The Rock Script - Dialogue Transcript

Voila! Finally, the The Rock script is here for all you quotes spouting fans of the Michael Bay movie with Nic Cage and Sean Connery.  This script is a transcript that was painstakingly transcribed using the screenplay and/or viewings of The Rock. I know, I know, I still need to get the cast names in there and I'll be eternally tweaking it, so if you have any corrections, feel free to drop me a line. You won't hurt my feelings. Honest.

Swing on back to Drew's Script-O-Rama afterwards for more free movie scripts!

The Rock Script


 

                   

We can't hold out much longer, sir!



 

                   

General Hummel, you've gotta

get us outta here now!



 

                   

I won't let you down.

I won't let you down, son.



 

                   

Goddamn it, sir! How long do we have

to wait? I've lost    men already!



 

                   

Sir, they're lightin' us up

like a firestorm!



 

                   

This is General Hummel.

You gotta get my men outta there!



 

                   

We don't have clearance

to go behind enemy lines, sir.



 

                   

They're not coming for us,

are they, sir?



 

                   

Congressman Weaver

and esteemed members...



  

                   

of the Special Armed Services

Committee.



  

                   

I come before you to protest

a grave injustice.



  

                   

Aim!



  

                   

It has to stop.



  

                   

I miss you so much.



  

                   

There's something I've gotta do, Barb.



  

                   

Something I couldn't do

while you were here.



  

                   

I tried.

You know I tried everything.



  

                   

And I still don't have

their attention.



  

                   

Let's hope this elevates

their thinking.



  

                   

But whatever happens...



  

                   

please don't think less of me.



  

                   

Marine, inform the garrison C.O...



  

                   

that General Hummel's coming on

board with a security inspection team.



  

                   

Yes, sir.

Sir, it's an honor having you, sir.



  

                   

Ya know, at least

we can get some--



  

                   

- A long time before guard meeting, huh?

- Yeah, I'll tell ya.



  

                   

I got the access card. We've got

   minutes 'til those darts wear off.



  

                   

Move it!



  

                   

The access card, sir.



  

                   

Let's do it.



  

                   

     magazine check.



  

                   

- Man, it's wet out there!

- Check me through, will ya?



  

                   

Clear!



  

                   

- I want    Major!

- Move it!



  

                   

Evac! Seal the door!



  

                   

- No!

- Come on, man!

- No!

- Seal it!



  

                   

- No!

- Seal it!

- Help!



  

                   

Let me outta here! Oh, God!

Let me outta here! Oh, God!



  

                   

Let me out! Let me out!



  

                   

Clear out.

Get outta here!



  

                   

Sorry.



  

                   

Let's move out.



  

                   

Two more cc's

of acetylene chloride.



  

                   

- That'll be five dollars, lsherwood.

- You suck.



  

                   

You guys have too much time

on your hands.



  

                   

Yes! She's here! Bring it

to me now. Thank you, Phil!



  

                   

What's that?

Why'd you get it sent here?



  

                   

Carla wouldn't approve. She thinks

it's dumb to spend $    on an L.P.



  

                   

Carla's right. Why don't you

just spend $   on a CD, man?



  

                   

First of all,

it's because I'm a Beatlemaniac.



  

                   

And second,

these sound better.



  

                   

Could be serious.

Could be sarin gas.



  

                   

A dog out of JFK caught a whiff

of something in this package...



  

                   

postmarked to

a Bosnian refugee camp.



  

                   

It could be detergent,

or it could be sarin gas.



  

                   

Bosnian refugee camp?



  

                   

Half a million Serbians

reside in the U.S., Marvin.

Serbians don't like Bosnians.



  

                   

You guys wanna get suited up?



  

                   

- You bring the cockroaches?

- Got 'em.



  

                   

We have air lock, Stanley.

You're all set to go.



  

                   

October        hours.



  

                   

Agent Stanley Goodspeed,

Agent/Trainee Marvin lsherwood...



  

                   

initiating exam

of wooden crate.



  

                   

Suspicion of sarin gas inside.



  

                   

- Marvin, sarin is a--

- G.B. aerosol.



  

                   

That is correct.



  

                   

Now, let's see.

We have some dirty magazines.



  

                   

Stone Age Cave Girls

in the Raw.



  

                   

Kinky. And, uh--

Not a good sign.



  

                   

Hello, little baby doll.



  

                   

Lookit, Stan.



  

                   

- Hi there, Stanley.

- Marvin!

- Marvin, don't!



  

                   

- Hi, Stan.

- Shit! Move back! Move back!



  

                   

- I want the exhaust.

- Hang on, guys.



  

                   

We'll have that room clear

in    seconds! You're gonna be okay.



  

                   

Jesus Christ!



  

                   

Okay, I've got some bad news

and some really bad news.



  

                   

The bad news is that the gas is

corrosive and it's eating our suits.



  

                   

- It's all over my hand, man!

- The really bad news...



  

                   

is there's enough C-  explosive and

poison gas to blow the whole chamber...



  

                   

-and kill everybody

in the building.

-Detonation too heavy.

-Everybody, out of the room now!



  

                   

Seal us inside.



  

                   

- Where are the sprinklers, Lonner?

- The acid's eating my su--



  

                   

It's eating my fucking suit!

All right? Shit!



  

                   

- Just wash us off!

- Where are my sprinklers?



  

                   

We're working on it.

It's coming. It's just a flow problem.



  

                   

Well, that's a pretty big

friggin' problem, Lonner. Fix it now!



  

                   

- We're working on it! How much time

do you have on that detonator?

- A minute ten.



  

                   

- Look at this!

- We're gonna have the room clear.



  

                   

- Tell 'em to take the atropine, now!

- The atropine, lsherwood.



  

                   

- What?

- Where's my water, Lonner? One minute!



  

                   

- Marvin, the atropine, now!

- Inject it in your heart

before your suit melts.



  

                   

Shit!



  

                   

Make him take his dose.



  

                   

- Where's that water?

- Get that away from me!



  

                   

Come on, Phil, fix it

for Christ's sake!



  

                   

- Take the atropine now, Stan,

for Christ's sake!

- We're fucked.



  

                   

The poison's mixing.



  

                   

What the fuck are you

waiting for, Stanley?

You take the fucking needle now!



   

                   

- Fuck! Shit! Oh, fuck, shit!

- Forty seconds!



   

                   

If that suit melts--

If you die, we all die!



   

                   

Inject your heart

and then diffuse the bomb!



   

                   

- Come on, just do it, Stan!

- Shit! What if I miss my heart?

I can't see shit!



   

                   

-Do it now!

-Look how big this is. You want

me to stick this into my heart?



   

                   

- Are you fucking nuts?

- The sprinkler's coming! It's coming!



   

                   

Okay, here we go, man!



   

                   

Sprinkler activated.



   

                   

How much time left?



   

                   

Twenty seconds!



   

                   

We're not gonna make it.



   

                   

Fifteen.



   

                   

Oh, come on.



   

                   

Clear!



   

                   

Get me the fuck out of this gas chamber!



   

                   

I almost stabbed myself

in the heart with this thing.



   

                   

Please lock me away



   

                   

- Stan?

- Hey, darlin'.



   

                   

Hi, baby.



   

                   

Here inside where I hide

with my loneliness



   

                   

I had such

an interesting day today.



   

                   

Yeah, I had kind of

an interesting day myself.



   

                   

Oh, okay, you go first.



   

                   

Oh, just some terrorists decided to send

a little care package, box of goodies...



   

                   

which had to be neutralized

before blowing up the office.



   

                   

So I took the rest of the day off.



   

                   

Glass of wine, little guitar.

Just relaxing.



   

                   

- Wow!

- I mean it, honey. The world is being

Fed-Ex'd to hell on a handcart.



   

                   

I really believe that anyone

who's even thinking about

having a child in this world...



   

                   

is coldly considering

an act of cruelty.



   

                   

I know, I'm rambling,

I'm complaining. I'm sorry.



   

                   

- What's your news, baby?

- I'm pregnant.



   

                   

I'm sorry?



   

                   

I'm pregnant.



   

                   

- Really?

- Yeah.



   

                   

-Wow!

-Is that all you're gonna say, is "wow"?



   

                   

- You're pregnant?

- Three weeks.



   

                   

How do you know? I mean,

h-how do you know?



   

                   

Blue! Just turned blue

so I went to the doctor.



   

                   

- Well, you didn't mean what

you just said, did you?

- When?



   

                   

Uh, just right now when you were talking

about bringing a child into the world...



   

                   

and having it be

an act of cruelty.



   

                   

-I meant it at the time.

-Stanley, at the time? You said

it seven and a half seconds ago.



   

                   

Well, gosh!



   

                   

Kind of a lot's happened since then.

Look, we're not even married.



   

                   

- I know. It's funny

you should mention that.

- It's funny?



   

                   

- Do you love me?

- Of course I love you.



   

                   

Good.



   

                   

- Will you marry me?

- Whoa! Whoa! Wai-- Hey,

Marriage Police, pull over!



   

                   

Come on, Stanley.

I'm proposing to you right now.



   

                   

The Rock is the most famous and was

the most feared prison ever built.



   

                   

Is it really true that

there's never been an escape?



   

                   

Ah, that's true. From      until

'   when the prison closed...



   

                   

there were    attempts.



   

                   

No one is believed to have made

it to shore, alive at least.



   

                   

No, uh, h-h-hey, hey, fellas. I'm sorry,

but tourists are not allowed back here.



   

                   

- I don't really give a shit!

Do you give a shit?

- No.



   

                   

- Come here, fruity.

- Move!



   

                   

- Hey, girls? Hi.

You all havin' a good time?

- Yeah.



   

                   

Will you do something for me?

It's really, it's really important.



   

                   

I need you to tell your teacher

that you need to get back on

the boat and go home right now.



   

                   

Ladies and gentlemen,

welcome to Broadway!



   

                   

This cell block housed...



   

                   

the most awesome scum in America.



   

                   

Ladies and gentlemen,

l, Ranger Bob...



   

                   

cordially invite you to become inmates

of Alcatraz, temporarily, of course.



   

                   

On the line!



   

                   

Pretty tight quarters,

aren't they, huh?



   

                   

Like being a caged animal.



   

                   

Spend a couple of years in there--



   

                   

- What's the matter, fellas?

Something wrong with the tour?

- The tour's over, Bob.



   

                   

What kind of fucked-up tour

is this?



   

                   

General Hummel, Captains Frye

and Darrow reporting, sir.



   

                   

Welcome to The Rock, gentlemen.

Land the choppers on the

back side and deploy as planned.



   

                   

- Aye, aye, sir.

- Aye, aye, sir. Move out!



   

                   

I'm not allowed

to carry a gun.



   

                   

Oh, you're not allowed to carry

a gun? I got a goddamned gun.



   

                   

If I'd have known this was

gonna happen, I'd have brought

my motherfuckin' gun! Help!



