Enemy of the State

"BRILL": 209 to anyone! I need some help here!

DEAN: Who are you calling?!

DEAN: Um...who's that?

"BRILL": Don't know. Did you check everywhere? Maybe it was hidden in something. Maybe there was someone else--

DEAN: Someone else?

"BRILL": Maybe you bumped into someone who took it and you didn't even know.

DEAN: I just gave him my card.

"BRILL": He didn't give you an address? He didn't give you a phone number?

DEAN: Nothing. Two nights later I was robbed. I'm pretty sure they were pros.

"BRILL": And you were the last one to talk to him.

DEAN: Yes.

"BRILL": What'd he say to you?

DEAN: Nothing.

"BRILL": What'd he give to you?

DEAN: Nothing.

"BRILL": Don't bullshit me, I can save your life.

DEAN: I'm telling you, I--

DEAN: I don't know anything about Zavitz.

"BRILL": You said he was behind an extortion scheme.

DEAN: They said he was behind an extortion scheme.

"BRILL": DePinto's dead.

DEAN: Oh Jesus.

"BRILL": They found him yesterday folded neatly in a car trunk. What about Zavitz?

"BRILL": What happened?

DEAN: It started with the information you gave me on DePinto. After we talked, he agreed to resign. Next, a phony detective asked me about Daniel Zavitz. Then an investigator questioned me about an extortion scheme they claimed Zavitz was behind. The FBI started looking into mob connections. A doctored picture in the paper. Overnight, I'm ruined. Wife. job, bank accounts, everything gone.

DEAN: Brill?

"BRILL": Brill's dead. He died of small pox when he was two and he was buried in a Kansas field. My name doesn't matter.

DEAN: It's actually DH-1 Digitech Pinpoint scanning with a frequency modulator.

ALBERT: I don't know what that means.

DEAN: Me neither, but the upshot is I've got color live-action footage of you and Ms Hawkins and it doesn't look good.

ALBERT: So...how much money do you want in exchange for not ruining my life?

DEAN: I don't want any money. And believe me, I have no interest in ruining your life. I'm not interested in this tape.

ALBERT: You're not.

ZAVITZ: No one. But I'm a little nervous.

ALFONSO: When can you get it here?

ZAVITZ: I'm doing a transfer now.

ALFONSO: Come straight here. Don't talk to anyone.

ZAVITZ: I'll come straight there.

ALFONSO: Be careful, Danny.

ALFONSO: You've got it on tape?

ZAVITZ: Clear as day.

ALFONSO: Who else have you told?

ALFONSO: Zavitz, what? You want your old job back?

ZAVITZ: Listen to me--

ALFONSO: Tired of chasing squirrels around the park?

ZAVITZ: Listen--

ALFONSO: Lemme ask you something. I put a bird feeder out in the yard, but the squirrels, they keep taking--

ZAVITZ: Turn on CNN.

ALFONSO: They keep taking the bird seed. I thought since you're the expert on--

ZAVITZ: Goddammit, shut the fuck up and turn on CNN!

ALFONSO: Alright, I made a joke about squirrels, don't get so--

ZAVITZ: Do it!

BLAKE: Why don't you just call Brill directly.

DEAN: I don't know who he is.

BLAKE: I'm told you had an affair with Rachel Banks four years ago.

DEAN: Told by whom?

BLAKE: Considering the enormous exposure to which you've subjected this firm, I'd think you'd do best to simply answer my questions.

DEAN: Really?

BLAKE: Yes.

DEAN: Well considering what a colossal douche bag you are, David, maybe I'd do best to simply kick your ass all over the capitol.

DEAN: What kind of a question is that?

BLAKE: A direct one.

DEAN: I have a professional relationship with Rachel Banks. She's the go- between for a private investigator I use.

BLAKE: Tell us about Rachel Banks.

DEAN: Rachel Banks?

BLAKE: It is?

DEAN: Except for the part about my setting up a company in Zurich and knowing anyone named Sam Vollotti and having any relationship whatsoever with the Gambino family.

BLAKE: We've also been informed that the Grand Jury is going to call for an investigation into your affairs.

DEAN: Why?

BLAKE: They want to hold you in Contempt for ethics violations.

BRILL: Feeling lucky?

DEAN: Not particularly, no.

DEAN: He came in four minutes ago.

BRILL: C'mon.

DEAN: What are you dialing?

BRILL: AmeriTech's data-base. There's Albert's D.C. office address and his phone's identity code. Now we just reprogram out phone with his ID code and you know what we've got?

BRILL: What do you know about locking cellular phone signals?

DEAN: I know my phone number and I know the number for SportsPhone. Beyond that--

BRILL: Shit.

DEAN: Pretty fast.

BRILL: We'll have to re-stock some basics.

DEAN: We're gonna lead Albert by the nose to one conclusion. And then when he's pissed as hell, we're gonna drop the tape in his lap. How fast can you teach me what I need to know?

BRILL: How fast can you learn?

BRILL: You wanna get caught spying on Albert?

DEAN: No, I want the NSA to get caught spying on Albert.

BRILL: What if we transmitted it over cellular?

DEAN: Listen--

BRILL: Nah, they'd shut down the pin number.

DEAN: What if--

BRILL: If they couldn't do that, they'd shut down the whole system, all the relays.

DEAN: What if--

BRILL: They've done it before. Takes maybe two minutes.

DEAN: What if--

BRILL: What if what?

DEAN: What if we just fucked with 'em?

BRILL: How?

DEAN: Same way they did with you and me. We take their biggest guy and turn him into one of us.

BRILL: Reynolds.

DEAN: No.

BRILL: Who?

DEAN: What if we hand deliver to their homes or office?

BRILL: The area's wired for surveillance, they'll be looking for those moves.

DEAN: Well how do I know what they're--

BRILL: I know. I know what they're looking for and I'm telling you.

