He's clean.
So...
Why are you here? Hm?
There was a time.
4:35.
You misunderstood.
I wasn't asking for the time, I was just saying, "There was a time. "
There was a time?
Mm-hm.
Take brown sugar back there, for example.
She's pretty fucking foxy, right?
She's 70.
If she's a day.
But there was a time.
- I don't follow. - The name's Smith. I'm from out of town.
- Listen, Mr. Smith... - Just Smith.
The reason I'm in town, in case you're wondering...
...is because of a Kansas City Shuffle.
What's a Kansas City Shuffle?
Kansas City Shuffle is when everybody looks right and you go left.
- Never heard of it. - Hm.
It's not something people hear about.
Falls on deaf ears mostly.
But this particular one's been over 20 years in the making.
20 years, huh?
No small matter.
Requires a lot of planning.
It involves a lot of people.
People connected only by the slightest of events.
Like whispers in the night...
...in that place that never forgets even when those people do.
It all starts with a horse.
It's what they called back then a drugstore handicap.
A guy wants what the fella calls a sure thing. So he schemes to make it so.
He calls in the doc, a nobler from Antwerp known for his savvy but not for his discretion.
Oh. Fuck me, baby. Fuck me, baby.
The same could be said for Doc's jelly on the side - Gloria.
- Almost there, almost there. - Oh, God. Oh, God.
Hey, which horse did you say it was again, baby?
Which brings us to Abe. Because Gloria was too much jelly for one outfit.
Hey, baby, is your wife around?
- What do you want? Who is it, Abe?
Ah... it's Seymour.
Sure. Tell that bitch to open her eyes. Maybe then she'd see more.
Seymour says hello.
What are you doing calling me here?
Christmas came early this year, baby. I got a present for you.
Remember my friend Doc?
Now Abe wasn't a nosy fella, but he had a nose.
And right below his nose was his mouth.
Do you remember Gloria the hooker?
Well, Gloria's got this friend Doc who's got a line on a doped-up racehorse.
The fix is in at Aqueduct.
- Seventh horse. Tenth race. - Doped up?
And then there was this joker who had ears...
Let's get back.
...who looked like somebody's uncle.
Max, who's your favorite uncle?
OK, who's your second favorite uncle?
Just pay attention.
I got something here.
And before you know it, folks are getting a big dose of the gimmies.
And men start talking their hats off.
And that Manischewitz Grapevine Wine spills in your ear and tells you you got a sure thing.
And what's worse is, you start to believe it.
At least that's how it went with old Max.
Who wasn't so much old, as he was tired.
Tired of being a dog without a day.
Tired of waking up and finding that his dreams were only dreams.
We're leaving.
But mostly, Max was tired of not having a front lawn.
Make sure he doesn't come home late.
- I will. - I was talking to your son.
You think that's funny, do you?
Uh-huh. Bye, Mom.
Yeah. Bye, Mom!
Love you.
They're off.
All right, if your ma asks, where were we today?
- Shea Stadium. - To see?
- Mets v Phillies. - Good man. Give me the post-game.
Stallard gave up six runs in the first five innings.
Ed Kranepool hit a line drive down right field but it hit the wall, fouled by a foot.
Gonder hit a groundball between first and second
but he's so slow, second baseman Tony Taylor tagged him out at first.
Did you get all that from the radio?
Mm-hm.
You're good.
OK, I'll be right back.
No, no, no. You've got to stay in the car.
Why?
Because they don't let little boys inside the track.
Saul's dad takes him to the track.
Well, Saul's dad is a degenerate gambler.
And if you're the son of a degenerate gambler, they let you in.
It's economically viable.
Are you going to be a degenerate gambler?
Hey. You know better than that.
Your old man's smart. He only plays a sure thing.
Look. This money's gonna get you through Harvard.
And you're gonna be a doctor.
But until then...
you've got to stay in the car.
Hey.
Next weekend, you and me go to a ballgame.
- OK. - OK.
I love you, kid.
I love you too, Dad.
Wait, watch. Watch, watch, watch.
I almost forgot. 15 minutes.
Start counting.
The next race at the Aqueduct is the tenth race.
- Come on, come on. The field is making towards
the final turn. And Number Seven has moved into fifth position on the outside.
- Number Two has the lead...
Come on.
Number One is against the rail.
And Number Seven is beginning to pick up the pace on the outside.
Yes!
Yes. Come on, baby. Come on!
Let's go!
...to challenge. Goes clear and Number Seven takes the lead!
It's Number Seven who now has the lead.
It's strolling clear.
Yes!
Oh!
Number Seven has fallen!
Number One comes home and takes the lead to win it.
Max woke up to find his dreams had just been the stuff of pipes.
- I want to place a bet. - How much?
20 large.
Oh, you must feel real lucky.
I'll take your bet.
And lay it off.
I've got a bookie's bookie.
I'll give you 2-1 on the horse.
Uh-uh. The racing form says 9-1.
So you go to a ticket vendor with your 20 grand in hand,
and you get 9-1 if the spread sticks.
You come in here with your pockets turned out, you get 2-1.
The juice is ten.
That means if you lose, you're all in for 22 grand.
20 for the bet, two for the juice.
Can you pay these monies? Huh? Can you?
Yeah.
Just to be clear.
If you lose...
...you're gonna owe a lot of money to the kind of men
you do not want to owe the smallest amount of money to.
Henry!
Hey, buddy. You got a light?
No. Henry!
In that case, how about the 20 Gs you just blew on the Seven horse?
- What have you done with my son? - He's on his way home. Just like you.
Urgh!
Where am I?
Roth, he'll tell you everything, I swear.
He already has.
Please.
I have a family.
Please.
Please!
