All language subtitles for Waploaded_5587 Panama20221080pWEB-DLDD51H264-EVO

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...rejected by the
dictator of Panama, General Manuel Noriega.

...serviceman...

...contacted the...

Let me tell ya,
there's nothing more rock and roll

than taking out the bad guys
for the red, white and blue.

But every mission had its price,
and this last one was heavy.

If there's ever a guy needed for
a tough job, this was him. Becker.

The thing
about working as an operator

is you come up
against a lot of bad guys,

fuckheads like this.

Fuck!

Off the record,
his real name was James McLeod.

Now let's slow this down a bit.

I always knew
where to find him.

He's been passed out by his
wife's grave for over a year.

All right, Sam. Fetch him.

Hey, sweetheart.

Sweet,
but undisciplined.

But you'd know all about
that, wouldn't ya?

What do you want, John?

I have an assignment.

I'm not interested.

Sarah's been gone
for over a year now, Becker.

Fuck.

You spent that whole time
agonizing over your guilt.

You blame yourself, and hell,
you're probably right.

I mean, it was
your fault after all.

But if you're gonna
commit suicide over it,

just please, stick a gun in your
mouth, get it over with.

This waiting for your liver
to drop out could take years.

She died, John, because I
didn't protect her from me.

From what I do.

She was innocent.

I put her in danger.

Somehow I cheated
her out of her own fucking life.

And I didn't
get revenge for it.

That's not true, kid.
Not true.

We tracked and killed
all three of those... people.

You don't get it.
I needed to fucking kill them.

- Me.
- I understand. I get it.

Luckily for you, providence
placed the antidote

not too far away
from the poison.

You need a purpose,
I got one for ya.

It's far away from here.

Warm climate, sandy beaches,
palm trees.

Remember when you sold that tank
lander with a sinkhole in it?

Yeah, in Panama.

Panama.

Report to Nellis.

9:00 a.m., Monday morning.
We'll brief you.

Don't hold your breath.

I'll be turning blue.

Make it 10:00.

Come on, Sam.
Where are you?

His sister-in-law
checks in on him now and again.

Probably the only reason
he's still alive.

At least I made you laugh, huh?

Here. Drink.

Do you remember that?

We look happy, huh?

You could use a shower.

You sure Becker's the right guy? He's a Boy
Scout, and we're sending him to a whorehouse.

He's the best bullet catcher
we had once.

- He'll be fine.
- I wouldn't call this boy a scout.

His file looks like
an international rap sheet.

I've heard he's bullheaded and willful.
He may question command.

It's true. He has no respect for
rank and pretense of any kind.

- But that's a good thing, isn't it?
- Then he might go rogue.

If things don't go to plan,
I don't want that blood on my hands.

Blood on your hands?
Are you sure that's not lotion?

I wouldn't worry
about the blood, Burns.

After what you and I
did in Vietnam,

we'll spend an eternity
on the meat rack.

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

- Buen viaje.
- Gracias.

- Hey, bro.
- Stark.

I'd like you to meet Hank
Burns, outta SOCOM in DC.

He's here to aid and assist
where necessary.

Let's cut through all the bullshit.
What's your part?

Already I can tell by your
attitude you're asshole-validated.

Forewarned, you're not the
only US Marine standing here.

By the looks of you,
you're an 0141.

- Were you in the fucking air corps?
- And proud of it, grunt.

Conflict! I love it.
But we're here to work together.

Gung ho, semper fi, all that Marine
brotherhood shit. You know, all of that.

I'll do my job, Stark,
like I always do.

Just keep this CIA wannabe
away from me.

Good. Well, now we're all
buds, here's the deal.

Since the Iran-Contra bullshit,

Fort Sherman in Panama
is the CIA conduit

for supplying arms
to the contras in Nicaragua.

Noriega's become unreliable.

With all the cocaine
and Crown Royal in his system,

we never know which El
General we're talking to.

Operationally,
Panama's managed by Colonel Justines.

We consider him a friend.
He's very approachable.

The Boland Amendment bars the US from
selling arms directly to the contras,

so the CIA is constantly looking for
creative, cute new ways to fund them.

