The Hunting Party Script - Dialogue Transcript

The Hunting Party Script

  
  
When I was a kid,

  
I used to carry
a rabbit's foot for good luck.

  
But in Somalia,
I traded it for two cold Budweisers

  
and a back issue of Penthouse.

  
You hear people talk
about the horrors of war all the time,

  
but the dirty little secret is,

  
if you're just reporting it,

  
war has its bright side as well.

  
I know, I know. I'm sacrilegious.

  
But being that close to death,

  
being that alive,

  
it's completely addictive.

  
And if anyone tells you otherwise,
they are lying.

  
Fuck!

  
I know.

  
I worked with Simon Hunt for nine years.

  
We worked as a team
for the network news covering wars

  
from El Salvador to Desert Storm
to the killing fields of Bosnia.

  
Are we moving or what?

  
Yes, we're moving.

  
I just wish I had a fucking Quaalude.

  
No one was crazier than he was.

  
No one was as dangerous,

  
as fun, or as good as he was.

  
Damn!

  
Even in the very worst of times.

  
God damn it.

  
You film any of that?

  
Are you kidding me?

  
Well, what the hell are we doing here,
writing for Travel and fucking Leisure?

  
We're here for one purpose
and one purpose only,

  
and that's to get some
goddamn news footage here.

  
That's why you're going to go back out
into this mess and shoot something.

  
Ridiculous.

  
Afraid not, Duckie Boy.

  
Okay. You film it.

  
- No, you fucking film it.
- You fucking film it.

  
I don't know how to use
the fucking camera.

  
Screw me.

  
Simon gave me balls
I never even knew I had.

  
Of course, during our years together
I got shot four times,

  
and Simon never got
as much as a scratch.

  
But together we won lots of awards.

  
Simon liked to point out, however,

  
that news awards were like hemorrhoids:

  
Eventually, every asshole gets one.

  
But the fact was
Simon was the best in the business,

  
and everyone knew it.

  
He cared the most.

  
He got the best stories.

  
But things started to change
during the winter of 1994 in Bosnia.

  
All the senseless brutality
of every war we had covered

  
crystallized in one perfect
winter of tragedy.

  
And then one day Simon snapped.

  
I guess everyone snaps
once in their lifetime:

  
At a boss...

  
at a lover...

  
at the world.

  
But Simon's was a doozy.

  
And I filmed it all,

  
recording it for every journalism major

  
to download from here to fucking eternity.

  
We now go to Simon Hunt
in Bosnia with the story.

  
Two years into a civil war

  
that has ravaged
this once multi-ethnic country,

  
Doctor Boghanovic's Bosnian Serb army

  
continues in its quest to liquidate
the Bosnian Muslims from this region,

  
today attacking yet another
supposed UN-protected village at will.

  
Simon, some are saying

  
that it was the Bosnian Muslims
who attacked first,

  
causing this latest battle.

  
- Simon, some are saying...
- It wasn't a battle, Franklin.

  
It wasn't a battle, it was a slaughter.

  
Well, Simon, certain
United Nations observers confirm...

  
Who are you talking about?

  
Are you talking about the Dutch?

  
The Dutch?

  
The Dutch were getting drunk

  
with the Serb army guys on slivovice

  
at the checkpoint earlier this morning.

  
- Okay, thank you, Simon Hunt...
- Safe areas?

  
These people were butchered!

  
Women were raped!

  
Children were murdered!

  
Oh, come on, Franklin!

  
Come on, don't get your panties
all in a twist.

  
- We're live, Simon.
- Lathered up.

  
You and your editor boys,
you can cut this part out of air.

  
Timid little network cunts.

  
There have been many distinguished

  
moments in television history.

  
This wasn't one of them.

  
After that, everything changed.

  
Simon, of course, got canned.

  
And I, on the other hand,

  
received the opposite end
of the network spear.

  
I got promoted.

  
Guess a little reward for having to endure

  
the embarrassment that was Simon Hunt

  
for all those years.

  
I got sent to New York and was offered
the cushiest job in the business:

  
Chief cameraman for Franklin Harris,

  
the network anchorman.

  
I suddenly had what
everyone else wanted:

  
World capitals,

  
state dinners,

  
first-class jets.

  
And I took advantage
of every gift bag they gave me.

  
Simon had it harder.

  
- Much harder.
- Simon Hunt here in Northern Gaza.

  
He stumbled through
a half dozen cable news jobs,

  
one more demeaning than the next...

  
What the fuck are you doing?

  
...which usually ended with him quitting

  
or getting fired for insubordination.

  
Got great tape!
Great, great tape!

  
Finally he hit the bottom rung
of a journalist's career:

  
Showing up at a war
on nobody's dime but his own.

  
$500.

  
I'll take five hundred.

  
A world exclusive.

  
Don't you owe me
300 from Gaza?

  
It's a shitty life.

  
Soon after that, I stopped hearing
from Simon altogether.

  
And then he dropped
completely off the radar.

  
There were rumors of spottings

  
in certain war zones
you wouldn't even want to fly over.

  
Stories like that.

  
And then slowly...

  
the stories stopped.

  
As for me?

  
Did I miss the action?

  
Did I want to go back
to the carnage and craziness?

  
The adrenaline and nonstop erection

  
that comes from fear and death and war?

  
Absolutely not.

  
And that was the lie I lived with.

  
- Watch the land mine.
- What?

  
Okay, that's not funny.

  
No, I just read there's
supposed to still be

  
over 500,000 un-detonated land mines
in this country.

  
You know, the last time I was here,

  
there was a sniper positioned right there

  
taking potshots at my ass.

  
Five-year anniversary. It's a good story.

  
Duck, you should talk
to some of your old contacts

  
and work with Benjamin.

  
I want to do something
on the reconciliation.

  
You know, Muslim and Serb widow
sort of thing.

  
- Yes, sir. It will be done.
- Good.

  
- Watch the land mine.
- What?

  
Okay, really, this isn't funny.

  
First overseas assignment

  
producing a piece on something

  
you seem to know very little about,

  
could be pretty damn funny.

  
Yeah, Franklin and my father

  
thought this would be a good
first foreign assignment for me.

  
You know, get my feet wet.

  
And whose kid are you again?

  
The network vice-president's.

  
- Oh.
- Yeah.

  
I'm trying to read everything I can,

  
but this war was complicated as all hell.

  
It was hell.

  
Ain't nothing complicated about that.

  
 Pusti, pusti, modu 

  
 Pusti, pusti, modu 

  
Look what the cat dragged in.

  
Duck!

  
He has actually graced us with his presence.

  
And his expense account.
Drinks on the network.

  
No, it's not.
Don't listen to anything he says.

