Numb3rs (2005–2010): Season 6, Episode 3 - 7 Men Out - full transcript

♪ Followed by the dead ♪

♪ On the way to mercy ♪

♪ In the leper's head ♪

♪ In the after hours ♪

I get a call, 7:00 a.m.

Owner's walking some
developer through.

Thought all that money dried up.

Oil hasn't.

The guy's from Abu Dhabi or
some Persian whosits or wherever.

He wants to turn this
rat-hole into downtown lofts.

For rich kids playing
starving artists.



The point is, this
was my day off.

Was this stuff here before?

I think it came
with the package.

Maybe he didn't want
to bother the neighbors.

Could have done
me the same favor.

I got to clean all this up.

♪ Till the night turns blue ♪

Found the first
one two days ago.

Same pedigree,
same decorating sense.

And in both cases, the
only prints on the gun

were the victim's.

Gun only had one bullet?

Guess these guys
are on a budget.

All we're missing are
the black high-tops.



Must be some cult thing, right?

♪ The night turns blue ♪

Four days, three bodies.

Single shot through the head.

Past nine months, there's
been a similar series

of bodies turning up.

Miami, Houston, Denver.

It's three cities,
seven men each time.

Looks like we've got
ourselves a serial killer.

Who's seen too many Saw movies.

This time, he left
something behind.

Those cables?

To a video camera.

Somebody's making a movie.

Yeah, the victim
pulled the trigger,

but this wasn't a suicide.

Somebody was watching him,

enjoying the show.

♪ The night turns blue ♪

I knew that that
lecture was a bad idea.

Oh, come on.

I-I needed a date.

Amita's out of town
on a conference.

The Royal Astronomical Society.

You love the Royal
Astronomical Society.

Yeah, well, I did love the
Royal Astronomical Society.

Why are you going into
such a tailspin over this?

I'm not in a tailspin, Earth is.

Icarus-like.

We're soon fated

to tumble from orbit and
be engulfed by the sun

in some vaporous death.

What am I missing?

Do I have to wait
for Larry King?

The Royal Astronomical Society

published a paper recalculating
the demise of the Earth

and shortening its lifespan

considerably.

We've got another
7.59 billion years.

You know, with these
pills I've been taking,

I might be around then.

Well, given the
evolutionary trajectory,

you may be the only one who is.

What is this?

These brokerage accounts
and bank statements?

I'm, uh, just wallowing.

I've joined the ranks of those

who've seen their
401k's turn into 201k's.

It's all my fault...
Trusting this financial guy

who told me that shopping malls

in Orange Country
were the next sure thing.

How much have you lost?

I still have my city pension.

I think.

We checked out the soundproofing

and blackout material... All
common stuff you can find

at any home improvement store.

And the guns?

All stolen, a dead end.

If we're looking
at a serial killer,

they are equal opportunity...
Victims are all over the map.

Yeah, different
ages, ethnicities.

One thing in common: they
all seem to have suffered

financial setbacks recently.

- Who hasn't?
- Our first victim's wife

caught him
visiting online sites,

adult services classifieds.

She accused him of blowing
their savings on hookers.

Certain names showed up a lot...

Uh, "Layla, 750
bucks," "Carol, 500."

We're checking the other
victims' computers to see if

we find the same kind of story.

Could be that our killer

is meeting these guys online

through these classifieds.

All right. Keep me posted.

Retirement: Your
Savings And You.

- So, w-what are you doing?
- Investment portfolios.

You know, Dad invested
his retirement savings

with some genius who
blew it on strip malls.

We're, like, going to
have to bail him out.

You know, I had a lot of
money with that guy, too.

- Really?
- Yeah.

I-I make a decent enough
salary, I can swing it.

I'm just going to
have to talk to him.

Yeah, good luck with that.

So, did you get to
the stuff I sent you?

You know, there's
not a lot to see.

I mean, there's a
serious dearth of data

in these files, which is why
I began looking for answers

in the desert.

That was on Larry's desk, right?

He's got me babysitting it.

- He's a restless soul, huh?
- Sure is.

Sort of like your three victims.

Like everyone, they
move through the city

leaving trails, forensic data,
marking where they've been,

like ATM visits,

cell phone calls,
credit card purchases.

But serial killers are
very opportunistic;

they choose victims
where they see victims,

like around where they live
or around where they work.

