It's a serious tip.

Hands off her.

No second chances.

If it fails,
I'll be back and I'll kill you all.

Sosa, let's go!

Motherfuckers.

Have you known Costa long?

He's a veteran. He's been
in this division for more than 20 years.

Marseille born and bred. Marseille cop.

He's not my cup of tea as a man,
but he's a good cop.

Beyond reproach,
excellent results stat-wise.

What about Vronski?

What about him?
He was outside when it happened.

Just gathering info.

He's been my friend
for more than 20 years, Major De Vrindt.

We spent more time talking
in stakeout cars than fucking our women.

So I know about the two of you.

You're here to shed light
about a thug who died in here,

not to piss off an ex
over a sex affair that turned sour.

Do we agree?

I deal with my sex affairs in private,
Captain Campana.

For the rest, I'll do as usual.

Meaning I'll ask whatever I want
to whomever I want.

Especially given the circumstances.

Meaning?

Your troops have been
under regular surveillance

by our services for over three months now.

Sources say some agents

belonging to the Anti-Gang
and Anti-Robbery Squads

are frequently supplying

top-secret information

to a handful of big-time gangsters.

Mostly Corsicans…

who use the info

to regain control of drug trafficking

and to eliminate
their rivals on the North Side.

Given the gangland warfare

and the number of petty thugs
killed recently,

you understand
why our chiefs take this very seriously.

That's crap. No one leaks here.

The investigation will tell us.

It seems like the killers entered
with one goal in mind.

That is...

the Larbi brothers, Saïd and Youssef,

plus Farid Benzaoui.

Three scumbags with records

for robbery, violence,
and drug trafficking.

They were met just before the attack

by three cohorts who dodged the bullets

and got away.

Franck Nadal, another known criminal,

a specialist in racketeering, robbery,

and now a big-shot drug trafficker

in the Félix Pyat projects
on the North Side.

Thierry Sosa, his right-hand man, and…

Sosa's babe,

Michèle Ngock Yango, a Black girl,
and a total psycho.

Our goals are, one,

locate and neutralize Nadal
and his two cohorts,

two, identify their contacts
and possible enemies,

three,
and this is for our Anti-Robbery pals,

locate the Mercedes SUV
used in the attack.

Our psycho-killers probably burnt it,
but who knows?

This obviously must be resolved ASAP.

The Chief calls me every ten minutes.

The Prefect is shitting bricks.

And the press is already shitting on us.

Not to mention...

Rizzo's death on our premises.

Where is that at, Costa? Did De Vrindt
and her dogs validate your deposition?

- They are waiting on the autopsy results.
- Really? Good.

One last thing. For internal reasons,

vacation time and days off
will be rejected as of today.

Until further notice. Oh! Hey!

The order has come from on top.

Okay?

Questions?

Dismissed. Thank you.

They are pains in the ass!

As if we didn't work hard enough.

- It's because of that prick.
- Are you talking to me?

What's your problem? What's your problem?
What's with you?

Come here! Come on then! Let go of me!

Let me mess him up.

What the fuck? Beat it!

Come and get me. Move your ass, move it!

Let's go get a drink.

Just drop it. It's over!

You don't understand.
De Vrindt wasn't sent by chance.

She's here to fuck with us.

I just wanted to warn you.

- It wasn't me who interrogated Rizzo.
- It's bigger than that.

She's investigating cops in our office
who might be leaking info.

They've been tracking us for months

to weed out the rats.

They've got no leads yet,
but it smells bad.

I can't be telling you this.

But if you know something,
you have to tell me.

Wait, who do you think I am, Georges?

Even if I knew anything, I'd keep quiet.

And if I did know anything,
I'd have dealt with it myself.

I don't need the cop investigators
to deal with this kind of issue.

Okay.

And what about Rizzo?

Want my opinion?

No one wants to know the truth.

What matters is to find out
what Rizzo was doing at the New Club.

Try to get info at the autopsy.
Maybe it will give us a lead.

Hm…

And you should go to bed earlier.
You look tired. Tense.

It makes you talk crap.

- Hold on.
- No. Don't answer!

Hold on, hold on…

- It's Headquarters.
- Damn it, do they never fuck?

No, never.

- You called?
- Sorry to call so late.

- I got the autopsy results.
- Shoot.

The coroner found a large bruise
on the thorax.

According to him, it was caused
by a violent impact from a firearm.

- So?
- So?

Have you ever seen a guy
wear a bulletproof vest to a bar?

