James Ltd. ☆☆★☆☆
[MAN SPEAKING OVER RADIO]
--issued a series of clarifications of several of the president's statements...
...at his nationally televised news conference last night.
In addition to responding to an abortion question...
... with a three-minute answer about taxes...
...and confusing his attorney general with his chief of staff...
... the president forgot Hawaii is a state...
...referring to it as "one of our strongest allies in the Pacific."
A spokesman explained that the president...
...had been thrown off by the intensity of the previous question.
And finally, FBI agents have arrested Air Force Sgt. Michael Prescott...
...in connection with a plot to sell weapon secrets to a foreign government.
Prescott was arrested last night in a Staten Island supermarket.
In weather, the city remains in the grip of a cold spell.
Central Park temperature dropped to 36 degrees overnight.
The current midtown temperature at 6:59 is a brisk 39 degrees.
Next news and weather again at 8:00.
Now back to the hits on New York's "more music" station.
[POP MUSIC PLAYING ]
How about some heat?
I'm not an Eskimo.
Hey, Mr. Finzi, how you doing, man? Looking good! Looking good.
-Gotcha! -Gotcha. All right.
MAN: Miss Terry, good morning. -Good morning.
-How you doing? I want a tulip. -Tulip.
MAN: Morning.
Good morning.
Morning, Terry.
Larry, Larry, Larry! You get any closer, honey, you're gonna be a father.
You dog.
LARRY: Dog's job.
Welcome to the boredom capital of the world.
-Morning, Mr. Page. -Morning, Fred.
Good morning, Mr. Page. Looking good. Nice suit.
I don't get it.
God!
Forty goddamn people in the office, the man's gotta pick on me.
Can't even say good morning.
-Good morning. -Good morning.
-So did you sleep well last night? -Yeah, aside from freezing my ass off.
-I didn't. -Really? Again?
-Okay, give. -A very nice man.
His name was Richard.... Something Italian. Anyway, he used to be a doctor.
Still would be if he had smarter lawyers.
Richard-something-ltalian? Monday, it was Nick-something-Greek.
I liked him very much, but you have to set high goals for yourself.
-Let's face it, he was no ex-doctor. -Ex-doctors do not grow on trees.
-Hi, Karen. -Oh, thanks for fixing my monitor.
You can make fun of me all you like, but at least I am out there...
...I'm making an effort. You won't meet anybody by sitting home....
-Morning ladies. -Dougie!
-Terry! -Dougie!
-Terry! -Hey!
Hey, ready to saddle up, ride the wild software?
Hey, Cynthia. You know that guy you were with at Cole's last night?
-Yeah. -I saw him on 60 Minutes doing this:
"No pictures, no comments. "
Doug, that's so amusing.
-Why do you do this to her? -He knows it drives me up the wall.
I do it because you fall for it.
He's shopping at Walgreens. He's got his Brut collection.
-At least I'm always ready for the ladies. -Hey, man, try some soap.
I did. It got lonely.
Sick. You're sick. Okay.
Confirm transfer to First National.
[SPEAKlNG IN FRENCH]
TERRY: Bonjour, Jean-Claude.
Bonjour, Terry.
Look at this. He says, "Bonjour. What's the skinny?"
Am I teaching him, or am I teaching him?
-"What's the skinny?" -What's the skinny?
-What's the skinny? What's the buzz? -Oh, yeah, I knew what it was.
TERRY: How did everything work out with Paulette?
"Made love all weekend"? God, I gotta meet this guy.
You shouldn't chitchat. You're gonna get in trouble.
Terry!
False alarm.
TERRY: I knew it. This is code for, "Terry, come adjust my chair. "
Now, you're gonna have this baby. It's gonna have a head like the monitor.
It's gonna say "Sperry" across the top of it, and you know--
There she is, Miss Russian Aerobics!
TERRY: Oh, not again.
-This is the third time this week. -Russian TV piped into Terry's monitor.
Every time I turn around, this chick is on my monitor.
CYNTHIA: I hate to see a woman like that.
FRED: What a woman.
-Larry, your girlfriend's here. FRED: Don't tell him. He'll defect.
DOUG: Is that a woman? WOMAN: I wish I could do that.
-I'm not gonna watch. -Look at that nick on her leg!
Don't shave with a sickle, baby.
Cut it out. Turn my knobs, please.
FRED: She'd crush bowling balls between those thighs.
-I'm getting seriously aroused here. -The shielding on the I/O port is loose.
-How's that? -I don't know how you know to do that.
It's like an electrical gift.
FRED: I know where all our wheat went.
Aw!
It's almost time for Leave It to Brezhnev.
No, it's time for Gilligan's Gulag.
Terry.
-Mr. Page would like to see you. -Uh-oh.
Well, I'm standing right here. It's not like he could miss me.
MR. PAGE: Miss Doolittle, in my office right now.
CYNTHIA: She fixed it. WOMAN: What's she in trouble for?
I can accept certain of your eccentricities...
...because you're one of my most productive employees.
Thank you, Mr. Page.
However, these are your printouts for last week.
How would you define your job here, Miss Doolittle?
To transfer funds, accept transfer of funds...
...between international banking establishments...
...using the computer so that the transferred funds are easily called upon.
How were you taught to end a transmission?
-I enter the phrase, "end trans." -And yet look here.
Look how you ended your transmission to Mr. Dennis Bramlett...
...of Barclays Bank of London last week.
"Dennis, will trade you my Springsteen bootleg for your Moot the Hoople. "
Mott the Hoople. He's a Springsteen fan. I entered "end trans. "
And then there's Mr. loto of the Hansu Tokyo Bank.
I believe this is a recipe for a Yankee pot roast.
A man gets tired of raw fish all the time.
And I'm not even going to begin to discuss your advice to Jean-Claude.
Perhaps I should call you Dr. Ruth!
-Mr. Page, I was trying to be friendly. -Computers are not friendly.
-I'm not a computer, Mr. Page. -From 9 to 6, five days a week, you are.
You'll represent this bank professionally, or you will not represent it at all!
End trans?
End trans.
Hi, Fritz. How is the missus?
-Delete, delete... DOUG: Six o'clock!
-...delete, delete, delete, delete.... -Karen!
FRED: Enjoy your party, dreamboat.
-Call us when the baby comes. -Jackie, good luck with your baby.
Fred and I chipped in most for your present.
TERRY: End trans.
JACKIE: Well, I won't miss you.
FRED: Karen, we'll see you later at Cole's.
Could you tell my replacement I ordered another chair?
And it should be in by the end of the month.
Sure.
-Thanks for everything, Terry. -Oh, come on, don't cry.
Come on.
Hey, now, wipe your eyes, huh? Makeup's running.
People gonna think somebody hit you in the eye, girl.
Where's the party, baby? I'm waddling over.
Right behind you.
You waddle on in. I'll be waddling on in myself.
[COMPUTER BEEPS]
CYNTHIA: Speaking of bows.... KAREN: It's beautiful.
She'll know this is a stroller.
Come here, come here. Wait, wait, wait. Look, look.
WOMAN: Heidi, get your present.
-What is that? One of your friends? -No, no. They all know I go down by 6.
I bet it's Mr. Page. He's testing you, yeah.
