All language subtitles for Thick.As.Thieves.1999.720p.WEBRip.x264.AAC-[YTS.MX]

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[vehicle engine rumbling]

["Da Da Da" playing]

[bus brakes hissing]

[driver] You got 20 minutes.

Don't be late.

At 9:12, I'm gone.

["Da Da Da" continues]

[song ends]

[shrill yapping]

[footsteps]

The sign says closed, God dammit!

Mackin! What are you doing here?

I live here.

We were going to take three months off
until things cool down.

I said two months,
and it's been two months.

Did you? I thought you said three months.

So how are you doing, baby?
Did you miss me?

Yeah, it's just I thought
with all that money you'd be long gone.

The money's here, Anne.

Where?

Outside. It's been here the whole time.

It's been so long, baby.

So long.

-Been saving it for me?
-Oh, yeah.

The money.

Oh. Yeah.

You know what would be a great idea?

If one of us went out and got it.

If it's just sitting there, it would be
a shame to lose it after three months.

-Two months.
-Two months.

-I'd like to take a shower.
-Fantastic. That's a great idea.

You get cleaned up
and I'll run out and get the money for us.

That's a fabulous idea.

Let me tell you where it is.
You know that oil drum in the alley?

-The big, skanky brown one?
-The very one.

At the bottom of that oil drum
is a paint can, a one-gallon paint can.

And the money is in that paint can.

Paint can! Great!

Hurry up, before somebody sees you!

["Da Da Da" playing]

[groaning]

[yapping]

What?

[song continues]

Thanks a lot.

[hissing]

[dog whimpers]

[funky jazz playing]

[jazz instrumental continues]

[hammond organ solo]

[solo spirals to a climax]

[slinky guitar solo takes over]

[vibraphone solo]

[music fades]

[crackle]

[sweeping classical music]

[tinny muzak over PA]

[voice over PA]
I need a clean-up on aisle four.

[man] You're packed.

That's a good sign.

Just in case.

-How's it going?
-Good.

So what do you think?

-Think of what?
-This.

I think it's a grocery store, Frank.

I know. It's ours.

Huh. When did Chicago get
in the grocery business?

Long story.

A guy named Hookright.

Can you believe that? "Hook-right"?

He inherits this chain of grocery stores,
16 of them,

from his grandfather
or some bullshit like that.

Mr. Hookright is
what you could call a fuck-up,

with major appetites.

Gets in deep, comes to us
needing 140 large in a hurry,

and bada-fuckin'-bing,
we're in the grocery business.

It's a ball-breaker business, Mackin.

Grocery stores operate
on a margin so small,

you need a microscope
and a CP-fuckin'-A to see it.

This "affordable food for the masses" crap
is bleeding us to death.

I've grown to hate the American public.

See?

This is what I'm talking about.

Hold on a second.

Stop stealing those goddamn peanuts!

He drops them back in the bin after
he's had his grubby hands all over them.

So unsanitary.

So what do you need?

This guy in Detroit has a line
on a printing plant. Food stamps.

He says, a quarter-of-a-mill worth.

I never did food stamps before.

The reason you don't hear
about this kind of score every day

is that you can always sell food stamps
for 50% face on the street

and that's way too much exposure.

Only grocery stores
can turn them into money.

I'll need time to check it out,
get my guys together, go out there...

That's the bad part.

It has to go down this weekend.

It's Labor Day, the plant will be closed
for three days. The stamps are on site.

Tuesday morning, they'll be moved
to a state warehouse.

I don't like running
into these things half-assed, Frank.

-Help me out on this one, Mackin.
-I like to have control of the situation.

It's a printing plant, for Christ's sake.
A Cub Scout den could take it down.

They need you because the stamps are
in a building with a steel door

and you need a burning bar to pop it.

The guy doesn't have anyone
who can run a burning bar.

How does the money work?

You fly to Detroit today,

take a look, bust it over the weekend
and fly home.

Twenty grand, cash, on the spot.

Pure fluff. Found money.

Okay.

I'll go, I'll check it out,
but if I don't like it... I'm gone.

Thanks, Mackin.

Your plane leaves in an hour.

[tense music playing]

[electro beat playing]

The guard's gone.

Check the perimeter and meet me back here.

Yo. Clear.

You might want to stand back.

[fizzling]

Yo, man. Look at that shit.

[roaring]

[soft footsteps]

This is it.

Let's move 'em out.

[soul playing quietly over radio]

[fork scraping plate]

Yo, man, he's just Sugar Bear.
Don't pay him no mind.

So how did it go?

It went fine.

-[puts down keys]
-The merch is in the van.

The van is in the garage, locked.
I sent Danny and Little Benny home.

Now, Danny thought
that I was supposed to pay them.

But I told him
that you would take care of it.

Today.

Damn, man.

Danny got attitude.

He get ill with you?

I don't know what that means,
but judging from the context, no.

You, uh...

owe me some money.

It's all good. Pointy's got you covered.

[Pointy] Car's in the lot.

Red Toyota.

Keys under the mat.

It's been fun.

I'm out of here.

I'll leave the car
in the long-term parking at the airport.

You gonna eat them hash browns?

Oh, yeah...

Here, you can take your fork back.

[doo-wop playing]

[police siren blip]

[siren blips]

-[siren blips]
-Shit.

-[man on left] Open the door!
-[man on right] Open slowly. Hands up.

Lay face down in the street
with your arms wide. Move!

-Move those hands and you're dead.
-Eat some street, asshole!

[pistol cocking]

I'm gonna cuff you. Don't make this hard.

[man on right] Take it easy, pal.
You know the drill.

[cuffs fastening]

[rumble of thunder]

Check this out.

Pretty good, huh?

You want to tell me
what this is about, Officer?

First of all, you're driving a stolen car,
Mister, uh...

Moffit.

And you're carrying
a large amount of cash.

You are one suspicious character,
Mr. Moffit.

This isn't gonna check out
to be talcum powder.

