"Hey, guys." "What's up?" "Same deal as yesterday?" "I can't eat anyway." "My guts are a wreck." "If you just keep these animals off me, you can have all my meals." "I'm just gonna take this butter." "Okay, can I have your butter?" "Got to force something down, right?" "Sorry, kid." "No deal today." "What?" "Hey, Jogo, no, no, no, Jogo, wait." "Jogo, what's going on?" "Oh, my God." "Oh, no." "No!" "No, please, no!" "No!" "Fire, fire, fire, fire, fire!" "Fire, fire, fire, fire, fire, fire, fire, fire, fire, fire, fire!" "Keep it moving, convict." "Travis, you've lost a lot of weight." "Are you feeling okay?" "Yeah, fine." "You know how it is," "Warden, when you're recovering from an injury and you have no appetite." "Oh, no, wait, I was supposed to mail this, wasn't I?" "Is it important?" "Yeah, it's a state funding request." "What?" "Go!" "Oh." "Hey." "I've got to get this in the mailbox before the last pickup." "Yeah, the warden already called it down." "Go ahead." "Son of a bitch." "Security breach." "Lockdown, lockdown." "South perimeter... security breach." "Lockdown." "Lloyd, I could teach you a hundred different fighting moves, but if you start something on the inside, you're gonna catch a beatdown." "Yeah, that's what I'm saying." "I don't want to be starting something on the inside." "I want to be able to defend myself out here when we're working cases;" "I don't need to remind you we are a gun short." "Not everyone is Damien Fontleroy." "It's not just the runners, Shea." "Okay?" "The danger lurks everywhere." "It wasn't a runner that tased me last time." "Are you still whining about that?" "I'm suffering from PTSD." "Whining's part of the healing process." "Okay, I got a move for you." "Come here." "Okay." "Yeah, let's do it, let's do it." "Come here." "All right, ready?" "What about a goocher?" "I don't know what a goo..." "Aah..." "llelujah!" "That stings me." "That's a goocher." "Who are we after today?" "Travis Muncey, eh?" "No rap sheet?" "He was arrested six weeks ago for possession of a stolen handgun." "Escaped while still awaiting trial." "Wow, okay, check this out, uh, he tucked the handgun into his pants and shot himself in the butt." "Slick." "Call that a Plaxico right there." "Superficial wounds, but the genius went to the emergency room to get some Bactine and a band-aid." "He didn't know that they would have to report a gunshot wound to the police." "Why are we going after this guy?" "It's kind of insulting." "Hey, don't look a gift horse in the mouth." "We get one month per fugitive." "Degrees of difficulty got nothing to do with it." "Okay, don't, don't jinx us, Shea." "Oh, please, this is the easiest month ever." "Shea, you don't enter a casino through the main entrance, you don't bet with a $50 bill, and as Kenny Rogers made abundantly clear, you don't count your money while you're sitting at the table; stop jinxing us." "See you got the Travis Muncey file." "More like postcard." "Well, there's a few details missing." "Prior to his arrest, Travis Muncey had no criminal record, no known connection to any criminal enterprise." "A total nobody and yet..." "When Travis broke out yesterday and his mug shot hit the wires, facial recognition software flagged him in this intel photo, taken three months ago in Rio." "Travis Muncey, a total nobody, riding dirty with Bob Dixon, one of the most powerful and violent arms traffickers in the world." "Shea, you jinx." "Dixon is real scum, an English hooligan who runs guns to every war zone on the planet." "Usually supplies both sides." "Specialty is compact weapons, light enough for child soldiers." "Nice." "We had the bastard once, until he killed two Marshals and fled the country." "This earned him a top spot on our top 15 most wanted hit parade." "Eight years running." "CIA and a few foreign intelligence agencies have gotten close to him in Eastern Europe and Asia, but he slipped away every time." "So, what's the connection between these two?" "No idea; according to Muncey's tax returns, he mostly works as a waiter." "What'd you learn about his travel history?" "Passport never been used until a few months ago when he suddenly took a six-city tour through South America." "All right, this guy really came out of nowhere." "No telling what he is to Dixon." "Trigger man, money launderer, muscle for hire..." "How about none of the above?" "I mean, come on, we're talking about a guy who shot himself in the ass." "You have any better suggestions?" "No." "Then shut up." "Start taking