All language subtitles for ENG__The.Outfit.2022.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H.264-EVO

To the naked eye,

a suit appears to consist
of two parts:

a jacket and trousers.

But those two
seemingly solid parts

are composed of
four different fabrics.

Cotton, silk, mohair and wool.

And those four fabrics are
cut into 38 separate pieces.

The process of sizing, forming,
conjoining those pieces

requires no fewer than
228 steps.

So the first step
is measurement.

But "measurement" doesn't mean,
just reaching for your tape,

"So many inches here,
so many inches there."

No, no, no.

You cannot make something good

until you understand
who you're making it for.

All clothing says something.

I've had gentlemen
walk into my shop and boast,

"I don't care about
what I wear."

And assuming that's true,
doesn't that say something, too?

So, who is your customer?

And what are you trying to say
about him?

A man walks through your door,
what about him can you observe?

Good morning.

Is he timid,

hunched over
like a midday clock?

Or does he stand
with confidence,

spine at six and twelve?

Is this a man
of springtime pastel,

clamoring to be noticed?

Or is this a man
of gray and brown,

blending into the hurried crowd?

Is this a man comfortable
in his station?

Or does he pine
for grander things?

And who would this man
like to be?

And who is he underneath?

Take your measure...

and when you understand
who he is...

Mr. Boyle.

Then you're ready to begin.

Knock, knock.

How's business, English?

Evening, sirs.

Wow. It's a nice one.

Yeah, that's really nice.

You making that for my pops?

Not this one.

You're making those fine threads
for somebody else? Who?

Master Richie, you know
I can't talk about my gentlemen.

Is that what we are?
Your gentlemen.

Whoa, get a load of English.

Keeping his lips shut tight.

- Your father was here.
- Yeah?

Yesterday.

He said your business

is undergoing
some manner of expansion.

He said I should plan on making
you a new suit to celebrate.

Francis, what do you think?
New threads?

Long as we're here?

- Not tonight.
- Hey, come on. We got time.

Not tonight.

Shit.

Is that from the Outfit?

English, do me a favor.

Why don't you, go up front,

check on your secretary
for me, all right?

Will you excuse me, gentlemen.

It's the Outfit, man.

It's his brass ring right here.

Right, go ahead, open it up.
See what it says.

Any mail?

Do you want to talk about it?

The mail?

That they gave you the boot.

What's in the box?

That one's mine.

Let's have a look.

Okay.

No, no, let me guess.

The Leaning Tower of Pisa.

I've never understood
the appeal.

All it does is lean.

The Eiffel Tower?

I already have that.

Well, then I give up.

What is that?

I'll show you.

I feel at home again.

Isn't it beautiful?

It's a clock.

Unlike some of us,
I've never seen it in person.

In person, it's still a clock.

On the banks of the Thames.

- You've seen clocks in Chicago?
- Yes, of course, but...

They look startlingly similar
in London.

Okay.

I will never understand you.

Well, you will never be
a-a dashing gentleman

of a certain age.

You've been all over the world.

You could have a shop
anywhere you like.

And yet you're here.

What's wrong with here?

I can think of a few things.

Some things
one finds everywhere, dear.

So it doesn't terribly much
matter where I am.

I have me shears.

What else does a man need
besides his shears?

And I have you.

Not forever.

Yes.

Ben awaits.

One way or another...

I'm getting out of here.

To London?

To London.

And Madrid.

And Barcelona.

And Morocco.

And to Paris.

You know what'd make it
happen a lot sooner?

A map?

A raise. Please.

I best go see
if Master Richie needs me.

Speak of the devils.

What's that now?

Just an expression, sirs.

Excuse me.

I meant no offense.

See you tomorrow.

The horologist's apprentice
popped in yesterday.

He's awfully nice.

S... What'd he... who-who?

From down the street.

He's ever so handsome.

Are you... trying to get me
to go on a date

with the guy who works
at the watch shop?

He's an apprentice
to the horologist.

The one with
the little mustache?

Yes, like Errol Flynn.

I do not need you telling me
who to date.

I didn't mean it like that.

You meant it like, "I saw you
smiling at Richie Boyle earlier

"and now I'm petrified

that you're running
with a bad batch."

Those men may be customers,
but they are not gentlemen.

Could've fooled me in those
nice clothes you make for 'em.

If we only allowed angels
to be customers,

soon we'd have
no customers at all.

Do we let all of our customers
keep lockboxes in back?

It was you
who was smiling at him.

I've spent my entire life

around animals
like Richie Boyle.

You want to get him to back off,
you look him dead in the eyes

and you pretend
you're one of 'em.

You don't need me worrying
after you.

- That's right.
- You can take care of yourself.

You're not my...

- You know.
- I do.

My father was a shit,
so y-y-y...

Take that as a compliment.

I will.

I know...

that you hope that
I'll start loving this

- the way that you do.
- No. I don't.

- I don't.
- That I'll train...

learn the craft.

One day maybe even
take over the shop.

But I don't want that.
I don't want your life.

You're entitled to your own.

- I am.
- You're a smart young woman

who's going to take herself

- far away from here.
- I will.

And when I go, I just don't
want you to be all alone.

I don't need you
looking after me either.

After all,
you're not my, you know.

Fair enough.

Now, if you want that raise,

first you have to learn
what a bloody square looks like.

We gotta find the keys.

They were right here.