He sent that message from upstairs. Now he's lurking behind his monitor...
...waiting for you to give him an answer.
"Jumping Jack Flash" does not sound like Mr. Page.
He's more your Don Ho type.
Terry, you do not need any more trouble. It defeats your own purpose.
-I'll be there in a second. -Then we'll go to Cole's?
-Yes. I promise. -All right. Now, hurry!
It's a gas, gas, gas.
"Are you alone?"
Well...
...yeah.
"Need to talk." Oh, man, come on.
Personal chitchat is prohibited...
...on the international bank transponder.
What do you mean, you're not on it? Well, how the hell are you transmitting?
"Clamshell terminal. Can't say anymore. This channel unsecured."
Whoa.
[WOMEN LAUGHING]
Scramble for privacy. Give me your code key.
"Jumping Jack Flash." No, no, no, no! Your code key, not your handle.
"Sing with me and find the key. Tomorrow, 7 p.m.
I need you."
"Yankee pot-- Yankee pot roast was delicious."
You son of a bitch! You've been monitoring my transmissions.
Hey, Flash.
Yo!
Shit!
CYNTHIA: Hurry up! She's unwrapping the stroller!
[VOICES SPEAKING OVER TV]
MAN: I learned something tonight. I learned how much I love you.
WOMAN: You told me that a year ago, and you let me go.
You let me marry him. You never even phoned.
-If you'd asked me to forgive you-- -I was stupid.
I didn't know then that love was anything more than a charming scene.
I didn't know it was something...
... that could tear at your heart and burn through the greasepaint.
My darling, you're coming along with me tomorrow. Brazil.
We'll stay there until he gives you a divorce.
And then....
Then we'll get married.
Married?
-You? -Yes, me.
I need you, and I've got to pay for you.
[SIREN WAILING]
Shoot.
All right, Jack.
You win.
"Sing with me and find the key."
Maybe it's in the lyrics of the song.
Here's the Marvin Gaye tape.
This is it.
The Rolling Stones.
[THE ROLLING STONES' "JUMPIN' JACK FLASH" PLAYS]
Born in a column by Herb Caen-- No, not "in a column by Herb Caen. "
Crossfire hurricane!
Driving rain!
[SlNGlNG ]
But it's all right now
Damn, Mick, this is the only thing anybody can sing.
But it's all right
Jumpin' Jack Flash is a gas, gas, gas
Jagger, step. On the replay.
I was raised by two lesbians. No, wait.
Two lesbians? Come on, Mick.
Fuck a duck!
I was crowned...
...with a spike through my head?
This has got some weird-ass lyrics!
I was drowned in a four, five city hag.
Mick, Mick, Mick, speak English!
MR. PAGE: Miss Doolittle. -Oh, Mr. Page.
What are you doing? Communicating with pals?
Recipes? More advice to the sexually inadequate?
Oh, no. You know, we've been so backlogged since Jackie left...
...I thought I'd catch up on her British deposits.
-Really? Well, color me so surprised. -Oh, you're so witty.
-May I see these transactions--? -Look!
I've got to have that promotion.
I've gotta have it. Mr. Page, oh, please.
Miss Doolittle, grab ahold of yourself.
-Mr. Page? -Yes.
-Can I go home now? -Yes, go home. By all means, go home.
-Mrs. Milsap is watching. -Please!
You'll get that promotion provided you keep working this way.
I'm proud of this effort you're putting in. Lisa, I'll walk with you.
LISA: Walk with Larry.
You go home, Mr. Page. I don't want you to see me like this no more.
Go, Mr. Page. Go to the wife and kiddies.
Good night.
Right on time.
Okay, let's break this mother.
Crossfire.
See, I didn't think it was crossfire. I know it's hurricane.
Rain? No.
Gas?
Toothless?
Back? Bearded?
Howled?
Okay, how about Copyright 1968 ABKCO Music Inc.?
Oh, I give this up because now you pissed me off.
Okay, think. I'm a Stone fan, he's a Stone fan.
So it has to be something that says Stones.
Drugs.
Okay. Let's talk.
What about the women? Bianca. What about Jerry Hall?
What's her name? What's her name? Marianne Faithfull.
What else? What else? Jagger? Not his ass.
His lips.
Okay.
Tongue.
Goddamn!
Altamont.
Shit!
I don't have time to waste like this.
It's not like I got nothing else to do, you know?
I got you now.
I got you, man. I did not flunk out of chorus for nothing.
B-Flat.
You know I'm right.
Yes! Kicking ass! Get it, get it, get it! Terry! Terry!
[SCREAMING]
Yes!
[SINGING INDISTINCTLY]
B-motherfucking-flat! This is like acid on Sunday.
Come on, now.
Knew I could do it, huh? You son of a bitch.
Did I pass the test?
"You're smart. That'll help. "
Who are you?
"Must be brief. Destroy all copies of transmission.
Do not reveal code key to any--"
Who am I gonna tell the code key to?
Why all the mystery? "Am in serious trouble."
What kind of trouble?
And is it gonna visit my house?
"Could you deliver message to the British Consulate?"
Think they're gonna let me in the door?
"Need your help.
Ask for Department C.
Would be grateful if you said yes." What's the message?
"Dog's barking. Can't fly without umbrella."
Are you shitting me? Come on.
I'm not saying that.
I can't go to some damn consulate and talk about dogs. Are you kid--?
MAN 1: There you are. I'm so sorry I'm late.
MAN 2: What are you doing? There's a million mannequins in the basement.
MAN 1: We have a lot of balls.
So, what's going on here?
Oh, we're getting ready for the Queen's Anniversary Ball next Monday.
Miss Doolittle? I'm Jeremy Talbot. Sorry to have kept you waiting.
RECEPTIONIST: The British Consulate. May I help you?
Come here.
Dog's barking. Can't fly without umbrella.
Excuse me?
-Dog's bark-- -Yes, I heard you.
-But I don't quite follow. -Aren't you from Department C?
No, I'm not.
You need to get somebody down here from Department C. They'd understand.
I'm afraid we don't have a Department C, Miss Doolittle.
You do! I asked the receptionist.
I told her I had a message for Department C.
She got on the phone, and then you showed up.
Who was the message from?
Jumping Jack Flash.
What?
-Jumping Jack Flash. -Jumping Jack Flash?
Shh! You know him, right?
"It's a gas, gas, gas." Rolling Stones. I am English.
Jeremy? Are we still on for squash this afternoon?
-Absolutely, 5:00. -Super.
I'm sorry I couldn't be more help.
I feel awfully dumb, Mr. Talbot. I'm sorry I wasted your time.
-Someone thought this was funny. -Of course. Gillian.
Hmm.
[CAMERA SHUTTER CLICKING]
Pressing that cancels the input buffer line but leaves the template intact.
-Fred, you're so smart. -Yes.
Smell me.
What? What, what, what, what?
-I said, smell me. -Oh, God, do I have to?
I met this guy, and he distributes all these seconds and irregulars.
There's no such thing as perfume irregulars.
Very humorous.
My point is that this guy has a friend, and--
Afternoon, ladies.
My point is this guy has a friend. They want to take us out to dinner tonight.
Tonight? Tonight, I can't.
-I'm already involved with someone. -What do you mean?