  
Hey, man.

  
Back in the trenches
with the commoners, huh?

  
- Oh, Brady, you look great.
- Good to see you, man.

  
- You look like shit, mate.
- So does your mama.

  
It's all that money and pussy.
It's fucking destroyed him.

  
Two Sarajevskas, please.

  
Excuse me if I can afford a bar of soap.

  
All y'all look like y'all need a bath.

  
Duck!

  
- We have a very special guest this evening.
- What?

  
- And she's a virgin.
- No.

  
We gonna get her fucked up!

  
Your first time,
and you're traveling with Duck?

  
I hope you brought your flak jacket.

  
Last newbie who traveled with him
lost one of his balls.

  
It's true.

  
That's why they sent the Duck
back to New York.

  
He attracts mortar fire like shit attracts flies.

  
- Jubilee, buddy.
- Jubilee.

  
It's good to see you.

  
It's insane. NATO has 20,peace-keeping troops

  
in a country half the size of Kentucky,

  
and they can't find
any of these fucking war criminals.

  
There's no way this country is going
to get its economy back up

  
until it starts catching
some of these assholes.

  
Until they catch the Fox.

  
Now that would be a great story.

  
Yeah? Who's the Fox?

  
Where's that Bosnian war book
you've been reading?

  
Uh-oh.

  
It never gets old.

  
It's not pretty.

  
Thank you.

  
Doctor Dragoslav Boghanovic,
the Fox,

  
is the most wanted war criminal in Bosnia.

  
During the war,
he ordered the rape and murder

  
of thousands of innocent Muslims.

  
There's a $5 million bounty
on his little arrogant head.

  
Oh.

  
Yeah.

  
You got everyone from the UN,

  
CIA, and NATO,

  
and every bounty hunter
from here to Chuck Norris

  
looking for him.

  
I think that poor boy needs

  
some slivovice quick.

  
It's good.

  
It's brandy.

  
Yeah? How good?

  
Let's put it this way.
There's an old Bosnian saying

  
that when a bottle of this stuff
is on the table,

  
the devil's sitting in the corner laughing.

  
You know what I was just thinking of?

  
If every day is a holiday
at the Holiday Inn...

  
- That's not your room.
- I know.

  
Then what do they do...

  
What do they do about Christmas time?

  
Look, man,
if I don't see you at breakfast,

  
I'm going to have NATO send a task force

  
to search for you.

  
Okay.

  
Good night, Duck.

  
Hey, hey, hey!

  
Duck!

  
Oh, God.

  
Oh, God.

  
- Hello, Duckie.
- Oh, fuck!

  
Simon.

  
Surprise.

  
How the hell are you?

  
Get over here.

  
Been good.

  
Been good.
Been around.

  
Amazing how many
crappy wars you'll find

  
if you go looking for 'em.

  
- But you're okay?
- Yeah, sure. Yeah.

  
I've been getting through.

  
I hope you don't mind.
I raided your honor bar over there.

  
Purloined a few
of your little bottles of vodka.

  
So what else is new?

  
I watched you guys today
doing your report up on a bridge.

  
Franklin's not looking half bad.

  
He have some work done?

  
- Eyelift.
- Oh.

  
- But you were watching us, huh?
- Yeah. Yeah.

  
Yeah, I was...

  
I was hoping maybe I could convince you

  
to shoot my stand-up report
tomorrow at the ceremony.

  
You know, old times' sake.

  
Yeah, sure.

  
You know,
I could save a little money

  
if I didn't have to hire
a cameraman, so...

  
I'm going to sell it
to the Germans or Jamaicans.

  
Yeah.

  
Fuck, Simon.

  
You know, I meant to try
and track you down.

  
Don't worry about it.

  
Don't worry, Duck.

  
I heard rumors.

  
They're all true.

  
I got something, Duck.

  
Not just the anniversary,
I got a real story.

  
Something that could put me
right back on the map.

  
I thought you might be interested. Huh?

  
It's not like I don't want to.

  
I just...

  
You know, I'd do anything for you.

  
But I'm meeting this girl in Greece
the day after tomorrow,

  
and it's just not something
I can cancel, you know?

  
Just shitty timing.

  
I got this three-week vacation and all.

  
Look, but I'll still do
your stand-up tomorrow.

  
Look, l... I got to get out of here.

  
What, already?

  
Simon!

  
- Great to see you, Duck.
- Simon!

  
The white doves released
to denote peace around the world.

  
Peace especially in Sarajevo
and Bosnia-Herzegovina.

  
Simon Hunt.

  
I thought you were dead.

  
Franklin.

  
You look good.

  
Very taut.

  
Duck said you were coming by here.

  
That's fine with me
if you wanna piggyback with us.

  
- I got no hard feelings.
- Oh, thank you.

  
Thank you, Franklin.
Magnanimous as always.

  
I promise I won't try to steal Duckie back.

  
Oh, you can't afford him.
Hell, I could hardly afford him.

  
Benjamin, meet Simon Hunt,
a former star with our network.

  
Simon, Benjamin Strauss.

  
Benjamin, you look young enough
to be someone important's son.

  
Yeah. The network vice-president's.

  
You know, I thought you were dead, too.

  
What?

  
Simon used to be our best correspondent

  
till he flamed out on national television.

  
Yeah. No, I remember.

  
I mean, we studied it
in journalism school.

  
Reporting from
the five-year anniversary ceremony

  
for Jamaican television,
this is Simon Hunt in Sarajevo.

  
Reporting for Peruvian state television,

  
I'm Simon Hunt in Sarajevo.

  
Reporting for
the Polish television news network,

  
I'm Simon Hunt in Sarajevo.

  
I hope one of these bastards buys this.

  
Hope so.

  
Check the atlas.
I don't think you got any countries left.

  
Yeah, well,

  
considering what I got up my sleeve,

  
it won't matter much.

  
Hey, get this back to the hotel.
I'll meet you there later.

  
All right, daddy, what's the story?

  
You make the call?

  
What call?

  
To your little Greek souvlaki.

  
'Cause this story's too big to waste

  
if you're just going to get on a plane
like Facelift Franklin.

  
You're getting soft, Duckie.

  
You've gotten real soft
around the edges.

  
You're like a racehorse
that's been put out to pasture.

  
Yeah, and you can fuck off, Simon.

  
But when I know that you're ready
to do serious journalism,

  
instead of that anchorman fluff
they've reduced you to,

  
I'll fill you in, okay?

  
What's the story, you motherfucker?

  
It's good.

  
It's really good.

  
What?

  
What?

  
You know the Fox?

  
Pompous bastard who's responsible
for all of this?

  
Yeah.

  
I know where he's hiding.