And this... This is not good at all.

[Mackin] No Miranda...

No backup...

Somebody tipped you?

Pointy tipped you?

[sniggers]

[clicking]

-So, when are you gonna kill me?
-[man] Couple of minutes.

Please don't rush us.

-Shit, man, you made me lose count.
-See what you did?

-[gunshot echoes]
-[man] Fuck!

[yelling]

[loud shot]

[menacing music playing]

[sighs]

[doo-wop playing over radio]

[engine accelerating]

[accelerating continues]

[music cuts out]

[menacing music playing]

[ship's horn]

['70s cop soundtrack playing]

[heavy breathing]

[clunking]

[scrubbing]

-How about you, sir?
-Some coffee, please.

[siren wailing]

-Oh, thanks.
-No problem.

[camera shutter clicks]

Contact shots.

A real big gun, too.

Tighten up, Larry. We got work to do.

It says your dispatch had
no radio transmissions.

They were both scheduled off, yesterday

and today.

Alright, get me a flat-bed.
This whole car is going to the lab.

-Where's the coffee?
-Over there.

[funk playing]

[phone ringtone]

[relaxed conversation]

[man] I'm not trying to be greedy,
but where's the sweet potato pie?

I can't believe you got rid of the Beemer.
It had everything.

Tinted windows, Niche Bahn rims,

triple-thick paint job

and fire engine red, man!

I just get teary-eyed,
just thinking about this shit.

Man, I ain't with
that ghetto shit no more.

I'm on a smooth Renaissance tip.

What, a Volvo?
What kind of black man drives a Volvo?

A black man who appreciates safety.

Shit, this bad boy got side airbags, kid.

I get in an accident? It's all good.

Straighter than straight.

Your burger's ready, baby.

Ah.

We got any Dijon, Ma?

Dijon? We got yellow mustard, baby.

You have to suffer
with the rest of us common folk.

Dink, man, what you doing here?
You're interrupting my family time.

[Dink] Trouble.

The Thief killed the cops.

God damn!

Sorry, Mama.

Damn, Mackin,

I know your ass must be in hot water
if you're taking the bus.

Yeah.

-So? How hot are you?
-I'm alright, now.

Bo said you ran into some trouble.

I had to kill two cops.

[voice over PA] The shuttle to Chicago
O'Hare Airport will leave in 15 minutes.

Well, it looks like
the cops ran into the trouble.

So what have you got?

They were both dirty. We've been
investigating them for three months.

Cheapjack stuff, mostly.

We're gonna put it in front
of the Grand Jury next month.

So?

-What do you guys got?
-Checking out some leads.

Maybe a witness seeing a car
leave the scene. Nothing promising.

Two dead cops. You got a big one, Louise.

-When are you on?
-Fifteen minutes.

The print people have a deadline.

Alright, I'm gonna get some more coffee.
Want some?

No, I get my coffee on the outside.

You guys in Internal Affairs...
High-falutin' bunch!

You betcha!

[traffic noise]

[blues playing over PA]

[quiet conversation]

Welcome home.

Good to be home.

Where's my boy?

He's outside in the street, playing.

There he is.

He's shedding all over the place.

Hey! Let me look at you.

My God. Did you miss me?

Did you miss me, Wally?

Did he eat good?

As well as a 15-year-old dog can.
He's in bad shape.

Yeah, I figured. Did he take his pills?

Yeah, he hates them. He bit me.

I'm gonna take my boy home...

Brush his teeth... Bet you didn't
brush his teeth all weekend.

Right!
I didn't brush my teeth all weekend.

[growling softly]

[whimpering]

Hey.

I thought you liked this kind. This is...

"Poultry flavor."

Huh?

[crackle]

[lively jazz playing]

[woman singing scat over beat]

[choir joins in with scat singing]

[song ends]

[Dink] We can't do shit with those stamps.

And the Italians sure as shit
don't want 'em now.

[Pointy] Shit.

[golf machine] Player on Ball Seven.

Two-fifty in stamps, gone!

Fuck it.

Lose 'em, Dink.

If I catch that fucking Thief,

I'm gonna shoot him up
250,000 goddamn times.

[golf machine] Player on Ball Eight.

I don't get why you did it, Pointy.

-Did what?
-Tried to shake down the Thief.

He goes home pissed off, calls Riles,

we got the fuckin' Italians
all over our ass.

No percentage for us.

He wasn't supposed to go home, Dink.

I figured it was a good way

to pay off the cops
without it coming out of my butt.

Twenty grand, though?

Don't seem like much, for all the bullshit
we got to deal with, now.

Thank you for the 20-20 hindsight.

Check it.

Two cops, with guns...

should have been able
to take out one goddamn Thief.

Fools went to the police academy and shit.

They should know
how to operate a goddamn firearm.

I had some logic to this shit, Dink.

Stop second-guessing my ass.

Well, the cops be crying
over Kendall and McNamara.

You ought to get out of town
for a while, let that shit die down.

Plus, I need to make arrangements
with the Italians on this.

[golf machine] Game over.

It's gonna cost us.

Set it up.

I'll take Cassandra to Miami
for a week or two.

You'll be alright?

Yeah, I'll handle it.

[whimpering]

Is there something else you can give him?
There must be something you can do.

I can give him painkillers,

but I can't keep
giving 'em to him forever.

I think it might be time to think
about what we talked about, earlier.

-No. I'm not ready, yet.
-I know.

But it's him you have to think about,
and it's not going to get any easier.

I'm not going to let him suffer.

I just need to work this whole thing out.

I understand.

-You got a phone I could use?
-Sure. It's right behind you.

Local?

Yeah.

Take your time.

[pressing keys]

[ringing tone]

-Riles.
-Mackin.

I had no idea. I thought Williams
was a straight-up guy.

If you want,
he'll be dead tomorrow morning.

I'll take care of him. Something I'd like
to deal with personally.

Yeah, how?

