Chaos (2011): Season 1, Episode 7 - Remote Control - full transcript
I'm Agent Rick Martinez.
Let me be the first to
welcome you to the CIA.
And this is the story of
America's great house of spies.
Fay: You've heard
of office politics?
Ours come with poison
pills and guns.
Adele: Spy trap.
I knew this was going
to be a fiasco.
I've been assigned to a
special covert unit,
conceived to go
where others can't,
and to do what others won't,
whether the mission's
authorized or not.
We each have our own
special skill, Martinez.
I lead, Billy charms people,
Casey hurts people,
and you translate.
We are the ODS, last of
the old-school spies.
(Car alarm chirps)
(Alarm chirps twice)
(Alarm chirping)
(Alarm chirps three times)
(Screams) Oh!
- Oh, my God!
- Oh! Oh, my God! I'm so sorry!
No, it's, it's okay, I, um...
I spilled coffee
all over my suit.
Luckily I brought a
change of clothes
for a reception tonight.
I wasn't looking.
You're not leaving, either.
I'm sorry. I'll, I'll go.
No, it's okay.
I'm done.
Wow.
Yeah, it's, uh...
Not really appropriate for work,
but it's better than wearing
a triple latte all day.
(Clears throat)
So this reception...
You wouldn't happen
to have a date?
Would you?
Mr. Martinez, are
you asking me out?
That kinda depends
on your answer.
If it's a no, then
I was just joking.
Is that really how you
would ask me out?
By backing into it?
Oh, Mr. Martinez. Be bold.
You know, if someone wants
me, I'd like to know.
I'd like someone to
say, "I like you,"
or "I want to be with you.
Let's start with dinner."
Okay.
I do like you. And I do
want to be with you.
Dinner, sometime.
No, no. No. No.
Dinner. Tonight.
Let me think about it.
I'll get back to you.
Billy: Morning, Martinez.
You're late for
the meeting in the
conference room.
What? I didn't know
we had a meeting.
Why would you? You
weren't invited.
Somebody clue me in.
Michael: Fay said they'd
need an Arabic translator
for the morning
briefing with Higgins.
The regular guy has
food poisoning.
Which is what happens
when you leave
your breakfast burrito
unattended in the break room.
Did you poison him?
That's neither here nor there.
What's important is,
they are planning
an operation for Paris.
And we love Paris.
You know, fay and I got married there.
We eloped.
We're all painfully
familiar with this story.
Rick: What's the operation?
Does it matter? It's in Paris.
Now get in there.
Can I help you, Mr. Martinez?
I... You sent for a translator?
What happened to
Operative Griffith?
I don't know.
(Man speaking Arabic)
Rick: "Are you ready to
sacrifice everything to Allah?"
(Second man speaking Arabic)
"Yes, but I want to
return to Beirut
to see my children first."
(Man speaking Arabic)
"You will see them
next in heaven,
next to Imam
Khomeini and Allah."
Beirut, Khomeini...
It's Hezbollah.
Which means Hassan Ohana.
- Who is he? - The man who
coordinated the suicide bombings
in Tel Aviv last month.
Killed seven Americans.
Fay: Hassan is the voice
you've been translating,
telling the bomber to
detonate himself.
And you traced the
calls to Paris.
We believe he's hiding there.
Higgins: Let's activate a team.
Surveillance only.
I want to know with certainty,
Ohana is operating out of Paris,
before we turn our info
over to the French.
I'd like to volunteer
the ODS, sir.
(Sighs)
This is a delicate operation.
The French distrust us.
In fact, there's been zero
cooperation between our agencies
since '95, which is when we
shut down our field office
in Paris because
they accused us of
spying in their backyard.
Were we?
Does it matter?
What matters is that
French intelligence can never
know that we're there.
Sir,
you of all people know
how good the ODS is
at flying under the radar.
I strongly suggest that you
take this under consideration.
Pat me on the back, gentlemen.
I just got us a trip to Paris.
Great!
Our last two missions have
been to such hellholes.
Finally, a city with good
food and deep bathtubs.
You take baths?
I enjoy a good soak.
- You have a problem with that?
- No.
- What's the mission?
- Surveillance.
We're tracking down a terrorist
controller named Hassan Ohana.
What? You know him?
We know his work.
Hezbollah controller.
Mass murderer.
This little vacation
just turned serious.
Paris, huh? Oui.
I booked the hotel arcole.
Same room as our honeymoon.
Maybe you could come stay
for a couple of days.
You really don't get the
concept of divorce, do you?
I had to ask.
It was pretty romantic,
though, wasn't it?
Our Parisian wedding?
You mean our elopement?
Wasn't the wedding I wanted.
The wedding
I wanted would have included
family, bridesmaids,
a wedding dress.
But no, we had to have
a secret wedding,
because you couldn't
have your picture taken
and be compromised.
You know, from
your tone, I'd say
you're probably not
coming to Paris.
No. Okay.
You know, how about...
I pick you up a bottle
of that perfume
you love so much?
Ooh, I'd love it.
What's it called? The perfume?
Yeah. Remind me.
Oh, I'd rather you remember.
I-I-I don't understand why
you're so upset about Paris.
It was our honeymoon.
We were head over heels in love.
It was the perfect week.
Well, that's one
version of the story.
I just don't get it.
No, you obviously don't.
Bye, Michael. Enjoy Paris.
Blanke. Me?
Yeah. What are you
doing on the bench?
This is my bench.
I'm stuck here; No
office, no department.
Well, it's depressing.
I am aware of that.
I'll tell you what. We're
heading overseas for a while.
- And you want me to come along.
- No.
Of course not. But...
you can use
our bullpen while we're gone.
Even my desk, if you like.
Hey. Thanks, man, this could
really be a break for me.
People see me at a
desk, doing stuff.
It could lead to something.
No problem.
But there is something I
need you to do for me.
Mm-hmm. You ever been married?
(Trilling)
Rick: Wow.
That's a hell of a signal.
Figured it would be a lot
harder to break into
their cell towers and
pick up chatter.
Michael: Probably because
we're not using
their cell towers.
The CIA has a handful
of secret towers
all over France.
All right! Who's hungry?
I certainly am.
Sorry, chum.
I don't get to eat?
Casey: You need to
monitor phone calls
and send them stateside
for analysis.
Michael: We each have our own
special skills, Martinez.
I lead, he charms people,
he hurts people,
and you translate.
We'll bring you a doggie bag.
Assuming there are
leftovers, which...