So, I'm going to use
geographic profiling

to examine the forensic data,

see where these three victims
might have crossed paths.

If I can find
their intersection,

then I can find the killer.

Glad to see my own
Zen garden's inspired you.

Been a while since
it did anything for me.

Maybe the change of scenery
is giving it new relevance.

Chalk up another victory

to de-cluttering.

Which, uh, if I remember right,

you said was a
prelude to leaving.

And your point is?

You cleaned out your office,

you divested yourself
of your academic duties,

and yet you're still here.

Am I missing something?

Leaving is a process.

Uh, lightening one's load is
the first of many paving stones

that have to be laid.

I'm dwelling in the moment.

And the moment

is here.

We got something.

A four-block radius
where all three victims

made credit card purchases.

Lee Stoyer

charged $37 for
gasoline at a filling station,

just a few blocks from a deli

where Edward Mendez
bought a sandwich

- and coffee.
- And down the street

from a Quick-mart where
Martin Hedges purchased

lotto tickets and cigarettes.

Do you have that
list of I.P. addresses

that Don sent over?

The online erotic services sites
frequented by the decedents.

Here it is.

As I recall, Carol and Layla
were particular favorites.

Here's the location
for that I.P. address.

Oh, yeah!

I hope the Jell-O shots
have penicillin in 'em.

Come on, Granger.

They don't have places
like this back in Utah?

- Idaho.
- Idaho.

You boys look like you've
been underappreciated.

How about we start with a drink?

Well, we're here on business.

Federal employees
get a discount.

You know, some
deeper than others.

We're looking for
a Layla or a Carol.

- You know them?
- Nope.

But I do know a couple of girls

who'd be happy to make
you forget all about them.

What do you got?

Since when's a
VIP room guys only?

Definitely not my experience.

Hey! Hey!

Back up! Back up! FBI!

- Pencils down!
- Hands up!

Hands up, okay.

I'm sure you have all your
work backed up, gentlemen.

Where'd all this come from?

She's not talking,

but one of her computer
schlubs told us plenty.

He I.D.'d all three victims.

Said they were serious gamblers.

They used the erotic
sites to place their bets.

Layla, Carol... not hookers.

These were teams... L.A.
Lakers, Carolina Panthers.

Dollar amounts were
the money they laid down.

All three dead guys
were in way deep.

They owed our girl in
there six figures each.

What does this have
to do with a serial killer?

I don't know, seeing her
in those handcuffs, though,

might not be a bad way to go.

LAPD just found
another body. Same M.O.

Jordan Harper, 37.

But this time, we got a witness.

She was there?

Not exactly.

Mom just got back
from a business trip.

She checked her
nanny cam recording,

found that her Wi-Fi
frequency got crossed

with a transmission
coming from the building

across the street.

Place your bets.

Last call.

Betting is now closed.

There are four men dead.

Not suicide.

Betting is now closed.

It's the kind of
game you don't win,

even if you survive.

Betting is now closed.

Russian roulette.

Legend goes that
the Russian officers,

starving at the front,

resorted to wagering their lives

for a crust of bread.

That's the Russian Army.

What's up with these guys?

Well, we can only
tell you what's up

with the game, 'cause
the site's protected.

Only gamblers who

are betting on the
contests have access.

I was able to crack
the encryption.

I mean, the whole
thing's a tournament.

Right? You got eight
players, one winner.

Hundreds of people
betting online.

A marriage of
greed and bloodlust

wedded to technology.

This Web site has all
the bells and whistles.

I mean, you can
pull up character bios

and fan pages and blogs.

You can even order a
video from previous contests.

So, whoever's running these
games is streaming them online,

taking the bets,
recalibrating the odds,

all in seconds.

Sickness aside, I
mean, what's the point?

One man lives, one man dies...

Why not just flip a coin?

Well, it's more
complex than that.

With one bullet, one spin,

the gun passed back and
forth, the game takes on nuance.

I think to understand it,
you have to put yourself

inside the game, become it.

Just like a ball dropped
on a roulette wheel,

the bullet is
chambered and spun.

But unlike roulette, where
your eye can follow the ball,

the bullet becomes invisible,

its location a mystery.

Early on, gamblers
like to play the long shot.