I've got to go back and see Pointy.
Try to work this thing out.

I will need information. If you could
help with that I'd appreciate it.

Whatever you need, let me know.

Good.

[Dink] Just lay low, right?
Wait for this cop thing to cool out. OK?

[man] Alright.

[Dink] This is a pain
in my narrow black ass.

[Sugar Bear] Pointy will be
on the beach, too,

chilling with that fine-ass bitch.

Man, I think she got some Indian in her.

Like Cherokee or Sasquatch,
or some shit like that.

[siren blips]

Want to talk to you downtown, Reeves.

Where's your warrant at?

Behind that preposition.

-What?
-Learn some grammar.

You can't end a sentence
with a preposition.

Oh.

Then...

Where's your warrant at, motherfucker?

Want me to get out of this car?

'Cause I will get out of this car,
take my stick,

and wear your ass out.

It's not a problem, Officer.

No problem.

I'm not saying a word
until my lawyer gets here.

[Petrone] He's on his way.

[sighs]

We got a little problem here, Dink.

We know Kendall and McNamara
were working for you.

Now they're dead.

We thought, maybe you could help us out.

-Hello, Louise.
-Hi, Ralph.

Detective Tenesco.

What seems to be the problem here?

Your client had a relationship

with the two detectives
killed this weekend.

-We're hoping he can help us out.
-I see.

We just want to talk, Ralph.

My client assures me
that he has absolutely no knowledge

about the death of the two detectives.

In the absence of any charges,

we'll be leaving.

Thanks for your help, Ralph.

-No problem, Louise.
-[Tenesco] See you, Dink.

Why don't you hire somebody to help you,
Sal? You'll hurt your back.

I couldn't hire somebody
to help me hook up a VCR, honey!

Anybody should be able to do this.

-Well, let Frank help you.
-Yeah, let me help.

-Here, let me see that.
-Oh, that goes into the left channel.

This is all for the surround sound.

That one goes to the antenna.

There's a problem, Sal.

-Need the owner's manual?
-No.

The food stamps score.

Apparently, Williams tried to rip off
the Thief and it all went to hell.

Now they're blaming each other.

Williams is greedy, Francis.

Greedy people make mistakes.

-[TV audio turns on]
-Hold it! Hold it there.

There's a video of little Sal,

practicing his T-ball game.

Gonna have that in stereo, now.

Right. Here's what you do.

Give the Thief what he wants.

We owe him that
because he has been our friend.

Then you call Mr. Pointy Williams,

and ask him to make a gesture to us,

because of the stamps.

Not the whole thing, of course.
Just a token.

For our pride.

Finish up, Ray. We're through.

Here!

Here's my favorite part!

Hit him right in the balls!

[Sal chuckles]

-Hey, Ray, take a look at this.
-How do you put that on hold?

[man yells in pain]

It's very funny.

[man] So, this is it.
The absolute best we have available.

Brochure says there's a babbling brook.
I don't hear any...

babbling.

It hasn't rained in a while.

After rain... it babbles.

Is it quiet, here?

The highway is far enough away, so...

You can't even hear it.

As you can see, it's...

It's beautiful here.

We like to think of ourselves as...

the absolute best pet cemetery
in the mid-west.

We'll go toe-to-toe with human cemeteries
in terms of location.

Maybe this is the place.

[barks]

See? I think that was a yes.

I think that was a bark.

I'm not so far gone
I think my dog speaks English.

Okay.

We'll take it.

[Wally whines]

We'll take it.

[samba beat playing]

Hurry up, Pointy. Damn!

I'm bored.

If I'd known I'd spend my trip
on a golf course,

I would have kept my ass
at home.

-Calm down.
-Mr. Williams!

The food's ready, anyway.

Agh!

Buenos dias.

Fresh from our restaurant.

-Would you like to charge it to your room?
-Yes, yes.

Smells good.

I own a French restaurant, you know.

The best French restaurant in Motown,
straight up.

I can tell from your choice of dishes
that you have very fine taste.

Well, my good man,

if you are ever in Detroit,

come by Vingt-et-Un.

Ask for Pointy.

Thank you, sir.

Lord, please bless this food.

Thank you for the nourishment of--

What the fuck are you doing?

Don't snort that shit
while I'm saying my praises to the Lord.

You want us both to go straight to hell?

For what?
What commandments am I violating?

I'll tell you what commandment.

"Thou shalt stop acting
like a blaspheming bitch."

God damn! No home training.

-Shit...
-[keypad beeping]

Take the bitch out the ghetto, but...
You can't take the bitch out the ghetto!

Yo, what's up, Dink? It's me.

You called Hot Sauce?

Yeah, I know I'm supposed to lay low,
but look,

I've been working on this for six months

and the deal's got to go down now.

[knocking on table]

It's some high grade Peruvian shit, man.

[sniffing]

Wholesale prices, baby.

The samples alone have been
wearing me and Cassandra out.

Just...

Yo, just handle it.

What, I got to do everything?

Cash is in the safe.

[beep]

You are so country.

['70s funk playing]

Man, this shit is ridiculous.

A nigga who offers to sell you
four kilos for the price of three

is probably not a good nigga.

Who we meeting with, again?

[Dink] Some silly motherfucker
named Hot Sauce.

[laughs] See what I'm saying?

How you gonna do serious business
with some project nigga

who calls himself Hot Sauce?

Sugar Bear?

[sighs]

[Dink] Danny, get out
and go round the back.

[dripping water]

[soft footsteps]

-What the fuck!
-What the fuck?

-So what's this all about?
-Where's the cash?

You ain't crazy enough to think you can
fuck with Pointy Williams and survive?

Just give us the shit,
we'll give you the cash.

Where's Pointy? Where the fuck is Pointy?

Pointy Williams don't handle
bullshit like this himself.

He's trying to figure out how many pieces

to leave your momma in
if you try to fuck with him on this.

So...

-Where's the coke?
-Coke's in your fucking mind, bitch.