   

                   

All right, gentlemen, this'll be

our new home. Tom, I want

my command center right here.



   

                   

- I want Coms up.

- Roger that, sir.



   

                   

Put the satellite over there.

I wanna be up at     .



   

                   

Let's move it.



   

                   

- Systems up.

- Possible penetration point

in the shower room.



   

                   

- We're setting anti-intrusion.

- I brought a personal touch, sir.



   

                   

It's an anti-motion trembler device.

It's custom-made.



   

                   

Nobody knows about it

and nobody expects it.



   

                   

- What's it do?

- We head-fake 'em with the laser beam.



   

                   

And then if they disturb

Mr. Backup here, we own 'em.



   

                   

Ladies and gentlemen, you're being

detained against your will.



   

                   

For that, I apologize.



   

                   

It is not our intention

in any way to harm you.



   

                   

You will not be detained one

minute longer than is necessary

for us to complete our mission.



   

                   

Attention on deck!



   

                   

Stand easy, men.



   

                   

Make no mistake about it, gentlemen,

we are now in harm's way.



   

                   

For Major Baxter and l,

this is the last campaign

in a career datin' back to Tet '  .



   

                   

Likewise for Captain Hendrix,

Gunnery Sergeant Crisp,



   

                   

who cut their teeth

under my command in Desert Storm.



   

                   

Captain Frye, Captain Darrow,

this is my first operational

situation with you and your men.



   

                   

And I have to say, thus far

your conduct reflects your reputations.



   

                   

- Thank you, General.

- Thank you, sir.



   

                   

We have achieved our position

through poise, precision and audacity.



   

                   

To this we must now add resolve.



   

                   

We'll be branded as traitors,

the gravest capital crime.



   

                   

Punishable by death.



   

                   

A couple hundred years ago...



   

                   

a few guys named Washington,

Jefferson and Adams...



   

                   

were branded as traitors

by the British.



   

                   

And now they're called patriots.



   

                   

In time, so shall we.



   

                   

God willing,

in less than    hours...



   

                   

you will evacuate this island

in gunships under cover of

hostages and V.X. gas warheads.



   

                   

Your destination:

a non-extradition treaty country.



   

                   

You will each be paid a fee

of $  million for services rendered.



   

                   

But you can never again

set foot on your native soil.



   

                   

- Can you live with that?

- Yes, sir!



   

                   

The men of

Marine Force Recon...



   

                   

are selected to carry out

illegal operations throughout the world.



   

                   

When they don't come home...



   

                   

their families are told fairy tales

about what happened to them...



   

                   

and denied compensation.



   

                   

Well, I have choked

on these lies my entire career!



   

                   

Well, here and now the lies stop!



   

                   

God be with all of you.

Man your positions, men.



   

                   

This is FBI Director Womack.



   

                   

Director, be advised.



   

                   

Eighty-one, I say again,



   

                   

   civilians are under

my control as of this moment.



   

                   

   civilians are under

my control as of this moment.



   

                   

You are to take measures to assure this

remains a need-to-know classified fact.



   

                   

Who is this?



   

                   

Mr. Director, you have

a very serious problem.



   

                   

A battery of V.X. gas rockets

is presently deployed...



   

                   

to deliver a highly

lethal strike on the population

of the San Francisco Bay area.



   

                   

-I will call again at      hours

to state my demands.

-I want to know who I'm talking to.



   

                   

This is Brigadier General

Francis X. Hummel, United States

Marine Corps, from Alcatraz.



   

                   

Out!



   

                   

- I'll cancel your reservations.

- Get the Pentagon.



   

                   

And call the San Francisco office.

It seems Alcatraz was just reopened.



   

                   

Last night General Hummel,

using brutal but nonlethal force...



   

                   

under the guise of a security

exercise, walked off with   

V.X. poison gas rockets.



   

                   

He lost one of his own men

in the process.



   

                   

That's General Hummel in Vietnam.

I think he was a major at the time.



   

                   

Three tours in Vietnam,

Panama, Grenada, Desert Storm.



   

                   

Three Purple Hearts,

two Silver Stars...



   

                   

and the Congressional Medal of--



   

                   

Jesus! This man is a hero!



   

                   

Well, I think "legend" might be

a better description, Mr. Sinclair.



   

                   

Well, now we can add kidnapping

and extortion to his list of accolades.



   

                   

Mr. Sinclair, General Hummel

is a man of honor.



   

                   

General, it's him.



   

                   

Frank, it's AI Kramer.



   

                   

Hi, Al, how you doin'?



   

                   

I don't know, Frank.

Ah, why don't you tell me.



   

                   

Got a lot of very, very

worried people here, Frank.



   

                   

I'll come straight to the point.



   

                   

Eight-three Force Reconnaissance Marines

have died under my various commands.



   

                   

Forty-seven in northern Laos

and southern China.



   

                   

Southern China? We never admitted

we sent troops into China.



   

                   

Who is this?

ldentify yourself.



   

                   

White House Chief of Staff

Hayden Sinclair, General.



   

                   

- How old are you,

Chief of Staff Sinclair?

- I'm   .



   

                   

Well, Mr. Sinclair, you've probably got

no fucking idea what I'm talking about.



   

                   

By your ninth birthday, I was

runnin' black ops into China...



   

                   

and my men were responsible

f-for over     enemy kills.



   

                   

Al, put some rigging tape over Mr.

Sinclair's mouth. He's wasting my time.



   

                   

Ah, you want to continue, Frank?



   

                   

Remember Operation Desert Storm?



   

                   

Those surgical hits made by

our smart bombs, covered so well on CNN?



   

                   

It was my men on the ground

that made those hits possible

by lasing the targets.



   

                   

Twenty of them were left to rot outside

Baghdad after the conflict ended.



   

                   

No benefits were paid

to their families.



   

                   

No medals conferred.



   

                   

These men died for their country,

and they weren't even given

a goddamn military burial.



   

                   

The situation is unacceptable.

You will transfer $    million...



   

                   

from the Grand Cayman Red Sea

Trading Company account

to an account I designate.



   

                   

From these funds, reparations

of $  million will be paid...



   

                   

to each of

the    marines' families.



   

                   

The rest of the funds I will

disperse at my discretion.



   

                   

Do I make myself clear?



   

                   

Except for the Red Sea Trading Company.

What is that?



   

                   

- Identify yourself.

- This is FBI Director Womack, General.



   

                   

It's a slush fund where the Pentagon

keeps proceeds from illegal arms sales.



   

                   

Jesus, Frank!

This is classified information.



   

                   

You alert the media,

I launch the gas.



   

                   

You refuse payment,

I launch the gas.



   

                   

You've got    hours,

'til noon day after tomorrow

to arrange transfer of the money.



   

                   

I am aware of your

countermeasure. You know and I

know it doesn't stand a chance.



   

                   

Hummel from Alcatraz. Out.



   

                   

All right. We have to identify

the hostages and contact

each of their families.



   

                   

Uh, tell 'em somethin'. Make up a story,

and we've got to keep this undercover.



   

                   

If this comes out, the city

of San Francisco will be

in chaos. I am talking anarchy.



   

                   

Wait a minute, wait a minute.

What is the potential casualty rate...



   

                   

for a single rocket armed with

V.X. poison gas, General Peterson?



   

                   

- Sixty or seventy.

- Well, that's, that's not so bad.



   

                   

- Thousand. Seventy thousand dead!

- Oh.



   

                   

One teaspoon of this hits the floor,

it's lethal up to a hundred feet.



   

                   

One teaspoon of this shit

detonated in the atmosphere...



   

                   

will kill every living organism

in an eight-block radius.



   

                   

Get the point?



   

                   

Uh, what did Hummel mean

by your countermeasure, General?



   

                   

Standard poison is countered

by napalm. It burns it up,

consumes it upon detonation.



   

                   

Now, the problem

with V.X. poison gas is...



   

                   

that it's designed specifically

to withstand napalm.



   

                   

That's where, uh, thermite plasma

comes in. General Peterson?



   

                   

Thermite plasma incendiary systems

can burn hot enough to consume V.X....



   

                   

but they're still in the test phase;

it's not operational.



   

                   

Hummel knows this. We are dealing with

one smart son of a bitch.



   

                   

What's it gonna take to equip a flight

of F-  s with thermite plasma...



   

                   

within the next    hours?



   

                   

- An act of God.

- Excuse me?



   

                   

All right, we can try.



   

                   

But I strongly urge you to consider the

use of this as a secondary initiative.



   

                   

Then we have to go to our

primary initiative. Uh, Admiral?



   

                   

Sir, I'd like to bring in our SEAL

ground commander, Commander Anderson.



   

                   

Mr. Womack, who is

your best chemical/biological man?



   

                   

- Oh, that's interesting.

- Oh, yeah.

- That's very compelling.



   

                   

- You like my pigtails?

- Oh, yeah, the pigtails

are very naughty.



   

                   

Naughty. Naughty.



   

                   

Just the Amaretto cream

with peach sorbet persuasion.



   

                   

- This isn't happening.

- No, Stan, don't answer it.



   

                   

- This isn't happening!

- No, just don't answer it. It's okay.



   

                   

- I have to. It's the office,

baby. They know I'm home.

- No.



   

                   

How could they possibly know

that you're home?



   

                   

It's the FBl.



   

                   

Stanley!



   

                   

Goodspeed.

Uh, yeah. O-Okay, yeah.



   

                   

I'll be, I'll be down, yeah,

downstairs in ten minutes.



   

                   

No, you won't.



   

                   

- I have to go to San Francisco.

- No, you don't.



   

                   

Stanley, no, you do not have

to go to San Francisco.



   

                   

Are you kidding me right now?

You need to stay here

and talk to me about things.



   

                   

-I've got to go, baby.

-Oh! I am Catholic! Do you realize that?



   

                   

I am pregnant and I am unmarried. And

this causes a serious problem for me.



   

                   

I cannot believe you.



   

                   

No, no.



   

                   

I love you.

I will marry you.



   

                   

I just didn't plan on this, that's all.



   

                   

- Come to San Francisco.

- Really?



   

                   

Yeah, I'm sure it's just

a training exercise.



   

                   

Check into the hotel.

Order up some champagne.



   

                   

- And we'll finish what we started?

- Exactly.



   

                   

- Baby, you're gonna marry me?

- You know it.



   

                   

You're gonna marry me!



   

                   

- Oh, honey, come on.

Just a really quick one.

- Oh, oh, I gotta go now.



   

                   

A nighttime airdrop incursion

is out due to the full moon.



   

                   

Likewise a frontal

seaside attack.



   

                   

If we're compromised and shots

are fired, Hummel might launch.



   

                   

Our only alternative

is an attack from within the prison.



   

                   

We penetrate the island

through the tunnels under the

prison buildings undetected...



   

                   

and emerge in its center; that way

we can jump the marines from behind.