Now, the first order of business?
Buy a Russian chopper.

All right? Now, Burns here is an
expert in Soviet military equipment.

Now, with your level-three
clearance and user permit,

you are the perfect guy to make
the Russian chopper transaction.

Clear as mud? No?
Let me explain.

There are some friends of Uncle
Sam that wanna kill a guy,

and they want a Russian
chopper to do it, okay?

Now, we like that they're
gonna kill this guy,

so we're gonna shell out
to buy 'em a chopper.

- Yeah? Who's selling?
- Noriega. Fucking communist.

He wants ten mil transferred
to his personal Swiss account.

You gotta be
fucking kidding me.

Nope.
The contras want the chopper.

In return, they'll give us
Soviet weaponry and intel.

So we're buying a chopper from
Noriega and using it to kill him?

- I love the poetic irony in that, huh?
- I knew you would.

It tickles
the shit out of me.

Our contact for picking up
the chopper is in Panama.

Now, it's gonna take
a couple of weeks,

so tourist visa
ain't gonna cut it.

- Right, so I need a legitimate job.
- That's right.

So from now on, you're a
consultant for Casinos Nationale.

Bump up the revenue.
Reel in the suckers, okay?

We'll help ya.

Question for both of you.
Is this all legal?

Sure. Lawyers
are okay with it.

You gonna have
a problem with this?

You pay me, I act, Burns.
It's a simple fucking deal.

But you have opinions.

- I'll see ya, Stark.
- Yeah.

Only good ones.

There you go. Buddies.
Look at that.

Now, once you get settled,
you'll meet with Enrique Rodriguez.

His father was
a former government official

who died when Enrique was 12.

He's very connected
and Harvard educated.

Marcos Justines
is his godfather,

his uncle, Billy Ford,

who opposes Noriega
in the election.

Enrique is brokering
the chopper deal.

Now, we wired him
a clean million as a deposit,

but the dipshit
probably spent it already.

He's overly fond
of blow and hookers.

I'm Becker.

Hola. I'm to drive you
to see Señor Rodriguez.

- Same place.
- Okay.

No, no, I got it. It's fine.
Don't worry about it.

- It's my job, okay?
- Okay.

Gracias.

Señor Becker.

Señor Rodriguez.

- Pleasure.
- Pleasure.

- Sit.
- Thank you.

My friends
call me Enrique.

- I expect you to call me the same.
- All right.

What do your friends
call you?

- Becker.
- Becker.

What do your girlfriends
call you?

- The same.
- Becker?

Yeah.

- Simple enough.
- Yes, sir.

- This is Valentina, my fiancée.
- Mucho gusto.

Mi amor, Señor Becker and I
need to discuss business.

Catch you later? Yeah?

Kiss.

Enrique,
that's a lovely lady.

A bitch.

- So, you like this place?
- Yeah, yeah, sure. It's nice.

All right. Pablo.

Leave the bags.

- It's yours.
- Thank you. Thank you.

So, let's talk about
the helicopter, shall we?

Hmm.

Later. I don't usually talk about
business this late in the day.

But we're going to
have plenty of time

for such a tedious discussion.

Relax. Sophia.

This is Sophia, my fiancée.

I like it.

Nice to meet you.

Cariño mío,

Señor Becker and I
are discussing business.

Meet you later
at the pool?

Come.

Panama has lots to offer
a man like you.

Just settle in.

Enjoy yourself.

In time we'll make
our deal. Drink?

Shot of whiskey,
if you don't mind.

Cheers.

Ah, Isabella.

Man, I thought
the '70s were sexy.

There's nothing like the '80s.

Isabella, meet Señor Becker.

Becker, I am pleased to introduce
you my fiancée, Isabella.

Nice to...

You're a lucky man, señor.

- Welcome.
- Yeah.

James McLeod.

What did you say?

James McLeod.

Nobody's called me that
since high school.

- Who are you?
- Brooklyn Rivera.

- Brooklyn, huh?
- My father was a Dodgers fan.

Yeah. You part
of the contras or what?

We prefer
the term Commandos.

The term contra-revolution

implies we're trying
to restore the government

prior
to the Sandinista revolution.