-With who? Who is he? -Oh, he's just a guy.
I don't know that much about him. I know that he likes the Stones.
-He's something of a practical joker. -That's so great!
What am I gonna do?
It's a package deal.
Attention, please. I would like you to join me...
...in welcoming a new member of our family:
-Mr. Martin Phillips. -Marty.
-Who is replacing... -Hi, Marty.
...Miss Jackie Valentine at terminal number 23.
He comes from our Silver Springs office. Welcome to the main branch.
Thank you, Mr. Page.
-Seems like a pretty loose guy. -Oh, yeah.
-That's my card. Feel free to call me. -Thanks.
-Hi. -Hi.
I'm Marty Phillips. My card. Feel free to call me anytime.
Terry Doolittle, and I will.
-Don't sit! -Oh!
KAREN: Is he hurt? -He fell.
-Are you all right? -Is this an initiation?
I was supposed to tell you this was the chair that the pregnant girl sat in.
-It's adjusted for her. -I should thank her for the job.
Have a seat. I'll adjust the chair for you.
-Just don't lean back. -Okay.
-Hi. -Hi.
-Hi, I'm Cynthia. -Cynthia, I'm Marty.
Anything you need, just pick up the phone.
Really? I just might do that.
I'd like to say that it's a pleasure to welcome you to our little family.
Oh, I see you already have a little family.
Well, shit.
Welcome anyway.
Cute girls.
-Yeah, it's too bad they're boys. -There she is again!
DOUG: Wait, wait, wait, wait. Wait for me.
She doesn't do it for me anymore.
KAREN: Do strong women threaten you? DOUG: No, they just beat me up.
-Come on. -What is that?
Soviet TV uses the same satellite as this capitalist pig bank.
Lenin would have a stroke.
Adjust my knobs.
No! I wouldn't adjust that. That's delicate technology.
That should only be adjusted by skilled technicians.
Excuse me.
MAN: What's going on? Nothing's going on.
Oh, yeah, this one girl Terry, she's working late.
I don't know. I guess she wants a raise or something.
No. She talks to herself all the time.
There you are. Jesus, thank God.
All right.
Jack?
Okay, pal, is this a big joke?
"What did consulate say?" What did it say?
Consulate said, "No Department C."
"Whom did you talk to?" Oh, I just love your accent.
Jeremy Talbot. Says he didn't know you.
But I have a feeling that he did.
"Situation confusing. " No shit!
What exactly is the situation?
"Trapped in Eastern Europe. Need exit."
What about your passport?
Who are you, Jack?
"British Intellig--"?
Why didn't you contact the consulate yourself?
"Did. Won't acknowledge me." Why?
"Excellent question."
What else can I do?
"Need other con--" Are you crazy? Other contacts? I work in a bank.
Who?
"First go to my apartment in New York and get something for me."
God. What do you need, a trench coat? A camera? Microfilm!
Oh, what?
"A frying pan."
I'd have probably thought about that next.
Hey! You Miss Doolittle?
Don't be sneaking up on people like that.
Sorry. It's been a long day. I'm your Sperry repairman.
-I'm here to check out your terminal. -Oh.
Didn't mean to scare you.
-You're here a little late. -I'm running behind.
I need a little of that overtime action.
-Nothing's wrong with my terminal. -No?
Well, I got a report that there was.
-What's wrong with it? -Oh, I don't know.
Probably some kind of short, chip, something.
Well, I'd feel a lot better if nobody messed with it.
Come on. I've been traveling for two hours.
I can appreciate that fully, but--
Weren't you about to leave?
You don't mind if I just call Sperry? I mean, just to check it out.
-No. Go ahead. It's your dime. -Okay.
Ah, ah, ah! Don't mess with it.
Hi, this is Terry Doolittle down at First National.
Who is this, Clovis? Clovis, I got a guy here who says you sent him down.
Yeah, let me ask him. Say, what's your--?
My mistake. Sorry.
TERRY: 153. Pull over here.
I'll only be a couple of minutes.
Sure. As long as the meter's running.
Key's in the hydrant, just like he said.
Hello?
Anybody here?
Wow.
Nice pad!
I'm not stealing anything. I got a key from Jack.
Hello?
This is great.
You know this cat don't have no roaches.
God.
Maybe I ought to go into the spy business.
Nice system.
[ROCK MUSIC BLARING]
Oh, Jesus!
[PHONE RINGING]
It's the phone. It's just the phone.
[MAN SPEAKING OVER ANSWERING MACHINE]
This is Jack. Sorry to miss you. Leave your name, number...
...and I'll get back to you soon as possible.
And if you'd like to leave a message, that would be good too. Okay, bye.
-So that's what you sound like. JACK: Oh, I'm sorry.
Don 't forget to wait for the beep, will you?
It's a fairly long space, but it's coming soon.
[BEEPING]
[WOMAN SPEAKING WITH FRENCH ACCENT]
Jacques, it's me again. You shit! I'm sick of this machine! Forget it.
Jack, I wouldn't go with any woman who called me a sheet.
No, no, I won't.
No, this is the man's private property. I mean....
Fuck it.
[TAPE REWINDING]
MAN 1: Jack, this is Curt from Sport Motors. Car's ready.
We put in new brakes, and replaced the radio.
Call when you wanna pick it up.
"Sarah. Sinai, '82. "
MAN 2: Jack, it's Allen.
Look, I got tickets for the Knicks game tomorrow and--
JACK: Wait, Allen. Hang on. I'm here.
ALLEN: You're screening your calls? JACK: Yeah, let me switch this off.
WOMAN: Hi, Jack. It's Liz. I'm worried about Harry, okay? Please call.
[CREAKING]
In the oven! It's not here! Oh!
MAN 3: Jack, there's trouble. Call me.
FRENCH WOMAN: Jacques, it's me again.
You shit! I'm sick of this machine! Forget it!
Go, go! Let's go, let's go!
[SCREAMING]
Shut up!
Sit back, relax. The meter is off.
Okay, let's see.
"Harry Carlson, Archer Lincoln, Peter Caen, Mark Van Meter."
I'm supposed to call these guys?
Oh, shit.
Oh.
Okay.
First up, Peter Caen.
553-31 82.
WOMAN: Peter Caen residence. -Hello, is Peter Caen in?
No, this is his service. May I take a message?
Yes, my name is Terry Doolittle. He can reach me at 555--
[CLATTERING]
-555, yes? -7532.
-7532. Thank you. -Okay.
[CATS HISSING AND MEOWING]
Fucking cats.
MAN: Hello?
-Is this Mr. Van Meter? -Yes.
My name is Terry Doolittle. I have a message...
-...from Jumping Jack Flash. -I can meet in 20 minutes.
Is it possible to do this in the morning? I've had the most amazing night.
I'm leaving for Brussels on a 3 a.m. flight.
-I think we should meet tonight. -Okay. Where?
This is great. This is great.
I mean, I'm down here 1:30 in the morning, on the docks!
I should just pin a $ 100 bill to my ass and scream:
"Victim here! Victim here!" Don't complain. Shut up, okay?
VAN METER: A wise idea. -You're right.
[GUN COCKS]
Oh, shit.
[SCREAMING]
I apologize, Miss Doolittle. Procedure.
But you understand, of course.