  
So this great source of yours

  
knows where he's hiding,

  
just like that?

  
Yeah. Correct.

  
And we're going to find him
and score an interview.

  
Correct.

  
Go where no bounty hunter

  
or U.S. Marine has ever gone before.

  
Correct.

  
You are out of your fucking mind.

  
Okay. What about the bodyguards
that he travels with, Simon?

  
Have you thought about that?

  
Yeah. Word is he's got armed guards with him at all times.

  
Yeah? Well, I heard it's 50.

  
- Fifty?
- Fifty.

  
Maybe.

  
Actually, some people
believe he has none.

  
Stupid people.

  
Doesn't matter.

  
He's expecting NATO troops,
not two jerks in a car.

  
We can get right up to him.

  
I know the town.

  
- I have directions.
- You got directions?

  
What, somebody said
"Make a left at the first Quickie-Mart"?

  
I don't think they have
Quickie-Marts in Bosnia, Duckie.

  
Okay, Simon.
This great source of yours...

  
How do you even know
that you can trust him?

  
It's real.

  
He says he's hiding
up in the mountains of Celibici,

  
right by the border of Montenegro.

  
You go one step over the border,
NATO can't catch you.

  
No, no, no.

  
- They've been printing that gossip...
- He's there. He's in the mountains.

  
He's there! He...

  
He's an hour and a half
up an unpaved road.

  
He's surrounded
by sympathetic Bosnian Serbs

  
who will protect him...

  
at all costs.

  
That's just fucking great.

  
We're leaving first thing in the morning.

  
If you could see me in this bikini, Duck,
you wouldn't be doing this.

  
Come on. Come on, baby.

  
Look, it's... I promise it's just going
to be two more days, okay?

  
Oh, well, I can wait.

  
But I don't know for how long.

  
You're torturing me.

  
And you're torturing me.

  
So we're even.

  
Hello? Hello?

  
I must be a complete fucking idiot.

  
Hey, look, I know I'm new
and green and a joke to you,

  
but I just graduated
from Harvard, okay?

  
And I know something's up.

  
I haven't the slightest idea
what you're talking about.

  
Oh, come on.
You and Simon, you're onto a story.

  
Me and Simon are just hanging out.

  
I saw your girlfriend when she
came by the office two weeks ago.

  
She is hotter than hot.

  
You don't leave her in Greece to hang out.

  
You been listening to my conversations?

  
No.

  
No, it was, um...

  
No, the official term
is eavesdropping, all right?

  
Little shit.

  
Look, I know something's up, all right?

  
I want in on it.

  
Forget it. There's no story.

  
I went to Harvard, okay?
I know there's a story.

  
What is up with this Harvard shit?

  
You know, I dated a girl
from Harvard once,

  
and she wasn't so fucking bright.

  
Look, my father is a cold,
mean son of a bitch,

  
and he thinks I'm soft and weak

  
and not quite cut out for this type of work.

  
And there's no way on God's green earth
I'm going to prove that to him

  
by letting you get
a great story without me.

  
How do you know it's so great?

  
You're hanging out with a guy

  
who had a fucking meltdown
on national television

  
and is a punch line in the business.

  
If it wasn't good, you wouldn't be doing it.

  
Look at you.

  
Little Mike-fucking-Wallace.

  
Okay.

  
But Simon ain't going to like this.

  
Yeah?

  
Well, I ain't going to like Simon.

  
You see, his main bodyguard

  
is this psychopathic little fuck
named Srdjan.

  
He had a real fondness

  
for raping and mutilating
these very young Muslim girls

  
as he was ethnically cleansing the villages.

  
- Jesus.
- Oh, that ain't the good part.

  
Shit, the good part,
Benjamin, is this Srdjan,

  
the guy in charge of protecting the Fox,

  
he's got this tattoo on his forehead
that reads in Cyrillic,

  
"I was dead the day I was born."

  
They teach that evil shit at Harvard?

  
Now, we are headed right into the heart
of this Balkan madness,

  
into Serb territory.

  
Republica Srpska.

  
It's a backward land

  
where they will kill you
for trying to hurt Boghanovic

  
as easily as somebody kills a mosquito.

  
The Fox is their god.

  
People protect their god.

  
Now, if you're still interested...

  
we leave in 20 minutes.

  
Let's go find us some war criminals.

  
 20, 24 hours ago 

  
 I wanna... I wanna be 

  
 I wanna be sedated 

  
Hey, Benjamin, you know what that is
that we're passing?

  
Yeah, it looks like, uh, a ski lift.

  
'84 Winter Olympics

  
was held right here in Sarajevo.

  
Eight years later, the Fox used this area
as a staging ground for his snipers.

  
Won the gold medal, triple lutz.

  
Best all around scumbag.

  
Are you going to be playing that damn thing
all the way to Montenegro?

  
Yep. Simon never liked
my guitar playing.

  
Really?

  
Can't say I do, either.

  
So it's going to be like that, huh?

  
 20, 20, 24 hours a day 

  
- All right. Very funny.
-  I want to play the damn thing 

  
So what is your master plan?

  
You have a contact when we get to this town?

  
Nope. Never been up there before.

  
I'm just going to start knocking on doors.

  
You see that? Signs are in Cyrillic now.

  
We've entered Republica Srpska.

  
That quickly?

  
Ten minutes outside of Sarajevo,

  
and we're in the land
of milk and honey and rape and pillage.

  
- Are we going to be okay here?
- Who the hell knows?

  
But $5 million is $5 million,
and I'm not stopping.

  
$5 million?

  
Reward.

  
3 is for me.

  
The rest is for you guys
to split as you please.

  
Wait, wait, wait, wait. Reward?

  
You're not actually thinking
of capturing him, are you?

  
He may be thinking it,
but it ain't going to happen.

  
- Don't be so sure.
- Don't be so stupid.

  
After this interview's finished,
everything's in play, my friends.

  
Whoa. Hold on.
Duck, this is nuts.

  
You're not really supporting this, are you?

  
One time in Rwanda,

  
Simon decided he was going
to assassinate the leader of the Hutus

  
and end the war.

  
Three days later, he was in Morocco

  
getting a massage
from a hooker named Gladys.

  
Simon has his whims,
but this one I am not supporting.

  
This isn't a whim.

  
You know what this means to me.

  
Okay, we are journalists.
We can't do this.

  
It's... It's unethical and... and insane.

  
It would be a pleasure
to personally catch him.

  
By ourselves. By ourselves.
We don't even have any weapons.

  
If I gave you a gun,
would you know how to use it?

  
No.

  
Then what the fuck
are you complaining about?

  
I told you.

  
The moment you start drinking
that Bosnian brandy,

  
the devil's sitting in the corner
just laughing.