And... what did I do with them?

Hey. What's this book do,
by the way?

I always wondered what this was.

Richie.

Don't touch anything.

Hey.

- I just said don't touch anything.
- These are gorgeous.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

He likes things
the way that he likes them.

Okay.

What a fucking buster?

He cares about what he does,

and that's why
he's the best at it.

Yeah.

Like... somebody else I know.

What is that?
Are you fucking with me?

What?

I said, are you fucking with me?

- Like, are you making fun?
- No.

- No, Richie, baby.
- 'Cause I'm no goddamn joke.

I'm not making fun.
I'm not making fun.

Come here.

Baby, what's wrong?

- Did he do something?
- Did who do something?

Francis.
Did he do something again?

Fuck Francis.

- He ain't family.
- I know.

- He ain't even Irish.
- I know.

He thinks we got a rat.

- Okay.
- Yeah.

Somebody leaking
to the La Fontaines.

Who?

Doesn't fucking matter.

- He's paranoid. All right?
- All right.

And he's been telling my pops
for months.

My pops fucking listens, too.

"Hey, Francis,
you know, he's so smart.

You can really learn
a thing or two from that kid."

Baby, you're the number two.

Your pops listens to you.

Don't worry about Francis.

Who cares about Francis?

You think I don't know what
Francis did for my pops?

You think I haven't heard
about it

a thousand fucking times?

Six marbles. I fucking get it.

But that's only 'cause
I wasn't there.

'Cause if I had been there,

- that would've been me.
- Would've been you.

You know that, right?

Francis thinks he can
make moves with my pops,

my fucking pops,

without me.

Fuck was that?

I don't...

Shut up.

Okay. Sorry.

Geez.

I don't want to wake him up.

Hey.

- Looking for these?
- That's where...

You know what I like about you?

What?

You're going places.

Goddamn right I'm going places.

- Whoa.
- Out that door.

Whoa, whoa.

Step two is drawing.

And for some, this can be
the most purely enjoyable step.

You're only just exploring.

But I will caution you
to heed your patterns.

They're there for a reason.

This isn't art.

This is a craft.

We can talk about
shocking originality later.

The point now...

is skill.

Your patterns,
your proven forms,

they aren't your enemies.

They're the only friends
you have.

Shh!

- Motherfuckers!
- Quiet.

- Fucking dead!
- Quiet.

Yeah, back up, back up.

- What's going on?
- Is anybody else here?

Please, sirs,
I don't want any trouble.

Is anybody else here?

No, no, no, sir.

All right, back room.

Move, move, move. Come on.

Let's go.

We got ya. Don't worry.

Come on, English.

All right.

- All right.
- Shit, shit.

- All right, get the coat, get the coat. Come on.
- Shit.

Fuck!

Shit.

Come on, help me lift him.

Come on.

All right.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck. Shit.

Fuck.

- Fuck.
- Grab some of that fabric,

hold it, hold it up here
against the wound.

Fuck! Fucking hurts!

It hurts because there's a hole
in your stomach.

Do you remember why
there's a hole in your stomach?

There's a hole in your stomach
because back there,

when it was time for you
to pull the trigger, you froze.

- Fuck you.
- Yeah, fuck me later.

Right now, shut up.

English, I need you
to listen carefully.

There are a thousand
blue boys out there

hunting for this, and if they
find it, I start shooting.

You follow?
Making matters worse,

there are a thousand
racket boys out there

hunting for it, too,
and if they find it,

they start shooting.
You follow?

- I think he fucking gets it.
- Shut up.

Let me hear it.

There's, there's
a thousand people

looking for that briefcase.

It would be safest all around
if none of 'em get it.

Good man.

Keep the pressure on.

Fuck.

Are you calling my pops?

Hey, prick!

You fucking prick. Fuck.

Boss, the La Fontaines
jumped us.

The whole crew was waiting.

They knew when we were gonna be there...

- Fuck.
- They knew what we had with us,

they knew where we were.

What have I been saying
about a rat?

I told you.

Yeah, yeah.
No, no, we still have it.

No, Richie and I ran
to the safest place nearby.

Tailor's shop.

And, yeah, Richie took a marble.

Yeah, well, he, he's not
gonna be playing for the Cubs

anytime soon,
but he-he'll, he'll be okay.

I... He'll be okay.

You want to send the doc anyway?

Well, w-we, we can come.

Now?

All of La Fontaine's spots?
That's war.

Then I guess it's D-Day.

- Fuck he say?
- Listen to me, pal.

Nobody knows where the doc is.

Pops is gonna come
down here himself,

but it's gonna take a while.

What the f... fuck is a while?

- Take me home.
- Pops says wait here.

When you got marbles in your
belly, you can stay, all right?

- I'm-I'm leaving.
- Hey, hey.

I've had marbles in my belly,
remember?

Six shots. Fuck you!

You work for me, and I'm saying

take me the fuck home!

I work for your father,

and your father says
we stay put.

Motherfuck...

Fuck!

He needs a doctor.

You think?

- Fuck!
- Down here.

- Move, move!
- Shh!

You fucking prick.

- He's losing too much blood.
- Push harder.

The wound needs to be sealed.

Are you a doctor now, too?

- I was in the war.
- At your age?

The other war.

Let me see.

Yeah, the marble went through.

I've been in a war, too,
just not the overseas kind.

Yeah.