Your man Rizzo was bullshitting you.

If he had a vest,
then he was part of the commando.

Okay, thanks. Talk to you later. Ciao.

Hey, Max! Can you give us a hand
when you're done flirting?

There's two of you for three sardines!
Can't you see I'm busy?

What's wrong with my sardines?
Don't you like them?

Your sardines are perfect, Eugène.

But they weirdly remind me
of the ones from three weeks ago.

I caught them this morning, moron!

When you're my age,

we'll see if you wake up
at five every day to go fishing!

I wake up at five for big fish only.
By the way, when's next?

The lab got a print off Rizzo's gun.
They're trying to find matches now.

You got my prints in your thing?

Why? You got skeletons in your closet?

Oh, kiddo! You don't know it all.

I was a badass
when you were still in diapers.

Hey, Sacha's not well.

You should talk to her.

You okay, Sacha?

I'm leaving Will, Richard.

Till now, I've held up for the kids,
but I can't do it anymore.

I should have listened to my dad.

"Never marry an asshole or a cop."

And I married an asshole cop.

Did you tell him?

Not yet.

Take care of him.

He's going to need you.

I promise.

Go on. Answer.

Yeah?

Okay, okay. Thanks. Later.

I'll join you in a bit.

We found a match, guys.
We got a name. Victor Scanga.

"May your kingdom come."

May your will be done

on Earth as in Heaven.

Give us this day your daily bread.

And forgive us our trespasses

as we forgive
those who trespass against us.

And lead us not into temptation,

but deliver us from evil.

For thine is the kingdom,

the power and the glory,

"forever and ever."

- Amen.
- Amen.

If you don't mind,

we'll now take a moment of silence…

for Serge.

Victor Scanga?

Captain Vronski, Marseille Anti-Gang.

Please follow us without making a fuss.

Then you can wait for me outside.
I'm a little busy.

Yeah, I can see. Maybe that way,
you won't do anything stupid.

You know blood in church is bad luck?

You stay with me.

You come to my friend's funeral.
You're shameless.

What you're doing is not right. Not right.

You know what we say? "He who lays a hand
on my people should protect his people."

You've been warned.

Get going.

- Go on.
- Go on.

See you soon.

We found your prints
on the gun used by your man Rizzo.

You can say whatever you like,

you're good to go to Baumettes.

And given the havoc you wreaked,
the judges will go heavy-handed.

Who were you with?

I already said I wasn't there.

What about your prints?

I don't know.

That won't help your case.

That night,
I was out drinking with friends.

- At the 13 Coins Bistro. Ask the owner.
- I don't give a shit about your alibi.

Your prints mean
you're complicit in nine murders.

That's a life sentence.
Isn't that too expensive for a few drinks?

I didn't know about the killing.
I just supplied the guns.

- And?
- And what?

- If I talk, I die.
- In jail too, you will.

On the outside, you might have a chance.

You don't seem to get it. The victims
have pals who are still behind bars.

You'll have to avoid the showers.

Can I have one?

What do I get if I give you a name?

You go home
and tell your kid a bedtime story.

You have my word.

Matéo Maranzano.

He bought my guns.

- The Old Man's son?
- Yeah.

I hope you know what you're doing.

If a guy fucks your wife
behind your back, what do you do?

You either smoke him,

or you make him eat his shit.

Fuck that motherfucker.

Police!

Move!

To the street! He's taking off!

Police! Freeze!

Drop your gun!

Don't move!

Don't move!

- Freeze!
- I'm unarmed.

Step back!

- Drop the gun!
- I dropped it!

On your knees! On your knees, damn it!

Maranzano's death will lead to reprisals.

By his accomplices,

but especially his family.

I mean his father.

Paul Maranzano, a.k.a. the Old Man.

For those who don't know him, he's
the former leader of the Valinco gang.

He is now at Arles Penitentiary

for gangland killings
against the Bastianis,

Joseph Bastiani
and Santou Bastiani, a.k.a. Fatso.

For reasons still unknown,

Matéo Maranzano
decided to break his ties with his father

and switched to the Bastiani clan.

We know only that Matéo Maranzano
was subjected to pressure

and threats by Franck Nadal.

This explains why the Bastianis
got involved at the New Club

to help him and get rid of the problem.

What about Scanga?

He's playing both sides.

He's the Bastianis' associate,
and also Nadal's whore.

It's only when he heard
Matéo was fucking his wife

that he went full kamikaze

and tried to fuck the Bastianis,
who knew it.

