Collateral

MAX: ...he's two floors below you.

ANNIE: In my office?

MAX: Where are you, what floor?

ANNIE: Seventh, files section. What should I do?

MAX: He doesn't know you're up there! Just stay right where you are! Call the police!

ANNIE: Max, I'm scared. Are you sure?

MAX: Yes! Stay put, goddamn it! Don't move from that spot...

ANNIE: ...okay, Max, I believe you...I'll get out of the building...

MAX: No, no, wait...

ANNIE: Did you say Dmitri? How do you know about my case? I don't understand...

MAX: It doesn't matter! Just get out of the goddamn building...

MAX: Annie...it's Max.

ANNIE: Max...

MAX: Max, the cab driver!

ANNIE: Max? Oh... ...it's kind of a strange time to be calling...

MAX: Listen to me! Just listen, okay? There's a man, Vincent, he's coming to kill you!

ANNIE: He's...what? Say again? We're in cell hell...

MAX: Kill you! He's coming to kill you!

ANNIE: If this is a joke, it's not funny.

MAX: Dmitri hired him! He's already killed all your witnesses, now he's coming after you! He was stalking you when I dropped you off. I don't know what happened, but he diverted and got into my cab, instead.

ANNIE: Thanks for everything, Max. Wow...

MAX: Sure thing.

ANNIE: No, no way, I couldn't take that...

MAX: Yes, you could. I think you need it more than I do. It'll help. I promise.

MAX: You never answered my question. You like what you do?

ANNIE: Most of the time.

MAX: But not now?

ANNIE: Like you, I'm good at it. But at this exact moment in time...like I gotta sumo wrestler on my shoulders until tomorrow morning.

MAX: You need a vacation.

ANNIE: Just had one.

MAX: Not in a cab... I mean a disconnection...get your head straight...you know, get it together...

ANNIE: When was the last time you took one?

MAX: Soon. But I take little ones all the time. Comoros Islands in the Indian Ocean.

ANNIE: How often you go?

MAX: Dozen times a day.

ANNIE: Not quite. He did defense. I'm a prosecutor...

MAX: Big case?

ANNIE: Yeah.

MAX: You like being a lawyer?

ANNIE: You psychic?

MAX: Sure. I'm starting an 800 hotline. Caught part of your phone call. And even if I hadn't, there's the dark pinstripe, Armani, elegant, not too hip, which rules out advertising, plus a top-of-the-line briefcase that you live out of, looks like Bottega...

ANNIE: Bottega.

MAX: ...Bottega. Guy gets in my cab wearing a catcher's mask, I think he's a ballplayer. You? Definitely Clarence Darrow.

ANNIE: You're an anomaly in today's world, Max. You're good at what you do, so you must take pride in it...?

MAX: This? Temporary. To pay the bills and save. I got plans...

ANNIE: Like what?

MAX: Travel...and things.

MAX: You like Bach?

ANNIE: I used to play this piece back in high school.

MAX: Let me guess. Clarinet?

ANNIE: Violin. I never had the lungs for wind instruments.

MAX: Could'a fooled me, the way you were hollering into that cell phone.

ANNIE: Different instrument altogether. You know, if you'd only listened to me, we'd be bogged down in traffic right now, and you could have made yourself an extra five bucks.

MAX: Keep it. Go wild. Have a party.

ANNIE: Why'd you do that? Don't tell me you're a gentleman, Max. I thought chivalry was dead as a necessary consequence of gender politics...

MAX: It's no big deal.

ANNIE: No? How many cabbies get you into an argument to save you money?

MAX: There were two of us. I had the other guy killed. Don't need the competition...

ANNIE: Go ahead, say it.

MAX: No. I got lucky with the lights.

ANNIE: No. You were right, I was wrong... ...Max.

MAX: But Bowery's fine, if that's what you want.

ANNIE: We taking bets? What if you're wrong?

MAX: The ride is free.

ANNIE: You got a deal.

MAX: I'll take Sixth. It's faster.

ANNIE: What?

MAX: Sixth is faster.

ANNIE: Sixth is a parking lot north of 23rd this time of day.

MAX: The Bowery, you gotta deal with runoff from two bridges.

ANNIE: Sixth, you got delivery trucks blocking traffic at Herald Square. Look, I make this trip all the time.

MAX: First Friday of the month? Linens. Roll right off the trucks. They're in and out in twenty minutes... ...which means they left fifteen minutes ago. Traffic will be smooth.

MAX: Hi ya' doin'? Where to?

ANNIE: Park Avenue and East 2nd. Take Centre to Canal, up the Bowery, Cooper and Third, left on 41st, come around on Park.

COP #1: You dizzy? You want to sit down?

MAX: I'm...fine. Fine.

COP #1: You sure? You look pretty shaky...

