Lucky Number Slevin Script - Dialogue Transcript

Lucky Number Slevin Script

  
  
There's number 5.

  
He's moving through between horses.

  
Number 6 is under a very hard...

  
Number 4 breaks into the inside...

  
... he's shooting on through.

  
Number 1 on the inside

  
pokes a nose in front...

  
He's clean.

  
So...

  
Why are you here? Hmm?

  
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-hmm.

  
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.

  
It's not something people hear about.

  
Falls on deaf ears, mostly.

  
But this particular one's
been over 20 years in the making.

  
Twenty years, huh?

  
No small matter.

  
Requires a lot of planning.

  
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 nobbler from Antwerp, known
for his savvy, but not for his discretion.

  
Fuck me, baby.
Fuck me, baby. Come on, baby.

  
The same could be said
for Doc's jelly on the side... Gloria.

  
- Oh, God.
- Almost there. Almost...

  
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?

  
Uh... 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?
- Mm-hmm.

  
Well, Gloria's got this friend Doc
who's got a line on a doped-up racehorse.

  
The fix is in at Aqueduct.
7 horse, tenth race.

  
- Doped up?
- Yeah.

  
And then there was this joker
who had ears...

  
Keep it under your hat, huh?

  
Let's get back.

  
... and who looked
like he could be somebody's uncle.

  
Hey, Max, who's your favorite uncle?

  
Okay, 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 leavin'.

  
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.

  
All right, if your ma asks,
where were we today?

  
Shea Stadium.

  
- To see?
- Mets-Phillies.

  
Good man.
Give me the postgame.

  
Stalium 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.

  
Jesse Gonder hit a groundball
in the hole between first and second,

  
but the guy's so slow,

  
that second baseman Tony Taylor
tagged him out at first.

  
Did you get all that from the radio?

  
Mm-hmm.

  
You're good.

  
Okay, I'll be right back.

  
No, no, no, no.
You gotta stay in the car.

  
Why?

  
Because they don't let little boys
inside the track.

  
Saul's dad takes him to the track.

  
Yeah, 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 gonna 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 gotta stay in the car.

  
Hey.

  
Next weekend,
you and me go to a ballgame.

  
- Okay.
- Okay?

  
- Love you, kiddo.
- Love you, too, Dad.

  
Wait... watch.
Watch, watch, watch.

  
Almost forgot.

  
Fifteen minutes.
Start counting.

  
Our next race
at Aqueduct is the tenth race.

  
It's at a distance of one furlong.

  
Come on, come on.

  
Come on, come on.

  
The final turn,

  
and number 7 has moved
to the fifth position on the outside.

  
Number 2 takes the lead.

  
Come on, come on.

  
Number 1 is at the rail,

  
and number 7 is beginning
to pick up the pace on the outside.

  
Yes!

  
Yes! Come on, baby! Come on!

  
Go! Let's go!

  
- And number 7 takes the lead!
- Yes, yes!

  
Come on, come on!

  
Yeah!

  
Number 7 has fallen!

  
And number 1 goes on
and takes the lead to win it.

  
Max woke up to find that
his dreams had just been the stuff of pipes.

  
I wanna place a bet.

  
- How much?
- Twenty large.

  
Oh, you must feel real lucky.

  
I'll take your bet.

  
And lay it off.

  
I got a bookie's bookie.

  
I'll give you 2 to 1 on the horse.

  
Racing form says 9 to 1.

  
So you go to the ticket window
with your 20 grand in hand

  
and you get 9 to if the spread sticks.

  
You come in here with your pockets
turned out, you get 2 to 1.

  
The juice is ten.

  
That means if you lose,
you're all in for 22 grand.

  
Twenty for the bet, two for the juice.

  
Can you pay these moneys?

  
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!

  
Henry!

  
Henry!

  
Henry!

  
- Hey, buddy.
- What?

  
- Got a light?
- No.

  
Henry!

  
In that case, how about the 20 Gs
you just blew on the 7 horse?

  
- What have you done with my son?
- He's on his way home.

  
Just like you.

  
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?

  
Aah!

  
Henry!

  
Aah!

  
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.