Is highly unlikely.
Yeah, I think I'm getting
the Ravioles Potag
I mean, if memory
serves, it's fantastic.
Just so flavorful.
But the duck is great, too.
Fay raved about it
during the honeymoon.
What?
Can we please be spared
reliving the halcyon days
of your failed marriage?
I'm just trying to
help you two order.
Casey: This isn't a
second honeymoon.
Hassan is still out there.
We're here to hunt a terrorist.
It's serious business.
Garçon.
Can we see a wine list?
French. English.
French.
Arabic.
It's a keeper.
Billy: Merci.
Bonsoir, mes vieux amis. Luc.
Been a long time. Luc: Yeah.
You wouldn't be here on
assignment, would you?
Us? No.
Just a vacation.
Oh, really?
Hmm.
Four CIA operatives on vacation.
Four operatives? Yes.
We know about your partner.
Where is he, by the way?
He's in his room.
He's been walloped by
the curse of jet lag.
Oh. Is that a fact?
Mm-hmm.
Vous pouvez procéder.
Man (French accent): We know
you are American spies.
Rick: Hey! Excuse me!
(Man speaking French)
Rick: What do you guys want?
Don't touch that!
(Man speaking French)
Shut up! Get the
hell out of here!
Luc: Hello?
(Speaking French)
Merci.
It would seem your colleague
has been caught with
what looks suspiciously like
eavesdropping equipment,
which now belongs to me.
Enjoy your vacation, gentlemen.
It will be my pleasure
watching your every move
while you appreciate
the beauty of Paris.
But I offer this warning:
No more spying.
I would hate to see
you all behind bars.
Bon appétit.
- So anything? - Actually, yes.
We got a hit from the calls we got a
voice match, and we're giving it to NSA.
We also got a trace from
our cell tower in Paris.
You got an address?
626 Boulevard Jourdan.
Got it. Well, that's where
the good news ends.
These French have shut
down our surveillance
and are camped right
outside our hotel.
Yeah, it's not sunny
this side, either.
The French have already
filed a formal complaint.
Of course they have.
Michael: I want to check
out the NSA address,
but first we need
to shake our tail.
I just want to know who let
them know we were coming.
Billy and Casey: Cocktail Barry.
Cocktail Barry?
He's a lower level diplomat
working for the CIA,
and he's been assigned to
the embassy here in Paris.
He... he goes to lots
of cocktail parties
and listens to conversations.
We need to find out if cocktail
Barry's been compromised.
Casey: I resent his
very existence.
Now, now, Casey, every
man has his niche.
We look for intel under rocks.
He looks under champagne flutes.
Look alive, Luc.
Your targets are on the move.
I need you to get to Paris.
Go see the ambassador.
Assure him our spying
is just conjecture
and doesn't need to become
a political football.
Hold his hand.
Tell him it's going to be okay.
I'll be on the red-eye tonight.
One other thing I need you
to do while you're there.
I'd like you to swap out
Operative Martinez's cell phone.
Excuse me?
You've had one primary task,
and that is to figure out a
way to use Operative Martinez
to help me get
information on the ODS.
Yet that has been
slow in coming.
Well, the mission was
to win him over.
Isn't that about
hearts and minds?
Mm. Hearts and minds.
Two things that can become
cloudy and confused.
I need information.
Crystal clear information.
Calls, e-mails, texts.
This is an exact
duplicate of his phone.
You are to switch it out
with the one he has. Got it?
I-I-I do, but I'm not sure
if the opportunity
will present itself.
I hired you because
you're intelligent and...
capable.
I have every faith that you
can create that opportunity.
♪ ♪
There's our man.
Sometimes I think we're on the
wrong end of the spy game.
And so we're all
just standing there,
and it's a little
more than awkward.
So, finally, I say,
"excuse me, minister.
"You don't have to
apologize for my jacket,
but your parakeet better
start explaining."
(Laughter)
Hello, Barry.
A word?
Excuse me.
Are you insane?
Waltzing in here and talking to
me out in the open like that?
Yeah, unfortunately,
the stealthier option
has been removed from
the table, Barry.
We're looking for
a terrorist here.
French intelligence
has been following us
since we got to Paris.
Oh, and you led them here.
Are you deliberately trying
to destroy my career?
Don't you get it, Barry?
Your career in France is over.
You were the only
person in this country
with advance knowledge
of our arrival.
Maybe you let something slip
over a bottle of cab sauv.
You know, a little pillow talk.
I understand why you
want to brag about us.
It's-it's kind of like being
mates with the four tops.
I haven't said a word.
Well, then, the French
are spying on you.
Either way, you're just
as blown as we are.
That's impossible.
(Chuckles) Impossible?
Well, we and the man
watching this building
from across the street
would beg to differ.
You don't understand.
I've dedicated 15
years of my life
to fix the shattered alliance
between the United States
and French intelligence
communities.
And you cannot imagine
how grateful we are,
but while you've been
playing grab-ass
and making froggy friends,
you forgot the fact that you're
here to spy on these people.
Ugh. Listen to you.
You need to ditch
the cold war
philosophies, gentlemen.
Let's try some progressive
thinking here, huh?
(Clicks tongue)
In today's world,
the United States needs as
many allies as it can get.
And, thanks to me,
the French are our friends.
And friends don't
spy on friends.
Is that so?
What are you doing?
Oh, my God!
Do you know how
expensive that is?!
My bust!
No! Stop it!
No!
No! No...! Don't...!
Ah.
There's our bug.
(Clucking tongue)
What does this say about
friendship to you?
Billy: I'll tell you what it says...
one minute, the French
are shaking your hand;
Then, as soon as you
turn your back, it's
full-on buggery.
Just like that, they...
They've ruined me.
I'm done.
Mm. Almost.
You can still be a spy, Barry...
A real spy...
For 15 more minutes.
You a good driver, Barry?
I mean, a really good driver.
I'm so sorry.
My accelerator must
have become stuck.
Morning.
(Sighs)
Fay. How are you?
Good. You?
Great. Busy.
Working.
Ah. At a desk.
Good.
(Sniffs) Wow.
What?
Oh, it's nothing. It's just...
Are you wearing perfume?
(Sniffs) Mmm.
(French accent):
Smells like Paris.
What's that brand?
You can tell Michael
that I am insulted
that he thought I'd
fall for this.
(Chuckling): What? Michael?
No, I... I just think you
have an alluring scent.
You know, I'm pretty
sure that statement
falls under sexual harassment.