MAX: Come on, it's been a long, shitty day. How about a break? I'll call a tow truck myself, I swear. I won't budge from this spot.

COP #1: Save me the grief. Step out of the car, sir, and open the trunk.

COP #1: A deer?

MAX: Comin' over Coldwater. Goddamn deer jumps out in front of me. You believe that?

COP #1: You still carrying passengers?

MAX: I was heading back to my garage. It's on the way.

COP #1: This vehicle's not safe to drive. We're gonna have to impound it. Get you towed. Step away from the vehicle and pop the trunk. I'm sorry, sir, you'll have to find another cab.

COP #1: This your current address?

MAX: Yes.

DANIEL: Lay it on me.

VINCENT: It's simple. What was your pal Louis' first musical instrument?

DANIEL: I know the answer. I know all there is to know about Louis.

VINCENT: Then let's have it.

DANIEL: One more thing. If by some chance I get this wrong...tell Dmitri I'm sorry.

VINCENT: Of course.

DANIEL: What kind of question?

VINCENT: Jazz question. What other kind is there? You get it right, we roll with it. You disappear. Tonight. You don't go home, you don't pack a bag, you just leave town...and nobody, I mean nobody, ever hears from you or sees you again.

DANIEL: How do I know you'll keep your word?

VINCENT: I never lie. Ask Max. Max, have I lied yet?

DANIEL: And here I was thinking you were such a nice guy.

VINCENT: I am a nice guy, Daniel. With a job to do. You know how it is.

DANIEL: You know Dmitri?

VINCENT: 'Fraid so.

VINCENT: Remember what you played?

DANIEL: Most vividly. "St. Louis Blues," "Potato Head Blues," "Sleepy Time Down South..." ...then Pops laid some "Cornet Chop Suey" on me, and left me in the dust like a whipped dog.

VINCENT: The crowd had to dig it.

DANIEL: The crowd was most kind. I was born in 1945, but my life began the night of July 22, 1964. That was the moment of my conception. Right here in this very room.

VINCENT: No.

DANIEL: Oh, my, yes.

VINCENT: Get outta here! You and Louis?

DANIEL: Fella owned this place back then, Dix Dwyer, he let slip to Louis that I played. So Pops, he just waves me right up. My heart about stopped. But I got up there all the same, and we played for nearly twenty minutes.

VINCENT: Unbelievable... ...you hearing this? Unbelievable.

DANIEL: ...I was just a young cat back then, about nineteen, bussin' tables in this very place. Didn't pay but shit, but that wasn't the point. Being around the music, that was the thing. And I was. Take this one night...July 22, 1964...who walks in? Mr. Louis Armstrong.

VINCENT: You're kidding me.

DANIEL: Right through those doors. The man himself.

VINCENT: Jesus...

DANIEL: He'd come over from Queens to do the Ed Sullivan show. After, he decides to come on up to Harlem and hang with the common folk. That's how he was, you see. Never forgot where he came from. Money and fame an' all that? Meant nothin', long as he could blow that horn. So before you it, he's up on that stage, doin' his thing.

VINCENT: Was it great? Better than great, it had to be...

DANIEL: Like Winton Marsalis says, it was pure, spiritual essence. Louis was playing. God was smiling.

VINCENT: You heard Armstrong play live. I've never been this jealous. You get to talk to him?

DANIEL: Did better'n that.

MAX: As a token of my appreciation for your understanding in this matter, I'd like to offer you a discount for my services tonight. Twenty five percent.

DMITRI: Twenty five?

MAX: Hell, make it fifty. Same goes for any business we have in the future.

DMITRI: Very generous.

MAX: By the way. Daniel said he was sorry.

DMITRI: Vincent. Do not cross me.

MAX: Wouldn't dream of it.

MAX: You think I wanted to come here tonight? You think I'm that stupid? Sometimes shit happens, you gotta roll with it.

DMITRI: Tell me. Has Black Peter already crossed off a few bad children?

MAX: The fat man on Cherry Street. The other fat man, Mr. Bulldozer. The trumpet player. That leaves two.

DMITRI: Can you finish on schedule?

MAX: In fifteen years, I have never left a customer unsatisfied.

MAX: I picked up a tail.

DMITRI: Federal?

MAX: You tell me. I had to toss the list in the river. I was protecting your sorry, long-winded ass. So why don't you show a little courtesy?

DMITRI: What?

MAX: I think... ...I think you should get this gun out of my fucking face.

DMITRI: What? What did you say?

MAX: I said. Get the gun. Out. Of my fucking face. Before I wrap it in a blintz and feed it to you.

DMITRI: Tell me Vincent. Tell me what you think.

MAX: I think...

DMITRI: Tell me, Vincent. Do you believe in Santa Claus?

MAX: Can't say that I do.

