The Brink (2015): Season 1, Episode 2 - Half-Cocked - full transcript

Admiral, what's going on?

Why can't we hear anything?

We're still working out a few bugs.

This is the perfect time
to work out a few bugs,

15 minutes before we bomb
the shit out of Pakistan.

Does anybody here lip read?

Mr. President, it's not too late to recall.

No, the second you recall, the Israelis
will launch their own preemptive strike

to take out those nuclear installations.

At least this way we can control it.

He's right, Walter.



99.

Reports of severe
turbulence at all altitudes.

Set max conserve.

I'm gonna heave.

What?

I'm gonna heave, man.

Come on, Glenn. Don't, buddy, no.

Come on, Glenn. No, no.

Jesus.

What the hell was that?

Looked like vomit.

Admiral, find out what's going on up there.

Yes, Mr. President.

- Any word from Haroon Raja?
- Nothing.



Shit, if I could just
reach the son of a bitch,

he could take down Zaman from the inside.

Okay. I'll keep trying.

I might still have an old family
contact number from our Georgetown days.

You mean Raja went to Georgetown with you?

Yeah, he was that kind of cokehead
that never paid for it himself.

Cheap bastard owes me.

He did a lot of coke. Lot.

- I never did it, you know.
- Of course not, sir.

Can I offer you and
your men any pistachios?

A fax was sent from this house.

A fax that could greatly
jeopardize Pakistan.

You don't say.

If you do not tell me who sent it, you will
all be arrested and charged with treason.

- Let go of me.
- Guys, chill.

Everyone. Gentlemen, gentlemen.

This family's completely innocent.
I'm the one you're looking for.

Now, if you'll please unhand that lovely
woman, we can all discuss this over...

I don't know, sponge
cake and milky tea? Hm?

I wouldn't get too cute with these guys,
because they're kind of like our Gestapo.

Don't worry about it, Rafiq.

Just have to show them this.
I'm reaching in my pocket.

No need to shoot.

Boom.

Nothing to worry about. Okay?

That's to inform you that I'm an
employee of the U.S. State Department,

and entitled to all
diplomatic privileges of the--

Or not.

Contact the embassy and make sure
the ambassador knows what's happening.

Don't mention that we destroyed
their Mercedes.

He's coming with us. The rest of you
are to remain confined to this house.

My men will be stationed
outside so do not try to leave.

You all right back there, buddy?

The pills make me feel like
I'm sitting in my own feces,

with vomit dripping all over me.

Well, that's because you are.

Well, that fucking sucks.

Sorry, I kind of
roofied you there, Jammer.

I think those were the morphine
pills I take for my back pain.

Jesus, man, how bad is your
back? This shit is intense.

8 years of cramming my 6'4"
body into this tiny-ass cockpit?

Pretty fucking bad.

- What the fuck was that?
- Oh, my bad, man.

I was cleaning puke off my trigger.

This is locking on to something.

No, please, god, no.

What did that just hit? It
looked like a prehistoric bird.

It's too small to be a plane.
It must be some kind of drone.

I'm pretty fucked up so
I'll go with drone also.

Hammer one-nine, what
the hell are you shooting at?

You're 300 miles from target.

Do me a favor, don't fire any
more goddamn missiles, okay?

Sitting on my hands... in my own shit.

Mr. Secretary?

Please tell me that's Raja.

No, it's the Indian Foreign Minister.

He's claiming Pakistan just shot
down one of their surveillance drones.

Pakistan's denying it was
them, but India's not buying it.

- They're getting ready to rumble.
- Rakesh.

Yeah, calm down.

No, let's-- Why don't we
find out exactly what happened

before we start a holy war?

I am not taking Pakistan's side.

I'm just asking you not
to go off half-cock-- Shit!

- Fuck! Shit!
- It's happened to me. I can fix it.

Ugh, god. You flushed, right?

No, girl, but I admire your grit.

I don't mean to interrupt.

Oh my god.

That's the guy you like, right?

No, I don't like him.

Is it me or is that room like a fucking
holding cell for the criminally insane?

They're signing the president up for
World War III, and he's letting them.

He needs to grow a pair. Fucking pussy.

Mr. Wilson-- Oh,
yeah, it's working.

- Ah. Rakesh? Rakesh?
- You hung up on me!

No, no, I did not hang up on you.

You insulted me!

That is not
an insult. That's a...

an expression. Half-cock does
not mean you have half a cock.

It means
you have--

Attempting a task without
being fully prepared.