Where's my boy?
Henry!
Where are they?
Henry!
Fuck.
Shit.
Jesus.
"Fuck, shit, Jesus" is right.
I don't understand. Why did they kill Max's family?
New outfit in town.
They didn't want somebody else betting on a fixed horserace with them.
Trying to make an impression.
That's a fucking story, man.
Charlie Chaplin entered a Charlie Chaplin look-a-like contest in Monte Carlo
and came in third.
Now that's a story.
This...
This is something else.
So that's a Kansas City Shuffle?
No.
It's just the inciting incident.
The catalyst.
This - is a Kansas City Shuffle.
They look right...
And you...
go left.
Sorry about that, son.
Sometimes there's more to life than just living.
Besides... you can't have a Kansas City Shuffle without a body.
- He's down! - Get the roof!
Up there!
I'm coming!
Coming.
It took you long enough.
You're not Nick.
You're not as tall as I thought you'd be.
Well, I'm short for my height.
That makes sense because I can usually tell how tall someone is by their knock.
You have a deceptively tall knock. Congratulations.
So it's a good thing?
I open the door expecting you to be up here, you're down here.
That combined with a low centre of gravity - forget about it.
Who are you?
I'm Slevin.
And what happened to your nose?
I was using it to break some guy's fist.
Somebody hit you?
Yeah... I was kind of expecting it, though.
You were kind of expecting it?
Well, they say bad things happen in threes.
First... I lost my job.
Then I came home to find my apartment building had been condemned
due to a hybrid breed of Ecuadorian Super Termites.
So I went to my girlfriend Kelly's.
I had a key so I let myself in.
- Hey, don't stop on my account. - Oh shit!
Slevin.
It was an accident.
What, like he tripped and you fell?
Slevin, do you know what time it is?
I'm at the airport, are you sure you want me to come out?
Yeah. Two weeks in New York and the only Kelly you'll remember
is the Kelly who gave you your first hand job on the bus to summer camp.
Kelly Perkins. Said her hands were dry and she needed...
She said that to a lot of guys. That's why we called her Jerkins Perkins.
- Just call me when you land, all right? - Yeah.
Yeah, I just got into town, Nick. I'm on my way over to your place.
Say, man, you got the time?
Ya, man, it's uh... 7:23.
So you're probably still asleep?
- Yo, you got a smoke? - No, I don't smoke, man.
Why don't you just go ahead and give me your wallet and I'll buy my own smokes?
Am I being mugged?
Man!
And so here I am.
You said three.
- What? - You said bad things happen in threes.
You lost your job, your apartment was condemned, Kelly was cheating on you
and you got mugged - that makes four.
When you're on a roll, you're on a roll.
Interesting, although I would add,
not the ever so clever hold-up man one hears so much about.
- Well, he did break my nose. - But overlooked your suitcase.
Maybe it wouldn't make for a speedy getaway.
True, but then there's the matter of your watch. Pretty fancy.
- It's a fake. - But he didn't know that.
- Maybe he didn't see it. - He saw it. He asked you for the time.
You say this was your third mugging?
Uh... I travel a lot.
Where's Nick?
I don't know. He was supposed to meet me here. He never showed up.
- How did you get in? - Door was open.
- Door was open? - Yeah.
- Open or unlocked? - I don't remember.
- You said open. - Could have been. What was your name again?
Lindsey. I live across the hall.
- Oh. - I came over to borrow a cup of sugar.
- Where's your cup? - I came to borrow a cup of sugar.
If I had a cup, I'd have come to borrow sugar.
Touch�.
Maybe that's Nick. It's right there.
Hello?
They hung up.
I have an idea. Have you used the phone since you've been here?
No, except for that.
Sorry, wrong number.
That was the Hotel Cheval.
What are you doing?
We know who he called. Who called him?
- Columbo says three things... - Columbo?
Yeah, Columbo was this TV detective played by Peter Falk...
I know who Columbo is. Yeah.
He looked for three things at a crime scene.
What's there now that wasn't before. What was there before that isn't now.
- And what's been moved. - Is this a crime scene?
- I think Nick's in trouble. - Ah.
Sorry, wrong number.
That was the Hotel Cheval again!
So what? He called the hotel, the hotel called him back. Makes sense.
So, maybe it's a clue.
- A clue to what? - A clue to what happened to Nick.
- We don't know anything did. - We don't know anything didn't.
You're here, he's not. The door was open. Bad things happen where you...
Shit. I've got to stop by work.
Just for a couple of hours. I'll come back, then we can start the investigation.
- The investigation? - Uh-huh. It'll be fun.
OK.
I totally forgot...
Yeah.
Sorry.
- May I borrow a cup of sugar? - What?
I never gave it much thought until I put up a fresh pot of coffee.
I was on my way to the store and I thought Nick'd have sugar.
You tell me your story, I leave, sugarless.
I come back, you put your penis on exhibition.
Although the coffee's probably gone bad by now, I insist on following through.
It's like a Norman Rockwell painting.
What, my penis?
No. No, the sugar.
Neighbors borrowing sugar from one another.
It's very um... Andy Griffith.
Yeah.
That's Andy Griffith. The penis thing is not very Mayberry.
No.
Thanks for the sugar... sugar.
I wanted to try and catch the next show.
I don't go on again till eight.
Whew!
It's not nearly eight o'clock yet.
- The Boss wants to see you. - Who?
- The Boss. - Who's The Boss?
- The guy we work for. - Jesus!
Come here and sit your punk ass down.
Go.
I'm not the guy you're looking for. I don't live here.
Well, you look like the guy that lives here.
Then you don't know what he looks like.
He means to say you look like you live here.
Yeah, that's what I mean to say.
I look like I live here, but I don't.
