Stakeout

Sh*t.

- A little late.|- Yeah, tell me about it.

I'm all out of spares.|Should have been home hours ago.

That's got it.

Thanks.|See you in a half hour.

Open up.

Get me out of this trap!

Hey, Louie!

- Give my regards to Broadway.|- What'd I tell you about screwing around with my books?

I didn't touch your fag rags,|you understand?

Who the hell else touched them then?|There's only you and me in here.

- Piss off!|- Hey, man, don't f***in' tell me to piss off.

I just did, a**hole.

Come on.|Come on, big cowboy.

- We got a problem in 17. Better get down there.|- Hey, Billy. Billy, get him good.

- Come on!|- Get ya down there!

- Kick the sh*t out of him!|- Hey! Hey! Hey!

Hey! Hey!|What's going on in there?

Kill the mother!

Do it!

Help!

Oh, God!

Get off!

Die, you f***er!|You son of a b*tch!

I'm coming after you!|I'll kill you! I'll kill you!

You goddam scum!|I'll kill you!

God!

Will you take it easy?

Put him up here.

Numbnuts!

F*** you.

Don't move.

Doc, keep your shoes|in one place, man.

F*** you too.

Come on.|Get on the table.

Hey. Hey!|Stick, we gotta go!

I want to ask you a question.|Do you think it's humane...

to pump perfectly sane prisoners|full of filoxin and thorazine?

Come on, man.|Let's get out of here.

All right,|we got three minutes.

Let go.|Let go, man.

Get in the box.|Get in the box!

- Okay. See you next week.|- Right.

- Good night.|- Good night. Thanks.

Are we out?

- We out?|- Yeah.

Yeah?

- Who's this?|- Uh, that's, uh, Maria McGuire.

She came a couple of times|to visit Montgomery.

2221 Speck Road, Seattle.|Is that address current?

I hope so.|That's all we got.

May I, uh-|Thank you.

Hey, you want these eggs hot? You want me|freeze them? Come on. Pick them up. Thank you.

- See the game last night?|- No, no. I missed it.

Whoa. Don't get your hands|too close to his mouth.

Anything else?

- Yeah, I'd like another cup of coffee, please.|- Okay.

- And I'd like a side order of sausage.|- You bet.

- How long has he been in there?|- About ten minutes.

- That is disgusting.|- Really?

My God. Do you eat like that|in front of your mother?

- It's an old family custom.|- Well, I'll tell ya, it's not healthy.

You gotta take your time. Do you have any|idea what that does to your digestive system?

No, but I'm afraid|you're gonna tell me.

You've got to savour|the qualities of the cuisine.

First the smell-|Oh, for Christ's sake-

There he is. Come on. Let's go.|Pay the cheque.

Come on. Let's get the forklift up here.|Come on. Let's go.

There he is.

All right, he's not here.|You check upstairs. I'll take the docks.

Oh, no, no. I picked up the cheque.|You take the fish.

Oh, sh*t.

You're under arrest!|You have the right to remain silent.

Oh, sh*t!

Oh, sh*t!

Bill!

Bill!

Stop! Police!

Bill!

Pardon me. Excuse me.|Sorry. My fault.

Sorry. Oh, God.

What do you think you're doin'?

- Hey!|- Freeze!

Lace your fingers above your head|and turn around towards me real slow.

Now you're under arrest.

Get back!

Chris!

Oh, God, I hate this part.

I'm on fire

Desire

- Took you long enough.|- It's my one desire

- Desire to win|- Free air, man. Free air.

- I'm gonna say it again, say it again -|You don't know what this means. - It's my one

- You have no idea. -|Yeah. Let's move. - Desire

Hi, Bernie.|I'd like some prints.

And there's some blood on the blade. I'd|like to have it typed. Thank you very much.

What is that smell?|Chris?

Oh, oh, oh, oh, looks like somebody's|been in a fight,Jack.

What? Nobody in cuffs here?|That must mean something.

No, wait a minute, wait a minute, wait|a minute. I think that means that, uh...

somebody got their ass kicked.

Complaints.|I'm Bernie.

- Okay.|- God, you stink.

Hey, guys. Captain wants to|see you in his office ASAP.

ASAP? I'd like to take a shower first.|What do you say?

- Please.|- I wish you would.

But by the sound of his voice,|I think he'll see you as is.

Go ahead! Get out!

Uh, wait a minute, chuckles.

- Captain wants to see you too.|- What'd you do now?

What the hell happened to you?|Looks like you got your ass kicked?

No, no, don't sit there, no.|Shut the door.

Gentlemen, this is Agent Thomas Lusk|from the regional FBI headquarters.

- Detective Bill Reimers.|- Hey, Billy.

- There's, uh, Chris Lecce over there. Uh, Phil Coldshank.|- Pleasure, sir.

- And, uh,Jack Pismo.|- Right on.

"Right on. "|He said, "Right on. "

Now, the FBI has requested some help|over the next couple of weeks.

So for now,|your cases have been reassigned.

- Whoa, whoa, reassigned? - Wait a minute. Bill and I|are close to breaking this thing- - A forklift, wasn't it?

From now on,|you're working full-time on this.

- Kleenex, please.|- In the drawer there.

Mr, uh, Lusk is in charge of this|operation, so I'll let him do the talking.

Yeah, I-I don't know if you're familiar with|Montgomery, but, uh, just in case you're not.

Two years ago he killed|one of our agents.

He should have had the chair,|but he had a sharp attorney...

and the local police were a little too|zealous in their pursuit of evidence.

- A plea bargain kept him|from frying. - Yo! - Sorry.

Just busted out of Stonehurst,|didn't he? Killed a guard?

Yeah, he and his cousin crossed into Wyoming,|ditched their truck and had a car waiting.

- If he's in Wyoming, why are you here?|- Well, we think he'll head for Mexico, but he has friends here.

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