  
Do we know any actual facts at all, guys?

  
My buddy at Newsweek says

  
he's so afraid of getting caught

  
that he's grown his hair out
and has a full Orthodox beard.

  
Funny.'Cause I heard
he actually shaved his head.

  
He's bald as a turd.

  
Now, what we do know is that the Fox

  
drives in a convoy of orange cars.

  
All right?
So we should keep a lookout for them.

  
That's funny, Simon.
I heard he's traveling around

  
in a stolen UN de-mining vehicle.

  
Well then, we should keep
an eye out for that, too.

  
Yeah, that's great.

  
There's only a thousand
UN de-mining trucks in this country.

  
Why don't we stop each one?

  
"Hey, knock, knock.
Is the Fox in there? No?"

  
Okay, well, we should be done in,
what, say, 9 to 12 years.

  
One second he's pissing himself

  
'cause he's afraid we might
actually run into the Fox,

  
the next he's complaining
'cause we probably won't.

  
No, I'm not... I'm not complaining.

  
I'm mocking.

  
Wow.

  
The Doctor is not bald.

  
He is not desperate.

  
And he is not in Celibici.

  
He is everywhere.

  
He know everything.

  
He listens to everything you say.

  
And if you get close to the Fox,

  
if you corner him,

  
then even God can't help you.

  
What the fuck was that about?

  
A little warning.

  
Yeah? It seemed more like a threat.

  
Yeah. Beware of the nosy waiter
with Serbian pride.

  
Actually, it was the first time that I thought

  
that maybe Simon wasn't
jerking our chain.

  
Yeah? Why is that?

  
Because the guy in there said
that he's not in Celebici,

  
which means maybe
he actually is in Celebici.

  
Right.
Unless he's really not in Celebici.

  
Well, that's a possibility, too.

  
- Jeez!
- Holy shit!

  
Get down!

  
Hold on.

  
What in the fuck was that about, man?

  
Oh, my God.
Oh, my God.

  
We're going to die.

  
Every single person out here
knows exactly what we're doing.

  
Keep your panties dry, Benjamin.

  
- It had nothing to do with the Fox.
- What the hell do you mean?

  
It's just a little local tradition
to shoot at every customer?

  
Wait a minute.
Is that my money?

  
You mean the money I left on the table?
That's mine?

  
- Simon!
- Times are tight.

  
- Things happen. Sue me.
- Wait, wait, wait.

  
You stole the money
that was left for the bill?

  
- I needed it more.
- Okay, you got us shot at for 20 bucks.

  
I didn't know he was going
to shoot at us.

  
Unbelievable!

  
Much gunplay when you and Franklin

  
do your stories about
the president's new tax code?

  
- Fuck off.
- Come on, Duckie.

  
You enjoyed it, didn't you?

  
A little taste of what you left behind?

  
Don't say you didn't.

  
 It's a bad situation in a beautiful place 

  
 It's a bad situation in a beautiful place 

  
 It's a bad situation 

  
That pile of rubble used to be a mosque.

  
Now the town's
a hundred percent Bosnian Serb.

  
No Muslims left.

  
Ethnically cleansed for your protection.

  
Nice vibe, right?

  
There's a reason they say

  
the river runs red in Foca...

  
and it ain't because of the wine.

  
What does the Cyrillic say?

  
It says, "Don't touch him."

  
- Wait. Where are you going?
- The police.

  
Need a good laugh.

  
War criminals?

  
Believe it or not,
we don't even have a copy

  
of the complete indictment list.

  
- You don't?
- No.

  
Do you have a copy?
I could always Xerox it.

  
Miriam, is the copier working again?

  
Word has it there's a bunch of them
living right here in Foca.

  
Could be.

  
Unfortunately, we're here
to reform the police force,

  
not hunt for war criminals.

  
But it wouldn't be much hunting.

  
I mean, most of them are listed
right in the phone book.

  
As I said, we're not authorized
to arrest war criminals.

  
- You are the international police, right?
- Yes.

  
Under the flag of the United Nations.

  
I thought the UN was looking
for war criminals.

  
We are. Aggressively.

  
There's a $5 million reward, you know?

  
But you said you don't have
an indictment list.

  
We don't.

  
Donut?

  
Donut.

  
Flown in from Bonn.

  
Very black market.

  
I particularly like the chocolate ones
with the rainbow sprinkles.

  
You see, it's the UN that are looking
for war criminals,

  
not the UN police task force.

  
No, not the ones
who could actually catch them.

  
Well, that's one way of looking at it.

  
Sounds like the usual UN jerk-off to me.

  
You got any milk?

  
Look, we're headed up to Celibici now.

  
We just figured we'd stop in
and register with you

  
just in case we got killed
or something like that.

  
Well, consider yourselves registered.

  
Miriam, uh, be a love and get me a tea.

  
Four sugars.

  
Oh, and a glass of milk.

  
Is there any word

  
on what's going up there now?

  
Well, something.

  
It's third time this year
we've been ordered to stay away.

  
From Celibici?

  
Suspicious, no?

  
Yeah.

  
Who ordered you?

  
UN command.

  
Told us to stay away
for four or five days.

  
Jesus fucking Christ.

  
They tell the police
not to go up to Celebici.

  
I mean, he's actually up there.
I can't fucking believe this.

  
Why would they tell them
not to go up there?

  
Tell them not to go up there

  
because I don't want them
walking into a shootout.

  
Now, really...

  
tell me the truth.

  
Who the fuck are you guys?

  
I told you, we are journalists.

  
Journalists?

  
Yeah. You have our press credentials.

  
Yes.

  
Very professionally done.

  
So, uh, you are journalists who believe

  
that they can get close to someone
that no one else can.

  
Yeah. What's the problem?

  
I understand.

  
I understand.

  
You are journalists on a story.

  
What, you think we're just posing
as journalists?

  
Do you like beer?
I like beer. Do you like beer?

  
Let's get a beer.

  
For a group of UN guards to go,
it's too dangerous.

  
For you guys? Sure, why not?

  
Go to Celibici.

  
Do the world a favor.

  
I'm sorry, are you still insinuating
we're a CIA hit squad or something?

  
I'm sorry, are you still insinuating
you're journalists?

  
Look, um...

  
I know things.

  
I know how things operate.

  
I've been waiting for you.

  
Certain things need to be taken
care of professionally, right?

  
- Took me months...
- Shh.

  
Took me months to gain the trust
of certain people

  
who normally would be protecting
the Fox.

  
That's how I know you didn't just stumble on
the fact he's up in Celibici.

  
Well, it's been printed in the press.

  
So has the horoscopes.
Do you believe them?