Why did you release him?

We made a deal.

Since when do cops make deals
with guys involved in nine deaths?

What about the other commando members?

Do we have any leads?

For that,
we were counting on Matéo Maranzano.

We know that he hung out
with Antoine Fragaglia,

another known criminal here,
and Joseph Bastiani.

Truth is,

they could be the other shooters,
but we have no proof.

- Where are they now?
- Business trip, supposedly.

- And the older brother?
- He has a solid alibi.

Even if chances are he ordered it.

Is he the clan leader?

No.

It's the mother. Catarina Bastiani.

She runs it all.

Those Bastiani fuckers!

Just lock up the old lady.

At her age, she'll end up blabbing.

Careful, she's not your typical woman.

She did four years
in solitary 15 years ago.

To protect her husband,
involved in a murder.

In four years, she never spoke.

So I don't think
she'd go down in 48 hours.

Hey, guys,

if he fucks her, we're screwed.

But he will fuck her!

He will fuck her.

Make sure he doesn't drink too much.
We know how it always ends.

Here. I'm out of here.

- See you tomorrow, guys.
- See you.

Will, you should go home.

What for?

Come on…

What?

You came to check
if we paid for our drinks?

There's nothing to get here, Katia.

We have our methods,

adapted to this city.

So far, they've worked just fine.

I can see that, yeah.

Eleven deaths in three days.
You'll have to explain.

- Can I buy you a drink?
- No, sorry. I'm going home.

Why are you scared?

Who do you think tipped off
the Corsicans about the New Club?

Nadal avoids showing up in public places.

He sets up last-minute meetings

at places only he knows.

If the Corsicans showed up,
it means they got a tip.

Sorry, I can't help you.

Stop it!

Where are you taking me?

Wherever you want.

Wherever I want?

- Here then.
- Okay.

- You okay? You okay?
- Yeah.

He reeks of alcohol.
But I think you already know that.

What the fuck happened?

A BMW SUV, two guys inside.

Apparently, they shot him for no reason.

- Did he recognize them?
- He says he didn't.

And not only is he already fired,
he now risks prison.

What did Leonetti say?

In Paris meeting the Minister.

He was briefed and is on the next plane.

You deal with him.
I'm fed up with his bullshit.

I'm beat. I need to sleep.

It's not my fault, Richard. I swear.

- Who were they?
- I don't know.

They shot straight at us.
I couldn't see anything.

I need your help.

Don't worry, pal. It'll all be fine.

I'm sorry, Richard.
I need to draw his blood.

You know the routine.

Can we do it inside?

Yeah, sure.

Take my arm, Hélène.

I can't do that.

Take mine, I said.

Hélène...

He'll go to jail.

What you did is unworthy

of a police officer, Captain Vronski.

I got wind of your skills
in donating blood.

You'll join your friend Kapelian
before the Disciplinary Board

which will convene urgently
within the next 48 hours.

And count on me
to influence the said board members

to make sure
that your punishment will be exemplary.

Consider yourself lucky
my daughter got out of it unharmed.

Are you looking for something?

Does Vronski live here?

We got a message for him.

Tell him to get his nose out
of our business and to mind his own.

He'll understand.

Boy or girl?

Get out of here.

If we have to come back, we will open
your belly and throw your kid to the fish.

Dirty whore.

Understood?

"One by one they disappeared,"

leaving as only proof of their presence

"a big black circle
burnt in the clearing."

Where is it?

In wolf heaven.

- There?
- Yep.

"Traces of ash in the November mist.

The fire died, but the wolves still live."

What do we do now that you got fired?

The mortgage, car payments,
school tuition, etc.

What do we do?

- Did you think about it?
- I'm not fired yet.

All of this for a whore
you couldn't even fuck!

Asshole!

The kids are asleep.

What do you care about the kids?
You're never here!

Did you tell the kids how you ratted
on a friend to save your balls?

You're nothing but shit, Kapelian!
A fucking rat!

- They'll all know you squealed.
- Shut your face!

- You'll be homeless like a moron!
- Shut your face!

Shut your face!

Who were they?

Richard, answer me.

It's just intimidation. Thugs do that.

That's no answer.

- They won't come back. I promise.
- What will you do?

Yeah?

Kapelian ratted to the Board.

He spilled the beans for a plea deal.

It means you're gonna pay

and you have to lay low for a while.

Given your service record,
I calmed Leonetti down.

I got you a six-month suspension

with 70% of your salary.

Enjoy tanning your ass on your boat.

