to kick your big ass.
I eat Green Berets
for breakfast,
and right now
I'm very hungry.
I can't believe
this macho bullshit.
[Woman screams]
[Gunshot]
Fuck you, asshole.
[Click]
Fuck you, asshole.
These guys eat
too much red meat!
Ah!
[Cook groaning]
Where is she?
Cook!
Let's go.
This must be Cook's car.
Let's search it.
WOMAN: I think
I found something.
Look at this.
JOHN: What is this?
Coastal is a fuel depot
that supplies planes.
To whom, the airlines?
Usually smaller,
private aircraft.
Are you sure?
This is where my
flight instructor gets his fuel.
There are a lot of warehouses
on Pecondo Street.
Harris must be keeping
a plane there.
Let's go.
We'll take Cook's car.
He won't be needing it.
WOMAN: This is it.
Patria Enterprises.
This is where I was
this afternoon.
Go this way
and wait for my signal.
[Men speaking Spanish]
JOHN: Cindy? Come on.
I've seen all the equipment,
but there's no airplane.
What about your daughter?
Harris and Bennett
aren't here.
She's wherever they are.
OK. Look at this.
JOHN: These coordinates are
somewhere near Santa Barbara.
Longitude...
There's something going on
at this island north of here.
This must be where
they've taken Jenny.
Look, here's a photo
of an amphibian airplane.
- Maybe they use it to fly there.
- Let's look at that invoice.
[Voices in corridor]
[Voices fade]
Type 4 fuel is amphibian.
250 gallons would fly this plane
to the island and back.
But it isn't here.
I've seen everything.
It was refueled at pump station
32, Pacific Pier.
That's San Pedro.
- How long to fly to the island?
- About two hours.
- Are we going to the plane?
- Not yet.
- Where are we going?
- Shopping.
Shopping?
Come on. Come on!
[Beep]
Wow!
- What's that?
- Rocket launcher.
Go!
Freeze! Don't even think
about it!
[Police radio]
- Stick him in the truck.
- Come on. Come on.
If you call
General Franklin Kirby,
he will explain everything.
Kirby, huh? I think
we ran him in last week.
[Officers laugh]
Hey.
Hooker.
Not bad.
- What's she doing?
- She's got something for us.
I bet she does.
Shit!
What the hell was that?!
Jesus Christ!
[Officers scream]
[Coughing]
- Where did you learn to do that?
- I read the instructions.
What time do you expect Matrix
to arrive in Val Verde?
Just over two hours.
Do you think he's
going to give us any problems?
He'll do exactly as
he's told...
as long as he thinks
he'll get his daughter back.
- It's all clear.
- Good. OK, go.
Ah!
CINDY: Did anybody ever tell you
you have a lot of hostility?
JOHN: Come on. Let's move.
CINDY: I hope I can fly
this plane.
Oh, shit!
CINDY: Oh!
- Oh, no!
- What's wrong?
This isn't a plane.
This is a canoe with wings.
- Then get in and start paddling.
- Oh!
[Men yelling in Spanish]
[Machine-gun fire]
JOHN: Start the engine! Hurry!
CINDY: OK, OK.
- This plane's older than I am!
- Come on!
There's no L.E.D. read-out!
I've only trained on a Cessna.
- Hurry up!
- I'm trying!
[Gunfire continues]
Shit!
CINDY: Oh!
JOHN: Come on, piece of shit!
Fly or die!
Works every time.
All right.
Here we go.
- Watch out for the boat!
- We're not going to make it! Ah!
- Yes, we are.
- Aah!
Oh.
We did it. We did it.
Wow!
Well done.
Thank you.
- Matrix?
- Call the federal building.
Have them monitor every police,
aviation, and marine channel.
- What are you expecting?
- World War III.
Repeat: this is Whiskey X-ray
448 for General Kirby.
Urgent you respond.
MAN ON RADIO: Attention
unidentified aircraft.
This is the Coast Guard
cutter Marauder.
You're flying over
the San Magill gunnery range.
This is a highly
restricted area.
Change course or you will be
forced to land. Acknowledge.
Urgent. Repeat, urgent.
You must contact
General Franklin Kirby.
First change course or you risk
being shot down. Acknowledge.
They shoot the shit
out of this area all the time.
Flights out of LAX
avoid it like the