All language subtitles for Wrong.Is.Right.1982.1080p.WEBRip.x265-RARBG_English

MAN:
It was a time when
outer space

was filled
with incredible machines

whose telescopic
eyes and ears

witnessed
our most sensitive secrets...

information that could,
and did,

change the fate of nations.

It was a time
when no one on Earth

could hide from technology.

No people, no continent,

no one was safe
from spy satellites.

It all could have happened
in the recent past...

or the present...

or even in the near future.

But it didn't.

It did happen

in that elusive time
between now and later,

that time when dark is light,

when down is up,
when foul is fair,

when...

Get the money!

Get the money!

Get the money!
Get the money!

Oh!

Harry?

Touchdown!

Ma'am, how long

have you wanted
to kill him?

I don't know.

Years, I guess.

Every night,
he comes home,

same thing--
on with the TV.

Football,
basketball,

boxing, beer.

Missus, you okay?

Feeling a lot better,
now, huh?

Ever so.

This won't
inspire you

to shoot
your real husband, hmm?

No, Mr. Hale, not
if I can do it here.

Then it was worth
the $400 fee?

Oh, yes.

Tonight our special report

comes to you
from the Happy Farm,

the latest craze
sweeping New York.

Here, for a price,

you can safely work out
your fantasies of violence.

Here, you can murder
your father or your mother,

or even both,

which is easily
the most popular crime

on the program.

And how are you going
to kill your folks, Miss?

Poison.

I can't stand
blood.

Why do you hate them?

Oh, I don't.

It's...
it's just that

they're, you know,
useless.

Don't you feel guilty?

I'd rather live
with the guilt

than with my parents.

What if they're watching
this broadcast?

Oh, God...

I hope so.

Is it entertainment
or therapy?

Is violence becoming
the national pastime?

Is murder as American
as apple pie?

Roll it.
Rolling.

We've logged
a thousand calls.

Biggest Nielsen we ever had.

This was a special report
by Patrick Hale.

HALE:
When I first met King Awad,

he was unknown.

His country was sand,
wandering Bedouins,

poverty, and illiteracy.

His home was a tent,

where he lived alone,
prayed alone,

and listened
to his desert voices.

A few years ago,
the mystical voices,

prompted by American
engineers, of course,

whispered the magic word...

"Oil."

Oil...

an ocean of it
under this emptiness.

Instant billions...
instant power...

instant changes.

Commercial!
Go to commercial!

Is he hurt?

Is he all right?

Now! Now!
Okay, roll, nine.

Rolling.

And ready, take nine.

No, I don't know.

We've got to keep
these lines clear.

Did you get through?

On the satellite
audio circuit.

How is he?

Are you all right?

Yeah.
That was Awad's car.

Yeah.

Mike!

New York calling!

Press.

It's the boss.

Mr. Hale.

Sally Blake,
Globe Syndicate.

Well, what are you
doing here?

A story on
what you're doing here.

Let's see...
You were an actor?

And a coal miner,

and a bartender,
and a sailor,

and a soldier of misfortune,
et cetera, et cetera.

How'd you end up
in television?

I was invented for it.

Instant heroes--

Football stars,

baseball,
golf and tennis stars.

A galaxy of stars.

Famous names,
gorgeous dames,

crashing cars...
superstars, like me.

Wish it were me.

Married?

Uh-uh. Just lucky.

Lots of girls?

Oh, off and on,
hit and run.

No commitments,

like the rest
of television.

How is the love life
of a superstar?

Oh, it has
its ups and downs.

What's the best thing
you've done?

Not written
my autobiography.

Mind if I use that?

Hell, that isn't news.

Besides, you've already
got it on your tape.

Why did King Awad
send for you?

I'll know tomorrow.

Why is tomorrow

the most important day
in his life?

It is?

Death to America!

Death to America!

Death to President Lockwood!

Death to Jews!

Can you operate
a movie camera?

Even this one.

Okay, cover me.

Hey, wait!

Hey, wait!
Wait.

Death to Jews!

Where is he?

Get the cow.

Bloody fools.
Look at them.

Lovely.

I am not American.

I am not President Lockwood,

and I am not now
and never was--

Easy, easy.

And so help me, God,
I never intend to be a Jew!

You're going to have
to pay $200 for the cow.

Thank you.

Those bums,

they'll rob me
when they see my money.

If you don't pay,

first they'll bury you,
then they'll kill you,

and then they'll rob you.

They wouldn't take
my personal check,

would they?

Not even American Express.

About the sailboat,
my apologies.

I will pay for the damage.

Mr. Unger.

Have we met before?

Met?

You know my name.

On your business card.

Really?

Those suitcases,
heavy.

Mm-hmm.

Valuable?

Oh, they're presents
for King Awad.

You really
his friend?

The man has got
many friends.

He's a saint.

Why would a saint
meet secretly

with the world's
bloodiest terrorist?

If it was such a secret,
how come you know of it?

King Awad
met with Rafeeq?

Twice.

I don't believe it.

Do you?

I am not political.

Nice camera
you've got here.

Is it American?

Mister...

Unger.

Mr. Unger, what do you
export from here?

Oil.

God bless oil.

My dear, God is oil.

Thanks
for the ride.

Madam, my eternal
gratitude.

What does he really
export

Death.

Helmut Unger,

slickest arms dealer
in Europe.

Guns, planes, tanks,
poison gas,

you name it,
he's got it.

And we've got company.

U.S. Embassy,
Homer Hubbard.

Nobody else.

It's faster by phone.

Our embassy phones
are bugged.

Cocktail later?

You've just
won my heart.

I'm calling for Marcus.

This is his cousin.

411-9000.

This is your cousin, Sally.

Yes, urgent.

No, now. Same place.

Hey, I've got to see
a Mr. Homer Hubbard.

Homer Hubbard!

Give me her exact words.

Quote, "Humpty Dumpty's
ready to fall."

Mike.

Nothing else?

She had to see
her cousin--

business, urgent.

Damn. Move it!

Two suitcases...

three feet long...

two-and-a-half feet
high...

nine to ten inches
thick.