And a one in six chance
that the gun will fire

means six-to-one odds.

That's a big payout
if you guess right.

Longer you play, the
worse the odds get.

One in six becomes one
in five, then one in four.

And as chances increase
that the gun will go off,

the bets become more even odds.

The payouts get smaller,

until finally, -

one player's luck runs out.

Gamblers play the odds,

but psychology is
also a factor here.

People believe
whatever they want, right?

If a player has a hot
hand, he can't lose.

Someone on a losing streak

thinks their luck has
got to change, so logic,

emotion, uh, greed...
They all play a part here.

Well, so far, we're
only through round one.

Four matches, four victors.

Four losers.

Round two is next.

Two more guys are gonna die.

I already hacked the site,

so if we can do
a real-time trace

the next time they
start streaming,

then we can track
it back to its source,

the, uh, the game itself.

Okay. We I.D.'d the other
guy in the nanny cam video,

the winner.

Glen Olin.

39. Accountant, huh?

Wife reported him
missing about a week ago.

Currently unemployed.

Look, I mean, these guys
don't just wake up one morning

and put a gun to their head.

Somebody put
them in those chairs.

Maybe Olin's wife can
point us in the right direction.

Glen had a job
interview last Monday.

He left in the morning.

He never came home.

You know what the
interview was for?

I don't know.

He's had several.

Glen was laid off last year.

We've lost our health insurance.

We may lose the house.

It hasn't been easy.

That picture was taken in
France on our honeymoon.

We were supposed to
stay at this five-star hotel,

but they lost our reservation.

Glen went out and
bought camping gear.

He said, "We can do
better than five stars.

We can have a million
of them every night."

Something's happened.

I know it.

That's why you're here.

Miss Olin, are you aware

of your husband having
a gambling problem?

I saw the signs.

The distraction,
the irritability,

the late nights on the computer.

Like before.

He got help.

He told me he'd
never do it again.

He promised me.

Okay, I'm going to need
to take that computer.

Where is he?

What's happened?

Please, tell me the truth.

Place your bets.

How many people you think
have watched this video?

You heard from Charlie?

Yeah, toiling away
on the trace program,

hopefully nearing an answer.

Well, too late for John
Murray, aka "The Dominator."

LAPD found his body an hour ago.

And final bets.

That is some kind of sick.

He calls himself "The Immortal."

I've seen irrational
feelings of invincibility

across a card table,

but this is extreme.

So, you really were a gambler?

In a previous incarnation.

What makes a man do this?

The gambler's ruin.

Doubling down, chasing losses.

Thousand-dollar wager fast
becomes a six-figure debt,

and you just start
to see no way out.

And final bets.

Is that what happened to you?

My situation was a
little more prosaic.

You know, there's a
line in The Gambler...

Yeah. "You gotta know
when to hold 'em..."

♪ Know when to fold 'em. ♪

- Yeah.
- "The Gambler."

- Kenny Rogers, right?
- I'm strictly a Torme

and Tenors man, but, um, I
was talking about the movie.

Yeah, there's a line where
Paul Sorvino asks James Caan,

"What is it all gamblers
have in common?"

And Caan says, "They're
all looking to lose."

Well, that was me.

I actually found power
in losing, you know.

Freedom over the material.

Less in my pockets
meant less on my mind.

Betting is now closed.

Where are your friends?

They're busy.

Works for me.

You know, there
was a time in my life

when a ruthless
woman was a turn-on.

You mean, like yesterday?

Shows you how wrong I can be.

Here I thought you were a
respectable businesswoman.

Would have never
taken you for a bookie.

I tend to all men's vices.

Yeah, as long as they pay.

We know about
the Russian roulette.

I got nothing to do with that.

We got four dead men,
each owing you six figures.

That is gonna be
a really tough sell

for any lawyer.

I'm giving you a chance here.

My friends won't.

This guy comes into my
place looking for talent.

Deadbeats, my
hardest-luck cases.

He wanted a list.

So you gave it to him?

He was offering them a chance
to play their way out of debt.

Each round they won,
they'd get 100 grand.

The winner would
take home a million.

So you sold their debt.

Sold them.

They're gamblers.

They made a choice.

All right.

- I want a name.
- I don't have one.

But...

I can give you a face.

Heard it might
be an all-nighter.

Ugh! I hope not.