this serious, people." "Because ATF and Customs believe Bob Dixon is on U.S. soil right now moving a massive shipment of guns." "That can't be a coincidence." "Could Dixon have helped Travis escape?" "No, he used the butter from the chow hall; he busted himself out." "Whether he had Dixon's help or not, he is a credible link to an extremely dangerous fugitive." "ATF, FBI, CIA, they're all waiting for us to catch Travis Muncey." "And here's the thing, when we get him, we're not gonna turn him in." "We're gonna use him to catch Dixon." "We do that, no one will ever question our legitimacy again." "Mine or yours." "Let's get to work." "Hi, Lloyd." "Hello." "Listen, you seem a little, little distracted today." "Are you... are you all right?" "I'm fine." "Good, just wanted to make sure that recent events haven't caused some sort of relapse or something." "I'm fine, I'm just working the case." "Finding a lead, in fact." "Good." "Ray?" "Yeah." "A laundromat in Jersey City reported a skinny, naked man stealing clothes out of one of their machines last night." "He was moving east from the prison." "Jersey City, possibly Manhattan." "Still has an apartment on the Lower East Side." "Well, does he have, uh, a girlfriend or a roommate?" "Let's find out." "You won't know if you can fly unless you actually jump." "Oh, that's rich, but it's a move I'm developing, and it's called... the double punch." "No." "Why?" "One punch is good." "Two punches is doubly good." "It's twice the power." "Hi-yah." "Twice the pain." "Hi-yah!" "Oh, is it time for round two?" "I'm not having this anymore." "I'll call the cops." "U.S. Marshals." "I'm sorry, I thought you were Aaron's friends." "Who's Aaron?" "He sublets the place." "The real tenant went to jail." "Is Aaron home?" "I don't know." "He didn't find the note I left him." "Probably sleeping it off." "He had a whole rowdy bunch over here for some kind of party." "Lots of yelling and carrying on." "Sir, go inside, lock the door." "You don't have to tell me twice." "Clear." "Boy, Aaron knows how to party." "I guess we're not the first ones who came asking for Travis." "Could be a terribly botched attempt at autoerotic asphyxiation." "No, this is some sadistic shit here." "You choke a guy with a garret till he agrees to answer all your questions like, "Where's Travis?"" "Then you slit his throat, so he doesn't talk to anybody else." "A garret?" "You choke them with a small attic room?" "I believe the word you're looking for is "Garrote."" "Travis Muncey was no arms dealer, he was a freaking actor, and not a very good one." "Community theater, student films." "This guy couldn't book a commercial for herpes medication." "What can a guy like this possibly offer someone like Bob Dixon?" "Travis had family in Youngstown, right?" "Parents, two sisters?" "We got the Marshals watching them." "He hasn't made contact yet." "And he probably won't." "There aren't any pictures of them anywhere." "You know, perhaps these Midwestern Munceys, like the parents of a lot of thespians, weren't very supportive of Travis' artistic endeavors." "You know, Maslow's hierarchy of needs tells us that in order for Travis to access his own creativity, he must first have a sense of belonging, and if his family's not giving him that, he would be driven to seek out a surrogate family, you know?" "Who are the Massapequa Players?" "They are a very off-Broadway acting company based out of Long Island." "All right, well, let's see if Travis' friends know what he did for Dixon, and Jules, let's make sure these investigators process these prints." "Maybe we'll luck out, we'll find out who's doing Dixon's dirty work." "An international player like him probably hires out muscle from the local underworld." "Whoever his New York people are, they know what they're doing with a..." "garrote." "Right, Jules, we need a solid from the gang unit, okay?" "See if they know of any local crime organizations whose M.O. includes the garrote." "I'm on it." "The fatso in the apartment said he didn't know where Muncey was." "I didn't believe him at first, but..." "Look, it was hard to get to Muncey in jail." "You got to rely on thieves, rapists... not the most dependable... but now he's out, we do the job ourselves." "We just got to find him." "Then bloody well find him!" "Come on, let's go." "All right, thanks, Corbell." "You think of anything else, you let me know." "All right, that's three detectives now saying, uh, the Malko brothers have a thing for choking out their