  
- You're not making any sense now.
- I know.

  
I'm the United Nations.

  
And fact is, the United Nations...

  
Oh, fuck.
The French specifically,

  
they have no interest
in catching the Fox.

  
They would be happy
if he killed all the Muslims.

  
Save them all this money and energy.

  
John Major and the British
backed the Fox,

  
even though they would never
publicly admit it.

  
And the Americans...
Yeah, they brokered the peace agreement,

  
but some would suggest
they made a secret deal with the Fox

  
that if he stepped down from power,

  
they would not arrest him for war crimes.

  
Who knows what's true, what isn't?
The whole fucking thing is dirty.

  
But in dirty times...

  
dirty deeds need to be done, right?

  
One arm of the government said
it would do something, does nothing.

  
That would be us.

  
The other hand...

  
CIA...

  
whoever...

  
does something else.

  
I mean, look at you guys.

  
Do you really think you're fooling anyone?

  
He thinks we're a hit squad.

  
- He thinks we're a fucking hit squad!
- Yeah, this can't be good.

  
Isn't it illegal, impersonating a CIA officer?

  
Yeah, but we denied it.

  
Yeah, he didn't believe it.

  
It's true.
It's like the more we fucking denied it,

  
the more he didn't believe it.

  
Yeah, the problem is,
if you were CIA you would deny it.

  
And if you weren't,
you would also deny it.

  
Actually he's not that far
off the mark, you know?

  
I mean, we're not CIA,

  
but we can do a lot more

  
than just interview the Fox.

  
Wait. Hold up.

  
- Simon.
- What?

  
Now, you're not still
on this capturing jag?

  
It's not a jag.

  
Not a jag, not a whim.
Especially now.

  
Especially since Boris basically confirmed
that he's hiding out up there.

  
Okay. Now, now, Simon,

  
I was willing to come along with you

  
and try to even get close enough
to this psychopathic fuck

  
to try and get an interview.

  
But we are not capturing him.

  
I mean, look at us.

  
That's not what we do.

  
I'm checking into that hotel

  
down the road.

  
I'm taking a shower,
a shit, and a Seconal.

  
Tomorrow morning I'm getting up,

  
I'm driving up that mountain to Celibici,

  
and I am finding the Fox.

  
Now, you're welcome to join me, Duckie,

  
or you're welcome to fuck off.

  
Your choice.

  
You think this is crazy too, huh?

  
I mean, just trying
to get an interview is crazy.

  
But we're not mercenaries.

  
Yeah, well, I'm supposed to be
on fucking vacation.

  
And it makes sense why he had
a meltdown on air.

  
He's a goddamn nut job.

  
Yeah, Simon is a goddamn nut job,

  
but his meltdown wasn't for nothing.

  
We'd seen some horrible stuff that day.

  
Yeah, reporters see horrible things
all the time.

  
That's what they do.

  
Yeah.

  
Look, I saw the tape, okay?
He was drunk, high.

  
He just fucking lost it.

  
He lost it then,
and he's losing it now.

  
There was these two girls, right?

  
Named Marda and Una.

  
They said they were cousins but...

  
We used to hang out together
from time to time.

  
Who the hell knows why they were there.

  
It was war.

  
People was broke.

  
People did things.

  
All I know is...

  
we had a good time.

  
They were our friends.

  
Somewhere along the line,

  
maybe the second
or third year into the war,

  
Simon and Marda,
they had a little thing.

  
Hell, it was more than a little thing.

  
Simon, he liked her.

  
He did things for her.

  
Whatever little money he had, he gave her.

  
They didn't spend that much time together.

  
But it was war, how can you?

  
But Simon,
in his own little crazy way,

  
he loved her.

  
Now, you fast-forward six months.

  
Sarajevo's under siege worse than ever.

  
And we haven't heard from Marda
or her cousin for months now.

  
And only thing we knew

  
was that Marda had gone back to Polje

  
to help out her mother.

  
And then one day we hear
about a serious incident in Polje,

  
and we go there to cover it.

  
The horrors we saw.

  
Fucking inhuman.

  
Neither Simon nor I said anything,

  
you know, although we both knew

  
that Marda was from this town.

  
We just got ready to do our job,

  
cover our story.

  
Inez,

  
Jasmine,

  
Amar,

  
Amin.

  
No?

  
How about Aidan?

  
Or how about Simon Junior?

  
And then there she was.

  
Twenty minutes before
we went on the air.

  
They had shot her in her stomach five times.

  
So don't believe everything
that you learn in journalism school,

  
'cause in war...

  
what you see

  
and what really happened

  
are sometimes two very different things.

  
Oh, my God!
Oh, my God!

  
Simon!

  
Simon, no! No! No!

  
Okay? Okay? Come on.

  
- It's all right.
- You okay?

  
Wait! Simon, no! Wait!

  
- Let go!
- No! Simon! Come on!

  
You fucking shit!

  
No! No! No!

  
No! Please, Simon.

  
Please.

  
It's okay.

  
Fuck.

  
Oh, fuck, man.

  
I know.

  
Watch the land mines.

  
Okay, shut up.

  
You see that?

  
What was that? A lookout?

  
My God, Duck.
I think he's really up there.

  
They're watching every car
that goes up this mountain.

  
Hold on, boys.
It's going to be a bumpy ride.

  
Wait, hold on.

  
Wait, wait, wait.

  
Back, back, back, back, back.

  
You are out of your mind.

  
Correct.

  
Where's the welcoming committee?

  
Be thankful that there aren't
50 Kalashnikovs pointed at our heads.

  
So what are you going to do?

  
I'm going to do what
any good journalist would do

  
when he gets to a new place.

  
Yeah? What's that?

  
I'm going to find a bar.

  
Doesn't exactly look like they get
many newcomers in here.

  
Just keep smiling. You'll be fine.

  
What did he say?

  
He said you're about skinny enough
to be used as bait.

  
- Yeah. It's a fishing joke.
- Yeah, no. I get it.

  
Duck, I hope you have money.

  
What happened to the I gave you yesterday?

  
Simon, save some for me.

  
What is he saying?

  
He just sold you and me out.

  
- Thank you, Simon.
- Great.

  
You're welcome.

  
Do you really think we would
sell out leader of our people

  
for a simple glass of cheap brandy?

  
Do you really think the people
of Republica Srpska are that weak?

  
We don't go University like you people do.

  
But we are not dumb,
and we don't like to be made fun of.

  
We are not making fun of you.

  
Bullshit! You continue even now.

  
Don't insult me by acting otherwise.

  
Okay, we don't want any trouble.

  
You know how I got
these animals on wall?

  
- I shoot them.
- All right.

  
We're going to be leaving now.