I'm just visiting, I just got in this morning.
The cat I'm looking for, his name is uh...
- His name is Nick, man. - Nick.
The cat's name is Nick. Now...
Who are you?
I'm Slevin.
You got some ID?
The funny thing about that is I got mugged this morning.
Look, look.
Tell it to the One Legged Man.
So he can bump it off down the road.
- Hey, listen, motherfucker... - Yo, I got this.
- Slow, slow, slow, slow your roll, man. - I got this.
Just let me. Just let me, all right?
Motherfucker!
All I know is, The Boss slides me this here address,
and he says, "Sloe" - that's him.
"Elvis" - that's me.
"Bring me the cat who resides at this here address. "
Now he told me that today.
You just so happen to be here today.
So I guess you the cat I'm supposed to pick up.
Today.
But I'm not Nick.
Yeah, well, unfortunately for you,
you're not the first cat to tell me you wasn't the guy I was looking for.
You can ask Lindsey, she lives across the hall. She lives here.
Hold on, man, I ain't asking nobody nothing.
Nick, Slevin, Clark Kent - whatever your name is.
The Virgin Mary could come waltzing up with her fine ass,
titties hanging out and everything.
If she told me your name was Jesus Christ, I still gotta take you to see The Boss. Know why?
No.
Orders.
Now, you do know what orders is, right?
Orders is orders.
So I guess no-one ever taught you not to use the word you're defining in the definition?
Say something else, I will break your motherfucking nose. I ain't playing.
My nose is already broken.
- Can I just say one more thing? - What?
Can you turn the heat up in here cos it's really cold?
Uh... yeah.
Y- You... You should have thought about that before you started in with all the lip.
Ah, Jeez.
- It's cold out there. - Let's hurry it up, man.
Yo, grab his ass.
The boss is right up there, chump.
Well, listen.
Your boys Elvis and Sloe picked up the wrong guy.
- I'm not Nick Fisher. - Mr. Fisher?
Are you familiar with The Shmoo, Mr. Fisher?
A comic strip I liked as a boy.
The Shmoo was a loveable creature, really.
Laid eggs...
gave milk...
...and died of sheer ecstasy when looked at with hunger.
The Shmoo loved to be eaten.
It could taste like any food you desire.
Shmoo hide, cut thin, made fine leather.
Even Shmoo whiskers made excellent toothpicks.
In essence, the Shmoo supplied all of the world's wants.
I only bring up the Shmoo because it's relevant to you and why you were brought here.
I'm sorry, who are you?
I'm The Boss.
I thought he was The Boss.
Why?
Do we look alike?
So, Mr. Fisher... you were gonna tell me something?
I don't know, you brought me here.
Yes, I did.
Back when you thought I was him.
I never thought you were him. I thought he was you.
I was trying to tell him, you... that they picked up the wrong guy.
- Wrong guy for what? - What you wanted to see me about.
- Know what I wanted to see you about? - No.
Then how do you know I have the wrong guy?
- Because I'm not... - Maybe I wanted to give you $96,000.
In that case, do I still have the wrong guy?
Do you want to give me $96,000?
No, do you want to give me $96,000?
No, should I?
I don't know, should you?
I don't know, should I?
Long story short.
- I think we're well past that point. - I'll bet it was that mouth that got you that nose.
OK, I'm under the impression that you're under the impression that I owe you $96,000.
No, you owe Slim Hopkins $96,000.
You owe Slim, Slim owes me.
You owe me.
Well, in that case. Is Slim around?
Hey, Slim. Do you know this cat?
Slim?
No use.
Ever since somebody shot him, old Slim went deaf.
What happened to make Slim go deaf?
Why?
Because I owe you $96,000 and I might have a slight problem coming up with the money.
Oh, OK.
Well, why don't we just make it an even 90?
I may have exaggerated the slightness.
Hm.
Well, why don't I just cancel the whole debt in exchange for a small favor?
Well, that depends on the favor.
That was my son.
Notice how I said "was"?
Yeah.
That's because he's dead.
Murdered.
Relegated to the past tense.
Sent from an is to a was before he'd had his breakfast.
Bummer.
Lex Talionis.
The Law of Retaliation.
A pact was broken.
My son was murdered, so The Rabbi's son must share the same fate.
Whose son?
The Rabbi's.
Why do they call him The Rabbi?
Because...
Because he's a rabbi.
Who's his son?
- Yitzchok. - Yitzchok. Yitzchok and The Rabbi.
Yitzchok the Fairy.
Why do they call him The Fairy?
Because he's a fairy.
He has wings, can fly? Sprinkles magic dust all over the place?
- He's homosexual. - Right.
Come on.
- So how does The Rabbi feel about that? - He doesn't know.
- You know, but he doesn't? - Everybody knows.
- Except The Rabbi. - That's right.
So where do I fit in?
You?
You're the trigger man.
Me?
You.
Aren't there professionals? People you can hire to do this sort of thing?
Of course there are.
Yes.
But you owe me $96,000.
Why should I go out and pay someone else when I've already paid you?
Hm. Sorry, kid, but your money just isn't long enough.
Which means you're in my pocket.
Which means if you don't do what I want you to do,
you're gonna go from my pocket to my fridge.
Slim could use the company.
I could use the Shmoo.
So I'll expect your answer by morning.
Is there anything else?
Well, I don't suppose I have to say anything as trite and clich�d as,
"Go to the police and you're a dead man. "
I think you just did.
I guess I did.
So, let me see if I've got this right.
I'm paying you a lot of money to kill somebody and you're getting somebody else to do it?
Don't worry.
I'm gonna kill somebody.
Better call Brikowski.
Tell him there's a new face in town.
