Panama (2022) - full transcript

Inspired by true events. In wild 1989 Panama, James Becker, a rugged, decorated ex-marine, is sent undercover by his former commander Stark to execute a high-value deal with dangerous adversaries he can't trust. While navigating through the chaos of the local civil war, Becker must fight assassins, court femmes fatales and negotiate with the enemy in order to complete his mission. With Stark always by his side, Becker must persevere against all odds in hopes of making it home alive.

...rejected by the

dictator of Panama, General Manuel Noriega.

...serviceman...

...contacted the...

Let me tell ya,

there's nothing more rock and roll

than taking out the bad guys

for the red, white and blue.

But every mission had its price,

and this last one was heavy.

If there's ever a guy needed for

a tough job, this was him. Becker.

The thing

about working as an operator

is you come up

against a lot of bad guys,

fuckheads like this.

Fuck!

Off the record,

his real name was James McLeod.

Now let's slow this down a bit.

I always knew

where to find him.

He's been passed out by his

wife's grave for over a year.

All right, Sam. Fetch him.

Hey, sweetheart.

Sweet,

but undisciplined.

But you'd know all about

that, wouldn't ya?

What do you want, John?

I have an assignment.

I'm not interested.

Sarah's been gone

for over a year now, Becker.

Fuck.

You spent that whole time

agonizing over your guilt.

You blame yourself, and hell,

you're probably right.

I mean, it was

your fault after all.

But if you're gonna

commit suicide over it,

just please, stick a gun in your

mouth, get it over with.

This waiting for your liver

to drop out could take years.

She died, John, because I

didn't protect her from me.

From what I do.

She was innocent.

I put her in danger.

Somehow I cheated

her out of her own fucking life.

And I didn't

get revenge for it.

That's not true, kid.

Not true.

We tracked and killed

all three of those... people.

You don't get it.

I needed to fucking kill them.

- Me.

- I understand. I get it.

Luckily for you, providence

placed the antidote

not too far away

from the poison.

You need a purpose,

I got one for ya.

It's far away from here.

Warm climate, sandy beaches,

palm trees.

Remember when you sold that tank

lander with a sinkhole in it?

Yeah, in Panama.

Panama.

Report to Nellis.

9:00 a.m., Monday morning.

We'll brief you.

Don't hold your breath.

I'll be turning blue.

Make it 10:00.

Come on, Sam.

Where are you?

His sister-in-law

checks in on him now and again.

Probably the only reason

he's still alive.

At least I made you laugh, huh?

Here. Drink.

Do you remember that?

We look happy, huh?

You could use a shower.

You sure Becker's the right guy? He's a Boy

Scout, and we're sending him to a whorehouse.

He's the best bullet catcher

we had once.

- He'll be fine.

- I wouldn't call this boy a scout.

His file looks like

an international rap sheet.

I've heard he's bullheaded and willful.

He may question command.

It's true. He has no respect for

rank and pretense of any kind.

- But that's a good thing, isn't it?

- Then he might go rogue.

If things don't go to plan,

I don't want that blood on my hands.

Blood on your hands?

Are you sure that's not lotion?

I wouldn't worry

about the blood, Burns.

After what you and I

did in Vietnam,

we'll spend an eternity

on the meat rack.

- Hey, Cyn, don't you have a flight to catch?

- Gentlemen.

- Buen viaje.

- Gracias.

- Hey, bro.

- Stark.

I'd like you to meet Hank

Burns, outta SOCOM in DC.

He's here to aid and assist

where necessary.

Let's cut through all the bullshit.

What's your part?

Already I can tell by your

attitude you're asshole-validated.

Forewarned, you're not the

only US Marine standing here.

By the looks of you,

you're an 0141.

- Were you in the fucking air corps?

- And proud of it, grunt.

Conflict! I love it.

But we're here to work together.

Gung ho, semper fi, all that Marine

brotherhood shit. You know, all of that.

I'll do my job, Stark,

like I always do.

Just keep this CIA wannabe

away from me.

Good. Well, now we're all

buds, here's the deal.

Since the Iran-Contra bullshit,

Fort Sherman in Panama

is the CIA conduit

for supplying arms

to the contras in Nicaragua.

Noriega's become unreliable.

With all the cocaine

and Crown Royal in his system,

we never know which El

General we're talking to.