- Attempting a-- Attempting
a task-- - He hung up.

Who would you like me
to get on the phone next?

- My dick doctor. What's that called?
- Your urologist.

Wait, are you okay?

No, it feels like I'm fucking
trying to shit through my cock.

That's... very... specific.

Greetings, my friend.

Howdy.

They taking you in for questioning too?

I wish that were all they
were taking me in for.

Sounds like you ended up on the wrong
side of the action tonight, like me.

You could say that.

So, uh...

Any words of advice for a
first-time political prisoner?

Stick to the truth.

That way, you will have
died an honorable death.

Yeah, okay. Thank you.

I guess I'll just have to
figure it out on my own.

I have no doubt that you will.

I'm Alex, by the way.

I am Vakeel Bashar,

the democratically elected
Prime Minister of Pakistan.

No shit?

Shit.

Does that mean that it's bullshit
and you're not the Pakistani--

I'm confused.

I am the democratically elected
Prime Minister of Pakistan.

So then you'd say-- never
mind. You would say, "No shit."

It could be a double shit
negative. My apologies.

That's all right. Lost in translation.

Where are you going?

I gotta get back to the embassy
to tell them what happened to Alex.

His soldiers are outside.

I know, that's why I'm gonna go up to the
roof and climb across to the neighbors.

Are you out of your mind? We're
all going to be shot as traitors.

And why are you helping these people?

Because...

I'm the only friend that that
arrogant little imperialist has, okay?

Zaman is going to parade that
ignorant jackass to the world as a spy,

and use it to consolidate his
power and destroy our country.

Well, there is that too.

You have put this entire family in danger.

You are risking your life for someone
who will surely never return the favor,

and you are leaving the house
without having eaten anything.

Ma, I'll grab something on the way.

That's all I ask.

Half-cocked is not an
insult. It's an expression.

- No, no.
- It was a misunderstanding, Harish.

Walter Larson in no way meant to
disrespect your foreign minister.

We have to learn all the facts
about the shooting down of your drone

before formulating a response.

Now, we are every bit as concerned...

Raja?
- No, I tried your old contact number.

It's now a Chipotle in Karachi.

Intel says that both Raja's
parents passed away years ago.

Dead end. Literally.

- Then what?
- Your wife is on the phone.

Let's see, talk to my wife

or get torn a new asshole by the
president as soon as he hangs up?

Excuse me.

Hmm?

Lovely job translating.

- Nayyara.
- Nayyara.

Thank you, Mr. Secretary.

From your accent I'm guessing Punjabi

by way of London School of Economics?

Hm, very good, sir.

I'm always on the lookout
for real talent on my team.

- I'll have someone get in touch.
- Okay.

- Love your shoes.
- Thank you.

Sir.

- Make sure that's...
- She's already in your contacts.

- Hey, darling.
- Hey.

I'm stuck at the
White House. For real.

I actually believe you this
time. I've been watching the news.

On a slightly less urgent note,

what'd the president say about pushing
my judicial nomination through the Senate?

Uh... didn't ask him.

He's a little busy trying
to stave off nuclear winter.

Just as well. I'm gonna withdraw.

Who needs their name dragged through
the mud by some tired old fucker

from the great state of Montana?

No, you're not withdrawing
your name. Be patient.

Well, I'm in limbo.

I've recused all my clients
due to conflicts of interest.

I've turned down offers. Meanwhile,
I'm stuck in this fucking house

just, literally, running in place.

Well, on the bright side, you're in
the best shape you've ever been in.

Well, there is that.

Honey, this appointment is your dream.

It's a stepping stone to the Supreme Court.

Just like we planned.

Walter, I know you don't want to hear this,

but I'm getting a lot of
pressure to make a decision

on this Pentagon General Counsel job.

And I'm considering it.

No, no, honey. You don't want to do that.

We need you on the district court.

Well, great. Then I need
you to talk to the president.

I will try to buttonhole
him between air strikes.

Thank you.

Love you.

- Love you too.
- Love you more.

Well, Mrs. Larson...

gonna work those obliques hard today.

Oh, Billy, put that thing away.

I haven't even had my coffee yet.

It was a pleasure meeting you, Alex.

Yeah...

Unfortunately, I'm afraid we will
not be seeing each other ever again.

For what it's worth, I think you would
have made a kick-ass prime minister.

Thank you for listening
to my victory speech.

At least it didn't go completely to waste.

It was an amazing speech.

I thought so.

I have to say, you're taking
all this incredibly well.