Question is, where's the cash?

Be careful with that.

A lot of guns in this room.

[man] Sauce, look out!

-[gunshots]
-[yelling]

-[crunch]
-[screaming]

What's your problem, boy?

Sugar Bear... Sugar Bear!

Son of a bitch popped a cap
next to my motherfucking ear, man.

Shit. I can't hear shit, man!

Motherfucker, what's your problem, boy?

[thumping]

[man groaning]

Sorry I took so long. I think I stepped
on a hypodermic needle or something.

You did great.
They were gonna do us, sure as shit.

-You did great, man.
-Motherfucker!

Look at you now, boy. Catch it, now!

Catch it, motherfucker. Punk!

Am I bleeding?

I don't know, man.

You're covered in that shit,
but I think most of it's his.

-Your head ain't bleeding.
-OK, we got to move fast.

Danny, go start the car.

Put the shotgun in your jacket, man!
Come on!

Come on, Sugar. You hear me?

Sugar, you hear me?

I hear you. It's just one side.

Okay. Get their wallets, guns, whatever.

Come on. Stop fucking around.

Let's get out of here.

[breathing heavily]

Look at you now, punk.

-[gunshot]
-[click]

I don't suppose there's anything I can say
that would convince you

to let this thing lie for a while,
is there?

Bo, I'm going tomorrow.
If you don't want to come, don't come.

No, I'll go.
And I'll call Rodney, he'll probably go.

But nobody's going to tell you it's
the most professional thing.

Hey.

We go tomorrow.

I got no trouble believing that,
let me tell you, Frank.

[man on phone] Hey,
the man was lucky he got clear.

Fucking spade will kill you
as soon as look at you, believe me.

Uh-huh.

Absolutely, Frank.

You give my respects to Sal.

Tell him the stuff he sent for the roses
works great. Ellen is thrilled.

Okay, you too, Frank.

That was Frank.

Yeah, I heard.

So what's he need from us?

Frank wants us to put together everything
we can find on William's operation.

Find out where he keeps the cars
before he ships them to New York.

A warehouse on the highway frontage road.

He leases it from us.

Well, hell, I knew that.

You put together a list of that shit
and get it to Frank tomorrow morning, OK?

I got a feeling
that by this time next week,

Mr. Pointy Williams is gonna have
a full-time job covering his own ass!

[chuckling quietly]

I...declare...

[Bo laughs]

[Mackin] So that's the deal.

There's money up there,
and I'm gonna go and get me some.

Are you in or are you out?

-I'm in.
-What about you? In or out?

I'm in like Flynn.

I got this addiction to money
I just can't seem to shake.

I... declare... war!

You suck, man!

So what?
You beat me at this little card game.

Congratulations.
Let's see you beat me in a real sport.

What I want to know is,
is there a problem here?

Bo bragging that he can beat me
in this card game?

-That shit's 100 percent luck.
-No.

I'm talking about Pointy being black.

[Rodney] So what?

If I come to you 'cause the guy
who's fucking with me is white

am I going to ask you the same thing?

Pointy Williams ain't never
did shit for me. Fuck him.

Fuck you, too.

Are we partners or what?

Yeah.

One hundred percent.

-You still suck at war, man.
-Fuck you!

[Bo sniggering]

[imitates Bo's laugh]

What do you got for me, Lou?

A witness identified
a red Toyota leaving the scene.

We found an abandoned car downtown
that matched the description.

Bloody clothes in the trunk.

Any prints?

Not on the car.

No prints on the casings, not even smears.

The guy wipes his shells
before he fills his magazine.

He's a pro.

Did find a thumbprint
on a cassette in the tape deck.

I had SID run a trace through the NCIC

but the database is down
so it may take a while.

-Anything else?
-Yeah, that tape.

It's a jazzy, scatty kind of thing.

What about it?

It's good.

["Mah Na Mah na" playing]

Mana-mana
Dee dee, dee-dee

Mana-mana
Dee-dee, bee-dee-bee, bee-dee-bee...

Damn.

What's wrong?

A scratch.

It's really little.

But it's there. You see?

["Mana-mana" continues]

See?

Oh, I see it.

I wouldn't worry about that one.
I mean, it's in between tracks.

Well, it's the really little ones
that get under my skin, for some reason.

I'll give you ten percent off.

For having the eagle eye.
That's the best I can do.

[sighs] I don't know.

Fine.

If you think you can find Astrud Gilberto
and Walter Wanderly

on an album together, in better condition,

then go for it.

[sighs]

It's a good point.

[phone ringing]

-Hello?
-Mackin.

-Hey.
-I'm right up the road.

A place called the Circle Seven Motel.
Room 116.

-You want to hook up tonight?
-Nah.

I'll meet you guys for breakfast
over there. Say, nine o'clock?

Cool.

We're tired.

Whoa, whoa...

"We"?

I brought the dog. I'll see you tomorrow.

[Wally whimpers]

He brought the dog.

['70s funk playing]

[Danny] Yo, Dink.

There's a dude with a gun in the alley.

Who is he?

Um... Could be, he's working for Thief.

Could be, he's part of that crew
we danced with at the Towers.

I'm so tired of the drama.

Unlock the hallway door.

And when he comes through,
you put his ass to sleep.

Pointy will want to talk to him.

Yeah, when is Pointy coming back?

Plane gets here tomorrow morning.

That's good. Won't be so many people.

-Traffic around the airport's a bitch.
-Mm-hmm.

[rumble of thunder]

[door creaking]

[thud]

[jazz playing]

[Bo sighs]

So, I'm sure you got a perfect explanation
for bringing your dog

on this joyride, Mackin.

Yes, I do.

He's on his last legs.
I've got to put him to sleep next week.

Man...

I want to spend
some quality time with the dog.

Man, we can't have your mind on a dog.

We've got some serious business to do.

It's not quality time anyway, man. Look.

The fuckin' dog is sitting there,
eating scrambled eggs.