BRILL: Listen to you, "directly". You're not gonna get near the News Department. And if you did, it'd never get on the air. Time-Life buried the Zapruder film for 15 years.

DEAN: What about newspapers and magazines?

BRILL: Same thing?

DEAN: So what do we do now?

BRILL: I was thinkin' about asking for my hundred and fifty grand and calling it quits.

DEAN: What if we do a mailing to Congressmen.

BRILL: It'd never get through. All packages are screened, x-rayed and then hand-searched for explosives. You didn't like my "give-me-my- money" idea?

BRILL: Drive.

DEAN: We're not gonna hurt you.

BRILL: Drive.

DEAN: Tell him we're not gonna hurt him.

BRILL: Drive or I'll blow your fuckin' head off.

DEAN: No he won't.

BRILL: Goddammit--

DEAN: We're honest people and we need your help. I'll give you two- hundred dollars if you--

BRILL: These guys are incredibly persistent.

DEAN: Tell me about it.

BRILL: We lost 'em.

DEAN: That wasn't so hard.

BRILL: Fuckin-A.

DEAN: Let's not do the tire thing anymore, okay?

BRILL: Yeah, I can see where that'd--

BRILL: Think we let out enough air?

DEAN: Oh my God...

DEAN: Gimme that.

BRILL: You sure?

DEAN: You're driving.

BRILL: Those are Feds.

DEAN: I didn't see a warrant. Did you see a warrant?

DEAN: What the fuck?!

BRILL: They shouldn't have come without calling first.

BRILL: Empty 'em 'till they're almost flat. And turn your head. There might be some debris flying your way.

DEAN: Why?

BRILL: Remember when Senator Hamersley died in an accident up near Shenandoah?

DEAN: Yeah.

BRILL: The NSA killed him.

DEAN: Jesus. Do you have proof?

BRILL: Well, actually, you have proof. Could you walk a little faster please.

DEAN: What's going on?

BRILL: They're here.

DEAN: Who?

BRILL: Them.

DEAN: Where?

BRILL: Here?

DEAN: Here?!

BRILL: In the warehouse. They're hiding in a duct on the third floor. When we go back inside, they're gonna kill us. When they notice that we're moving toward the car, they'll come running out of the building.

DEAN: 'Kay, well, could you walk faster, please.

BRILL: That is one ugly sunrise.

DEAN: It really is. Did you find anything?

BRILL: Yeah. Take a walk with me.

BRILL: What do you think?

DEAN: Looks like Detroit.

BRILL: Welcome to Santa's Workshop.

BRILL: I intercepted phone calls.

DEAN: How'd you get around the tap orders?

BRILL: They can tap anything as along as it's an airwave intercept. Cellulars and pagers your kid can do. Hard-line calls we'd pick off the relays as they were being fed into ground cables or fired up to the SATs. We'd suck in everything. All foreign, most domestic. Domestic was my group. Druggies, radicals, loud-mouths. Anyone we wanted.

DEAN: How'd you have the manpower to--

BRILL: Meade has 18 underground acres of computers. They scan every phonecall for target words like "bomb" or "President". We red-flag phone numbers or voice prints...whatever we wanted. When the computers found something, it was bounced to comparative analysis.

DEAN: Jesus.

BRILL: That was twenty years ago. With digital? They can suck a salt grain off a beach.

DEAN: Why'd you leave?

BRILL: It was '72. I figured we had enough problems without monitoring a Berkeley kid's class schedule. So I sold my story to Ramparts and split.

DEAN: They come after you?

BRILL: Well...there'd be too much disclosure to prosecute me. So they ruined my records and made sure I'd never hold a real job again.

BRILL: The NSA's been in bed with the entire tele-communications industry since the 40's. They've infected everything: Banks, computers, phones, mail, name it. The more technology we buy into, the easier it is keeping tabs on us. It's a brave new world. At least it better be.

DEAN: How do you know so much?

BRILL: None of your business.

DEAN: You used to work for 'em, didn't you?

BRILL: I was a traffic analyst.

DEAN: Sorry.

BRILL: You don't get it. They go through your phone records. They fuckin' monitor everyone you called in the last--

DEAN: I didn't use my name.

BRILL: Oh, I'll bet that threw 'em off the scent. I sure hope you covered the mouthpiece with a handkerchief and used a funny voice!

BRILL: Did you call anyone?

DEAN: What do you mean?

BRILL: I mean did you call anyone.

DEAN: Look, my wife is understandably--

BRILL: Jesus!

DEAN: I called my wife!

BRILL: What'd I tell you?

DEAN: I didn't use my name.

BRILL: What'd I tell you?

DEAN: I called from a payphone!

BRILL: What'd I tell you?

DEAN: You told me no calls.

BRILL: I told you no calls.

BRILL: I taped it off the 11 o'clock news.

DEAN: And you were worried about me. That's nice, I appreciate--

BRILL: I was worried about my hundred and twenty 'K'.

DEAN: We said a hundred.

BRILL: The price rises with the temperature and right now you're smokin'. But you're right, you should shop around and get the best price. I'll just let you out here.

DEAN: One-twenty.

BRILL: Get dressed. We're leaving.

DEAN: You could knock on the door, you know, and I'd open it.

BRILL: Move it.

DEAN: How many years have you been hiding from them? How many years have you been running? What'd they do to you?

BRILL: If you find something, chalk the Baltimore Sheraton mailbox and go to Temperanceville. It's South of Salisbury. And take this.

DEAN: What if I find out what they're after. You know these people, I don't.

BRILL: And you won't. Now move--

DEAN: I'll pay you.

BRILL: They froze your accounts. Get outa my way.

DEAN: Why don't they just identify themselves and tell me what they want?

BRILL: They're spooks.

DEAN: I don't know what that--

BRILL: Exposure. They can't have it. They wanna learn what you know and then deal with it.

DEAN: I don't know anything.

BRILL: No shit.