Operationally,

Panama's managed by Colonel Justines.

We consider him a friend.

He's very approachable.

The Boland Amendment bars the US from

selling arms directly to the contras,

so the CIA is constantly looking for

creative, cute new ways to fund them.

Now, the first order of business?

Buy a Russian chopper.

All right? Now, Burns here is an

expert in Soviet military equipment.

Now, with your level-three

clearance and user permit,

you are the perfect guy to make

the Russian chopper transaction.

Clear as mud? No?

Let me explain.

There are some friends of Uncle

Sam that wanna kill a guy,

and they want a Russian

chopper to do it, okay?

Now, we like that they're

gonna kill this guy,

so we're gonna shell out

to buy 'em a chopper.

- Yeah? Who's selling?

- Noriega. Fucking communist.

He wants ten mil transferred

to his personal Swiss account.

You gotta be

fucking kidding me.

Nope.

The contras want the chopper.

In return, they'll give us

Soviet weaponry and intel.

So we're buying a chopper from

Noriega and using it to kill him?

- I love the poetic irony in that, huh?

- I knew you would.

It tickles

the shit out of me.

Our contact for picking up

the chopper is in Panama.

Now, it's gonna take

a couple of weeks,

so tourist visa

ain't gonna cut it.

- Right, so I need a legitimate job.

- That's right.

So from now on, you're a

consultant for Casinos Nationale.

Bump up the revenue.

Reel in the suckers, okay?

We'll help ya.

Question for both of you.

Is this all legal?

Sure. Lawyers

are okay with it.

You gonna have

a problem with this?

You pay me, I act, Burns.

It's a simple fucking deal.

But you have opinions.

- I'll see ya, Stark.

- Yeah.

Only good ones.

There you go. Buddies.

Look at that.

Now, once you get settled,

you'll meet with Enrique Rodriguez.

His father was

a former government official

who died when Enrique was 12.

He's very connected

and Harvard educated.

Marcos Justines

is his godfather,

his uncle, Billy Ford,

who opposes Noriega

in the election.

Enrique is brokering

the chopper deal.

Now, we wired him

a clean million as a deposit,

but the dipshit

probably spent it already.

He's overly fond

of blow and hookers.

I'm Becker.

Hola. I'm to drive you

to see Señor Rodriguez.

- Same place.

- Okay.

No, no, I got it. It's fine.

Don't worry about it.

- It's my job, okay?

- Okay.

Gracias.

Señor Becker.

Señor Rodriguez.

- Pleasure.

- Pleasure.

- Sit.

- Thank you.

My friends

call me Enrique.

- I expect you to call me the same.

- All right.

What do your friends

call you?

- Becker.

- Becker.

What do your girlfriends

call you?

- The same.

- Becker?

Yeah.

- Simple enough.

- Yes, sir.

- This is Valentina, my fiancée.

- Mucho gusto.

Mi amor, Señor Becker and I

need to discuss business.

Catch you later? Yeah?

Kiss.

Enrique,

that's a lovely lady.

A bitch.

- So, you like this place?

- Yeah, yeah, sure. It's nice.

All right. Pablo.

Leave the bags.

- It's yours.

- Thank you. Thank you.

So, let's talk about

the helicopter, shall we?

Hmm.

Later. I don't usually talk about

business this late in the day.

But we're going to

have plenty of time

for such a tedious discussion.

Relax. Sophia.

This is Sophia, my fiancée.

I like it.

Nice to meet you.

Cariño mío,

Señor Becker and I

are discussing business.

Meet you later

at the pool?

Come.

Panama has lots to offer

a man like you.

Just settle in.

Enjoy yourself.

In time we'll make

our deal. Drink?

Shot of whiskey,

if you don't mind.

Cheers.

Ah, Isabella.

Man, I thought

the '70s were sexy.

There's nothing like the '80s.

Isabella, meet Señor Becker.

Becker, I am pleased to introduce

you my fiancée, Isabella.

Nice to...

You're a lucky man, señor.

- Welcome.

- Yeah.

James McLeod.

What did you say?

James McLeod.

Nobody's called me that

since high school.

- Who are you?

- Brooklyn Rivera.

- Brooklyn, huh?

- My father was a Dodgers fan.