Okay. I'm sorry.
Please don't report me.
I already have two strikes.
All right, should be
right here on the left.
Unbelievable.
NSA can pinpoint it
right to the apartment.
We have satellites that can tell
if the part in your
hair is crooked.
Casey: No sign of Hassan.
Hope you guys are
up on your shots.
This place is a pigsty.
Looks like a jihadi sleepover.
Anybody smell bleach?
Guys.
Uh-huh.
Bleach kills the memory card
and erases any fingerprints.
(Door opening) I guess
we found Hassan.
(Clattering)
(Speaking Arabic)
What's he saying?
He wants to know who we are.
Tell him we're his
professional dishwashers.
God knows he needs them.
(Gun cocks) (Shouting in Arabic)
He wants us to come out.
Tell him not to shoot.
(Speaks Arabic)
(Bullets ricocheting)
He's reloading.
In a second, he's
going to realize
that we aren't shooting back.
How are your knife
throwing skills?
I'm more of a stabber
than a thrower.
(Gun cocks)
What is he doing?
(Michael yelling)
Billy: I think he's dead.
I didn't hit him that hard.
It wasn't the door that got him.
Ricochet, obviously.
(Sirens blaring in distance)
Casey: Are we staying
or are we going?
This isn't Hassan;
It's just a kid.
Well, it's a kid who
wanted to kill us.
You know, Hassan, like most
controllers, is a loner.
The guys staying here
aren't houseguests.
Must be a terror cell.
Working with Hassan.
Hell-bent on targeting
Americans in Paris.
Which paints a bloody great
bull's-eye on the U.S. embassy.
I repeat the question... are
we staying or are we going?
We need help.
We need the French.
(Sighs) We stay.
With a suspicious dead body?
Interesting choice.
(Sirens blaring)
Et ils se moquent des
forces françaises.
Alors tu les ammènes à l'hôtel,
et tu les escortes à l'aéroport.
Immédiatement. Allez.
Ça va?
- I've been ordered to
take you to your hotel
where you will pack your bags
and be escorted to the airport
immediately.
- The mission isn't complete.
- Hassan is still out there.
- Hassan is dead.
It wasn't Hassan in there.
That was just some kid.
Based on our voice analysis,
Hassan is at least in his 40s.
Share that with
your supervisors.
My supervisors? But my
supervisors think I am an idiot
because of that stunt you pulled
on me in front of the embassy.
So... thank you for that.
The kid heard us in the kitchen.
He knew we were there,
so why didn't he just run away?
Because he wanted to kill you.
Oh. Controllers don't kill, Luc.
They leave their dirty
work to others.
Exactly. The real controller...
The real Hassan...
would have ran,
but that kid stayed
and fought back. Why?
Maybe to stop us.
We were getting too close.
Too close to finding something.
Something in that apartment.
That is why... The
mission is over!
You Americans... (Sighs)
You think you are cowboys.
You rush in, guns blazing...
God bless America... and
then you just walk away
and leave your mess for
someone else to clean up.
Easy, Luc.
No, no, this is not America,
this is my country.
And now it is my mess.
How am I supposed to get my
kids to soccer practice?
I'm sorry?
Yeah. That was my wife's
car you destroyed.
I just paid it off.
So who's going to bring my
kids to school now? Hmm?
How am I supposed to
get to the market?
I'm not James Bond. I don't get
a new Aston Martin
with every mission.
You ever think about
that, you cowboys?
Luc.
You're right.
Sometimes we can get a
bit overly exuberant.
The fact is, we're not
James Bond either.
Billy and I carpool to work
in my ten-year-old Taurus,
Martinez's car has
manual windows, and...
Well, not exactly sure how
Malick gets to the office.
He just kind of appears.
But, look, whatever's going
on between our governments,
whatever political bad blood
we're all choking on,
it doesn't have a damn
thing to do with us.
Not with the guys
in the trenches,
trying to do the best we can
with the crap that they give us.
But let me tell you
something, Luc.
At the end of the day,
it doesn't matter what
flag we're waving
or whose bureaucratic
ass we're kissing,
we both want the same thing.
And we're sorry about your car.
(Sighs)
- You sure Hassan is still out there?
- Yes.
And whatever that kid was
hiding in the apartment
could lead us to him.
So, come on, Luc.
They're not gonna look
for him, but we can.
Antiterrorism is in
charge of the case.
It's out of my hands.
They will be investigating
his apartment
for at least another two hours.
I'll pick you up in three.
I recommend you get
something to eat.
Could be a very long night.
(Knocking on door)
Wha...?
Deputy director.
What are you doing here?
Well, I came all the way
to Paris to tell you...
Yes.
I'll go out with you.
Actually, I was here anyway,
but the answer is
still the same.
(Sighs)
The thing is, I already
made plans with the guys.
Oh.
Well, will any of them
be dressed like this?
Let me make a phone call.
(Dialing)
So, where did you go to college?
No.
You didn't go to college?
No, meaning I refuse to
answer that question.
We're on our first date.
(Whispers): In Paris.
No one knows us here.
Except the various people
you have trailing you.
I say let's step it up.
No college talk, no talk
about smothering parents
or favorite books or
unrealized life dreams.
It's all just filler...
Till we get to the good stuff.
Let's get to the good stuff.
Would you like me to start?
Sure.
I'm... spontaneous.
I'm silly, sometimes.
I like a good laugh
and a great kiss.
And I'm quite confident that
if we were to have sex,
it would blow...
Your... mind.
(Clears throat)
Wow.
It's your turn.
Wow me.
Okay.
Wait, you gonna
tell me a secret?
No.
I could work with that.
Give me your phone.
I'm gonna give you my
personal cell number.
(Keypad beeping)
Are you gonna take my calls?
No.
But you can try.
(Both chuckle softly)
(Sighs)
There's nothing here.
What did you expect to find?
A diary with his plans?
O ye of little faith, Luc.
(Scoffs)
Hello there.
(Guitar playing blues quietly)
♪ Oh, sweet baby Luc ♪
♪ you ain't got a clue ♪
Can you stop that?
Michael, we're
supposed to work here.
♪ 'Cause I got the why
does a radical Muslim ♪
♪ fundamentalist have a
guitar in his room? ♪
♪ Blues ♪
Because they use it for storage.
Work visas.
Nice work, townsend.
The visas the ODS found
in Ohana's apartment
belonged to a group of men
who are part of a
Hezbollah terror cell.