-M-- Mr. Van Meter? -Van Meter.
-Yeah, yeah. -Very nice of you to meet me here.
-Thanks, thanks. -You know the business.
You scared me! Jesus, man, do the world a favor!
Get yourself an office with a desk and a lamp!
Let's walk.
-Okay, who do you work for? -First National Bank.
-I don't mean your cover, your boss. -James Page. Anal. Polyester king.
So Page is Jack's contact?
He's the schmuck I work for at the bank.
I work in the money transfer room, man. I work on a computer.
You mean you're a civilian? You don't know anything about this?
I don't know dick about this!
Except some guy calling himself Jumping Jack Flash taps into my computer!
Tells me to go to his house and get a frying pan...
...call Van Halen, Van Morrison, I don't know. Van Meter!
-Right, but you got a message. -Yes, I got a message.
And I took it over to the British Consulate. I talked to Mr. Talbot.
-This guy looked at me like I was crazy! -What was the message?
"Dog's barking. Can't fly without umbrella. " It's silly, I know.
I pray to God he's still alive.
No, no. I just talked to him tonight.
I mean....
-You're being melodramatic, aren't you? -I'm not.
I'm sorry you got this involved.
I couldn't help it. The guy was all alone.
Didn't wanna leave him. How often does a girl like me...
...get involved with something like this? It's on my computer.
I was thinking to myself-- You're moving awfully quickly.
Mr. Van Meter, are you trying to catch a plane? Mr. Van Meter?
[SCREAMING]
Mr. Van Meter?
Mr. Van Meter? Mr. Van Met--?
Ooh! Ooh! Ooh, ooh, ooh!
[SIRENS WAILING]
TERRY: There's a dead man floating in the river!
Tell me again.
If you'd stop picking your teeth, you could hear what I say.
-Get the facts. -What happened?
I told them not to call anyone. They found your card in my pocket.
-You're wet. -Really, Marty?
God, you're so perceptive!
-You know her? -I work with her.
She nuts?
We found her screaming, soaking wet, waving down cars near Battery Park.
-What happened? -Fell in the river.
I told you, I didn't fall in the river, I was thrown!
-By your pimp, your john? -What is it with you people?
Every black woman has to have a pimp?
You think there's work on the pier for hookers?
You think I'm giving blowjobs to goldfish?
-Is she on some kind of medication? -Not that I know of.
-Are you on medication? -Marty!
-You can talk directly to me, asshole. -Watch your mouth.
There is a dead man floating around in the river.
I think it's time to go home now.
We sent a car down there, lady. Look who I'm calling "lady."
-We found nothing. Nothing, nothing! -Well, drag the river!
There are killers running around the fucking city!
How would you like me to wash your mouth with a wire brush?
How'd you like if I kick you in the nuts so hard...
...that they get lodged in your fucking nostrils?
My, that's a vivid image, isn't it? Officer, look, here's my card.
I'll be responsible for her, I promise.
-You better get her to a doctor. -There's nothing wrong with me...
-...dumb motherfucker! -That's the word I don't like.
-It's Tourette's syndrome! -Book her for disturbing the peace.
It's an illness. People can't stop swearing.
She has it bad. Really, this is sweet talk for her.
-Son of a bitch! MARTY: Tourette's.
-Look up Tourette's syndrome. -You are a dumb fucker!
What, are you some kind of fucking reject from Barney Miller?
I don't understand. I don't get this.
This is rose hips with zinc. Drink this.
How is it possible that a man could be brutally murdered...
...and it not appear in the paper?
It wasn't in the paper on Saturday. It wasn't in the paper on Sunday.
-Not even in today's paper. -Maybe you ought to forget about it.
Bless you.
Forget about it? You weren't there. You didn't see that man float past me.
-What's his name again? -Van Meter.
Look, Alexander's is having a sale on toaster ovens.
You weren't looking in the obituaries.
Marty, you're a prince.
MAN: It's the little things that ease our life. And so are you.
Mark Van Meter was a great success in the greeting-card business.
But he was a greater success as a human being.
His tragic death from a heart attack...
...should remind us all of how precious life is.
Miss Doolittle. Hello.
-Small world. -Indeed.
-You were a friend of Mr. Van Meter? -Oh, yes, he saved my life.
In Jesus Christ, our Lord, amen.
-Look, we-- -Nice to see you.
MAN 1: A lovely service. MAN 2: Should we go?
MAN 1: A wonderful man. MAN 3: It's good you're here.
-Excuse me. Are you Terry Doolittle? -Who wants to know?
I'm Liz Carlson. You called my husband, Harry.
Oh, yeah. Harry Carlson, on the frying pan, yeah.
You said you had a message from Jack, but my husband's with Jack.
Uh, let's talk.
-Are you CIA? -Who, me?
No! No, no, I work in a bank. I work on a computer.
Suddenly I got involved in this, and I'm not sure how to get out of it.
Well, maybe I could help you.
The last guy that tried to help me, you know, Mr. Van Meter, he ended up dead.
Excuse me, ladies. Liz, Miss Doolittle.
Am I wearing a nametag? Who is this?
That's Archer Lincoln.
That's Archer Lincoln? He's on the back of the frying pan too. See you later.
Hey! Hey!
You've gotta talk to me. I've tried to call you for days.
We'll have lunch any day you want!
I got a message from a good friend! You schmuck!
Bye.
TERRY: Would you please tell me what is going on?
Well, don't quote me, but obviously somebody is trying to scare you...
-...into giving them Jack's code key. -Well....
They're doing an awfully good job of it. Come on, Liz, who is it?
KGB probably.
GIRL: You little brat! Look what you did to my sweater!
The KGB? The K-motherfucking-GB?
-Stop. -It looks great on you.
Stop that right now!
Harry Jr. ! Look at your face! For heaven's sake!
-Just put the icing on the cake... -Liz.
-...not on your sister's new sweater!
-Liz! Liz! Liz! KGB! -Not in front of the kids!
-Can I write KGB on the cake? -No, you may not.
JACK: Peter Caen? -Unavailable.
-Archer Lincoln? -Him. Uncooperative.
-Harry Carlson? -Harry Carlson.
I thought he was with you. That's what his wife said.
Was. Lost contact. Thought he was homesick.
He never made it.
Have another favor to ask.
You have another favor to ask? Of course, you wouldn't ask me was I hurt?
Did they scare me? Was the water shitty? No.
-You say, "Have another favor to ask." -Never mind.
Favor too dangerous.
Just like a man.
-What's the favor? -Would you go back to the consulate?
Sure, no problem. They let me in all the time.
Whom would I talk to this time?
Their computer. It has exit contacts.
-Can you handle it? -Yeah, I think I can handle it. I'll try.
I think the Queen's Anniversary Ball is tonight. You think I could crash it?
Could try. Do you have a dinner jacket?
Christ, he thinks I'm a man.
Will have to wear evening dress. Terry happens to be short for Teresa.
-Had no idea. -I know you didn't know.
Will try alternate contacts. Could not ask you to continue.
Why are you saying that? Because I'm a woman?
-Correct. Thanks for all your help. -Scumbag!
I risked my life, and this guy tells me he doesn't...
...believe in me, because I'm a woman! What an asshole!
Terry?
-Terry? -What? No, no, forget it!