  
Yes, I think so.

  
- One question before we go.
- Simon...

  
Did you ever go hunting with him?

  
I mean, uh, he got his nickname
because he loved to hunt foxes.

  
You obviously love to hunt foxes.

  
I was just wondering.

  
In a war, I kill people like you.

  
The war is over.

  
Yes, yes, it is.

  
Wait.

  
Did you hunt with him?

  
- For fuck's sake, Simon.
- You are one brave motherfucker.

  
Hey. Duck.

  
Duck, look.

  
You're just like those stupid
United Nations people

  
that poke around,
seeing if one of us will talk.

  
You tell your friends
that we know nothing here.

  
Tell them that we lost loved ones
in the war, too.

  
Not just the Muslims.

  
You tell them that.

  
I make sure you get back down the road
without dying.

  
Or at least I do my best.

  
What do you mean, you saw his cars?

  
While you were back there
being a complete fucking asshole,

  
Benjamin saw them out the door.

  
Jesus. Which way did they go?

  
- Back down the mountain.
- Go!

  
Get in the car!

  
Shit! Fuck!

  
What are we going to do,
run 'em off the road?

  
- I don't know.
- These men are killers, Simon!

  
- Fuck these roads!
- Simon.

  
Kid's got a point.

  
So does my dick.

  
What exactly are you planning on doing?

  
You got three cars that's full of them!

  
Yeah, I'm going to call
the UN or NATO or someone.

  
- No fucking calls.
- What the hell?

  
- You madman! That was my phone!
- No calls!

  
No NATO! No UN! Nothing!

  
I don't trust anybody!

  
- Holy shit.
- Fuck.

  
Simon, I swear to God, if you do
something stupid, I'll kill you myself.

  
- Hi.
- Hi. Get out of the car.

  
No, we're just tourists
on our way to Montenegro.

  
Yeah, get out of the fucking car now!

  
Oh, my God.
We're going to fucking die.

  
- Stay calm.
- Out!

  
You're making a mistake here
because we're just passing...

  
On the ground!

  
- Get the fuck on the ground!
- Just don't panic.

  
- Shut the fuck up.
- What are you waiting for? Come on.

  
- No, nothing. Okay. Okay.
- Come on. Come on.

  
Out. Out. You, too. Out.
Come on. Come on.

  
- This was all a misunderstanding.
- Shut the fuck up!

  
On the ground now! Get down.

  
- On the ground now.
- Okay, okay, okay.

  
You don't have to worry about us.
We're just journalists!

  
- You do not have...
- Shut up!

  
Simon?

  
Goran? Fucking hell!

  
Shit. Fucking Simon Hunt!

  
You know this motherfucker?

  
Sascha!
Simon Hunt!

  
Goran, you crazy, thick-necked
Croatian son of a bitch!

  
- How are you?
- I'm good, I'm good.

  
- We almost kill you, man.
- Yeah, no shit.

  
Listen, never drive on our road.

  
But if you do, call first us, okay?

  
Okay. All right. I promise. I promise.

  
Laugh at all their jokes.

  
Whatever you do, don't stare at the midget.

  
What midget?

  
They're black marketeers.

  
- They run stuff that comes in through Croatia.
- Okay.

  
- Simon!
- Sascha!

  
- Oh, shit, I'm staring at the midget.
- Well, stop.

  
Where the fuck my money?

  
Beautiful guitar, it's yours.
Go ahead.

  
Un-fucking-believable.

  
Yeah, it's, like, twice his size.

  
Fucking greedy midget.

  
What?

  
I'll pay you back.

  
I'll pay you both back.

  
- Duck?
- Hey, baby.

  
Wait, I can hardly hear you.

  
Costas, can you turn down
the stereo, please?

  
- Where are you?
- I'm fine.

  
No. Baby, I said where are you?

  
Oh, oh, yeah. I'm on Gaspar's boat.

  
Who is Gaspar?

  
Costas and Lola's friend.
No, no more champagne.

  
No, talk to me!
Who is Costas and Lola?

  
Look baby, I can hardly hear you.

  
The connection's horrible.

  
When are you coming?

  
I'm going to be there tomorrow morning.

  
First flight out.

  
Okay. But you better hurry!

  
Georgio, no! I'm ticklish!

  
Wait a minute! Who is Georgio?

  
- You can't slap my butt like that.
- What? No! Put Georgio on the phone!

  
I want to talk to Georgio!

  
Hello?

  
Oh, my God.

  
So you ran into the midget.

  
It's better than running over the midget.

  
And how'd you know?

  
Look. We cannot talk here.

  
I didn't know we were talking.

  
We're not talking.

  
Well, it looks like we're talking.

  
Visegrad. Dobran Tunnel,
tonight at 9.

  
Things are heating up.

  
Why do you keep breaking into my room?

  
Look, I'm between places right now.

  
I needed a bath.

  
So what the hell are you going to do, Simon?

  
You're broke.

  
You owe midgets.

  
I dream about him, Duck.

  
I dream about catching him.

  
Wiping that arrogant smile off his face.

  
My whole fucking situation,

  
every bad thing that's ever happened
to me, stems from that bastard.

  
I was flying high before that war.

  
I know.

  
We were a fucking great team.

  
The best.

  
And then it all went to shit.

  
Finding him would've been
so fucking brilliant.

  
Maybe you should call your source again.

  
What?

  
What?

  
There is no source.

  
I made up the whole story.

  
You are un-fucking-believable.

  
I heard rumors that
the Fox was up in Celebici.

  
I thought if I had a source,
it'd push you over to joining me, so...

  
You know, I must be a fucking idiot.

  
No, I'm an asshole.

  
No, all this time, you've been
making fun of my life in New York.

  
Joking about how
I'm not the man that I used to be?

  
Let me share something with you, Simon.
You're not the man you used to be, either.

  
You are far fucking from it.

  
Dry your dick off
and get the fuck outta my room.

  
Lady, do you...

  
Look, I'm just trying to change my...

  
Hello? Hello?

  
Yes, I made it up.

  
- Shit, Simon.
- We weren't wrong, you know?

  
Boris, the UN guy, he thought
we were right on his trail.

  
- Yeah, well, he still does.
- What do you mean?

  
I just saw him in the lobby,

  
and he wants to meet
his favorite CIA hit squad

  
at that burnt-out tunnel in Visegrad tonight.

  
- He said, "Things are heating up."
- He did?

  
Yes. The whole damn thing
is fucking ridiculous.

  
Why the hell didn't you tell me?
We got to get going!

  
So at what point do we get
jumped and killed?

  
I'm not doing what I'm doing.

  
I mean, clearly I'm doing this,
but I'm not doing this,

  
because if I was doing this, I could
get into a lot of trouble for doing it.