We certainly are not.

So are you here to discuss
the chopper deal or what?

I cannot make a deal without
the consent of my comandante,

Steadman Fagoth Muller.

- Steadman Muller?
- Steadman Fagoth Muller.

He's very peculiar
about how he's addressed.

When he was a child, his middle
name was the subject of teasing,

so he beat up everyone who
tried to make a joke of it

and forced them all
to call him by his full name.

Yeah, he sounds
like an asshole to me.

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

Tell you what.
Why don't we meet up in my suite

in, say, an hour,
hour and a half, all right?

You don't understand.
I have a plane waiting.

- A plane?
- Courtesy of your Department of Defense.

Mr. Burns will be there.

Man, I just
got off a plane.

Where are we going?

Miami.

We going to the safe
house in Little Havana?

No, not that one.

You'll like it.

Turn here.

You know, if you're taking me
to the safe house, Burns,

you should probably
put a hood on me.

You were vetted.
Level three.

Stick your tongue out,
please.

Huh?

I said, stick
your tongue out, please.

No, thanks.

In Tibet,
it's a traditional greeting

to know if your visitor
has evil thoughts.

Do you have evil thoughts,
Mr. Becker?

Yeah, all the time.

- Uh-huh.
- Yeah.

In America,
we shake hands.

- That's how it works.
- Okay.

A firm handshake, but not too firm.
I like that.

Sometimes people
like to shake too firmly

and try to hide something,
and that makes me suspicious.

Mm-hmm.
Make you sound paranoid.

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

No, no, no, it's okay.
It's okay.

You say what is
in your mind, don't you?

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

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

- Take a seat, please.
- Thank you.

I hear that you want
Soviet communication equipment.

As much as you can supply.

And in exchange?

A Soviet helicopter.

That's what I wanna hear.

And what is in it
for you?

What do you mean?
Profit.

That's the only reason?

Is there anything else?

Papá y mamá.

My parents.

Sandinistas came in the
middle of the night,

woke them up
and shot them.

And my wife
and my daughter.

Noriega ordered them killed.

The soldiers raped my 12-year-old
daughter just in front of my wife.

They shot them both in their face
and threw their bodies in a ditch.

I am blamed because I wasn't
there to protect them.

I'm sorry. I am.

You see, it doesn't matter
how many Sandinistas we kill.

It is never enough.

I have 3,000 men

in the mountain
of Rus Rus.

And all they want
is kill Sandinistas.

They don't fight for democracy
as your government pretends.

They don't even know
what that's for.

They just want revenge.

- Hmm.
- For the same reason I do.

I know, I understand.

Tomorrow morning
you're gonna go to Honduras

with Brooklyn
to our refugee camp,

and perhaps you'll truly
understand, Mr. Becker.

Too many children here
with their families destroyed.

Why? What happened?

Their fathers
and mothers killed.

Hola.

You can sit next to her.

Puedo?

Gracias.

They cut open
my father's stomach

and let him bleed
until he was dead.

And then told my mom
we were free to go.

When we started walking,
they shot her in the back.

I ran away.

Then they told
everyone she was killed

while she was trying
to escape.

So how can I help you?

Deliver
that Soviet helicopter.

Until then...

help us kill
some bad guys.

Comandante.

Mr. Becker.

Okay. Vamos.

You like rock music?

I'm more
of a Willie Nelson guy.

- We'll make you a rock fan.
- I doubt it.

Welcome to the jungle!

Hey, who's on drums?

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

All right, go ahead.
Quick. Let's go. Move.

What the fuck are you doing?

You just killed a doctor
and a civilian.

I thought you Americans
hated Bolsheviks, huh?

You sound like a civilian.
I thought you were a soldier.

This is your nurse?
Look at your nurse.

Huh?

Perhaps this is your doctor.

They would have killed you
the second you turned away.

So now you see
the war that we fight.

Huh?

And bring me that chopper
if you want this equipment.

Jackie Cordoza was the
biggest casino operator in Panama.

I mean that in every damn way.

- Señor Cordoza.
- Mr. Becker.

- Nice to finally meet you.
- You too, sir.

