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talk...
because you worked
for me a long time.
Like I said,
close down everything and get out...
or one morning you
are gonna wake up dead.
Luigi, I got employees, obligations...
There's plenty for both of us.
There's no "both of us."
There's just me.
- You got two days.
- And then what? Back to work for you?
You don't work around here
anymore for me...
or anybody.
[Man]
Auggie, let's move one out.
- [Clicking]
- [Man] You got it.
Get down! Move it!
[Groans]
Fucking Lamanski! Who the hell
does that son of a bitch think he is?
- He thinks he can take me outjust like that?
- Come on.!
That bastard's crazy!
He's a fucking amateur!
He learned nothing from me!
- I'm still okay, right?
- Yeah.
Just a waste
of fucking bullets.
Tony was a good kid.
Make sure you get
a good replacement for him.
You son of a bitch!
[Siren Wailing]
- Hey, you got the wrong car, pal.
- Shut up.
Hey, you know
who it belongs to?
Yeah, a guy who is probably gonna be dead
before it's out of warranty.
[Indistinct Radio Chatter]
- What are you doing here?
- Waiting for you. Drive.
- What do you want?
- Take off all your jewelry.
- Do you know who bought all this stuff?
- Martin Lamanski.
He has good taste in jewelry,
but you've a rotten taste in men.
Come on.
Gonna mess up your hair.
Attagirl. Keep going.
[Chauffeur] Fuckir shit!
You took my lunch, you son of a bitch!
[Doorman]
Good evening, sir.
- [Bell Dings]
- Down.
- There is no down.
- Hey, I'm not a cop.
I'm a player.
- A martini on me.
- Get you a drink?
- Oh, bartender.
- Yes, sir, a Manattan.
Yeah, another one.
What do you need?
Couple of minutes
with Mr. Rocca.
- Not possible.
- Tell him I'm the pain in Lamanski's ass.
Wait here.
- You're working for Morgan and Company, right?
- Richard's supposed to meet us.
Ladies and gentlemen,
place your bets.
Cards?
- Losing improves your character.
- Winning improves your wardrobe.
Again, place your bets,
ladies and gentlemen.
- Cards?
- [Whispers, Indistinct]
- Go on in.
- [Buzzing]
What's your name?
Joseph P. Brenner...
Joey.
And you're the pain
in Lamanski's ass, huh?
Wasted one of his joints
and took down a couple of his bag men.
And this stuff
comes from his girlfriend.
What'd you bother
with that for?
Intimidation.
Let him know that nothing is safe.
What are you
trying to prove?
Joey, this is Max Keller.
Max takes care of things...
all kinds of things.
- Trying to prove that maybe you can use me.
- For what?
To take care of things...
all kinds of things.
That job's filled.
I'm sure a smart man like Mr. Rocca
is always looking to upgrade.
- I'm the best there is.
- Max...
if you're the best there is,
the wheel would've never been invented.
- How'd you know I was looking for somebody?
- I didn't.
I thought
I might get lucky.
Where're you from?
The last few years?
Miami.
- Your references?
- I'm in the computer.
I'm sure you can find a couple of cops
that can punch it up for you.
What makes you think I'd be happy
to see Lamanski's ass kicked?
You see, in Miami, we can tell everything
by the flow of the blow.
This Lamanski has been making
bigger buys every week.
Now, I know he has been
biting into someone's action.
Go see the cashier.
She'll give you a thousand dollars
in chips. Enjoy yourself.
In case you forget,
I'll be checking back with you.
I don't believe
a fucking word he said.
Girl Scouts build character...
and it's a lot cheaper.
You pester me,
I'll have you tossed out.
You have that kind
of clout around here?
- They know me.
- I envy them.
- Place your bets.
- I'm sure nobody will mind
if you go home before you're broke.
Don't trouble yourself over my money.
I always get more.
Getting it somewhere else
might change your luck.
[Indistinct Chatter]
Where the hell
do you think he's
Без компромиссов Без компромиссов

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