Circling our embassy, no doubt.
We believe this man
is Hassan Ohana.
Real name: Qaudir Ben Ali.
(Knocking)
Sir, the teleconference
is set up.
This is fantastic.
Have we shared all
this with the French?
Yes. And we have the NSA
figuring out coordinates.
Sharing intel with our
allies, working together.
We can have a tactical victory
and a political one.
Director Renard.
I understand you have in your
possession the intelligence
my and your
operatives collected?
Yes.
Based on the documents
you've given us,
we can use cell towers to
triangulate their calls
and confirm their location.
Splendid.
There is one problem.
Our cell towers are down.
Might it be possible
to borrow yours?
Well, wouldn't that presume that
we have cell towers in Paris?
It most certainly would.
I would be most
happy to give you
the coordinates to
our cell towers.
(Indistinct radio transmissions)
Luc: They believe Hassan is
in one of the apartments
on the second floor.
Okay, so please don't tell
me your plan is to bash down
every door on the second floor.
Of course not.
Terrorists like Hassan...
They hear we are near,
they blow themselves up,
along with anyone
else in the building.
Tous au deuxième.
This, this is an EMP pulsator.
Allez-y.
It fires a high-frequency
radio burst that
burns out... It disables all
cell phones and detonators
within a small radius.
We know, we invented it.
No, no, no, no.
The French invented them.
Billy: Who bloody cares?
We have one.
So you take out Hassan's
detonators, cell phones...
No explosions. Good plan.
Vive la France.
Let's get on with it. (Man
speaking French over radio)
Okay... Attendez mon signal.
(Beeping)
Allez-y.
(Beeping) Man (Over radio): Now.
(Device whirring)
(Loud whooshing,
electrical crackling)
(Indistinct radio transmission)
That... was not
supposed to happen.
Actually, I think the
French did invent it.
(Indistinct radio transmission)
Luc, what the hell
are your guys doing?
Falling back.
With no lights, the crowd...
It's too-too dangerous to go in.
What is it with you people
always surrendering?
(People murmuring)
All right, let's split up.
Billy!
(Panting)
(Woman cries out)
(Grunts)
(Woman speaks indistinctly)
(Grunts)
No time for thinking, son.
(Grunting)
(Yells)
Ooh.
(Groans)
(Grunts)
Are you good?
Actually, I'm in a
great deal of pain.
Go!
(Groaning): Ooh.
(Siren wailing in distance)
(Clattering)
(Panting)
(Clattering)
(Gate rattles)
(Gunshots)
(Thudding on floor)
(Grunts)
(Helicopter blades whirring)
Nice takedown.
High praise from the master.
America, here you are,
basking in the afterglow
of a job well done.
Thanks, Luc, for everything.
Casey: You guys were
actually somewhat helpful.
Well, our mission has
been accomplished,
and finally, we showed the world
that the French and the
American can work together.
I'm Scottish.
Luc, it's great
working with you on this one.
Someone else might not
have been as generous.
I'm glad to work with
the ODS, Michael.
You know what?
I have no more doubts.
You are the most intelligent...
Brave...
Strong...
And handsome agents the
states has to offer.
Please distribute those
compliments among yourselves.
(Chuckles) Bon voyage!
Welcome back, Miss Ferrer.
And congratulations
on a job well done.
That's very kind
of you, sir, but I
really didn't do much.
Oh, it's not how much you do,
it's that you do your part well.
The CIA is a vast machine
that depends on each cog
turning in unison with the next.
Hassan has been put
out of commission,
our relations with the
French are better than ever.
Yes, sir, I'd have to say
that this entire affair has
been an unqualified success.
It is unqualified,
isn't it, Miss Ferrer?
I swapped out Martinez's
phone as you asked.
So, the next time
the ODS decides
to fly under the radar,
I'll be flying with them.
Yes, siree, this has
been one sweet day.
Michael: All right, proud
patriots, you know the drill.
Check everything in your bags:
Electronics, shoes, toiletries.
Toiletries? Seriously?
The French have no boundaries
when it comes to bugging
our intimate regions.
I once found a microphone
in my man groomer.
Security already scanned
all of this stuff.
If I know Luc, he went
above and beyond,
which is why we are gonna go
above standard
operating procedure.
It doesn't bother you that
Luc might have bugged us?
Bother us? Martinez,
Luc is a spy.
A sweeter man, you will not
meet, but a spy nonetheless,
as are we.
Which is why I would be offended
if he didn't bug us.
Particularly after
we bugged him.
(Scanner beeping)
I think we got
ourselves a winner.
Martinez,
your cell phone's been bugged.
You've been officially initiated
into the spy versus spy game.
(Electrical buzzing)
Hey.
Oh. How was Paris?
Successful mission,
but I did miss you.
Yeah, sure.
No, I did.
You remembered.
Not exactly, but I remembered
the dinner at the hotel
our first night.
You came in in the most
devastating dress.
The one that we bought at the
local designer shop that day.
I mean, it didn't look
that good in the window...
I can tell you that much...
But it was blue, deep blue,
and I was... I was gone.
And then you remembered
the perfume.
Oh, no, no. I dug the
dress out of storage
and had it tested in the lab to
determine the perfume on it.
The lab.
How romantic.
Mmm.
Thank you.
All right.
Well done back there in Paris.
The ODS are good.
All that tooting
their own horns...
Apparently, it's justified.
Um...
Um...
What's wrong?
I don't think this...
us... will work.
What? Why?
Do you want me to be honest?
Yes.
You see? There's the problem.
I'm not a very honest person.
In fact, I'm not very
trustworthy either.
Look, I know who I am,
and I am a person
who does what's best for me
before everything else,
including the truth.
I'm not easily chased off.
I would just chew you
up and spit you out.
Oh, yeah?
I might surprise you.
I might just bite back.
No, I'm sorry.
Oh.
Oh, okay.
Uh... yeah. Well...
(Cell phone beeping)
I'm sorry, too.
Is that a new phone?
Uh, yeah. The French
bugged my other one.
Can you believe it?
What did you do with it?
The old phone? Yeah.
Destroyed it.
Good.
Mr. Martinez, I wasn't done
with this conversation.
(Car alarm chirps)
(Car alarm chirping repeatedly)
♪ Wham! Bam! Mon chat splash,
git sur mon lit a bouffé ♪
♪ sa langue en buvant
dans mon whisky ♪
♪ quant a moi peu...
♪ (Adele gasps)
Rick: Oh! Sorry.