Yeah. You part

of the contras or what?

We prefer

the term Commandos.

The term contra-revolution

implies we're trying

to restore the government

prior

to the Sandinista revolution.

We certainly are not.

So are you here to discuss

the chopper deal or what?

I cannot make a deal without

the consent of my comandante,

Steadman Fagoth Muller.

- Steadman Muller?

- Steadman Fagoth Muller.

He's very peculiar

about how he's addressed.

When he was a child, his middle

name was the subject of teasing,

so he beat up everyone who

tried to make a joke of it

and forced them all

to call him by his full name.

Yeah, he sounds

like an asshole to me.

- Finish your beer. Then we can go meet with him.

- Yeah.

Tell you what.

Why don't we meet up in my suite

in, say, an hour,

hour and a half, all right?

You don't understand.

I have a plane waiting.

- A plane?

- Courtesy of your Department of Defense.

Mr. Burns will be there.

Man, I just

got off a plane.

Where are we going?

Miami.

We going to the safe

house in Little Havana?

No, not that one.

You'll like it.

Turn here.

You know, if you're taking me

to the safe house, Burns,

you should probably

put a hood on me.

You were vetted.

Level three.

Stick your tongue out,

please.

Huh?

I said, stick

your tongue out, please.

No, thanks.

In Tibet,

it's a traditional greeting

to know if your visitor

has evil thoughts.

Do you have evil thoughts,

Mr. Becker?

Yeah, all the time.

- Uh-huh.

- Yeah.

In America,

we shake hands.

- That's how it works.

- Okay.

A firm handshake, but not too firm.

I like that.

Sometimes people

like to shake too firmly

and try to hide something,

and that makes me suspicious.

Mm-hmm.

Make you sound paranoid.

Try and be nice, Becker. He's on our side.

No, no, no, it's okay.

It's okay.

You say what is

in your mind, don't you?

- Yeah.

- At least we don't have any communication problem.

- No, we won't have any of that.

- Yeah.

- Take a seat, please.

- Thank you.

I hear that you want

Soviet communication equipment.

As much as you can supply.

And in exchange?

A Soviet helicopter.

That's what I wanna hear.

And what is in it

for you?

What do you mean?

Profit.

That's the only reason?

Is there anything else?

Papá y mamá.

My parents.

Sandinistas came in the

middle of the night,

woke them up

and shot them.

And my wife

and my daughter.

Noriega ordered them killed.

The soldiers raped my 12-year-old

daughter just in front of my wife.

They shot them both in their face

and threw their bodies in a ditch.

I am blamed because I wasn't

there to protect them.

I'm sorry. I am.

You see, it doesn't matter

how many Sandinistas we kill.

It is never enough.

I have 3,000 men

in the mountain

of Rus Rus.

And all they want

is kill Sandinistas.

They don't fight for democracy

as your government pretends.

They don't even know

what that's for.

They just want revenge.

- Hmm.

- For the same reason I do.

I know, I understand.

Tomorrow morning

you're gonna go to Honduras

with Brooklyn

to our refugee camp,

and perhaps you'll truly

understand, Mr. Becker.

Too many children here

with their families destroyed.

Why? What happened?

Their fathers

and mothers killed.

Hola.

You can sit next to her.

Puedo?

Gracias.

They cut open

my father's stomach

and let him bleed

until he was dead.

And then told my mom

we were free to go.

When we started walking,

they shot her in the back.

I ran away.

Then they told

everyone she was killed

while she was trying

to escape.

So how can I help you?

Deliver

that Soviet helicopter.

Until then...

help us kill

some bad guys.

Comandante.

Mr. Becker.

Okay. Vamos.

You like rock music?

I'm more

of a Willie Nelson guy.

- We'll make you a rock fan.

- I doubt it.

Welcome to the jungle!

Hey, who's on drums?

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

All right, go ahead.

Quick. Let's go. Move.

What the fuck are you doing?

You just killed a doctor

and a civilian.

I thought you Americans

hated Bolsheviks, huh?

You sound like a civilian.

I thought you were a soldier.

This is your nurse?

Look at your nurse.

Huh?

Perhaps this is your doctor.

They would have killed you

the second you turned away.

So now you see

the war that we fight.

Huh?

And bring me that chopper

if you want this equipment.

