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screening your calls?
JACK: Yeah, let me switch this off.
WOMAN: Hi, Jack. It's Liz. I'm worried
about Harry, okay? Please call.
In the oven! It's not here!
MAN 3:
Jack, there's trouble. Call me.
Jacques, it's me again.
You shit! I'm sick of this machine!
Forget it!
Go, go! Let's go, let's go!
Shut up!
Sit back, relax. The meter is off.
Okay, let's see.
"Harry Carlson, Archer Lincoln,
Peter Caen, Mark Van Meter."
I'm supposed to call these guys?
Oh, shit.
First up, Peter Caen.
553-31 82.
WOMAN: Peter Caen residence.
-Hello, is Peter Caen in?
No, this is his service.
May I take a message?
Yes, my name is Terry Doolittle.
He can reach me at 555--
-555, yes?
-7532. Thank you.
Fucking cats.
-Is this Mr. Van Meter?
My name is Terry Doolittle.
I have a message...
-...from Jumping Jack Flash.
-I can meet in 20 minutes.
Is it possible to do this in the morning?
I've had the most amazing night.
I'm leaving for Brussels
on a 3 a.m. flight.
-I think we should meet tonight.
-Okay. Where?
This is great. This is great.
I mean, I'm down here 1:30
in the morning, on the docks!
I should just pin a $ 100 bill
to my ass and scream:
"Victim here! Victim here!"
Don't complain. Shut up, okay?
VAN METER: A wise idea.
-You're right.
Oh, shit.
I apologize, Miss Doolittle. Procedure.
But you understand, of course.
-M-- Mr. Van Meter?
-Van Meter.
-Yeah, yeah.
-Very nice of you to meet me here.
-Thanks, thanks.
-You know the business.
You scared me!
Jesus, man, do the world a favor!
Get yourself an office
with a desk and a lamp!
Let's walk.
-Okay, who do you work for?
-First National Bank.
-I don't mean your cover, your boss.
-James Page. Anal. Polyester king.
So Page is Jack's contact?
He's the schmuck I work for at the bank.
I work in the money transfer room, man.
I work on a computer.
You mean you're a civilian?
You don't know anything about this?
I don't know dick about this!
Except some guy calling himself Jumping
Jack Flash taps into my computer!
Tells me to go to his house
and get a frying pan...
...call Van Halen, Van Morrison,
I don't know. Van Meter!
-Right, but you got a message.
-Yes, I got a message.
And I took it over to the British
Consulate. I talked to Mr. Talbot.
-This guy looked at me like I was crazy!
-What was the message?
"Dog's barking. Can't fly without
umbrella. " It's silly, I know.
I pray to God he's still alive.
No, no. I just talked to him tonight.
I mean....
-You're being melodramatic, aren't you?
-I'm not.
I'm sorry you got this involved.
I couldn't help it.
The guy was all alone.
Didn't wanna leave him.
How often does a girl like me...
...get involved with something like this?
It's on my computer.
I was thinking to myself--
You're moving awfully quickly.
Mr. Van Meter, are you trying to catch
a plane? Mr. Van Meter?
Mr. Van Meter?
Mr. Van Meter? Mr. Van Met--?
Ooh! Ooh!
Ooh, ooh, ooh!
TERRY: There's a dead man
floating in the river!
Tell me again.
If you'd stop picking your teeth,
you could hear what I say.
-Get the facts.
-What happened?
I told them not to call anyone.
They found your card in my pocket.
-You're wet.
-Really, Marty?
God, you're so perceptive!
-You know her?
-I work with her.
She nuts?
We found her screaming, soaking wet,
waving down cars near Battery Park.
-What happened?
-Fell in the river.
I told you, I didn't fall in the river,
I was thrown!
-By your pimp, your john?
-What is it with you people?
Every black woman has to have a pimp?
You think there's work
on the pier for hookers?
You think I'm giving blowjobs
to goldfish?
-Is she on some kind of
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