  
They're trying to make an impression.

  
That's a fuckin' story, man.

  
Charlie Chaplin entered a Charlie Chaplin
look-alike 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.

  
Well, 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.

  
See, 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 don't know. I open the door expecting
you to be up here, you're down there.

  
That combined with
a low center 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 kinda
expecting it, though.

  
You were kinda expecting it?

  
Well, they say
bad things happen in threes.

  
First I lost my job.

  
Then I come home to find that 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?

  
Yeah. I'm at the airport.
Are you sure you want me to come out?

  
Yeah. Just think,
two weeks in New York

  
and the only Kelly you'll remember is
the Kelly who gave you your first handjob

  
on the bus on the way up
to summer camp.

  
Kelly Perkins. She told me her hands
were dry and that she needed...

  
Yeah, 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. So I just got into town, Nick.
I'm on my way over to your place.

  
Say, man, you got the time?

  
Yeah, man. It's... 7:23.

  
- So you're probably still asleep.
- Yo, yo, yo.

  
- Anyway, I'll be over in a second, okay?
- You got a smoke?

  
I don't smoke, man.

  
Then why don't you just go ahead
and give me your wallet

  
and then I'll buy my own smokes?

  
Am I being mugged?

  
And so here I am.

  
You said three.

  
- What?
- You said bad things happen in threes.

  
You lost your job,
your apartment building 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
holdup man that one hears so much about.

  
Well, he did break my nose.

  
- But overlooked your suitcase.
- It's heavy.

  
Maybe he thought it wouldn't make
for a very 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.

  
Of course he saw it.
He asked you for the time.

  
You say this is your third mugging?

  
I'm a... I travel a lot.

  
Where's Nick?

  
I don't know.
He was supposed to meet me here.

  
He never showed up.

  
- How'd you get in?
- Door was open.

  
- Door was open?
- Yeah.

  
- Open or unlocked?
- I don't remember.

  
But you said open.

  
Could've been.
Hey, what was your name again?

  
Lindsey.
I live across the hall.

  
I came over to borrow
a cup of sugar.

  
Where's your cup?

  
I said I came over
to borrow a cup of sugar.

  
If I'd brought a cup, then I would've
said I came over to borrow sugar.

  
Touché.

  
Maybe that's Nick.
It's right there.

  
Hello.

  
Hello.

  
They hung up.

  
Ooh, I have an idea.

  
Have you used the phone
at all since you've been here?

  
Not except for that.

  
Sorry. Wrong number.

  
That was the Hotel Cheval.

  
What are you doing?

  
We know who he called.
Now we find out who called him.

  
Columbo says
that there are three things...

  
Columbo?

  
Yeah. Columbo was this TV detective

  
- played by Peter Falk...
- I know who Columbo is.

  
According to Columbo, there are
three things to look for at a crime scene.

  
What's there now
that wasn't there before,

  
what was there before that isn't there now,
and what's been moved.

  
- Is this a crime scene?
- I think Nick's in trouble.

  
Hello. Sorry. Wrong number.

  
That was the Hotel Cheval again.

  
So what? He called a hotel,
a hotel called him back.

  
It makes sense.

  
So maybe it's a clue.

  
A clue to what?

  
Maybe it's a clue
to what happened to Nick.

  
We don't know
anything happened to Nick.

  
We don't know
that anything didn't happen to Nick.

  
He said he was gonna meet you.
You're here, he's not, the door was open.

  
And bad things happen wherever you...

  
Shit! I gotta stop by work.

  
It's just for a couple hours.

  
Um, I'll come back, and then
we can start the investigation.

  
The investigation?

  
Uh-huh. It'll be fun.

  
Okay.

  
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... he'd have sugar."

  
You tell me your story,
I leave, sugarless.

  
I come back in,
you put your penis on exhibition,

  
and although my coffee's
probably gone bad by now,

  
I insist on following through.

  
It's like something
from a Norman Rockwell painting.

  
What, my penis?

  
No.
No! The sugar.

  
Neighbors borrowing sugar
from one another.

  
It's very 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 8:00.

  
Okay.

  
It's not nearly 8:00 yet.