- Hey. - Nick still hasn't shown, huh?
- No. - What's with you and that towel?
Oh... Lindsey...
- It's a very long story. - Get dressed, and tell me about it on the way.
Where are we going?
All we know is that somebody called Nick from the Hotel Cheval.
I spoke to a friend who works there.
They keep a record of every call made.
She can access the computer and we can find out what room the call came from.
What is it?
- I know this guy. - Who?
This guy.
You know that guy?
Yeah, I met him.
He was dead.
You met a dead guy?
Yeah.
In a walk-in freezer.
Bookmaker Slim Hopkins reported missing. Police have no leads.
Blah, blah, blah. Yada, yada...
A spokesperson commented off the record, "Ironic that Hopkins should go missing,
considering he's allegedly been behind a few disappearing acts himself. "
I think it's time you told me that story about why you're still wearing that towel.
Do you mind if I get dressed first?
Could be my friend from the hotel. Be right back.
Hm.
Hey, Lindsey, I don't think it's such a good idea that we continue to...
Put your shoes on, Schlomo wants to see you.
I don't know anyone named Schlomo.
Someone named Schlomo knows you. That is your only concern.
Let's go.
Like I said, I don't know...
Aaahh... better...
I think it's better if you let me do the talking.
You think?
What is it?
He's sorry that he hit you.
- Do you always speak for him? - Yes.
Hm.
So, he's a mute, then.
Not quite.
Well, what, then?
It's personal. You'll have to ask him.
- Hm. How would he tell me? - He wouldn't.
- Hey, are we going to the? - No.
- But he's right there. - A different outfit entirely.
Right across the street from one another?
At one time they were one with one another. And then they tried to kill one another.
And now neither man leaves his respective tower of isolation
for fear of what the other man will do to him.
Let me guess, all the way up?
Penthouse.
You must be Mr. Fisher.
Must I? Because... that hasn't been working out for me lately.
- But I'm afraid you must. - Well, if I must.
Do you know for what reason you've been brought here?
For starters, I'm unlucky.
The unlucky are nothing more than a frame of reference for the lucky, Mr. Fisher.
You are unlucky so I may know that I am not.
Unfortunately, the lucky never realize they are lucky until it's too late.
Take yourself for instance. Yesterday you were better off than you are today,
but it took today for you to realize it. But... today has arrived, and it's too late, you see?
People are never happy with what they have.
They always want what they had, or what someone else has.
Kinda like a rabbi who would rather be a gangster,
a gangster who would rather be a rabbi.
I mean, what is that?
Some sort of grass is always greener on the other side of the fence thing?
I mean, how do you justify being a rabbi
and a gangster?
I don't.
I'm a bad man who doesn't waste time wondering what could've been,
when I am what could've been or not have been.
I live on both sides of the fence, and my grass is always green.
Consider, Mr. Fisher...
...there are two men sitting here before you,
and one of them you should be very afraid of. Where's my money?
- I've been hearing that a lot lately. - My father used to say,
"The first time somebody calls you a horse, you punch him.
The second time somebody calls you a horse, call him a jerk.
But the third time somebody calls you a horse, perhaps it's time to go shopping for a saddle. "
- I don't have your money. - This isn't like skipping out on the check.
You owe me money. I have interests, you owe them money.
- I don't even know how much money I owe you. - $33,000.
- But I'm not Nick fisher. - Then who the hell are you?
I'm just a guy who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
You have 48 hours to get my money.
Saul will keep an eye on you. In the meantime, you may go now.
Wait, I just have one question.
I wasn't frisked.
I see. So, being a rabbi, a... a religious man...
There are three things a Jew may not do in order to save a life, including his own.
He may not idol-worship, commit adultery, or perform an act of premeditated murder.
Killing you before you killed me would have been...
Kosher.
Acceptable.
I've wired half the money to your bank in the Caymans.
The other half will be deposited when our old friend is in the ground.
Now I can expect that when?
- Very soon. - Good.
So, tell me. The kid...
What do you want with him?
The kid and I have unfinished business.
If there's one thing I know, it's when someone is lying.
A man in my position, it's all he has to go on.
To know a lie when he hears it, it's the difference between life and death -
your own, someone else's.
That being said, he wasn't lying.
That's not Nick Fisher.
I know.
I came back here, you were gone. So, I went to the hotel without you to see my friend.
She says the call to Nick came from Room 1009.
A fellow registered under the name of Smith, if you can believe that.
It's one of the most common names in the world, so there's bound to be a couple of 'em.
But I get the feeling that this ain't one of 'em.
I get up to the tenth floor, and just as I do,
the door to room 1009 opens and there's our Mr. Smith. In the flesh.
So, I pretend I'm walking to the elevator instead of coming from it and we take it down together.
He smiles at me - thanks - I smile back.
But I have no idea who he is but I think you might.
So I take a picture using my cellphone which I thought was a total waste
cos the photos look like shit and I never use it.
So there I am pretending to dial a number, and taking Smith's picture - him none the wiser.
This is Smith. Recognize him?
No.
I didn't think you would, but it was worth a shot. Anyway, we take the elevator to the lobby,
and the man who calls himself Smith walks outside and hails himself a cab.
So I followed him.
He went down into an apartment building downtown.
So I wait. An hour goes by.
And just when I'm getting ready to leave - who walks outside?
- Smith? - You.
Me?
You out of the same building with two Hasidic Jews on either side of you.
Friends of yours?
Not exactly.
I think it's time you told me that story.
Well, there's this guy and they call him The Boss, right?
And then, right across the street there's this man they call The Rabbi.
- Why do they call him The Rabbi? - Because he's a rabbi.
So now I have to "take out", to use the vernacular,
The Fairy, in order to scratch a debt that isn't even mine.
