Margin Call Page #3

When?

- Today.

- Tuesday.

Monday. Last Friday and Wednesday.

Two Fridays ago.

All right. I get it.

F*** me.

Once this thing gets going

in the wrong direction,

this is f***ing huge.

How huge?

Well, the losses are greater than

the current value of the company.

Projected losses.

The projected losses, Will.

- And this is just our floor?

- Yes.

Where the f*** is Eric Dale?

I don't know. I tried to call him.

His phone is off.

What do you mean?

They turned everybody's phone off

that they axed today.

F***ing ruthless.

- Did you try his personal cell?

- Yeah, I called his cell phone. it's not on.

- Call his home.

- At this hour?

Yeah. Do we even know if he's right?

- Looks pretty f***ing right to me.

- It does.

Mrs. Dale, it's Will Emerson.

I'm fine, thank you. May I speak with Eric?

No, we've tried that.

His phone appears to be off.

Listen, could you have him call me

the moment he comes in?

The moment he walks through the door.

Thank you so much.

Goodbye.

Where the f*** is he?

- Doesn't he have, like, three kids?

- So?

F***, I don't know, would you go home?

I know where he is.

I need you two to go and get him.

There will be a car

waiting for you downstairs.

- You need to go.

- Right now?

Yeah, right now.

What are you going to do?

I'm going to call Sam.

F*** me.

- Yes?

- It's Will.

It's 11:
00 at night.

I know. I'm sorry. I wouldn't have called.

What's the problem?

I think you need to get back here.

What?

Sam, listen...

it's 11:
00 at night.

I'm well aware of the f***ing time, Sam.

I'm telling you, you need to see this.

See what?

It's...

E- mail it to me.

I don't think that, that

would be a good idea.

I'm on my way.

Look at these people.

Wandering around with absolutely no idea

what's about to happen.

Right?

Well, I try to not let

work get to me like that.

I've noticed that about you.

Come on. We're 23 years old.

- I'm 28.

- All right, 28.

Whatever, it's the same thing,

but I made nearly a quarter

of a million dollars last year.

F***. For what?

I push numbers around

on a computer screen.

A bunch of glorified crack addicts

are willing to take that information,

and they pretend to understand it,

and they bet it against some other jock

halfway around the world

who, you know, if he wasn't doing this,

he'd be in an OTB somewhere,

putting it all on number seven, you know?

At the end of the day,

one guy wins, one guy loses.

You do know it's a little more

complicated than that, right?

Yeah.

It's Will. He wants to know if we found him.

What do I say?

Let's say that we haven't found him yet.

Okay.

- Hey.

- Hey.

So?

Eric Dale.

Oh, Jesus.

Before he leaves the building,

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