DMITRI: Neither do I. But my children, they're still young. Do you know who they like even more than jolly old Saint Nicholas? His helper, Black Peter. An old Russian fairy tale tells of how Santa got so busy looking after all the good kids, he had to hire a helper to punish all the bad kids. That was Black Peter's job. He was given the list of all the bad children, and he would visit them in their homes late at night. And if he caught them not saying their prayers, he would leave a bundle of wooden switches outside their door. That was a warning. If they continued to misbehave, he would swoop down and take the children away. And they would never be seen again.

DMITRI: I see. That was an important list, wouldn't you say? The people on that list are being subpoenaed tomorrow by a federal judge. And you "lost" it?

MAX: I'm sorry.

DMITRI: Sorry?

HELLER: What are you gonna do?

PEDROSA: Take him down. Save Richard Yip, our witness...

PEDROSA: Lemme tell you something. Vincent and a few other guys like him are fucking ghosts. Nobody even know what he looked like until now...

HELLER: I don't know...

HELLER: ...got off the phone with his dispatcher. What an asshole. Cabbie's name is Max Rilke, been driving that cab for ten years...

PEDROSA: So?

HELLER: ...so, his description of Max the cabdriver matches the guy who walked out of Villa Rodeo. That guy? That guy is a cabbie. And you're telling me this cabbie walks into a phone booth and emerges as a meat eater, assassin with heavy trigger time? What's he do, squeeze 'em in between fares?

PEDROSA: No. Your cabbie is floating down a storm drain or stuffed in the trunk of a cab.

PEDROSA: Advance team, two men, stick to that goddamn cab, stay in radio contact, the rest of us follow in the van. Nobody moves until the entire team's in place...

HELLER: Can you fax me his picture? His license or something? What do you mean you don't have that there? Anybody else in the cab?

PEDROSA: ...goddamn it, you telling me this motherfucker's whacked three of our witnesses tonight...

HELLER: ...Petrov and Cicerno for sure...

HELLER: Something going on?

PEDROSA: Pretty quiet down there. A cab just pulled up, aside from that...

HELLER: What if they're wrong?

MULDOON: Not our call, Phil.

HELLER: ...if they're wrong?!

MULDOON: This isn't our goddamn game!

MULDOON: Captain Walt Muldoon, NYPD.

HELLER: Detective Sergeant Phil Heller.

HELLER: ...yeah, I'm still at Bellevue. The John Doe didn't pan out, but you'll never guess who's lying up in the meat locker.

MULDOON: Elvis?

HELLER: Joey Cicerno. Dear friend and associate of my missing snitch, Ivan Petrov. Both of whom were in bed with Dmitri.

MULDOON: Jesus. Two in one night?

HELLER: Something big's going down, and I'm betting the Feds don't know about it. You gotta get us in there.

MULDOON: Pick me up in five minutes.

HELLER: Remember that thing a few years back? That thing with the cab?

MULDOON: What thing?

HELLER: Cabbie drove around all night. Three people got killed.

MULDOON: Oh, right. The guy flipped out or something? Killed some people, then put a gun to his own head?

HELLER: They found him dead in his own cab down by the Port Authority.

MULDOON: So? It was a random thing.

HELLER: I never bought that.

MULDOON: Oh?

HELLER: Cabbie had no criminal record, no history of mental illness. Suddenly, he just wigs out and pops three people, then himself? Plus the victims weren't random solid citizens. They were all lowlives. Wiseguys. I've always wondered if there was someone else in the cab.

HELLER: There was a car here, you can see where the glass came down all around it. Ivan flew out the window and went bam.

MULDOON: He could'a been depressed. It still doesn't tell me homicide.

MULDOON: ...this snitch of yours, what's his name, Ivan?

HELLER: Ivan Petrov. Supposed to meet me for dinner, never shows up. I come here, find this.

MULDOON: You guys been holding hands?

HELLER: Months now. He's been feeding me information on Dmitri.

MULDOON: Dmitri Gusunov? What the fuck, why? Forget about Dimitri, Feds are all over him. They're a heartbeat away from taking him down. Word's gone out, they don't want us anywhere near him...

HELLER: Oh, we working for the Feds now? If my snitch flew out a window, he's got Dmitri's handprints on his ass. That makes it homicide, that makes it ours.

MULDOON: What homicide? Phil. Where's a body? Look. All we got is glass...

VINCENT: I'm in town for a short time.

IDA: Try?

VINCENT: Of course!

VINCENT: Quite an achievement...

IDA: What's your name?

VINCENT: Vincent...

VINCENT: I'm sure you're very proud of Max.

IDA: Of course I'm proud. You know he started with nothing? Look at him today. Playing concerts.

VINCENT: Client? I like to think of myself as more of a friend. A mentor.