-Terry! -What?
-I know you're there. -You know, you--
You want help or not? Because I got better things to do...
-...than to save your butt, bud! -I'm sorry.
It's okay.
-I mean it. -No, I know you mean it. Forget it.
I mean it.
I swear, you don't stop, dude. Just forget it!
Okay. Here's what I need you to do.
First, imperative to have invitation for admittance to the ball.
Try to be inconspicuous. Second....
MAN: I hired the car for 6. You weren't ready till 6:20.
The car was on time. You were 20 minutes late. What do you expect?
Christopher! Kiss, kiss, hugs, hugs.
GILLIAN: Sir Hensley, Lady Hensley, good evening.
WOMAN: Hold the coat. MAN: I am.
-Kristine De laGrange. -Of course.
-I'd like to go home now. -We're not going home now.
-I'd really like to go home right now! -Please try and be decent.
-Your invitation, please. -I don't have one.
Well, I'm sorry, but we can't let you in without an invitation.
-You look awfully familiar. -That's because I'm the entertainment.
[THE SUPREMES' "YOU CAN'T HURRY LOVE" PLAYS]
MAN: How on earth?
[LIP SYNCHING LYRICS]
Oh.
Stupid!
[BALLROOM MUSIC PLAYS]
That was very good.
-I don't believe it! Leslie! -Come along, darling.
-You're embarrassed. -I'm behind you in slippery shoes.
[SPEAKING INDISTINCTLY] [WOMAN WHINING]
-You're getting very shrill. WOMAN: You total bastard, Leslie.
[SPEAKING INDISTINCTLY]
I'm sorry, there was nothing I could do. She grabbed my arm.
-Leslie, you're dribbling. LESLIE: What?
WOMAN: We've got to get in the receiving line to be introduced.
Excuse me. We must shake hands now. Good to meet you.
MAN 1: How do you do?
MAN 2: Excuse me. TERRY: Hi.
Yes?
I don't think....
Terry?
LIZ: Lord Malcolm, may I-- -Elizabeth.
May I present my.... My cousin.
-By marriage. -Lady Sarah.
How do you do?
You know, I can't get over the feeling we've met before.
No, I'm quite sure I would remember you.
Wasn't it the Sinai, 1982?
Yes, it's true I was in the Sinai very briefly in 1982 in the summer.
Well, I simply wanted to say you look as wonderful now as you did then.
Your 'ships. Get me out of here. Get me--
Extraordinary friends you have, darling.
-How do you know Sarah? -Her picture's in Jack's apartment.
-It says "Sarah. Sinai, 1982." -Yeah, they used to be...
-...an item a few years ago. -Really?
That was before she decided to become a lady.
I think she just couldn't quite take the insecurity of life with Jack.
Right now I can appreciate that.
Hey, I gotta get up to the third floor.
How can I help you?
-Here I go. -Good luck.
[SPEAKING IN FRENCH]
Thank you. Thank you so much. Excuse me.
-Well, well, Miss Doolittle! -Mr. Talbot.
What an Anglophile you are, turning up at all the auspicious occasions.
-Like Cinderella at her first ball. -Let's honor Her Majesty with a dance.
I don't dance, Mr. Talbot.
-Heard any more from Mr. Flash? -May I cut in?
Of course.
-Good evening. -You're a beautiful dancer.
-I couldn't resist. -Thank you.
[VOICES SPEAKING INDISTINCTLY OVER TV]
MAN: Oh, God, Benny Hill.
TALBOT: She can't just have disappeared.
Why am I wearing sequins tonight?
Oh, please, God, don't let me die.
Great, great! Crap! Oh, shit!
-What was that? -Don't know.
Don't look down! Damn!
Fucking dress!
MAN 1: The frock could cover the queen mum.
ANNOUNCER: Don't go away. Benny and the gang will be back.
-Right. Now, where's Nina? -Don't shoot.
[BEEPING]
Your turn this time.
Let me know what I've missed.
Come on. Come on, don't tell me this bloody machine isn't working. Ah!
Same old readouts every time.
MAN 1: Hey, come on. You're gonna miss it. Come on.
MAN 2: All right, I'm coming. MAN 1: You can't believe this.
MAN 2: Well, another spy bites the dust.
Oh, God!
What's that?
Nothing.
Not the crotch! Not the crotch! Oh, oh, oh!
Whoa!
Oh, Christ!
I don't know.
You're not gonna get me and my dress, you piece of shit.
You-- Shit! Shit!
Excuse me.
Could you?
[PLAYS BRITISH NATIONAL ANTHEM]
TERRY: Can't believe I fit in at the ball, and some asshole on the street...
...thinks I'm a transvestite. Jeez, these shoes hurt.
I gotta explain this dress to Cynthia.
I'll just tell her I slammed it in a taxi door or something.
God!
Fuck!
[FOOTSTEPS]
I think I just broke every little bone in my wrist.
You scared me, Marty! You asshole!
Look, I called you at 11, at 12, at 1. I promised that policeman...
-...I would be responsible. -Who are you, Rona Barrett?
-Damn, you scared me! I'm fine! -Well, I'm not.
-I'm gonna have to have this x-rayed. -Shit!
Am I just a square, or is there something wrong with your dress?
I got moths.
Big, mutant, junkie moths.
Jesus, Terry.
Dead guy, cops. You got your apartment trashed.
-What are you getting involved in? -I'm...
-...winging it. -Oh, you're winging it.
Yes, I'm winging it, Marty!
-That's great! -Well, thank you.
Terry--
TERRY: And now, live and in person...
...right here in the First National Bank...
...we present to you Blind Terry Doolittle.
[SINGING]
I want me a Jack
I want him come back
He's taking his time
I'm busting my behind
JACK: Terry? Terry. -Oh, shit! Sorry.
Sorry, Jack.
I get a little carried away sometimes sitting in this dumb bank.
-Did you make it, Terry? -Are you crazy? Of course I made it, yes.
-You're wonderful. -I know.
It's time to get your ticket home, kiddo.
[BEEPING]
We're in, we're in!
Request Anglo-American operatives file number 114171280.
Exit procedures: Eastern zone, number 49.
What's my contact?
Way to go, way to go.
Shit.
Terry.
-Terry, what happened? -What happened? I don't know.
-Maybe they caught us. -They must have.
-Now what? -It's over. Impossible to exit.
-All doors closed. -What are you talking about?
-Get out of here. -Thanks, but we're no longer safe.
-Neither of us. -Oh, no, Jack.
I'll think of something. Don't do this to me now.
Talk to me tomorrow. I'll think of something. I swear to God.
Jack?
Jack, Jack!
Jack. Confirm, confirm. Jack, come on!
Confirm that you are crazy and confirm 7 p.m. tomorrow. Please be careful.
TERRY: I know it's one of these houses. Pull up there.
No, right there, yeah.
Okay, look. You need to stay here and wait for me.
Just wait. I haven't had luck with you guys.
DRIVER: Okay, I'm here, baby. I ain't going nowhere.
Liz.
Hey, Liz!
Liz?
Oh, shit.
Where the fuck is the taxi? Oh, Jesus.
[ENGINE REVS]
I got Mace. I got Mace in my pocket.