We have to stop this bleeding.
He needs a hospital.

Sew him up.

What?

You got a needle and thread
around here someplace.

- Not that kind.
- Sew him up.

I can't. I don't know how.

Sewing skin is not the same...

Sew him up.

If he's bleeding internally...

Fuck.

Shh.

Fuck.

Fuck.

What... the fuck is he doing?

He's fixing you up. Stay still.

No fucking way, he isn't.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

I think we should,
we-we can...

Go on, do it quick.

Come up with
a different plan, yeah?

Shh.

Actually, I think I'm good.

Hold him.

- Nuh.
- Fuck.

If I run away,
you can run after me,

catch me and murder me then.

- Keep your hands steady.
- Get the fuck...

fuck away from me, both of you.

Right, come on.

Pull him this way.

Fuck!

One more.

Fuck!

Fuck!

Get my, get my tweezers.

Scissors.

Cut that.

All right.

Turn him over.

Careful, careful.

Good boy.

Scissors.

He'll be okay.

Stay here with Richie,
wait for the boss.

You're leaving?

I'll be back.

Take Master Richie with you.

This is the safest place
right now.

Please, at least take
that-that thing with you.

Too many hard boys out there.

You-You've been loyal customers.

I depend upon you.

Not once, not once have I ever
asked about your business.

I don't, I don't judge.

I just don't want to be involved
in whatever it is you do.

English, you know exactly
what it is that we do.

No, sir, I-I actually
don't know anything.

I don't know what that is.

I don't know why all these
gentlemen are looking for it.

And if they come here,
I won't be able

to placate their suspicions.

I'm useless to you.
I'm a liability.

I... I only just want
to be left alone.

But you're not alone, English.

Like it or not,
now you're part of the family.

This is a tape from a bug.

Please, stop.

Some new gizmo
the Feds came up with.

Records sound, like a Victrola.

But you can hide it, 'cause
it's only the size of a...

You get it.

The Hoover boys planted
their bug in one of our spots.

But what they don't know

is that we have friends
in high places.

Friends who could do things like
smuggle us a copy of the tape.

But before I could listen to it,

La Fontaine's crew
rolls up on us.

See, we're making moves on them,
and if they get the tape,

then they'll know
how to hit back.

Everybody wants this thing.

So throw it away.

Somebody's been ratting us out
to La Fontaine.

Now, somebody...

helped the Feds get a bug on us.

If we can listen to this thing,

then we'll know
where it was planted. Boom.

If I can find a machine
to play this tape tonight,

the rat don't wake up tomorrow.

Your friend, Mr. Boyle,
will be here in three hours.

Nobody but me or the big man
touches this.

- What if the police come?
- Get rid of 'em.

What if these
other gentlemen come?

Get rid of 'em!

'Cause if I get back

and that tape isn't
sitting right there...

Welcome to the family.

Master Richie.

How are you feeling?

Fuck you.
How you think I'm feeling?

Unwell.

Listen...

English, I want to thank you.

You saved my life, so...

I don't know that I did, sir.

No, no, no.

Came to you in a bad moment.

You were a stand-up guy.

Water?

Sure.

Yeah.

Where's Francis?

He, he said he had to find a way

to play your tape.

What do you mean, he left?

Something about how playing
the tape would tell him,

who the rat is.

That's what you call it,
isn't it?

A rat?

Francis told you that?

He's just not usually
the type to get blabby.

Well, it sounds like
it's been a long night.

- For us all.
- Yeah.

S-Slowly with that.

I got it.

Who would do such a thing
to your family?

After everything your father's
done for this neighborhood.

My pops is
this fucking neighborhood.

Indeed.

When I first came to Chicago,

all I had to me name
was a set of shears.

Your father, did you know
he was my very first customer?

Very first.

Yeah, I remember that.

- Do you?
- Yeah.

Pops was excited.

He...

came home one day
saying, you know,

"There's a new tailor in town."

- Did he?
- Yeah, "Right from England."

It was a very warm welcome,
I tell you.

Yeah.

Much appreciated.

Pops loves all that
fancy stuff, you know.

He does. He's got good taste.

You know that he...
he taught me how to tie a tie

for the first time
when I was four.

No.

Four?

What was he always saying?...

"A well-tied tie is the,

first serious step
in life, kid."

Some shit like that.

- Wilde.
- Fucking crazy, right?

No, that's a quote.

Oscar Wilde.

Yeah, I don't know him.

But see, that's probably why
my pops likes you, though.

You know, he's into all that
quoting fancy people shit.

So, who do you think it is?

Who do I think is who?

This Judas
who's betrayed your family.

I don't know.

I'll wager
a clever young man like yourself

must have some suspicions.

Someone close to the family,
perhaps, but, but not family.

I have something I need
to tell you, Master Richie.

Okay.

I feel terrible.

I-I never imagined

things would get
so out of control.

That anyone would be harmed,
much less yourself,

or... or, God forbid,
your father.

But...

The fuck are you
talking about, English?

I... I have to tell...

I have to tell you...

Spit it out.

I'm the rat.

I've been selling information
to your enemies.

And I let the Federal Bureau
of Investigation

plant their bug... here.

Holy shit, you had me.

You fucking had me.

I almost fucking shot you.

I felt it.

I made you laugh.

It's a hell of a thing
to joke about.

Well, it's the best medicine,
you know.

It is.