What's this?

I stopped by Scarpatto's.

Picked up a some
Bolognese, a little salad.

Didn't want you to miss dinner.

Thanks. I appreciate
the thought.

But, you know, you really
shouldn't be buying me take-out.

You really shouldn't be
buying yourself take-out.

Not given your finances.

Oh, who died and
made you Suze Orman?

Well, now is not the time,

but we really do need
to talk about this, okay?

- About what?
- About reality.

I ran an analysis
of your portfolio.

There is no way that
your finances are going

to recover enough for you
to bankroll your retirement.

Oh, I see. So, no more
take-out... that's your solution.

Well, you supported
me my whole life.

It's time for me
to return the favor.

Yeah, but it doesn't
work out that way.

You see, a father is
supposed to support

his children, not the
other way around.

Oh, it goes bad if it gets cold.

♪♪

So, I thought you were
gonna show me a face.

You don't like what you see?

It's just that after,
like, the 30th butt crack,

it starts to get a little old.

So, is it normal to have
hidden cameras inside

lap dance lounges?

I like to look out for my girls.

And the occasional
mark with deep pockets

who makes a drunken mistake.

You got me pegged.

You know, while
we're being honest,

why do you like bad girls?

Not enough attention from
Mom, Dad was a player?

Or, um, maybe just the opposite?

Nice family,

church picnics, Boy
Scouts, Pledge of Allegiance.

Then, maybe one day in
the Army, you get a taste.

Relief from the war.

Or boredom.

You liked it.

I guess now I got you pegged.

I can see your face.

There. That's him.

Name's Kai Kragen.

Reality TV show producer.

Flamed out doing a
show called Thrill Drill.

It's one of those
cheese-ball deals

where people do
bogus stunts for cash.

Except on Kragen's last show,

things got a
little bit too real.

Contestant was decapitated
doing a bungee jump.

I saw that. It was
all over YouTube.

Yeah, and that incident...
It just trashed his career,

and then lawsuits
bankrupted him.

So we got a reality
TV show producer

who needs the money.

All right, check it out.

I love the picture.

My favorite subject.

Surprised it didn't go

the way of the
rest of your stuff.

Restitution to the family of the
guy whose head you lopped off.

It survived, just like me.

Well, we have our
own picture of you.

Nice hidden camera, Hoover.

You guys got me.

I had a lap dance.

Not the best path
to a meaningful

relationship, but
it's also not a crime.

We have other photos, too.

I think you know them.

Ooh.

Looks like they
pissed somebody off.

We have a witness who
says you recruited them

for an online Russian
roulette tournament.

We saw the show.

It's right up there with
Thrill Drill for high impact.

I'm out of the snuff business.

You know, we saw your
old house on Mulholland.

It was very nice.

That must have
been hard to give up.

Yeah, not to mention
all the money.

That's TV.

One day you're up,
and next day you're

covered in blood,
holding someone's head.

I'll be back.

Maybe you already are.

Look, I have a
respectable career

producing infomercials now.

All right? One I
need to get back to.

I-I don't see why you
guys are wasting your time.

Whether a guy puts a
gun to his head in a game

or a bunch of people are
eating cow testicles on an island,

it's all entertainment, right?

Next time you want to
talk to me, call my lawyer.

You guys know the way out?

So, what do you think?

Think we need to find out
how he's paying for that powder.

Hey, Charlie, what's up?

We're on our way.

Next game just
started streaming.

Place your bets.

How we doing?

Uh, the location's
somewhere downtown.

It's-it's near Skid Row.

I'm zeroing in on I.P. address.

You guys got that?

Got it. We're on our way.

All right, Nikki's
on her way, too.

Last call. Final bets.

And betting is now closed.

Charlie?

Almost. Almost. Um...

Come on. Yeah,
there it is. I got it.

Okay, it's the intersection
of First and Main Street.

It's, like, a tenement
building on the corner.

Okay, you guys got that?

First and Main.

We're two blocks away, Don.

Last call. All final bets.

Betting is now closed.

They got a satellite
dish on the third floor.

FBI! Let's go! Put
your hands up!

- FBI! -Get up!
- Put them up!

- Behind your head, both of you. Let's go.
- Hands up!

You, back there!

Don't do it, man.

Drop that gun.

I lost him.