  
The Boss wants to see you.

  
Who?

  
The Boss.

  
- Who's The Boss?
- The guy we work for.

  
Jesus.

  
Yo, man, sit your punk ass down!

  
I'm not the guy you're lookin' for.
I don't live here.

  
Yeah, well, you look like the guy
that lives here.

  
Then you don't know
what the guy that lives here looks like.

  
What he means to say
is you look like you live here.

  
Yeah, that's what I mean to say.

  
Well, yeah,
I look like I live here, but I don't.

  
I'm just visiting.
I just got in this morning.

  
The cat I'm lookin' 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?

  
See, the funny thing about that
is that I got mugged this morning...

  
Hey, look! Look, look.

  
Tell it to the one-legged man.

  
So he can bump it off down the road.

  
- Hey, listen, mu'fucka!
- Yo, I got this.

  
- I got this, Elvis.
- Slow... slow your roll.

  
- I got this.
- Slow your roll, man.

  
Just let me.
Just let me, all right?

  
Mu'fucka,

  
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's the woman who lives...
- Wait, hold on, hold on.

  
Man, I ain't asking nobody nothin'!

  
Nick, Slevin, Clark Kent,
whatever the fuck your name is.

  
The Virgin Mary herself could come
waltzin' up in here with her fine ass,

  
titties hanging out and everything,

  
and if she told me
your name was Jesus Christ,

  
I still gotta take you to see The Boss.

  
You know why?

  
No.

  
Orders.

  
Now, you do know what orders is, right?

  
- I think I got the concept.
- Orders is orders.

  
So I guess no one ever taught you
not to use the word you're defining

  
in the definition.

  
Say somethin' else!

  
I will break your motherfuckin' nose.
I ain't playin' with you.

  
My nose is already broken.

  
- Can I just say one more thing?
- What?!

  
Can you turn the heat up in here,
'cause it's really cold?

  
Yeah.

  
Y-y-you should've thought about that
before you started in with all the lip.

  
Yeah.

  
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 Fish...
- Mr. Fisher.

  
Are you familiar
with The Shmoo, Mr. Fisher?

  
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 case of The Shmoo
because of its relevance to you

  
and the reason
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,

  
but back when you thought I was him.

  
I never thought you were him,
I thought he was you.

  
And I was trying to tell him... you...
that they picked up the wrong guy.

  
The wrong guy for what?

  
Whatever it is
you wanted to see me about.

  
Do you know
what I want to see you about?

  
No.

  
Then how do you know
I have the wrong guy?

  
Because I'm not Nick Fish...

  
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 bet it was that mouth
that got you that nose.

  
Okay, 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.
You know this cat?

  
Slim?

  
No use.

  
Ever since
somebody shot him, old Slim went deaf.

  
What happened
to make Slim go deaf?

  
Why?

  
Well, because I owe you $96,000,

  
and I might have a slight problem
coming up with the money.

  
Oh, okay.

  
Well, why don't we just
make it an even 90?

  
I may have exaggerated the slightness.

  
Well, why don't I just cancel the whole debt
in exchange for a small favor?

  
Well, it depends on the favor.

  
That was my son.

  
You 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.

  
What, he has wings, he can fly,
he 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 know.

  
- 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?

  
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,
and 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 clichéd

  
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 showed, huh?
- No.

  
What's with you and that towel?

  
Oh, it's... Lindsey.

  
It's a very long story.

  
Well, get dressed.
You can tell me about it on the way.

  
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,

  
she says they keep a record
of every call made from the hotel

  
and that she can access the computer

  
and we can find out
what room the call came from.

  
She should be calling any minute.

  
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.

  
"New York bookmaker Slim Hopkins
was reported missing by his wife.

  
Police have no leads."
Blah blah blah, yadda yadda yadda.

  
"Spokesperson commented
off the record,

  
"'It's ironic that Hopkins
should go missing considering

  
he's allegedly pinned
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?

  
My phone.
Could be my friend from the hotel.

  
Be right back.

  
Hmm.

  
Yeah, 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 any...

  
...named Schlomo.

  
That hurt.

  
I think it's better
if you let me do the talking.