DEAN: What am I gonna do?! I mean, like, for the rest of my life?!

BRILL: Hey, if you live another week I'll be impressed.

DEAN: What if--

BRILL: Look, you gave me some work over the last year. We'll call it even.

DEAN: What is that?

BRILL: It's a SAT-tracker.

DEAN: I don't know what that means.

BRILL: Like a LowJack, but two generations ahead of what the police use. It pulses at 230 Giga-Hertz.

DEAN: I don't know what that means.

BRILL: 230 Giga-Hertz. They use that band for the Aquacade Spy-SAT uplinks.

DEAN: I don't know what that means.

BRILL: It means the NSA can read the time off your wristwatch.

DEAN: Why are they after me?

BRILL: If I knew, they'd be after me. Which they probably are right now. 'Bye.

DEAN: Wait. What do I do?

BRILL: Pal, you're cooked. It's over. What you did, who you were...that's done. I'd find a quiet job somewhere shoveling snow.

BRILL: You knew the deal. No contact.

DEAN: Who was that other guy?

BRILL: One of many people who would live a word with you.

DEAN: Who are they?

BRILL: You've heard of the National Security Agency?

DEAN: What do they have to do with this?

BRILL: That's who they are.

DEAN: The NSA?

BRILL: Yes.

DEAN: You're crazy.

BRILL: Okay.

DEAN: Wait.

BRILL: You drive a black BMW, license plate SRK1339?

DEAN: Yeah.

BRILL: I clipped this from your wheel well just before they towed your car away.

BRILL: Baudmore Consultants.

PATRICK: Is Jerry Delsano in?

BRILL: Who's calling?

PATRICK: It's Pat Cary. I work for Senator Sam Albert and I was given Jerry's name.

BRILL: Jerry's on vacation 'till Monday. I can give him the message when he gets back. That was Patrick and the last name--

PATRICK: The thing is...it really can't wait.

BRILL: My name's Neil. Maybe I can help you.

BRILL: I yanked this off your RV. It's a Global Positioning Tracker.

SENATOR ALBERT: Oh my God.

BRILL: Tracks your location to the inch and works directly with--you know...

SENATOR ALBERT: With what?

BRILL: With spy satellites. I don't like saying these things Senator...

SENATOR ALBERT: Neil, thank you for your help.

BRILL: Anytime.

BRILL: Well, sir, I'm afraid it's not as simple as that. Your average newspaper guy or Hard Copy lady or whatever, they can't buy this stuff.

SENATOR ALBERT: Well then who can?

BRILL: Ah, sir, you know, it's not for me to say.

SENATOR ALBERT: What do you mean? Who can buy this kind of equipment.

BRILL: The thing is, Senator, and I don't want to get in the middle of nothing, but--

SENATOR ALBERT: What are you saying?

BRILL: Most of this stuff's only available to law enforcement.

SENATOR ALBERT: Law enforcement?

BRILL: FBI, CIA, NSA, local cops.

SENATOR ALBERT: Are you sure about this?

SENATOR ALBERT: --Don't think it could've gone any better. Tell me, how's Deb? How're my grandchildren?

BRILL: A receiver tuned permanently to the Senator's phone.

DYLAN: Hey, Mr. D., what's happenin'?

DEAN: Dylan, I was just asking Eric if--

DYLAN: Oh, God, I knew it was stupid, I knew we'd get caught. But the Gameboy was just sitting there. Right on top of the bag. Yes. Yes. We took the GameBoy out of the bag, but with every intention of putting it back.

DEAN: You're a tough nut to crack, Dylan.

DYLAN: Is it okay?

DEAN: You got any money?

DYLAN: Hi, Mr. Dean.

DEAN: Hello. Hello, Maria.

SALES CLERK: I think she'll like this very much.

DEAN: Listen, Daniel, hang on one second.

SALES CLERK: For that matter, I think you will too.

DEAN: Could you give me just a moment to talk to a friend of mine here? Not about this, but...Daniel?

SALES CLERK: Do you see anything you like?

DEAN: I'm married.

SALES CLERK: That's fine.

DEAN: I'm married to my wife...of several years...and I'd like to buy...as a Christmas present...

SALES CLERK: You'd like to buy your wife some lingerie as a Christmas gift.

DEAN: Yes. I have her permission.

SALES CLERK: It's okay. I think it's a wonderful gift.

DEAN: Can you help me?

SALES CLERK: How 'bout Christian Dior?

DEAN: Is that good?

SALES CLERK: Very good.

DEAN: I don't know anything about this. Well, I mean, I know a little about--from a certain perspective. My point is, I don't want to do anything foolish.

SALES CLERK: It's a little late for that.

DEAN: I'll say.

SALES CLERK: What size?

DEAN: Pardon?

SALES CLERK: What size?

DEAN: Eight. Size eight.

SALES CLERK: I'll be right back.

DEAN: Thanks.

SALES CLERK: Remain calm.

DEAN: Okay.

DEAN: I know, but--

MEG: Wildlife footage, for God's sake. I don't see how he could've slipped you something that the FBI would be interested in.

DEAN: That's my point.

MEG: What's your point.

DEAN: Well, I need to find out as much about Daniel as possible.

MEG: Why?

DEAN: Because my life is being ruined.

MEG: Daniel's life is already ruined. Maybe if you guys stopped thinking about yourselves for a change and--

DEAN: I don't know what's goin' on with Zavitz, but that was way, way outa line. You understand?

MORELOS: Yes sir.

MORELOS: Did he give you anything?

DEAN: No.

MORELOS: Anything at all?

DEAN: No, sir.

MORELOS: Was he with anyone?

DEAN: Not that I could see.

MORELOS: Nobody gave you anything?

DEAN: No.

MORELOS: Why'd you go to Harrison's?

DEAN: To buy lingerie.

MORELOS: For your wife?

DEAN: Yes, for my wife, what the hell kinds of questions are these.