That's that man's dog.
If he says it's quality time...

-You ain't never had a fuckin' dog.
-No, I've had a dog. I've had a dog.

-I didn't take my dog to a hotel room...
-Gentlemen, gentlemen.

Let's get back to business.

I want to do the Black Hole.

Tonight.

Alright.

I'll check it out this afternoon.

Yo, man. Pointy's in.

He's acting kind of weird.

What you doing?

Man, this nigga's got, like,
five little pieces of cloth on his desk.

Just staring at them shits.

[French accordion music playing]

[accordion music continues]

[Dink] What up, Pointy?

What you doing, man?

Checking out these swatches.

What?

Swatches, man.

Sample pieces of cloth,

so you can figure out what fabric
to cover your furniture in.

Thinking of doing
that sofa over there in...

straw-colored ragoon.

So, what's going on around here?

Well, let's see.

As you know, we almost got
our heads blown off at Walnut Towers.

The Thief is supposed to be
on his way back here, and...

Huh...

Oh, yeah, some nigga I never seen before
climbed the fire escape.

-So we had to knock his ass out.
-What?

Yeah, he's waiting for you
in the storage closet.

Welcome home.

[sighing]

Let's go see the nigga in the closet.

-[muffled groaning]
-[Pointy] Shit, man.

That's Malcolm Steele, the nigga
that set up the deal at the Towers, man.

-I thought y'all killed him.
-Killed everyone there.

He wasn't there.

Let me talk to this motherfucker.

[screams]

Fuck you, Pointy!
You fucked with the wrong motherfucker.

I'm from Gary, bitch. We don't--

[groaning]

You from Gary, huh?

Let me tell you where I'm from.

A little place called
"fresh off a nigga's ass."

And you just made me homesick.

Malcolm, Malcolm, Malcolm...

You stupid motherfucker, you.

Wasn't bad enough that you sent
all your people to get killed.

Now you got to come down here
and die your damn self.

Oh.

Shit...

Tell me, man,

who was it that we killed at Towers?

So important
that you had to come down here?

A brother?

Well...

Your brother fucked up, kid.

Now the nigga's dead.

So why don't you just...

enjoy your last few moments here,
marinating in your own juices?

While me and my people figure out,
you know, what to do with your corpse.

After that,

I'll come back
and kill you personally, alright?

[muffled groan]

[muffled groaning]

'Night, John-boy.

Don't open it here, Nick.

I photocopied parts
of seven different files.

Everything in that folder
has been cleared for use,

background only, by the Chief.

This conversation is also background only.

Deep background. No direct quotes.

Attribution to "departmental sources
close to the investigation,"

whatever you guys write.

Photographs, you can print
once you run the story.

-What is the story?
-Don't make me run the whole thing.

Trust me, it's unpleasant enough
to make you very happy.

How long do I have to wait?

A week would be beautiful.
We have an officer undercover.

No, I can't wait a week.

Martians could land
on the White House lawn in a week.

Would you cut me some slack?
I'm being good to you.

Like I haven't been good to you, Louise?

Come on, what about the pawnshop thing?
I'm not trying to keep score.

But if we're going to talk about tips,
I've got a few coming to me.

I'm aware of that.
Why do you think I'm here?

I just need a week, Nick.

Alright.

-Pleasure doing business with you, friend.
-Uh-huh!

You know, every time we get together,
it's always business.

Wouldn't hurt you to have me
over to your house for dinner.

Yeah, it would.

But I'm telling you, though, Claude, man,

when I was down in South Beach...

That Lyonnais calf sweetbread

was très, très...

good.

Wouldn't be so bad
if we had something like that here.

So, I'm supposed to follow the Cubans?

They're experts in French food, now?

Hey, hey, man. I'm not saying all that.

I'm just...

Look, man, I'm not trying to mess
with your culinary artistry, man.

I'm just throwing out suggestions
and whatnot.

Come on, man. You're my man.
Best chef in Motown, no doubt.

Fine, Peter.

Come on, Claude, don't get upset, man.

I need you here, man.

If another restaurant came out
and tried to steal you away from me,

I don't know what I would do.

I'd probably kill you, I'd be so jealous.

Oh, man, Claude!
Come on, man, I'm only kidding, man!

Claude, man, come here.

You're my man. Alright?

You cool?

Alright, man.

But you know, don't leave me.

Alright. I'll check you later.

Alright?

[funk playing]

[woman's voice, indistinct]

-[Pointy] Ms. Kayhill.
-[woman] Thank you.

Did you miss me as much as I missed you?

Mr. Williams.

How was Florida?

Pretty good.

Would have been better
if you had come along.

You're kind of here... a little early.

Just checking the schedule.

So...

You coming by, this evening?

No, baby.

I can't. I've got business.

But I'll see you a little later.

Alright, now?

Mm-mmm...

[fizzling]

[loud funk playing over PA]

[inaudible]

[people laughing]

[click]

[heavy banging]

[man] Whoa! Hey!

-[Mackin] Shut the music off now!
-[needle scratch]

Down on the floor!

-Get down!
-[people screaming]

[Mackin] Get down! Everybody down!

[Mackin] Shut the fuck up!

You! Get your fuckin' hands up!

Let's go. Empty the cash register, now.

[Mackin] Down, down! Get down, you!

Shut the fuck up. Down!

Let's go, big man.

-Turn around.
-[Dink] Be cool, Sugar.

Over here, against the bar, let's go.
Spread 'em.

The safe.

What safe?

-[loud blast]
-[people screaming]

Empty it.

Let's go. Out! Everybody stay down!

[Dink] Want the coins, too?

So you're the Thief?

We gonna kill you, Thief.

Sugar, please shut the fuck up.

So we're even now, huh?

I'll think about that.

Tell Pointy Williams I said hey.

We have people outside.
If you try to leave, we will kill you!

Thank you for your time.

[panicked voices]

[Dink] I think Phil is fucked up.