It's now or never.

Richard, you hear me?

Bastiani sent guys here.

They threatened Zoé.

All the more reason to sail away.

So?

This one.

And him.

Are you sure?

You don't forget scum like them.

They tried to rape me, Georges.

Sorry for your son, Paul.

Give me the name of the snitch.

I'll thank you with a good tip in return.
A huge drug delivery.

And on top of it,
Bastiani's fucking head on a platter.

You know the name.

I want to hear you say it.

Old Man ratting is weird.

It's unlike him. Sure it's not a decoy?

I gave him Scanga in exchange.

Are you insane?

If we make it, we get the Bastianis
and re-establish our reputation.

And what's your plan?

Two speedboats loaded
with 600 kilos each. Four men per boat.

Bastiani and his men
will be at the pickup.

Unloading will be at the Braméou Creek,
at Saint-Cyr-sur-Mer.

- Are you sure about the date?
- Why?

Did I ever give you a bum tip?

If you screw me, you know the price.

Get lost.

Beat it.

It's done.

You okay, son?

How was school? Got a snack?

No snack?

No snack.

Please, don't! Stop! Stop!
Not here, don't!

Don't die a wimp in front of your son.

No! No!

The Old Man says hi. Bitch!

At 4:40 this afternoon,
a known criminal was murdered

on François Moisson street
in Marseille's historic city center.

Witnesses say he was killed
in front of his seven-year-old son

as they were leaving his school.

The killers then fled

on a black TMAX scooter.

We will keep you informed…

Where's that car from?

I borrowed it from the impound lot.

We set phony plates
and there's all we need under its hood.

No personal weapons.

Come on, help yourselves.

Where are these from?

Seized during a raid. Don't worry.

You look like death warmed over.

You sure you can manage?

Sure, I will. Can we talk, please?

Later, Will.

Sosa? They've got too many weapons.

Let the boats take the money.

We'll nab the Bastianis with the dope.

Copy that.

What the fuck is this? Franck!

Police!

I'll get the Cayenne. Cover me!

Go, go!

Get down!

Zach, fuck!

Zach!

Move!

Let's beat it!
They're taking the boats!

Fuck!

Let's get going!

Get in the car!

Puta nacha!

You'll make it, Zach. Hold on.

What are you doing here?

I'm in trouble. I need your help.

- Blood test wasn't enough?
- Wait. Please.

I have a colleague bleeding bad in my car.

- Well, take him to the hospital.
- I can't.

Help me, dammit.

Bring him in.

The bullet pierced his throat
into the muscle.

No vital organs were touched.

I stopped the bleeding,
treated the wound.

But he lost a lot of blood.

He needs bed rest.

How long do you intend
to leave him here?

What mess did you get into now, Richard?

Eugène!

Hide this in your hold.

What's in it?

No questions.

As long as it's not drugs.

According to preliminary intel,

the shootout killed many victims

and was payback for gangland killings
between drug dealers.

According to a witness living
on the heights of Braméou Creek,

a number of individuals
who fled the shootout scene

managed to get away

on board a black speedboat
with a powerful engine.

The said speedboat was found
completely burnt

a half hour away from the scene,
at the Baie des Singes beach.

Did you know
Campana's trying to reach you?

You were not answering, so he called me.

Why would I answer?

That shootout, was it you?

- What shootout?
- The one all over the news.

Don't make me ask the others.
I know it was you.

Then why didn't you tell Campana?

He's expecting you.

You never answer my calls?

Where were you?

Hey!

So what do we have?

We ID'd two victims,

Antoine Fragaglia and Bastien Nicoli.

Both affiliated with the Bastianis.

And the other four?

Not in our files. Apparently Spanish.

We took their prints
and sent their face pics to Interpol.

We're waiting to hear back.

We also found a speedboat

completely burnt
on the Baie des Singes beach.

Probably used by the culprits
to escape this clusterfuck.

And that Range Rover?

Stolen, fake plates.

But we found tire tracks from a SUV
that might be a Cayenne.

You have carte blanche.

Did you forget? You suspended me.

This shooting is the last straw.
Leonetti wants everyone on it.

You lucked out.

What's that?

The icing on the cake.

One of the victims was an undercover cop.

They must be from his unit.

Major Costa here.

You tried to fuck me over again, bitch?

You're gonna eat your mother's bones!

You, your wife and kids,
you're all going down, fucking bastard!

I'm gonna...

Got a minute?

The watch on the beach. Ring a bell?

