Lethal Weapon 3

[Flames roar]

[Sirens blare]

[Tires screech]

Riggs, Homicide.

COP:
Nobody's dead.

RIGGS:
The night's young.

This is Sergeant Murtaugh.

RIGGS:
Threat or scare?

COP:
Real thing.

COP:
He saw the device.

MAN:
It's on Level 1, by the gas pumps.

I wrote the license plate number.

That's okay, sir. Thanks a lot.

RIGGS:
You evacuated the building?

COP:
It's clean.

ROGER:
Where's the bomb squad?

COP:
Coming.

ROGER:
Good. It's under control. Let's go.

I think we ought to check this out.

ROGER:
Riggs?

RIGGS:
What?

- Bomb squad's coming.

- There's no bomb!

- How do you know?

- Because it's a full moon.

Moon, lunar, lunatics. They're everywhere.

RIGGS:
Is that Greek?

ROGER:
No, Latin.

You surprise the shit out of me.

There's no bomb.

It's probably a false alarm.

It happens. He probably saw a radio

on the back seat.

Let's not mess with it.

Wait for the bomb squad.

You're right. You sit tight,

I'll be right back.

What's the matter with you?

- There's a bomb in there!

- No, there's not.

- There's a bomb in there!

- There is not!

There's a bomb in there!

- You know how I know?

- How?

I've got eight days till retirement

and I won't make a stupid mistake.

There is no bomb!

I'll bet vital parts of my anatomy!

RIGGS:
Look.

Trust me. Okay?

That's usually my first mistake.

Hey, Riggs!

ROGER:
Hey, wait. I'm coming.

RIGGS:
Rog?

RIGGS:
Is your insurance paid up?

ROGER:
Of course. Why?

RIGGS:
There could be a bomb in here.

ROGER:
Oh, God!

ROGER:
I hate it when I'm right.

RIGGS:
Learn to trust your instincts more.

ROGER:
Oh, God.

The first impression

can often be the right one.

RIGGS:
Drive shaft...

I wonder if there's a bomb.

Just don't touch it.

Just looking.

[Riggs mutters to himself, bomb beeping]

What are you doing?

Don't open the door! Don't!

[Doorhandle clicks]

Son of a bitch, just look at it.

That's all I'll do, just look.

There's more plastic than Cher.

RIGGS:
I love this job.

This is amateur night.

Open the door. I can't hear you.

RIGGS:
Open the door.

Don't do nothing.

Not that one!

ROGER:
You son of a bitch.

RIGGS:
This is a pretty shonky job.

I can dismantle it.

It looks like Beirut to me. Let's go!

[Thud]

[Roger gasps]

Everybody's outside. Just me, you

and the cat are dumb enough to be here.

Nearly a cat-tastrophe, huh?

- Relax, Rog. Relax.

- Right.

Don't do nothing.

We've got 9 minutes and 7 seconds left.

You know what we can do?

We could drive it out.

Fine, it's your turn to drive.

No keys. I could hot-wire it.

Don't even say "hot-wire"

around this stuff!

You're right.

Why am I doing this? Why?

I'm going to have to do it

the old-fashioned way.

What are you thinking?

ROGER:
What are you thinking?

- I'm thinking we should cut the blue wire.

- Wait!

- That's not what I think.

- You think maybe the red?

No! No!

I'm thinking it's 8 minutes and 42 seconds.

We can go upstairs, wait for

the bomb squad, and have a cappuccino.

The bomb squad never gets here on time.

And it's 8 minutes, 31 seconds.

Rog, please.

Forget the cappuccino.

- You know what they'll say?

- "Get the f*ck out of here!"

But then they'll say: "Let's cut

the blue wire," which I'll do right now.

- Wait, wait!

- What?

How can you be so sure?

It's just a hunch.

A hunch?

Remember the bomb under your toilet?

- How could I forget?

- Red wire, blue wire, same thing.

This is more simplified,

but a bit more powerful.

From where I sat, I couldn't see.

Forget it. Come on, trust me.

Trust you?

Guess not. I'm cutting the red wire, okay?

Ho... ho...

What? What?

A minute ago you said blue!

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