   

                   

And if we're lucky, take their

rocket positions without a shot fired.



   

                   

I don't understand. You-you've studied

the architectural plans?



   

                   

They're useless. Alcatraz has been

ripped up and rebuilt for years.



   

                   

- Under there is a maze of shit.

- Well, there's no question, gentlemen.



   

                   

We need firsthand intelligence

of the tunnel systems.



   

                   

- So what about the former warden?

- Died in     .



   

                   

All the guards we contacted

were useless.



   

                   

Um, there is someone

who I think can help us.



   

                   

- This is for the sake

of national security.

- No!



   

                   

It's the sake of national

security that got us here

in the first place    years ago.



   

                   

I knew! I knew someday

this would come back to bite us.



   

                   

Forget it!

He does not exist.



   

                   

He does exist! We just chose

to forget him for    years.



   

                   

- We locked him up

and threw away the key.

- Oh, and a lot of goddamn good

it did us.



   

                   

He broke out of two maximum-security

prisons. And if he hits the streets--



   

                   

He's not gonna hit the streets, Jim.



   

                   

Thirty years ago he was

a highly-trained SAS operative.



   

                   

He is my age now,

for Christ's sake!



   

                   

I have to get up three times

a night to take a piss.



   

                   

We can't risk

letting him out.



   

                   

He's a professional

escape artist.



   

                   

- Gosh. Neat, uh--

- Yeah.

- Neat, neat plane.



   

                   

Dr. Goodspeed.

James Womack.



   

                   

- A pleasure to meet you, sir.

- Welcome.

- Thank you.



   

                   

You come very highly recommended.



   

                   

B.A. Columbia;

M.A., PhD, Johns Hopkins.



   

                   

Biochemistry, toxicology.



   

                   

Well, I'm one of those fortunate

people who like my job, sir.



   

                   

Got my first chemistry set when I

was seven. Blew my eyebrows off.



   

                   

We never saw the cat again.

Been into it ever since.



   

                   

What do you know about V.X. gas?



   

                   

Liquid. Failed pesticide

discovered by a mistake in     .



   

                   

Uh, actually, it's kind of like

champagne that way.



   

                   

The Franciscan monks thought

they were making white wine.



   

                   

Somehow the bottle carbonated.

Voila! Champagne.



   

                   

- And then the whole thing just--

- The gas, Dr. Goodspeed.



   

                   

It's very, very horrible, sir.



   

                   

It's one of those things

we wish we could disinvent.



   

                   

This isn't a "train" exercise, is it?



   

                   

No, Dr. Goodspeed,

it's not a training exercise.



   

                   

- Hello, sir.

- Good morning, Director.



   

                   

This is Ernest Paxton, agent in charge

of the West Coast operation.



   

                   

- Dr. Goodspeed.

- Pleasure to meet you.

- How do you do, sir?



   

                   

It's been a fairly interesting day

so far. The prisoner's here. Shall we?



   

                   

Now, my boys, they haven't been

able to find a file on this guy.

Who is he anyway, sir?



   

                   

His name is John Mason,

a British national...



   

                   

incarcerated on Alcatraz

in      escaped in '  .



   

                   

I was under the impression that no one

ever escaped Alcatraz, sir.



   

                   

Paxton, don't argue!



   

                   

This man has no identity, not in

the United States or Great Britain.



   

                   

He does not exist. Understand?



   

                   

I want one thing:

how he escaped The Rock.



   

                   

Specifically the route he took

through the island's bowels.



   

                   

- The papers are in order, sir.

- We're prepared to offer him

a full pardon.



   

                   

And Paxton, no strong-arming Mason.

I know him too well.



   

                   

Well, if you know him,

then why don't you question him?



   

                   

No, he'll remember me. I don't want

his anger clouding the issue.



   

                   

All right, I'll take care of him.



   

                   

Mr. Mason, I'm Special Agent

in Charge, Ernest Paxton.



   

                   

In charge of what? Fucking me over

for another three decades?



   

                   

I don't know anything about your

previous matters. I'm here because...



   

                   

a special situation exists that we feel

you might be able to help us with.



   

                   

Well, what might that be?



   

                   

I've been in jail longer than

Nelson Mandela, so maybe you

want me to run for president.



   

                   

- Not exactly.

- Mmm, a pity.



   

                   

I feel rather like Alcamenes.



   

                   

- Who?

- Alcamenes. He was imprisoned

by his king in ancient Greece.



   

                   

-Like Sir Walter Raleigh. The same fate.

-James the First.



   

                   

Even someone as bright as you

must be aware that, uh,



   

                   

there's a certain pattern

emerging here.



   

                   

Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn?



   

                   

Yeah, I heard of him. Didn't he play

hockey for the fuckin' Red Wings?



   

                   

- That's the chap.

- Get this straight, pops.



   

                   

I don't like you any more

than you like me.



   

                   

But I'm here to make you

a legitimate offer.



   

                   

You wanna hear what

I have to say or not?



   

                   

By all means, dear Paxton.

By all means.



   

                   

We got a problem in a place

that I think you know.



   

                   

There's a hostage situation

on Alcatraz.



   

                   

- Hostage?

- Eighty-one tourists.



   

                   

The Rock has become

a tourist attraction?



   

                   

Why don't we cut the shit, huh?

You know The Rock.



   

                   

- You broke out.

- Yes, successfully.



   

                   

Yeah. So why don't you do yourself

a favor while you're helpin' us?



   

                   

I mean, it'd be nice to get out of jail

while you're still vertical.



   

                   

Hmm? While you got a little lead

left in your pencil.



   

                   

While I'm considering your offer...



   

                   

I want a suite

in the Fairmont Hotel.



   

                   

You know I'm here

to cut you a deal.



   

                   

I am not here to bend over

and take it up the ass from you.



   

                   

Here. Here's a quarter.



   

                   

Do yourself a favor. Call your lawyer.

You're goin' back to jail.



   

                   

- Y-You're sending him back to jail?

- I'm not sending him anywhere.



   

                   

I'm just givin' him

somethin' to think about.



   

                   

With all due respect, sir,

I don't think we have time...



   

                   

for him to just sit around

and think about it.



   

                   

- Oh, really?

- No, Goodspeed's right.



   

                   

- You go talk to him.

- Me?

- Yes.



   

                   

- Sir, I'm not qualified for that.

- You're an FBI agent!



   

                   

- W-What is your specialty again?

- Chemical weapons.



   

                   

Don't mention that!



   

                   

- You want me to lie?

- Yeah, lie.



   

                   

We got less than    hours.

Give it a shot.



   

                   

Okay.



   

                   

Hi.



   

                   

I'm an agent with the, uh,

uh, F-Federal--



   

                   

FBl. Uh--



   

                   

- Eh, well, my-- I'm Stanley Goodspeed.

- But of course you are.



   

                   

Well, at least

he got his name right.



   

                   

- Of course I am. Huh.

- And you have an emergency.



   

                   

That's right.



   

                   

And you need my help.



   

                   

Exactly right.



   

                   

- Coffee.

- No, no, I'm fine. Thank you.



   

                   

Offer me coffee.



   

                   

Oh, yes! Well, that was,

in fact, gonna be my next--



   

                   

Can we get a cup of coffee

in here, please?



   

                   

And offer to take these off.



   

                   

Mr. Mason, really.



   

                   

- All kidding aside.

- As a gesture of your good faith.



   

                   

- Prisoner requests to have

his handcuffs taken off.

- No, no, no, no.



   

                   

Why don't you go ahead and have

his handcuffs taken off, please?



   

                   

Well, I guess

that's one way to go.



   

                   

This is a pardon and release contract

from the Attorney General's office.



   

                   

Now, it makes you a free man

provided you cooperate.



   

                   

So if you'll just, uh, sign...



   

                   

uh, at, uh, where it says--



   

                   

- "Signature"?

- That's-- Yes. "Signature."



   

                   

Well, timeo danaos et dona ferentis.



   

                   

"l fear the Greeks

even when they bring gifts."



   

                   

Oh, an educated man!



   

                   

That rules out the possibility

of you being a field agent.



   

                   

In point of fact,

I am a field agent, Mr. Mason.



   

                   

- Really?

- Yes.



   

                   

- In which field?

- Antiterrorism.



   

                   

Then you're trained in weaponry,

explosives and mortal combat.



   

                   

Well-trained.



   

                   

Then it's the Fairmont Hotel.



   

                   

Okay.



   

                   

I want a suite,

a shower, a shave...



   

                   

and the feel of a suit.



   

                   

May I also suggest, uh, a haircut?



   

                   

- Am I out of style?

- Unless you're a   -year-old

guitarist from Seattle.



   

                   

- It's a grunge thing.

- Grunge?



   

                   

Yeah, well, uh, uh--

Okay, thank you very much.



   

                   

All right. Call the Fairmont.

Close the floor if necessary,

but I want him sealed off.



   

                   

And he gets two hours max.



   

                   

-Great job, Goodspeed.

-Why didn't you throw in a trip

to Tahiti while you were at it?



   

                   

- I'll deliver this

to the Attorney General.

- Uh, no, you'll give it to me.

Give it to me, Reynolds.



   

                   

And take Attorney Reynolds

outside. There's a car

waiting for you. Thank you.



   

                   

That's a signed federal document, sir.

Isn't that illegal?



   

                   

You're not acquainted

with the full facts, Goodspeed.



   

                   

With all due respect, sir, I'd like

clarification. I gave that man my word.



   

                   

Damn it! You're on a need-to-know basis,

and you don't need to know.



   

                   

It's, uh, it's, eh,

kind of curious, but, uh,



   

                   

Sir Walter Raleigh,

Alcamenes, Solzhenitsyn,



   

                   

they, um, well, they were all

wrongfully imprisoned.



   

                   

Womack! Now, why am I not surprised,

you piece of shit!



   

                   

Eh, peace! Peace!



   

                   

Hey, we're not home.

Leave a message.



   

                   

Hi, darling, it's, uh, it's me.



   

                   

Uh, listen, don't come

to San Francisco.



   

                   

I repeat, do not come

to San Francisco.



   

                   

- Stanley, no!

- Carla.

- Wha--



   

                   

- Carla.

- Like hell I'm not coming!



   

                   

Wait. Car--



   

                   

Who's Carla? And why don't you

want her to come to San Francisco?



   

                   

You're on a need-to-know basis,

and you don't need to know.



   

                   

Watch it, he'll bite you.



   

                   

Good. Mobile Command

is fully operational.



   

                   

Good. Mobile Command

is fully operational.



   

                   

- We'll be there in

approximately two hours.

- I'm not armed, sir.

- Right.



   

                   

- I am unarmed, sir.

- Well, where's your issue?



   

                   

I left it in my,

uh, my sock drawer.



   

                   

A gun?



   

                   

For what?

You're a chemical freak.



   

                   

No, I'm a chemical super-freak,

actually. But I still need a gun.