Weight,
about 90 pounds.

Highly radioactive.

Now.

This all happened
four hours ago.

Sally Blake, American
reporter, killed instantly.

The police here claim
that the man with her

was an Israeli secret agent.

The terrorist Jew
dies by his own bomb.

No question.

The woman is spying
for the CIA.

No question!

No question.

I tried to reach
Jack Philindros,

director of the CIA.

He wasn't in.
He wasn't out.

He was, I suppose,
somewhere in between.

Said Homer Hubbard,
embassy official--

Sally Blake
was murdered

to suppress
the truth.

The truth about what?

About whoever
killed her.

What's happened
to the American image?

How did America
become a dirty name?

Mr. President--

We don't hate
the American people.

Except the Jews!
No question!

And President
Lockwood!

No question!

Jack Philindros
just phoned from his car.

He suggests we alert
the Secretary of Defense,

the Vice President,
General Wombat--

Do it.

Can do.

The Post says that

Mallory's coming out
with a statement

about Sally Blake.

Don't they know
Mallory's crazy?

He was crazy
when he was a senator.

He was even crazier
when he was president.

He's crazy enough
to be insane.

Yes, sir.
No question.

The ghost of Sally Blake

cries out
for American justice,

and what's President Lockwood
doing about it?

Nothing.

Bunch of raggedy riffs
over there

screaming, "Death to America."

And what is America's answer?
Nothing.

The A-rabs
raised the price of oil

four times in two years,

and they'll
raise it again,

and what are we going
to do about that?

CROWD: Nothing!

Four years of Lockwood

has changed us
from strong to weak,

from proud to puny,

from fearless to faceless.

Is that what you want?

CROWD: No!

All right!

Are you ready
to march with Mallory?

CROWD: Yes!

That poor young woman.

Oh, Sally Blake.

Terrible,
terrible.

They say
she was my enemy.

Well, perhaps
those who say it

are your enemy.

It was not
our doing.

Tell your people,
yes?

Tomorrow--

Tomorrow is
the most important day

of my life.

Tomorrow
I must do God's will.

Pray for me, my friend.

Pat!

Your Majesty,

one moment.

Your birthday gift.

You remembered.

Yes, a little late, but...

you look through here
and press that.

I know, I know.

Make a happy face.

Oh.

Oh.

What's the matter?

Nothing.

Thank you.

Bless you.

Tomorrow I have for you
a great surprise.

I watched him speed away
to his beloved desert

and his omniscient voices...

voices that may decide
his destiny tomorrow.

This is Patrick Hale
in Hagreb.

Voices in the desert?

Crackpot.

Never knew a Turk
who wasn't.

King Awad is not a Turk,

and even if he were,
so what?

When somebody starts
hearing voices...

Seriously, Mr. President.

Joan of Arc
heard voices.

Moses heard them too.

General Patton didn't.

Jesus did!

MacArthur didn't.

General Wombat,

there's nothing wrong
with hearing voices.

The desert
affects people,

and if they're sensitive,
they just hear voices.

Do you, Mr. President?
Hear them?

Maybe even once in a while?

No. And I don't see
flying saucers,

like a certain sauced-up
General "Galloping" Wombat.

I saw them, all right, sir.

Did I say
you didn't?

Did I?

You say you saw them,

all right,
so you saw them.

And some people say
they hear voices.

Okay?

Okay.

Associated Press.

Not now.
Jack?

It's election time.

Name's Tom, married.

Mr. President,

we're running
out of time, sir.

Tom boy, how's the family?

Hold it, fella.

Of course I intend

to do something
about Sally Blake.

What about Patrick Hale?

Disappeared where?

Sally Blake was not a CIA spy.

Definitely.

Yes, you can
quote me on that.

Hacker,
will you find out

where the hell Hale
has disappeared to?

I'm on it now, sir.

Jack, can we get on
with it, please?

Yes, sir, but this
is top security, sir.

I know that, Jackie.

Oh, this is Reverend
Billy Bob Harper.

Didn't we meet
on my last crusade?

No, sir.

The night 14,000
were born again?

I wasn't one of them.

Sir, we are facing
a national crisis.

And Billy Bob
is going to lead us

in a prayer, just like
before a ball game.

There's no time.

No time for God,
Jackie?

Bless you, Mr. President.

If you know who I am,
why the handprint?

Nobody gets in here
without--

Mrs. Ford,

will you please
put your hand on that light?

Thank you, ma'am.

Just a lot of white tape.

Mrs. Ford, I believe
you've met everybody.

Not me,
not eyeball to eyeball.

Meet the Vice President
of the United States.

Ma'am.

General Wombat

heads our task force
fighting terrorism.

Eyeball to eyeball, I'm sure.

Mr. President--

Shoot, Jack,
and aim at Mallory.

The Eye of Gaza.

You've heard of it?

Terrorists.

The deadliest.

Spy satellite.
One of ours.

Can read a license plate
from outer space.

Can tap a telephone
conversation

in Russia,

China,
anywhere on Earth.

Picture's coming in now.

Enemy training camp,
North Africa.

He's dead.

This man's dead.

Hit the dirt!
Hit the dirt!

Hit the dirt!

Mr. Hale, hit the dirt!

Thank you.

The man at the top,
his name is Rafeeq.

His soldiers are fanatics.

Ready, willing to die
for their cause,

even commit suicide
on command.

Especially
on television.

Last month, two airliners
exploded over Israel.

There were no ransom demands,
no hostages.

Acts of pure vengeance.

So how did these bombs
get smuggled aboard?

Plastique.

Implanted by surgeons
into the flesh

of Rafeeq's agents.

Police shot this killer.

The doctors
found the explosives.

Well, what's this
got to do with--

This report, sir. Confirmed.

In...seven hours from now,

Rafeeq will receive
two atom bombs,

and he will use them tomorrow.

Bull.

Where would those crackpots
get two atom bombs, eh?

They're not something
you buy at a drugstore,

like golf balls, you know?