Can you imagine?

You... the rat?

Wait a minute.

What do you mean by that?

What do you mean,
what do I mean?

You couldn't be the rat.

I absolutely could be the rat.

- Not a chance.
- Why not?

Why? 'Cause look at you.

What about me?

Nah.

You're just a fucking tailor.

I'm not a tailor.

I'm a cutter.

- Sorry.
- A tailor sews on buttons

and hems trousers.

Anyone with a needle and thread
and 15 minutes can be a tailor.

I studied for decades
to be a cutter.

I used to cut on the Row.

- Fuck is "the Row"?
- Savile Row.

Where's that, North Addison?

It's in London.

A quarter of a mile in which

the greatest craftsmen
in the world

all ply their trade.

I apprenticed there for years
before they allowed me...

to open my own shop.

- Why'd you come here, then?
- The war.

What, Krauts bomb your place?

Worse.
They're called blue jeans.

After the war,

things were quite poor
in England.

Not a lot of men
could afford well-made things,

so these blue jeans
became all the rage.

Well, times change, pal.

Blue jeans are the fashion now.

This James Dean of yours
makes one picture

and blue jeans are the fashion.

Soon he'll make another,

something else
will become popular.

These fashionable things,
they don't last.

The things I make,

like that suit of yours...

it's timeless.

So you thought that a bunch
of fancy-pants in England

couldn't appreciate
the finer things,

so you came to Chicago?

Wow. You must fucking
love Red Hots.

I came to a place
that isn't weighed down...

with bitter history.

And, yes,

Red Hots are delicious.

I do hope
your cousin's all right.

My cousin?

- How is he?
- Awake.

But...

Francis ain't my goddamn cousin.

He's not?

But what?

What's the matter with him?

Come on, spit it out.

My pops can see the
mangiest mutt on the street,

and if he's got teeth
sharp enough,

he'll be eating with us
at the dinner table.

He's lost a lot of blood.

He's probably light in the head.

Where did Francis say
he was going exactly?

No, you can't think
he has anything to do with this.

It's not my place to speak ill
of Master Richie,

but he keeps going on about
this rat you mentioned.

What about the rat?

He said before, he was the one
looking for the rat.

Why would he place himself
in charge of looking for the rat

if he was the rat himself?

So he told you all that,

but he didn't tell you
where he was going?

"I know who the rat is,"
he says.

"Francis thinks
he can pull one over on me."

- Who, me?
- Well.

He keeps fiddling
with your briefcase.

- What did he do to the case?
- Nothing.

He left the case in there.

If I was the rat...

and try as I might,
I can't seem to convince you

that I am...

well, I'd want to burn
that thing straightaway.

So, you see, you've nothing to
fear from your friend Francis.

He's family.

Well, almost.

I haven't left him.

Till now.

English, get the door.

Richie.

How you feeling?

I'm just peachy, yeah.

How you feeling?

I didn't get shot
in the stomach earlier,

so, you know, not bad.

Lucky, isn't it?

All those bullets flying around,
but the La Fontaines,

they didn't land
a single one on you?

Not luck, Richie. It's...

it's skill.

I guess I was too slow.

So where you been?

Made some calls.

I checked in with a hi-fi shop,
owes us a favor.

They got a machine
that can play the tape.

I'm, I'm gonna go over
with it this minute.

So you want to take the tape?

Yeah. Pronto.

- Why don't I go with you.
- No, no.

You're in no shape
to be out there.

So you want to walk out of here
with this tape alone?

- Is that right?
- That's right.

I'll tell you what.

Just wait for my pops
to get here, you know?

Then we can all listen
to the tape together.

We don't have time.

- What's the big rush?
- Every second the rat is alive

is another second
that your father is in danger.

Gentlemen.

If I know your father,
Master Richie,

your father would want you both
to take a deep breath.

Now... glad you said that.

My father.

My father, Francis.

It's my father
who's in danger, not yours.

I love your father
like he was my own

and I'm trying to help him.

See, wasn't your father

selling fucking tomatoes
down on State Street

before he died from a lifetime
of being nothing to nobody?

So maybe me and my pops
don't need your fucking help.

You ever think of that?

I'm gonna need that tape, pal,
right now.

Why don't you try and take it.

Not tonight.
Now give me the tape.

Really, Francis,
I mean, what's the,

what's the rush?

I mean, really, my pops
will be here any minute.

Unless you don't want my pops
listening to this tape.

What are you talking about?

Why don't you want my pops
listening to this tape, Francis?

I said, give me
the fucking tape.

Now who's too fucking slow?

Richie.

Richie, for your own good,
for the good of your father,

I'm gonna take that tape now
and I'm gonna leave.

If you touch me again...

I'll break your fucking arm,
you understand?

You're such a fucking prick,
you know that?

Think you're so fucking smart.

Careful.

- Smarter than everyone.
- Careful, Master Richie.

Careful.

You fucking...

Where's the tape, Francis?

You must be out of your mind
to point that gun at me.

- Gentlemen.
- Stop playing games, Richie.

Where'd you put the tape?

- What was your plan?
- Did you hide it to try

and trick me
into confessing something?

'Cause that is somehow

the dumbest thing
you've done all day.

Always wanted to be
the big man, didn't you?

No selling tomatoes for you.
No, no, no.

You don't want to work
for my pops.

You want to fucking be him.