(Still playing Ça
plane pour moi)
Let me be the first to
welcome you to the CIA.
And this is the story of
America's great house of spies.
Fay: You've heard
of office politics?
Ours come with poison
pills and guns.
Adele: Spy trap.
I knew this was going
to be a fiasco.
I've been assigned to a
special covert unit,
conceived to go
where others can't,
and to do what others won't,
whether the mission's
authorized or not.
We each have our own
special skill, Martinez.
I lead, Billy charms people,
Casey hurts people,
and you translate.
We are the ODS, last of
the old-school spies.
(Car alarm chirps)
(Alarm chirps twice)
(Alarm chirping)
(Alarm chirps three times)
(Screams) Oh!
- Oh, my God!
- Oh! Oh, my God! I'm so sorry!
No, it's, it's okay, I, um...
I spilled coffee
all over my suit.
Luckily I brought a
change of clothes
for a reception tonight.
I wasn't looking.
You're not leaving, either.
I'm sorry. I'll, I'll go.
No, it's okay.
I'm done.
Wow.
Yeah, it's, uh...
Not really appropriate for work,
but it's better than wearing
a triple latte all day.
(Clears throat)
So this reception...
You wouldn't happen
to have a date?
Would you?
Mr. Martinez, are
you asking me out?
That kinda depends
on your answer.
If it's a no, then
I was just joking.
Is that really how you
would ask me out?
By backing into it?
Oh, Mr. Martinez. Be bold.
You know, if someone wants
me, I'd like to know.
I'd like someone to
say, "I like you,"
or "I want to be with you.
Let's start with dinner."
Okay.
I do like you. And I do
want to be with you.
Dinner, sometime.
No, no. No. No.
Dinner. Tonight.
Let me think about it.
I'll get back to you.
Billy: Morning, Martinez.
You're late for
the meeting in the
conference room.
What? I didn't know
we had a meeting.
Why would you? You
weren't invited.
Somebody clue me in.
Michael: Fay said they'd
need an Arabic translator
for the morning
briefing with Higgins.
The regular guy has
food poisoning.
Which is what happens
when you leave
your breakfast burrito
unattended in the break room.
Did you poison him?
That's neither here nor there.
What's important is,
they are planning
an operation for Paris.
And we love Paris.
You know, fay and I got married there.
We eloped.
We're all painfully
familiar with this story.
Rick: What's the operation?
Does it matter? It's in Paris.
Now get in there.
Can I help you, Mr. Martinez?
I... You sent for a translator?
What happened to
Operative Griffith?
I don't know.
(Man speaking Arabic)
Rick: "Are you ready to
sacrifice everything to Allah?"
(Second man speaking Arabic)
"Yes, but I want to
return to Beirut
to see my children first."
(Man speaking Arabic)
"You will see them
next in heaven,
next to Imam
Khomeini and Allah."
Beirut, Khomeini...
It's Hezbollah.
Which means Hassan Ohana.
- Who is he? - The man who
coordinated the suicide bombings
in Tel Aviv last month.
Killed seven Americans.
Fay: Hassan is the voice
you've been translating,
telling the bomber to
detonate himself.
And you traced the
calls to Paris.
We believe he's hiding there.
Higgins: Let's activate a team.
Surveillance only.
I want to know with certainty,
Ohana is operating out of Paris,
before we turn our info
over to the French.
I'd like to volunteer
the ODS, sir.
(Sighs)
This is a delicate operation.
The French distrust us.
In fact, there's been zero
cooperation between our agencies
since '95, which is when we
shut down our field office
in Paris because
they accused us of
spying in their backyard.
Were we?
Does it matter?
What matters is that
French intelligence can never
know that we're there.
Sir,
you of all people know
how good the ODS is
at flying under the radar.
I strongly suggest that you
take this under consideration.
Pat me on the back, gentlemen.
I just got us a trip to Paris.
Great!
Our last two missions have
been to such hellholes.
Finally, a city with good
food and deep bathtubs.
You take baths?
I enjoy a good soak.
- You have a problem with that?
- No.
- What's the mission?
- Surveillance.
We're tracking down a terrorist
controller named Hassan Ohana.
What? You know him?
We know his work.
Hezbollah controller.
Mass murderer.
This little vacation
just turned serious.
Paris, huh? Oui.
I booked the hotel arcole.
Same room as our honeymoon.
Maybe you could come stay
for a couple of days.
You really don't get the
concept of divorce, do you?
I had to ask.
It was pretty romantic,
though, wasn't it?
Our Parisian wedding?
You mean our elopement?
Wasn't the wedding I wanted.
The wedding
I wanted would have included
family, bridesmaids,
a wedding dress.
But no, we had to have
a secret wedding,
because you couldn't
have your picture taken
and be compromised.
You know, from
your tone, I'd say
you're probably not
coming to Paris.
No. Okay.
You know, how about...
I pick you up a bottle
of that perfume
you love so much?
Ooh, I'd love it.
What's it called? The perfume?
Yeah. Remind me.
Oh, I'd rather you remember.
I-I-I don't understand why
you're so upset about Paris.
It was our honeymoon.
We were head over heels in love.
It was the perfect week.
Well, that's one
version of the story.
I just don't get it.
No, you obviously don't.
Bye, Michael. Enjoy Paris.
Blanke. Me?
Yeah. What are you
doing on the bench?
This is my bench.
I'm stuck here; No
office, no department.
Well, it's depressing.
I am aware of that.
I'll tell you what. We're
heading overseas for a while.
- And you want me to come along.
- No.
Of course not. But...
you can use
our bullpen while we're gone.
Even my desk, if you like.
Hey. Thanks, man, this could
really be a break for me.
People see me at a
desk, doing stuff.
It could lead to something.
No problem.
But there is something I
need you to do for me.
Mm-hmm. You ever been married?
(Trilling)
Rick: Wow.
That's a hell of a signal.
Figured it would be a lot
harder to break into
their cell towers and
pick up chatter.
Michael: Probably because
we're not using
their cell towers.
The CIA has a handful
of secret towers
all over France.
All right! Who's hungry?
I certainly am.
Sorry, chum.
I don't get to eat?
Casey: You need to
monitor phone calls
and send them stateside
for analysis.
Michael: We each have our own
special skills, Martinez.
I lead, he charms people,
he hurts people,
and you translate.
We'll bring you a doggie bag.
Assuming there are
leftovers, which...
Is highly unlikely.