Jack,

could your information be...

well, not wrong, of course,
but...

just a little mistaken?

No, sir.

That report
was taped

on a piece of crystal
the size of a dime

hidden in a pair
of eyeglasses,

recorded by our agent
in Hagreb today

as she was...
as she was killed by a bomb.

Sally Blake...

Was a spy?

No question.
Everybody's a spy.

Maybe even you.

Then why trust me?

Television.

You reach millions.

You are offended?

Because you use me?
We use each other.

I like frankness.

You met secretly twice
with King Awad. True?

You find this strange?

No,
a contradiction.

We plan to purify Islam.

Surely not together?

Why not?

King Awad uses the
word of God, and you,
sir, use--

Yes?

Terrorism.

To you, what is..."terrorism?"

Innocent victims,

political
murders.

Like the Belgians used
in the Congo.

Like the French in Algeria.

The Japanese
in Manchuria.

Like the British
against the Americans.

Like the Irish
against the British.

Like Mussolini
against Ethiopia.

Like Hitler used
against the Jews.

Like the Jews
used against us.

Like the Americans used a bomb
in Hiroshima.

You mean terrorism like that?

Two atom bombs.

Each strapped in a suitcase.

Each an easily made,
functional bomb,

and each is a
10-kiloton weapon.

With a destructive force,
Mr. President,

greater than
the Hiroshima bomb.

Primary targets,

Tel Aviv...
and Jerusalem.

Do the Israelis know?

Doubtful,
because if they did--

Atomic war.

Mr. President,
just press the button

on that little
black box.

Nothing personal.

And in 30 minutes,
whammo.

No more Commies,
no more Arabs,

no more oil crisis.

No more anything.

Get King Awad.

He'll crack down on
that raving lunatic.

What are you doing?

He bought the bombs.

He who?
Not King Awad?

Yes, sir.

And he's
giving them to--

Yes, ma'am.

Why?

Voices in the desert
told him to.

Crackers.

Predetermined.

Unless I stop it,
the rocket destroys the plane.

If I touch this, no explosion.

If I don't...

Death to the enemy!
Death!

Tomorrow, the Jews!

And the day after that--

New York?

If we support
Israel.

With the election,
we have to.

They'd actually
bomb New York?

Love to.

But that's
an act of war!

Mr. President,
push the button.

Yeah. Okay.

Okay, money talks,
right?

Right.
Right.

We'll freeze every dollar
they've got--

Too late.
Too late, sir.

12 billion,
700 million--

Transferred.

Switzerland,
Liechtenstein.

Not so crazy.

Well, I'll go on television,

and I'll
tell the world.

Can't you hear Mallory?

"Dirty tricks.
Anything to get re-elected."

And if Mallory
doesn't say it,

the press will.

But if the people
know the truth--

We're all out of a job.

Attack now,
Mr. President.

Hit them first.

Good guys
never shoot first.

Why not?

I will not go down in history

as the president
who started World War III.

Which brings us
to your final option, sir.

Tell it
like it is, baby.

In private, please,
Mr. President.

See he gets back
safely.

I didn't know you cared.

About you?

About this...
I care much.

191. S-191. Home base.

Home base. S-191.

Home base.
S-191. S-191.

Receiving, over.

Operation Suitcase,
result...negative.

And the Koran
quotes them.

King Awad quotes them.

Moses, Abraham,
Solomon, Jesus.

He must respect Jews.

Dead ones, yes.

Uh, sir?

Yes?

Negative, huh?

Casualties?

All right,
notify next of--

He said what?

Suicide.

Stand by.

Rafeeq?

No.

Not King Awad?

Not yet, sir.

Boy, that would
be something,

if he would die
before--

Is that your
instruction, sir?

Why should he
kill himself?

Oh, well,
religious fanatics

are unstable people.
They're unpredictable.

Must he die?

Sure would be convenient.

He certainly
won't abdicate.

Well, Jackie.

Yes, sir?

Uncork your touchdown
play and score.

Mr. President?

Blast him
out of the ballpark.

I'm not too familiar
with football, sir.

Score, Jackie, score.

What you're
really saying is--

Right. Go ahead.

Go where?

Damn it, man, do it.

Do what, sir?

You want me
to spell it out?

Yes, sir, I do.

I have seen the CIA
take the rap

for the last
seven presidents,

but no more,

unless you give me
a direct order.

You want me to say...

"kill him"?

That is one of
your options, sir.

Why, even if I thought
such a terrible thing,

which I never did,

do you realize
I could be impeached?

Politics don't
mean anything to me

unless they affect the CIA
and the United States.

In that order, Jackie?

They're interchangeable,
Mr. President.

Those eyeglasses...

they wouldn't be
a tape recorder,

like the ones Sally Blake--

That king,

the one who wanted to waste
Thomas Becket...

King Henry II.

Right.

He didn't say,
"Pop him, burn him."

He said what?

"Who will rid me
of this man?"

Get the drift, Jackie?

No, sir.

All I've heard is
"rid me of,"

"pop him, burn him,"
and "score a touchdown,"

just as over the years
in this office, I've heard

"Terminate
with extreme prejudice."

I've heard "croak him,"
and "chill him,"

and "pop him," "burn him,"
"fire him,"

"grease him."

And you still
don't understand?

No, sir.

Well, how's this?

K-I-double-L him,
by God.

By God, sir?

By executive action.

Immediately.

Thank you, sir.

Was this session taped?

Sir?

What was said here,
was it taped as usual?

Of course.

Burn it.

Your own tape?

Burn it.

Watergate, remember?

You think I want a black
Ford in my future?

Well, how's this?

K-I-double-L him,
by God.

By God, sir?

By executive action.

[RADIO ANNOUNCER SPEAKING
IN ARABIC]

Why's tomorrow so
bloody important to Awad?

Beats me.

Kings and priests,
they talk in riddles.

Why is an American
fighting here,

in that uniform?

Why'd Americans fight
over there, in Vietnam?

Ha. Beats me.

What did he say?

King Awad...

he's dead.

What are you doing?

Going to Awad's camp.