MORELOS: I thought maybe it might be for Rachel Banks.

MORELOS: I'm sorry. Detective Morelos.

DEAN: Hey, did you guys find my stuff?

MORELOS: Your stuff?

DEAN: The robbery.

MORELOS: No, sir, I'm not involved with that. I'm doing a quick follow-up on a bus accident took place a few nights ago. Your name keeps coming up.

DEAN: Oh...yeah, I didn't see the accident.

MORELOS: Witnesses said you were there, but I notice you didn't file a report.

DEAN: A report?

MORELOS: A police report.

DEAN: That's 'cause I wasn't there.

MORELOS: You weren't at Harrison's Department Store the night before--

DEAN: I was in the store, the accident was outside. It was a bus.

MORELOS: Someone said you spoke to Mr. Zavitz before he died. I thought you might know something.

DEAN: About what?

MORELOS: About the accident.

DEAN: I'm no expert, but I'm assuming that the impact of a moving bus against his body caused--

MORELOS: Mr. Zavitz was in trouble.

DEAN: What kind of trouble.

MORELOS: You tell me.

DEAN: I can't.

MORELOS: Are you invoking attorney/client privilege.

DEAN: I'm not his attorney.

MORELOS: Than why can't you tell me.

DEAN: Because I don't know.

MORELOS: I'm just trying to determine if Mr. Zavitz was involved in something more than a simple bus accident.

DEAN: Than why don't you talk to the bus driver?

MORELOS: Why so edgy, Mr. Dean?

DEAN: Somebody took my blender.

MORELOS: We'd appreciate your cooperation.

DEAN: I'm happy to help you all I can. But I didn't see the accident and I barely knew Daniel Zavitz. I've gotta go to work.

DEAN: Yes?

MORELOS: I didn't want to bother you during your racquetball game.

DEAN: Thanks. Who are you?

STACY: It's really over?

DEAN: Albert's gonna get me my job back.

STACY: I'm sorry about Rachel.

DEAN: Yeah. I wish you could've met...

STACY: Who?

DEAN: A friend of mine. I don't know his real name. He's dead now.

STACY: You did good.

STACY: Is it over?

DEAN: It's over.

STACY: They're saying you killed that policeman.

DEAN: That's gonna end tonight.

STACY: Are you sure you're safe?

DEAN: Yeah.

DEAN: ...who root through...uh...presents, and...

STACY: What is it?

DEAN: Oh Christ.

STACY: I'm sorry I didn't believe you.

DEAN: That's okay.

STACY: I opened the present you got me from Harrison's.

DEAN: You opened the thing?

STACY: The lingerie.

DEAN: That was for Christmas.

STACY: I was missing you.

DEAN: You're as bad as Eric. I've got an entire family of people who root through--

STACY: I told you they could do this. I told you they had this kind of capability and that with this anti- terrorism it would be just another--

DEAN: Stacy...Stacy...maybe now isn't the best time for the I-Told-You-So speech.

STACY: Does that hurt?

DEAN: Well...yeah.

STACY: Good.

DEAN: Stacy--

DEAN: Is Eric in school?

STACY: Yes.

DEAN: Has anyone been by? Police? FBI?

STACY: Just reporters.

DEAN: I wish you'd gone to your parents like I asked you.

STACY: This is my house. Nobody's kicking me out of my house. I picked those drapes.

DEAN: I don't think anybody wants the drapes, Stacy, I think the drapes are okay.

STACY: What happened to your head?

DEAN: I was in a car chase and a small explosion. Now listen to me: The NSA is behind this. They think that guy I told you about, Daniel Zavitz, they think Zavitz gave me a tape or computer chip of some kind that could be damaging to them. So they're doing all these things electronically. The bank records, the surveillance. They're the ones who broke into the house. Now I know there's no reason to believe me. But I love you. And I love our son. So just believe me anyway. Please.

DEAN: Stacy, don't hang up.

STACY: Do you know what I'm looking at Robert?

DEAN: Stacy--

STACY: I'm looking at a picture of you and Rachel taken yesterday.

DEAN: I know, but listen--

STACY: Was that doctored-up, too?

DEAN: No, I was with her yesterday. I want you to take Eric and go to our parents house. I want you to do it right now.

STACY: I went to the grocery store. My ATM and credit cards didn't work. I couldn't buy food.

DEAN: I know.

STACY: I went to the bank to see why. They said you emptied our accounts--

DEAN: It wasn't me.

STACY: This is science-fiction Robert! The manager showed me the transfer notice with your signature on it.

DEAN: Stacy, somebody's trying to kill me. Now goddamit--

STACY: My father's put me in touch with an attorney. He'll be--

STACY: The date stamp on the picture is last month. Is that where you and Rachel conduct business.

DEAN: It's not real... That's not me.

STACY: Oh, please--

DEAN: It's not a real picture, Stacy, it's been doctored-up.

STACY: I think you should leave now, Robert.

DEAN: Stacy--

STACY: Leave this house.

STACY: You swore!

DEAN: I have lunch with Rachel once a month. She's my connection to an investigator.

STACY: I told you I didn't want you seeing her.

DEAN: I know.

STACY: You had an affair with this woman, Robert, we went to a fucking counselor for a year.

DEAN: I see her for business.

STACY: You told me you weren't seeing her at all.

DEAN: I didn't want you to be upset. I shouldn't have lied. Stacy, there's nothing between me and Rachel Banks.

DEAN: Stacy?

STACY: How could you let me find out like this?

DEAN: Stacy, I found out like this. This is the first I'm hearing of--

STACY: Robert--

DEAN: It's not true.

STACY: "Sources revealed an FBI investigation into a possible money laundering scheme that may have sent millions of dollars--

DEAN: I've seen it.

STACY: "At the center of the investigation are well-known Washington-area attorneys Robert Dean and Rachel Banks."

DEAN: Yeah...look--

STACY: I don't understand why Jerry couldn't clear this up.