Becker, you were hired to increase
the take at the Casinos Nationale.

- Sí.
- And the general here expects results.

I'll do the best I can.
I will.

Well, please get to know
the operation.

- But a word of advice, Becker.
- Yeah?

- Don't look too deeply.
- Understand.

Good.
How was your weekend?

- Idyllic, yeah. It was the best.
- Good. Excellent.

Let me show you...
Oh.

Let me give you
the grand tour.

The thing
about drug dealers like Enrique

is that they always answer to someone with bigger cojones.

And those McNuggets
belong to the colonel.

Colonel Marcos Justines,

the second-most powerful man
in Panama behind Noriega.

Enrique, lovely to see you.

Colonel Justines.
Come in, please.

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

- Champagne?
- Please.

Please, come in.

So...

- You have plan for this evening?
- You know me.

I have plans
every night.

Of course.
And it always involves chiquillas.

Time to pay Cordoza
once again.

El Gordo?

Yes, the Fat Man,
as you call him.

Do you feel like gambling?

- Sure.
- Good.

He will be at the
Marriott casino tonight.

Hundred thousand.
Make sure you lose it all.

And here is, uh...

Thank you, Colonel.

The helicopter deal.

I'll get my usual taste
of that, I presume?

A taste?

You can have
the entire appetizer.

They wired
a million down.

And I will get it to you
all in cash. All of it.

Excellent.

Tell me something.

Will you torture this Becker the
way you do all your customers?

As usual, I will squeeze
more money out of him

than he expects to pay.

And we'll both benefit
from the extra cash, Colonel.

Salud, Colonel.

It's always a pleasure.

Mr. Becker.

You a narc or a spook?

Narc.

Sit down.

- Do I know you?
- You should.

We can help
each other out.

What if I
don't need any help?

Stark thought you might.

I was told you have
a level-three clearance.

You'd be
a valuable asset to us.

A lot of money passes
through those casinos.

I need documentation,
and you're in a position to get it for me.

What kind of documentation?

Well, money is being
laundered in a massive scale

through the casino.

I need the cage reports.

I need to know
where the money's going.

Talking about drug money?
What are you talking about?

Oh, whatever it is
or it isn't,

that's not important to me.

Let the DEA arrest the drug dealers.
I thought that was the idea.

We want evidence
incriminating Noriega.

The CIA is financing
the opposite ticket.

They're pouring in
$50 million.

Isn't that
against the rules?

Meddling with another
country's election?

My organization is working on
the other side of the equation.

We're building evidence
against Noriega.

You were saying
how we can help each other.

Doors will open.

You can get me
those reports,

I can arrange for some
cash to find its way

into an offshore account
of yours somewhere.

- Tell me another way you can help me.
- We have resources.

Some day
you will need me.

It seems to weigh
just right.

The serial number on the .45 is a code.
Memorize it.

If you have a problem, call the
office, give the respondent the number,

we'll provide you
with assistance.

Cynthia.
Now you're being helpful.

Take care of business.

Hello.

Enrique, I looked up
your gaming history.

I gotta be honest.
You're a horrible gambler.

- Surely that's not a complaint.
- Nah, nah, nah.

I heard your drink of choice
is champagne. Is that right?

- It is.
- Yeah?

No champagne is complete
without some chochas.

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

Wanna join?

Why not? Yeah.

I will show you
a good time, Becker.

And about the helicopter deal,
we can talk about it later.

How come a guy like you
is here alone?

Guess I'm waiting for a woman like you.

Camila. One in a million.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, cowboy.

That one
you don't wanna mess with.

- She's dangerous.
- How so?

She's connected
to the wrong people.

You know, Enrique, you like
living dangerously, don't you?

- Always.
- Yeah.

Makes you feel alive,
right?

- Yes, it does.
- Yeah.

So, let me live.

I'm Becker.
What's your name?

You're drunk.

Hmm. Yeah.

But I ain't
fucking blind.

You know, you sure
are beautiful.

And you are a handsome man,
but you're still drunk.

Yeah, well, that can be
rectified, you know.

Don't bother.

I'll ruin your life.

It's already ruined.

You are un poquito loco.

Yeah, that is true.