-[blast]
-[fizzling]

[all screaming]

[screeching tires]

Are you out of your fuckin' mind?

What did you kill the poor bastard for?

We didn't kill anybody.

Bo, the guy's not dead. Take it easy.

Go ahead and show him.

It's a hand load. So? I don't get it.

Convincers, man.
Less than half the normal powder charge.

Right? No shot.

No shot? Something hit
that poor son of a bitch.

Rock salt.

Stings like a motherfucker
but it ain't going to kill nobody.

Thanks for telling me.

By the way, how did we do?

The cash in here is mostly 20s.

I don't know,
there's maybe 20, 25 grand in here.

[sighs]

Can you move your seat forward?

[ringing]

Mackin.

So how far is this going to go, Mackin?

-He tried to kill me, Frank.
-I know.

Look...

Sal's been asking questions about this.

I'd like to get this wrapped up.

I've got no wish
to mess up anything for you guys.

This is between me and Pointy Williams.

I understand that.

But if you can be nice and snappy
with this whole revenge bit

it would really help us out.

Alright, Frank.

Bye.

[Chief] Good news, Louise?

Found a thumbprint matching our cassette.

Left at the scene of a bank robbery
in Atlanta, four years ago.

An insurance investigator who worked
the case is faxing me a police sketch.

Based on a guard's ID
from the Atlanta robbery.

See how it matches up with
our police sketch from the Black Hole.

[beep]

[Petrone] Yep. I think that's our guy.

Dink.

Hey.

So, I want my kilo.

I'm ready to go.

Can't, baby.

Nobody's getting anything
but the major players.

Maybe next month.

Has to be cool until then.

Yeah, well, the Thief
is cutting into my shit, now.

I'm about getting paid,
know what I'm saying?

I understand.

-Coffee. Black.
-That's what I'm holding.

-Keep it.
-Thank you very much.

I want this thing
to be over with the Thief.

What you have, Ricky?

Circle Seven, room 116, Garden City.

He ain't gonna be there much longer.

Give me a call tomorrow.

You can pick up your kilo then.

Alright, Dink!
Now that's what I pay your black ass for!

Listen up, kid.

I got something for you.

[Rodney] It is a damn shame

to see such fine automobiles like these
destroyed.

Damn!

[Mackin] Not when those automobiles
belong to pointy Williams.

[clunk]

[click]

Set.

Look here,

you take them other two fools.

I got the Thief.

Hey, Rodney, see if those windows open.
It's getting kind of thick in here.

Alright.

[car engine outside]

Psst! Company.

Ah, shit.

Nice to see you again, Benny.

[ragga blasting from stereo]

[music cuts out]

Alright. Let's hit it.

Hey, next time you see
Mr. Pointy Williams,

you tell him, now it's over.

[sports commentator talking on TV]

Yo, man, sounds like he's in there.

Alright, look here.

We ain't gonna fuck around
with knocking on the damn door.

I saw what this dude can do
at the Black Hole.

Best way to deal with his ass is to knock
down the door and light his ass up.

[roaring]

[bang]

[gunshots echoing]

[Danny] Yo, man, I think we hit somebody.

[Sugar Bear] Check it out.
I'm checking the toilet.

[bathroom door opens]

-Oh, damn, man.
-[Sugar Bear] Clear.

Yo, we killed his dog, man.
That's some seriously fucked-up shit.

-What's your fuckin' problem, man?
-I had a dog when I was a kid.

It looked just like that one.
I'm feeling all bad and shit.

I bet this will get
that Thief's attention.

Yo, we already had his attention, man.
Come on, let's go.

Man, I haven't done anything like that
in a long time.

Well, we need to think
about getting out of Detroit.

You down, Mackin?

We're done here.

[police radio chatter]

[haunting music playing]

They got Wally.

[phone ringing]

What?

[Sugar Bear] Yo, man, a cop is here.

She ain't got no warrant, though.

Want me to send her ass up?

Yeah.

[French chanteuse singing over stereo]

Mr. Williams?

Detective Petrone.

I'm glad you're here.

I hope you got some leads

on those gentlemen who robbed my club.

I'm not here for that. I'm working
the Kendall-McNamara case.

Didn't you already go through
this dog and puppet show

with my man, Dink?

Actually, I thought you might want to see
something interesting on TV.

Should be on, right about now.

Channel 18.

[reporter] This afternoon,
the police suspect arson

in the burning of that warehouse
on Highway 45.

The warehouse was full
of high-end automobiles,

all burned beyond recognition.

We will follow this story
with more information as it becomes--

[click]

I'm sorry, did you say something?

I saw your lips move
but I didn't hear anything.

Well, then I'll speak clearly

so you can understand me.

Fuck you.

Whatever that shit was
has nothing to do with me.

Alright Pointy,
let's stop bullshitting, okay?

I know it's the Thief.

I know he took down the Black Hole,

I know you set him up with the cops,

I strongly suspect
he just burned down that warehouse,

which, if the trail is right,
was full of cars you stole.

Well, if you know so damn much,
then arrest me.

Let me explain, Pointy.
I don't give a shit about you.

I don't care whether you go to jail,
stay free, live or die.

Your some other cop's problem.

I'm working the Kendall-McNamara case.
I want the Thief.

What you want from me?

Information.

I'm assuming you don't want to incriminate
yourself, so take a couple of days.

Think about how you would carefully word

what you say to me.

And I'll be visiting you soon.

There ain't nothing to get out of me.

I'm just a... humble restaurant owner.

Alright.

Bye, Mr. Williams.

[door closes]

[Pointy] Goddamn you, bastard!

-My motherfuckin' Caddy!
-[glass smashing]

Goddamn it!

Hey, Mackin,
he was a cool little dog, man.

Sorry, man.

Look, I'm not going to explain to you
the scope of my relationship with the dog

because if I do,

the words are going to sound
fuckin' stupid coming out of my mouth!

Shit!

Okay, man. We understand you.