Jackie Cordoza was the

biggest casino operator in Panama.

I mean that in every damn way.

- Señor Cordoza.

- Mr. Becker.

- Nice to finally meet you.

- You too, sir.

Becker, you were hired to increase

the take at the Casinos Nationale.

- Sí.

- And the general here expects results.

I'll do the best I can.

I will.

Well, please get to know

the operation.

- But a word of advice, Becker.

- Yeah?

- Don't look too deeply.

- Understand.

Good.

How was your weekend?

- Idyllic, yeah. It was the best.

- Good. Excellent.

Let me show you...

Oh.

Let me give you

the grand tour.

The thing

about drug dealers like Enrique

is that they always answer to someone with bigger cojones.

And those McNuggets

belong to the colonel.

Colonel Marcos Justines,

the second-most powerful man

in Panama behind Noriega.

Enrique, lovely to see you.

Colonel Justines.

Come in, please.

- It's a pleasure to see you, Colonel.

- Thank you.

- Champagne?

- Please.

Please, come in.

So...

- You have plan for this evening?

- You know me.

I have plans

every night.

Of course.

And it always involves chiquillas.

Time to pay Cordoza

once again.

El Gordo?

Yes, the Fat Man,

as you call him.

Do you feel like gambling?

- Sure.

- Good.

He will be at the

Marriott casino tonight.

Hundred thousand.

Make sure you lose it all.

And here is, uh...

Thank you, Colonel.

The helicopter deal.

I'll get my usual taste

of that, I presume?

A taste?

You can have

the entire appetizer.

They wired

a million down.

And I will get it to you

all in cash. All of it.

Excellent.

Tell me something.

Will you torture this Becker the

way you do all your customers?

As usual, I will squeeze

more money out of him

than he expects to pay.

And we'll both benefit

from the extra cash, Colonel.

Salud, Colonel.

It's always a pleasure.

Mr. Becker.

You a narc or a spook?

Narc.

Sit down.

- Do I know you?

- You should.

We can help

each other out.

What if I

don't need any help?

Stark thought you might.

I was told you have

a level-three clearance.

You'd be

a valuable asset to us.

A lot of money passes

through those casinos.

I need documentation,

and you're in a position to get it for me.

What kind of documentation?

Well, money is being

laundered in a massive scale

through the casino.

I need the cage reports.

I need to know

where the money's going.

Talking about drug money?

What are you talking about?

Oh, whatever it is

or it isn't,

that's not important to me.

Let the DEA arrest the drug dealers.

I thought that was the idea.

We want evidence

incriminating Noriega.

The CIA is financing

the opposite ticket.

They're pouring in

$50 million.

Isn't that

against the rules?

Meddling with another

country's election?

My organization is working on

the other side of the equation.

We're building evidence

against Noriega.

You were saying

how we can help each other.

Doors will open.

You can get me

those reports,

I can arrange for some

cash to find its way

into an offshore account

of yours somewhere.

- Tell me another way you can help me.

- We have resources.

Some day

you will need me.

It seems to weigh

just right.

The serial number on the .45 is a code.

Memorize it.

If you have a problem, call the

office, give the respondent the number,

we'll provide you

with assistance.

Cynthia.

Now you're being helpful.

Take care of business.

Hello.

Enrique, I looked up

your gaming history.

I gotta be honest.

You're a horrible gambler.

- Surely that's not a complaint.

- Nah, nah, nah.

I heard your drink of choice

is champagne. Is that right?

- It is.

- Yeah?

No champagne is complete

without some chochas.

- Mm.

- I have a few waiting for me at the bar.

Wanna join?

Why not? Yeah.

I will show you

a good time, Becker.

And about the helicopter deal,

we can talk about it later.

How come a guy like you

is here alone?

Guess I'm waiting for a woman like you.

Camila. One in a million.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, cowboy.

That one

you don't wanna mess with.

- She's dangerous.

- How so?

She's connected

to the wrong people.

You know, Enrique, you like

living dangerously, don't you?

- Always.

- Yeah.

Makes you feel alive,

right?

- Yes, it does.

- Yeah.

So, let me live.

I'm Becker.

What's your name?

You're drunk.

Hmm. Yeah.

But I ain't

fucking blind.

You know, you sure

are beautiful.