DEAN: Well, you know--

STACY: He's got his priorities?

DEAN: There's just, clearly, some administrative snafu. I'm sure this is the worst of it.

STACY: Bobby?

DEAN: Yeah.

STACY: How'd you get the information on DePinto?

DEAN: What do you mean?

STACY: Who did you work with to get the--

DEAN: A guy named Brill. Same guy as always.

STACY: Yeah, but you said you've never met him. How did you--

DEAN: Honey, I don't like to talk about this stuff in front of Eric.

STACY: Have you been working with Rachel?

DEAN: No.

STACY: Sorry.

DEAN: It's okay.

STACY: You're a lawyer. Don't you care what's going on around you?

DEAN: Something bad happened tonight.

STACY: What?

DEAN: I saw a man die.

STACY: What do you mean?

DEAN: In front of Harrison's, he got hit by a bus. I knew him. The firm did some pro bono work for his organization a few years back.

STACY: I'm sorry.

DEAN: The thing is, when I saw him, it seemed like he wanted to tell me... ...he was upset about something and he said... Doesn't matter now. I'm gonna wash up.

STACY: What'd you buy at Harrison's?

DEAN: A toaster. And no terrorist talk at dinner. You're spookin' the kids.

STACY: Bobby!

DEAN: Not a very good one, but--

STACY: So you tap everyone's phone? You use computers to probe financial records? New Search and Seizure laws?

DEAN: Just for the criminals.

STACY: We won't suspend the civil rights of the good people.

DEAN: Right.

STACY: You should take this seriously.

DEAN: I think you're taking it seriously enough for both of us.

DEAN: Hey.

STACY: This guy's a fat-assed Rotarian gasbag.

DEAN: Uh-oh.

STACY: Listen to him.

DESK CLERK: I'm sure we can locate it for you, sir.

DEAN: Don't count on it.

DEAN: My suitcase--

DESK CLERK: Sir?

DEAN: My suitcase is gone.

DESK CLERK: I'm sorry, sir, this card's been declined.

DEAN: It's a brand new card.

DESK CLERK: Maybe it's not connected yet.

DEAN: Here, you can use this.

DEPINTO: What can I do for you?

DEAN: Well, I was hoping you might stop by my office to swear out a criminal deposition against some of your friends and co-workers.

DEPINTO: Is this a fuckin' joke?

DEAN: I don't believe it is, no.

DEPINTO: Why the hell would I--

DEAN: I've got photographs of you at the Trenton Ramada looking very--

DEPINTO: That ain't me.

DEAN: It's not?

DEPINTO: You don't know who the fuck--

DEAN: That's not you having a whiskey sour with Carmine Morada.

DEPINTO: This is fucked. You don't know who's in that--

DEAN: You're right, Mr. DePinto, and maybe I jumped the gun.

DEPINTO: You're goddam right you jumped the gun.

DEAN: That's probably not you in the picture. I tell you what, I'll just run the thing by the Grand Jury, see if they can't--

DEPINTO: I want to talk to a goddam lawyer.

DEAN: Good news there, Mr. DePinto, you're talking to one.

SAL: And then what?

DEAN: I'll see if I can, you know, work things out.

DEAN: Actually, that's not true.

SAL: You didn't squeeze DePinto?

DEAN: No, I meant I'm Presbyterian.

SAL: Oh.

DEAN: My wife's Jewish. But that probably doesn't matter right now.

SAL: I'm sorry. I'm not sure I understand. You wanna fuckin' what?

DEAN: I'd like to speak to someone about what's happening to me.

DEAN: Any idea what he looks like?

RACHEL: My guess is male, somewhere in his 40's or 50's.

RACHEL: Fuck you. When you needed information, I got it. You didn't care how.

DEAN: I did care how.

RACHEL: This conversation's over.

DEAN: What're you gonna do, Rachel? You gonna sit in a bar in Baltimore? You want your job back? You want a life?

RACHEL: I don't have a life, Bobby. I'm in love with a married man.

DEAN: I'm sorry about that.

RACHEL: What makes you think it's you?

DEAN: It's not me?

RACHEL: You're a moron, you know that?

DEAN: Yeah.

RACHEL: I can't.

DEAN: You have to.

RACHEL: I've never met him?

DEAN: Goddammit, Rachel, you assured me--

DEAN: I know.

RACHEL: The IRS contacted me this morning. They say my lifestyle and receipts exceed my income.

DEAN: You being audited?

RACHEL: For the last four years.

DEAN: My firm'll represent you. Free of charge.

RACHEL: You don't work there anymore, Bobby.

DEAN: That's temporary.

RACHEL: Bullshit.

DEAN: Rachel--

RACHEL: We're screwed.

DEAN: I'm gonna fix it.

RACHEL: How?

DEAN: Tell me about Brill.

RACHEL: Good. You're just what I need right now.

DEAN: You got a minute?

RACHEL: It's really not a good idea for me to be seen with you.

DEAN: Who's doing this?

RACHEL: I gotta go.

DEAN: Will you hang on just a second.

RACHEL: I got a call from my firm this morning saying don't come in.

DEAN: Why?

RACHEL: There are reporters wanting to know about my relationship with you and how long I've worked for the mob. The mob, Bobby!

DEAN: All right, look--

DEAN: Ten thousand cash. I don't know if it's Brill's prices going up or your commission.

RACHEL: I take a straight 15 percent. Brill's fee varies with risk. Perhaps you'd be more comfortable using someone else.

DEAN: Other than Brill.

RACHEL: Other than me.

DEAN: Why would I--

RACHEL: Someone with whom you don't have quite so personal a--

DEAN: I like our history. And I like you. I'd probably like Brill if I ever got to--

RACHEL: He doesn't work that way.

DEAN: I just want to make sure I'm not breaking the law.

RACHEL: You're not.

DEAN: How can I be sure.