I mean, now is a time for thinking.

We need to be thinking about getting
out of here before things get worse.

Oh! Things are going to get a lot worse
for a certain dog-killer.

[Bo] Mackin, you were going
to put him to sleep anyway.

It was a dog, okay?

We don't want to die over a dog,
for Christ's sake.

Well, we're not going to be the ones
doing the dying.

[upbeat house music over hi-fi]

Williams' people sent 10,000 cash
for the printing plant thing.

It's not much.

But it's a gesture.

"The possibility that the violence
is linked to the Chicago mob...

said to be headed for more than a decade
by Sal Capetti,

was labelled 'sheer speculation'
by the Chicago FBI office,

as were reports that the investigation
would act as a catalyst

to revive the Midwest
Organized Crime Strike Force,

currently slated to be disbanded
next month."

It must end now, Francis.

Ten years,
I've taken care of our business.

and never once have those parasites
at the Justice Department

come close to me.

To us.

Now, in a week, everything goes to hell.

I see my name back in the newspapers,
connected with a food stamp heist.

Food stamps, for Christ's sake!

Oh, knock it off, Marie!

You're skinny enough as it is.

[house music continues]

What's our exposure?

On paper, nothing.

The Feds can subpoena the whole world.

All they'll find is that Hookright
sold 51% of Consolidated

to a real estate investment company
for 141,000 dollars.

That's what all the papers say.

And the rest of the real estate people
are clean, so...

There's nothing written down that
indicates who really controls the company.

But this Mr. Hookright knows, am I right?

Sort of, I guess.

Hookright was so coked up,
who knows what he remembers?

But yeah, he knows,
he did the deal with me personally,

even if he doesn't really know
how much control he gave up,

and that's not good.

Seven, eight years ago,

all my people wanted to be John Gotti.

-[Marie] Sal, turn down the thermostat!
-Oh, shit.

Except you, of course, Francis.

You have always understood.

[beeping]

But the young men, they all wanted
to work for a Teflon Don.

Because they all wanted to be Teflon Dons.

Where's Gotti, now?

Who's taking care of Gotti's people, now?

[sighs]

I don't want to be brought down
like that, Francis.

I tell you this formally: it must end.

The Thief must go home.

No more newspaper stories.

Ho capito.

I'll take care of it.

Richardson party? Right this way.

[soft conversation]

Thank you.

Hi, Pointy.

Hang on one second.

Maybe the Thief left town.
Ricky don't know where he is.

Well, if at first you don't succeed,
get out the motherfuckin' kitchen.

Just tell Ricky to try harder.

Promise him something.

Shit, nigga, do I have to do
all the thinking round here?

I get it.

Don't mind me, Miss.
I'm here to see the owner.

Mr. Williams, I need to talk to you.

It's cool.

Wait here ten minutes, no more.
If I'm not out in ten minutes, go home.

This is fucked, Mackin.

You don't even know if he's in there.

If he's in there
we need to wait for him to come out,

do him outside.

Bam!

You ain't thinking, dude.

I'm tired of fucking around with this guy!

He's in there. I can smell him.

Now, I go in there,
I kill him, I come out,

we go home.

Alright, Pointy.

Report on my desk this morning said
a motel got machine-gunned

in Garden City last night

A dog got gunned down.

One of yours?

I don't know shit about no dog, alright?

I don't know shit about no fire,

I don't know shit about no cars,
I don't know shit about birthing babies.

I don't know shit about shit.

-Uh-oh.
-[Sugar Bear] What's up?

He just walked in.

Motherfucker!

[ricochets]

Freeze, Sugar Bear!

Police!

-[gunshots]
-[groaning]

Drop the gun!

Freeze!

Freeze!

-[shattering glass]
-[people screaming]

Fuck this.

Let's go! Let's go!

[woman crying next-door]

Clear, Sergeant.

Clear.

Alright.

[dialing phone]

Officer Hassan.

Vingt-et-Un Restaurant, downtown.

We need backup and paramedics, now.

[rumble of thunder]

I was talking to Riles.

He wants to sit down, today.

Some place called Momo Amusement
on the west side.

Says Williams will be there.

No guns.

Give me the address. I'll take a cab.
You guys should go home.

No. Fuck that.

Riles said he'd bring one guy to the meet.

He figures it will be Rodney 'cause
he knows I like to be the outside guy.

Probably means he's not going
to kill me right away.

-I'll go alone.
-The fuck, you will!

I got a scoped .227 Herret in the trunk.
It'll take the nuts off a bear at 300m.

Anybody messes with you, they'll be dead.

Let's do the sit-down,

make this right, then go home.

How about it, Rodney?

Gone this far.

[Francis] I understand. Right.

No, I'm taking care of everything.

Yeah.

Tenth floor penthouse.

I'll wait here.

[doorbell]

Yeah?

Wayne Hookright?

Yeah, that's me. Who is it?

-[loud gunshot]
-[body thuds]

[Petrone] Of all the times I had
to draw my weapon

this is the first time
I ever fired it off the range.

No shit. You hit a clock.

Hassan was solid, right?

Are you kidding?
Two shots at an armed target.

Both inside the kill ring.

You could cover the entrance
with a coaster.

I'll take that any day.

She's going to fly through that hearing.
Don't worry about her.

Okay.

Don't forget these.

The paperwork I've got to do, Jesus!
No wonder I never shoot my gun.

Hey, leave that rifle
in the case, my friend.

A cop comes by, tell him
you were hunting in Arkansas.

If something goes down
it's going to take forever to get a shot.

Nothing's going to go down, Bo.

Riles knows that you're out there,
somewhere, watching.

The last thing he wants is you
following him all the way back to Chicago.

Let's go.

Keys!

[Ricky] All set, Mr. Riles.

I know about your side bet
with Dink Reeves, Ricky.

I don't really have a problem with that.
Macchi is a great old guy, but...

maybe not the best guy to work for

if you want to make money, am I right?