And you are a handsome man,

but you're still drunk.

Yeah, well, that can be

rectified, you know.

Don't bother.

I'll ruin your life.

It's already ruined.

You are un poquito loco.

Yeah, that is true.

If you want a sane man,

you got Enrique over there.

Now, there you are wrong.

He's definitely not sane.

But at least he's smart

enough to not hit on me.

Well, I guess

maybe I'm stupid then.

- Yes, you are.

- Yeah.

I like stupid men.

- As long as they are rich.

- Oh, shit.

Now we're getting

somewhere, baby.

Well...

Well what?

Shall we go to bed?

Damn, you are sexy.

Shh.

It's only gonna work out

if you don't talk, okay?

Hey, hey, hey. Slow down.

Ready for this one?

Yes! Whoo!

Whoo!

When I win, everybody wins.

And to make this evening

more interesting...

I'm all in.

- You roll, my dear.

- Really?

Yeah.

Excellent.

Whoo! So now that I ran out of

chips, we can go back to the bar.

Huh?

You ready for that?

Yes? Come on.

Sex for me helps

to keep my demons away.

- Sex and alcohol.

- Mm.

Show me your arm.

Is that one of your demons?

A gang

back in Colombia.

Well, you done

with all that?

That's why I move here.

I used to dream,

you know.

I had lots of dreams.

About what?

About...

running away

with someone.

Someone special.

Oh, yeah? What happened?

When I was 14,

I was purchased by my patrón.

I actually wanted

to be sold.

Couldn't wait.

Because... anything was better

than how I was living.

My father

ripped me from home

and just gave me away

in an exchange for two

cows and 500 pesos.

That's horrible.

That was a long time ago.

Don't worry.

I have learned to survive

by my wits and my body.

My looks are just

a commodity to me.

To be bought and sold.

A question for you.

Am I gonna

get a bill for this?

I knew you would ask that.

It's my day off.

Shit.

Baby, I could run away with you.

You know that?

You don't want to get

to know me first?

Shouldn't you get that?

Ready? Yes?

Becker!

I heard you ride motorcycles.

Is that true?

A little bit. Yeah.

Well, I'm gonna give you the

thrill of your life in the morning.

Since you insist on living dangerously.

All right.

See you then.

Whoo!

Hair of the dog,

my friend.

Today we test

our skills.

I have an obstacle course

cut into the jungle.

Let's see if you can

keep up with me.

I'm not into dirt bikes.

I'm more into cruisers.

You Americans

and the Harleys.

I would fall asleep

in one of those.

Real men go off road.

Listen, if you win,

you keep this helicopter.

If you don't,

I'll sell it to someone else.

Deal?

Drug dealers love the

natural stuff, too... adrenaline.

Never met one who wasn't

a complete fucking nutjob.

Don't feel

so badly, señor.

No one has ever lasted

as long as you have.

We're gonna be

good friends, you and I.

Nope.

No, on the right side. Yeah.

- Oh, fuck.

- Sorry.

Enrique's an arrogant prick.

Yeah, but that son of a bitch

can ride a dirt bike though.

Hello.

Fucking asshole.

Goddamn.

- Dónde está Enrique?

- En el cuarto.

Yeah.

Enrique.

- Enrique, hey.

- It's only 10:00. Grab one of these beautiful women.

You need to adjust

your fucking business hours.

Would you like one?

- No, no, I'm good.

- Glenmorangie.

Eighteen year old.

Single malt.

Mm.

So, what can I do for you?

My understanding is they're

selling the helo to another buyer.

Is that right?

- Yes.

- Why?

Because you lost

the motorcycle race, Becker.

Fuck you.

- I'm sorry.

- No, no.

We paid you a million

dollars in advance,

and you cashed

the fucking wire.

Now, I'd like

the money back, please.

That was

a nonrefundable deposit.

Enrique, I don't do

nonrefundable.

I'm asking ya nicely,

kid.

And they say good manners

don't cost anything, right?

Okay, look. Let me make it

real fucking simple for you.

You either give me the

money or I'll take it.

Your whores down in the

casino, they got loose lips.

I know you got the money in here,

so show me where the fuck it is.

Yeah, he had it

in a fucking speaker.

I used to hide Playboys

in a speaker when I was ten.

- There's your fucking money.