Yeah, I think I'm getting
the Ravioles Potag
I mean, if memory
serves, it's fantastic.
Just so flavorful.
But the duck is great, too.
Fay raved about it
during the honeymoon.
What?
Can we please be spared
reliving the halcyon days
of your failed marriage?
I'm just trying to
help you two order.
Casey: This isn't a
second honeymoon.
Hassan is still out there.
We're here to hunt a terrorist.
It's serious business.
Garçon.
Can we see a wine list?
French. English.
French.
Arabic.
It's a keeper.
Billy: Merci.
Bonsoir, mes vieux amis. Luc.
Been a long time. Luc: Yeah.
You wouldn't be here on
assignment, would you?
Us? No.
Just a vacation.
Oh, really?
Hmm.
Four CIA operatives on vacation.
Four operatives? Yes.
We know about your partner.
Where is he, by the way?
He's in his room.
He's been walloped by
the curse of jet lag.
Oh. Is that a fact?
Mm-hmm.
Vous pouvez procéder.
Man (French accent): We know
you are American spies.
Rick: Hey! Excuse me!
(Man speaking French)
Rick: What do you guys want?
Don't touch that!
(Man speaking French)
Shut up! Get the
hell out of here!
Luc: Hello?
(Speaking French)
Merci.
It would seem your colleague
has been caught with
what looks suspiciously like
eavesdropping equipment,
which now belongs to me.
Enjoy your vacation, gentlemen.
It will be my pleasure
watching your every move
while you appreciate
the beauty of Paris.
But I offer this warning:
No more spying.
I would hate to see
you all behind bars.
Bon appétit.
- So anything? - Actually, yes.
We got a hit from the calls we got a
voice match, and we're giving it to NSA.
We also got a trace from
our cell tower in Paris.
You got an address?
626 Boulevard Jourdan.
Got it. Well, that's where
the good news ends.
These French have shut
down our surveillance
and are camped right
outside our hotel.
Yeah, it's not sunny
this side, either.
The French have already
filed a formal complaint.
Of course they have.
Michael: I want to check
out the NSA address,
but first we need
to shake our tail.
I just want to know who let
them know we were coming.
Billy and Casey: Cocktail Barry.
Cocktail Barry?
He's a lower level diplomat
working for the CIA,
and he's been assigned to
the embassy here in Paris.
He... he goes to lots
of cocktail parties
and listens to conversations.
We need to find out if cocktail
Barry's been compromised.
Casey: I resent his
very existence.
Now, now, Casey, every
man has his niche.
We look for intel under rocks.
He looks under champagne flutes.
Look alive, Luc.
Your targets are on the move.
I need you to get to Paris.
Go see the ambassador.
Assure him our spying
is just conjecture
and doesn't need to become
a political football.
Hold his hand.
Tell him it's going to be okay.
I'll be on the red-eye tonight.
One other thing I need you
to do while you're there.
I'd like you to swap out
Operative Martinez's cell phone.
Excuse me?
You've had one primary task,
and that is to figure out a
way to use Operative Martinez
to help me get
information on the ODS.
Yet that has been
slow in coming.
Well, the mission was
to win him over.
Isn't that about
hearts and minds?
Mm. Hearts and minds.
Two things that can become
cloudy and confused.
I need information.
Crystal clear information.
Calls, e-mails, texts.
This is an exact
duplicate of his phone.
You are to switch it out
with the one he has. Got it?
I-I-I do, but I'm not sure
if the opportunity
will present itself.
I hired you because
you're intelligent and...
capable.
I have every faith that you
can create that opportunity.
♪ ♪
There's our man.
Sometimes I think we're on the
wrong end of the spy game.
And so we're all
just standing there,
and it's a little
more than awkward.
So, finally, I say,
"excuse me, minister.
"You don't have to
apologize for my jacket,
but your parakeet better
start explaining."
(Laughter)
Hello, Barry.
A word?
Excuse me.
Are you insane?
Waltzing in here and talking to
me out in the open like that?
Yeah, unfortunately,
the stealthier option
has been removed from
the table, Barry.
We're looking for
a terrorist here.
French intelligence
has been following us
since we got to Paris.
Oh, and you led them here.
Are you deliberately trying
to destroy my career?
Don't you get it, Barry?
Your career in France is over.
You were the only
person in this country
with advance knowledge
of our arrival.
Maybe you let something slip
over a bottle of cab sauv.
You know, a little pillow talk.
I understand why you
want to brag about us.
It's-it's kind of like being
mates with the four tops.
I haven't said a word.
Well, then, the French
are spying on you.
Either way, you're just
as blown as we are.
That's impossible.
(Chuckles) Impossible?
Well, we and the man
watching this building
from across the street
would beg to differ.
You don't understand.
I've dedicated 15
years of my life
to fix the shattered alliance
between the United States
and French intelligence
communities.
And you cannot imagine
how grateful we are,
but while you've been
playing grab-ass
and making froggy friends,
you forgot the fact that you're
here to spy on these people.
Ugh. Listen to you.
You need to ditch
the cold war
philosophies, gentlemen.
Let's try some progressive
thinking here, huh?
(Clicks tongue)
In today's world,
the United States needs as
many allies as it can get.
And, thanks to me,
the French are our friends.
And friends don't
spy on friends.
Is that so?
What are you doing?
Oh, my God!
Do you know how
expensive that is?!
My bust!
No! Stop it!
No!
No! No...! Don't...!
Ah.
There's our bug.
(Clucking tongue)
What does this say about
friendship to you?
Billy: I'll tell you what it says...
one minute, the French
are shaking your hand;
Then, as soon as you
turn your back, it's
full-on buggery.
Just like that, they...
They've ruined me.
I'm done.
Mm. Almost.
You can still be a spy, Barry...
A real spy...
For 15 more minutes.
You a good driver, Barry?
I mean, a really good driver.
I'm so sorry.
My accelerator must
have become stuck.
Morning.
(Sighs)
Fay. How are you?
Good. You?
Great. Busy.
Working.
Ah. At a desk.
Good.
(Sniffs) Wow.
What?
Oh, it's nothing. It's just...
Are you wearing perfume?
(Sniffs) Mmm.
(French accent):
Smells like Paris.
What's that brand?
You can tell Michael
that I am insulted
that he thought I'd
fall for this.
(Chuckling): What? Michael?
No, I... I just think you
have an alluring scent.
You know, I'm pretty
sure that statement
falls under sexual harassment.
Okay. I'm sorry.