I owe everything to that man.

Well, guess what.

As long as me and him
are around,

you ain't never gonna be
number one.

There's no need
for this fighting.

You slimy fuck,
I had you pegged from day one.

You know that?

From the second I first
laid eyes on you, I said,

"Who the fuck
is this son of a bitch?"

He ain't family.

No, I'm the guy
who took six marbles

to save your father's life
because family wasn't there.

Yeah, fuck you!

- I run this crew.
- No, your pops runs this crew.

And I spend half of every day
cleaning up your messes.

You want to see me make a mess?

Damn it, Richie.
Why'd you make me do that?

These are the last words
you're gonna hear,

so I hope you remember them
in hell.

You didn't die
because you're dumb,

because you're arrogant
or because you're slow.

It was because you're weak.

You killed him.

You really pay attention,
don't you?

- Where did Richie put the tape?
- I've no idea.

Maybe you could explain
what happened.

To God Almighty?

No, to Mr. Boyle.

There's a difference?

He had to hide it
in here somewhere.

You brought a man
in here injured.

Perhaps he didn't survive
his wounds.

He's missing
half his goddamned head.

On the phone,
I told his father he'd be fine.

When a mistake has been made...

I've always found it best
to simply be up-front about it.

English, I didn't cut
the boss's pants too short.

I shot his son in the face.

Shit.

That's the man's Caddy.

- Let's explain...
- Open the trunk.

- What?
- Open the trunk and-and grab his arms.

What you gonna do with him?

Grab his goddamned arms
or else I'm hiding two bodies.

Go. Get the door.

Take your sweet time
bringing him back here.

I need to clean this up.

I don't know anything
about lying.

Subterfuge.

You don't know
how to say one thing

when you mean something else?

I thought you were English.

Well, aren't you
a sight for sore eyes.

You're in one piece?

I'm not gonna forget
what you're doing for my crew,

my family, tonight.

I'm at your service, sir.

Where are the boys?

Are we quite
all in one piece, sir?

It's not mine.

We had to make
a few stops on the way.

Where are the boys?

Boss.

You all right?

You must have made it
through some hell.

Hey, nothing I haven't
seen before.

First you save my life
and then you save my son's.

One of these days, I'll have
to find a way to repay you.

Hey, y-you been
to see La Fontaine?

Got a few hard boys
still out there

leaving calling cards.

The numbers game
at the Green Dragon?

There ain't no more numbers game

at the Green Dragon.

Now it's a nice warm bonfire.

Couple of Chicago's bravest

running around
with squirt pistols.

- Glad you're keeping them busy.
- Where's Richie?

I... I thought
he was with you.

- Why would he be with me?
- Well, he...

he-he went out to find you.

Find me? Why?

Hey, you know how Richie is.

You let my son walk out of here
with a marble in his gut?

Let him?

You know, Richie does
what Richie does, right?

That's why you're there
to protect him.

Well, he was doing okay.
E-English here patched him up.

Tell the boss what you did.

I did, I did what I could.

And then Richie just
strolled out of here?

Well, you... yeah,
he walked on two feet

and, yeah, he left.

Okay. Grab the tape
and let's go find him.

Richie took it with.

I'm sorry,
I think I misheard you.

Well, he said he was gonna
bring you the tape.

He told me to stay here.

You didn't think maybe
you should've gone with him?

It's Richie, boss.

He...

Right? The man has
something to prove,

and I figured the best thing
in this situation

was to stay right here
in, in case you turned up.

You figured wrong.

Where exactly did he go?

Well, he didn't give me
an itinerary.

Phone?

It's Roy. Is Richie there?

Well, then go check. Now.

You're positive?
He hasn't been there all night?

Well, check with our
North Side friends. I'll wait.

Damn it.

All right. I'm at the tailor's.

I want you to call me back here
every 15 minutes with an update.

You understand?

Every quarter hour.

Everything good, boss?

Not a single thing is good.

My boy is missing,
the tape is missing,

and there are more blue boys
on those streets

than at
the St. Paddy's Day Parade.

- Let's go find him, like you said.
- Where?

Everywhere.

Hey, I don't like him being
out there any more than you do.

And, English here's done enough.

We should...
we should let him head home.

Yeah, all right.

But just you.

If Richie shows up
at any of our spots,

they'll call here,
so I'm staying here.

Boss, if I go alone...

You got a problem, Francis?

No. No problem.

You stay here and I'll...
I'll go find Richie.

Francis.

Bring my boy back to me.

It's gonna be a long night.

They usually are, sir.

Some years ago,

a customer comes into my shop
with a suit,

not one of mine.

The customer says,
"The jacket, it's too big."

It is.

"The problem," I say,
"is the shoulders."

But the customer says,
no, he likes the shoulders.

The problem is the sleeves.

We go back and forth.

Finally, the customer says,
"It's my money,

and I'm telling you,
cut the sleeves."

So what do I do?

I say, "Yes, sir,"
and then I cut the shoulders.

The customer, he comes back,
tries on his suit.

"It's perfect," he says.

"That's exactly
what I asked for."

You learn how to do all this
on the Row?

Yes, sir.

You get these on the Row, too?

My apologies.

I trained on these shears.

Every cut I've made,
I made with these shears.

They're all I brought with me
when I came to Chicago.

- Please.
- No, no, no, no.

No, please. Please.

You never told me
why you left England.