You might not
be welcome.

Television
not welcome? Ha.

Where?

Beats me.

Take the wheel.

I don't understand.

He had such hopes
for tomorrow.

How did it happen?

Suicide.

Frothing at the mouth.

Traces of poison.

That doesn't
prove suicide.

This does.

AWAD: I have tried to live

by the teachings
of the Prophet.

I heard voices, angry voices.

"Let fire rain from the sky.

"Let blood run
in the streets.

Death to the enemy."

The voices made me unclean.

My own blood,
shed by my own hand.

Only that
can make me clean again.

No, not suicide!

Not him,
not this saint.

Murder.

I say it to you,
your television, the world.

Murder! The CIA did it.

Ah, blame the CIA.

Same old story.

Old, but true.

How was it done?

How could they
get to him?

I don't know.

Thank you.

Not suicide,
murder!

The suitcases.

Not here.

Where are they?

Safe.

You said tonight.

You promised.

King Awad promised me
a million dollars.

Dead man's promise.

Well...

Wait.

No cash,
no business.

You'll get your money.

That's when you'll get
the merchandise.

Get off!

HALE: By morning,

a spontaneous
mass demonstration

was staged,

vilifying America
and President Lockwood.

Rafeeq's
Revolutionary Council...

Sir?

will control this country
by nightfall.

We lucked out.

Videotape, how
much time is left?

Riot footage, 11 seconds left.

And the live switch
to the airport remote

in three...two...one...
switch.

We're on it.

HALE:
So ended an
explosive 30 hours

that began
with the violent death

of Sally Blake.

She was going home now.

She wasn't the only one.

American newspapers
were ordered to leave.

Television
was invited to stay.

We left in support
of our fellow reporters.

Was today's outrage
riot or revolution?

Was it political
or religious?

Was King Awad's death
a suicide

or assassination?

You all right?

Yes, fine.

Are you accusing anyone
of his murder?

I never said
it was murder.

Certainly not.

Do you question
suicide?

Yes.

No comment.

Are you accusing anyone
of his murder?

What are you
trying to prove?

Everybody else
says suicide.

I just can't accept it.

Well, that
makes it murder.

That makes it even better.

Only if you're right.

If you're wrong,
that could be slander,

it could be libel,

even worse, a drop
in the Nielsen ratings.

Goodbye, number one.
Goodbye, period.

All fixed.

Pat, do me a favor,
please.

Drop the crusade.

Go away. Go fishing,
go hunting. Make love.

Do anything, but
drop the lost causes, huh?

I hate fishing.
Love love.

Welcome back, honey.

Hi.

Expensive?

She works for us.

She's a sort
of reporter.

What could be news
in a call house?

Loose women loosen
men's tongues.

WHISPERING:
Who's behind it?

Who tipped you?

A John.
Private eye, ex-FBI.

Make us a drink.

Get me the phone company.
I'll take it here.

Big guy.

Phone company emblem
on his back.

Not sent by you?

Are you sure?

Don't answer it!

Hello?

The FBI says
it was rigged to explode

three to four seconds
after the phone was answered.

We were lucky.

It seems to be open season
on reporters.

Why was Sally Blake killed?
What secret did she know?

Was her information connected
with the suicide of King Awad?

As a direct descendant
of Mohammed,

by killing himself,

he'd be killing
the son of the Prophet.

Suicide? Hardly.

Murder?

We asked U.S. Intelligence.

Unavailable.

Army, Navy,
and Air Force Intelligence--

unavailable.

Our spy factories,
all unavailable.

President Lockwood was busy
with domestic matters--

unavailable.

Hacker,
Chief of White House Staff,

was deeply involved
in affairs of state.

Unavailable.

Madam Vice President

was dealing
with national issues.

Unavailable.

The Reverend Billy Bob Harper
was available.

God moves in
mysterious ways.

Scotland Yard's expert
on voiceprints.

Our tests prove

that the voice
on the tape

is King Awad's.

Egyptian authority
on languages.

King Awad spoke
his dying words.

No question.

The experts all agree--
suicide, despite my doubt.

Without a motive,
there is no case for murder.

Who would benefit most
by Awad's sudden death?

Honest John Lockwood.
He ordered a wet operation.

Murder.

Is that a quote?

You bet.

Any proof?

Would you use it
against Lockwood?

Even if it lost him
the election?

Meaning
I'm biased?

Against me, hell, yes.

Well, facts never were
your strong suit.

Facts.

Sometimes they don't add up
to the truth.

All right, what is the truth
of the suicide tape?

AWAD: I have tried
to live my--

Oh, I heard that before.

Not this one.

AWAD: I heard voices.

We put this together
with our computer

using his old
radio speeches.

They're both lies.

A fake suicide
to cover up murder.

You said "proof."

Coming up.

Based on what?

Based on a phone call.

From him.

He wants to sell
two suitcases.

One million dollars...

Each.

Expensive luggage.

Cost Sally Blake
her life.

News was her cover.

She worked for him,

the CIA's toughest
trouble-shooter

in the Mideast.

What's he selling

that's worth
$2 million?

Ask the Agency.

They wanted
those suitcases

bad enough
to kill him.

Lockwood lies!
Lockwood lies!

Lockwood lies!

The Jews own television!

All right, break it up!

Oh, my goodness...

The Jews own
television!

Patrick Hale!

Patrick Hale!

CIA stooge!

Swan dive, baby.

WOMAN REPORTER:
A student spokesman

said the human bomb
was a protest

against the CIA, Wall Street,
Harvard, and Yale,

against
President Lockwood,

TV reporter
Patrick Hale,

all Christians, Jews,

and a protest

against pantyhose,
chewing gum,

alcohol,
and disco dancing.

Urgent.

Later.

Desert film,
16 millimeter,

shot three days ago,
guy in a Cadillac.

Pat, what is this?

Mallory just
put us on notice.

If you don't
use his interview,

he's going to sue us
for bias,

prejudice,
and equal time.

Right.

Run it.

Looks like
the negative's been damaged.

Sure it didn't pass
through an X

Run it again.