-Mr. Lincoln would like to talk to you. -I don't want to talk to no Lincoln.
Get your hands off me! What are you doing?
Hello, Miss Doolittle. I thought we'd go for a little ride.
Well, I've seen this movie before, and I'm not-- I'm gonna stay here.
LINCOLN: I just want to talk. Don't be frightened, Miss Doolittle.
-Miss Doolittle, please. -All right.
Where is Liz Carlson?
The company has moved her to a new home, given her a new name, a new life.
You trying to cop a feel?
-Get your fucking hands off me. -Stupid.
-And where is Jack? -Calm down and get in.
Thank you.
TERRY: What company? What's the name of it?
LINCOLN: It's the CIA.
Now look here, Mr. Lincoln. What happened to Harry Carlson?
-Harry Carlson is dead. -What do you mean, he's dead?
-"Dead" dead? And what about Jack? -What about him?
You know what I'm talking about! You just gonna let him sit there?
-You got a strange retirement plan. -Would you like a lesson in espionage?
-From you? No! -Well, I'm gonna give you one anyhow.
-Do you know what a pawn is? -It's a shrimp.
That's a prawn.
-A pawn-- -Is the smallest piece in chess.
And the most expendable. The ones you sacrifice.
Jack and I have been friends for many, many years.
And Jack knew it could come to this going in.
So let me give you a little bit of advice.
Amateur night, Miss Doolittle, is over.
Get off the stage before you get carried off.
Archer Lincoln.
I don't know about him.
Eh. Good guy.
MARTY: What are you doing? -What?
-What are you doing? -Hi, Marty.
-I'm just typing up my Christmas list. -Am I on it?
-Yeah, right. I got you on it. -Don't tell me, don't tell me.
Talbot. Repairman.
Good guys.
Me.
Van Meter. Dead but good.
Jack.
Liz Carlson. Gone but good.
How about--? Fuck, what's her name?
Sarah.
Sarah, Sarah.
Let's see.
Miss Doolittle. What are you doing?
Um....
I have to make an important call.
You know better than that. You wait for your lunch hour.
But it's important. I gotta call my mother.
She was standing on the corner minding her business...
-...and this tractor-trailer ran her over. -Again?
Your mother is having a bad month.
Didn't she fall off a cross-town bus last week?
I'd like to be her beneficiary.
-Get away from that phone! -No, wait a minute!
-Get out of here! -No, I was here first!
-I gotta reach out and touch someone. -All right, forget it. Fine.
MAN: There she is.
[SPEAKING WITH A BRITISH ACCENT]
Yes, good afternoon. May I speak with Lady Sarah, please?
Oh, my name? Sybil Fawlty.
Yes, I'm the social secretary to Lady, Lady....
Lady Andatramp. Yeah, that's right. Lady Andatramp.
You know, she's the Dutch dog fancier.
Yes.
Oh, yes. Could you hold on one second?
-What? -You gonna be all day?
Don't piss me off! Get the fuck out of my face, okay? Dickhead!
Look, can you tell me where I might find Lady Sarah?
Elizabeth Arden? All day?
Go be a gentleman, see where that gets you.
TERRY: I mean, that's our jobs.
Yes. Thank you so much. God save the queen.
Bon vivant. Arrivederci. That kind of thing. Yes, bye-bye. Bye.
[PHONE RINGS]
喂？ What?
You want a quarter? Kiss my ass!
Find me in New York for this fucking quarter.
[PHONE RINGS]
Okay, okay, okay. I was just-- Here's your quarter.
I'm sorry. Who knew there was a phone gestapo? I mean--
MAN: Could you get my umbrella while you're at it there?
TERRY: These guys are serious.
[SCREAMING]
Hey, my umbrella!
TERRY: Oh, shit!
Hey, hey, hey! Stop, stop, stop! Call the police!
You can't miss me! I'm a little black woman in a big silver box...
...and the top of the thing says "phone." Help!
Oh, Jesus! Hey! Watch out for the car!
Help! I'm stuck in a phone booth! Help!
You, brother! Yo, brother man! Black power! Get me the fuck out of here!
Right on!
TERRY: Don't wave at me! Call the police!
Help me! Call the police!
Oh, fuck! Help! Help!
-We're gonna clean your window. -Don't wash the windows.
-Don't wa-- Get me out! -Come on, give us some money!
Only in New York could you be in a phone booth, and nobody does anything.
Help! I'm moving towards the uptown area. Help me now!
[SIREN WAILING]
Oh, fuck!
Stop!
I'll get-- I'll get back to you.
-Oh, you found me! MAN: Lady, you okay?
TERRY: Hey, get the SWAT guys! Your ass is mine now!
Asshole!
Whoa.
-I owe you one. -Oh, no! No, you're gonna kill me!
-I'm dying! -No, you're not gonna die.
-Not yet. Not till you tell me the truth. -What?
-Let the serum take effect, Terry. -Truth serum?
-What kind of hokey shit is that? -Tell me the truth.
-I'm not gonna tell you anything!
-Come on. Where is Jack? Come on. -You know, my ears are ringing.
-Only the truth, Terry. -It is the truth.
I don't know anything. I don't know anything about anything.
-I don't know anything about Jack Fla- -Where is he, Terry?
-I.... You know, I-- -Fuck the insurance!
-Is my face melting? -The key!
The key, Terry! I need the key! Jack's code key. What's the key?
-The key? -Yes.
-The key! -The key is the key.
-What does that mean? -The key is the key.
I gave her too much. Goddamn it! Get in the car! Damn it!
I'll meet you back in the basement. She's got too much.
The basement? You're not taking anybody to the basement.
-Hello, police? I'm being taken-- -Hey, stop that!
-Do you read me? Stop, stop, stop! -What do you think you're doing?
Hey! Put that down! Turn that off! Hey! Give me that!
You bitch! Hey, you stupid bitch! Let go of my arm!
Unlock the door! What? Give me that!
Oh, shit! Carl! Carl!
Oh, my God! Turn right! Oh, my God!
[CARS CRASHING]
And you deserve it, asshole! And that's the truth!
Oh, my God. You ever wonder what the fuck Martinizing is?
-Yeah. -I do.
I wonder about that stuff all the time.
Oh, look! A tropical fish and his mate!
-I love it. MAN: See, I told you you look good.
Oh, boy.
Boy, they got funky-looking people in New York.
I have to go to Elizabeth Arden. I gotta save my friend Jack.
You know, he's a spy.
How do you know that's what happens when you put Ex-Lax in tea?
DRIVER: I thought I heard everything. Thanks, lady.
TERRY: Who the fuck is Elizabeth Arden? I don't know. Hey, baby, open the door.
-Good afternoon, madam. -Taxi!
[SPEAKING INDISTINCTLY]
[YELLING]
Jesus! Jesus! I--
-I have to see Lady Sarah Billings. -She's having her treatment.
-May I take a message? Security, please. TERRY: Jesus!
-No wonder they call it toilet water. -You can't go in there.
-What's your name? -Earl.
You look like a smart guy, Earl.
See this face? This is the face of a woman on the edge, Earl.
-I know. My wife's got the same face. -You have to make a decision.
Do you wanna work here, or do you want to live?
I quit, I quit.
TERRY: Sarah!
RECEPTIONIST: Does anyone have a pocket pistol?