victims." "They're always on the move, so the gang unit can't get a bead on their base of operations." "Right, if they control everything from Brighton Beach to Fire Island, pick any random business owner, they'll know the Malkos." "Good luck getting 'em to talk." "Watch the master." "Hey, is anyone home?" "Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock." "This thing isn't... there we go." "You break it, you bought it." "Can I help you?" "My bad." "You the owner?" "What precinct you guys with?" "Oh, we just met and you want to insult me like that?" "I'm no cop." "He thinks I'm Five-O." "Well, then what are youse two..." "nice interracial couple who just moved into the neighborhood?" "We're your new best friends." "Hey, cut that out." "Now, let's say someone's giving you a hard time, you know, you know, bounces a check." "Watch it." "Take it easy." "Or even worse, steals some of this overpriced crap." "No." "Relax." "You just give us a call and we'll take care of everything." "Please." "I'm already paying someone for that." "Yeah, who?" "The Malko brothers." "The Malko brothers?" "Give 'em a call, get 'em down here." "We want to have a conversation with 'em." "Check out this clown." "Who, the Beastie Boy?" "Is this the guy they sent to grease us?" "These Malko brothers aren't impressing me a whole lot." "Unless they sent him 'cause their heavy hitters are tied up on more pressing business." "All right, stay here." "I'll be by the car." "Yo, Stevie!" "Yo!" "Yo." "You hear me calling you?" "What's a nice kid like you doing with the Malkos?" "I'm a U.S. Marshal, actually." "They sent you here unarmed?" "Who's they?" "I'm on my way to the library." "Hey, buddy, calm down now." "Those aren't mine." "What is this, some gangster internship?" "You got your whole life ahead of you, kid." "Don't be stupid." "My name is Zancanelli." "You ever get in trouble, this is your get-out-of-jail-free card." "All you got to do is tell me where I can find the Malkos or, better yet, a limey named Dixon." "What the hell's going on here?" "Hey, hey, calm down, calm down, relax." "You said you weren't a cop." "Chill out." "I'm a U.S. Marshal." "Get out of here." "You hear me, bozo?" "Yo, Ray, that kid jacked you up, man." "Get in the car." "I'm just..." "Yoink." "Now, I understand your desire to protect Travis." "Did you know that the dynamic of a theater troupe can actually mirror that of a gang... outcasts with very few social prospects... no offense... joining together in mutual support of an idea..." "You have excellent diction." "Where did you train?" "Train?" "No, I didn't... well, not formally at least." "Some school plays, Harold Hill in The Music Man." "Here we go, De Niro." "Travis' size, all covered in butter." "How's it going, Travis?" "Once more, what'd you tell him?" "Nothing." "What'd you tell him?" "!" "Nothing, I swear!" "He already knew about Dixon!" "Let me see that." "Let him go." "One down, one to go." "Let's hope the second's as easy as the first." "Stop jinxing us, please." "Aah, hey, not so rough." "You want to see rough?" "Shit, shit." "Uh-oh, Captain Hairdo's coming." "Looking sharp." "Thank you." "Let's go, dickhead." "Hey." "That's not what happened." "I don't know, that's just what I heard." "I didn't get my ass handed to me." "You didn't get your ass handed to you by Ralph Macchio?" "No, I did not." "He come up to you like..." "Yeah, with a one-kick move, and I want you to teach me it." "Cheap shot... get away from me." "It was right, it was right in the ear." "All right." "Jules, reach out to the juvie cops in Far Rockaway, see if they know that punk kid with the pawnshop bling." "He runs with the Malkos." "Pawnshop bling?" "Yeah, he wants to look like a player, so he wears old high school rings, that cheap gold-plated shit." "Oh." "I know I'm in real trouble here, but, honest, I'm a guy who tries to play by the rules." "Not me..." "I'm supposed to turn you over to the FBI, but you're not leaving my sight until you help me get Bob Dixon." "Yeah, uh, Bob." "Bob found me through my commercial agent." "What the hell for?" "He wanted me to go to Rio with him and pose as a shipping executive named John Herlihy." "He hired you to impersonate someone?" "Well, no, not impersonate." "Inhabit." "It was an acting job." "Bob referred to me as his "Face."" "I went with him to meet some men he was trying to do business with." "My job was to pretend that I was gonna help Bob ship some furniture into Colombia without any hassle from U.S. Customs." "That's