HALE: Homer Hubbard, please.

Sorry, sir.

No one by that name
works for the Agency.

Give him a message.

I don't see how.

Tell him I know

where he can buy
two aluminum suitcases.

Just a moment.

Two million dollars.

How shall
I find him?

Try dialing his number.

Of course the president
will see you.

When

As soon as possible.

Today?

Positively, unless
it's tomorrow.

Well, that's
too late.

He instructed me to say,
quote, "Pat is my friend.

Give him anything he wants."

Ten minutes.

Anything except that.

Five minutes. Now.

No can do.

My God.

Mallory said that?

Is it true?

Of course not.

Then I can go
on the air

and say that
you deny it?

Of course not.

To deny it
would be to admit

there's something
to deny.

Could the CIA have done it
without Lockwood's knowledge?

You'll have
to ask him.

When?

As soon as possible.

Police found one
of the Arab's hands,

couple of fingers
intact.

FBI ran the prints
through a computer.

Nothing so far.

Last night,
I saw Mallory.

We know.

He said that
-- We know.

Well, what don't you know?

Did Mallory
buy the suitcases?

What's in them?

Who's got them?

Ma'am, this is
the elusive Mr. Hubbard.

Yes, sir.

I tried to see
the president.

Mm.

Got stopped
by his "can do" man.

Mm-hmm.

All I got
was double-talk.

He denied everything.

It's called "plausible
deniability."

If you're wired,
it'll be erased.

Plausible deniability,
which means?

Whenever a president
does something sticky,

he can say
he didn't do it

and plausibly deny it.

Nice term.

Eisenhower used it.

Kennedy, Johnson,
Nixon, Ford,

and Carter used it.

Who takes the rap?

Whoever did

whatever the president
said he didn't do,

but did.

Are you saying
President Lockwood did?

Did what?

What he didn't do.

Do you have any idea
how many people hate the CIA?

You know
how many people

have tried
to destroy us?

Congressmen have tried,
senators.

Even some of our own agents
have tried.

Your rat's just died.

The autopsy will show
it died of a heart attack.

That's a hell of a pen.

Do you really think
it's important

who killed King Awad?

Well, don't you?

No.

I do.

And you're ready to go
on national television

and blame the CIA?

Can you keep a secret, sir?

I doubt it.

Well, in that case,
Mr. Hale...

"Croak him,"

"waste him,"
"grease him."

And you still
don't understand?

No, sir.

Well, how's this?

K-I-double-L him,
by God.

By God, sir?

By executive action.

Fire him! Shoot him!

Charge the CIA with treason.

Too late.

Deny it.

Pat, boy!

Mr. President.

Excuse me.

RECEPTIONIST:
President's office.

You're angry.

Disappointed.

Drink?

Coffee?

Carrot juice?

Hemlock?

A few answers, Mr. President,
spiked with the truth.

Well, I don't know
where to begin.

How about
"K"

Well, nothing is
what it seems to be.

Like what
you didn't do,

but did.

But never intended to.

Plausible deniability.

Justifiable homicide.

And that's it,
all of it.

Everything?

Except
for some things.

What things?

Things I can't
talk about.

Why?

Executive
privilege.

To withhold
information?

Even from Congress,
from the courts.

Mr. President,
according to the law,

we're supposed
to be equal.

We are,

only some of us

are more equal
than others.

George Orwell.

If I go on the air
with that--

You can't.

You're out
and Mallory's in.

For two reasons--
one, you're my friend.

That wouldn't
stop me.

Two, this talk
is restricted,

classified.

Who classified it?

I did.
When?

Just now.

That, my friend,

is executive
privilege.

Good morning,
ladies and gentlemen.

The president will be here
in a moment.

I didn't have anything
to do with this.

Patrick?

Joyce.

Hi, Richard,
how's the wife?

Just fine.

It's a self-prepared
statement...

Tape's rolling.

We have speed.

Good morning,
ladies and gentlemen.

If you don't mind,
I've brought along a friend.

Scruffy.

Scruffy, meet the press.

Man's best friend.

By tomorrow, he may be
the only friend I've got.

Did you ever realize

that "dog" spelled backwards
is "God"?

All right, folks, fire away.

This is the latest,
most popular

automatic weapon.

Fires 800 bullets
a minute.

Weight, four pounds.

Effective range,
270 yards.

Skylight scope
for night work.

Makes killing a pleasure.

5,000 rifles.

The two suitcases,

they're still
available.

Now?

What would I do
with atom bombs now?

The same as before.
Drop them.

For each bomb we drop,
they will drop 50.

The same was true
before.

Before, when King Awad ruled,
we had nothing.

Now we rule.
Now the oil belongs to us.

Now comes law and order.

Now what happens

to the homeless
Palestinians?

We'll sell them oil,
of course.

And the Israelis?

They'll have to pay more,
of course.

Of course.

Satellite cleared.

World hookup
confirmed.

Gallup and Harris
will conduct

new election polls
tonight,

and three
commercial breaks

at $300,000
for every spot.

Hee hee!

Some presidents come into
office because they're
ruthless.

All become ruthless
before they leave.

I want the people
to know the truth--

the whole truth.

It's the American way.

I take full responsibility
for the...

For King Ibn Awad's
removal from office.

I can't do anything
about that.

It's the dog
that worries me.

If the truth
turns you against me,

the blame falls
not on us,

but on the facts.

Fact...

Lockwood swore
to protect and defend

the United States
and its constitution.

Fact. King Awad
made an unholy alliance

with an international gang
of terrorists.

Fact...

King Awad paid
for two atom bombs,

concealed in two suitcases.

I saw them.

I can prove
they were radioactive.

Fact. Those bombs
were to be used

by this terrorist
to destroy Jerusalem.

His secondary target
was to be New York City,

or--

No bombs, no proof.

No question.

Get the bombs!

How?

However!

Was the death of King Awad
justifiable?

The maniac
who shot Lincoln,

the hired killers

of Dr. Martin
Luther King,

the Kennedys,
Lumumba,

those who burned
Joan of Arc,

poisoned Socrates,
crucified Christ,

all assassins cry,
"Justifiable homicide."

