Freezer

Oh, shit.

Son of a bitch.

Oh. Oh.

Oh.

Happy fucking birthday.

Tell me you're the good guys.

What the hell is going on here?

Did my girlfriend put you up to this?

Am I being punked? Huh?

Tu hable ingls?

Cmo se dice,

"I'm freezing my balls, so I

want to get the f*ck out of here"?

Uh, do you speak English?

English? Do you? Do you speak English?

Anybody?

Eh?

Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah.

Oh! Oh.

Yeah.

Okay, I can see that you...

you got a problem with me,

so why don't we... find an interpreter

and we'll just... we'll

just take it outside?

- Okay? Mm -hmm.

Help! Help! This is a mistake.

- Oh!

- Bravo.

Help! Somebody help me!

Help! Help!

I don't know what this is

about, but you got the wrong guy.

Ask the manager. Call the czar.

Find a... a comrade who speaks English.

People know I'm here. My girlfriend's

waiting at our table right now.

My shrimp-fucking-scampi

is getting cold.

I'm supposed to be blowing out

the candles. It's my birthday.

Don't you have any compassion?

Money.

- Money?

- Money.

Money.

- Okay.

- Okay.

My wallet.

You took my goddamn wallet.

There was 400 in cash in there.

You got my credit cards.

Good luck with those.

How... how about ATM?

Huh? We take a drive.

We go to the ATM... A-T-M.

I can...

I can get you more... easy, "Conan. "

So? Let's go.

What... what do you want?

Passwords? My Social?

You want to steal my

identity? You can have it.

Robert "Shit Luck" Saunders.

Have a merry fucking life.

Well, sounds like you two

dildos are working this out.

You can't rush a good

idea, especially if it's...

Nice to meet you.

Let me out of here!

Shit.

You're a shit magnet. Always have been.

Hello?

- Sam?

- What?

Who is this? Is Sam there?

Wrong number. Good bye.

Don't hang up. Stop. You need me.

Why do I need you?

'Cause anyone holding this phone is

in a shitload of trouble. Am I right?

- Maybe.

- Now who are you?

I'm trapped in a freezer,

Cafe Volga, Brighton

Beach Boulevard, Brooklyn.

I found a phone here lying on the floor.

- Are you alone?

- Yeah.

I'm locked in here.

- Who are you?

- Who are you?

NYPD.

You're the police?

I'm starting a trace.

You don't need a trace.

Get someone over here now.

I... I... I'm locked in

a fucking meat locker.

Give me your full name.

Robert James Saunders.

And your Social?

Yeah, right. What kind of scam is this?

Give me the last four digits.

Six-four-three-nine.

- Are you there?

- I'm here.

Are you sure you're a cop?

Detective Al Dorian,

Narcotics, NYPD.

Yeah, well, Detective,

you know, it's... it's

37 degrees in here,

so I hate to complain, but if

you can get here a little quicker,

I'd really appreciate it.

I'm being held captive by two goons.

What do they want?

Money. They keep asking me questions,

but f*ck if I can understand.

They... they took my wallet.

This whole thing is insane.

How did you end up there?

It's my birthday, if you can believe it.

I was having dinner at Cafe

Volga with my girlfriend.

I hear they have a good steak.

Yeah, well, here's a hot tip for

you... stay away from the bathroom.

I was taking a leak and one of

these clowns sucker-punches me.

I saw stars and woke up here.

Who was your date at Volga?

Christina Welch,

28, red hair, hot as hell,

sitting at a deuce by

the bar. Can't miss her.

Christina. I'll have someone speak

with her if she's still there.

She'll know exactly how

long you've been missing.

The name Sam Gurov mean anything to you?

- No.

- You sure?

Yeah, I'm sure. Why?

As of now, he is missing

and you're holding his phone.

Can you describe the

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