Motherfucker!

I want half of your take.

Or I tell De Vrindt.

I suggest we go straight to Leonetti!

How does that sound, shitbag?

Leonetti?

Huh? Go ahead!

Leonetti!

He's in this up to his neck, you moron!

Go on, hit me.

I've been working for him for years.

I do his shit work,
all his shady meetings.

The Bastianis have him by the balls.

No idea why.

He covers for them,
tips them off about operations.

How's that for you?

The drop-off on the beach.

He gave me the info.

Since I already dealt with Nadal,

Leonetti had the idea

of using me to tip him off.

Hoping he'd get rid
of all those assholes.

You know the rest.

Now Nadal thinks I betrayed him.

He's gonna try to kill me.

- Ah, you need the money so you can run?
- None of your business.

I eat my shit as I see fit.

As for you,

either you fork over the loot or I talk.

Get it?

You'll get your money, motherfucker.

You'll get it.

But after you contact Nadal for me.

We'll see.

Franck Di Stefano was a police captain

at Narcotics for 12 years,

in charge of undercover ops.

As such,

he'd infiltrated
a network of Spanish traffickers

involved with Corsican gangsters
based in Marseille,

including the Bastiani brothers.

He was killed last night on a mission

with other members of the squad
found dead at the beach.

So I'm asking you

to remain at our colleagues' disposal

to facilitate the search

and, we all hope,

to quickly neutralize
those responsible for this crime.

Captain Campana will liaise between you

and the agents under Captain Jankovic,

deputy head of the Narcotics Bureau

and head of their Special Ops.

That will be all.

You're dismissed.

We couldn't know, Max.

They shot at us first.

Did you see the Bureau guys' faces?
They'll never give up those guys.

This time
we'll end up behind bars for sure.

Wait for ballistics.

- Maybe a Corsican shot him.
- So what?

We're all in it deep.
This time we're all gonna pay.

This is cop killing.

Let's raid Bastiani's fucking place.

We'll plant the guns we used.

We put it all on him.
If he blabs, no one will believe him.

It's too risky.
There were two guys in the Cayenne.

If they both say they saw
four masked cops with armbands,

there will be a judge
who'll push the investigation deeper.

What do we do? Kill them?

Any news from Will?

Nope. His wife hasn't seen him all day
and he's not answering his phone.

Try his usual hangouts and find him.

I'll check on Zach.

We'll touch base tonight to talk.

See you later.

Why the fuck are you here?

Why won't you pick up?

- What do you wanna drink?
- Nothing.

Come on.

- I told you I'm not drinking.
- A drink for Big Max!

Anti-gang super cop.

Anti-gangbang!

Did you bring me my money?

We can leave with a million each,
but we stay here like morons.

You're drunk. Huh?

Let go of me, let go of me!

Can we dodge this?

No idea.

What did you tell everyone?

You had trouble with your daughter.

Hélène told me about the cop.

Even if we make it,
we'll never get over that.

It was a mess, Zach. We couldn't know.

I'll take full responsibility.

I'm not asking you to.

What's everyone saying?

Everyone's on edge.
Narcs keeping tabs on us.

Go on.

Okay, thanks.

It was ballistics.

They ID'd the bullet that killed the cop.

A 9-mm. Parabellum.

The only 9-mm. We used was Will's.

I gotta piss, and we go. Okay?

De Vrindt to HQ.

Armed attack, 29 Chancel Street.

I'm at the scene. Send backup.

Let me explain how things went down.

You and your mad-dog crew

intervened unofficially

on a drug deal,

on a tip from an unknown source.

Things went bad.

Gunfire was exchanged.

You ran off with the loot
and your wounded man

that you entrusted later to your friend,
Dr. Litvak.

For reasons yet unknown,

the Bastianis…

figured out it was you.

They went to the doctor's place
to make Damato talk.

Now my question is…

where is the money?

Yeah?

They just found Costa and his wife.

Murdered.

In their home.

Is what Jankovic said true?

What do you think?

You're no dumber than him.

Why didn't you tell me?

To what end?

You'd be in this mess with us.

What did you do with the guns you used?

I hid them.

And the money?

Why? How much do you want to shut up?

I'm sorry.

Nanou and I were lovers.

She confided in me recently.

Costa was wheeling and dealing
with Nadal. He killed them.

I'm sure of it.

I tried to go and whack him,
but the motherfucker vanished,

as you know.

Fuck.

She didn't deserve this.

I know where to find him.

I got the contact and the money.