If you'd
been president,

how would you have
handled King Awad?

Killed him.

Then you'd call it
justifiable?

I'd call it necessary.

Murder is never justified.

No. The end does not
justify the means.

To prevent a plague
by killing the germ

is not murder.

It's mercy.

The U.S. of A.
may not always be right,

but God knows we're
never wrong.

Nobody asked Congress.

Why?

Public opinion.

With gas more than
three bucks a gallon,

the prez did right.

Wrong.

Right.

King who?

Given the facts, sir--

Facts?

What facts?

What suitcases

What nonsense!

Where's the proof?

There's only one fact.

The president is guilty

of premeditated,
cold-blooded murder.

CROWD:
Mallory! Mallory! Mallory!

Mallory! Mallory! Mallory!

Mallory! Mallory!
Mallory! Mallory!

Mallory!

Ladies and gentlemen,

the greatest outlaw
of the century!

Thank you.

In the Gallup poll...

Well?

We dropped 17 points.

They've been wrong before.

The Times
picks Mallory to win.

How close?

Landslide.

I thought that
if I faced the people--

Just another television show.

Seen by
a hundred million people.

They cried.

Soap opera.

70,000 telegrams are raves.

Most of them sent by you.

The people need us.

Will they vote for us?

Why not?

He told the truth,
the whole truth.

Words.

The president's
word--

Is suspect. Right?

These days...yes, sir.

You heard the lady.

We need proof,
two million dollars' worth.

Urgent. Overseas.
Person-to-person.

What changed
your mind?

Conditions.

Are the, uh,
suitcases here?

Always.

Unless they are not.

American guns?

Yes, my dear, American.

Also Russian, French,
Israeli, Czech...

Why can't people like us
buy them directly?

Americans
don't like you.

Not diplomatic.

The Russians
don't trust you...

yet.

So they sell to me,

knowing that I sell
to anybody.

Well, that makes the big guys
good guys.

And it makes me
fairly well-to-do.

Pardon.

Washington.

Who is calling?

Who you expected.

Hello?

Yes?

Yes, Mr. Unger. Are you alone?

Please answer yes or no.

No.

Have you sold the suitcases?

We're ready to buy.

Two million dollars, right?

Not now.

Two million, 100,000?

Two million two?

Would you stand by
just a moment, please?

How high do we go?

Brand-new bullet.
Explodes on impact.

Yes.

Two-and-a-half million
dollars, Mr. Unger.

Deal.

Now, certified check?

Dollars?

Swiss francs.

Our man
is on the way.

Since we will never
use the bombs,

the price is too high.
We're prepared--

Never buy anything
you cannot use.

You drive
a hard bargain.

In my business,
no bargain, no credit,

and in your case...

no sale.

Carlos, our charming friends
are leaving.

America.

Texas?

Sounds like war.
Shooting, yelling.

Texas.

Hello?

Hey there, partner.

Going to do me
some fancy traveling.

Going to get me
some fancy luggage.

You remember
them $2 million suitcases?

What's that?

Shut that damn door.

What?

Did you say three million?

Hey, hey, boy, that's cheap.
We're in business.

Look for John Brown.

John Brown.
He's leaving now.

The suitcases are the key.

Lockwood needs the bombs
to prove justifiable homicide.

Rafeeq needs them
to prove there were no bombs,

and Mallory needs them
to win the election...

and we need them
for an exclusive story.

Book me on the first plane
to Paris,

and have that money
waiting for me when
I get there.

You expect us
to pay $2 million?

Maybe more.

That's checkbook journalism!

What kind of journalism was it

when television paid
half a million dollars

for an exclusive
on the Bay of Pigs?

A million dollars to Nixon
to apologize coast to coast?

CBS paid Haldeman,
Eisenhower, and Johnson.

NBC paid John Dean
and Robert Kennedy's assassin.

ABC paid Lieutenant Calley,

and for breakfast,
served up the My Lai massacre.

And what about the killer
I put on television?

From death row
to the electric chair,

fried meat on prime time.

You paid $100,000 for that.

Paid it to the killer!

Do you call that journalism?

We're in show business, baby.

* Make them laugh
Make them cry *

* Make them buy, by and by

Get that guy on camera.

What?

The soldier
with the bleeding stumps.

You rolling?
Hey, Sarge, you're on TV!

How does it feel
losing your legs?

You call that news?

We peddle disaster.
Violence, it's commercial!

Blood and tears
and football and cheers.

Performers, superstars.
Get them on, get them off.

Next, next,
fast, fast!

We're in
the entertainment business,

and there's nothing wrong
with that...

if you call it that.

Now, folks,
for my next act,

I'm going to try to save
the president's neck.

You bum!

You're the one
that exposed him!

Right!

And that's not wrong.
That's my job.

And if he told the truth,
I'll get the facts
to prove it,

and that's my job too!

Well, I happen
to be for Mallory.

Frankly, my dear,
I don't give a damn.

Monsieur John Brown...

Mr. John Brown?

Tonight. 6:00.
Not sooner, not later.

Bring cash. Come alone.

Eight.

All the same.

All empty.

No bombs.

Not here.

No suitcases
here, either.

Mr. Unger?

Not here.

Who are you?

Shipping.

Freight.

Then you know
where everything is.

Name's Brown.

Supposed to pick up
two suitcases.

I got the cash
right here.

Anyone here?

Mr. Unger?

Turn around.

Walk.

Open it.

Go in.

Don't touch anything!

Sit down.

Oh, Jesus.

Hardly.

How did he get it?

Same way.
Ice pick.

Not my style.

What is your style?

King Awad's suicide?

Poisoned cigars?
Darts

Or like the rat in the cage?

Awad's camp's a fortress,
but you got in and out.

How?

You know I'm not wired.

What is the style
of the CIA?

Is this where I get it?

You brought the king
a birthday gift,

a camera, at the airport,
the day he died.

I bought
that camera myself.

It wasn't the one he got.