  
You think?

  
What is it?

  
He's sorry that he hit you.

  
- You always speak for him?
- Yes.

  
So he's a mute, then.

  
Not quite.

  
Well, what then?

  
It's personal.
You have to ask him.

  
- 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?

  
One time they were one
with one another,

  
and then they tried
to kill one another.

  
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 that 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,
what someone else has.

  
Kind of 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 the 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
and could not have been.

  
I live on both sides of the fence.
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?

  
- Listen, I've been hearing that a lot lately...
- My father used to say,

  
"The first time somebody calls you a horse,
you punch 'em on the nose,

  
"the second time somebody
calls you a horse, you call 'em a jerk,

  
"but the third time
somebody calls you a horse,

  
well, then 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 religious man...

  
There are three things
that you 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've been...

  
Kosher.

  
Acceptable.

  
I've wired half the money
into your bank in the Caimans.

  
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 is one thing I know,
it's when someone is lying.

  
Man in my position,
it's all he has to go on.

  
To know a lie when he hears it...
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 Smith, if you can believe that.

  
Although it is one of the most
common names in the world,

  
so there are bound to be
a couple of them.

  
But I get the feeling
this ain't one of them.

  
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 still, I have no idea who he is,
but I think that you might,

  
so I take a picture of him
using my cellphone,

  
which originally
I thought was a total waste

  
'cause 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
down 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.

  
... $33.000.

  
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,
  
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.

  
Yeah.

  
Things like that aren't supposed to be real.
It's like amnesia.

  
Not withstanding, here you are
and Nick's nowhere to be found, so...

  
I'd say you're fucked.

  
Fucked.

  
Shouldn't you be
a little more worried about all this?

  
I have anorexia.

  
Anorexia.

  
It's a condition characterized
by freedom from worry

  
or any other preoccupation, really.

  
Anyway, I have to have my answer
to The Boss in the morning.

  
What are you gonna say?

  
I'm gonna say what any 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,
you could have him in four moves.

  
If you do right now,
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
more like a week.

  
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.

  
So, what's the plan with Yitzchok?

  
I was gonna play it by ear.

  
Well, if it's all the same,
I'd write it down.

  
It's a tough tune.

  
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 the 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!

  
- Get down!
- What the hell?

  
Response time's gonna be
three to five seconds.

  
So 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... on 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.

  
That's all there is to it.

  
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 got three days.

  
Excuse me.

  
Who the fuck is this guy?

  
Don't know.

  
Whoever he is, he's either in
very deep shit, or I don't know what,

  
'cause 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 that Marty snapped.

  
Yes, boss.

  
I want a complete rundown
on this fucker.

  
Everything from A to Z.

  
I wanna know who he is,
who does he know.

  
People he knows,
who do they know?

  
I want to know what the fuck
he is doing in my fucking city.

  
- What do you got?
- Get this.

  
The Kat's in town.

  
Goodkat?

  
That's the song the junkies
are singing.

  
What's the happenstance?

  
Didn't know the happenstance.

  
Just said the word was the Kat's in town.

  
- 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 what, 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!
- What'd you figure out?

  
You said Slim Hopkins
worked for The Boss, right?

  
- Right.
- Well, listen.

  
The Rabbi also had a bookie.
His name was Benny Begin,

  
and right now Begin's
down at the morgue on ice.

  
- Somebody killed him and his goons.
- At the morgue?

  
Yeah. Didn't I tell you
I was a coroner?

  
No, you didn't tell me
you were a coroner.

  
Benny Begin, killed by a baseball.

  
My guess was a fastball.

  
Either way, it proves that the good Lord
has a sense of humor.

  
- Good morning, Detective.
- Morning.

  
- Know this guy?
- Mm-hmm.

  
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 send my paychecks
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.
- 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 some street thug to mug you,

  
but all he really wants
is your wallet with your license.

  
That's why he ignores
the watch and the suitcase.

  
Then Nick kills Slim Hopkins
and Benny Begin,

  
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.

  
You should run.

  
I can't.

  
- They'll kill you if you stay.
- They'll kill me if I leave.

  
Then go to the police!