- Good.

Good. Now you can go back to your fucking siesta.

I hope you know

what you're doing.

We continue the struggle.

- Anything you need, jefe?

- No, Pablo.

How's your beautiful family?

Oh, they are muy bien.

I love them so much.

Well, I want you

to go home.

I don't need you until tomorrow.

All right?

Whatever you say.

Thank you.

Thank you.

- Now, what's this?

- It's evidence. Cage reports.

It's what you wanted, right?

It's exactly what I wanted.

So, what can I do for you?

I need you to get Enrique to sell me the

helicopter for the price we agreed upon.

Why would I play a card for a

business deal that means nothing?

It's not nothing.

If you don't help me, then I'm just gonna

raise some old-fashioned fucking revenge.

- You hear me?

- Oh, my God. Get over it, Becker.

Okay? There's

a shitstorm coming,

and your helicopter deal

is just one of its casualties.

Don't do anything stupid.

...to

defend democracy in Panama,

to combat drug trafficking

and to protect the integrity

of the Panama Canal Treaty.

Many attempts have been made

to resolve this crisis

through diplomacy

and negotiation,

to urge General Noriega

to honor the clear results...

Jesus Christ,

what a mess.

I'm gonna take the call

in the bedroom, all right?

Wish you would take me in the bedroom.

After this call, I'll take you on the couch.

Promise?

I understand that Carlos and...

- Hello.

- Hey, how's our Boy Scout doing down there?

- Getting pretty wild, huh?

- It is.

- Did you hear our chopper deal went south?

- Yeah, I did.

- Well, I got the million.

- Hey, good man.

Panama's about to explode.

I wouldn't be surprised if we

invade, the way things are going.

I hope you let me know if they start

dropping fucking bombs down here.

Yeah, I'll give you

a heads up on that one.

Listen, Becker.

The favor you asked of the DEA?

I get it.

But stand down. Enrique

will be dealt with, okay?

Stark, there's good people down

here that need that chopper.

Yeah, I know, I know.

We'll help them when we can,

but now is not the time.

- Sir, this is the reason why I hate this business.

- I understand.

But the best I can do right now is

get you a big, fat Christmas bonus

for putting up with the

bullshit, all right?

So...

you were saying something

about the couch?

I believe we were,

yeah.

Yes?

Enrique. Join us.

Santos.

Been worried.

My uncle was attacked.

Nothing to worry about.

He's in good health.

Pure theatrics,

mi chiquillo.

A public relations stunt

planned well in advance.

Your tío is now

a national hero.

My idea.

Why?

I don't understand.

Endara and my uncle

are the opposition.

If they come to power,

they will not act in your interest.

My friend,

the prudent action on my part

is to bet on both outcomes.

Both outcomes?

Okay.

If America invades,

Endara and your uncle take power.

If they don't,

Noriega remains.

Either way, I win.

I staged this event with the

cooperation of your uncle

and his advisers.

You see, we need

blood in the streets

if we want to provoke

an invasion.

Meanwhile, we need

to clean up loose ends.

Cordoza, for once.

He knows too much.

And your American friend,

in particular.

I rather like Becker.

Don't get sentimental.

He's tied in with Cordoza.

He works at the casino.

We don't know what he knows

or who he talks to.

You can't trust Americans.

He took my money.

So get rid of him

and anyone else close to him

and get

my million dollar back.

And just like that,

the colonel wanted everyone dead.

Americano.

Becker.

The big corporate news networks

are reporting

the casualties are less

than a hundred people,

but that simply isn't true.

There are scores of Panamanians

out there dead,

and there are more desperately

seeking medical attention.

And the government?

The government have closed down all

access to the hospitals. All of them.

This is an emergency situation,

and you need to leave

immediately.

So who can I count on?

Oh, yeah.

- Where are you going?

- I need a smoke.

Bring it back to bed, baby.

You're not a human. You're a sex machine.

You say that

like it's a bad thing.

Let me get a puff of

that, will ya?

All yours.

Where are you going?

- I'm going to pour us a drink.

- Mm.

Camila?

Fuck!

If you don't tell me

who sent you,

I'm gonna

fucking kill you.

- Fuck you.

- Ingles, no?

Okay.

You know what?

Here's the thing

about torture.