Him, too.

Who is in charge of the
Russian roulette games?

Is it Kragen?

Six men are dead.

Not to mention Miami,
Houston, Denver.

Look, we have your computer.

We know you've been
watching the games.

You've been keeping close
tabs on the betting, on the odds.

You were a fan long
before you were a player.

I was never a fan.

Right, you're an addict.

You bet on people who are
gonna blow their brains out.

The only thing I ever bet on

was a house, a job, security.

I'm making a far safer bet now.

Yeah, with a gun to your head?

We're consenting adults.

Well, why don't you
tell your wife that.

I know you think you
may have let her down.

Okay?

What you're doing right
now is not going to help.

What you need to do
is think about your wife.

You need to talk to her.

I think about her every moment.

She's the reason
I'm doing all this.

The last thing I want
to do is talk to her.

Like I said,

I'm a consenting adult.

I-I haven't committed any crime.

Hmm?

You got nothing to hold me on.

If we put you on the street,

you're going right
back to that game.

It's down to the final two...

My shot at a million bucks.

What do you think?

How can a man

so completely lose
touch with reality?

You know, I'm
not so sure he has.

Mm, what? More meditation
on the gambler's ruin?

I've seen players give in

to the dark side,
their addiction,

where all they
believe in is the game.

His eyes are filled with a
different kind of certainty.

Those numbers you
found on Olin's computers...

Calculations on the
odds, and the betting...

I'd like to see those.

The guys we grabbed
at the game lawyered up.

I mean, somebody got to them.

Then you guys should tail Olin.

Okay.

Agent Eppes!

I hear you found Glen.

Where is he? Can I see him?

We don't really have
enough to hold him.

- We're going to have to let him go.
- No, no, no.

You let him back out
there, he'll kill himself.

You can't do this!

Glen! Glen!

Glen! Wait!

Glen...

Glad to see you're not alone.

Got another friend?

Sure.

You want to talk about it?

Ah, all is good.

It's this case, right?

Men killing
themselves for money.

Yeah, I mean, this guy...

he's got this woman...
I mean, she loves him.

And-and he's got a home and...

Yeah, well, you
can't help people

if they don't want to be helped.

Hey, Charlie talk to you?

Yeah, he tried.

Boy, we are so similar.

We just don't want help
from anybody, right?

I must've got it from you.

But I learned.

Who's he talking to?

Guy's given up on life.

I'm glad to see
he still has time

for his friends.

Yeah, speaking of which,

you give any thought
to our last conversation?

About me signing up for Twitter?

- Yeah.
- Hell yeah.

And the answer is still hell no.

I'm-I'm just saying,
man, if I'm out at a bar,

having a few beers,
having a good time,

I tweet, you read it,

then you come on
over and join me.

Dude, if you want to have
a drink, you just call me.

You "tweeting" me... ugh.

I don't even like
the way that sounds.

All right, whatever.

Just keep on living
in the 20th century.

Hold on. Where's he going?

I don't know, but his car's
parked the other direction.

Well, we know
who he was calling.

Guys really want
him back in the game.

You know, if you
were on Twitter,

you wouldn't have to tell
Don about this in person.

And... pull!

I appreciate the
enthusiasm, Charles,

but I don't think
the word "pull"

is the appropriate
term of art here.

You're worried
about appropriate,

I'm hoping one of these kids
doesn't snap an iPhone picture

for the folks back home.

Then we'll both
be on sabbatical.

Well, the tracking program

is still searching.

So I think we're
going to have to wait

for the next game
to start streaming.

Let's load the gun.

Now, what exactly
are we looking for?

An edge, Charlie...
Just some justification

for Glen Olin's certitude.

- Right. Right.
- And spin.

We will go again.

I don't mean to keep bugging
you about you leaving and all.

- That's a relief.
- Well, the longer

you stay, the more I'm wondering
how committed you are to

leaving.

Y-You're not having as much fun

as I am right now? Fire!

Exactly.

But as intriguing
as all this is,

it's also distracting.

The school, the FBI... I just...

I want to return to just
some place of pure thought.

Okay, go to the arcade.

You know, play your
Tempest, clear your head.

I'm just no match
for the clutter.

You know, it's-it's
like your game.

I mean, there's always one
more enemy to be zapped.

Fire.