   

                   

Give him a goddamn gun.



   

                   

Have you fired one of

those things since the Academy?



   

                   

- Wear some flowers in your hair

- If you're going to San Francisco



   

                   

Don't forget to wear

flowers in your hair



   

                   

- If you're going

- If you're going



   

                   

- To San Francisco

- To San Francisco



   

                   

- You're sure to meet

some gentle people there

- You're gonna meet



   

                   

- Some gentle people there

- And you come for--



   

                   

If you're going

to San Francisco



   

                   

Uh, uh, room service?



   

                   

Ah, listen. This is the penthouse.

Do you do snacks, drinks? Huh?



   

                   

Hello!



   

                   

- You the barber?

- No. Stylist.



   

                   

Barber.



   

                   

- Just clippers. No scissors.

- No scissors? You've got to be

kidding me, no scissors!



   

                   

I mean, did they tell Picasso,

"No brush"?



   

                   

With scissors,

this man could kill you.



   

                   

I can't cut anyone's balls off

with a trimmer now, can l?



   

                   

Why don't we do this outside?

Get some sun.



   

                   

Oh, who did this to you? This is

just not right. In fact, it's nasty!



   

                   

Well, it's a grunge thing.



   

                   

Well, it's some kind of thing.



   

                   

Do you think we have time for a sea kelp

protein pack and maybe some color?



   

                   

No.



   

                   

Okay. Not very nice, is he?



   

                   

No, he's not.



   

                   

'Cause I'm leavin'



   

                   

Hey, somebody ordered it.

Can't let it go to waste.



   

                   

- Don't know when I'll be back again

- Don't you ever stop eatin'?



   

                   

Not when it's free.



   

                   

- We're supposed to be on duty.

- Hey, don't worry. He's an old man.



   

                   

The boss is watchin' 'im. Come on.

Have-- Try some of this lobster.



   

                   

-Mm-hmm.

-My secretary here will settle the bill.



   

                   

So what do you have in store for me,

Womack, when this is over?



   

                   

You'll get your life back, Mason.



   

                   

But you could've given me

my life back years ago.



   

                   

- Why should I trust you now?

- You've got my word.



   

                   

Will you shake on it?



   

                   

- Freeze, mister!

- Oh, man!



   

                   

Help!



   

                   

Drop the gun,

or I drop your boss.



   

                   

You will not!



   

                   

Get!



   

                   

- He's getting very heavy.

- Then pull him up.



   

                   

Please don't!



   

                   

Help! Shit!



   

                   

Come on. Have a scallop.

Come on. Catch.



   

                   

You hoist him!



   

                   

Help! Help! Help!



   

                   

- Where's Mason? Where is Mason?

- Help! Hang on!



   

                   

- Where's Mason?

- Mason's gone!

- Gone?



   

                   

Clear.



   

                   

Living room's clear!



   

                   

Oh, my God! Oh, my God!



   

                   

All units, this is Caretaker.

We have a Signal Six. He's in the hotel!



   

                   

Okay, I don't wanna know

nothin'. I never saw you throw

that gentleman off the balcony.



   

                   

All I care about is, a-are

you happy with your haircut?



   

                   

Easy!



   

                   

Watch it, you fuckhead,

you're gonna pull my arm out!



   

                   

Watch out!



   

                   

Oh, no!



   

                   

Watch it!



   

                   

- Hey, watch it!

- He's over there!



   

                   

Hey!



   

                   

This is my Humvee. I don't want

any dings, dents or scratches,

or I'll have your ass. Hey!



   

                   

Hey! Stop! Hey!



   

                   

Hey, I was inside the bedroom

with Jack Powell!



   

                   

Hey, call the guard! Go!



   

                   

FBl.



   

                   

Move!



   

                   

Whoa! Whoa!



   

                   

Suspect is in a black Humvee,

heading west on California.



   

                   

Speed approximately

   miles per hour.



   

                   

Get out of the way!



   

                   

I want a net put on this

son of a bitch, you hear me?



   

                   

This guy's hittin' every fuckin' thing

in sight tryin' to block us!



   

                   

I hope you're insured!



   

                   

Oh, well, why not?



   

                   

You're goin' down!



   

                   

Hello?



   

                   

I'm only borrowing your Humvee!



   

                   

Information? San Francisco?



   

                   

Uh, Jade Angelou.

That's A-N-G--



   

                   

Welcome aboard, y'all.

How y'all doin' today?



   

                   

Hang on!



   

                   

Holy shit!



   

                   

Whoa-oa!



   

                   

Oh, no!



   

                   

We're gonna crash!

Save yourselves!



   

                   

Oh, my baby!



   

                   

Oh, no!



   

                   

Oh, no.



   

                   

Oh, God!



   

                   

Oh, God!



   

                   

Hey, man, you just fucked up

your Ferrari.



   

                   

- Oh, no! Baby's goin' down in flames!

- It's not mine.



   

                   

Neither is this!





 

                   

Hey, man, you just fucked up

your Ferrari.



 

                   

- Oh, no! Baby's goin' down in flames!

- It's not mine.



 

                   

Neither is this!



 

                   

Damn! This sucks!

Where's that son of a bitch at?



 

                   

I'm gonna hunt him down!

That motherfucker ain't safe nowhere.



 

                   

- Chem weapons. Isherwood.

- Marvin, look up Wolfburg

Federal Penitentiary.



 

                   

The inmate is Mason, John.



 

                   

Hey, Stan, listen, I'm gettin'

out of this government shithole.



 

                   

I'm goin' over to Orkin to

design roach motels. Cool, huh?



  

                   

Look, I just stole

a kid's motorcycle.



  

                   

I'm not really feeling too good

about it, okay? Wolfburg. Got it?



  

                   

Yeah, I got it. All right,

Magrane, Masconi, Masters. No Mason.



  

                   

Go to February '  . Who was transferred

to Wolfburg from San Quentin?



  

                   

This is weird.

They got medical records.



  

                   

They got place of birth. Glasgow.

Uh, but they don't have a name.



  

                   

Uh, wait a minute, wait a minute.

They have next of kin.



  

                   

A Jade Angelou

of    Stenson Drive, San Francisco.



  

                   

Jade?



  

                   

No, Stacy. Jade's friend.



  

                   

Were you afraid

to come alone?



  

                   

Yeah.



  

                   

- It's okay.

- I'll be over here if you need me.



  

                   

The last photograph I had of you,

you were about ten.



  

                   

Yeah?



  

                   

Well, I found a picture of you

among my mom's things when she died.



  

                   

Oh, yeah? Well, uh--

Why don't we take a walk?



  

                   

I got 'im.

Palace of Fine Arts.



  

                   

Your mother, uh-- Yeah, well,

sh-she was very special.



  

                   

Yeah, she was.



  

                   

But I don't think that we

should romanticize what happened

between you and her.



  

                   

Meeting in a bar

after a Led Zeppelin concert.



  

                   

Head out, and I was the result.



  

                   

Well, I'd like to think it

would've led somewhere if only--



  

                   

If only what? Six federal marshals

hadn't kicked down our door...



  

                   

and dragged you back to prison?



  

                   

- I'm sorry.

- It's all right.



  

                   

- So, they let you out?

- Yeah.



  

                   

That's good.



  

                   

What did you do?



  

                   

J--



  

                   

Jade, I don't have

a great deal of time here.



  

                   

But I'll be coming back.

And, uh--



  

                   

- Maybe we can--

- What? We can what?



  

                   

You know, you're almost

the only evidence...



  

                   

that I exist.



  

                   

But I don't know you.



  

                   

That's what I want to change, eh?



  

                   

I've rehearsed this speech a thousand

times on the chance that we would meet.



  

                   

Here we are, and I'm lost.



  

                   

Well, I don't know how

I'm supposed to be feeling either.



  

                   

Jade, I'm not an evil man.



  

                   

If you can believe that,

then it's a start.



  

                   

Okay.



  

                   

Is this about you?



  

                   

You broke out of prison again,

didn't you? Why did you come to me?



  

                   

FBl, ma'am.

Your father's working with us.



  

                   

He's helping us resolve

a dangerous situation.



  

                   

- He is?

- Yes, ma'am.



  

                   

Well, gee whiz, John,

I guess we oughta get goin', huh?



  

                   

Whatever you say, Stanley.



  

                   

Thank you for that.

You could've handled it differently.



  

                   

What do you say we cut

the chitchat, a-hole?



  

                   

You almost got me killed twice.

And my jaw hurts like hell!



  

                   

- Good.

- Cocksucker!



  

                   

If I had my way, you would be shipped

back to Wolfburg in leg irons...



  

                   

and caged like an animal for the rest

of your natural fucking life!



  

                   

You wrecked half the city!



  

                   

Now, tell me about the tunnels.



  

                   

If you know the system, it will

take you wherever you need to go.



  

                   

All right, there's an intake pipe here,

below low tide. Is that our best access?



  

                   

Yes. That's exactly

where I had come out.



  

                   

Then beneath the cistern,

there's a connection

to the abandoned septic system.



  

                   

Then beneath the cistern,

there's a connection

to the abandoned septic system.



  

                   

How many feet is that?



  

                   

Uh,    paces.



  

                   

Where do we go from there?



  

                   

Where do we go from there?



  

                   

That's a good question.



  

                   

- I have no idea.

- What?



  

                   

I mean, I'll know it

when we're all inside.



  

                   

No. You're not goddamn goin'.

Show us on the blueprints.



  

                   

I can't! My blueprint

was in my head.



  

                   

I was underground

for three days in the dark...



  

                   

just waiting for the tides

to be right.



  

                   

But don't worry.

It'll all come back to me.



  

                   

You're not going anywhere, Mason.



  

                   

Wait a second. Now, this piece

of work might be the only chance

those people over there have.



  

                   

If he's not going, then why the

hell did we get him out of jail?



  

                   

- He's smart.

- I got him out to get you

people in, not go with you.



  

                   

If it's the only way of getting

the intelligence I need, then he goes.



  

                   

He'll fuck with you.



  

                   

You compromise my men's lives,

and I'll bury you out there.



  

                   

Now, Womack...



  

                   

you're between The Rock

and a hard case.



  

                   

How is your bowling arm?



  

                   

Dr. Goodspeed, the goal is

to take out the launchers,



  

                   

then neutralize

the V.X. chemical rounds.



  

                   

Well, we know the poison's being

kept in the prison morgue from

the satellite thermal imaging...



  

                   

which is right here;

these colorized dots.



   

                   

-Have you ever actually seen

one of these devices?

-No, sir, but I've studied them.



   

                   

I should really begin briefing your guys

on defusing and detoxification.



   

                   

Got a really neat layout over here of

the chem round as well as the rocket...



   

                   

- so let's get rolling.

- That won't be necessary.



   

                   

Oh, it's very necessary, sir.



   

                   

The power of this chemical

is way beyond anything you can imagine.