And if that's not enough, I have 48 hours to come up with $33,000 or The Rabbi's gonna...
I don't know who Mr. Smith is.
And the worst part about it is, I'm not Nick Fisher.
Ironic.
I know, I don't even gamble.
No, I mean the mobster having a gay son. That's ironic.
We are dealing with a bona fide case of mistaken identity here.
Things like that aren't supposed to be real. It's like amnesia.
Notwithstanding, here you are, and Nick's nowhere to be found, so...
I'd say you're fucked.
Fucked.
Shouldn't you be a little worried about this?
I have Ataraxia.
Ataraxia?
It's a condition characterized by freedom from worry or any other preoccupation really.
I have to have my answer to The Boss in the morning.
Oh, what are you gonna say?
What a man with two penises would say when his tailor asks him
- if he dresses to the right or to the left. - What's that?
Yes.
I knew you had sense.
Sense is something you have when you have a choice.
Sometimes.
Sometimes it's when you know you don't.
Nah, don't move that bishop! It's an obvious sucker bet.
If you don't, y-y-you can have him in four moves.
If you do, he's gonna have you in mate in one.
He doesn't see it.
Wouldn't matter if he did.
Elvis lets me win.
Everybody lets me win.
Wait a minute. You know this game?
You got three days.
I was thinking it would take me a week.
Oh, you were thinking that, were you?
With all your experience killing people? I'll tell you what.
You win this game, you got your week.
Hm.
So, what's the plan with Yitzchok?
Was gonna play it by ear.
Well, if it's all the same, I'd write it down. It's a tough tune.
And, by the way, he has shadows.
Shadows?
Bodyguards.
With him all the time.
Military.
Ex-Israeli Mossad.
They go where he goes, round-the-clock. Ex-Israeli Mossad.
Ex-Israeli Mossad.
That doesn't sound good.
They live in the apartment next door.
He wears a panic button on a chain around his neck.
Looks like an ordinary Star of David.
He presses that button and, well, we all know how that ends.
What's this?
Oh, God! No, you didn't?
Get down!
Response time's gonna be three to five seconds.
He's gonna have to hit him when he least expects it.
Where?
- Where? - The apartment.
How do I get in his apartment? I can't just walk in the front door.
No, I was thinking you'd use the back door.
Then what?
He does the kid, I do him.
I plant my gun. Clean, no history.
And Yitzchok - fire a round, get some powder burns on the hands.
Take the clothes off - make it look like a,
"You do me, I do you, we're both gay, the world doesn't understand us," double suicide.
And that's all there is to it.
Is that all there is to it?
Yeah. It's all there is to it.
Peww!
I'm not such a bad guy, you know.
Some folks have grown pretty fat off me.
Some have grown pretty dead.
You're a conundrum, you.
You walk in here shooting your fucking mouth off like you don't give a fuck if it gets shot off.
You can only kill me once.
Checkmate.
Nobody says I have to kill you quick.
Cat.
Mouse.
You've got three days.
Excuse me.
Who the fuck is this guy?
Dunno. But whoever he is, he's either in very deep shit or I don't know what.
Because he's playing in the sandbox with the Darkies, the Skullcaps and who knows who.
Call Murph and see if he got a match on that photo Marty snapped.
Yes, boss.
I want a complete rundown on this fucker. Everything from A to Z.
Who he is. Who does he know? The people he knows, who do they know?
I want to know what the fuck he is doing in my fucking city.
- What have you got? - Get this.
The Kat's in town.
Goodkat?
- It's the song junkies are singing. - What's the happenstance?
Didn't know the happenstance. Just said the word was the Kat's in town.
Um... who's er... who's Goodkat?
Real heavy hitter.
- The heaviest. - He shows, people die, he vanishes.
No-one knows who he is, or what he looks like.
And he hasn't worked New York in, like, two decades.
Just what we need.
All right.
And get some different fucking coffee in here, will you? I gotta get to the fucking morgue.
- Hey! I figured it out. - Hey. What did you figure out?
You said that Slim Hopkins worked for The Boss, right?
Well, listen.
The Rabbi also had a bookie - Benny Begin.
Benny's at the morgue. Somebody killed him and his goons.
- The morgue? - Didn't I say I was a coroner?
No, you didn't say you were a coroner.
Benny Begin - killed by a baseball.
My guess was a fastball.
Well, either way it proves that the good Lord has a sense of humor.
- Good morning, Detective. - Morning.
- You know this guy? - Big-time bookie. Worked for The Rabbi.
- Why do they call him The Rabbi? - Because he's a rabbi.
Between you and me...
20 years ago he used to be my bookie. I used to sign my pay cheques over to him.
What about the other two? Did you get anything on them yet?
These two were poisoned.
Something exotic.
- I'm running it down. - Well, let me know.
Will do.
Prick.
- Have a good day. - You too, Detective.
Jimmy, I'm taking my lunch break.
Don't you see? Nick isn't missing, he's hiding. He set you up.
- Nick set me up? - Like a bowling pin.
Nick found himself in a jam. He got you to take his place.
He paid a street thug to mug you, but all he wants is your wallet and license
so he ignores the watch and suitcase.
Then Nick kills Slim Hopkins and Benny.
The only guys who know what he looks like, and now you're left holding the bag!
- But I called Nick. I initiated contact. - Well, maybe it just seems that way.
- What about Smith? - I still can't figure him out in all this.
Hm.
- You should run. - I can't.
- They'll kill you if you stay. - They'll kill me if I leave.
- Go to the police! - These guys buy cops like cops buy doughnuts.
This isn't the first time this has happened.