If you want a sane man,
you got Enrique over there.

Now, there you are wrong.

He's definitely not sane.

But at least he's smart
enough to not hit on me.

Well, I guess
maybe I'm stupid then.

- Yes, you are.
- Yeah.

I like stupid men.

- As long as they are rich.
- Oh, shit.

Now we're getting
somewhere, baby.

Well...

Well what?

Shall we go to bed?

Damn, you are sexy.

Shh.

It's only gonna work out
if you don't talk, okay?

Hey, hey, hey. Slow down.

Ready for this one?

Yes! Whoo!

Whoo!

When I win, everybody wins.

And to make this evening
more interesting...

I'm all in.

- You roll, my dear.
- Really?

Yeah.

Excellent.

Whoo! So now that I ran out of
chips, we can go back to the bar.

Huh?
You ready for that?

Yes? Come on.

Sex for me helps
to keep my demons away.

- Sex and alcohol.
- Mm.

Show me your arm.

Is that one of your demons?

A gang
back in Colombia.

Well, you done
with all that?

That's why I move here.

I used to dream,
you know.

I had lots of dreams.

About what?

About...

running away
with someone.

Someone special.

Oh, yeah? What happened?

When I was 14,
I was purchased by my patrón.

I actually wanted
to be sold.

Couldn't wait.

Because... anything was better
than how I was living.

My father
ripped me from home

and just gave me away

in an exchange for two
cows and 500 pesos.

That's horrible.

That was a long time ago.
Don't worry.

I have learned to survive
by my wits and my body.

My looks are just
a commodity to me.

To be bought and sold.

A question for you.

Am I gonna
get a bill for this?

I knew you would ask that.

It's my day off.

Shit.

Baby, I could run away with you.
You know that?

You don't want to get
to know me first?

Shouldn't you get that?

Ready? Yes?

Becker!

I heard you ride motorcycles.
Is that true?

A little bit. Yeah.

Well, I'm gonna give you the
thrill of your life in the morning.

Since you insist on living dangerously.

All right.
See you then.

Whoo!

Hair of the dog,
my friend.

Today we test
our skills.

I have an obstacle course
cut into the jungle.

Let's see if you can
keep up with me.

I'm not into dirt bikes.
I'm more into cruisers.

You Americans
and the Harleys.

I would fall asleep
in one of those.

Real men go off road.

Listen, if you win,
you keep this helicopter.

If you don't,
I'll sell it to someone else.

Deal?

Drug dealers love the
natural stuff, too... adrenaline.

Never met one who wasn't
a complete fucking nutjob.

Don't feel
so badly, señor.

No one has ever lasted
as long as you have.

We're gonna be
good friends, you and I.

Nope.
No, on the right side. Yeah.

- Oh, fuck.
- Sorry.

Enrique's an arrogant prick.

Yeah, but that son of a bitch
can ride a dirt bike though.

Hello.

Fucking asshole.
Goddamn.

- Dónde está Enrique?
- En el cuarto.

Yeah.

Enrique.

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

You need to adjust
your fucking business hours.

Would you like one?

- No, no, I'm good.
- Glenmorangie.

Eighteen year old.

Single malt.

Mm.

So, what can I do for you?

My understanding is they're
selling the helo to another buyer.

Is that right?

- Yes.
- Why?

Because you lost
the motorcycle race, Becker.

Fuck you.

- I'm sorry.
- No, no.

We paid you a million
dollars in advance,

and you cashed
the fucking wire.

Now, I'd like
the money back, please.

That was
a nonrefundable deposit.

Enrique, I don't do
nonrefundable.

I'm asking ya nicely,
kid.

And they say good manners
don't cost anything, right?

Okay, look. Let me make it
real fucking simple for you.

You either give me the
money or I'll take it.

Your whores down in the
casino, they got loose lips.

I know you got the money in here,
so show me where the fuck it is.

Yeah, he had it
in a fucking speaker.

I used to hide Playboys
in a speaker when I was ten.

- There's your fucking money.
- Good.

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

I hope you know
what you're doing.

We continue the struggle.

- Anything you need, jefe?
- No, Pablo.

How's your beautiful family?