not acting, that's fraud." "Wait, did you say he called you his face?" "That's a concept from Asian culture." "The face is actually the reputation, and if your rep's been damaged, like Dixon's has with all the heat he's garnered, you can borrow or even rent a new face." "It's an interesting bit of psychology, actually." "You know, the Chinese... they hire Caucasians to pose..." "What about the furniture?" "You expect me to believe that that was legitimate business?" "Well, I thought, I thought that possibly that the furniture was made out of illegal rain forest wood." "You thought they were smuggling rain forest wood into South America?" "Furniture was a code word, bonehead." "Dixon is trying to smuggle American-made guns to a Colombian paramilitary group." "Look, I did not know anything about that, I swear." "You mean, you didn't want to know." "Hey, the guy flew me first class to Rio with champagne and those seats that lay all the way flat." "Those are nice." "It was a five-star hotel we stayed in, there was fine food, foxy females, so if things didn't always seem quite on the up-and-up..." "Why get off the gravy train, right?" "But something made you buy a gun." "One night in Rio, some guys shot at our car." "Luckily, the windows were bulletproof, but then I realized, uh, who the hell drives a bulletproof car?" "I knew I had to back out of that gig." "I went to Bob, I said, "Find an understudy."" "Bob took a knife, he put it right to my testicles, and he said..." ""Do your job, count your money, and keep your mouth shut."" "So you kept your mouth shut." "He only needed me for one more meeting right here in New York." "All I had to do was just sit tight and wait for his call." "But I was scared." "I mean, what the hell happens when this guy doesn't need me anymore?" "So you went to Newark, you bought an illegal handgun, shot yourself in the tuchas... well done... and landed in jail." "Yeah, but I had to escape." "There was a price on my head that half the guys in County were trying to collect." "Clearly Bob was unhappy I messed up his deal." "You're just a loose end he needs to clean up, so you don't roll over on him." "If I could roll over on him, don't you think I would have by now?" "He's full of shit." "Please, guys," "I haven't eaten in weeks." "I told you, you already know way more about Dixon than I do." "All right, I don't know his phone number." "I don't even know what country he lives in." "He didn't fly out of Newark; he met us in Rio." "Who's us?" "Uh, me and his lady friend..." "we were on the same flight." "So she knew it was a scam and she knew you were really an actor?" "Yeah." "See, you do know something useful." "What's her name?" "Kizzy." "That's all you got..." "Kizzy?" "I don't know her last name, but the airline should have it." "What else you know about her?" "Uh... she's a cocktail waitress in Atlantic City." "And Bob says that she can suck a golf ball through a garden hose, so..." "You come across any Kizzy in AC?" "Oh, no, cocktail waitresses are temptresses placed there to ply you with libations and then distract you from your cards." "I make a practice of ignoring them." "Before they can ignore you?" "Mm-hmm." "Maybe you could get on the phone with some of your degenerate gambling buddies, see if anyone knows her." "Oh, come on, Raymond, I try not to ask for favors from people to whom I owe large sums of money." "That's too bad because if we find out what casino she works at, we might have to take a field trip." "Well, then, I'll make a phone call for you." "Thank you." "Travis, I really hope you're being straight with us, because if it turns out you're just a very smart actor pretending to be a very dumb actor..." "No, I am not pretending." "I mean, I am being straight with you." "Hey, hold still." "What do I do if it starts to itch?" "Any luck with transpo?" "Yep, they've got a twin-prop waiting for you at Teterboro." "Whoa, I didn't know you guys had your own wardrobe department." "Seized assets... gear from drug dealers and other scumbags." "Oh, my God, is this Armani?" "What size is this?" "Not yours." "You're gonna go as yourself... escaped convict down on his luck." "Think you can handle that?" "Yeah." "Will this do?" "Hello." "Is somebody screwing with the thermostat?" "Because... the heat is on." "Wow." "White folks." "Ouch, oh." "Hello." "Hello." "Oh, hell, no." "He is not coming anywhere near me in that shirt." "Ray, is this the bankroll?" "Five grand signed out in my name." "Every penny comes