It was under attack.

Nazis?

Worse.

They're called blue jeans.

I know what it's like

to try to make something
of yourself.

Yes.

Just you and your trusted tools.

For example...

I use this thing here to kill.

I don't even know
how many people.

All right.

You got your tools, I got mine.
Here.

Take a look.

I read something once

about how the thing
that separates

man from monkeys is tools.

Do you believe all that?

Evolution?

I don't know.

But I do know that a man
has a choice in this world

about how he uses his tools.

He can destroy or he can build.

And you think I destroy.

But, no, with this,
I've built loyalty.

I have built a crew.
I've built a neighborhood.

And the men I've had to kill...

well, you have to toss away
a few scraps, don't you,

when you're cutting
a pair of pants?

Have you ever heard of
the Outfit?

Well, I make clothes, so...

N-not that kind of outfit.

It's an organization.

What, like the Rotary Club?

Maybe you've heard of Al Capone?

Him I've heard of.

Yeah. He started it.

- The Rotary Club?
- The Outfit.

Al Capone's dead, isn't he?

After he died,

his organization spread out,
became more of a network.

Every big-time crew from
Santa Monica to Coney Island,

Italians in the East,
Jews in the West,

Poles in St. Louis...

even a few sons of Killarney
here and there.

The underworld United Nations.

Anybody messes with anybody,
the Outfit has your back.

It's like a stamp.

- "You have arrived."
- And have you arrived?

Almost.

They've been
sending us messages,

saying they like our style.

They're considering us,

if we can finish
what we started.

And what have you started?

Putting every one of
the La Fontaines in the dirt.

See, the La Fontaines
aren't builders.

That family has been running

the same numbers racket
for decades.

Their neighborhood, their rules.

Nobody ever had the balls
to move in on their operation.

Until me.

This tape
everyone's looking for,

Francis said that
some powerful friends

got you a copy.

The Outfit, they those friends?

Yeah, so you understand.

That tape gets into
the wrong hands,

then the entire thing
comes crashing down.

Mr. Boyle, why are you
telling me all this?

Because that's Richie's coat.

Is it?

It is.

Well, I suppose he must have
left without it.

In December?

He was in a bit of a hurry.

December in Chicago,
and he went out without a coat?

You're hiding something,
my friend.

And I'm trying
to help you understand

that even if I never find out
what it is, the Outfit will.

So you want
to get clear of this,

you need to tell me what really
happened in here tonight.

Now.

Mr. Boyle,
I'm telling you the truth.

Monk!

Who walks out into the cold,

in December, in Chicago,
without his coat?

I ain't good at riddles.

English, where's my goddamn son?

You got five seconds...

to tell me what happened.

Five, four...

- three...
- He made me promise not to tell.

Who? Who made you promise?

He said he'd kill me
if I told you.

Who?

Francis.

Mr. Boyle,
what really happened to Richie

is that Francis shot...

Whoa.

Full house tonight?

Mable.

We got some questions
about Richie?

Realized I know somebody
who might have some answers.

Francis, English was
just about to tell me

what really happened to Richie.

English said you shot somebody.

Yeah?

Hey, don't look at her,

don't look at him,
you look at me.

If you tell me the truth,

there isn't a gun in this town
can hurt you.

You are protected from him,
you're protected from him.

You will be warmed
from the elements.

But you gotta tell me the truth.

What did Francis do?

Francis shot...

Francis shot...

four of La Fontaine's men

earlier this evening.

But Richie,
he didn't shoot a single one.

He said he was embarrassed.

Ashamed.

He said he had to go and...

go and kill someone.

Kill who?

La Fontaine.

Richie made us promise
not to tell you.

He knew what he was doing
was dangerous.

I suppose he didn't want you
to stop him.

You made Richie a promise,
English.

- We both did.
- Yes, we did.

I'm sorry, Mr. Boyle.

So...

where's Richie now?

- You're the receptionist?
- Yes.

After Richie left,
on the way to kill La Fontaine,

I think he stopped by her place.

No, he didn't.

Why would he stop by
the receptionist's place?

- Because she's Richie's girl.
- I'm not Richie's girl.

- The hell you're not.
- I'm not. - You're not?

- I'm not.
- Yeah, she is.

Richie likes to brag.

Mr. Boyle,
all I know about tonight

is that, at 2:00 in the morning,

this ham-handed jerk
knocks on my door,

tells me I gotta come with him,
and when I demur, he s...

When I come into her place,

there's a bloodstain
on the carpet.

What?

That's not true. That's a lie.

Stop! Stop!

Come.

You live close?

Down the street.

Lived on this block
my whole life.

- What's your name?
- Mable.

Sean.

Shit.

Your dad was Ryan Sean.

That's what they tell me.

Did some work for me
once upon a time.

He's a real tough guy, your dad.

Was he? I wouldn't know.
He wasn't really around much.

I was sorry about...

well, what happened to him.

Thank you.

Neighborhood's funny that way.

Bad thing happens to a guy,
everyone is so sorry, but...

nobody saw a thing.

It was a long time ago.

And this business, well...

sometimes bad things happen.

Mable Sean, where's my son?

Like I said,
I don't have the foggiest.

Monk, get the coat.

Mr. Boyle, may I?

- You recognize this coat?
- Yeah.

That's Richie's coat.