Perhaps my death will
spur the people of Pakistan

to rise up against Zaman

in righteous insurrection.

Yeah.

Perhaps my death will garner a small
blurb in the Dartmouth Alumni Magazine.

Live bravely, Alex.

That way, you will not
fear dying quite so much.

Too late, I'm afraid.

All right, what if we tell
them the missile malfunctioned?

What missile?

Nah, they'd just have it
checked and know we were lying.

Ooh, that missile.

That was today?

We could tell 'em we
thought we were under attack.

- Who was under attack?
- Christ, Jammer.

We were under attack?

By the time I get you over these Pakistani
nuke sites, are you gonna be straight enough

to deliver these bombs on target or what?

- Sure.
- Good.

I just gotta figure out if
that's a three or an eight.

- If what's a three or an eight?
- It's a three.

- What's a three?
- No, that's an eight.

- What's an eight?
- My panel, man!

- Oh, wait a minute.
- What?

It was a bug.

We are so fucking fucked.

_

_

Alex Toolbot.

Talbot.

Towelbutt.

T-Talbot.

- Towelbutt.
- Yeah, that's it.

You know, these CIA cover
names all sound alike.

What do they do? Open up an Ivy
League yearbook to a random page?

It's actually my name.

And I don't work for the CIA.
I work for the State Department.

I've been helping NGOs get in
country to build clean water projects.

Polluted water, bad. Alex Talbot, good.

I'll make this simple. You could
be executed for espionage as a spy

for sending classified information
to a foreign government.

Or?

I mean, there's an or,
right? There's always an or.

Please tell me there's an or.

Or you can make a videotaped confession

denouncing the United States of America,

admitting you work for the CIA,

and that you were caught while on a mission

to bring down the government of Pakistan.

Let's do that one.

_

Did I say that wrong? I
was just trying to help.

Sorry.

Once the soldiers took him away, there
was really nothing more that we could do.

Well, you did the right
thing by coming by here--

- Samantha?
- I'm sorry, Mr. Ambassador.

It doesn't surprise me that
Talbot's in over his head.

Actually, it was on my plate this week
to get rid of that career dead-ender.

Was actually
looking forward to it.

And, I get that. Um...

but correct me if I'm wrong, but in
order for you to experience the pleasure

of firing him, first you
probably need to save him.

Right?

Well, on behalf of the
United States Government

and the American people, I want
to thank you for all you've done.

But, wait, wait, sir. Alex, his life

- is in danger.
- I'm sure it is.

I've been in the Middle
East most of my life.

And I've watched,
firsthand, as it turned from

an exotic paradise to a Biblical hellhole.

And I believe we're
witnessing divine intervention.

- Divine intervention?
- Israel is in his sights now.

The Day of the Lord is at hand.

Right, interesting, but how
are we going to rescue Alex?

We can pray.

Heavenly Father,

Jesus Lord.

Protect your people,

as the enemy attempts
to enter your temple--

- and erect a new-- -

as the enemy attempts
to enter your temple...

to erect a New Jerusalem. Pour into me...

that I may feel you reign inside of me...

Son. Son!

I'll do the praying.

Okay.

We offer ourselves to you, O Lord.

Umair Zaman on the line.

Do I answer it or not?

You think Zaman knows that we're about to

carry out strikes
against his nuclear sites?

I don't believe his primary radar would
be tracking our aircraft quite yet.

Doesn't matter. Don't answer it.

You have to answer. What if
he's calling to capitulate?

You have to know exactly
what he's thinking.

- Don't answer it.
- Answer it.

Damn it!

General Zaman.

President Navarro, good day.

I saw your speech earlier.

I fear it was a bit wordy and long-winded.

I'm only just now getting the hang of this.

On the contrary, I thought it
was quite direct and eye-opening.

Although, to be honest, I need some
clarification on a point or two.

Let's not get too
caught up in the formalities.

I only called to say hello. This
is really just an ice breaker.

But I must ask you about
what you said regarding Israel.

Now, what exactly did you mean
by, "remove the Zionist threat"?

I cannot elaborate at this time.

But you understand that Israel
is an important ally of the U.S.?

Any use of your nuclear strategic
forces outside of self defense--

I mean, you're violating all
rules of international law.

Oh, let's discuss international law.

Let's discuss the illegal
use of the attack drones

that spread dangerous emasculating
electromagnetic energy across my country.

We're talking about Israel now, okay?

And I think that
we-- - Israel, Israel, Israel.

That's all you Americans care about.

Poor little Israel. Boo-hoo!