back." "I found Kizzy." "Travis?" "Yeah?" "I wrote down some stuff for you to say when you see Kizzy." "Basically, want you to pretend that you know more about Dixon's operation than you do." "You have to scare her into calling Dixon." "It's all right, I'll just ad-lib something." "No, you're gonna stick to the script, stupid." "Photo op." "Shea, take a pic..." "Come on, Erica, I'm killing in this shirt." "You're killing me." "Take it off, or I will burn it for real." "All right, guys, try not to let too many people get between you and Travis." "Okay, okay, okay, now, gambling is not a spectator sport." "If we're gonna fit in, we need to play a little bit." "So I will take, like, 500 bucks to start." "I think you left off a few zeros." "Follow me." "Come on." "All right, you sweet wheel of destiny." "17." "You finished?" "Okay, excuse me." "No more bets." "17." "Boom!" "The winner's 17." "And it begins." "Erica, you can't stop what's coming." "Let's go again." "Let's make this happen." "That's Kizzy." "Right there." "All right, guys, she's coming your way." "Give Travis the signal." "All right, dealer, we need to keep this train moving because" "Papa is hungry." "Kizzy!" "Oh, my gosh." "It's me, Travis." "What are you doing here?" "I need to get a message to Bob." "I need his help." "I think one of his competitors in the, uh... furniture business is trying to kill me." "Come on, Kizzy, I'm not an idiot." "All right, I know the guys that we met in Rio are Colombian paramilitary and Bob isn't exactly selling them Adirondack chairs." "Why are you hitting 15 when the dealer's showing 16?" "Oh, it's a seven?" "Enjoy your card." "Bump it." "Yes!" "I don't know when I'm gonna see Bob again, if ever." "I mean..." "If you do... just have him call me" "at this number, okay?" "Okay." "I got to get back to work." "All right, put a tail on her and try to speed up that warrant on the phone tap." "Erica, Lloyd, time to cash out." "I was just about to let the dogs out." "Come on." "Here, Grace, for you." "Let's go." "Ta." "Good luck, son." "Oh, no." "No, no, no, no," "Lloyd, you degenerate." "Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!" "No more bets." "No more bets." "Come on, come on." "Boom!" "Yeah!" "Oh, now come the tears and self-recriminations." "Please don't touch me." "That five bucks comes out of your hide, Lloyd." "Not my budget." "Oh, right, they must really double-check your accounting, huh, Ray?" "Oh, hey, that's mine." "That's the phone you gave me." "All right, the number's blocked." "Could be Dixon." "You're on, Travis." "Hello?" "Muncey, is that you?" "Bob?" "Kizzy said you were in trouble." "Uh, Bob, I need your help." "I think someone's trying to kill me." "Where are you?" "Back in the city." "Already?" "Kizzy said you only left the casino 40 minutes ago." "I'm heading back to the city." "I'm on a bus." "I'll be there in another hour." "Perfect." "I'll send a driver to Port Authority." "A driver?" "Uh, I don't know, Bob." "Um, how can I be sure he's with you?" "All right, I'll come for you myself." "You just look for me." "Thanks, Bob." "And, Bob, I'm so sorry I messed up your deal." "Yeah, yeah, yeah." "No worries, kid." "We'll get it all straightened out." "You'd think they could afford nicer cards than this, huh?" "Hey, hey?" "Yeah, hey, it's me." "I was beginning to think you'd lost my number." "I didn't return because I have nothing to report." "We just located the Marshals warehouse." "We're waiting for them to come out so we can raid the place and see what they know." "That's your big plan, is it?" "Well, you better drop it and get me to Port Authority." "Because a bus is rolling in soon, and Muncey is on it." "Is that so?" "Because I'm looking at Muncey right now." "He's with the Marshals." "Were you able to get Dixon's location?" "Sorry, I'm still working on it." "He probably used a black market chip." "It's all right, we'll take him at the Port Authority." "Let's arrange for a tactical team." "You two, back in your civvies." "Hey, look, if I'd have known what a monster Bob is," "I'd have come forward." "All right, well, you're helping us now." "Judge will consider that." "It's open." "Hello." "You know, you guys upstairs have an odd concept of casual Fridays." "There's a lot of things that are odd about what we do." "We keep odd hours, for instance, like you, so if our schedules happen to sync up now and then, maybe I'll come by and say hi." "No strings, no questions." "No problem." "Is this one of those times?" "Yeah, I