I appreciate your concern,

but my dawdling has nothing
to do with some change of heart.

Then what?

My paving stones
are not yet aligned.

Fire.

All right, we've got a winner.

We do, indeed.

What?

We just found Olin's edge.

So, you're saying it's fixed?

According to these figures, yes.

Okay, so, on the
left are numbers

we got off of Glen
Olin's computer.

These are odds
and betting patterns

for the previous
three tournaments.

Numbers on the right are ours.

Now, we generated these by
running Russian roulette games

with student volunteers.

We didn't kill anyone.

These figures show

that in almost every case, the
house came away the winner.

Making sure that
the right person

lost at the right time,

maximizing their returns.

How do you fix Russian roulette?

Same as in casino roulette.

By fixing the wheel.

See, remember our revolver.

The bullet is
chambered and spun.

The spin is random.

And the bullet disappears.

Where she stops, nobody knows.

- Unless they do.
- You control the wheel,

you control the
game. It's a sure thing.

Techs examined the guns
from the crime scenes.

Each has a radio
receiver inside it.

And triggered by remote,

the device activates a photo-eye

on the cylinder-stop
inside the gun.

Yeah, there's no way

that they would've found it

if they weren't looking for it.

Oh, hey, Char...

Oh, this... it's okay.

It's a dummy.

Placing a bullet in
a marked chamber,

all the user has to do

is push a button
on a remote control;

that stops the cylinder.

It stops the bullet,
wherever they want,

every spin, every time.

Glen Olin knew these
contests were rigged, and that

explains his confidence.

Yeah, he's in on it.

Well, his cell phone
records say different.

He called his bookie last night.

He placed every dollar he's
ever won so far in the game.

What, on himself?

His opponent.

"The Immortal"
must be in on the fix.

Well, he was willing to risk

his life the first time on
a chance at $100,000.

Now he can bet on a
sure thing worth, uh,

five or six times that amount.

I know some guys are
willing to do anything

to make sure their
family is taken care of,

but Olin has decided

his life is worth the price.

Hey, Don, we got Kragen.

Interpol had him on a list.

He's been laundering
money offshore

through his infomercial company.

Check this out, it gets better.

There was a chip on
one of the cameras

we recovered at the game,

hadn't been fully recorded over.

There were takes from
an infomercial of his

on Shinto knives.

All right, good. Pick him up.

Got a body.

The remote control transmitters.

Somebody helped
themselves to a pair.

Yeah, that's not all they took.

23 files have been downloaded.

Liked that guy a lot better

when he was pointing
the gun at his own head.

The Immortal has a name.

AFIS didn't come
back with anything

on his prints, so
I cast a wider net.

Got a response from up north.

Mm. Brian Walters.

DUI, Vancouver, '07.

Guy's a Canuck.

And a bona fide TV professional.

Now, among his other crimes,

add outsourcing. Guy's worked

on a bunch of American
shows shot up in Canada,

including Thrill Drill.

That's how he met Kragen.

Walters did special effects

for Kragen... explosions, smoke,

- pyrotechnics.
- Well, now we know

who rigged the guns.

So, they were in it together?

From the start.

Now, I'm guessing that

Kragen promised
Walters a big payday...

The million-dollar
prize in the game.

Uh, maybe he wanted more
money, like a share in the profits.

Mm-hmm. And when Kragen balked,

Walters decided to
cut his partner out.

Now, we recovered the files

that Walters downloaded
from Kragen's computer.

Gamblers' user names,

dollar amounts,
players they bet on.

So, Walters has
taken over the game.

Yeah, and running
it his way now.

Walters sent an e-mail
from Kragen's computer

to the eight highest rollers,

inviting them to
the final match.

Except it's not gonna be online.

It's gonna be in person.

He's flying them in,
staging a human cockfight.

And Olin's gonna lose.

Walters' e-mail included
a Web address with a link

to a protected site.

That could be
the instructions on

when and where the
game is going down.

Charlie was able to crack

the Russian roulette
tournament's Web site.

Maybe he can do the
same, help us find this game.

All right, get that
address to him.

Hey, how's the hack going?

It's going slowly.

I don't even have a location.

And it's not helping

my concentration that Amita

keeps e-mailing me
nonstop from her conference.

She bored?

She's anxious.