RACHEL: I wouldn't let you. Good luck with DePinto.

DEAN: Thank you.

RACHEL: Eat your fish.

DEAN: Mr. DePinto? My name's Robert Dean. I'm an attorney with Seth, Silverberg.

DEAN: "Soon". Or at least sooner than never.

RACHEL: It's how he works.

DEAN: Brill?

RACHEL: Yes.

DEAN: So you've said.

RACHEL: Here's what you asked for. Brill's note said it was everything you'd need to, shall we say, coax DePinto--

DEAN: When do I get to meet him?

RACHEL: DePinto?

DEAN: Brill.

RACHEL: Never.

DEAN: That wasn't the answer I was hoping for.

RACHEL: What answer were you--

RACHEL: How's the trout?

DEAN: It tastes like fish.

RACHEL: It is fish.

DEAN: I mean it tastes like every other fish I've ever had. Every fish tastes the same.

RACHEL: Do you like fish?

DEAN: Not that much.

DEAN: He didn't give me--

PRATT: --otherwise we may have to--

DEAN: Otherwise you may have to what?

PRATT: We'd rather not--

DEAN: Fuck you. You may have to--

DEAN: Yeah?

PRATT: We'd like to ask you some questions about Daniel Zavitz.

DEAN: Who are you people?

PRATT: I'm an investigator with Pro-Tech Security.

DEAN: I went through this with an investigator this morning. If I could--

PRATT: Mr. Zavitz was involved in an extortion scheme. We believe he passed you sensitive materials, possibly with your knowledge, and we need to--

DEAN: He didn't.

PRATT: We believe he did.

DEAN: You're wrong.

PRATT: We have good reason to believe that he passed you--

DEAN: If he passed me materials, I'd have them. I don't.

PRATT: We'd like to recover any materials Mr. Zavitz may have given you--

DEAN: He didn't give me--

PRATT: --otherwise we may have to--

DEAN: Otherwise you may have to what?

PRATT: We'd rather not--

DEAN: Fuck you. You may have to what?

DEAN: Hey!

MAN: Forget me, forget what I did for you. Don't ever mention my name or try to contact me again. Get it?

DEAN: I don't know you, I don't know your name, I don't know what the hell you did for me except hang up on my wife and slam me into a wall, but I'm getting pretty fuckin' sick of this! Get it?!

MAN: Seat 74.

DEAN: You're Brill.

MAN: Your shoe.

DEAN: My shoe?

MAN: Gimme the shoe.

DEAN: Jesus! What?! You want money?!

MAN: Shut the fuck up.

SILVERBERG: Gentlemen--

DEAN: This is bullshit. Someone's mixing up a bunch of half-truths to ruin me and to ruin my case.

SILVERBERG: Who would do that?

DEAN: Maybe Bellmoth. Maybe the unions. I don't know.

SILVERBERG: Well until we find, you're gonna have to take a leave of absence.

DEAN: You're firing me.

SILVERBERG: A leave of absence. Until we've sorted this all out.

DEAN: Put David on it. He seems anxious to clear my name.

SILVERBERG: Bobby--

DEAN: Fuck off.

SILVERBERG: What's his name?

DEAN: Brill.

SILVERBERG: Robert--

DEAN: Gimme a week and four guys from litigation and I'll have the Post pleading with us not to sue for libel.

SILVERBERG: They claim you helped create a shell company for Sam Vollotti in Zurich and that through your continuing relationship, the Gambino family's been able to exert influence and provide false witnesses to discredit our case.

DEAN: Oh, well, that's true.

DEAN: Listen--

SILVERBERG: I got a call this morning from a source I trust. The Post is running a lead this afternoon about your involvement in the Bellmoth investigation.

DEAN: I don't under--

DEAN: Diane, maybe you didn't hear Mr. Silverberg. They've got models that'll try on the garments. Thank you, sir.

SILVERBERG: Merry Christmas, son.

DEAN: God knows I would, sir, but I have a previous engagement this evening.

SILVERBERG: And may I ask what could possibly be more important than Fawell Oil v. U.S. Environmental Agency?

DEAN: I have to go lingerie shopping.

DEAN: Because they've been paid off by Bellmoth.

L.T.: Mr. Dean--

DEAN: My name's Bobby. I'm your lawyer. Don't do anything 'till I talk to you.

L.T.: Well that's why I'm here, Mr. Dean. 'Cause you're a labor lawyer.

DEAN: Good point.

L.T.: Last night, Larry Spinks, he works the Steel Press, he goes to a bar with his wife Rosalie to have a glass of chianti 'cause it's his birthday, and these two guys, these Guido mother-fuckers, they jump him when he goes to the bathroom.

DEAN: L.T., in this office I'd prefer you say Italian-Americans.

L.T.: I'm sorry, Mr. Dean. But Larry's in St. Lukes now, so I'm a little--I'm not myself. The Union bosses say unless we take Bellmoth's offer, it'll only get worse.

DEAN: That's because your Union bosses are those Guido mother-fuckers.

L.T.: I don't under--

DEAN: The Union's trying to railroad you into accepting terms worse than what you have now.

L.T.: Why would the Union--

JENNY: Robert--

DEAN: Where's Stacy?

JENNY: She doesn't want to talk to you.

DEAN: What are you talking--

JENNY: She can't talk to you right now.

DEAN: Why?

JENNY: Because she's reading the newspaper, you asshole.

DEAN: It's okay to use the phone.

ERIC: Alright!

DEAN: No "900" numbers.

ERIC: How long can you stay?

DEAN: I'm not goin' anywhere, Eric. I live here.

ERIC: Dad!

DEAN: Do I know you?

ERIC: Where've you been?

DEAN: Having an adventure. I can't tell you about it right now, but I'll tell you about it soon.

ERIC: Are you and mom getting a divorce?

DEAN: No. We're never getting a divorce. We were having a fight. It happens sometimes.

ERIC: Who won the fight?

