strike.
That a bribe, Mr Scalese?
It's a prediction.
No. I wouldn't try to bribe Eddie Cusack.
They tell me you're incorruptible,
untarnished.
I hear they call you
"stainless steel" on the street.
Me, I think you're a pain in the ass.
I'm looking for one of your nephews.
- Tony Luna.
- Goodbye, Mr Cusack.
There's a shitstorm coming, old man.
You can stop it.
Goodbye, Mr Cusack.
- Nobody talks, right?
- That's right, Sergeant.
Just like the cops.
Just like the Comachos.
Nobody talks.
B Omertа.
B (car horn)
I'm gonna find Tony Luna.
I'm gonna nail his ass, and anyone else
connected to him. You got that?
Why, you punk! Nobody threatens me.
It's not a threat, Mr Scalese.
It's a prediction.
(man) Roger, Homicide.
At the Lincoln Park Conservatory.
The victim is male Caucasian.
Multiple knife wounds.
The coroner's on the scene.
Request for laboratory backup.
Tony Luna's bagman.
They call that a Colombian necktie.
The manager of Tony's restaurant
was hanging from a meat hook.
Someone tried to carve
a canoe out of him.
Tony's used-car lot on Ashland
is burning as we speak.
Head salesman is fried zucchini.
Oh, Jesus. It's startin'.
Let's go.
- Good morning, Mrs Luna.
- Good morning.
Don't the eggplants look wonderful?
They're all over the place. In the house
and in the street. Looks like a war zone.
- How many victims, 1021?
- Five so far.
Four adult females, one adult male.
This is Cusack. Was there a girl?
Late teens, brownish hair?
Negative. We got four adult females pretty
chewed up. The youngest looks about 40.
What kind of people are these guys?
What's it about? I'm not going.
I don't have to go.
Your mother got killed.
Take it easy. Just put your jacket on.
Let's get out of here.
Stick with me.
Run...
Stay here.
- Cut the chica.
- Angel!
Let her go.
Take out your weapons. Left hand.
Up against the wall. Move it!
Shit!
You heard me, Angel.
Diana, come here.
Back!
Angelo, llйvatela. Vete, ї eh?
Angel, let her go!
Eddie!
Come on!
Wait.
Angel.
One more step... I'll cut her head off!
Give it up!
Get your ass up.
Shit!
No!
Is it true?
Yeah.
Keep your goddamn pants on.
Eddie, what the hell's goin' on?
Come on in.
Fred Pirelli... Diana Luna.
Hiya, kid.
She won't go into protective custody
and I couldn't leave her out there alone.
I hate putting you on the spot like this.
I spent 30 years on the spot.
Can you put her up
until I find her old man?
Whatever you need.
Brennan, I heard you're gonna retire
when you sober up.
In that case, I'll never retire.
Dorato, you only gotta buy one boot now.
You're gettin' off cheap.
I'm sick about it.
These boots were handmade in Italy.
$17.50 they cost me.
That was with the police discount.
Hey, Eddie.
Yeah, it's me.
Yeah...
Why don't you come by and tip a few?
Come on. Have a few beers with me.
It'll do you good.
Do I know it's late? I know it's late.
Eddie... I gotta talk to you.
Yeah. At Mike's.
All right, great. Thanks, pal.
What the fuck are you doin'?
Would you try and relax... Flash?
This is gonna be a slide, man.
Easy in, easy out.
- Piece of cake, man. Nothing to it.
- German fuckin' chocolate cake.
- You sure you checked it out, man?
- Trust me.
- Man, you know the drill.
- I go to the back.
- You go to the bar. You order a drink.
- Right.
- What you gonna order?
- What's it matter?
- You got to know what you gonna order!
- You're making me nervous.
- Relax, will you? Have a toothpick.
- Fuck that. Let's go get some money.
Hey, Nick! You oughta crash, babe.
You had a heck of a day.
- How you doing?
- Nicky, how are you?
Hurry up.
- It's a piece of art.
- It's a piece of shit. Hurry up.
You're talking to a ballerina.
What's happenin'?
How you doing?
Give me a Black Russian
and a Courvoisier.
Straight up.
Where's the dancing girls?
Shaving their legs?
All right!
Get your hands up, motherfuckers!
Which of you two guys
is the brains of the outfit?