And if Richie was to take off

in the middle of December,
with a marble in his belly,

then Richie, who,
let's all be honest,

is not known for his planning,

was probably intending
on stopping somewhere close.

Maybe he was just going
down the street to her place.

And you said
you ain't good at riddles.

When was the last time
you saw my son?

Here. Earlier today.

Boss, some bastard
has been ratting on us,

- right?
- Right.

What if that
rat bastard is a girl?

She could have overheard
information from Richie.

Pillow talk and the like.

If he shows up at her place

carrying the very thing
that puts the finger on her,

I'm, I'm just saying.

We don't know
who she's been ratting to

or, if he might have been
there when Richie showed up.

But you don't have to be
Joe Friday

to put it all together.

Mr. Boyle.

I've known Mable...

I've known Mable for years.

I'm willing to bet my life
she has nothing to do with this.

I'll take that bet.

Let's get the lady talking.

Fuck.

No, no.

What is wrong with...?

- No!
- Where's Richie?

I don't know.

Richie was right about you.
You're not a man at all.

So you and Richie
did do a little talking.

Back up, English.

This ain't your purview.

Yeah, all right,
all right, all right.

Francis, take her
to the back room.

Go.

Mr. Boyle, please.

- I'm sorry.
- Move.

- I am.
- Sit her down.

We'll clean up after.

I-I'm telling you the truth.

All right, the last time
that I saw Richie,

I was...
I-I was inside this shop.

I was closing up for the night.

Hey!

Where you think you're going?

Nobody's going anywhere
until we find my boy.

Mr. Boyle, sir, I-I...

I... I can't. I'm sorry.

- I'll send you away right now.
- Settle.

I know you have to do
wh-what you have to do

to find your son.

I understand how you feel.

You understand how I feel?

I had a daughter.

I didn't, I didn't come
to Chicago

because of...

blue jeans.

There was a fire in my shop.

I-I didn't, I didn't even
notice it at first,

I was so busy working.

The fabrics lit up.

Everything...

burned so fast.

My wife and my little girl,
they lived upstairs.

I heard them.

The shears,
they was a gift from my wife.

So, you understand.

Boss, you don't have
to listen to...

Quiet.

Mr. Boyle...

you can hurt young Mable,
you can hurt me,

you can kill any one of us
with a snap of your fingers...

but it won't find your child...

no matter how much
you want it...

Go get it.

Hello?

Really?

We've all been
tremendously worried.

20 minutes?

Fantastic.

Yes, yes, of course, I will.

All right.

Thank you.

What was that?

That was Richie.

He said he's in hiding
from the La Fontaines,

but he has the tape

and he wants you to go
pick him up.

31st and Halsted.

20 minutes.

Before I-I could get
any more details...

he was gone.

Let's go.

We'll swing by the house

and pick up whoever's there
to come with us.

Hey, may-maybe we should
just take a minute.

My son is waiting.

For what are we gonna take
a goddamn minute?

Let's get to it.

Boss?

Maybe I should wait back.
Keep an eye on them?

I need all the firepower I got.

You really want to
trust Richie's life to the hope

that tonight doesn't have
any more twists in store?

If the devil himself
came crashing through the roof,

I wouldn't be shocked right now.

All right.

All right.
Belts and suspenders.

Make sure they don't go nowhere.

You want to tell me
who the fuck you just talked to

on that phone?

That was one of Mr. Boyle's men

calling to say
he'd yet to hear from Richie.

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

Either I kill her now

and we pin tonight
on her corpse...

or I kill both of you
and do it all myself.

It's, it's your choice.

You need her assistance.

With what do I need
her assistance?

Roy Boyle is about to walk
directly into an ambush.

- Who's ambushing him?
- The La Fontaines.

And how exactly
are the La Fontaines

gonna know where to ambush him?

Because Mable's
about to tell them.

- Me?
- Yes, you.

- Why me?
- Because you're the rat.

You've been sleeping
with Richie Boyle.

You kept hearing him talk about

his father's escalating war
with the La Fontaines

and you saw your chance.

You sold information
to La Fontaine

so that you could finally
get out of Chicago.

But Francis...
Francis is paranoid.

Sooner or later, you thought
he would have found you out.

So you helped the FBI
to plant a bug.

If the FBI could take down
the Boyle crew,

you could get away clean.

But you didn't plan
for one thing:

The Outfit.

They told the Boyles
about the bug.

Richie told you.

What could you do?

You told La Fontaine.

And hoped that they would
all kill each other...

before they found you.

You got your hustle.
I got mine.

You were, you were
the fucking rat?

I've spent my entire life

watching you leeches
suck this neighborhood dry.

I am gonna love...

sitting in a café in Paris,

reading all about your funeral.

You stole the tape?

No. That was me.

You knew what I was doing,

and instead of stopping me,
you helped.

- Yes.
- Fuck you.

I can take care of myself.

If she doesn't call
the La Fontaines in the next...

two minutes, I'd say,

Roy Boyle will return,
having failed to find his son.

Eventually,
he'll discover Richie,

and then he'll kill all of us.

Or Mable can tell
the La Fontaines

where to ambush him
and offer to sell them the tape.

Now tell me,

if Roy Boyle and all his
senior lieutenants die tonight,

who will be in charge
of his organization?

I took six bullets for that man.

And how many has he taken
for you?

He made me everything
that I am today.

And today is the day
that you don't need him anymore.