  
What the fuck, Boris?

  
Yeah.

  
She might seem
young and beautiful to you,

  
but she would cut your balls off
and sell them as trinkets

  
if she thinks you're fucking
with her. Okay?

  
Boris?

  
Who are you talking about?

  
The person I spoke to about your mission.

  
Mirjana.

  
She is going to lead you to the Fox.

  
Come.

  
Sit down.

  
Sit.

  
I'm no friend of the Muslims.

  
Right at the start of the war,
they got some girls from my school.

  
Look, it was shitty on all sides, okay?

  
You don't know shitty until you've been
gang-raped for seven hours.

  
- Where's Boris?
- This is not about justice.

  
I am and always will be a proud Serb.

  
This is about money.

  
My father had a system.
Made us money.

  
Then Boghanovic's men took over.

  
Wanted what we had.

  
Now they run the petrol and cigarettes
coming in from Serbia.

  
Use that money to protect him.

  
But they killed my father.

  
And now we have nothing.

  
I hate nothing.

  
You stop them,
I get my family business back.

  
What do we get?

  
What you came to Bosnia to get.

  
And how do we do that?

  
My old boyfriend, he is one of his guards.

  
Midac.

  
He is in love with me, calls me every day.

  
I have no interest in him anymore,
but I still talk to him

  
because I know one day
the CIA will come to my home.

  
- How many guards?
- Ten.

  
- We're just three.
- Three of you is thirty of them.

  
They are fat and lazy and bored
out of their minds in the countryside.

  
And you know exactly where he is?

  
I can.

  
Now you give me thousand marks.

  
A thou... Are you out or your fucking mind?

  
No. I want goodwill gesture.

  
My goodwill has disappeared, lady.

  
I risk everything talking to you.

  
We just can't.

  
I need assurance
you don't take advantage of me.

  
If you guys are not serious, forget it.

  
The Agency has strict rules.

  
We're not authorized for payments.

  
Others in the company are, but not us.

  
Weaker divisions are.
Smaller divisions.

  
You know what we do.

  
You know who we are.

  
You know our reputations and our accuracy
in achieving our goals around the world.

  
A single bullet from us can end wars...

  
or start them.

  
Now, you're worried about others killing you,

  
but what you should most be worried about
are the three people in this room

  
and the reputations
that they bring with them.

  
We will do what we need to do
to achieve our goals.

  
Right now, you're standing in the way
of us achieving those goals.

  
You can help us, and you'll no longer
be hindering our operation.

  
You can ignore us,
and I cannot guarantee your safety.

  
The Agency is, I'm afraid to say,
completely humorless about these issues.

  
Okay.

  
Tomorrow, when he call, I will find out
what we all need to know.

  
Good.

  
Un-fucking-believable, Benji!

  
I didn't think you had it in you!

  
That's the ballsiest fucking thing
I've ever seen in my life.

  
You're a madman.

  
I think she's just full of shit
and trying to play us,

  
but it's better to find out for sure.

  
I don't know what we got
into here, gentlemen,

  
but I fucking love it.

  
You know, when you think about it,
the whole thing is fucking ridiculous.

  
Why?

  
I could very well be CIA.

  
You can't even spell CIA.

  
Every fucking CIA guy I know
looks exactly like me.

  
Yeah, only better-looking.

  
They certainly do not look like me.

  
And that is the genius of it.

  
The CIA would have someone
who doesn't look CIA.

  
That's...

  
That's exactly what they would do.

  
- What?
- I think we're being followed.

  
- What?
- What do you mean?

  
What part of "I think we're being followed"
do you not understand?

  
Jesus Christ.

  
He's right with me every turn.

  
Who could it be?

  
- Jesus fucking hell!
- We can't stop.

  
We got to get back to Sarajevo.

  
Yeah, no shit.

  
We got one problem.

  
That right turn I made back there?

  
We're not heading toward Sarajevo.

  
- We're heading toward Pale.
- Oh, God damn it!

  
Why? What's Pale?

  
Just the worst place we possibly could go.

  
It's where the Fox lived during the war.

  
- It's just Serb country.
- Fucking peachy.

  
- Fucking hell!
- Jesus!

  
What's your fucking problem!

  
- Shit!
- Okay, okay.

  
Fucking shit!

  
Speed up! Speed up! Speed up!

  
Hold tight! Hold on!

  
How come every time I'm with you, Simon,
I put my life in danger?

  
Because, my old friend,

  
putting your life in danger
is actual living.

  
The rest is television.

  
You need me to remind you of that.

  
We got to be extra careful.

  
Don't talk to anyone in the hotel.

  
- Don't talk on a cell phone.
- That won't be a problem.

  
Trust me, guys, trust me.

  
We have stepped into something here.

  
People are worried.
People are watching.

  
Who the fuck is this guy?
Who the fuck is that guy listening to us?

  
Nobody's listening to us!

  
What, we got to be afraid
of the hotel help now?

  
Trust nobody.

  
The only person I don't trust is you.

  
Are you sleeping in my room?

  
- Yes.
- Well, you kids have fun.

  
Look, Simon.

  
I mean, I would be lying if I wasn't secretly
hoping all this stuff is true.

  
But we're no closer to finding
the Fox than anybody else.

  
I mean, Boris is a nut.

  
Mirjana's a con artist.

  
And that guy following us on the road
is just some drunk

  
or your little midget friend
wanting to wrestle.

  
You were saying?

  
We got to get outta here.

  
- Fucking don't move.
- Okay, okay, okay!

  
You wanted to find Fox?

  
Well, now Fox want to find you.

  
I'm sorry. I don't know
what you're saying, okay?

  
I'm sorry, I don't understand!
I don't speak your language!

  
I don't know what you're saying!
I don't know what you're saying!

  
Duck! Duck!
I don't know what he's saying!

  
I don't know what he's saying!

  
No. No, no, no, no, no.

  
We are not CIA.

  
I'm sorry. I don't understand
what you're saying.

  
We are not CIA!
We are journalists!

  
No, we are journalists!

  
Duck! Duck, what is he saying?

  
I don't understand what you're saying!
We are not CIA!

  
Don't! Stop it! Stop it!
I don't know what you're saying!

  
Stop it! Stop it!

  
The truth emerges.

  
There's been a giant mix-up here.

  
What mix-up?

  
We know everything.

  
Especially when CIA is here.

  
No, we're not CIA.

  
We're really not C... Fuck!

  
For weeks we've been hearing rumors
that CIA is here.

  
The CIA is coming for me.

  
We hear everything.

  
We know everything.

  
This is the thing. We're not CIA.

  
We're just journalists.