DEAN: Men don't win fights with women, son, I'll tell you about that sometime, too. In the meantime, I've got a question for you, and it's incredibly important that you tell me the truth. Under no circumstances will I be angry with you. This is a total Get-Out-Of- Jail-Free card. Ready?

ERIC: Yeah.

DEAN: Did you take anything--anything at all--out of those Christmas bags I brought home last week.

ERIC: He's kidding.

DEAN: Where's mom?

ERIC: She's in the kitchen.

DEAN: You're learning a cruel lesson.

ERIC: Are those my Christmas presents?

DEAN: Some of 'em.

ERIC: Can I open 'em up?

DEAN: Sure, go ahead.

ERIC: Really?

DEAN: In your dreams.

ERIC: Dad!

DEAN: You staying for dinner?

DEAN: Excuse me, have any of you seen an eight year old boy, good looking, about yea-big.

ERIC: Hi, dad.

JERRY: Bobby? Piece of advice?

DEAN: Yeah?

JERRY: Turn yourself in.

DEAN: Jerry?

JERRY: Yeah?

DEAN: Go fuck yourself.

JERRY: I'm sorry, man.

DEAN: No. No, it's okay.

DEAN: Jerry--

JERRY: Christ!

DEAN: Ssh!

JERRY: Bobby--

DEAN: It's the NSA. They're the ones doing this.

JERRY: Bobby--

DEAN: The NSA's doing this 'cause they think I have something. And they killed--

JERRY: Calm down.

DEAN: They killed Rachel.

JERRY: Rachel's dead?

DEAN: Yes.

JERRY: Jesus.

DEAN: My stuff's all over her apartment.

JERRY: Bobby--

DEAN: They're framing me.

JERRY: Why would they--

DEAN: I don't know. I mean--

JERRY: Why would the NSA--

DEAN: I don't know!

JERRY: You're tired.

DEAN: Jerry--

JERRY: Listen to me.

DEAN: You gotta--

JERRY: No, listen to me. You gotta let me bring you in.

DEAN: No, I--

JERRY: You gotta let me bring you in to the police.

DEAN: I won't make it to the police. They won't let me get there. You go.

JERRY: To the cops?

DEAN: To the NSA. Make a deal. Tell 'em to stop. Tell 'em I don't have what they're after. Make a deal.

JERRY: Bobby, you're in way over your head.

DEAN: Go to 'em, Jerry.

JERRY: I have a family.

DEAN: So do I!

JERRY: The Congressman's very happy to have your support, but he's heard that there's an investigation.

DEAN: An investigation? It was a bus accident.

JERRY: He's heard that it's escalated.

DEAN: Into what?

JERRY: Your Bellmoth case. The FBI thinks there might be mob ties.

DEAN: I'm a labor lawyer. There are always mob ties.

JERRY: Just be cool.

JERRY: Can I talk to you a second?

DEAN: Table 122?

JERRY: That's what I want to talk to you about?

DEAN: I wrote a check for a thousand dollars. You guys didn't have a table that was in the kitchen?

DEAN: They took the espresso machine. The espresso machine, Jerry! Which makes sense, you know, because the crooks probably wanted to make themselves a latte before fencing the stereo.

JERRY: Did they take your clothes?

DEAN: No.

JERRY: You've got a bunch of Armani suits, they didn't take 'em?

DEAN: No.

JERRY: Usually they take clothes.

DEAN: Why don't you give 'em a call.

JERRY: What about jewelry?

DEAN: They didn't take the jewelry. They took the computers. They took the big-screen TV, they took my blender.

JERRY: The blender?

DEAN: I love my blender.

JERRY: They didn't take the silverware?

DEAN: No, but they took my blender.

JERRY: Sounds like they didn't want anything that wasn't electric?

DEAN: What?

JERRY: They only took electrical appliances.

DEAN: Serve the ball.

DEAN: It's me, Robert Dean. From Seth, Silverberg. I worked on--

ZAVITZ: Bobby--

DEAN: It's been a few years.

ZAVITZ: Yeah.

DEAN: I'm just doing some Christmas shopping. It's for my wife, no kidding. Though, this isn't the main present, it's just, you know, a little--

ZAVITZ: I need help.

DEAN: Tell me about it.

ZAVITZ: How can I reach you?

DEAN: Are you okay?

ZAVITZ: Are you still in Crystal City?

DEAN: Yeah, what's going on?

LEVIN: You think there was a connection to--

DEAN: Jesus! I just told you. I don't know.

LEVIN: Was Zavitz in trouble?

DEAN: I don't know.

LEVIN: Dick Burns got a phone call this morning from someone wanting information on you.

DEAN: The police?

LEVIN: No. He said they were doing a credit check. Are you refinancing a loan?

DEAN: You remember Daniel Zavitz?

LEVIN: Yeah.

DEAN: He got hit by a bus.

LEVIN: What does that have to do with you?

DEAN: I honestly don't know.

FRANKIE: Well we'd sure like to help you.

DEAN: You would?

FRANKIE: Yes. But we can't.

DEAN: Why not?

FRANKIE: Because we, and our associates, have paid out hundreds of thousands of dollars to shyster lawyers like you, because of shyster lawyers like you, and we'd just as soon sit back and sip a beer while you get ass-banged by as many people as possible.

FRANKIE: What is it you want?

DEAN: Someone's trying to destroy my life, and I'd like to find out who.

REYNOLDS: What's your opinion?

FIEDLER: It's hard to say for certain, these things are--

REYNOLDS: I'm not asking you to say for certain. This is what you're trained to do, right?

FIEDLER: Yes sir.

REYNOLDS: Then what's your goddam opinion?

FIEDLER: Zavitz had digital compression equipment. He could've downloaded into something. A disk, a chip, anything small enough to put in his pocket and run with. Whatever he put it in, he dropped it in that bag.

REYNOLDS: Get it.