   

                   

An ecological disaster, sir.



   

                   

Plus the devices themselves

are complicated.



   

                   

That's why you're

coming with us.



   

                   

-I am?

-You're the expert. What's your problem?



   

                   

You mean I'm going, going out there,

under the water?



   

                   

Well, earlier today

you wanted a gun.



   

                   

Now you're getting a gun

and a wet suit.



   

                   

Have you ever been

in a combat situation?



   

                   

- Define "combat," sir.

- Shep?



   

                   

An incursion underwater to

retake an impregnable fortress

held by an elite team...



   

                   

of U.S. Marines in possession

of    hostages and    guided rockets...



   

                   

armed with V.X. poisoned gas.



   

                   

Oh. In that case, no, sir.

Excuse me.



   

                   

- Here.

- Ah, thank you.



   

                   

You don't look too good.



   

                   

In fact, you look like shit.



   

                   

My stomach's doing hula hoops

around my ass.



   

                   

You all right?



   

                   

I mean, you gonna make it

through this thing?



   

                   

I don't know.



   

                   

I always expected something

like this was going to happen...



   

                   

but nothing prepares you for it.



   

                   

Now I'm--

I'm responsible...



   

                   

for a whole city.



   

                   

Look, I know this

isn't easy for you.



   

                   

Remember, you were trained

for this kind of a situation...



   

                   

and believe me,

it'll come back to you.



   

                   

Besides, you got the best SEAL team

in the country backing you up.



   

                   

Okay. You're right.



   

                   

I-l'll be on the wire.

I'll help talk you through it.



   

                   

There's something else.



   

                   

It's terrible.

N-No, it's wonderful...



   

                   

except it isn't.



   

                   

My girlfriend's pregnant...



   

                   

and she's just flown in to see me.



   

                   

You keep your mind on what you're going

to be doing out there tonight.



   

                   

And I'll send someone to pick up

your girlfriend and bring her

here to the command center.



   

                   

Hummel!

- Hello, Frank. Lou Linstrom.



   

                   

I'm at the White House

with General Kramer.



   

                   

Uh, Frank, uh, we're havin' a few

problems with the account transfer.



   

                   

- Don't tell me problems.

Tell me solutions.

- Now, we've spoken to the president...



   

                   

and I know that you're

well aware of his stance on terrorism.



   

                   

- So what we'd like to do is--

- This isn't about terrorism.

This is about justice.



   

                   

It's about reminding you people

who found it politically

convenient to forget.



   

                   

This is goin' nowhere, Frank.



   

                   

Well, then, let me tell you what is.



   

                   

Fifteen V.X. gas rockets

into the heart of San Francisco.



   

                   

You've got    hours

to deliver the money.



   

                   

Or be prepared to reap

the whirlwind, gentlemen.



   

                   

- What's the word from Mojave?

- General Peterson can give us...



   

                   

no definite assurance

on the thermite plasma.



   

                   

That is the word.



   

                   

Green light to SEAL incursion.



   

                   

Fall in! All right, listen up.



   

                   

Mr. Mason will run point for us.



   

                   

Lieutenant Shepard

will be attached to his hip.



   

                   

You breathe, he breathes with you.

You piss, he helps.



   

                   

Understood?



   

                   

Dr. Goodspeed is our specialist.



   

                   

When he neutralizes the threat,

we launch green flares

and we wait for the cavalry.



   

                   

Make no mistake, gentlemen.

We're in the fight of our lives...



   

                   

against maybe the greatest

battalion commander in the Vietnam War.



   

                   

I shit you not.



   

                   

Any questions?



   

                   

Let's load up!



   

                   

After you, ace.



   

                   

Pass out and activate

the minicams.



   

                   

Everything set here?

Minicams operational?



   

                   

Roger that, sir.

We are on-line.



   

                   

Shep, what's the status on the special

operational gear for Mr. Mason?



   

                   

Uh, let's see.

We have, uh...



   

                   

one quart of kerosene

in a squeeze bottle.



   

                   

Three washers and waterproof matches.



   

                   

Use the green flares to signal

when the threat has been neutralized.



   

                   

Now, this is atropine.

If you come in contact with the gas...



   

                   

you have    seconds

to inject it into your heart.



   

                   

Don't fuck with me on this.

It may save your life.



   

                   

I have three incoming bogeys

bearing    .



   

                   

Range:      meters.



   

                   

FBI Command Center?



   

                   

- Oh, I would just love for you

to tell me what is goin' on.

- Nope.



   

                   

Listen, Stanley Goodspeed

is my boyfriend.

Actually, he's, um, my fiance.



   

                   

- Where is he?

- Classified, lady.



   

                   

Okay. Well, you just sit here

and act like a Bureau bonehead, then.



   

                   

Hey, where are you g--

Goddamn it!



   

                   

Decoy choppers

commencing run to Alcatraz.



   

                   

I just lost one, sir.

I just lost one.



   

                   

- We only got two flying in.

I just lost one.

- Shit!



   

                   

In my day, we did it all

with a snorkel and a pair of flippers.



   

                   

- Your day?

- Yes. Didn't you read my resume?



   

                   

I don't--

I don't know anything about you.



   

                   

- Hmm. I know something

about you, Godspell.

- Goodspeed.



   

                   

Goodspeed, Godspeed,

Godspell...



   

                   

you never went to

any antiterrorist school.



   

                   

So just make sure you don't

get us all fucking killed.



   

                   

- We're goin' dark.

- Night vision!



   

                   

Raider One has dropped

below radar coverage...



   

                   

heading around

Treasure lsland.



   

                   

Sir, we've got two bogeys

bearing due east and closing.



   

                   

Decoys?



   

                   

- Prepare to deploy!

- Good luck, Commander.



   

                   

Sir, Raider One

is at the drop zone.



   

                   

Stanley's not a very good swimmer.

I mean, he can't even snorkel.



   

                   

- Everyone, good to go?

- Good to go!



   

                   

- Good to go!

- Good to go! Good to go!



   

                   

All right, so the S.D.U.s

have been deployed,

and the Eagles are in the water.



   

                   

Major, I want the perimeter patrolled

to the west end of the island.



   

                   

- Double-time it.

- Yes, sir. Hendrix!



   

                   

- You lead the patrol.

- Aye, aye, sir.



   

                   

Let's move. Move out!

Move out! Move out!



   

                   

The Eagles are on The Rock.

They've entered the cistern room.



   

                   

Thank you very fucking much,

Mr. Mason.



   

                   

You've led us into a room

with no exit.



   

                   

- Any ideas, Dillinger?

- Figure it out soon.

We're sitting ducks.



   

                   

We're a little tight on time.



   

                   

You stand by the door

until I open it.



   

                   

I'd like to know how you plan

on accomplishing that?



   

                   

Through here.



   

                   

- You're shitting me.

- I memorized the timing.



   

                   

I just hope it hasn't been changed.



   

                   

You catch one of those flame bursts,

you're a corpse.



   

                   

- Thank you.

- Commander, you said never

to leave his sight, but, uh--



   

                   

Stand fast, Lieutenant.



   

                   

Have a nice day.



   

                   

- Where'd you dig up this guy?

- That's classified.



   

                   

Clear here, sir.

No motion sensors tripped.



   

                   

- Nothing.

- Well, tell 'em to stay out there.



   

                   

Sweep forward!



   

                   

Looks like he fucked us, Commander.



   

                   

I knew it.

That son of a bitch jumped ship.



   

                   

Welcome to The Rock.



   

                   

- Mason.

- That's a no-no.



   

                   

That's the subway.

That'll drop you into the tunnels.



   

                   

Do it!



   

                   

Sir, the Eagles have breached

the tunnel system.



   

                   

You enjoying this?



   

                   

Well, it's certainly more enjoyable

than my average day.



   

                   

Reading philosophy,

avoiding gang rape in the washroom.



   

                   

Though it's less of a problem these

days. Maybe I'm losing my sex appeal.



   

                   

We've got seismic activity

in one of the storm grates. North side.



   

                   

Continue patrolling the area.



   

                   

Sweep forward!



   

                   

Commander, halt.

We've got movement.



   

                   

- They're hearing sounds above, sir.

- Stand fast.



   

                   

Down, down, down.



   

                   

West storm drain's clear.



   

                   

Ninety-seven paces

to the shower room.



   

                   

The Eagles are now at the access

tunnel. They're right under

the shower room, sir.



   

                   

Fiber optics.



   

                   

- Something's not right.

- I got a bad feeling about this.



   

                   

Quiet.



   

                   

Motion sensors.



   

                   

- Beams cutting across

the manhole covers.

- Deal with it.



   

                   

Commander, the beam is hitting

some sort of reflective device.



   

                   

Possibly a prism.



   

                   

I want to use a mirror

to cut the beam...



   

                   

send the beam back to its source,

and then I'm gonna move the prism.



   

                   

We've got motion on a trembler

in the shower room, sir.



   

                   

We've got visitors.

Let's move.



   

                   

Got it.

Good to go.



   

                   

- Fuck, man! I knew this

would happen! Fuck!

- Move!



   

                   

Stand fast.

We'll secure the area.



   

                   

They're entering

into the shower room, sir.



   

                   

They're securing the area.



   

                   

Just sit tight.



   

                   

Drop your weapons!

Drop 'em!



   

                   

- Stand fast!

- Hold your fire!



   

                   

- Drop your weapons!

- Hold your fire!



   

                   

It's a fucking trap.



   

                   

This is General Hummel.



   

                   

Drop your weapons. Drop 'em!



   

                   

Anderson here,

General Hummel.



   

                   

Commander. Team leader.



   

                   

Commander Anderson, if you have

any concern for the lives of your men...



   

                   

you will order them to safety their

weapons and place them on the deck.



   

                   

This is not happening.



   

                   

Sir, we know why

you're out here.



   

                   

God knows I agree with you.



   

                   

But like you, I swore to defend

this country against all enemies...



   

                   

foreign, sir, and domestic.



   

                   

General, we've spilled

the same blood in the same mud.



   

                   

You know goddamn well

I can't give that order.



   

                   

We're dead.



   

                   

Your unit is covered

from an elevated position, Commander.



   

                   

I'm not gonna ask you again.

Don't do anything stupid.



   

                   

No one has to die here.



   

                   

Men following the general, you're

under oath as United States Marines!



   

                   

Have you forgotten that?



   

                   

We all have shipmates

we remember.



   

                   

Some of them were shit on

and pissed on by the Pentagon.



   

                   

- But that doesn't give you

the right to mutiny!

- You call it what you want!



   

                   

You're down there, we're up here.

You walked into the wrong

goddamn room, Commander!



   

                   

- Stand fast!

- Goddamn it, Commander, one last time.



   

                   

You tell your men to safety

their weapons, drop 'em on the deck.



   

                   

- I cannot give that order!

- I am not gonna repeat that order!