  
These guys buy cops
like cops buy doughnuts.

  
This isn't the first time
this has happened, you know?

  
You mean this isn't the first time

  
a crime lord asked you to kill
the gay son of a rival gangster

  
to pay off a debt that belongs to a friend
whose place you're staying in

  
as a result of losing your job,
your apartment,

  
and finding your girlfriend in bed
with another guy?

  
No, this is the first time
that happened,

  
but Nick has been painting me
into corners since we were kids.

  
I guess I've always been a better friend
to him than he's been to me.

  
I'd love to hear the rest of this,
but I really gotta go back to work.

  
Oh, hey! Hey!

  
H-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'd be great. Yeah.

  
- Really?
- Yeah.

  
Yeah, sure.

  
Okay.

  
Um, no.

  
Bye!

  
What a weirdo.

  
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 how
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.

  
Yeah.

  
We'd be at a dinner party
and someone would ask,

  
"So, 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's that?
- Talking with him.

  
- Talking with him?
- Talking with him.

  
You're just gonna walk over and say,
"Hi, my name is Slevin,

  
"and some bad dudes think
I'm someone that I'm not,

  
"and this someone owes that someone
and now I'm gonna have to take you out

  
"or they're gonna take me out

  
and I was just wondering,
you wanna talk about it"?

  
- I can't do that.
- Ya 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?

  
I'm gonna wait till he goes to the bathroom,
and then I'm gonna follow him in.

  
What do you think?

  
Can 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.

  
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 next.

  
What went down
in the men's room?

  
- We talked.
- And?

  
I told him I thought
we should get together sometime.

  
- You didn't.
- I did.

  
And?

  
I got a date.

  
Oh, my God.
Do you think this is safe?

  
It can't be any worse than what's
waiting for me behind door number 2.

  
It's gonna be tough, though.
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, buddy, I'm sorry.
No offense or anything, but I'm not...

  
I'm not gay.

  
I'm a cop.

  
Yeah, 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.
I know you're not Nick Fisher.

  
The guy whose apartment
you're staying in.

  
I know this because Nick Fisher
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 can be Kananga.

  
Kananga?

  
- No, The Boss is no Kananga.
- Then who's The Boss?

  
Ernst Stavros Blofeld.

  
Which one?
Donald Pleasence?

  
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.

  
We never see Blofeld's face
in From Russia with Love.

  
That's when the villain is most effective...

  
when you don't know what he looks like.

  
So...

  
See you later.

  
That was incredible.

  
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're referring to

  
when you say 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 that you...

  
I naturally assumed that you knew
who I was talking about.

  
Because if you aren't talking about the guy
that I think you're talking about...

  
well, then 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?

  
- Are you kidding me?
- I was kidding.

  
Yeah, I was kidding, too.

  
The only James Bond...

  
- is Timothy Dalton.
- Pierce Brosnan.

  
- Scotland forever.
- I feel so much better.

  
I do.

  
Where are you going?

  
I'm just gonna get us some coffee.

  
Okay.

  
Hurry back to me.

  
Police.

  
Come on, man.

  
I already talked to your buddy.

  
Morning.

  
I'm Detective Dumbrowski.

  
Good morning, Detective Dumbrowski.
Am I being kidnapped?

  
No. We just wanna have
a quick friendly word with you.

  
Is this the standard operating procedure
you'd find in the policemen's manual

  
if you looked up "quick friendly word."

  
There is no SOP for the kind of box
you've got yourself into, kid.

  
Oh.

  
- So what'd 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, kid.
- Really? 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.

  
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.

  
No, I 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 another...

  
You look good.

  
You want some wine?

  
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

  
is 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?

  
Saul, the phone's been...

  
Oh!

  
I thought you were Saul.

  
A lot of people have been thinking
I'm somebody else these days.

  
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...

  
...they can bring about
quite a bit of trouble.

  
Now, the woman
in the picture with Grant,

  
her name was, um...

  
Eva Marie Saint.

  
Oh, you know this movie.

  
I know this movie.

  
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 will 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 ya, 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.

  
Twenty years...

  
...locked away in my own paranoia,
a prisoner in my own home.

