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is the maker's
serial number.
WOMAN: Interesting.
Not fish. Snake scale.
WOMAN: Try Abdul Ben Hassan.
He make this snake!
[Chaotic crowd noise,
rhythmic Egyptian music]
[Abdul mumbles in Egyptian dialect]
DECKARD: Abdul Hassan.
DECKARD: I'm a police officer.
I'd like to ask you a few questions.
DECKARD: Artificial snake license X/B71 ?
That's you?
This is your work? Who did you sell it to?
ABDUL: My work?
Not too many could afford such quality.
DECKARD: How many?
ABDUL: Very few.
DECKARD: How few? Look, my friend.
ABDUL: Taffey Lewis'.
Down in the Fourth Sector. Chinatown.
[Rowdy bar ambience,
Egyptian music plays]
DECKARD: Bartender.
DECKARD: Taffey Lewis?
DECKARD: I'd like to ask you
a few questions.
Do you ever buy any snakes
from the Egyptian, Taffey?
All the time, pal.
DECKARD: Did you ever see this girl?
Never seen her. Buzz off.
Your licenses in order, pal?
Hey, Louie. The man is dry.
Give him one on the house, okay? See ya.
[Crowd chatters]
[Phone beeps as dialed]
I've had people walk out on me before,
but not when...
...I was being so charming.
I'm in a bar, here now,
down in the Fourth Sector.
Taffey Lewis' on the line.
DECKARD: Why don't you come down here
and have a drink?
I don't think so, Mr. Deckard.
That's not my kind ofplace.
Go someplace else?
[Electronic disco music, crowd chatters,
ANNOUNCER: [German accent]
Ladies and gentlemen...
...Taffey Lewis presents
Miss Salome and the snake.
Watch her take the pleasure
from the serpent...
...that once corrupted Man!
DECKARD: [Nasal voice] Excuse me,
Miss Salome, can I talk to you?
I'm from the American Federation
of Variety Artists.
SALOME: Oh yeah?
DECKARD: I'm not here to make you join.
No, ma'am. That's not my department.
[Door shuts]
...I'm from the Confidential Committee
on Moral Abuses.
Committee of Moral Abuses?
There's been some reports
that the management...
...has been taking liberties
with the artists in this place.
I don't know nothin' about it.
Have you felt yourself to be
exploited in any way?
How do you mean, "exploited"?
DECKARD: Well, like to get this job.
I mean did you do,
or were you asked to do anything that's...
...lewd or unsavory, or...
...otherwise repulsive to your person?
[Chuckles] Are you for real?
DECKARD: I'd like to check your
dressing room, if I may.
SALOME: For what?
DECKARD: For holes.
SALOME: Holes?
You'd be surprised what a guy
would go through...
...to get a glimpse of a beautiful body.
SALOME: No, I wouldn't.
DECKARD: Well, little...
...dirty holes...
...they drill in the wall
so they can watch a lady undress.
[Female voice chanting, background]
DECKARD: Is this a real snake?
SALOME: Of course it's not real.
Do you think I'd be working in a place
like this if I could afford a real snake?
[Snake hisses]
If somebody tries to exploit me,
who do I go to about it?
SALOME: You're a dedicated man. Dry me.
[Deckard grunts]
[Deckard coughs and wheezes]
[Deckard gasps for air]
[Scattered voices, shouting, music playing]
[Car horn honks]
[Sirens blaring]
[Foghorn blows]
[Scattered conversations,
sirens echo, chanting]
[Voices repeat and echo over intercom]
[Echoing sirens and voices, background]
DECKARD: Get out of the way!
[Multiple gunshots]
[Glass shattering]
[Glass shattering]
[Synthesizer plays melodic rhythm]
[Glass shattering]
[Digital beeping]
INTERCOM: [Echoing] Move on. Move on.
WAITRESS: A minute.
Yeah, what do you want?
DECKARD: Tsin-Tao.
DECKARD: Is this enough?
[Old melody plays, background]
[Deckard sighs]
Christ, Deckard, you look almost as bad
as that skin-job you left on the sidewalk.
I'm going home.
You could learn from this guy, Gaff.
He's a goddamn one-man slaughterhouse,
that's what he
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