This isn't the first time a crime lord asked you to kill the gay son of a rival
to pay off a friend's debt whose place you're staying in because you lost your job
and found your girlfriend with another guy?
It is the first time it happened. But Nick has been painting me into a corner since we were kids.
I guess I've always been a better friend to him...
Yeah, I'd love to hear the rest of this but I've really gotta go back to work.
- Oh, hey. Hey. - Hey.
I was just thinking that if you're still alive when I get back from work tonight, maybe...
I don't know, we could go to dinner or something?
Yeah, that would be great, yeah.
- Really? - Yeah.
Yeah.
OK. Um... No. Bye.
Hm...
Weird.
What?
I was just thinking about what it would be like if we'd met under different circumstances.
See, I think people should only fall in love if there's a great story behind how they met.
You know, seeing as you have to tell it over and over again.
If you and I fell in love, we'd have one hell of a story to tell.
We'd be at a dinner party and someone would ask, "How'd you two meet?"
And I'd say, "You tell the story, dear. " And you'd say, "No, you tell it better. "
So, come here often?
No. But I heard about someone who does.
- You mean... The Fairy? - Yeah.
- Is he? - Yeah.
Where?
This is absurd. What are you thinking?
- I'm thinking of a new option. - What?
- Talking with him. - Talking with him?
Talking.
You're gonna go over and say, "I'm Slevin, some bad dudes think I am someone I am not.
And I'm gonna have to take you out or they're gonna take me out
and I was wondering, you wanna talk about it?"
- I can't do that. - You think?
Look, I can't just walk over there. He's got bodyguards.
Aside from that, you're pretty much dead-on.
- Bodyguards? - Yeah. Right behind him. Two of them. Israelis.
Beards. Right behind him.
See 'em?
- You're getting good at this. - Thanks.
How are you gonna have a talk with him?
When he goes to the bathroom, I'll follow him in.
What do you think?
Could someone tell me why I'm in the van?
Because I could only get a reservation for two.
All right, The Fairy's at a table in the middle.
Bodyguards nearby.
Our boy's not far away but I can't make out who's with him.
- Did Murph get a beat on him yet? - Murph says, whoever he is, he's a ghost.
Can't find anyone who's ever even bumped into him, much less tripped over him.
The Fairy's going to the bathroom.
And our boy's making a move. Shit.
- Marty, the door's locked. - Relax.
It's not gonna go down in the men's room.
I got it next.
- What went down in the men's room? - We talked.
And?
I told him I thought we should get together.
- You didn't? - I did.
And?
- I got a date. - Do you think this is safe?
It can't be any worse than what's waiting for me behind door number two.
It's gonna be tough. I think I picked up a pigtail.
- A what? - The cops.
Oh, a pig tail. Cute.
I ran into a nosy cop in the men's room.
You and me need to talk.
- Do I know you? - No, but I know you.
Listen, I'm sorry, no offence, but I'm not...
I'm not gay.
- I'm a cop. - Well, I'm not a robber if you catch my drift?
I've been watching you.
I know what you're into. Who are you? I mean, I know who you're not.
You're not Nick Fisher. The guy whose apartment you're in.
I know because Nick spent eight years in Dade Correctional
for forcing himself on a 14-year-old cheerleader.
Dade County sent me a picture of Nick Fisher.
And you... are not him.
So... who the fuck are you?
I'm just a guy whose dinner's getting cold.
May I leave now?
- Come here. - What?
Dead bodies in refrigerators. Cops in men's rooms. You remind me of... James Bond.
That is the nicest thing anybody's ever said to me.
And The Boss, he could be Kananga.
Kananga?
- No, The Boss is no Kananga. - Well, who's The Boss?
Ernst Stavro Blofeld.
Which one? Donald Pleasance? Telly Savalas? Max von Sydow?
You know your Bond. But alas, I was referring to Anthony Dawson.
Who?
Well, he played Blofeld in From Russia With Love.
Well, you never see Blofeld's face in From Russia With Love.
And that's when the villain is most effective, when you don't know what he looks like.
So...
See you later.
Ah, that was incredible! - You...
- I just realized something. - What's that?
- I just made love to you. - You're just realizing that now?
And I have no idea who specifically you were referring to when you said James Bond.
Because earlier when you were telling me that I reminded you of James Bond,
and I was saying that it was the nicest thing anybody's ever said to me,
I naturally assumed...
You naturally assumed you knew who I was talking about.
Because if you don't - if you weren't talking about the guy I think that you're talking about,
well, you have me mistaken for somebody else, because in my mind there is only one Bond.
Well, on that we agree.
Same time on three.
- One... - Two...
- Three. George Lazenby. - Roger Moore.
- George Lazenby? - Roger Moore? I was kidding.
- Yeah, I was kidding. - You were?
The only James Bond is...
- Timothy Dalton. - Pierce Brosnan.
- Scotland forever. - I feel so much better.
Why are you going?
I'm just going to get us some coffee.
OK.
Hurry back to me.
Hey! Police.
Aw, come on, man.
I already talked to your buddy.
Good morning. I'm Detective Dumbrowski.
Good morning, Detective. Am I being kidnapped?
Nope. We just want to have a quick, friendly word with you.
Is this standard operating procedure you'd find in the policeman's manual
if you look up "quick, friendly word"?
There is no SOP for the box you got yourself into.
Oh.
- So what do you want to talk to me about? - You.
- What about me? - Who are you?
- Philosophically speaking? - Name.
- Rank, serial number... - You should really play ball.
You think I'm tall enough?
- What is your name? - Oh, yeah, I remember. Slevin Kelevra.
K- E-L-E-V-R-A.
- Kelevra. - Look, kid.
I don't know what's going on, or how you're into this,
but when I figure out what there is to figure out,
I'm not gonna be so nice to you.