I haven't done nothing
to screw you over, Mr. Riles.

I ain't stole nothing, honest to God.

Take it easy, Ricky. I believe you.
I mean, hell...

If I didn't believe that,

Ray would have put a cap in you
when you walked in.

What I don't know
is whether or not you were the guy

that gave Williams the Circle Seven Motel.

The only place in town
with the Thief's number was right here.

And I'm pretty sure Joe didn't give it up.

So I got to admit, I wondered if maybe...

Mr. Riles,

maybe I did some business with Dink
on some stuff, but that's all.

I don't want to know
if you gave Williams the motel.

If you gave him the motel
I'd probably have to whack you.

Instead, what I'm going to do
is let bygones be bygones.

That's the whole problem, here.

No one wants to let go of the past.

Well, I'm letting go of the past, Ricky.

Because guys like you and me...

We have to worry about the future.

Am I right?

Yes, sir.

[door buzzer]

[Francis] That's the Thief and his man.

Let them in. Pat them down.

[tense music playing]

[Dink] Pointy will be here in a minute.
He's just getting a haircut.

You're about 200 pounds of bad news, huh?

If it makes any difference,
you're way ahead on this whole thing.

The warehouse hit, it hurt bad.

I figured I was way ahead
when I got out of that cop car

without a bullet in my head.

Let's wait for Pointy.
We'll get it worked out.

[tense accordion music playing]

-Is he clean?
-[Francis] He's clean.

Now Ray's gonna make sure you're clean,
you're gonna sit down,

and we're going to work this out.

Goddamn, man, you hit a nut!

[tense accordion music continues]

Let's get this shit started.

Now, I've lost beaucoup... of money

because of this fool.

And for those of y'all who don't know,

that's French for
"a whole motherfuckin' lot."

Now, what I want to know

is how the Italians are going
to make all this shit right.

[Francis] That's why we're here.

To make it right.

-That's what I've been trying to do.
-[Francis] No.

What you've been doing
is making a lot of noise.

We didn't give a shit as long as
you did it quickly and professionally.

Kill him, rob him,

do whatever, then get the fuck out.

Instead, you set the whole goddamn town
on fire.

And you.

You set up my man here,
tried to get him killed, for what?

For 20,000 dollars?

We're trying to set up
major business in this town

and you're nickel-and-diming it away.

What are you thinking of?

So, everybody's fucked up
but the Italians!

Don't nobody got their shit together
but the hoods in Chicago.

Alright...

We're having a conversation here.

So what's it going to take
to make everything right with you?

Shit, you got a calculator?

A calculator?

No.

Anybody here got a calculator?

Here.

How about this?

[Francis] See?

There's a better way
to handle our business.

So you're giving me lessons, now?

Alright.

Now, I'm going
to hand you over this figure.

And I want you to show me how you Italians

make things right

and handle your business.

[gunshot through silencer]

[sighs]

[Francis] What?

I want to keep it.

It's a really good pen.

-So?
-[Francis] So, nothing.

It's over.

Who's running things
in the Brickyard, now?

Don't care.

I just know who's not running things
in the Brickyard, now.

I'm gone.

The man from Chicago says...

it's over.

That good for you?

[Francis] Ray. Go get the car, please.

Ricky.

For now, I want you to wait outside.
When we're done here...

Clean this up.

Can I have a minute, Mackin?

I'll be outside.

I'm really sorry about your dog.

Wally, right?

Yeah.

Why didn't you leave him in the kennel?

I don't know.

What's wrong? You alright?

You got what you wanted.

Yeah, but...

But I wanted to do it myself.

You kill the guy all of a sudden,

like that.

It's not...

It's not what?

Fulfilling?

You need to think of a sport or something.

I belong to this softball league.

Our team meets every third Sunday.

Come out.

We lost our second baseman.
He got busted. He's doing three to five.

What do you say?

I never played softball before.

That's okay.

We'll start you in the outfield.

Yo, Dink.

That fire escape dude is...

still in the storage closet.

I think we better ought to,
you know, kill him.

Or give him some crackers or something.

Where's Pointy?

-Pointy's dead.
-Shit! You serious?

Bring Fire Escape in here.

Keep his arms tied. Take off his gag.

What up?

Your lips are cracked like a motherfucker.

Danny, get this nigga some chapstick.

Pointy Williams killed your brother.

And today, somebody killed Pointy.

I'm not going to apologize
for your brother

'cause your brother fucked up.

But I need to know where we stand.

Look, my beef's with Pointy Williams.
That nigga's dead?

I'm beefless.

That's a ballsy play, kid.

Climbing up the fire escape.

You straighten up, fly right,

maybe we'll find a place for you.

You looking for work?

I don't know.

You got benefits?

[chuckling]

Yeah, you get to live!

[moans in pain]

[jazz playing over hi-fi]

[jazz continues]

[piano solo begins]

You are one ugly dog.

[samba beat playing]

[Nick] Mmm! So Sarah,
this comes from your restaurant?

[Sarah] Yeah. I call it Orgy of Lentils.

All organic, mostly vegan.
Pretty tasty, huh?

[Nick] Mm-hmm! I was hoping
to have seconds.

[Petrone] He's buttering you up, Sarah.
After this he's heading for a steak.

[Sarah] Oh, well I hope
it's a really bloody one.

They should just kill the cow
at your table so you can enjoy the agony.

You know, like they do with lobsters.

-[Petrone] I get this every night, Nick.
-[Nick] Well, it's delicious.

Worth the wait. You know how long it took
to get an invite over here?

[Sarah] Well, Louise likes
to keep me in the dark

about everything she's doing, so...

Nick, I can only imagine.

-[Nick] How about some artichoke pie?
-[Sarah] Certainly.

I'll even give you the recipe.

[Nick] Mmm! Oh, that's really good.

[Nick chewing]

[Petrone] Really enjoying that, huh, Nick?

[samba beat continues]

[saxophone solo plays]