IDA: Max never had many friends. So much with the piano. Always keeping to himself, it's unhealthy...

VINCENT: I was with Max when he got the call.

IDA: And you came all the way down here to see me?

VINCENT: It's nothing.

IDA: Tell my son. You have to hold a gun to his head to get him to come see me.

VINCENT: Tell me about it.

VINCENT: Happy to meet you, Mrs. Rilke.

IDA: Oh, call me Ida. To what do we owe the pleasure?

IDA: Why didn't you tell me we had company? And what's your name?

VINCENT: No harm done, ma'am.

MAX: I came to see you, you look fine. We gotta go.

IDA: Vincent. It was nice to meet you. Visit again?

MAX: I'm...in...the...room, here. Don't talk about me like I'm not in the room.

IDA: What's he sayin'?

MAX: I'm standing right here.

IDA: Yesss, you are. He's artistic.

IDA: You paid for my flowers? They're beautiful. Max, you gonna introduce us?

MAX: Mom, Vincent. Vincent, my mother, Ida Rilke.

MAX: Hi, Ma.

IDA: I've been calling and calling.

MAX: I got caught up at work.

IDA: You couldn't pick up a phone? I'm lying here, wondering if something horrible happened...

MAX: I brought you flowers.

IDA: What am I gonna do with flowers?

MAX: You're gonna cheer up.

IDA: By worrying about you spending money on foolish things? So I can watch them wilt?

MAX: He paid for 'em.

MAX: ...oh God, don't shoot me...

KID #1: ...show me the wallet, man, get your ass up, up...

MAX: You're kidding me.

KID #1: I'll fuck you up, you don't hand it over.

MAX: My hands are taped to the fucking steering wheel!

MAX: Oh. Oh, thank God, hey! Hey, guys, hey, help me out here!

KID #1: Yo, whassup?

MAX: I got my, my hands taped to the steering wheel here, there's this guy, he taped me in the car, he's back there somewhere.

VINCENT: You hassling my driver again?

LENNY: Who is this?

VINCENT: Same fare you talked to last time. The U.S. Attorney...

LENNY: What are you guys, taking an all-night tour?

VINCENT: We're gay lovers, what's it to you?

LENNY: Nothin'! Aside from Max's mother driving me crazy, I'm dancin' on a rainbow! Get him on the line, please.

VINCENT: Hang on. Carefully...

LENNY: Max? Maaax. Pick up, dipshit.

VINCENT: Jesus, what is with this guy?

LENNY: Maaaaaax!

VINCENT: Vincent Farrell, Assistant U.S. Attorney. A passenger in this taxicab, and I'm reporting you to the DMV...

LENNY: Let's not get excited, sir.

VINCENT: How am I supposed to not get excited, listening to you trying to extort your employee, you sarcastic prick?

LENNY: I was just tryin' to...to...

VINCENT: Tell it to Max. Tell him he's an asshole.

VINCENT: He's not paying you one cent!

LENNY: Who the hell is this?

LENNY: I know you're out there! Answer the goddamn call!

VINCENT: What happens if you don't?

MAX: Yeah?

LENNY: Where you been the last two hours? Your mother's been calling every ten minutes whining about how you didn't show up.

MAX: Yeah? So?

LENNY: So? Aside from I hate talking to cops, they tell me you crashed the shit out of it.

MAX: It got crashed! I didn't...

LENNY: I give a shit whose fault it was, you're payin'!

MAX: Uh, yeah? Lenny? It's me.

LENNY: I just got off the phone with the cops. They called to check you brought the cab in...

MAX: He'll keep calling.

LENNY: Max! Dammit! Answer!

MAN: ...why is everything always about you...

WOMAN: ...everything is not about me, don't make me the villain here. That asshole was out of line, and you goddamn well know it...

MAN: ...I'm sorry, I don't see it that way...

WOMAN: ...oh, bullshit! He was intruding on my space, he was demeaning me personally, he was patronizing...

MAN: ...what do you want me to do, punch him out? I have to work with him...

WOMAN: ...well, last I checked, you were sleeping with me, so unless you wanna start fucking the guy soon, I'd suggest an attitude shift...

VINCENT: Max?

MAX: Let her go.

VINCENT: Well. That was brilliant.

MAX: Was your seatbelt fastened, honey?

VINCENT: Slow the hell down!

MAX: What are you gonna do, pull the trigger? Kill us? Go ahead, man! Shoot...my ass.

VINCENT: Slow down!

MAX: Vincent?

VINCENT: You're going too fast.

MAX: But you know what? Nothing matters, anyway. We are insignificant out here in the big nowhere, say the badass sociopath in my backseat. Right? Yeah. That's one thing I've got to thank you for, bro. And I never saw it that way...

MAX: 'Cause I never got it straightened up; made the push, made the moves...

VINCENT: Slow down.