Oh, they are muy bien.

I love them so much.

Well, I want you
to go home.

I don't need you until tomorrow.
All right?

Whatever you say.
Thank you.

Thank you.

- Now, what's this?
- It's evidence. Cage reports.

It's what you wanted, right?

It's exactly what I wanted.
So, what can I do for you?

I need you to get Enrique to sell me the
helicopter for the price we agreed upon.

Why would I play a card for a
business deal that means nothing?

It's not nothing.

If you don't help me, then I'm just gonna
raise some old-fashioned fucking revenge.

- You hear me?
- Oh, my God. Get over it, Becker.

Okay? There's
a shitstorm coming,

and your helicopter deal
is just one of its casualties.

Don't do anything stupid.

...to
defend democracy in Panama,

to combat drug trafficking

and to protect the integrity
of the Panama Canal Treaty.

Many attempts have been made
to resolve this crisis

through diplomacy
and negotiation,

to urge General Noriega
to honor the clear results...

Jesus Christ,
what a mess.

I'm gonna take the call
in the bedroom, all right?

Wish you would take me in the bedroom.

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

Promise?

I understand that Carlos and...

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

- Getting pretty wild, huh?
- It is.

- Did you hear our chopper deal went south?
- Yeah, I did.

- Well, I got the million.
- Hey, good man.

Panama's about to explode.

I wouldn't be surprised if we
invade, the way things are going.

I hope you let me know if they start
dropping fucking bombs down here.

Yeah, I'll give you
a heads up on that one.

Listen, Becker.
The favor you asked of the DEA?

I get it.

But stand down. Enrique
will be dealt with, okay?

Stark, there's good people down
here that need that chopper.

Yeah, I know, I know.

We'll help them when we can,
but now is not the time.

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

But the best I can do right now is
get you a big, fat Christmas bonus

for putting up with the
bullshit, all right?

So...

you were saying something
about the couch?

I believe we were,
yeah.

Yes?

Enrique. Join us.

Santos.

Been worried.

My uncle was attacked.

Nothing to worry about.

He's in good health.

Pure theatrics,
mi chiquillo.

A public relations stunt
planned well in advance.

Your tío is now
a national hero.

My idea.

Why?
I don't understand.

Endara and my uncle
are the opposition.

If they come to power,
they will not act in your interest.

My friend,

the prudent action on my part
is to bet on both outcomes.

Both outcomes?

Okay.

If America invades,
Endara and your uncle take power.

If they don't,
Noriega remains.

Either way, I win.

I staged this event with the
cooperation of your uncle

and his advisers.

You see, we need
blood in the streets

if we want to provoke
an invasion.

Meanwhile, we need
to clean up loose ends.

Cordoza, for once.

He knows too much.

And your American friend,
in particular.

I rather like Becker.

Don't get sentimental.

He's tied in with Cordoza.

He works at the casino.

We don't know what he knows
or who he talks to.

You can't trust Americans.

He took my money.

So get rid of him
and anyone else close to him

and get
my million dollar back.

And just like that,
the colonel wanted everyone dead.

Americano.
Becker.

The big corporate news networks
are reporting

the casualties are less
than a hundred people,

but that simply isn't true.

There are scores of Panamanians
out there dead,

and there are more desperately
seeking medical attention.

And the government?

The government have closed down all
access to the hospitals. All of them.

This is an emergency situation,

and you need to leave
immediately.

So who can I count on?

Oh, yeah.

- Where are you going?
- I need a smoke.

Bring it back to bed, baby.

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

You say that
like it's a bad thing.

Let me get a puff of
that, will ya?

All yours.

Where are you going?

- I'm going to pour us a drink.
- Mm.

Camila?

Fuck!

If you don't tell me
who sent you,

I'm gonna
fucking kill you.

- Fuck you.
- Ingles, no?

Okay.

You know what?

Here's the thing
about torture.

It's sometimes
the most effective way.

It's the simplest.

Who fucking sent you?

Enrique!
Enrique Rodriguez.

Enrique?

Yeah.

Really?

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

Hello?

I got a couple bodies at Camila's
apartment. They need to be picked up.