It's sometimes

the most effective way.

It's the simplest.

Who fucking sent you?

Enrique!

Enrique Rodriguez.

Enrique?

Yeah.

Really?

D-9-1-O-4-0-5.

Hello?

I got a couple bodies at Camila's

apartment. They need to be picked up.

- Which apartment?

- What do you mean, what apartment?

She has two. One she lives in

and one she entertains in.

Well, I guess I'm in

the one that entertains.

She has another one

in Punta Paitilla.

You want the address?

You look startled.

Thank God you're alive.

It's amazing how you can

just turn it on like that.

I mean it.

Ask me if I set you up.

Okay. Did you?

Yes.

The Colombians,

they threatened to kill my family.

It was either you or them, and I will

make the same choice again if I have to.

I'm not buying that story.

I don't have a family, Camila.

What a dumbass.

But aren't we all?

Amigo.

Amigos don't try

to kill each other.

Are you mad at me?

I know it wasn't your orders.

Thank you for understanding.

You see,

this is just business.

Your country's military will have

secured Panama in a few hours.

And then they will swear in

Guillermo Endara as president

and my uncle as vice president.

You're uncle's a crook,

Enrique.

He's a politician.

I choose the good life.

The booze, cash.

The pussy.

Come here, honey.

See that?

That's a man's morality,

my friend.

The only god.

The resurrection and life.

Our refuge and strength.

Tell you something, my friend.

Get out of here.

If you wanna live in the

definition of your morality,

then you're gonna tell me

who tried to fucking kill me.

- Can't do that.

- Yeah, no, you're gonna do it.

You wanna die, Enrique?

- We're amigos.

- Nah.

You contradicted

yourself.

Sometimes amigos

do kill each other.

Colonel Justines.

Marcos Justines.

Thanks, amigo.

Enrique?

Colonel Justines.

I, uh...

I believe I have

bad news for you.

Becker's still alive.

He was here.

And somehow he knew that...

he knew that you, uh...

you ordered me

to have him killed.

No worries, mi chico.

I'll handle Señor Becker.

Come see me.

Let's have coffee.

Señor Burns.

Enrique failed.

No surprise there.

But it presents an excellent

opportunity for us to do business.

I'm all ears, Colonel.

Your compadre, Becker,

has stolen from me.

It's front money from Stark.

One million.

I would like you to retrieve it.

Upon your success,

we will do the usual split.

I appreciate

the opportunity, Colonel,

but 50/50

won't cut it this time.

Okay. You keep the money.

All of it.

But remember,

you're in Panama.

I'm in charge

of the police and the army.

Are you certain you don't

want some political cover

for this caper of yours?

Standard split after expenses.

We know one

of Becker's weak points.

She's in Panama.

Good. Good then.

After you retrieve my cash,

drive to your finka

outside David.

I'll send my man there

in a couple of days.

Not only

do they want to kill me,

they want the fucking

million dollars back.

- That's why they tore the place apart.

- They get it?

No, no, no. I hid it in a

place they'll never find it.

Listen, Panama's

getting out of hand.

They won't stop

looking for that money.

It's your call. You want to get out

of there and come back stateside?

Not yet, Stark.

Okay. Stay in touch.

I'm on my way.

Okay,

this is where I come in to clean it up.

Camila?

Fuck. Hey.

Honey. Hey.

Oh, fuck.

When your father passed,

you were still a baby.

I tried to step in to fill

that void left by your father.

But so often

I feel I have failed.

No, Colonel.

You were always

there for me.

I was so proud of you.

I was so proud of your

academic achievement.

Graduating cum laude

at Harvard.

Getting your MBA.

What happened?

My mother died.

It proved that life was like a candle

lit in an empty hallway.

She was a saint,

and God took her like

she was cualquier persona.

How did Becker find out it

was me who ordered him killed?

I don't know.

Don't lie to me.

I'm sorry.

You are out of control.

Thank goodness

you have no wife.

No babies.

Why, Colonel?

I will never talk.

What was in the coffee?

Something

to make this go easy.

I can't move my arms.

You're a good boy.

This is bigger than just you and me.

I will miss you.

I will revere this spot

in the garden... forever.

Does it make you feel

good to kill a woman?

Hmm?

Señor Becker, I presume.