Please don't report me.
I already have two strikes.
All right, should be
right here on the left.
Unbelievable.
NSA can pinpoint it
right to the apartment.
We have satellites that can tell
if the part in your
hair is crooked.
Casey: No sign of Hassan.
Hope you guys are
up on your shots.
This place is a pigsty.
Looks like a jihadi sleepover.
Anybody smell bleach?
Guys.
Uh-huh.
Bleach kills the memory card
and erases any fingerprints.
(Door opening) I guess
we found Hassan.
(Clattering)
(Speaking Arabic)
What's he saying?
He wants to know who we are.
Tell him we're his
professional dishwashers.
God knows he needs them.
(Gun cocks) (Shouting in Arabic)
He wants us to come out.
Tell him not to shoot.
(Speaks Arabic)
(Bullets ricocheting)
He's reloading.
In a second, he's
going to realize
that we aren't shooting back.
How are your knife
throwing skills?
I'm more of a stabber
than a thrower.
(Gun cocks)
What is he doing?
(Michael yelling)
Billy: I think he's dead.
I didn't hit him that hard.
It wasn't the door that got him.
Ricochet, obviously.
(Sirens blaring in distance)
Casey: Are we staying
or are we going?
This isn't Hassan;
It's just a kid.
Well, it's a kid who
wanted to kill us.
You know, Hassan, like most
controllers, is a loner.
The guys staying here
aren't houseguests.
Must be a terror cell.
Working with Hassan.
Hell-bent on targeting
Americans in Paris.
Which paints a bloody great
bull's-eye on the U.S. embassy.
I repeat the question... are
we staying or are we going?
We need help.
We need the French.
(Sighs) We stay.
With a suspicious dead body?
Interesting choice.
(Sirens blaring)
Et ils se moquent des
forces françaises.
Alors tu les ammènes à l'hôtel,
et tu les escortes à l'aéroport.
Immédiatement. Allez.
Ça va?
- I've been ordered to
take you to your hotel
where you will pack your bags
and be escorted to the airport
immediately.
- The mission isn't complete.
- Hassan is still out there.
- Hassan is dead.
It wasn't Hassan in there.
That was just some kid.
Based on our voice analysis,
Hassan is at least in his 40s.
Share that with
your supervisors.
My supervisors? But my
supervisors think I am an idiot
because of that stunt you pulled
on me in front of the embassy.
So... thank you for that.
The kid heard us in the kitchen.
He knew we were there,
so why didn't he just run away?
Because he wanted to kill you.
Oh. Controllers don't kill, Luc.
They leave their dirty
work to others.
Exactly. The real controller...
The real Hassan...
would have ran,
but that kid stayed
and fought back. Why?
Maybe to stop us.
We were getting too close.
Too close to finding something.
Something in that apartment.
That is why... The
mission is over!
You Americans... (Sighs)
You think you are cowboys.
You rush in, guns blazing...
God bless America... and
then you just walk away
and leave your mess for
someone else to clean up.
Easy, Luc.
No, no, this is not America,
this is my country.
And now it is my mess.
How am I supposed to get my
kids to soccer practice?
I'm sorry?
Yeah. That was my wife's
car you destroyed.
I just paid it off.
So who's going to bring my
kids to school now? Hmm?
How am I supposed to
get to the market?
I'm not James Bond. I don't get
a new Aston Martin
with every mission.
You ever think about
that, you cowboys?
Luc.
You're right.
Sometimes we can get a
bit overly exuberant.
The fact is, we're not
James Bond either.
Billy and I carpool to work
in my ten-year-old Taurus,
Martinez's car has
manual windows, and...
Well, not exactly sure how
Malick gets to the office.
He just kind of appears.
But, look, whatever's going
on between our governments,
whatever political bad blood
we're all choking on,
it doesn't have a damn
thing to do with us.
Not with the guys
in the trenches,
trying to do the best we can
with the crap that they give us.
But let me tell you
something, Luc.
At the end of the day,
it doesn't matter what
flag we're waving
or whose bureaucratic
ass we're kissing,
we both want the same thing.
And we're sorry about your car.
(Sighs)
- You sure Hassan is still out there?
- Yes.
And whatever that kid was
hiding in the apartment
could lead us to him.
So, come on, Luc.
They're not gonna look
for him, but we can.
Antiterrorism is in
charge of the case.
It's out of my hands.
They will be investigating
his apartment
for at least another two hours.
I'll pick you up in three.
I recommend you get
something to eat.
Could be a very long night.
(Knocking on door)
Wha...?
Deputy director.
What are you doing here?
Well, I came all the way
to Paris to tell you...
Yes.
I'll go out with you.
Actually, I was here anyway,
but the answer is
still the same.
(Sighs)
The thing is, I already
made plans with the guys.
Oh.
Well, will any of them
be dressed like this?
Let me make a phone call.
(Dialing)
So, where did you go to college?
No.
You didn't go to college?
No, meaning I refuse to
answer that question.
We're on our first date.
(Whispers): In Paris.
No one knows us here.
Except the various people
you have trailing you.
I say let's step it up.
No college talk, no talk
about smothering parents
or favorite books or
unrealized life dreams.
It's all just filler...
Till we get to the good stuff.
Let's get to the good stuff.
Would you like me to start?
Sure.
I'm... spontaneous.
I'm silly, sometimes.
I like a good laugh
and a great kiss.
And I'm quite confident that
if we were to have sex,
it would blow...
Your... mind.
(Clears throat)
Wow.
It's your turn.
Wow me.
Okay.
Wait, you gonna
tell me a secret?
No.
I could work with that.
Give me your phone.
I'm gonna give you my
personal cell number.
(Keypad beeping)
Are you gonna take my calls?
No.
But you can try.
(Both chuckle softly)
(Sighs)
There's nothing here.
What did you expect to find?
A diary with his plans?
O ye of little faith, Luc.
(Scoffs)
Hello there.
(Guitar playing blues quietly)
♪ Oh, sweet baby Luc ♪
♪ you ain't got a clue ♪
Can you stop that?
Michael, we're
supposed to work here.
♪ 'Cause I got the why
does a radical Muslim ♪
♪ fundamentalist have a
guitar in his room? ♪
♪ Blues ♪
Because they use it for storage.
Work visas.
Nice work, townsend.
The visas the ODS found
in Ohana's apartment
belonged to a group of men
who are part of a
Hezbollah terror cell.
Circling our embassy, no doubt.