You think I'm just gonna
betray Roy Boyle that easy?

No, I don't think it's easy.

I think option A is: we all die.

And option B is:

you run the Boyle organization.

Make the goddamn call.

I'm not here.

Bonsoir.

Stetson.

Stetson.

Yes...

Roy Boyle...

Halsted.

La Fontaine...

La Fontaine wants
to make a deal.

Tape for cash. One hour.

I didn't know you spoke French.

Francis,

the number of things about me
that you don't know...

So what the fuck
really happened to Richie?

That's La Fontaine.

I'm gonna hide in the back.

As soon as you peep the green,
you toss me a signal.

"Count's right." And then...

This is a stupid fucking idea.

You don't toss me a signal,

I'm gonna come out firing
indiscriminate-like.

When La Fontaine dies tonight,
I'm not only leading our crew,

I'm leading them
into the Outfit.

It's the least I could do.
For Roy.

He's gonna kill us, too.

Bonsoir.

You're open late.

We work by appointment.

This is Mr. Burling.

I didn't know this city
had any tailors so classy.

Thank you.

You know how to make clothes
for a lady?

I haven't a clue.

Désolé.

I might have an inkling.

I'm guessing it's been
quite an evening for you folks.

Hazard of the trade, madame.

Which one of you has my tape?

Money first.

Please.

Looks like...

Madame La Fontaine,

are you trying to rob us?

Where's the money?

We're not showing you the tape
until we see the money.

Tape first.

How do I know what's on it?
I've gotta listen.

Well, it seems like

you're just gonna
have to trust us.

Ou, peut-être,

we may be able
to trust each other.

Okay.

Let's make a deal.

You give me the green,
I'll walk away.

We all live to kill each other
some other time.

You know what makes me mad?

I've been running numbers
in this city my whole life.

But nobody said a thing.

Cops, racket boys,
nobody even noticed.

Until the second
we started making real money.

Mon Dieu, this fucking city.

Since day one, people like me,
people like our English friend,

we come here and we make
something of ourselves.

And then right as soon
as we get big enough,

you connards show up

with your hair slicked back,

shoes all shiny,

and you snatch it away.

Like a spoiled child
who'd rather break his own toys

than watch somebody else
play with them.

So I will admit to a...

satisfaction earlier

at 31st and Halsted

when I put a gun
to Roy Boyle's head

and watched him die
as he'd lived.

Sorry he ever met me.

Madame,

you have nothing to fear
from this man.

Why is that?

Because earlier this evening,

I removed all the bullets
from his gun.

Any other killers in here
I should know about?

Only you.

A tailor.

Always listening, never talking.

But nobody stop to think:
"What's going on in his head?"

I'm not a tailor, ma'am.

I'm a cutter.

Un coupeur.

Au revoir.

They'll find us out.

The Boyles are all dead.

The Outfit, then.

Why would the Outfit
come looking for us?

Because we took the tape
that everyone is loo...

To the naked eye,

a suit appears
to consist of two parts...

The tape.

A jacket and trousers.

It's just a fake.

But these two
seemingly solid parts

are composed of
four different fabrics.

The Outfit has never even
heard of Roy Boyle.

They didn't send those messages.

You did.

You've been planning this
for months.

Everything that happened.

You set it all up.

This contains everything
that went on here this evening.

Enough to convict
any remaining Boyles

of a dozen crimes

and Madame La Fontaine
of the murder of Roy Boyle.

You won't mind, will you,
popping it in the post

to your friend at the FBI?

On your way to...

Perhaps it's safest if...

I don't know.

But make it somewhere grand.

So what about you?

I've started over before.

It'll be easier the second time.

- Come with me.
- No.

No, come with me.

You can show me things
you've already seen.

You will not spend
your best years

taking care of my remaining few.

I was taking care of
myself just fine, you know.

Yes.

Knowing you, I'm quite confident
you'd have seen to the burials

of each and every one
of those murderers.

But then...

you'd no longer be pretending
to be one,

would you?

I wish I could have met her.

Your real...

you know.

She would have liked you.

Finishings, for me,
can be the hardest part.

Not because there's
any great skill involved

in these final steps...

putting on a few buttons,
closing up a few edges,

but because
if you've done your job,

all the true craftsmanship
has already occurred.

The finishings are
mere inevitabilities.

It's at the finishings

that you must come to terms
with the idea

that perfection
is a necessary goal...

precisely because
it is unattainable.

If you don't aim for perfection,
you cannot make anything great.

And yet, true perfection
is impossible.

No.

Stop.

So at the finish,

you must reconcile yourself...

to failure.

I was like you once.

I was.

Made my living with a gun.

A knife.

Sometimes...

just my bare hands.

I'd...

I'd a gift, they said.

But it wasn't magic.

It was work.

One day, they asked me to do
something I couldn't do.

So I ran. I hid.

I hid on the Row.

Picked up a trade,
learnt a craft, and met my wife.

Vera.

I fell in love.

We had little Lily.
I fell in love again.

But they found me.

They found me.

Set fire to my shop.

My home.

My life.

I came here to get away
from all that violence.

Get away from myself.

M-My first day here,
who did I meet?

I suppose I put, put on
these clothes

to convince myself
I'm civilized.

I want so bad to be good.

It's not perfect.

You have to make your peace
with that.

How?

Well...

you sit at your board,

you lay out your tools...

and you start again.