- Which apartment?
- What do you mean, what apartment?

She has two. One she lives in
and one she entertains in.

Well, I guess I'm in
the one that entertains.

She has another one
in Punta Paitilla.

You want the address?

You look startled.

Thank God you're alive.

It's amazing how you can
just turn it on like that.

I mean it.

Ask me if I set you up.

Okay. Did you?

Yes.

The Colombians,
they threatened to kill my family.

It was either you or them, and I will
make the same choice again if I have to.

I'm not buying that story.

I don't have a family, Camila.

What a dumbass.

But aren't we all?

Amigo.

Amigos don't try
to kill each other.

Are you mad at me?

I know it wasn't your orders.

Thank you for understanding.

You see,
this is just business.

Your country's military will have
secured Panama in a few hours.

And then they will swear in
Guillermo Endara as president

and my uncle as vice president.

You're uncle's a crook,
Enrique.

He's a politician.

I choose the good life.

The booze, cash.

The pussy.

Come here, honey.

See that?

That's a man's morality,
my friend.

The only god.

The resurrection and life.

Our refuge and strength.

Tell you something, my friend.
Get out of here.

If you wanna live in the
definition of your morality,

then you're gonna tell me
who tried to fucking kill me.

- Can't do that.
- Yeah, no, you're gonna do it.

You wanna die, Enrique?

- We're amigos.
- Nah.

You contradicted
yourself.

Sometimes amigos
do kill each other.

Colonel Justines.

Marcos Justines.

Thanks, amigo.

Enrique?

Colonel Justines.

I, uh...

I believe I have
bad news for you.

Becker's still alive.

He was here.

And somehow he knew that...

he knew that you, uh...

you ordered me
to have him killed.

No worries, mi chico.

I'll handle Señor Becker.

Come see me.

Let's have coffee.

Señor Burns.

Enrique failed.
No surprise there.

But it presents an excellent
opportunity for us to do business.

I'm all ears, Colonel.

Your compadre, Becker,
has stolen from me.

It's front money from Stark.

One million.

I would like you to retrieve it.

Upon your success,
we will do the usual split.

I appreciate
the opportunity, Colonel,

but 50/50
won't cut it this time.

Okay. You keep the money.
All of it.

But remember,
you're in Panama.

I'm in charge
of the police and the army.

Are you certain you don't
want some political cover

for this caper of yours?

Standard split after expenses.

We know one
of Becker's weak points.

She's in Panama.

Good. Good then.

After you retrieve my cash,

drive to your finka
outside David.

I'll send my man there
in a couple of days.

Not only
do they want to kill me,

they want the fucking
million dollars back.

- That's why they tore the place apart.
- They get it?

No, no, no. I hid it in a
place they'll never find it.

Listen, Panama's
getting out of hand.

They won't stop
looking for that money.

It's your call. You want to get out
of there and come back stateside?

Not yet, Stark.

Okay. Stay in touch.

I'm on my way.

Okay,
this is where I come in to clean it up.

Camila?

Fuck. Hey.

Honey. Hey.

Oh, fuck.

When your father passed,
you were still a baby.

I tried to step in to fill
that void left by your father.

But so often
I feel I have failed.

No, Colonel.

You were always
there for me.

I was so proud of you.

I was so proud of your
academic achievement.

Graduating cum laude
at Harvard.

Getting your MBA.

What happened?

My mother died.
It proved that life was like a candle

lit in an empty hallway.

She was a saint,

and God took her like
she was cualquier persona.

How did Becker find out it
was me who ordered him killed?

I don't know.

Don't lie to me.

I'm sorry.

You are out of control.

Thank goodness
you have no wife.

No babies.

Why, Colonel?

I will never talk.

What was in the coffee?

Something
to make this go easy.

I can't move my arms.

You're a good boy.

This is bigger than just you and me.

I will miss you.

I will revere this spot
in the garden... forever.

Does it make you feel
good to kill a woman?

Hmm?

Señor Becker, I presume.

I'm gonna make you
fucking suffer.

Okay.

Ooh-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo.

I'm afraid this is a
standoff, don't you think?

We both have weapons
pointed at each other.