He took a picture of you.

Tiny needle...
tiny puncture.

Hardly felt.

Seven hours later,

dead.

Who switched the cameras?

Your Majesty,
just a moment.

Your birthday gift.

You remembered.

Mike works for you?

Details.

But that means Awad was killed
before Lockwood
gave the order.

Before!

Details.

All you people
get bogged down in details.

All you people?
What people?

You're talking about me.

You've made me
an accessory to murder!

That's not serious.
You're an amateur.

That's serious.

I don't believe this.
You'd say anything
for the CIA.

Anything.

Even the truth.

Why?

Why hide a cheap Bible?

You, wait.

I get something,
we go to the railroad.

You, call the police.

You, anything moves,
kill it.

Au bureau.

La lumière.

Save him.
Save the bastard.

No question.
Crude oil going higher.

$22 a barrel?

Correct.

Why punish
the people of Europe?

You're all the same.

Will oil prices
ever go down?

Will President Lockwood
ever resign?

HALE: The price of gas went up
50 cents a gallon,

and not enough to go around.

Angry drivers locked
attendants in a toilet.

Meanwhile, other drivers
filled their tanks.

Blame the president.

Blame the oil companies.

Today, Wall Street went wild.

More than three billion
dollars changed hands.

Do you know how much
a billion dollars is?

You'd have to spend

more than
two and a half million dollars

every day for one year.

Oil up $22 a barrel.

President Lockwood
down 26 points.

Gold up.
Lockwood down.

Food prices up.
Lockwood down.

The dollar down.
Lockwood way down.

A sad day for America.

We're a nation tired
of being without--

without jobs,
without pride,

without hope,
without leadership.

We've had enough,
Mr. President.

Your own party's
against you.

The whole world's
against you.

Resign, Mr. President.

Quit.

Quit?

We've just begun
to fight, right?

Damn right.

They've hit us below the belt.

They've whomped us
behind the belt.

They've belted us
with the belt.

So...rally our friends.

Convert our enemies.

Damn the torpedoes.
Full speed ahead.

You know what I want.

Do you?

Ma'am?

Do you?
Know what he wants?

No, ma'am.

We want a list of enemies.

The CIA never meddles
in domestic affairs.

Of course.

Or politics.

Of course.
Now, let's cut the crap.

We want a hit list.
Congressmen, senators,
cabinet,

big business, big labor,
big lobbies,

yesterday's pals,

the cowards
trying to give us the shaft.

Am I talking too fast
for those hidden microphones

getting all this down on tape,

because here it comes, baby,
loud and clear.

We want pictures, witnesses,
hard evidence.

Kickbacks, bribery,

usury, adultery, lechery,
bigotry, larceny.

Every dirty deal
they ever made,

and if you can't or won't
get the facts, he will.

Can do.

They want
a dirty alley fight?

They've got it.

]

Remember,
you've got to be seen.

If it doesn't
happen on television,

it means nothing.

Twenty-one shots,

and by golly,
they missed me every time.

The Alamo.

Davy Crockett fought here.
Jim Bowie fought here.

John Wayne
fought here...

and here's where I fight back.

Mr. Mallory says
I can't beat the odds.

"Quit," he says.

No!

But the heroes who defended
the Alamo,

the odds were
against them too.

4,000 enemy troops
against 150 Texans.

Did they quit?

No!

Did a Texan ever quit?

Hell, no!

Hell, no!

We're going to win this
election because
our side is right,

because we're not afraid
to fight,

because we will always
remember the Alamo.

Remember Ibn Awad.

Remember Ibn Awad!

Blame the president!

Down with Lockwood!

Blame the president!

Death to Lockwood!

Miss!

Miss, pull it over!
Pull over!

At the Alamo,
it was darkness at noon.

Here again, the moment
that shocked the nation...

The president
had a narrow escape,

now safe.

This FBI agent...

was killed by an ice pick.

The terrorist, a young woman,
escaped.

Terrorism in the streets.
Terrorism in the sky.

Terrorism by kids, by gangs,
by governments.

When the rats take over,

call the exterminator...
and blast off.

We have the men and the means
to get the job done.

Turn us loose, Mr. President,

and we'll blow them all
to hell and gone.

This was a special report
by Patrick Hale.

You're not going
to believe this.

2,000 phone calls,
local.

Coast to coast
clocked 40,000.

40,000!

Our biggest ratings
ever.

I mean, we're the hottest
show on television.

This is bigger than
the Kennedy act in Dallas.

It's for God's sake bigger
than the Super Bowl,

and it's going to be
bigger tomorrow.

Only if the human bomb
tries it again.

Well, let's pray
for a double-header.

They're gonna mingle
with the crowd, sir.

If there's any trouble
this time--

What crowd?
There are no people.

I'm going to be talking
to nobody.

With coverage
by all the networks,

cable, satellite television,

more than one billion people
will see this
event by tonight.

Here in Times Square,
it's like New Year's Eve,

but these people are
not waiting to blow out the
new year. No.

They're waiting to see
somebody blow himself
to pieces.

They all want to see
themselves on television,

actors in a real-life
melodrama.

Except, for them...

it isn't real.

It's a television
special.

Fun and games,
a gory spectacle--

the Circus Maximus.

But today,
there are no Arab students...

no violence.

The crowd is disappointed.

Back to work.

WOMAN: Death to America!

Remember Ibn Awad!

Here they come.

Death to the enemy!

The carnival's
open for business.

Death to America!

Kill the Jews!

Kill the Arabs!

Get the fuckers!

Justice!

Justice!

Justice!

Justice!

Get the prick!

Damn it, men!
We're on the wrong beach!

This morning,
President Lockwood appealed

for an end
to human sacrifice.

Violence breeds
more violence.

The place for justice
is the United Nations,

not the battlefield.

This afternoon,

we finally reached Rafeeq
by satellite.

Piety
from the mouth of an assassin

is blasphemy.

You will have my answer
tonight.

10:00,

in the city of infidels--
in Washington.

Well, this is Washington,
and it's 10:00.