Oh, this is nice. Don't do me any favors.
Last chance to come clean.
Take a walk.
I think this is the part where you tell me not to walk too far.
I have to go to work.
Hey.
- Hey, guys, what are you doing here? - Now's the time.
I've got at least... Jesus.
The Boss says he wants you to look nice for The Fairy.
You're early.
Why don't you come in and fix yourself a drink? I was just getting ready.
You'll have to excuse the...
I wasn't expecting you for...
You look good.
- You want some wine? - No.
Is something the matter?
Somebody's trying to kill you.
Who?
Me.
- That was close. - Yeah.
Close.
I hired you to do a job.
It wasn't supposed to look like a job.
So you take out the Israelis, bomb the damn building...
and now the job that was not supposed to look like a job's
beginning to look very much
like a job.
All right. Fuck it.
If the Rabbi wants a war...
...I'll give him a war.
Saul.
Saul, the phone's been...
Oh.
I thought you were Saul.
People have been thinking I'm somebody else.
Your predicament reminds me of a story.
Hitchcock. North By Northwest.
The movie where everybody thinks Cary Grant is a man named George Kaplan,
but the thing is there is no George Kaplan. It's just a made-up name.
But names, even made-up ones...
...can bring about quite a bit of trouble.
Now...
the woman in the picture with Grant,
- her name was er... - Eva Marie Saint.
- Oh... you know this movie. - I know this movie.
I took my father to see it in 1959. His English wasn't very good,
but boy, did he like Miss Saint.
After the movie he turned to me and he said, "She's a real Buick. "
You see, he couldn't pronounce the word beauty, so he'd say Buick.
- Caused quite a bit of confusion. - Using the wrong name'll do that.
Is that my money?
This is everything I owe you.
It's the Sabbath. You see, we don't answer the phone on the Sabbath.
I know.
Normally Saul turns off the ringer.
Saul!
I tell you, you can't find good help these days.
Saul's dead.
They're all dead.
Oh, I've been in this room before.
Looks the same as it did 20 years ago.
Somehow...
Somehow it seems different.
The way your car seems different when someone else is driving it.
Then again, it's been 20 years since I've been in a car.
Two decades spent behind three inches of bulletproof glass
due to a natural fear of high-powered rifles and quiet... rooftops in New Jersey.
20 years...
...locked away in my own paranoia, a prisoner in my own home.
Only to be delivered to fate by a boy.
Well, Anthony, it looks as though you've won. If such a term may be applied.
If I were wearing a hat, I would take it off.
Should we get on with it, then?
You can keep your hat on, Schlomo.
Looks like we were sold a bill of goods by the same salesman.
Nice speech, though.
I wish I was standing for it.
You... you brought this upon our heads.
- Me? - You... you hired Goodkat to kill my son.
After you murdered my son?
- I had no hand in that. - Oh, sure.
Just like in '84?
I suppose you had no hand in that either. Just a finger, maybe?
Time's up, Rabbi.
Lying to a dead man's the same as lying to yourself.
You were getting too big.
See...
...problem when two men are standing in a room
is you can only look at one of them and they were looking at you
with their backs turned, their shirt collars smiling at me.
Then they called you The Boss.
It was clear what had to be done.
Try and appreciate how it feels, Schlomo...
...to wake up in the middle of the night with six bullets burning in your stomach.
Lying in a pool of your own blood and shit.
The dead eyes of...
...of your wife... staring back at you.
The only thing keeping you from passing out
is the sound of the footsteps of the man going down the hall...
...looking for your son.
I managed to save my son, Schlomo.
And now...
...after all these years...
...in spite of our agreement!
You... you...
fucking backstabbing Philistine.
You managed to take my son away from me.
Well...
...now I've taken your son away from you.
I told you I had nothing to do with...
You haven't heard.
Will I?
Look at my face, Schlomo. Look at my smile.
Your son is dead.
I'm gonna kill you. Hm.
Rabbi.
Are you familiar with the Shmoo?
Fisher.
Fisher, listen to me.
I already told you,
I'm not Nick Fisher.
Then who is Nick Fisher?
I think you mean, who was Nick Fisher?
Fisher was the answer to a question.
How do you get to two men that can't be gotten to?
You get them to come to you.
But to do that... I needed a name.
And where do you find names?
In books.
And who has books?
Well, your bookies have books.
He's clean.
Crooked bookies...
- ... who work with big-time crooks. - So... why are you here?
I was looking for a gambler.
One who was in both books...
...with a lot of red in the minus column.
Got him.
And that's when I found Nick Fisher.
A lowlife that no-one was gonna miss.
1729.
Nick Fisher.
OK.
There was a time.
All that was left to do was make the phone ring.
All I had to do was pull the trigger and wait for you to call the man
who does the jobs that no-one else wants.
I want an outsider brought in.
There's a specialist.
Calls himself Mr. Goodkat.
Fine.
Tell him he can expect me in the morning.
Are you ready?
Yeah.
It's just that one last thing.
Mr. Goodkat.
It's been a long time.
I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr. Goodkat. So I'll get right down to business.
Slim Hopkins, the man who ran my book, was hit yesterday.
And I guess you've already heard about...
- ... my son. - Yes, I heard.
I need you to sort it out for me.
Who's the mark?
Yitzchok.
Yitzchok, The Rabbi's son?
You remember The Rabbi?
I remember The Rabbi well.
Thing is...
it can't look like a job.
If Yitzchok gets hit, The Rabbi will go to war.
So... I need you to make it look like it ain't what it is.
Can that be done?
Anything can be done.
Good. How?
Kansas City Shuffle.
I'm not familiar with the term.
I'll need to see Slim's books.