God, it's hot in here! I can't believe this. What are you people doing?
You don't have to spend your money! Spend my money!
You want some money? Beauty comes from within!
It's not something you can buy!
Except for you. You need the most help. Use my MasterCard.
Sarah!
RECEPTIONIST: She doesn't know what she means.
Look at this woman! She looks terrible!
RECEPTIONIST: It's a man.
WOMAN: Well, I never!
TERRY: Sorry. Sarah! Sarah!
-No! -Sarah!
-No! Miss! -Sarah!
Miss! Miss!
What the fuck are you running here, Wild Kingdom?
Loveliness is a woman's obligation and reward.
Her biggest--
Hi. Remember me?
Embassy ball? Liz Carlson's cousin Terry Doolittle. Hi.
-Good to see you. -How are you?
Oh, boy, well. You know, I hate my job. I hate this city.
I'm a little bit lonely periodically. I feel like I got my period every day.
For the most part, the spy stuff is-- Big mistake.
-Other than that, I'm great. -Karen, just give us five minutes, please.
Don't take too long. You'll lose that tonality.
We don't want your cheeks dropping to your knees.
-Where is he? -Russia, I think. I'm not sure.
People are chasing him. He needs to get out.
I thought we could go to your husband and get an exit contact for him.
-Why on earth would we do that? -He's your friend.
That's what you do for friends is you help them out.
-You're assuming a great deal. -Come on, Sarah.
I mean, you don't want me to beg on my knees, do you? I mean....
You guys had a thing once. You were close. I mean, come on.
Jack was a very long time ago. I can't help you.
-Oh, you can't? -I'm sorry, Miss Doolittle.
There's absolutely nothing I can do.
You're just gonna lay back in your pink room, in your pink towel...
...with your little pink face and your pink blanket and your big, pink feet.
And you're gonna lay there and tell me you're sorry? You're more than sorry.
You know? You know what you are? You're-- You're sad.
LARRY: Hey, Terry, you are late. Page is pissed, man. He is smoking.
Larry, you gotta stop smoking them cigars, man.
-And for God's sake, lose some weight. -I lost five pounds last week.
I even cut back on hog maws and chitterlings.
-Hi. -Hey, you're late! You're late.
-I'm gonna slide on down-- DOUG: Is she drunk?
CYNTHIA: What's she doing? TERRY: Okay.
-She cracks me up. DOUG: Terry.
Come on, get up. Mr. Page is going to see you.
-I'm okay. -Where have you been?
I went and had--
Stop wearing this lipstick. Do me a favor.
-Okay. -It looks so strange on your lips.
-Get her some water. She's drunk. -Marry her. The babies need a last name.
-Did you tell her? -No.
Terry, what's wrong with you? You look awful.
-Your ulcer. TERRY: Is Page looking for me?
Every five minutes. Be cool.
Congratulations. You've finally shattered the Guinness record for tardiness.
I'm taking you upstairs.
I'm not gonna say anything.
Maybe one or two things. Come here. All six of you, come here.
Look, I've just had several of the worst days of my young life, Mr. Page.
And, well, the last thing I need...
...is some jiggerhead like you to be screaming at me in a whiny voice.
If you don't leave me alone, I'm gonna snatch this bad boy off your head.
I'll have to ram this...
...straight up your chocolate whiz way.
LISA: Oh, my God. -Get Larry, the heavyset guard.
MARTY: Call an ambulance! -Hey, that's my hat.
Help me with her. Just put that down.
I had no idea he was bald.
MARTY: What did you think that was? -Hair.
-Mr. Page, can we use your office? MR. PAGE: No.
-Come on. It's office decorum. MR. PAGE: Well, put her in my office.
[CLATTERING]
[YELLS]
-Hi, Sarah. -Oh.
Come in.
-I'm sorry to bother you. -I was just cleaning up my apartment.
I was afraid to call, and this couldn't wait.
Do you remember what you said to me at the salon?
-Not a goddamn word of it. -You were very eloquent.
Really? Thanks.
So I persuaded my husband to get involved.
He, in turn, spoke with Ml-5 in London.
This is for Jack?
In the envelope, you'll find the name of a person...
...and a rendezvous point. If Jack makes this contact, he'll be home in 72 hours.
Hey. You're a real lady, Sarah.
Jack, you got good taste. Pack your bags, bud.
I got good news for you. I got your exit contact from your old flame.
JACK: Who? -I knew you'd want to know.
Sinai Sarah.
Maybe we should leave this game to the women.
Yes. Or maybe if you left it to the women...
...we wouldn't be playing these stupid games.
Okay. "Contact Burg will meet you tomorrow." Okay.
Contact Burghardt. Will meet you at Rezo Inn 5 p.m. tomorrow.
Thanks.
Smooth talker. Take care of yourself. Keep your terminal open tomorrow.
I owe you my life. I don't know how I can ever repay you.
I think I'll settle for veal dinner.
You're on. How about Orlando's?
Not bad taste. Orlando's. Sure. Anything else?
Sweet dreams.
You too, Jack.
You too, man.
Oh, shit.
MAN: Mm, mm, mm, mm!
Baby, look what we have here.
-Take your hands off me. -What's wrong with you?
-Who taught you how to dress? -I did.
-Rattle my chains. -Fucking mother!
-Hey, baby, don't worry. I'll go first. -You don't want me.
You don't want me. I got diseases.
-I got shit that'll make your dick fall off. MAN: Baby, my dick glows in the dark.
She don't deserve us. She was your chick.
I'm cured! I'm cured!
I'm gonna party with you guys. We'll have a great time!
And we'll have sex!
-We'll do lots of drugs! -Yeah.
We'll have a real good time, and then we'll get down and boogie.
-I think I got a business appointment. -I gotta go!
What's the matter? I said, I was cured. Where are you going? I'm cured.
[SCREAMING]
TALBOT: Good afternoon.
Ah!
TERRY: What? -Good afternoon.
-What do you mean, afternoon? -It's a little after 3.
You're too late. I already sent Jack his exit contact.
-Yes, I know. -What do you mean?
TALBOT: Who do you think gave the exit contact to Lord Malcolm?
Where did you think he'd come? We're his trusted staff.
You bastards!
[MEN LAUGHING]
Don't underestimate your role.
You led us right to Jack. You sprang the trap.
No. Jack was hip to you.
And Jack knew you were playing both sides of the fence.
-And that's why you're so pissed off. -Please, Miss Doolittle.
In a very short while, he'll be dead. Know why?
Because he's going to contact Burghardt. At the Rezo lnn.
5 p.m. Ring a bell?
-No. -What do you mean, no?
-I mean, that's not the message I sent. -What was the message you sent?
Wouldn't you like to know.
Lord Malcolm might not be that swift, but he seems to be onto you chumps.
-She's bluffing. -We'll soon find out.
You're gonna tell us what we want to know.
Who are you? The Pillsbury Doughboy?
Ooh! Just kidding.
I congratulate you on your analysis of my situation.
Jack has uncovered information linking an official to an unfriendly government.
-By now, he accurately suspects me. -You're a KGB whoozi-whatsits.
A mole!
-Very good! You're a clever girl. -What contact did you send?
Carl, please persuade her.
What contact did you send?