  
Just journalists. We just came...

  
We were trying to get an interview with you.

  
But you tell others that you are CIA.

  
No! No, no, we didn't.
We didn't say anything...

  
You said to Boris.

  
No. We didn't. We didn't say that.

  
He was just really confused.

  
We're really just journalists.

  
And we're not here to hurt you.

  
Srdjan.

  
No, no, no!

  
Oh, no, please don't do it!

  
You can't do it.

  
 You 

  
 You make me feel brand-new 

  
- Hello?
- You got to be fucking kidding me.

  
Fox!

  
Fox went out the back!
He's out the back!

  
Move in!

  
Guys, move it!

  
Extraction team 107,
this is Firebase Lima. Stand by.

  
Look, this is a news event.

  
We are newsmen.

  
We want off the copter now.

  
- You ever heard of freedom of the press?
- Not in Bosnia, sir, no.

  
All right. Jazzy, let's start this bird up.

  
Wait. Where are we going, exactly?

  
Hey, excuse me. Did you catch him?

  
That's classified information.

  
Classified.

  
Correct. Classified.

  
So you're saying you didn't catch him?

  
He was right fucking there!

  
Just what are you insinuating?

  
I was an inch... an inch from this guy!

  
He was there!

  
We saved your life.
That was our mission.

  
You cut it pretty close, don't you think?

  
We did our job. Now you guys
got to get the hell out of this country.

  
No. No, I think there's a pretty good story
to tell inside this country.

  
I was nose-to-nose with the most wanted
fugitive in the world.

  
Let me tell you something, Mr. Cunt.

  
- Hunt.
- Mr. Hunt.

  
You're lucky I haven't already
arrested your sorry ass

  
and thrown you in a dark fucking hole
with no fucking exits.

  
Arrested for what?

  
Impersonating a CIA officer
is a serious offense.

  
Jesus fuck.
We never impersonated anyone.

  
Your friend Boris is on a plane for Uganda
where he will now be stationed.

  
But before he was suddenly
transferred to darkest Africa

  
to never be heard from again,

  
we confronted him
about your little representation.

  
If I ever hear from you again,

  
the CIA will be on you like a cheap suit
from the Men's Wearhouse.

  
You'll be arrested, jailed,

  
and sodomized by a big, dumb,
large-cocked Serbian bastard

  
for the rest of your shitty little lives.

  
And if you don't care about that,
if you like big Serbian cock,

  
and you still plan
on reporting any of this,

  
then your friend Boris
will find himself eaten

  
by a tiger or lion or a squirrel

  
or whatever fucking animal
we can find in darkest Africa.

  
And you'll have to live with that.

  
I assume that I can quote you
on the squirrel remark.

  
Look, Cunt.

  
The CIA has a bright side,
the CIA has a dark side,

  
and then there's the gray side.

  
We do the things that people
don't need to know about.

  
It's a part we deny even exists.

  
It's a part of the CIA that's been working for
the last three weeks in Bosnia on the Fox.

  
And what have you been working on doing,
letting him disappear?

  
Let me ask you a question.

  
Why do you think the CIA
would want to let a war criminal go?

  
Let me ask you a question.

  
In five years, why has the CIA,

  
the Hague, the United Nations, and NATO

  
not been able to find a guy
that we found in just two days

  
if you actually wanted to find him?

  
We're giving you a one-way ticket home.

  
I suggest you use it.

  
We're not saving your asses again.

  
From this moment on,
the story's being written by others.

  
The Americans, yeah,
they brokered the peace agreement,

  
but some would suggest they
made a secret deal with the Fox,

  
that if he stepped down from power
they would not arrest him for war crimes.

  
You ever flown in
one of these puppies before?

  
You won't have feeling
in your ass for a week.

  
- Great.
- It's nice they packed for us.

  
So what are you going to do?

  
I don't know.
Go to Greece with Duck.

  
Share some moussaka
with him and his girlfriend.

  
Duck?

  
Duck?

  
What is it?

  
They sent Boris out of this country

  
because he was actually
trying to catch the Fox.

  
They're sending us away
because we found him.

  
No, he found us.
We're lucky we still have our heads.

  
No, it's like no one in a position
of power in this place

  
even wants to try and catch that bastard.

  
And that's just wrong.

  
Yeah.

  
What are you saying?

  
I'm saying we can't leave.

  
I think I just wet myself.

  
All right.

  
Yeah.

  
Yeah, let's go get this bastard.

  
Okay, gentlemen, load 'em up.
We're ready to go.

  
Prepare plane for taxi.

  
All right, um, what's the plan?

  
Run.

  
Run? That's your plan?

  
Yeah. Run.

  
As a kid I never dreamed

  
about being an action hero.

  
But, as Boris said, in dirty times,
dirty deeds need to be done.

  
The rest of the story,
I guess, is urban legend.

  
I'd tell you it was true,
but you'd never believe me anyway.

  
Mirjana did find out
where the Fox was hiding,

  
and that gave us the idea of how
the three of us could catch him.

  
You see, you can't go hunting
with ten bodyguards.

  
It's too noisy.

  
It scares off the animals.

  
Doctor?

  
Where is the rest of your team?

  
There ain't no team, you motherfucker.

  
It's just us.

  
I get you $5 million.

  
United States currency.

  
Take it. It's yours.

  
We get $5 million just for turning you in.

  
You turn me in, and then what?

  
They are more afraid of me
than I am of them.

  
You do not have the balls to kill me.

  
And you do not have the balls
to take my money.

  
And you do not have the balls

  
to see what the international community

  
will do or not do to me.

  
You have nothing.

  
That's why we've got to change the rules.

  
If the power comes back on,
it still doesn't mean you can leave.

  
I'm never leaving.

  
I'll have myself surgically attached to you.

  
This was Marda's town.

  
It's one of the few places
Muslims came back to.

  
They'll know best what to do with him.

  
Let me borrow 50 bucks.

  
What? We just left $5 million
tied to the side of the road.

  
You want to borrow 50 bucks?

  
Actually, make it a hundred.

  
You know, when all this hits,

  
it's going to be a shit-storm of
international denial and cover-ups.

  
Maybe you could talk to your father,
get me that gig to report it.

  
Then I can pay you back.

  
All right.

  
So what are you going to do?

  
You going to stay and cover it?

  
Are you?

  
I got the cushy gig in New York.

  
The girl in Greece.

  
The story...

  
The story's going to be right here.

  
Just play something decent on this, will you?

  
For once?

  
Simon, you're the only man I know
who would borrow money

  
to repay a debt that you took to repay a debt.

  
And that's why you love me.

  
That's why I love you.

  
 I fought the law, and the law won 

  
 I fought the law, and the law won