   

                   

- I will not give that order!

- What the hell is wrong with you, man?



   

                   

- Stand fast!

- Oh, my God!



   

                   

- Let's waste these fuckers.

- One last time. You order your

men to safety their weapons--



   

                   

Cease fire!



   

                   

Don't go.



   

                   

Cease fire!



   

                   

Cease fire!



   

                   

Shit! Goddamn it!



   

                   

Let go of me.

Let go of me!



   

                   

Don't. Don't go.



   

                   

It's over.



   

                   

Oh, God!



   

                   

Later.



   

                   

- We got some movement.

- Who?

- Two of 'em!



   

                   

- Who is it?

- Eagles    and   .



   

                   

- I-lt's Goodspeed and Mason.

- I knew it.



   

                   

I've gotta get a team together

right now. We've gotta move

with the second option.



   

                   

What, and invite

another massacre? No way.



   

                   

We've got a   -year-old convict and

a lab rat. I'm telling you, it's over.



   

                   

Not for Mason, it isn't.



   

                   

Goodspeed, I'm not gonna kill you.



   

                   

- Where are you going?

- Off this bloody island.



   

                   

What? Wh-Wh-What for?



   

                   

Goodspeed.

Goodspeed, do you read me?



   

                   

It's for you.



   

                   

- Sir?

- What's the status?



   

                   

The status is they're dead.

They're dead!



   

                   

It's just me and Mason.

Now he says he's leaving.



   

                   

That is unacceptable.

Do you hear me? Unacceptable!



   

                   

Well, there's a problem, sir.

He's got a gun.



   

                   

What do you have,

a fuckin' water pistol?



   

                   

- No, sir.

- Go after him and stop him.



   

                   

I didn't want this.



   

                   

- Jesus, I didn't want this.

- You knew this might happen, Frank.



   

                   

- Well, maybe now they'll pay up.

- Maybe now they won't, Captain.



   

                   

Then maybe we need to execute

a few hostages.



   

                   

- Got a live one!

- Put a bullet in him.



   

                   

- You heard him. End it!

- Holster that sidearm, Captain.



   

                   

Sir?



   

                   

You made a terrible mistake.



   

                   

And more of our brothers

have died in vain.



   

                   

Damn you for forcing me

into this position.



   

                   

I need to talk to you

right now, alone.



   

                   

Now you told me

I'm on a need-to-know basis.



   

                   

And I'm tellin' you right now,

I need to know who the fuck

John Mason is right now, sir.



   

                   

All right, you wanna know?

     J. Edgar Hoover...



   

                   

is head of the FBl,

some say the country.



   

                   

It's no secret he kept microfilm files

on prominent Americans and Europeans:



   

                   

de Gaulle, British members

of Parliament, even the prime minister.



   

                   

I mean, this guy had dirt

on everybody in the world.



   

                   

Yeah, I know all the cloak-and-dagger

stories. Where does Mason fit in?



   

                   

Mason was the British operative

who stole the files.



   

                   

But our Bureau agents caught him

at the Canadian border.



   

                   

Of course, the British claimed

they'd never heard of him.



   

                   

And we held him

without trial...



   

                   

until he gave up the microfilm,

but he never did.



   

                   

Well, I'm surprised Hoover

didn't use his daughter as leverage.



   

                   

Hoover was dead in '  .

She wasn't born yet.



   

                   

Today, well, it's

a different Bureau.



   

                   

So you held this guy without trial

his whole life! No wonder he's pissed.



   

                   

This man knows our most intimate secrets

from the last half century:



   

                   

the alien landing at Roswell, the truth

about the J.F.K. assassination.



   

                   

And Mason's angry, he's lethal,

he's a trained killer.



   

                   

And he is the only hope

that we have got.



   

                   

Mason! Mason!



   

                   

There are    hostages

still up there.



   

                   

Yeah, like me.



   

                   

All right, you wanna play tough?

You wanna play tough with me?



   

                   

Okay. FBl!

Freeze, sucker!



   

                   

- I'll fire.

- No, you won't.



   

                   

- Throw down.

- You're not the sort.



   

                   

Let's find out.



   

                   

I could; you, no.



   

                   

Besides, your safety's on.



   

                   

Goodspeed, have you

resolved the situation?



   

                   

Not yet.



   

                   

-He's got all the guns now, sir.

-Shit!



   

                   

You're right, I don't use guns

and I don't kick down doors.



   

                   

- This is what I do.

- I haven't got my glasses.



   

                   

What it says

is Chemical Weapons Specialist.



   

                   

That's right.

I got a lunatic up there, man...



   

                   

with    missiles armed

with some really funky stuff.



   

                   

That lying Womack.

You could've told my daughter.



   

                   

It was classified.

Look, I'm in the same situation.



   

                   

They've got my girlfriend in

the city with a baby on the way.



   

                   

Look, I can defuse the rockets.

I really can.



   

                   

But I'm gonna need your help,

and I'm gonna need it right now.



   

                   

Sir, this man's weapons

and tack radio are missing!



   

                   

Shit, we got a rodent problem.

Flush the pipes.



   

                   

There's probably a maze of

tunnels on this goddamn island.

Check every access you can find.



   

                   

Sir.



   

                   

Even if you escape

from the island...



   

                   

you can't escape

the rockets.



   

                   

So, where are you gonna go? Go where?

What are, what are you gonna do?



   

                   

- Show me where the morgue is, Mason.

- I'm out of here.



   

                   

What about your daughter? Mason?



   

                   

Rodents located.



   

                   

The way I see it, you don't

really have any choice, do you?



   

                   

I don't think you do.



   

                   

Move!



   

                   

They're onto us.



   

                   

Burn 'em out.



   

                   

This mother's gonna blow big.



   

                   

I don't understand. How could

we lose radio contact all of a sudden?



   

                   

We've lost coms.

Still got 'em on locaters.



   

                   

- So what's it gonna be?

- What?



   

                   

How do you like your choices?



   

                   

- I don't.

- That's what I thought.



   

                   

All right, come on.



   

                   

This is the oldest part

of Alcatraz.



   

                   

Did you know it was originally

a Civil War fort?



   

                   

Oh, really? Huh. Yeah, wow.

You know, I like history, too...



   

                   

and maybe when this is all over,

you and I can stop by

the souvenir shop together.



   

                   

But right now I just-- I just--

I wanna find some rockets.



   

                   

Don't tempt me.

We are going to the morgue.



   

                   

- You sure you're ready for this?

- I'll do my best.



   

                   

Your best?



   

                   

Losers always whine

about their best.



   

                   

Winners go home

and fuck the prom queen.



   

                   

Carla was the prom queen.



   

                   

- Really?

- Yeah.



   

                   

Locaters have them

approaching the morgue, sir.



   

                   

Come on, come on.

You can do it, Doc.



   

                   

You must never hesitate.



   

                   

I think you're shooting

too close to the rocket.



   

                   

Him, but not the rocket.



   

                   

Any other news, Professor?



   

                   

Not the rocket!

Not the rocket.



   

                   

I got a little somethin' for ya.



   

                   

Oh, yeah, okay. That's just about

the most awful thing I've ever seen.



   

                   

Mason...



   

                   

the second you don't

respect this, it kills you.



   

                   

Put it over there.



   

                   

You've been around a lot

of corpses. Is that normal?



   

                   

- What, the feet thing?

- Yeah, the feet thing.



   

                   

- Yeah, that happens.

- Well, I'm having kind of

a hard time concentrating.



   

                   

- Can you do something about it?

- Well, like what? Kill him again?



   

                   

Listen, I'm just a biochemist.



   

                   

And most of the time I work in a glass

jar and lead a very uneventful life.



   

                   

I drive a Volvo, a beige one.

But what I'm dealing with here...



   

                   

is one of the most deadly substances

the Earth has ever known.



   

                   

So what do you say you cut me

some friggin' slack?



   

                   

A really elegant

string-of-pearls configuration.



   

                   

Unfortunately, incredibly unstable.



   

                   

Well, what exactly does this stuff do?



   

                   

If the rocket renders it aerosol, it can

take out the entire city of people.



   

                   

Really? And what happens

if you drop one?



   

                   

Happily, it'll just wipe out

you and me.



   

                   

- How?

- It's a cholinesterase inhibitor.



   

                   

Stops the brain from

sending nerve messages down the

spinal cord within    seconds.



   

                   

Any epidermal exposure

or inhalation, and you'll know.



   

                   

A twinge at the small of your back as

the poison seizes your nervous system.



   

                   

Do not move that!



   

                   

Your muscles freeze,

you can't breathe.



   

                   

You spasm so hard you break

your own back, spit your guts out.



   

                   

But that's after

your skin melts off.



   

                   

My God.



   

                   

Oh, I think we'd like God

on our side at the moment, don't you?



   

                   

So what I'm doing now is removing

the guidance system chips...



   

                   

so the rocket will splash down

after     feet.



   

                   

All right, let me have that.



   

                   

You can let go of it. All right,

just back away. Just back away!



   

                   

Sir, morgue team

has not checked in.



   

                   

Blackbird One,

this is Blackbird. Over.



   

                   

Blackbird One, this is Blackbird.

Come in, goddamn it!



   

                   

Somebody's still there.

Let's move!



   

                   

Rats alive! Close on the morgue.

Close on the morgue.



   

                   

Go, go, go, go,

go, go, go.



   

                   

Frye, Darrow, hustle up.

We got more company!



   

                   

Hold it.



   

                   

Converge on the morgue.

Move out.



   

                   

Goodspeed, come on.

Come over here.



   

                   

Good. I love pressure.

I eat it for breakfast.



   

                   

Come on. Time's up.



   

                   

There's three rockets somewhere else.

We have to find them.



   

                   

Come on!



   

                   

Clear!



   

                   

I'm too old for this.



   

                   

- Where's it go?

- I've no idea.



   

                   

Sir, all the guidance chips

are gone.



   

                   

Captain, I guess you didn't

quite take care of the rat problem.



   

                   

- No, sir.

- Well, there are two dead men here...



   

                   

- who strongly suggest

you go finish the job.

- Yes, sir.



   

                   

Yes, sir!

Rio, Royce, let's go!



   

                   

Move out!



   

                   

-You really don't know where this goes?

-No, I don't know where it goes.



   

                   

Well, it's starting to pick up speed.

Do you know how to slow it down?



   

                   

No, I don't.



   

                   

God.



   

                   

Mason, you all right?



   

                   

Yes, perfectly okay,

you fucking idiot!



   

                   

- They're coming.

- Who?



   

                   

- The marines!

- Where?



   

                   

- What the fuck's goin' on?

- Let's cut him off.



   

                   

No! No! No!



   

                   

Mason!



   

                   

Mason!





 

                   

You motherfucker!

Die! Die! Die!



 

                   

I'm rather glad

you didn't hesitate too long.



 

                   

How do you do it?



 

                   

Oh, I was trained by the best.