She keeps sending me
sample wedding invitations.

Like, we haven't
even set a date yet.

You're coming to
the wedding, right?

I would like to.

You would like to?

Well, Charlie, it's complicated.

I don't even know
where I'm gonna be.

What's complicated?

It's my wedding day, Larry.

All right, I don't, I don't care
if you're in Machu Picchu,

Katmandu or-or the Corn Palace.

I do expect you
to hop on a plane

and be at my wedding, okay?

Yeah.

What is going on with you?

I don't know. I
just lack clarity.

In the past, one door
closes, another door opens.

And now it's like
I'm caught in some...

vestibule of indecision.

Another invitation?

Yeah.

To the game.

You know the rules, gentlemen.

Betting starts at $1 million.

The players drew lots
to determine the order.

Player number two...

will begin.

Place your bets.

Last call.

Final bets.

Taking all final bets.

The betting is now closed.

Hey! FBI!

I want to see hands!

Something we said?

Everybody, uh, just...
just be cool, okay?

We didn't come here
looking for a fight.

There's no army behind us.

We just want to take
this guy out of here

in one piece.

All right, so,

let's just put our guns away.

Okay?

We all go home.

Nobody loses.

You got another idea?

Okay.

Okay, you, I want in.

But I want The
Immortal here to go first.

I'm putting my money behind him.

That's not the assigned order.

What's the problem?

You get nervous?

You pick up the gun.

Now, I got a pretty good
feeling about that first trigger pull.

Second one, not
so much, but the one

after that, I got a
very bad feeling about,

and I'll bet you have

the exact same feeling as I do.

Why are you guys doing this?

I'm saving your life.

You are coming with us.

I don't want to be saved.

So, what are you waiting for?

Pick up the gun.

Go ahead.

That's what I thought.

We-we are going to
take him out of that door.

We all know if
the shooting starts,

nobody wins.

He's not smiling now.

Agent Granger.

Hey.

Thought that was you.

Ah, you just couldn't, uh,
stay away from the place, huh?

I was here giving a statement.

It's good to see you.

Yeah, you, too.

You know, I know we got
off to a bad start, but I was

thinking that perhaps we
could do something about that.

Dinner, maybe?

Yeah. Maybe.

You know where to find me.

Mm-hmm.

♪♪

Make sure there's
no hidden camera.

Yeah, be careful
with that one, buddy.

Okay. And this
coming from the guy

who looks for
love at the morgue.

Oh, no. Claudia hasn't
worked there in a year.

Oh. Who said
anything about Claudia?

♪ Pistol was never loaded ♪

Another bad bet.

I lost everything again.

Well, you got something
much better, pal.

Oh, you mean my life?

It's not worth much.

That's everything.

♪ So let me catch my breath ♪

I don't know what to say to her.

Yeah, you do.

♪ Before you start crying ♪

♪ Turn off the television
and end yours ♪

♪ Hey, Liza ♪

♪ I love you to the bones ♪

♪ But I can't stick
around here anymore ♪

Oh, yeah.

I remember that day.

That was, uh, Princeton.

- You just passed your orals.
- That's right.

Larry walked me through them.

Good game?

Now, before you
lecture me, Professor...

Am I lecturing you?

I just want to assure
you that I wasn't fiddling

on a golf course while
my portfolio was burning.

Okay. Dad, I
didn't say anything.

Good, 'cause I want
you to listen for a second.

I decided to take you
up on your offer of help.

Great. 'Cause I was gonna say...

I'm sorry. I'm listening.

I don't want you to
give me any money,

because I'm-I'm going
to go back to work.

But, uh,

checking the job
listings, I, uh... I found out

that, uh, my computer design
skills are not quite up to date.

So I need a refresher course,

and I thought maybe
you might give me one.

You want me to teach you...?

Come on, you know
how that goes, Dad.

No, I'll pay you for it.

Of course you'll have
to give me the money.

Where is Larry?

He blew off our
chess game again.

Oh, he's, uh...

He's dealing with
some stuff right now.

Yeah. Isn't that
always the case?

♪ I can't stick around
here anymore ♪

♪ Any minute now ♪

♪ They'll come
crashing down our door ♪

♪ So grab what you need ♪

♪ We got to go ♪

♪ Oh, no, no, no, no ♪

♪ No, no. ♪