Slim's books were taken when he was hit, but... I do keep copies.
What are you looking for?
This is our guy. Nick - 1729.
1729.
Nick Fisher.
Why him?
A loser.
Pick him up. Bring him here.
Still not talking to each other, huh?
Can't say that I blame you.
- Why are you here? - Big job.
I was under the impression you no longer worked New York.
Like I said... very big job.
And you thought, as long as you're in town, you'd drop by and see your old pal Schlomo,
and say, "Hello. How about them Yanks?"
No. But something like that.
Only problem is you and I aren't old friends.
And I hate baseball.
And since we're not friends and you hate baseball, why the fuck are you here?
It's because we're not friends that I'm here.
Because if we had been friends, I wouldn't have been hired to kill your son.
Because that is right at the top of my list of things that friends do not do to their friends.
The good news for you is, my friendship is for sale.
You see, it seems to me that your son means more to you alive
than he does to The Boss dead.
And more money means more to me than less money.
And you are the guy that sleeps with all that green under your mattress.
I'm listening.
You will pay me double to kill The Boss what The Boss was paying me to kill Yitzchok.
- Ohh. - And that...
And that will make us friends.
Right, Rabbi?
Hm?
And... since friends do favors for their friends, you will do a favor for me.
Pray tell? What is this favor?
Concerns a matter of debt collection. One debt in particular.
Whose?
A flop. From Benny's book. Goes by the name of Nick Fisher.
Who is he?
Just a loser.
You just made a lot of money.
And then I was free to come and go as I pleased.
Hm?
Whatever they're paying you...
Oh.
There is nobody.
I did this to you.
- Me. - You.
Me.
Who are you?
Who is he?
Considering he no longer has fingerprints, I'd say it's unlikely we'll ever know.
What about dental records?
Sure, find the bottom half of the jaw, then all we need to do is find out who the dentist was.
What a fucking mess.
Hey, Brikowski, it's Marty. You there?
We found two more bodies to go along with the two you've already got.
All right, I'll be right over.
Did you ever get a hold of The Rabbi so he can get down here and identify what's left of his kid?
Negative. We've been calling for the last hour, no answer.
Send somebody over.
Copy.
You all right? You look a little shook-up.
No, I'm fine.
All right.
- Yeah. - Hey, Brikowski, it's Murphy.
Hey, Murph, what's up?
Harry Kello came by today. You remember Harry?
He retired a few years ago. His wife just died, so he comes in a couple of times a week,
talks shop, tells stories to the rooks.
Starts every sentence with, "The way things used to be". Guy living in the past.
- Yeah. Yeah, what about him? - We're making small talk.
Guy says he can't complain, then all he does is fuckin' complain.
His dead wife, the leg he got shot in, his crappy pension,
but then he stops when he sees the picture Marty snapped of your kid.
Just stares at it. I say, "What is it? You know the kid?"
Thing is, he ain't looking at the picture, but at the name.
I've got it written at the bottom. He knows that name: Slevin.
I have that same phone.
About an hour later the phone rings. It's Harry, talking like a goddamned machine gun.
Going on and on about a horse race back in '79.
Aqueduct.
Seven horse, tenth race - ring a bell?
It was a drug store handicap.
Big wind-up. Around the time The Boss, The Rabbi set up shop in New York.
Before people started waking up with knives in their backs.
Anyway, he goes on about this local legend, about this kid.
His name was Max.
Max placed a bet with a bookie named Roth.
Roth laid the bet off.
On you.
And you.
But when The Rabbi and The Boss find out the fix is in,
they are the opposite of happy.
Word comes down an example is to be made.
Aargh!
These guys kill everyone!
And I mean everyone.
Max, his wife, his kid, Roth...
even the goddamned horse died.
These guys went to town with a tomahawk. It was a fucking massacre.
They had to bring in a specialist to do the kid cos nobody would take the job.
What have you done with my son?
You?
No.
You're dead.
You're dead!
So Harry's going on about how they had to bring in a specialist to kill the kid.
But I ain't seeing the connection, so I says, "What has this to do with the case?"
He says. "The horse's name. "
I say. "What about the horse's name?"
He says the horse's name was Lucky Number Slevin.
- What is your name? - Slevin Kelevra.
Do you remember this part?
Please! I have a family.
Not any more, you don't.
Henry!
You fucking bastards!
The two of you killed everything I ever loved.
Fuck you both.
Now, there is no such person as Slevin Kelevra. As far as I can tell.
Which means the kid was using a pseudonym.
Which is interesting. Him picking the name of a dead racehorse
and keeping company with The Boss and The Rabbi,
seeing as they had some involvement with that very horse.
I thought to myself, maybe it means something.
Then again, maybe it's just a coincidence. Name's gotta come from someplace - right?
I guess none of this really matters now that the kid's gone cold.
Ah, one more thing. We've got a new guy in the precinct.
Jewish fella, funny little guy. Talks a lot.
Anyway, in case you're interested, he says the name Kelevra is Hebrew.
He says it means...
Bad dog.
20 years ago, he used to be my bookie.
I used to sign my pay cheques over to him.
Brikowski? You there?
Your girl made me.
She took my picture.
She's got to go in the ground.
OK.
I have something I have to tell you.
He told me that we needed to kill you.
You're gonna have to trust me.
Shit!
He's going to shoot you here.
I didn't think you'd understand.
I understood.
How did you find out about us?
I'm a world-class assassin, fuckhead.
How do you think I found out?
I thought you might want this.
I want to go home.
Neither of us is going home for a long time, kid.
My name is Goodkat.
You can call me Mr. Goodkat.
It's 20 minutes past four o'clock at WLNS and here's my new favorite song
by JR - The Kansas City Shuffle.