MAX: I should have done that. Fixed it and more. Get out from under what I been under...

VINCENT: Get with it. Get over it. ...millions of galaxies of hundreds of millions of stars and a speck on one in a blink...that's us. Lost in space. The universe doesn't care. The cop, you, me? Who notices?

MAX: What happened to you?

VINCENT: As in...?

MAX: Man, if someone had a gun to your head and said: "You gotta tell me what's goin' on with that person over there or I'll kill you"...they'd have to kill you... 'Cause you don't have a clue for...or about...anyone... To be like that, I don't think you, you have any of that for your own life... Do you believe you're entitled or at least expect to draw breath in the a.m.? Open your eyes in the morning? I don't think you do...I don't think so... I think you are way low...like in your estimation. In your estimation of yourself. So how'd you get that way...?

VINCENT: ...all the cabbies in LA, I pull Max, the man with X-ray vision...

MAX: Answer the question.

VINCENT: Look in the mirror. ...piss-ant paper towels...a bottle of 409...saving up for goin' to the Comoros. How much you got saved?

MAX: None of your business.

VINCENT: ...pie in the sky? "Someday my dream'll come..." But one night you'll wake up and realize suddenly you're old. It hasn't happened. It never will. Life just flipped on you. Tomorrow became yesterday. Then you'll bullshit yourself it was never gonna happen, anyway, and push it back in memory...and anesthetize yourself in a Barcalounger with daytime TV for the rest of your life... Don't talk to me about murder. You're do-in' yourself...in this yellow prison with steel-belted radials. Clocking in and out everyday...

VINCENT: Good. Blood, urine and death get to you? Try deep breathing. Or remember we all die anyway...

MAX: You had to kill Heller?!

VINCENT: Who's Heller?

MAX: That cop! Why'd you have to do that? You couldn't wound him? The guy had a family, maybe, parents, kids who gotta grow up without a dad, he was probably a good guy; and he believed me...

VINCENT: I shoulda saved him 'cause he believed you?

MAX: No, not just that.

VINCENT: Yeah, that.

MAX: Yeah, so, what's wrong with that?

VINCENT: It's what I do for a living.

MAX: Some living.

VINCENT: Head towards Union Station.

MAX: What's at Union Station?

VINCENT: How are you at math? I was hired for five hits. I did four.

MAX: One more.

VINCENT: There you go...!

MAX: Whyn't you kill me and find another cab.

VINCENT: You're too good. We're in this together. Fates intertwined. Cosmic coincidence and all that crap...

MAX: You're full of shit.

VINCENT: I'm full of shit? You're a monument of bullshit. You even bullshitted yourself all I am, is taking out the garbage. Bad guys killing bad guys...

MAX: That's what you said...

VINCENT: And you believe me...?

MAX: What'd they do?

VINCENT: How do I know? But, they all got that "witnesses for the prosecution" look to me. Probably some major federal indictment against somebody who majorly does not want to get indicted... I dunno.

MAX: That's the reason?

VINCENT: That's the "why." That's the why? There is no reason. No good reason; no bad reason. To live or to die.

MAX: Then what are you?

VINCENT: ...indifferent.

VINCENT: Would you have called her?

MAX: Who?

VINCENT: Your lady friend. The one who gave you her business card. Think she was just being polite?

MAX: I don't know.

VINCENT: What holds you back, Max? Tell me. Why does life scare you so much?

MAX: I only owe you a ride, Vincent.

VINCENT: It's not what you owe me. Time is so fleeting. One day it's gone. You make it out of this alive, Max, you really should call her. That's what I think.

VINCENT: Washington and Holt. Dance club called "Fever." Know it?

MAX: Tribeca, near the waterfront, northeast corner. Twelve minutes.

VINCENT: You do impress me, Max. That you do.

VINCENT: Damn, Max. I'm impressed. Really. I would have bet good money you wouldn't walk out of there.

MAX: Makes two of us.

MAX: How long have you been a hit man?

VINCENT: Why?

MAX: In case he asks.

VINCENT: Fifteen years, although I prefer the term "assassin."

MAX: You get benefits?

VINCENT: No.

MAX: Paid sick leave?

VINCENT: You tell me to start a union, I'm blowing your head off. Quit stalling and get out of the cab.

MAX: Vincent. Don't make me do this. Don't make me get people killed.

VINCENT: We've both run out of options. If it helps, take comfort in knowing you never had a choice.

VINCENT: Our friends in Little Russia. Go in and ask for a man named Dmitri.

MAX: Dmitri?

VINCENT: The man who hired me for this contract.

MAX: I don't get it.

VINCENT: You're gonna be me. You're gonna go in, and you're gonna get the info on the remaining two hits.

MAX: Why me? Why don't you do it?

