This way, careful.
Okay, start with the sword.
...which if thou please
to hide in this true breast...
and let the soul forth
that adoreth thee.
- Can you do it?
- It s not my first time.
Do you know the blind
can read with their fingers?
Nay, do not pause,
for I did kill King Henry.
It must be the keypad.
I dont like this.
One, two, three, four,
never shat myself before.
It s me.
Go, go.
Stop, stop.
Let s go.
- What s the matter with him?
- He had one too many. Let s go.
- One too many of what?
- The autopsy will show. Move it.
Very neat.
- He needed a narrow space.
- And he got it.
It s a massacre.
No fatalities. Two in hospital.
He also got hurt quite a bit.
How could he plan it so well?
Two years ago...
he worked here as a guard.
For a couple of months.
Still, he had only 1 chance out of 1O.
He made good use of it.
City cops were hear first.
They are monitoring all roads.
Moscows closed down.
They can hardly breathe now.
Has anybody seen this?
This banks CEO
is on V. Valiyev.
So what?
Your papers, please.
- What s in the back?
- Just as it says. Stage sets.
Open it.
Look, it s sealed.
How am I to know you are
not smuggling out criminals?
What are you talking about?
Damn it!
All clear, sir. You can go.
Yes, sir.
Can you hold it?
- Does it hurt?
- Not a bit.
Good. Give me your hand.
Last time, I went on a rampage,
it was 1O years ago.
Going to the sports camp.
A lot of hot crazy guys on a train.
We brawled all the time
for something to do.
Proud memories.
I could never understand
what makes people fight.
You still dont?
Now I might.
- Guess how much.
- 3O grand would be enough.
No. It was heavier than that.
- 1.8 million green presidents.
- You kidding?
Dead serious.
Damn. We went overboard.
A little history, if I may.
- Shoot.
- 2O years ago...
a certain boxer killed
a mobster in a fight.
He went to a labor camp for it.
To survive in a hostile camp...
he became its master.
Nobody knows the price he paid.
Rumor has it he lives now with a bad
spinal injury on force of will alone.
The day before amnesty, his wife
got killed. He went into business.
Made a lot of money and good name.
Then he found a young boxer...
and made him a champion.
Question:
How can he refuse to help
his own man?
- A question of morals?
- You notice it s off the record.
Two years, somebody brought me
a Siberian birch.
A small, stunted tree.
I planted it and tried
to make it grow strong.
I water it, I fertilize it.
And you know what?
Two years, no growth.
Still small and stunted.
Your birch has just robbed
one of your banks.
A street guys vendetta.
A blind street guy.
Blind. Whose girlfriend, weirdly,
was nearly murdered today.
Why are we playing games?
You want to know something,
ask a plain question.
I want to know the limits of evil.
- In your place, Id keep distance.
- You should know.
Exactly.
- Risky answer.
- Risky question.
I just want to solve a crime
and play around with some ideas.
Fine. Any more ideas?
I think the girls at the root of it.
And I think I lost some money.
The reasons are no concern of mine.
Can I help you in any practical way?
- Will you look for them?
- It s your job.
Do you think they are still here?
- I wouldnt even try to leave.
- Then find them.
- Moscows just a big village.
- You think on a large scale.
Call me if you think of anything.
Charismatic guy.
Youll want to thank him
for biting off your hand.
- I always had respect for him.
- Sport improves character.
No beast so fierce,
but knows some touch of pity.
But I know none,
and therefore I am no beast.
- What the hell?
- Richard III. Shakespeare.
Valiyevs implicated.
We stick to him.
He knows something.
Am I right or am I right?
He suspects, perhaps.
Suspicion breeds curiosity.
Cheerio, Colonel.
Vagit, for Gods sake,
dont let us kill a cop.
- Have another sandwich.
- Im full.
No arguing.
Okay, guys, 5 more minutes,