Invasion U.S.A.

How much further is it to Florida?

Not too far now, just over the horizon.

We will make it, won't we?

God will show us the way.

If the Americans catch us,|will they send us back to Cuba?

What will happen to us then?

They won't catch us.

Try it.

It's not going to work.

Look! Over there! A boat!

Over here!

- Over here!|- Americans.

Welcome to the United States.

Thank you.

Enough! Stop!

Stop!

Nikko.

Oh, Madre de Dios.

It's down there.

Ay! Diablo!

FBI.

- Cassidy, FBI.|- Lieutenant, they're here.

- You in charge?|- Lieutenant Tom Green, Homicide.

- What happened?|- A fishing trawler found them.

- The tugs pulled her in.|- Any witnesses?

No, the Coastguard said she was|on a routine smuggling prevention patrol

the last time they made radio contact.

- Who's been on board?|- My men. Some coastguard brass.

And a reporter.

She got here before we did.

- Did she touch anything?|- I don't think so.

- Where is she?|- Over there.

- Check her out.|- I haven't done anything wrong!

Let me go!|Take your hands off me! Come on.

- Take it easy.|- Press pass.

These two bozos have been holding me|while those bastards scoop my story.

We'll take it from here.|Who do you work for, Miss McGuire?

I work for me. What's it to you?

- How'd you get here before the police?|- I drive faster.

Actually, I've got a police-band radio.|Is that illegal?

- You had no authority to board.|- I was covering a story.

- Did you take any photographs?|- Of course.

That's how I make my living.

So you'll forget about the trespassing,|but you've got to take a look at my film.

Right?

Didn't you bastards ever hear|about the First Amendment?

This is it.

- Got him. I got him. Got his mouth.|- OK.

- Is this how your grandaddy used to do it?|- Are you kidding?

Get down.

Keep him down.

None of this Tonto kind of bullshit.|Next time, I'm doing the roping, OK?

Yeah.

OK.

Impress me.

Get out of here.

We're ready to rock and roll here.

You get that greaser on the phone.

It's all here.

You go for it, babe.

Let him have it.

It's been a pleasure|doing business with you.

The pleasure is all mine.

I don't know, John Eagle.

- He don't look too good.|- They all look like that.

- Then how come he looks so tired?|- Sh*t.

OK.

Matt, wanna give us a hand|loading this sucker?

What will you do when Social Security|find out you're moonlighting?

Ain't found out about my airboat|business. Been doing it for 40 years.

Probably because you haven't made|a profit for 39.

Just give us a hand|loading the damn reptile.

Matt.

You wanna come to dinner tonight?

Got some live ones. Fried, steamed,|barbecued. Your choice.

God, I'm sick of frogs.

I'm not interested.

The company really needs you|this time.

I've heard that story before.|Go to one of the regular agents.

Well, this one is special.

We believe Rostov is in the country.

You should've let me kill him when|I had the chance. Now he's your problem.

Mr Ambassador, welcome to my home.

President.

Not this time, Rostov.

Hunter.

It's time to die.

The dream again?

The nightmare.

We have to kill that bastard|before we begin the operation.

It would mean coming out|into the open, risking everything.

Forget him. It would only distract us|from our purpose here.

I want it done!

He's one man, alone.

What can he do?

You're obsessed.

You only know his reputation.

But I know his work.

They will not tolerate it.

They will just have to now, won't they?

Please, Mikhail.

Leave Hunter alone.

He's not a threat.

As long as he's breathing,|he's a threat.

Matt!

Enough! Enough! It's finished.

Tonight we make history, Nikko.

America has not been invaded by|a foreign enemy in nearly 200 years.

Look at them, Nikko.

Soft.

Spineless decadents.

They don't even understand|the nature of their own freedom

or how we could use it against them.

They are their own worst enemy.

But they don't know it.

Hey, what the hell is that?

Who cares? Race you to the blanket.

That wasn't fair.

Whenever they operate on Liz Taylor,|I'm right outside the door.

Anything she doesn't want...

Throw it over. Son of a gun.

- What has she got on?|- Liberace's underwear.

It fits.

- Chicago!|- Detroit!

Las Vegas!

18 hours from now,

America will be a different place.

Check.

I'll take the assignment.

But remember, I work alone.

Now, if anything goes wrong,|we don't know who you are.

- Yeah, yeah, I know.|- Hunter? Hunter!

- What are you doing?|- Gonna pay the check?

Give me the damn thing.

- At least 20 vehicles, sir, maybe even 40.|- What kind?

The tracks are mostly obliterated,|but we'd say trucks.

- How big?|- All sizes. Fully loaded too.

- No trace of drugs, sir.|- This isn't a drug-smuggling operation.

What is it, sir?

Where were they made?

In the States.|I have the serial numbers.

Contact the DOD surplus sales office.|Start running down the buyer.

- I wanna know where these came from.|- But, sir, these are over 40 years old.

You got your work cut out for you,|don't you?

This is big, real big.

- Did you say something, sir?|- Hey, guys, smile.

Got any words of wisdom|for the press?

Right. Well, let me rephrase it.

You got any idea|what the hell's going on around here?

Hey, cowboy.

Oh, come on, guys.|Give me a break, will you?

- Merry Christmas!|- Merry Christmas!

Daddy, can I put the star up this year?

- No, I'm putting it up.|- You put it up last year.

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