VINCENT: No client has ever seen my face, and I intend to keep it that way. Besides, if he decides to put a bullet in my head, I don't wanna be there for it.

MAX: He's gonna shoot me?

VINCENT: When he finds out you tossed his list? I would.

MAX: No. No way. I can't do this.

VINCENT: Max. You threw my briefcase in the river. You've got balls bigger than Toledo.

MAX: I...I wasn't thinking. I just did it.

VINCENT: That's jazz, my friend. You said it yourself. So don't tell me you don't know how to play between the notes.

VINCENT: I'll just hold onto it for you. In case they check.

MAX: In case who checks?

VINCENT: Gimme your wallet.

MAX: Why?

VINCENT: Limos, huh?

MAX: Don't start.

VINCENT: Hey, I'm not the one who's been lying to my mother.

MAX: She hears what she wants to hear, okay?

VINCENT: Maybe so. Maybe she hears what you tell her.

MAX: Fuck! Nothing's ever goddamn good enough! It's always been that way.

VINCENT: It's cause they don't like their lives, so they project their patterns of negative behavior onto you... I had a father like that.

MAX: Yeah? What happened?

VINCENT: He hated everything I did. Hated me. Got drunk and beat the shit out of me, daily...

MAX: What happened?

VINCENT: I killed him. When I was 15. He was my first. Nah, wishful thinking. Liver cancer.

MAX: I'm sorry.

VINCENT: Don't be. I never saw him after I was 15. Went into the military early. So all this talk about "my job's temporary, I got big plans," it's all bullshit.

MAX: It's not bullshit.

VINCENT: What do you call it? Ten years doesn't sound temporary to me. I should have known it was bullshit, you're too good at what you do.

MAX: I've always been good. Ever since I started. Gave up piano. Easy money. I'm putting a stake together, get something started. Go figure it all out...

VINCENT: Yeah? Like what? Limos?

MAX: I told you I don't like to talk about it.

VINCENT: Well, this big stake's got to be big by now. When you leaving?

MAX: See, I've got bills. My mother's been dying of the same disease since I was a kid.

VINCENT: What, no insurance?

MAX: Doesn't cover everything.

VINCENT: Good excuse. How many others you got?

VINCENT: What the fuck was that?

MAX: Jazz.

VINCENT: You take one more step, I'll kill her.

MAX: You'd do her a favor.

MAX: Mom, Vincent's not interested.

VINCENT: Oh, I'm captivated.

VINCENT: Show up for what?

MAX: She's in the hospital.

VINCENT: You go every night?

MAX: What difference does it make?

VINCENT: Guy with a routine goes and breaks it? Provokes attention. That's bad. And that's not good...

MAX: There's no way I'm taking you to see my mother!

VINCENT: Show up for what?

MAX: Tell her I can't see her tonight, okay?

VINCENT: Pull your head out of your ass. Get your thinking straight. You wanna die?

MAX: I'm collateral anyway, so just fucking do it and stop making me a part of this!

VINCENT: Teach him how to talk back, suddenly he can't stop. I'm not playing.

MAX: Sure? Like you didn't play him? String him along? If he had gotten the answer right, would you have let him go?

VINCENT: Max? What are you doing?

MAX: Leave me alone.

VINCENT: Don't even think you're walking away from me.

MAX: I don't wanna know you!

VINCENT: Let's go.

MAX: No.

VINCENT: What you mean, no?

MAX: I'm done. Find another cab.

MAX: Let him go, Vincent.

VINCENT: You mind? I'm working here.

MAX: You're the one who keeps talking about going with the flow. You like the man, you like the way he plays. How about a little jazz, huh?

VINCENT: Jazz? That's funny, coming from you. Okay, some jazz for the jazz man. How's this? I'll ask a question.

VINCENT: ...see now, this has got a little post- war flavor, a little Miles thing happening. Awesome. What do you think?

MAX: I never learned jazz.

VINCENT: God, are you always this prosaic? You don't learn jazz, it's not something you're taught. It's like breathing, like life. Like us, tonight, taking what comes and going with the flow.

MAX: That what we're doing? Flowing?

VINCENT: Damn right. Instinct, man. If you think too much, it doesn't work. Just listen...

MAX: I'm not catching a melody.

VINCENT: That's the point. You play between the notes, you dance around the structure, you improvise. Some people know where they're going to be ten years from now. Same job, same neighbors, same shit over and over. That's not living. That's dying a little every day. Not me, pal. It's not knowing what's around the corner that makes like worth living. That's jazz. That guy up there, he knows what I'm talking about. Hell, it's the same thing he's talking about, if you just open your ears. You can hear it in the conversation he's having with that trumpet...

VINCENT: But, hey, some good news. This last one put me way ahead of schedule. We've actually got some time to kill. Jazz? You like jazz?