  
Only to be delivered to fate by a boy.

  
Well, Anthony,
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?

  
Then 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 is 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,

  
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 your...

  
...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.

  
You are lying.

  
Look at my face, Schlomo.

  
Look at my smile.

  
Your son is dead.

  
Your son is dead.

  
I'm gonna kill you.

  
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.

  
So...

  
Who work with big time crooks.

  
I was looking for a gambler.

  
One who was in both books...

  
... with a lot of red in the minus column.

  
Got him.

  
That's when I found Nick Fisher.

  
A lowlife that no one was gonna miss.

  
- 1729.
- Nick Fisher.

  
Okay.

  
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.

  
You ready?

  
Yeah.

  
There's just that one last thing.

  
Uhh!

  
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?

  
Remember The Rabbi?

  
I remember The Rabbi well.

  
The 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.

  
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 work New York.

  
Like I said, very big job.

  
And you thought as long as you're in town,
you drop by, see your old pal Schlomo.

  
Say, "Hello! How 'bout 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.

  
'Cause 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.

  
That...

  
That will make us friends.

  
Right, Rabbi?

  
Hmm?

  
And since friends do favors for friends,

  
you'll 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.

  
Hmm?

  
Whatever they're paying you.

  
There is no "they."

  
I did this to you.

  
- Me.
- You?

  
Me.

  
Who are you?

  
Who is he?

  
Considering he no longer has fingerprints,
I'd say that it's unlikely we'll ever know.

  
What about dental records?

  
Sure. As soon as you 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 already got.

  
All right, I'll be right over.

  
Did you ever get a hold of The Rabbi

  
so he could 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.

  
Retired a few years ago,
his wife just died,

  
so he likes to come in
a couple times a week, talk shop,

  
tell bedtime stories to the rooks,

  
starts every sentence
with "the way things used to be."

  
Guy living in the past.

  
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
What about him?

  
Anyway, we're making small talk,
guy says he can't complain,

  
then all he does is fucking 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,
he's looking at the name,

  
'cause I got it written down
at the bottom.

  
He knows that name Slevin.

  
I have that same phone.

  
About an hour later,
the phone rings.

  
It's Harry. He's talking like
a goddamned machine gun,

  
going on and on
about a horserace back in '79.

  
Aqueduct.

  
7 horse, tenth race.
Ring a bell?

  
It was
a drugstore handicap, big windup,

  
around the time The Boss
and 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.

  
Come on, come on.

  
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,

  
well, they are the opposite of happy.

  
Word comes down
an example is to be made.

  
These guys kill everyone.

  
And I mean everyone.

  
Max, his wife, his kid, Roth.

  
Even the goddamn horse died.

  
These guys went to town
with a tomahawk.

  
It was a fuckin' massacre.

  
They had to bring in a specialist
to do the kid

  
'cause nobody would take the job.

  
What've 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,

  
"Harry, what does any of this
have 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.

  
You remember this part?

  
Please!

  
I have a family!

  
Not anymore you don't.

  
Henry!

  
You fucking bastards!

  
You fucking bastard!

  
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 kind of interesting,
him picking the name of a dead racehorse

  
and keeping company
with The Boss and The Rabbi,

  
seeing as how they had some involvement
with that very same horse.

  
I thought to myself, you know,
maybe it means something.

  
Then again, maybe it's just a coincidence.
Name gotta come from someplace, right?

  
I guess none of this really matters
now that the kid's gone cold.

  
Ah, one more thing.

  
We 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.

  
Says it means...

  
Bad dog.

  
Twenty years ago,
he used to be my bookie.

  
I used to send my paychecks
over to him.

  
Brikowski, you there?

  
Your girl made me.

  
She took my picture.

  
She's gotta go in the ground.

  
Okay.

  
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 gonna shoot you here.

  
I didn't think you'd understand.

  
I'd have understood.

  
How'd 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 wanna go home.

  
Neither of us is going home
for a long time, kid.

  
My name is Goodkat.

  
You can call me Mr. Goodkat.

  
And it's 20 minutes past 4:here at WLNS,

  
and here's my new favorite song by JR...
"The Kansas City Shuffle."