British lntelligence.



 

                   

Come on.



 

                   

But in retrospect, I'd rather

have been a poet or a farmer.



 

                   

Okay.



 

                   

Okay, the president arrives

in three hours.



 

                   

His directive is to string Hummel along

until the air strike is operational.



  

                   

- What's the word from Mohave, General?

- The same as last time, Lou.



  

                   

They're going as fast as they can.



  

                   

- Do it over here.

- On your knees. On your knees!



  

                   

Navy SEALs, listen up. You've got

something that belongs to me.



  

                   

Twelve guidance chips,

to be precise.



  

                   

Let me remind you there are

lives at stake, civilian lives.



  

                   

Speak up.



  

                   

- Speak up!

- I, uh, uh--



  

                   

- Tell them your name.

- My name is Larry Henderson.



  

                   

- Oh, man.

- And I'm a father of three.



  

                   

And, uh, they've got a gun

to my head.



  

                   

You've got exactly three minutes

to return the guidance chips

to the exercise yard...



  

                   

- or Mr. Henderson won't have a head.

- Oh, no.



  

                   

Hey. Wha--



  

                   

Now, three to go.



  

                   

You find them

and defuse them, okay?



  

                   

- All right.

- All right.



  

                   

I'll try and delay Hummel

and give you more time.



  

                   

Hey, what about

Mr. Henderson's head?



  

                   

Okay? What do you mean?



  

                   

Okay.



  

                   

- General.

- Who the hell are you?



  

                   

I'm all that's left

of the enemy.



  

                   

Bingo.



  

                   

Stand easy.



  

                   

Thought I'd been in the service

a long time.



  

                   

- Name and rank, sailor.

- Well, it's army, actually.



  

                   

Answer the question.

And address him as "General, sir."



  

                   

Captain John Patrick Mason,

General, sir...



  

                   

of Her Majesty's S.A.S.

Retired, of course.



  

                   

You're a long way

from home, Captain.



  

                   

How the hell are you

involved in this?



  

                   

Oh, I have a unique knowledge

of this prison facility.



  

                   

I was, uh, formerly a guest here.



  

                   

Hi, sweetie.



  

                   

Hey, come back here, little boy.



  

                   

Did they bother to tell you

who I am, why I'm doing this?



  

                   

Or are they just using you

like they do everybody else?



  

                   

All I know is you were big in Vietnam.

I saw the highlights on television.



  

                   

Then you wouldn't have any

fuckin' idea what it means

to lead some of the finest men...



  

                   

on God's earth into battle,

and then see their memory betrayed

by their own fuckin' government.



  

                   

I don't quite see how you cherish

the memory of the dead...



  

                   

by killing another million.



  

                   

And, uh, this is not combat.



  

                   

It's an act of lunacy, General, sir.



  

                   

Personally, I think

you're a fuckin' idiot.



  

                   

"The tree of liberty must be

refreshed from time to time...



  

                   

with the blood of patriots

and tyrants." Thomas Jefferson.



  

                   

"Patriotism is the virtue of

the vicious," according to Oscar Wilde.



  

                   

- Thank you for making my point.

- Where are the guidance chips?



  

                   

Where are the guidance chips?



  

                   

- I destroyed them.

- That was a bad move, soldier.



  

                   

Does that mean

you'll execute us both?



  

                   

You're lucky that old man Hummel

wants you alive.



  

                   

'Cause I'll take pleasure

in guttin' you, boy.



  

                   

I'd take pleasure

in guttin' you



  

                   

Boy



  

                   

"l'll take pleasure

in guttin' you, boy."



  

                   

What is wrong

with these people, huh, Mason?



  

                   

Don't you think there's

a lot of, uh, a lot of anger

floatin' around this island?



  

                   

Kind of a pubescent volatility?

Don't you think?



  

                   

A lot of angst, a lot of, "l'm   

I'm angry at my father" syndrome?



  

                   

I mean, grow up!

We're stuck on an island...



  

                   

with a bunch of

violence-for-pleasure-seeking

psychopathic marines.



  

                   

Shame on them!



  

                   

Anyway, I only got one chem round.

There's two left.



  

                   

- Mason?

- Yes, I'm here.



  

                   

I was just thinking

how wonderful it was...



  

                   

when the inmates weren't allowed

to talk in here.



  

                   

Not allowed to talk.



  

                   

How'd you do it?



  

                   

Uh, nurtured the hope

that there was hope.



  

                   

That one day I'd breathe free air.



  

                   

Perhaps meet my daughter.



  

                   

Modest hopes, but, uh,

they kept a man alive.



  

                   

What'd they put you

away for, John?



  

                   

Oh, that's a long story.



  

                   

Well, I'm not goin' anywhere.



  

                   

When was the last communication

from our men on Alcatraz?



  

                   

Seven hours.



  

                   

Thermite plasma is operational.



  

                   

- Get me the president.

- Be seated.



  

                   

Gentlemen, consider yourselves

on ground alert. If we receive

launch authority...



  

                   

your mission is the complete thermal

destruction of Alcatraz lsland.



  

                   

The entire island is to be blanketed,

not one square inch missed.



  

                   

Eighty-one American civilians

and a number of U.S. Marines...



  

                   

will lose their lives

in this air strike.



  

                   

Why didn't you just tell them

where the microfilm was...



  

                   

and, and create a solution?



  

                   

Hmph. The moment they had

the microfilm, they'd suicide me.



   

                   

- Some solution.

- And you ended up here.



   

                   

Which brings me to another question.

When you broke out--



   

                   

Let me see if I can get this straight.

You went down the incinerator chute...



   

                   

on the mine cars, through

the tunnels to the power plant...



   

                   

under the steam engine--

That was really cool, by the way--



   

                   

and into the cistern

through the intake pipe.



   

                   

But how, in the name

of Zeus's butthole...



   

                   

did you get out

of your cell?



   

                   

I only ask because

in our current situation...



   

                   

well, it could prove

to be useful information, maybe!



   

                   

Trade secrets, my son.



   

                   

Wow.



   

                   

General,

two operational rockets left.



   

                   

One's at the lower lighthouse

and there is one on the roof.



   

                   

And both of the birds

are ready to fly, sir.



   

                   

- G-General, can you hear me?

- I heard you, Captain.



   

                   

Oh, just makin' sure.



   

                   

Should we prepare

for launch, General?



   

                   

I'll handle the strategy, Captain.



   

                   

Yes, sir.



   

                   

The hour is approaching, sir.

Just letting the General know

of the time, sir.



   

                   

- I'm very aware of the time, Captain.

- Aye, aye, sir. Lettin' you know.



   

                   

Me and my boys are ready to

cock, lock, and ready to rock.



   

                   

Mason, where're you going?



   

                   

Thirty years ago I vowed

I wouldn't die in this toilet.



   

                   

You're not leaving! There's a madman in

there with his hand on a, on a button!



   

                   

Shh. Some sniper's

gonna get his ass.



   

                   

Stop moving, Mason.



   

                   

Mason, stop moving.



   

                   

Hummel won't do it.

He's a soldier, not a murderer.



   

                   

- I read it in his eyes.

- You read his eyes?



   

                   

Oh, well, then,

everything's just fine!



   

                   

- I can't afford to take that chance.

- Why don't you talk louder?



   

                   

Three minutes to go, sir.



   

                   

- They're not gonna call, Frank.

- Oh, they'll call.



   

                   

They'll call if we fire

one of our rockets up their ass.



   

                   

Sir.



   

                   

- Hummel.

- Hi, Frank. It's AI Kramer here.



   

                   

- How's it going out there?

- How do you think it's goin'?



   

                   

- Listen, on this end we're gonna

need another hour, Frank.

- You've got three minutes.



   

                   

Listen, uh, Frank, we have to get final

authorization from the president.



   

                   

You've got three minutes.



   

                   

Frank, please don't do

anything stupid.



   

                   

They want another hour.



   

                   

Well, that's bullshit.

That's bullshit, General. They're lyin'!



   

                   

They're calling our bluff, sir.



   

                   

They're playing you

for a fool, sir.



   

                   

Order the launch, General.



   

                   

Come on, General.

Let's be all we can be.



   

                   

The mission's not complete!



   

                   

Well, mine is.



   

                   

When this is over,

you'll go back home...



   

                   

driving Carla and your baby insane

in your beige Volvo.



   

                   

And I'll be dead or back in prison,

which is the same thing.



   

                   

You're not leaving.



   

                   

All right, I'll do it myself.



   

                   

I got three weeks'

weapons training.



   

                   

I'll kick the-- Out of

a platoon full of marines.



   

                   

No problem.



   

                   

- Major, patch me into Roof Battery.

- Aye, sir.



   

                   

Fire open control circuit

coordinates to the roof, sir.



   

                   

Let's go!



   

                   

Laser powered up!



   

                   

- Oh, no.

- I said, on your knees!



   

                   

My name's Stanley Goodspeed. I'm a

chemical weapons specialist for the FBl.



   

                   

- Uh, glass or plastic?

- What?



   

                   

- Glass or plastic? Glass or plastic?

- Shut the fuck up!



   

                   

Because if the winds change

after you launch those rockets...



   

                   

- we're all gonna die.

- Shut up!



   

                   

And you're gonna end up in either

a glass jar or a plastic bag.



   

                   

So, what do you say you do the math,

h-hand over the gun...



   

                   

- and let's go find some rockets?

- I said shut the fuck--



   

                   

- You made the right choice.

- I decided I didn't want your child...



   

                   

growing up without a father.



   

                   

Hey, the last time I swam

this channel I was your age.



   

                   

So, I'm fucked either way.

So, come on.



   

                   

Weapon is hot. I am standing by

for the launch command.



   

                   

Man, killing Navy SEALs

is one thing--



   

                   

- Is this for real?

- Hey, it's business.



   

                   

Access code entered.

Weapon available for release.



   

                   

Launch coordinates: six, seven,



   

                   

five, four, five, niner.



   

                   

The weapon is hot.

I'm standing by for launch command.



   

                   

That's affirmative.



   

                   

Standing by for command.



   

                   

I'm waiting for

launch command, General.



   

                   

- Fire.

- Fire!



   

                   

Missile loose!

Missile loose!



   

                   

Origin:

Alcatraz,         .



   

                   

- What's the goddamn heading?

- Heading     degrees south southeast.



   

                   

- Speed?

- Three hundred knots.

It's headed right at Oakland.



   

                   

Football game.



   

                   

Oh, my God.



   

                   

Missile radically

changing direction.



   

                   

New direction:     degrees west.

It's headed out to sea, sir.



   

                   

Oh, Christ!



   

                   

Missile losing altitude. Falling.



   

                   

Falling,     feet,        .



   

                   

Bogey detonated

under water.



   

                   

What the fuck?



   

                   

It missed.



   

                   

- Well, that's great.

- Extremely great.



   

                   

But there's still one left.