REYNOLDS: "I know thy works and thy labour and how thou canst not bear them that are evil. And thou hast tried them who say they are apostles and hast found them to be liars". Revelations II.

HAMERSLEY: What the hell does it mean?

REYNOLDS: It means who's side are you on?

HAMERSLEY: You didn't ask me to meet you 30 miles from my office for a Bible study class.

REYNOLDS: It's a bi-partisan issue. Everyone needs to swallow hard. No one, including you, wants to be fingered as the one obstructing efforts to crack down on terrorism, and--

HAMERSLEY: Fuck you.

REYNOLDS: What?

HAMERSLEY: I said fuck you.

REYNOLDS: Is that anyway to talk to an old school chum?

HAMERSLEY: You're gonna finger me as soft on terrorism? Terrorism, you unconscionable asshole?

REYNOLDS: There are planes falling out of the sky, buildings blowing up. American buildings. Americans getting bombs in the mail. What are we gonna do!?

HAMERSLEY: We're not gonna hand you and your band of lunatics the keys to the kingdom. I'm not gonna sit in Congress and write a law that allows the NSA to point a camera and a microphone at anything they damn well feel like. And the next time you have something to say to me, we do it above-board, in my office, like everyone else. Now get outa my car, I've got a committee meeting on the hill.

HICKS: Found him. Kent Island nailed the call five minutes ago. He's stationary.

REYNOLDS: Do you have visual?

HICKS: Not yet. He's near "M" and 34th. I've got an ELSUR unit on the scene now. A residential building. Twelve units.

REYNOLDS: What's your ETA?

HICKS: Three minutes. We're going in light. Myself and two others. Everyone else is held back in reserve.

REYNOLDS: He walked right up to me in church. At the holiest time of the wear. He approached me in a sanctified place. Kill him now.

HICKS: Jones had to flee the scene before we could locate the second body.

REYNOLDS: What about the tape?

HICKS: We think it was on Brill. If it was, it's destroyed now.

REYNOLDS: And if it wasn't?

REYNOLDS: What about--

HICKS: We don't know.

REYNOLDS: Explain that.

HICKS: We found two sets of latent prints in the rubble of Brill's studio. One was Dean's. The other, we believe, belongs to Brill.

REYNOLDS: We believe?

HICKS: Well...his real name's Edward Lyle.

REYNOLDS: Lyle?!

HICKS: Yes sir.

REYNOLDS: You're kidding me.

HICKS: No sir.

REYNOLDS: Dean's with Lyle.

HICKS: And they have the video. That's confirmed.

REYNOLDS: So they know everything.

HICKS: If they've looked at the video.

REYNOLDS: Oh, let's assume that they have.

HICKS: If he's with Lyle it means he's got resources.

REYNOLDS: Resources, that's a good point. He's got resources. All we've got is a six-hundred billion dollar organization! Now goddammit, Hicks, you find 'em. You find 'em and you end it now!

REYNOLDS: I sit on top of the greatest intelligence gathering organization in human history. Why can't I bring in a man whose name is in the fucking phonebook?!

HICKS: He's clever. He had help.

REYNOLDS: He's clever? He had help? Oh.

HICKS: Sir--

REYNOLDS: No, no, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were hoping to be transferred to a weathership outside Greenland.

HICKS: I just meant--

REYNOLDS: I don't care if he's Solomon with Saint Joseph sitting in his lap. I want the tape and I want him. Now is--

REYNOLDS: 30 minutes ago you said we had him. What in hell's goin' on out there?

HICKS: He had help.

REYNOLDS: Help from whom? Christ.

HICKS: He's arrogant and threatening. Voice stress points suggest he's worrying.

REYNOLDS: Hiding something?

HICKS: It was in his bag. Now it's not.

REYNOLDS: Destroy his credibility before he goes public. Neutralize him. I don't want anyone listening to a word he has to say. Tell me about Rachel Banks.

HICKS: We'd have to--

REYNOLDS: Get it.

REYNOLDS: What happened?

HICKS: He's dead. An accident. Hit by a bus.

REYNOLDS: What about the tapes?

HICKS: We found the originals.

REYNOLDS: The originals?

HICKS: There was a transfer.

REYNOLDS: Am I to understand--

HICKS: He never made it to the newspaper, but there was private sector contact.

REYNOLDS: Who?

HICKS: Several indiscriminates and one primary who we've ID'd as Robert Dean. A Crystal City attorney. Mr. Reynolds? Sir?

REYNOLDS: Contact COINTEL. Profile. Assess the threat. Then cross-check against Zavitz. Red-flag the intersects and anything we can exploit. Also NRO. Pull up the keyhole tapes. I need to own him. I need to own him now.

ZAVITZ: Yes?

MAN'S VOICE: Federal Express for 'Zavitz'.

ZAVITZ: Federal Express?

MAN'S VOICE: For Daniel Zavitz. I just need a signature.

ZAVITZ: How'd you get in the building?

MAN'S VOICE: The door was open, sir. I just need a signature.

MARSHAL: It was pulsing on your SAT frequencies.

SHAFFER: I don't know what's going on, but if you people have tripped over your own asshole again, you're not gonna get any help from us. It's ending at your doorstep.

SHAFFER: We're not stupid, Reynolds.

MARSHAL: The fuck do you have goin' on with Sam Albert?

SHAFFER: This guy's carrying the flag for the damn terrorism bill. You think this is the best time to piss him off?

MARSHAL: You have any idea what kind of position this--

SHAFFER: He's carrying the damn flag.

REYNOLDS: Now is that clear?

WAITER: Yes sir.

REYNOLDS: Yes?

WAITER: Puffed cheese?

REYNOLDS: No thank you.

WAITER: I also have tiny pizzas and mushrooms stuffed with--

REYNOLDS: Do I look like I want a tiny pizza?

WAITER: No.

REYNOLDS: Then let's assume I don't.

WAITER: Yes sir.