Scarecrows

Hot and hazy weather,

with temperatures reaching into the 90s,

is expected to continue

throughout the weekend

over most of the Southland.

WORZ news time, 12:00.

Good evening, I'm Don Herbert.

Tonight's lead story is the daring

and deadly paramilitary robbery

at Camp Pendleton.

It left three marines dead and

at least nine others critically wounded.

Earlier this evening,

a heavily armed commando unit

held up the payroll office at the base

and fled with $3.5 million.

The robbers exchanged gunfire

with military police

as they raced to a nearby airfield

and then escaped

in a twin-engine cargo plane.

The pilot and his teenage daughter

are believed to be held hostage

on board the Baja Air...

Turn that bloody radio off.

... was hijacked...

It's okay, Daxie. It's okay.

Here, keep it under radar.

You heard the man.

An intensive manhunt is

underway as marine helicopter units

track down the stolen craft

which was reported heading south,

presumably towards the border.

All right, I'll take care of it.

Hey, Roxanne.

- Where's the fire?

- Back here.

- Hey, somebody...

Bert's taking the money!

Stop shooting, Curry.

He tossed a grenade.

F*ck, it's somewhere in here.

I'll kill him.

- Where is it?

- Pull up! Pull up, we're too low!

Hold on.

- The grenade.

- Watch out, it's rolling back.

Jack!

Throw it out!

- The money?

- The money is gone.

Get ready to jump,

we're going after him.

- Where's the money?

- It's gone!

What happened to Bert?

He bailed with the money,

dumb ass.

I saw a house back there

where he jumped.

We'll be back, Bert.

Yeah.

We'll be back, Bert.

The plane? Where's the...

Wait, my grenade exploded.

I heard it.

All right, all right,

put it together.

The money. I was right behind it.

Then it dropped by these crosses,

like a graveyard.

Jesus, a scarecrow.

Bloody scarecrow.

I'll be damned, the graveyard.

The money's got to be there.

All right, the house.

There's gotta be a car or a jeep

or something there I can use.

Where the bloody hell...

Bingo!

My lucky night.

Bingo, my lucky night.

What the hell

is down there, Corbin?

Trees and bushes.

Great, let's find that house again.

That's where he'll go,

the simple f*ck.

I spotted it.

Closing 11 o'clock.

It's the house all right,

looks pretty dead.

Over there.

Hey, Bert, old buddy.

Reading me?

That's right, you no-good, double-crossing,

scum-sucking son of a bitch.

We are alive.

Damn it, I can't believe it.

- Jack, what's wrong?

- I dropped my harmonica.

You can blow Bert's balls off.

Come on, let's find him.

All right, Bert. Now it's personal.

- Bang.

- I'm dead.

By the way, Bert, buddy,

we owe you a live grenade, pal.

We'll nail you up

like one of these scarecrows.

Then we're gonna burn you, Bert,

just like you burned us, motherfucker.

- Hold it, I saw a light.

- Where?

By the house, a car, maybe.

You're crow shit, Bert.

God to Bert,

your birthday's been canceled.

Hey, Corb,

hope you didn't forget your buffalo gun.

- She's right here.

- That's too cruel, man.

That's the gun

with the exploding shells.

And, Bert, this ammo is blessed.

So, when I blow your

ass away, buddy,

every piece of you is

going straight to hell.

Over there, the lights,

they're moving.

Where?

- Come in.

- It's a truck.

Southeast of you. It's gotta be Bert.

Move.

The cornfield.

He's going after the money.

Rox, your transmission's breaking up.

Curry, Jack, come in. Where are you?

Damn it. We're out of range.

Hey, Bert, you dumb f*ck,

there's only one road and we're on it.

This isn't exactly Route 66, is it?

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