I think you should
calm yourself, señor.

Now... I'm going
to make a call.

The person at the other end
may help you understand, okay?

Okay.

It seems killing Señor Becker
just makes him more angry.

He's here, and he has
a gun pointed at me.

Perhaps
you should talk to him.

- Put it down.
- Sure.

Please.

Who is this?

Everyone you ever care
about seems to die, Becker.

Burns?

Your wife Sarah.

You motherfucker, you.

Camila.

And now Tatyana.

What are you talking about?

Becker.

Tatyana?

What's going on?

Tatyana?

But you have a chance, Becker.
A chance to save her.

You piece of shit.

We will arrange a trade.

Give me the million dollars
you stole from me,

and you get her back.

- Yeah.
- Alive and in one piece.

The fuck's going on?

- You tell Burns to let her go.
- Let who go?

Tatyana!

Your sister-in-law.
What about her?

Listen to me, John.

He's asking me to give
Justines the million dollars

- or he's gonna kill her.
- Shit.

- What the fuck is she doing here?
- I don't know.

My advice? Pay the man.

- Pay him?
- Yeah.

That's it? Come on.
Let me kill him, John.

No. Arrange the trade, get her back.
Take care of him later.

- I don't trust him.
- He's an untrustworthy motherfucker.

You're gonna need backup.
I'm going with ya.

- Last time you were in the field?
- A long time ago.

I'm rusty.

You wanna be the bait
or the hook?

I suppose it is my turn.

Make sure you hit him in the head.

I was talking to myself.

Make sure you break his neck

after you stick him.

Drop it. Cool.

Been keeping
an eye on us.

Stark will take you
somewhere safe, all right?

I'm glad you're in one piece.
Nice to see ya again.

Well,
it's nice to be seen again.

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

You'll survive.

Want some chocolate?

Rumor surfaced that
Burns had been double dealing

with the CIA payments,

so their command has been tapping
his phones for the last six months.

Apparently, he's very tight
with Justines.

Burns is heading for Justines'
ranch outside of Chiriqui tomorrow.

There's a safe house about
500 yards from the ranch.

He's driving,
you're flying on a small plane.

One of my guys will pick you up in
Chiriqui, take you to the finka.

I'll arrange for security
to take the night off.

Rest is up to you.

I'll get the job done.

This detail is essential.

After you get our money back,
turn the lights on.

Ask Burns to leave
the way he came in.

Wait 20 minutes,
then head to the airport.

There'll be another plane
ready to take you back.

Mr. Burns.

Sit.

I've positioned
a chair for you.

You armed?

No, but my driver is.
He's in the car.

With your left arm,
swing the bag in front of your chair.

Good. Now with your right
leg, push it towards me.

Now, as much
as I'd like to kill you,

I've been ordered
to let you go, so go.

Oh, and, Mr. Burns,
one last thing.

If I ever see you again,
you're dead.

Nice.

- Should we bag Justines?
- Not our unit.

Your DEA friend has got all
the information you gave her.

She'll give it to Panama.
Let them juggle the turds.

Well, shit. Let's go find
a bottle of whiskey then.

No, no, no. Not so fast. First you
gotta deliver that chopper to Muller.

Then it's happy hour.

After I deliver the bird,

I'm going on vacation, John.

Well, good.

Good man.

I have a question
for you, John.

Do you believe
in redemption?

Hmm.

The question's flawed.

Redemption implies that we've
committed some kind of sin

and that there's some kind of
higher power that can absolve us.

Both notions I reject.

It's important
you forgive yourself.

I'll see you, brother.

See ya, buddy.

I gotta clean this shit up.

Muller finally got his chopper.

He never killed Noriega
with it.

Matter of fact,
he never killed anyone with it.

He took the high road.
Rescued 200 families instead.

I think he'd finally seen
enough killing.

We caught Noriega
with his drawers down.

Seized a shit ton of cocaine,
cash and Crown Royal.

Well, the Crown Royal
didn't make it too far.

And as you see, Becker
finally got that vacation.

Romantic walks on the beach,
all by himself.

Just another jerk in the surf.

Provided by explosiveskull
https://twitter.com/kaboomskull