good Mai Tai for a twat bar,
but seriously overpriced.
Two million dollars for a round of drinks.
And the pussy ain't even that hot.
Jody, I'm doin' business here.
Jody! Come on, get the fuck out of here.
Two million dollars.
Suck a dick, you prick bastard.
You don't have shit on us.
What do you think of this?
Cops never found these at the scene.
Just two dead narcs and three dead Jamaicans.
Ballistics is gonna reveal the slugs
that killed my partners
didn't come from the Jamaicans.
So there were others involved.
As for myself... erm... I was never there.
Well...
dead guys tell no tales.
Yeah. Why don't you ask your pal here?
What the fuck you talkin' about?
You blew my partner Stevie's balls off
with a.38 snub nose.
A real distinctive piece.
Stainless. Polished up like a spic's hubcap.
Now, let me take a wild guess here.
I think you gave him the gun
to dump in the river.
Now I'm assuming that he never
got around to it because two hours ago...
his next-door neighbor
took a slug in the shoulder.
The shooter was the guy's 10-year-old stepson.
Who was over at Gazelle's house
two hours earlier.
What the fuck you tryin' to do here? Huh?
You tryin' to fuckin' play us?
You're wasting your time, and this is bullshit.
Bullshit? Bullshit, huh?
This punk, Anzor Yugorsky?
He describes the gun to me in vivid detail.
Makes mention it's a snub nose
with a serious shine to it.
- The fuck is this guy talkin' about?
- He's talkin' about a fuckin' shiny gun.
Big deal. There's a thousand on the street.
It ain't the piece.
Oh, yeah? What were you doing at the hospital
when they brought Yugorsky in? Huh?
Sniffing around. Emergency.
You know what I figure?
I figure you were there to pull a switch
on the slug they took out of him.
My wife asked me to go to the hospital.
She was concerned, in a neighborly way.
She wanted me...
All right, you know what? Enough bullshit.
I expect to find a bag...
in this locker at Down Neck Station by midnight.
If the bag is not there one minute after,
I'm taking you all down any fuckin' way I can.
Even if I have to manufacture the case.
And you know I will.
Cos I got the toughest mob in the world.
I'm the law.
Right, stay put. I'm gonna grab you a burger.
- I'm not hungry.
- You didn't finish dinner, I'll grab you something.
Stay here.
Dad?
Don't go in there. Let's just go home.
It's gonna be all right.
No, it's not.
- Hey, Frankie. How you doing?
- Hey. How are ya?
- It's good to see you.
- Sit, Joe.
- How you doin,' guys?
- Hi, Joey.
How you doing?
- You want some coffee, or somethin' to eat?
- Nah, I'm good.
But I got my boy waiting out in the car.
- I wanna get him a burger.
- Tony, take care of that.
Yeah, Tony, get him some fries
and a strawberry shake.
Don't scare him. He don't know you're coming.
So Joe.
I got off the phone with Ivan
about this thing with his nephew.
I told you, it's not the fuckin' piece.
Look, everybody knows the nephew
is a brain-fried reprobate.
Yeah, whatever. He's a tweaker piece of shit.
And he's cooking meth in his backyard.
It's just a matter of time
before he blows up the neighborhood.
We know this.
But it's a sensitive issue with me, Joe.
I'm in bed with Yugorsky on this gasoline deal.
Hey.
It's a good deal.
- I don't wanna rock the boat.
- Oh, fuck that.
Fuck those Russian cunts. Huh?
Pop, it's the fuckin' narc
that's got his dick in our ass.
Hey.
Calm down, Tommy.
You see, Joe, the tweaker's got it in his head
that maybe you were looking to knock him
out of the cooking business
and helped the boy out.
Made a piece available to him.
I would never use a kid to do something like that.
Never.
All right, all right, look.
I made a personal reassurance to Yugorsky
that I will have my entire crew in the street
out looking for that kid.
Now, in the interest of professional harmony...