have to give the dress back in five minutes." "We are taking down an international fugitive in a half hour, and you morons put me on hold." "Hey," "Jules, you are okay?" "Just..." "I'm fine." "Why?" "Are you still on Julianne watch?" "No, I'm, I'm, I'm concerned." "You do seem a little bit off; are you aware that you're wearing two different earrings?" "Well, at least I'm not running around showing off some double-fisted..." "Oh, so you've heard about the double punch?" "You'd do a lot more damage with two fingertips to the larynx." "Really?" "Kind of find that hard to..." "And that was half speed." "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna need some fancy coffee to get this Port Authority thing up and running." "Hi there." "Hey, where were you?" "Uh, sorry." "It took a crowbar to get me out of that dress." "Yeah." "What's the status on that?" "Hold on." "Jules, answer the phone." "She's not here." "Give me a second." "That's right, she went for coffee." "She seem okay to you?" "Uh, no, not really." "But that's kind of her thing, right?" "Well, Jules called." "It went to voice mail." "Ray, it's Julianne." "I've been kidnapped." "It's call-waiting, click over." "What's up, Jules?" "Ray, it's Jules." "They've got me." "I think it's the Malko brothers." "That's enough." "Jules?" "Gag her up." "The Malkos got Jules." "I want a beat on her cell signal now!" "Does anybody know how to do that beside Julianne?" "Call ESU, they can patch you into a trace." "Ow!" "Geez!" "What the hell are you doing?" "If I find out you had anything to do with this," "I will kill you myself." "Aah, geez." "I didn't, man." "Lloyd, keep an eye on him." "Okay, her signal's moving fast;" "she's definitely in a car." "Uh, Ray, I need you to take a left here." "Go left, go left." "Let's go." "You know, it would be nice to have a gun right now." "Okay." "Her signal just stopped." "It just stopped; right, take a right." "Right here?" "Take a right, yeah." "Okay." "Now stop, stop, stop." "This it?" "Yeah." "Jules!" "Hey." "Julianne?" "Aw, man." "This is her phone." "They ditched it." "Get it." "We got you." "Oh, man." "Get her up, get her up." "I got her, I got her." "Hold her." "Yeah." "You all right?" "I'm..." "I'm okay." "Did they hurt you?" "No." "They just let me go." "Travis!" "Can I help you gentlemen?" "Um... we're closed right now, but if you'd like to come back at a later time..." "Is he knocked out?" "Lloyd, you okay?" "They took Travis." "They took Travis." "They punched my face, and they-they took Travis." "You and Jules are lucky to be alive." "The Malkos probably thought you were Marshals, they didn't want that kind of heat." "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa." "What are you doing?" "You're calling this in?" "No, I'm ordering pizza." "What do you think I'm doing?" "I'm actually accountable for my actions, Shea." "Ray, one of your people got abducted, which made you lose Travis, which means you lost Dixon." "Which is exactly why I got to make the phone call." "We have a tail on Kizzy." "Okay, they put the screws to her, she'll lead us to Dixon." "No." "We don't have the time it will take to sweat anything out of her." "If you call this in, Ray, you can say good-bye to the Breakout Kings." "I don't call this in, I might as well get back in the van to prison with you clowns." "They'll string me up for dereliction of duty." "And if you're going to say" "Charlie wouldn't have let this happen, save your breath." "No." "I was going to say you never would have let Charlie make this phone call." "You would have told him to keep it in the team." "We can handle this." "You know I'm right, Ray." "Please don't hurt me!" "Please." "I-I'll reprise my role." "I'll help Bob close his deal!" "Move!" "I'll do anything he wants, just..." "Oh, God, oh, God." "We could go to the owner of the antique shop, get him to give us the number of the Malko brothers." "Jules, any luck tracking down the kid with the pawnshop bling?" "Uh-uh." "Well, maybe he works at a local pawnshop." "I think he may work somewhere else." "That's not pawnshop bling." "He's even cheaper than that." "He steals the jewelry off of dead bodies." "The kid works in a funeral parlor." "He was carrying these... wet daddies, herb soaked in formaldehyde." "They make you see God." "Get some good money for that in Maybelle?" "Eh, if you say so." "I just thought they were evidence." "Just haven't had a chance to turn them in yet." "Yeah, right." "Shea's theory might be worth a