We believe this man
is Hassan Ohana.
Real name: Qaudir Ben Ali.
(Knocking)
Sir, the teleconference
is set up.
This is fantastic.
Have we shared all
this with the French?
Yes. And we have the NSA
figuring out coordinates.
Sharing intel with our
allies, working together.
We can have a tactical victory
and a political one.
Director Renard.
I understand you have in your
possession the intelligence
my and your
operatives collected?
Yes.
Based on the documents
you've given us,
we can use cell towers to
triangulate their calls
and confirm their location.
Splendid.
There is one problem.
Our cell towers are down.
Might it be possible
to borrow yours?
Well, wouldn't that presume that
we have cell towers in Paris?
It most certainly would.
I would be most
happy to give you
the coordinates to
our cell towers.
(Indistinct radio transmissions)
Luc: They believe Hassan is
in one of the apartments
on the second floor.
Okay, so please don't tell
me your plan is to bash down
every door on the second floor.
Of course not.
Terrorists like Hassan...
They hear we are near,
they blow themselves up,
along with anyone
else in the building.
Tous au deuxième.
This, this is an EMP pulsator.
Allez-y.
It fires a high-frequency
radio burst that
burns out... It disables all
cell phones and detonators
within a small radius.
We know, we invented it.
No, no, no, no.
The French invented them.
Billy: Who bloody cares?
We have one.
So you take out Hassan's
detonators, cell phones...
No explosions. Good plan.
Vive la France.
Let's get on with it. (Man
speaking French over radio)
Okay... Attendez mon signal.
(Beeping)
Allez-y.
(Beeping) Man (Over radio): Now.
(Device whirring)
(Loud whooshing,
electrical crackling)
(Indistinct radio transmission)
That... was not
supposed to happen.
Actually, I think the
French did invent it.
(Indistinct radio transmission)
Luc, what the hell
are your guys doing?
Falling back.
With no lights, the crowd...
It's too-too dangerous to go in.
What is it with you people
always surrendering?
(People murmuring)
All right, let's split up.
Billy!
(Panting)
(Woman cries out)
(Grunts)
(Woman speaks indistinctly)
(Grunts)
No time for thinking, son.
(Grunting)
(Yells)
Ooh.
(Groans)
(Grunts)
Are you good?
Actually, I'm in a
great deal of pain.
Go!
(Groaning): Ooh.
(Siren wailing in distance)
(Clattering)
(Panting)
(Clattering)
(Gate rattles)
(Gunshots)
(Thudding on floor)
(Grunts)
(Helicopter blades whirring)
Nice takedown.
High praise from the master.
America, here you are,
basking in the afterglow
of a job well done.
Thanks, Luc, for everything.
Casey: You guys were
actually somewhat helpful.
Well, our mission has
been accomplished,
and finally, we showed the world
that the French and the
American can work together.
I'm Scottish.
Luc, it's great
working with you on this one.
Someone else might not
have been as generous.
I'm glad to work with
the ODS, Michael.
You know what?
I have no more doubts.
You are the most intelligent...
Brave...
Strong...
And handsome agents the
states has to offer.
Please distribute those
compliments among yourselves.
(Chuckles) Bon voyage!
Welcome back, Miss Ferrer.
And congratulations
on a job well done.
That's very kind
of you, sir, but I
really didn't do much.
Oh, it's not how much you do,
it's that you do your part well.
The CIA is a vast machine
that depends on each cog
turning in unison with the next.
Hassan has been put
out of commission,
our relations with the
French are better than ever.
Yes, sir, I'd have to say
that this entire affair has
been an unqualified success.
It is unqualified,
isn't it, Miss Ferrer?
I swapped out Martinez's
phone as you asked.
So, the next time
the ODS decides
to fly under the radar,
I'll be flying with them.
Yes, siree, this has
been one sweet day.
Michael: All right, proud
patriots, you know the drill.
Check everything in your bags:
Electronics, shoes, toiletries.
Toiletries? Seriously?
The French have no boundaries
when it comes to bugging
our intimate regions.
I once found a microphone
in my man groomer.
Security already scanned
all of this stuff.
If I know Luc, he went
above and beyond,
which is why we are gonna go
above standard
operating procedure.
It doesn't bother you that
Luc might have bugged us?
Bother us? Martinez,
Luc is a spy.
A sweeter man, you will not
meet, but a spy nonetheless,
as are we.
Which is why I would be offended
if he didn't bug us.
Particularly after
we bugged him.
(Scanner beeping)
I think we got
ourselves a winner.
Martinez,
your cell phone's been bugged.
You've been officially initiated
into the spy versus spy game.
(Electrical buzzing)
Hey.
Oh. How was Paris?
Successful mission,
but I did miss you.
Yeah, sure.
No, I did.
You remembered.
Not exactly, but I remembered
the dinner at the hotel
our first night.
You came in in the most
devastating dress.
The one that we bought at the
local designer shop that day.
I mean, it didn't look
that good in the window...
I can tell you that much...
But it was blue, deep blue,
and I was... I was gone.
And then you remembered
the perfume.
Oh, no, no. I dug the
dress out of storage
and had it tested in the lab to
determine the perfume on it.
The lab.
How romantic.
Mmm.
Thank you.
All right.
Well done back there in Paris.
The ODS are good.
All that tooting
their own horns...
Apparently, it's justified.
Um...
Um...
What's wrong?
I don't think this...
us... will work.
What? Why?
Do you want me to be honest?
Yes.
You see? There's the problem.
I'm not a very honest person.
In fact, I'm not very
trustworthy either.
Look, I know who I am,
and I am a person
who does what's best for me
before everything else,
including the truth.
I'm not easily chased off.
I would just chew you
up and spit you out.
Oh, yeah?
I might surprise you.
I might just bite back.
No, I'm sorry.
Oh.
Oh, okay.
Uh... yeah. Well...
(Cell phone beeping)
I'm sorry, too.
Is that a new phone?
Uh, yeah. The French
bugged my other one.
Can you believe it?
What did you do with it?
The old phone? Yeah.
Destroyed it.
Good.
Mr. Martinez, I wasn't done
with this conversation.
(Car alarm chirps)
(Car alarm chirping repeatedly)
♪ Wham! Bam! Mon chat splash,
git sur mon lit a bouffé ♪
♪ sa langue en buvant
dans mon whisky ♪
♪ quant a moi peu...
♪ (Adele gasps)
Rick: Oh! Sorry.
(Still playing Ça
plane pour moi)