Fucker hung up on me.

_

_

_

_

_

What was the nature
of your mission tonight?

I went to the bazaar to
buy souvenirs for my family.

If I don't come home
with a Bin Laden t-shirt

for every single one of
my 14 nieces and nephews,

I'll never hear the end of it.
They like to wear them ironically.

I meant the nature of
your mission for the CIA.

I keep telling you, I
don't work for the CIA

and I wasn't on any mission tonight.

Stop lying to me!

Fine.

Are you familiar with
the Chaghcharan reservoir?

Yes.

I was at the bazaar to procure estrogen.

Estrogen?

You see, over the past several
months, we've been slowly introducing

the estrogen into your water supply.

We want your men to grow breasts,

wider hips, and eventually menstruate.

I see.

What is the name of your
estrogen contact at the bazaar?

Sanjay Gupta.

- You mock me?
- Son of a... Ow.

I'm sorry, I don't know
what you want me to say.

The truth doesn't seem
to be getting me anywhere.

What happens to you now is out of my hands.

What do you mean?

Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hey, hey, hey!

Hey!

Okay, listen, I just want to say this.

That I am one of U.S. Secretary
of State Walter Larson's

most valuable associates,

and if anything were to happen to me

it would most assuredly
get his immediate attention.

_

If you fuck with me, you
fuck with Walter Larson.

Fuck it. I can't wait for Raja anymore.

When I get to the president, give me a
second and then rush over and interrupt me.

Go, go, go.

Mr. President? Damn,
nobody left me a thing.

With Pierce you gotta get in here
fast. He loves preemptive strikes.

Even the rice is all gone? Mr. Secretary?

- Bingo.
- You got more rice?

No, Mr. President, I've just
managed to make contact with someone

inside the Pakistani government.

A powerful moderate who could
help us institute a regime change.

How solid is this?

Solid enough to call off the air strikes.

I'll take it under advisement.

And can somebody please help
me get some rice around here?

- Ballsy.
- Or suicidal.

I always get those two things confused.

Be over target in five
minutes, and then it's dump and run.

Please tell me you can
read your instruments.

I'm trying, man, I'm trying.

Try harder.

I still can't tell which is the bomb
guidance and which is the fuel dump.

Pick one and pray you're right.

All right, I'm gonna
hit the one on the left.

No, check that. Actually, just
keep trying to figure it out.

Roger that.

When's the last opportunity
to recall our air strikes?

Mr. President, we've
penetrated Pakistani airspace.

We're five minutes from target.

My god, we're about to fuck
an entire country up the ass.

Mr. President, all I need is 24 hours.

To do what? None of your fucking business.

Mr. President, imagine
where we'd be right now

if JFK had launched
during the Missile Crisis.

We'd be the world's only superpower.

Of a charred, scorched earth.

This is it, Mr. President.
The kind of moment

that defines a president
throughout history.

A moment only greatness can achieve.

I believe you possess that greatness.

- Coming up on the target.
- Fuck.

I can't tell if I put
in the right coordinates, man.

We might end up taking out
a rug bazaar by mistake.

Not much we can do about that now.

Admiral, recall your units.

Oh, now, Mr. President...

This is the only chance we'll have
before Zaman hides his nuclear warheads.

Then it's goodbye, Tel Aviv.

Walter, I'm giving you 24
hours to show me some results.

Otherwise, we relaunch the air
strikes, and this time we don't recall.

Hammer 1-9, mission is aborted.

I repeat, aborted. Do you copy?

Roger that, flight op. A-borted.

Now you two better get
your asses back to fleet, pronto.

Admiral wants to see you.
You're in some deep shit.

- Fuck!
- Crap.

There goes my pension.

...getting some feeling back
on the right side of my body.

I gotta see my kids, man!

Bad news is I can't
move my left side at all.

For what?

Bowel and bladder control
is a complete mystery.

All I ever wanted to be
was a jet fighter pilot.

Eyesight's going from
triple to double vision.

Now I'm just cheap muscle for
a bunch of greedy politicians.

By the way, Z-Pak, I have no fucking
idea what you're talking about right now.

Please tell me you're
straight enough to land this thing.

- Huh?
- What?

- Can you hear me now?
- No, I didn't say anything.

It was an act of war!

To be fair, your drone had no business
flying over Pakistani airspace.

We do not consider that Pakistani airspace,
we consider it sovereign Indian territory.

I'm not getting sucked in to
that argument right now, Rakesh.