MAX: I'm...what? Sorry?

VINCENT: Jazz. Music.

MAX: I listen to classical.

VINCENT: Friend of mine told me about this great place in South Central. Says it's like the birthplace of West Coast bebop. Bird. Dexter Gordon. Thelonious Monk. Chet Baker. I'll buy you a drink. Expand your horizons...

MAX: Vincent?

VINCENT: Yes, Max?

MAX: Am I collateral?

VINCENT: Another collateral.

MAX: What?

VINCENT: Collateral damage.

MAX: I don't understand...

VINCENT: People in the wrong place at the wrong time. Draws attention, which is something you avoid in my line of work. And for you? You attract attention, you're gonna get people killed who don't need to be.

VINCENT: I had no idea these cabs came equipped with emergency strobes. Where's the button? Under the dash?

MAX: Yeah.

MAX: Lenny? You're an asshole.

VINCENT: Tell him next time he pulls any shit, you're gonna kick his fat ass.

MAX: Next time you pull any shit, I'm gonna kick your fat ass.

VINCENT: Don't take that. Tell him to shut the fuck up.

MAX: I can't do that. He's the Man. He'll fire my ass.

VINCENT: So what?

MAX: I need the job.

VINCENT: No you don't.

VINCENT: It was an accident. You're not liable. Tell him.

MAX: It was an accident. I'm not liable.

VINCENT: Who's that?

MAX: Lenny, my dispatcher.

VINCENT: Hands on the wheel. Ten and two o'clock, like they taught you in driver's ed.

MAX: Why?

VINCENT: Because I have a gun and I say so.

VINCENT: That one's probably married. Think of his kids. His wife's pregnant...

MAX: I'll deal with it. I will, I will...

MAX: I'll talk to them, I'll talk to them.

VINCENT: Good luck. You think they got families?

MAX: Please. Don't do anything.

VINCENT: Then don't let me get cornered, Max. You don't have the trunk space.

MAX: I can't believe this.

VINCENT: Believe it.

VINCENT: Get rid of 'em.

MAX: How?

VINCENT: You're a cabby. Like talk yourself out of a ticket?

MAX: I don't know any Rwandans.

VINCENT: You don't know the guy in the trunk, either. If it makes you feel better, he was a villain involved in a Continuing Criminal Enterprise.

MAX: Oh, it's okay, then. 'Cause you're just taking out the garbage...

VINCENT: Yeah, like that... But, anyway, nobody gets out of this alive. Even if we quit smoking and cut out red meat. Everybody dies.

VINCENT: Chopin prelude. Stodgy, but nice. Here's the deal. I didn't want you involved in this. Still breathing? But now that you are, we have to make the best of it, Max. Improvise. Life is that way. Adapt to your environment. Survive. Darwin. "Shit happens." The I Ching. Whatever. Roll with it.

MAX: I Ching? You threw a man out a window!

VINCENT: I didn't throw him, he fell.

MAX: What'd he do to you?

VINCENT: Nothing. I only met him the one time.

MAX: How can you kill him like that?

VINCENT: I should only kill people after I get to know 'em? Six billion people on the planet, you're getting bent out of shape 'cause of one fat guy?

MAX: Who was he?

VINCENT: What do you care? Ever hear of Rwanda?

MAX: Rwanda-Burundi. Central Africa.

VINCENT: Tens of thousands killed before sundown. Nobody's killed that fast since Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Did you bat an eye, Max? Join Amnesty International? No. I off one Angeleno, you throw a hissy fit...

MAX: Music.

VINCENT: Play music.

VINCENT: Are you breathing?

MAX: Yes.

VINCENT: What else calms you down? Candy? Cigarettes? Sex? Breathe.

MAX: Oh. Oh, no. You're kidding. We...

VINCENT: I told you we had other stops to make tonight.

MAX: You said you were visiting friends!

VINCENT: They're somebody's friends... You drive a cab. I kill people. We both do our jobs right, you might survive the night and come out four hundred bucks ahead.

MAX: Listen. I'm not trying to piss you off, see? Okay? I can't drive you around so you can murder folks.

VINCENT: Tonight it is.

MAX: You don't understand. I mean it. Really. I'm not up for this...

VINCENT: 58th and Central. You know it?

MAX: South Central.

VINCENT: How long, you figure?

VINCENT: What are you doing?

MAX: It's a mess.

VINCENT: So?

VINCENT: You better?

MAX: I think so.

VINCENT: Try some deep breathing.

MAX: What?

VINCENT: Adrenaline's wearing off. You get shaky after. It's not uncommon. Deep breathing helps.

VINCENT: What about that?

MAX: I tried it.

VINCENT: How about the thingy next to it?

MAX: The thingy next to it has nothing to do with the starter motor...

VINCENT: I'm making you nervous. I'm the one with a schedule.