   

                   

What happened to the rocket? What

the fuck happened to the coordinates?



   

                   

What the fuck is going on?

Sir! Major!



   

                   

- Captain, step outside.

- Talk to me, sir.



   

                   

Captain, step outside!



   

                   

Get me the Pentagon.



   

                   

What the hell was that, Frank?



   

                   

- I said, what the hell--

- I heard what you said!

lf you're gonna be insubordinate...



   

                   

- I'd appreciate it if you'd do

it with a little more respect.

- Cut the crap, General.



   

                   

- What the hell are you doing?

- I'm not ready to kill these people.



   

                   

- Call the Pentagon. Ask for more time.

- No!



   

                   

Do it, Frank!

We're coming loose.



   

                   

You're coming loose.

The rest of us are in complete control.



   

                   

- We're askin' 'em.

We're askin' 'em for a new deadline.

- Put the phone down.



   

                   

- The men are falling apart.

- The men are marines!



   

                   

Are they?



   

                   

- I wanna talk to General Kramer.

- You've been asked by an old friend.



   

                   

- Put him on the phone right now.

- You've been ordered

by a superior officer.



   

                   

-This is Major Baxter.

-Now you're being given your

last chance by a man with a gun.



   

                   

Put the phone down.



   

                   

- I thought you weren't ready to kill.

- I'm warmin' up.



   

                   

At ease.



   

                   

They need a decision,

Mr. President.



   

                   

These past few hours...



   

                   

have been the longest,

darkest of my life.



   

                   

How does one weigh human life?



   

                   

One million civilians

against    hostages.



   

                   

And in the middle, Frank Hummel.



   

                   

That we have ignored,

abandoned or marginalized...



   

                   

a great soldier like Frank Hummel...



   

                   

and that American boys have paid

for that neglect in blood...



   

                   

is equally real

and equally tragic.



   

                   

We are at war with terror.



   

                   

Fighting a war means casualties.



   

                   

This is the worst call

I've ever had to make.



   

                   

Air strike approved.



   

                   

Red Thunder to tower.

Request clearance.



   

                   

With the amount of firepower

they're gonna drop in there...



   

                   

- Tower this is Strike Leader.

Prepared to go.

- it'll be over in a few seconds.



   

                   

Flight time to drop point:    minutes.



   

                   

Excuse me, General, sir,

with all due respect to you,

but what the fuck is going on?



   

                   

- You changed the coordinates,

didn't you, General?

- That's affirmative, Captain.



   

                   

So, now they think we're

gutless, the Feds? They think

we won't actually do it.



   

                   

They're gonna come at us with everything

they've got. Air and sea.



   

                   

- They're gonna bomb our ass

back to the Stone Age.

- They don't know we missed on purpose.



   

                   

Great. We're not gutless,

we're incompetent. That right?



   

                   

I don't think I like your tone, Captain.

We planned for this contingency.



   

                   

Load the V.X. into the choppers,

take four hostages and evacuate.



   

                   

The consequences of our actions

I'll face alone.



   

                   

Excuse me, General,

but what about the fucking money?



   

                   

There is no fucking money.

Mission's over.



   

                   

Bullshit it's over.



   

                   

You're talking to a General, soldier.

Maintain discipline.



   

                   

I'm not a soldier, Major.



   

                   

The day we took hostages we became

mercenaries. And mercenaries get paid!



   

                   

I want my fucking money!



   

                   

This mission was based

on the threat of force.



   

                   

I'm not about to kill      

innocent people. Do you think

I'm out of my fucking mind?



   

                   

We bluffed. They called it.

The mission's over.



   

                   

Whoever said anything

about bluffing, General?



   

                   

Stand down, Captain.



   

                   

Stand down, Captain!



   

                   

Major, I'm ordering you to take

these men to the choppers and evacuate.



   

                   

- That's a simple order, Major!

- It's not so simple, Frank.



   

                   

Sergeant Crisp...



   

                   

secure the General.



   

                   

I'm relieving you

of your command, sir.



   

                   

Sergeant!



   

                   

- I'll have that sidearm, sir.

- You mean this sidearm?



   

                   

Major Baxter, you're either

with us or against us.



   

                   

It has been the greatest honor

of my life to serve with you, General.



   

                   

But like he said...



   

                   

it's over.



   

                   

Let's get him.



   

                   

Mason!



   

                   

- My God, what have I done?

- Where's the last rocket?

Where's the last rocket?



   

                   

- Where's the last rocket?

- Lower lighthouse.



   

                   

- Lower lighthouse.

- Go!



   

                   

Darrow, go to the lighthouse.

I'll take care of this fucker!



   

                   

One, two, three! Eat that!



   

                   

Did it.



   

                   

Come here. Come here,

you little chicken shit!



   

                   

You shoot me, I drop this.

We're both dead.



   

                   

Well, come on. Come on.

Don't be scared. I won't hurt ya.



   

                   

- Come on.

- Do you know how this shit works?



   

                   

You know how this shit works?



   

                   

Come on. Come on.



   

                   

I don't need the gun.

I'll put it down.



   

                   

Come on. Let's play.

Come on. Come on.



   

                   

Listen, I think we got

started off on the wrong foot.

Stan Goodspeed, FBl. Uh--



   

                   

Let's talk music. Do you like

the Elton John song, "Rocket Man"?



   

                   

I don't like soft-ass shit.



   

                   

Oh, you-- Oh, oh. Oh.



   

                   

Well, I only bring it up

because, uh, it's you.



   

                   

You're the Rocket Man.



   

                   

No!



   

                   

- How do you like how that shit works?

- Second rocket's away!



   

                   

It splashed into the bay, sir.

No detonation.



   

                   

Shit!



   

                   

Darrow!



   

                   

Open up!



   

                   

Come on.



   

                   

Open up!



   

                   

Hey, you mother!



   

                   

Oh, I'm gonna get you now, baby.



   

                   

Okay.



   

                   

I got ya. I got you, baby.



   

                   

Come on.



   

                   

Fucker!



   

                   

Red Thunder Strike Leader.



   

                   

Time on target: seven minutes.



   

                   

English prick.

I tell you my old man was lrish?



   

                   

Maintain air speed     knots.



   

                   

Fuck!



   

                   

It's me and you, pal.



   

                   

I want that fucking chip!



   

                   

I love pressure.



   

                   

I know you're in here,

and I know you can hear me.



   

                   

Now, pay the piper

and come out like a man.



   

                   

Increase speed

to     knots.



   

                   

You motherfucker! Die!



   

                   

I'm gonna choke my million bucks

out of you. You're gonna die.



   

                   

Eat that, you fuck!



   

                   

All right, team, inbound.

Time on target:    seconds.



   

                   

Come to course heading

    degrees.



   

                   

When he neutralizes the threat...



   

                   

we launch green flares

and we wait for the cavalry.



   

                   

- Let's tighten up that formation.

- May God have mercy on your souls.



   

                   

Please don't let this happen. There has

to be something you can do. Please.



   

                   

Let's drop to the deck.

One hundred feet below radar.



   

                   

Target acquired.

Rolling in.



   

                   

This is Red Thunder.

Master armed. Master armed.



   

                   

Time on target:    seconds.



   

                   

T.O.T.: ten seconds.



   

                   

Stay tight, gentlemen.



   

                   

I got green smoke.

I got green smoke!



   

                   

This is C.Q. One, C.Q. One!

Green smoke! We have green smoke! Over.



   

                   

- Eh, gimme that! Gimme that! Abort!

- Abort!



   

                   

- Flight leader, abort, abort, abort!

- Jesus Chri--



   

                   

I already dropped them!



   

                   

- Oh, goddamn it!

- Oh, my God!



   

                   

Get out of my way. Let me through,

please. Let me through!



   

                   

The cells did not get hit. The bombs

hit on the back of the island.



   

                   

I'm fed up saving your ass.

I'm amazed you ever got past puberty.



   

                   

I suppose all this will make

a great bedtime story to tell your kid.



   

                   

You're insane, Mason.

The kid'll have nightmares.

Spend all my money on shrinks.



   

                   

Goodspeed, come in.



   

                   

Goodspeed, Goodspeed,

do you read me? Come in!



   

                   

- Scanning all radio frequencies.

- Goodspeed, do you read me? Come in!



   

                   

Goodspeed, do you read me?

Come in!



   

                   

Goodspeed, do you read me?

Come in!



   

                   

This is Goodspeed.



   

                   

- Are the hostages alive?

- Every one of 'em.



   

                   

Goodspeed, it's Womack.



   

                   

What about Mason?



   

                   

- He's dead, sir.

- How? When?



   

                   

Just come and get me.



   

                   

Womack tore up your pardon, John.



   

                   

But, of course.

I knew he would.



   

                   

The S.D.U.s and the scuba gear

should still be where we came ashore.



   

                   

If you can get to the

Pan Pacific Hotel, there's clothes

in my closet, $    in the Bible.



   

                   

Room   .



   

                   

Well, it's been a long time

since I've said thank you to anybody.



   

                   

But thank you.



   

                   

Well, Stanley, uh, this is when

we go our separate ways, huh?



   

                   

But, uh, I'm sure you know

the etymology of your name "Goodspeed."



   

                   

Yeah, Godspeed: to wish someone

a prosperous journey. Why?



   

                   

Well, if you fancy a journey...



   

                   

I recommend Fort Walton, Kansas.



   

                   

I was thinking of Maui.



   

                   

No.



   

                   

Forget Maui.



   

                   

"St. Michael's Church,

Fort Walton, Kansas.



   

                   

"Front pew, right leg.



   

                   

Hollow."



   

                   

Is this what I think it is?



   

                   

Mason?



   

                   

-Congratulations, Dr. Goodspeed.

You did it.

-Thank you, sir.



   

                   

You know, for a while there,

I didn't think you were gonna make it.



   

                   

Well done, son.



   

                   

So, where's Mason?



   

                   

Vaporized. Blown out to sea.



   

                   

Blown out to sea, huh?



   

                   

Yeah.



   

                   

Poor bastard.



   

                   

Goodspeed, where's Mason? Where's his

body? I wanna see that son of a bitch!



   

                   

Vaporized, sir.

Excuse me, gentlemen.



   

                   

What? Vaporized?

A body can vaporize?



   

                   

Oh, yeah!

Absolutely, sir.



   

                   

St. Michael's Church,

front pew, right leg.



   

                   

Front pew, right leg.



   

                   

Vandals! Vandals!



   

                   

Oh, yes, baby, come on!



   

                   

- Stop! Vandals! Stop!

- I'm sorry!



   

                   

- Come on, baby!

- I've got it! Okay, let's go!



   

                   

- Stop! Stop!

- Sorry!



   

                   

Stop! Hey, hey, you!



   

                   

Vandals! Vandals!



   

                   

Honey, uh, you wanna know

who really killed J.F.K.?







 

  

  

 
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