How do you remain so pro-Pakistan
when that crazy despot is threatening

- to blow up the world?
- I'm not taking sides.

You do this to me all
the time. We're talking

about one thing, you make it about another.

- Who are you? My wife?
- You insulted me.

- What? Are you still on that?
- You're a hothead.

It has always been your problem.

You're the only person in the diplomatic
world that talks to me like this.

Well, while we're on the subject,

I can't believe you went and
ratted me out to the prime minister.

That was a dick move!

Again you insult me. We have
nothing more to talk about.

- We damn well do!
- Good day.

Rakesh!

They don't give a rat's
ass about that drone.

They're just gonna use it as
an excuse to invade Kashmir.

Looks like this is moving up
to number one on our hit parade.

Gas up the plane. Leave
your cat with a friend.

Cancel my dick doctor appointment.

I had to beg to get him to squeeze you in.

He even postponed his trip to Cabo.

Raja or no Raja, I gotta get over
to New Delhi and buy some time.

They're not gonna start a war with Pakistan

while I'm over there with
my feet on the ground.

You hope. And between you and me, I
think Zaman might just be crazy enough

- to launch at Israel.
- Comforting news.

I'm gonna need a translator on this trip.

- Nayyara?
- Good idea.

Smart girl. London School
of Economics. Great shoes.

What is your connection to Walter Larson?

I'm his go-to guy.

- Go-to guy?
- Mm-hmm.

And he goes to you for what, exactly?

Advice on world events.

Diplomatic strategy.
Restaurant recommendations.

I'm very plugged in.

If you're so close to
the man, Mr. Go-to Guy,

how come you're not more important in
the chain of command at the embassy?

I'm not the kind of guy who expects
favors in return for my friendship.

You know, I think that's one of
the qualities that drew him to me.

What was that?

I'm guessing it was the
end of Vakeel Bashar.

Bashar?

You cannot install a corpse
as prime minister, now can you?

I was just with him. He's dead?

What are you gonna do to me?

Just a little technique we
learned from your CIA compatriots.

Apparently, your government does
not consider waterboarding torture.

Enhanced interrogation.
Sounds harmless enough, no?

No!

No! No! No! No! No!

Hammer, bring
it right. One, nine, zero.

I can't see a fucking thing.

In line for a court
martial, high on morphine.

Hail fucking Mary.

Flight op, talk to me.

Hammer one nine,
showing you well below glide slope.

Recommend missed approach.

I don't know, man. Maybe
we ought to listen to him.

No, I can do this.

Come on, Zeke!

Deep breaths.

Open your eyes.

What the fuck did you eat, man?

Well below glide slope.

- Hammer, do you copy?
- Fuck it.

I got this.

Oh, man, what a time to
finally start getting straight.

It's a good thing you already
shit your pants, Jammer.

Wave off. 'Cause
this is gonna be a rough landing.

Crash crew responding.

You're low, pull
up. You're low, pull up!

Add power! Add power!

Guys, guys! The truth.

Yes, I was at the bazaar
on a mission tonight

to score weed for a big
party at the embassy.

I like to get high with girls,
promise them green cards,

and sometimes they let me fuck them.

Not proud, but there you have it.

And, yes, I've always
wanted to be in the CIA.

I even applied a few times, but they
rejected me, the fucking fuckers.

So really you have no reason to do this.

I'm telling you the truth.

Surely there must be some more important

person you should be
waterboarding right now.

I'm just a mid-level
foreign service drone.

So then you have no connection
to Walter Larson at all?

I do, but I can't really
get into the details.

- Towel!
- No!

Guys, don't. Please take the
towel off. I can't breathe.

Oh god! Oh!

These are the couple of aces that puked
up their careers all over my goddamn plane?

I'll say this loud and simple;
it takes a special kind of idiot

to shoot down an Indian drone.

But it takes a full-blown moron

to do it over Pakistani soil.

You're an embarrassment to the flag,

the Navy, and the apes you evolved from.

- Yes, sir.
- Officially, you two are under detention,

pending an investigative
tribunal. But up here,

in my head, where it counts,

I just fed your dicks to the goddamn tuna.

Yes, sir.

And we'll be needing a urine
sample from the both of you.

Perhaps now you'll be more forthcoming

about your connection with Walter Larson.

I'm his pimp!

I procure women for him
when he's in Pakistan.

It's the truth, apparently he likes
girls to pretend to kill him during sex.

I had to warn them so they
didn't actually kill him.

Ah... so.

You do know Walter Larson.

I am General Haroon Raja.