shot." "Okay." "Well, how many funeral homes could there be in Far Rockaway?" "We're gonna find out." "You know, I should probably stick around here with Julianne 'cause of what she's been through." "I'll be okay." "Just find that Malko creep and double-punch his face in." "Jules, you take that one." "Are you kidding me?" "You're gonna give a traumatized woman a firearm without even teaching her how to put the bullets in the handle thing?" "It's a Glock." "It's got a trigger safety." "Two marksman citations at Glynco." "Good work." "Let's go." "You gonna be okay?" "Hey, I'm just an actor, guys." "Lis..." "Bob?" "Oh, Bob, please." "Oh, Bob, Bob, Bob, please." "I don't know anything." "I didn't tell them anything, man." "Well, you knew about Kizzy." "And Kizzy says you knew our Colombian friends represent a paramilitary organization." "Oh, no, Bob." "Come on, the Marshals told me that." "It was all just a bluff, so that Kizzy would help us find you." "Yeah?" "Well, you found me." "You found me." "All right, hop to it, Lloyd." "What?" "No." "I checked out the last two corpse houses... send Shea this time." "If the kid's in there, he'll recognize me." "Get in there now." "Hello?" "I know it's late, but my mother has, uh... just... passed." "Please come in." "It's Julianne." "I've been kidnapped." "It's call-waiting, click over." "Oh, my goodness gracious." "Sincere condolences on your mother's passing." "Thank you." "It has been rough, sir." "Um... so, how does this work?" "Because I don't want to spend a lot of money, because satin pillows will not bring my mother back." "Do you have anything more in the pine box variation?" "Well, uh, we have... excuse me." "Please, w-why don't you take a seat over here, and let me get the catalog?" "Ray." "What's up, Jules?" "Ray, the place you're looking for is called Barsky's." "Well, good news... we're here now." "But it's not just where the kid works..." "I think it's a Malko front." "I think it's where Dixon is holed up." "Uh, hey, sir." "These are all way too fancy, sir." "I'm looking for pine!" "Hey there, Slim Shady." "Do you work here?" "Oh..." "Shea, you jinx." "These are loaded." "Try not to shoot yourself." "And better yet, don't shoot me." "Let's try around back." "Don't put me in there!" "Put a bullet in his head, then you dump him in the river." "No!" "Don't put me in there!" "Why'd you have to come looking?" "We let you live once, Marshal." "I am not a Marshal!" "I'm a criminal like you guys!" "Please, don't do this!" "U.S. Marshal!" "You have got to be joking." "Drop the gun!" "Don't move!" "Get on the ground!" "Don't you even move!" "Put your hands up!" "Get down." "Don't you even think about it." "We clear?" "Are we clear?" "Clear." "We're clear." "Let's go." "Put us in separate cells, right?" "You know, I had my doubts, but it's no act." "You really are dumb, aren't you?" "Yeah, apparently, that's a crime." "Look, you helped us put away a guy who's wanted in a dozen countries." "I'm gonna see to it the judge sends you home." "Jules, I totally finger-blasted that guy." "With the..." "Yeah, you might not want to tell it that way when we get back to prison." "Why?" "Just trust me on this one." "How are you?" "You okay?" "Fine." "I'm, uh... perfectly fine." "Oh." "Sounds awesome." "That's good." "Okay." "Um, who's... who's Gary Margolis?" "I was just... you know," "I was looking for the number for ESU, and you had, like, four windows open to, uh... articles on a child murderer, Gary Margolis." "You feel like telling me about it or...?" "Okay." "Don't want to talk..." "I get it." "You've been through a lot, so..." "What matters is that you're okay." "Right." "You're not perfectly fine, are you?" "And it's not just about tonight." "I am going to pieces, Lloyd." "Okay." "Okay, I'll..." "I'll talk to Ray." "I'll get you a good therapist." "Therapy is hogwash." "You told me that the first day I met you." "Okay, but you weren't going to pieces then." "You... you need somebody to talk to." "I can't go through the Marshals." "I'm an outside contractor, and they already drummed me out once, so..." "Well, I'll..." "I'll find you somebody." "You know, I'll, um..." "I'll do it." "What about that, Jules?" "I think I could help you." "I mean, you might need to open up just a little bit." "Where?" "Here?" "In front of my coworkers?" "Or... or at Maybelle, with a bunch of criminals standing around?" "I don't know what to tell you about that, Jules, but... you really need help." "I know." "Lowery, transpo's here."