We can lure him in and kill him.

Just you and I, Georges.

I brought you this. Yours, right?

It would have been sad
if they had found it in Costa's office.

Thanks.

I overheard you in the locker room.

I heard all the stuff about my father.

Costa was trying to save his ass.
You shouldn't believe the gossip.

Read this. It might change your mind.

Major Costa's memoirs.

Dates, hours, payments. All there.

Found in his drawer with the watch.

Stop.

Arms up.

Okay, you can go inside.

Jesus, fuck.

You see so many corpses.
Why not marry a coffin?

Why the fuck are you here?

I wanted to speak to Catarina.

She's mourning a child
the cops stole from her.

I recommend you get lost.

Before I feed
your eyes and balls to my dogs.

Killing a cop in front of 30 guests

is bad for business.

Think it over.

Your guests are not all friends, Fatso.

Stop calling me Fatso.

Some would love to see you in jail
to steal your business.

Why do you wanna see her?

To propose a deal.

Costa spoke to me before he died.

We all know he played all sides,
and that's why he's dead.

I found a notebook in his belongings.

In it, he wrote down
every operation he did for you.

From the very beginning.

Dates, hours, meetings, drop-offs,
phone taps, payoffs. It's all there.

So?

One of the guys killed at the creek

was an undercover cop.

Now the Narcs are involved,

and they're gonna hit hard.

Do you know what it means
if they get the notebook?

Raids, blocked accounts,
arrests, custody, and prison.

No lawyer will get you off the hook.

What do you propose?

I'll give you the notebook.

And in return,
you give me the dirt on Leonetti

and stop blackmailing him.

I'll nab Nadal for the murders
so you'll have time to clean the house.

Burn what must be burned.

And then, you lie low in Corsica.

And when do we get the money?

Never.

That's the price for eliminating Nadal.

But I'll give you the notebook.

Go get the file, please.

Do you know
the only difference between you and me?

A police badge.

- Yeah?
- Nadal?

Who's this?

I'm the cop who fucked you over
the other night. Braméou Creek, remember?

Who gave you my number, son of a bitch?

Meet me at 6 p.m. The usual spot.
I'm taking over from Costa.

I'll bring your money
and answer your questions. Be on time.

- Who's he?
- Did you really think I'd come alone?

First the money, then we talk.

- The other one?
- In the trunk. First one is to show you.

The second, if we agree.

You're a smart one.

Hands on the wheel.

What the fuck is this?

My money was stolen with this crap gun?

I heard you killed one of your own.
Is that true?

A dead cop means one less prick.

You got balls, but I'm not sure
I wanna do business with you.

How do I know you're not a scumbag
like that Costa bitch?

He squealed as we fucked his wife.

Here.

What is this?

You know what to do now.

When did the lies start?

You'd rather have seen that
on the front pages?

I'd rather you have stayed
the cop I admired.

Who is she?

She's the wife of a thug I had locked up.

The Bastianis found out and trapped me.

They blackmailed me,

threatened to tell her husband.

Which meant…

not only my death, but yours too.

I had no choice.

And Mom? Was she still alive during this?

We can now say,
based on the comparison tests

run on the guns found in the car

belonging to Nadal and his accomplices

in the industrial zone

where they were killed,

that those guns are the same weapons
used at the Braméou Creek

on the night
when Captain Di Stefano lost his life.

We consider them responsible

for ambushing the drug traffickers,

who went there to make a transaction.

They are thus the origin of the incident

that cost our colleague's life.

Rumor has it that some anti-gang officers

were involved in the shootout.

I am referring
to Lieutenant Kapelian's tragic suicide.

I have no comments on that matter.

Can you tell us more about the murder
of Major Costa and his wife?

DNA tests from the crime scene
should allow us

to quickly discover the identity
of whoever committed this crime.

Thank you.

Commissioner, please!

One question, please!

Commissioner, one more question!

Please!

You won't get off so easily, Campana.

You and your thugs…

Take my word for it.

How are you?

I came to thank you.

What you did
for Zach and Hélène was brave.

What are you going to do?

I'm leaving. To try and forget this shit.

The others?

They keep their jobs.

No charges or sanctions?

No.

Leonetti promised.

You'll have to explain.

You'll find out by yourself.

Kiddo!

Not forgetting anything?

Keep it. Share it with Zach and Max.

I don't want your old underwear.

I'm gonna miss you, Eugène.

Take care of yourself.

Take good care of her.

Don't worry.

Bye, Eugène!

No!