MAX: Okay, try it now.

VINCENT: You listening to me?

MAX: Yes! I'm trying, I swear!

VINCENT: Try harder. I'm gonna count to three. One...

VINCENT: Two...

MAX: It's not me, it's the engine! A fat guy fell on it from six floors up!

VINCENT: Max.

MAX: It's not me.

VINCENT: Max. May we leave the scene of the crime now, please.

MAX: I'm trying...

MAX: Uh, look...why don't you just take the car...

VINCENT: ...and you promise you'll never tell anybody about this, right? Get in the fucking car.

VINCENT: What?

MAX: His hand moved! His goddamn hand twitched!

VINCENT: It's a spasm! Jesus, Max, don't be such a girl...

VINCENT: Got it?

MAX: Yeah.

VINCENT: I'm gonna roll him off the hood. Always lift with your legs...

MAX: I don't think I can do this.

VINCENT: It's just a dead guy. On three, ready? Uno. Dos. Three.

VINCENT: Good. Help me out here.

MAX: With what?

VINCENT: You were going to drive me around. Drop me at LAX. Never be the wiser. But El Gordo missed the elevator. So we go to Plan B. Pop the trunk.

MAX: The trunk?

VINCENT: Did I stutter? The trunk. Unless you want him riding up front with you...but given hygiene and his sphincters have let go...

VINCENT: You cool, Max? Say "I'm cool."

MAX: You're cool.

VINCENT: No. You say you're cool.

MAX: I'm cool.

MAX: You - you killed him?

VINCENT: No-no, I-I shot him. The bullets and the fall killed him.

MAX: I think he's dead.

VINCENT: No shit. Since he has two .45s double- tapped through the sternum and fell six floors onto his head...

MAX: He fell on my cab! From up th-th-there.

VINCENT: You always stutter?

MAX: Yeah, yeah. Shit, man. Guy fell on my motherfucking cab.

VINCENT: We have a deal. What's your name?

MAX: Max.

VINCENT: Max? I'm Vincent.

VINCENT: Twenty-four minutes! Man, you're hot...

MAX: Yeah. Lucky with the lights.

VINCENT: Bullshit. You probably know the light schedules, too. Listen, I'm in town tonight on a closing. Five stops, one night. I gotta catch a six a.m. flight. I got five stops to make, see some friends, collect some signatures. Why don't you hang with me?

MAX: I'm not a hire car. It's against regs?

VINCENT: Regulations? These guys don't even give you sick leave. How much you pull down on a good night?

MAX: Two, two-fifty.

VINCENT: I'll make it an even five hundred. Plus an extra hundred if you get me to LAX on time.

VINCENT: You know, this is the cleanest cab I've ever been in. This your regular ride?

MAX: Yeah. I share it with the dayshift guy.

VINCENT: You prefer nights?

MAX: People are more relaxed. Less stress, less traffic, better tips.

VINCENT: You on some kind of work plan?

MAX: You mean like benefits?

VINCENT: Yeah. Retirement? Paid sick leave?

MAX: It's not that kind of job.

VINCENT: You should start a union.

MAX: Me, specifically?

VINCENT: Why not?

MAX: Last thing I need is a reason to keep hacking. This job's a fill-in.

VINCENT: Oh? How long you been doing this?

MAX: Twelve years. But I'm working on other stuff...

VINCENT: Like what?

MAX: I don't talk about it, you know... No offense.

VINCENT: None taken. There are talkers and doers. I like doers.

MAX: First time in New York?

VINCENT: Third, but I still can't tell uptown from downtown. Tell the truth, whenever I'm here, I can't wait to leave. Place gets to me. Too loud, too fast...too much. You like it here?

MAX: It's home.

VINCENT: You share it with over three million people every day. You know that's the population of New Zealand? What's Manhattan, thirteen miles long? That's a lot of misery crammed into thirteen miles. Read about this one guy. Gets on the subway and dies. Six hours he's riding around before anybody notices. Think about that. Here's this corpse doing laps around Manhattan courtesy of the New York transit system, people getting on and off, sitting next to him, and still nobody catches on. Three million. That's too damn many people.

MAX: I see your point.

VINCENT: Mind if I time you? What do I get if you're wrong? A free ride?

MAX: An apology.

VINCENT: How long you think this'll take?

MAX: Twenty-four minutes.

VINCENT: Twenty-four? Not twenty-five? Or twenty-three?

MAX: Two minutes to get on Broadway. They're doing some roadwork around the bridge. Eleven to get downtown. Four to the Lower East Side. Six to clear the roadwork. One minute margin for error. My math says twenty-four.

VINCENT: Uh, let's go to... Hello...?

MAX: Yeah, yeah, sorry...

VINCENT: Hello?

MAX: Oh. Sorry.