I'm gonna make you

fucking suffer.

Okay.

Ooh-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo.

I'm afraid this is a

standoff, don't you think?

We both have weapons

pointed at each other.

I think you should

calm yourself, señor.

Now... I'm going

to make a call.

The person at the other end

may help you understand, okay?

Okay.

It seems killing Señor Becker

just makes him more angry.

He's here, and he has

a gun pointed at me.

Perhaps

you should talk to him.

- Put it down.

- Sure.

Please.

Who is this?

Everyone you ever care

about seems to die, Becker.

Burns?

Your wife Sarah.

You motherfucker, you.

Camila.

And now Tatyana.

What are you talking about?

Becker.

Tatyana?

What's going on?

Tatyana?

But you have a chance, Becker.

A chance to save her.

You piece of shit.

We will arrange a trade.

Give me the million dollars

you stole from me,

and you get her back.

- Yeah.

- Alive and in one piece.

The fuck's going on?

- You tell Burns to let her go.

- Let who go?

Tatyana!

Your sister-in-law.

What about her?

Listen to me, John.

He's asking me to give

Justines the million dollars

- or he's gonna kill her.

- Shit.

- What the fuck is she doing here?

- I don't know.

My advice? Pay the man.

- Pay him?

- Yeah.

That's it? Come on.

Let me kill him, John.

No. Arrange the trade, get her back.

Take care of him later.

- I don't trust him.

- He's an untrustworthy motherfucker.

You're gonna need backup.

I'm going with ya.

- Last time you were in the field?

- A long time ago.

I'm rusty.

You wanna be the bait

or the hook?

I suppose it is my turn.

Make sure you hit him in the head.

I was talking to myself.

Make sure you break his neck

after you stick him.

Drop it. Cool.

Been keeping

an eye on us.

Stark will take you

somewhere safe, all right?

I'm glad you're in one piece.

Nice to see ya again.

Well,

it's nice to be seen again.

You got a sense of humor about it. That's good.

You'll survive.

Want some chocolate?

Rumor surfaced that

Burns had been double dealing

with the CIA payments,

so their command has been tapping

his phones for the last six months.

Apparently, he's very tight

with Justines.

Burns is heading for Justines'

ranch outside of Chiriqui tomorrow.

There's a safe house about

500 yards from the ranch.

He's driving,

you're flying on a small plane.

One of my guys will pick you up in

Chiriqui, take you to the finka.

I'll arrange for security

to take the night off.

Rest is up to you.

I'll get the job done.

This detail is essential.

After you get our money back,

turn the lights on.

Ask Burns to leave

the way he came in.

Wait 20 minutes,

then head to the airport.

There'll be another plane

ready to take you back.

Mr. Burns.

Sit.

I've positioned

a chair for you.

You armed?

No, but my driver is.

He's in the car.

With your left arm,

swing the bag in front of your chair.

Good. Now with your right

leg, push it towards me.

Now, as much

as I'd like to kill you,

I've been ordered

to let you go, so go.

Oh, and, Mr. Burns,

one last thing.

If I ever see you again,

you're dead.

Nice.

- Should we bag Justines?

- Not our unit.

Your DEA friend has got all

the information you gave her.

She'll give it to Panama.

Let them juggle the turds.

Well, shit. Let's go find

a bottle of whiskey then.

No, no, no. Not so fast. First you

gotta deliver that chopper to Muller.

Then it's happy hour.

After I deliver the bird,

I'm going on vacation, John.

Well, good.

Good man.

I have a question

for you, John.

Do you believe

in redemption?

Hmm.

The question's flawed.

Redemption implies that we've

committed some kind of sin

and that there's some kind of

higher power that can absolve us.

Both notions I reject.

It's important

you forgive yourself.

I'll see you, brother.

See ya, buddy.

I gotta clean this shit up.

Muller finally got his chopper.

He never killed Noriega

with it.

Matter of fact,

he never killed anyone with it.

He took the high road.

Rescued 200 families instead.

I think he'd finally seen

enough killing.

We caught Noriega

with his drawers down.

Seized a shit ton of cocaine,

cash and Crown Royal.

Well, the Crown Royal

didn't make it too far.

And as you see, Becker

finally got that vacation.

Romantic walks on the beach,

all by himself.

Just another jerk in the surf.