Since I didn't know where Jack was, I had to discredit his information.
I put out the word that he killed Carlson and then defected.
That closed most doors.
That's why he wound up with you.
-We don't have much time. -Enough rehearsal.
This is for what you did to our friend Zarkoff.
Don't do it!
TALBOT: Come on! Come on!
[YELLING]
TALBOT: Watch out! Get up! Get up! Hurry!
Don't kill her.
-No, don't kill me. You're right. -She's worthless dead.
-I gotta be sure. -Be sure, Mr. Talbot.
-Shoot her in the legs. TERRY: No!
Are you crazy? If you shoot me in the legs, I'll blow my brains out.
TALBOT: It's just another bluff. -No, it isn't! Look! See? See? Look.
I'm gonna kill myself. Finger on the trigger. Stay right there.
She can't leave the consulate. Take the stairs.
Ah! There's a lady with a gun!
MAN: What has she got in her hand? -She's got a weapon!
[SPEAKING INDISTINCTLY]
TERRY: Call the police. -My God, you're a terrorist.
TERRY: Call the police. GILLIAN: Do you have a list of demands?
I demand you call the fucking police. I demand you call the fucking police!
Want a hostage? I've been trained to be one.
Please. I have a gun in your face. I'm threatening myself.
All right, freeze! Drop it!
Okay! God.
It's down.
It took you guys long enough to get here.
COP: Let's go. Read her her rights.
-Come peacefully, you won't get hurt. -I'm glad to see you guys.
Those guys tried to put my lights out. I gotta get downtown fast.
COP: Don't worry, you will. -Hey!
Get in.
Did you see the look on that schmuck's face? Jeez, this is great!
-Shut the fuck up. -Hey, don't talk to me like that.
Could you drop me off downtown?
-I have important business to deal with. -You are nuts.
You still don't get it? Look, there's a guy in Russia who's gonna die...
...unless I get back to my computer terminal in 45 minutes.
It'll take that long to book you. You'll be lucky to get there in 45 days!
-Book me? Book me? Bullshit! -Hey, sit down!
[HORNS HONKING]
COP: Hey, Charlie. Charlie, you all right? All right, call it in! I'm going after her.
Coming through! Get out of the way! Look out!
LARRY: Slow down. You're gonna hurt yourself.
-Get out of the way, Lisa! DOUG: Marty called.
Maybe she got herself a boyfriend. Terry, what's going on?
-Jack. B-Flat. -See, what did I tell you? Jack.
Jack, do you receive? Jack?
JACK: Jack here. Just leaving. Anything wrong?
Listen carefully. Can--?
Jack? What is this? Every time, I get this Russian bitch on my terminal!
-Fucking machine! -It's unbelievable. You're fired.
I'm conferring with members of the British financial community.
-And they hear this language. TALBOT: It's all right. We're used to it.
Well, I'm sorry, I....
It appears you did send the Burghardt contact.
MR. PAGE: I couldn't find the Burghardt information on any of these terminals.
TERRY: Bastard. JACK: Terry, what's wrong?
-Tell him nothing's wrong. -Who are these people? I want to know--
-Step out, Mr. Page. -Tell him.
MR. PAGE: Get Larry, the guard. -Take your hands off me.
LARRY: Can't help you now, Mr. Page.
JACK: Terry, what's wrong?
On second thought, Mr. Talbot...
...send it your goddamn self.
-Oh, you shouldn't-- -Shut up!
Don't let her send! Hunter, stop her!
Don't let her send a message! Keep her away from--
[SCREAMING]
My hat! My hat!
TALBOT: Don't kill anyone!
-Oh, my God! TALBOT: Don't shoot the machines!
JACK: Terry, must leave in order to make contact.
MR. PAGE: Get off my foot!
TERRY: Burghardt is setup. Will kill you. HUNTER: Oh, no, you don't!
-Kill her? TALBOT: Feel free!
Carl!
Why do I have to work here?
Cancel that message.
Cancel the message. Cancel the message.
I'll cancel something even better.
[WHINING]
I don't believe her.
-What's his code? -Who are you?
CIA. What's his code? What's his code?
-Give me his code, goddamn it! -All right. It's B-Flat. God.
DOUG: Take a picture of me next to the dead guy.
JACK: Still here, sweetheart.
MARTY: Glad to hear it, honey. It's Peter Caen.
-You're Peter Caen? -Yeah. I'll explain it all later.
-The one on the frying pan? -Yes.
Have Talbot. Have exit contact.
Meet Matuchek, store on Balton Street. Will get you home. Promise.
-Anything you want to say? -Well, tell him not to forget our date.
All this is for a date?
WAITER: Our specials tonight--
-Welcome back. -Well, thank you. Excuse me.
Darling, I'm sorry.
WAITER: More bread sticks, madame? -Oh, no. Could I have the check, please?
Hi.
Hi, Marty. I'm sorry, Peter.
-It's all right. -What are you doing here?
-You look very nice. -Yeah? Thanks.
-What are you doing here? -Jack isn't coming.
I'm sorry. He sent me a telex from London.
Told me to come and explain it to you. I know that he wanted to be here.
It's no big deal, you know.
After all, I was just some words on a screen, right?
A screwdriver, a mechanic's tool to be used by you guys.
-He asked me to take care of this. -Please. No.
It's too much like him leaving my room and leaving money on the dresser.
-Forty dollars. Great. -Terry.
Well, I did my part for democracy.
I'll take you home, okay?
No. No. I'm okay.
-Yeah? -Yeah.
She should be happy. Page is leaving, and she's taking over his job.
If I'd known that'd get a promotion, I'd have blown up the place.
Terry, I've got a great idea. Let's have a little fun tonight after work.
-Yeah, quit moping. Come with us. -Yeah, we could go to Cole's.
-No, thanks, you guys. -Come on.
[COMPUTER BEEPING]
JACK: Knock, knock.
Knock, knock. Please.
Leave me alone.
I'm sorry. Unavoidably delayed in London. Queen thanks you.
Frankly, I don't give a shit about the queen.
I did give a shit about you, however.
I sat in that restaurant feeling stupid and hurt.
I mean, what happened to you?
All you had to do was come and say "hi" or "thanks" or something.
I mean, you just left me sitting there.
But no, you sent me to a restaurant with shitty bread sticks.
Sorry. I still want to take you to dinner.
Next time I'm in London, I'll look you up.
-Careful, you'll break your glasses. -Thank you.
-Where are you? -Two rows back, on the left.
Oh.
JACK: Aren't you gonna turn around?
No.
JACK: Why not?
Well, because it....
Hi, Jack.
-I don't know how to thank you. -Don't worry. I have a list.
-What did you say about the queen? -Forget I said it.
-She'll be pleased to hear that. -I bet.
-How about that dinner? -I'm not dressed for dinner.
You look great.
Not as great as I looked the last time I got dressed to meet you.
I looked fantastic! Then all these crazy people--
-Miss Doolittle? Never mind. CYNTHIA: Terry?
Is that him?
This is Jack.
CYNTHIA: Hi, Jack!
Ah! Wh--?
Go Terry! Yahoo!
Terry!
FRED: Way to go, Terry!
LARRY: You're looking lovely. You're looking spiffy.
You're looking good, mama!