The White House,
government buildings,

national monuments,

are all under armed guard.

Only police and military
planes will cross these
skies tonight.

Only police cars
and armored vehicles here,

and no pedestrians.

It's like wartime London...

holding its breath, waiting...

Waiting for the next bomb
to hit.

Did you hear that?

A police helicopter
was stolen.

It looks like...

It's a woman.

There's three!

Three women!

They're drifting towards...
the Capitol.

We've just heard.

Similar demonstrations
in Chicago, Detroit...

It seems to be happening
all over the country.

Not a word.

Hold on.

Hello, Mr. Secretary.

Who?

How's the weather in Moscow?

No comment.

Explosions

Fan-bloody-tastic!

Insane.

Put me through to Mr. Hale.

He has a call--
overseas, Hagreb.

Not now.

They said personal,
urgent, and now.

Is it a wrap?

Yeah.

Maybe for
the whole damn world.

Hmm?

Mr. Hale?
New York, urgent.

He's coming on.
They want this on tape.

Go ahead.

Rafeeq Abdallah
here.

Is this an answer to--

Listen carefully.
Do not interrupt.

Do not question.

Do not
betray this trust.

Call the president.

Of the network?

Of the United States.

RAFEEQ:
I do not trust Lockwood.

Through you, Mr. Hale,

the American people
will know the truth.

Make no appeal.
I will answer no calls.

Get me the FBI.

I have three conditions.

Fail to meet all conditions,
catastrophe.

One-- Lockwood will appear
at the United Nations.

He will resign as president.

Two-- The international
court of justice

will try Lockwood

for the murder
of Ibn Awad.

Three-- the trial
must be shown on television.

If Lockwood has not resigned
by 10:00 tomorrow morning,

two atom bombs

will destroy the city
and people of New York.

Repeat. If Lockwood
has not resigned.

Finish Lockwood
or commit humanicide.

News flash.

You want to interrupt
the commercial?

Hell, no!

Harv?

No news flash.

Hold it, Pat. Hey.

You can't
use the story.

Hey!

Ed?

Yes, sir?

Did you tape
Rafeeq's call?

Yes, sir.

Give it
to the FBI.

Harvey, sit down.

You expect me
to kill this story?

For now.

It could mean
an Emmy Award!

Ratings! Numbers!

You can't use the story.

The people have
a right to know.

You put that story on TV,

you'll have
eight million people

running crazy.

You'll kill more people
than the atom bombs.

Harv, boy.

Mr. President.

Now, we can't
go looking

for a gas leak
with a lighted match,

can we?

No, sir.

Proud to have you
aboard.

If Lockwood has not resigned
by 10:00 tomorrow morning,

two atom bombs

will destroy the city
and people of New York.

Mr. President,

the voice on that tape
could have been anybody.

Students, Cubans,
Ricans, Afros.

Sir,

the FBI voiceprint
proves that was Rafeeq.

Fake!
I can smell it.

There are no atom bombs.
There never was!

General Wombat.
We know who built those bombs.

We know who tried to buy them.
We know Rafeeq has them.

But is he crazy enough
to use them?

HUBBARD: Rafeeq Abdallah,
personality profile,

medical, physical,
psychological,

from age 4 up to tonight.

Severe case
of psychopathia martialis.

Age 11, shell shock,
refugee camp.

Now, a paranoid megalomaniac,
highly dangerous, suicidal,

chronic
masturbator--

Mr. Hubbard?

Sir?

Will he blow up New York?

According to this report,
yes, sir.

15-minute break.

Mr. President,
it's Mallory.

He's heard a rumor
about the bomb.

Well, don't say yes
and don't say no.

Don't say maybe.

Say you'll call back,
but don't.

That's how
you stay president.

Now, look.

some of us have got
family in New York,

and in America,
family comes first...

but not before God
and country,

so stay off the phone,
and don't start a panic.

Shouldn't you tell the
governor of New York?

He's supporting
Mallory.

FBI, Operation Scramble,
New York area.

Don't ask why. No.

And tell nobody else,
but nobody.

Call my sister in New York.
Tell her to--

Get out of town.
No!

Don't tell your mother!

Mr. President,

Mrs. Ford on three.

Yes?

Who's got the evacuation plan?

Tell

Then break into his office
and get it.

New York airport's
suddenly doing big business.

Secretary of State.

Now where is he?

China.

Hang up.

Well, any answers?

We've got
to do something.

Terrific.

I say attack.

We can wipe them off the map
in five hours.

General...

Pour me a shot of that stuff.

Give me that thing.

Yes, sir.

We can settle this mess
in 25 minutes.

That's the ticket,
Chief.

Pulverize them.

How do you open
this damn thing?

Who's got
the combination?

You, sir.

Oh.

That won't stop him.

It will
if he's dead.

Even if
you kill Rafeeq,

his bombs
could be preset,

rigged so nothing
can stop them.

If he does not
send a signal--

boom.

Jack

That's the way I'd do it.

That rat...

just ensured
his own life.

FBI, sir.

You--

I don't care
what it takes.

You have got
less than seven hours

to find those bombs.

About two million people
live in New York.

Another million
come in every work day.

Just give me
the bottom line.

Using everything
from buses to subways,

ships and planes...

about two million
can be evacuated.

How fast can
we be on the air?

Minutes, but--

Well, if we can save
two million people--

Yes, sir, if...

if we can squeeze
an extra 40,000 vehicles

into the New York traffic,

another 300,000 extra persons
into the airports.

It's page 18 of that report.

If you don't take
the cats, dogs,

the old, the blind,

if you abandon
all the hospitals,

and the people that are
in them don't panic,

and if the police don't panic,

then maybe you might save
two million people.

In how long?

Four days.

Four days?

Now, I want some answers,
and I want them now!

To begin with, didn't anybody
check this report?

Eight years ago, sir.

Worthless then.

Well, why wasn't something
done about it?

Maybe there is no defense
against nuclear attack.

I still say
he's bluffing!

What if he's not?

All right. All right.

Say it happens.

What's the worst?

Mr. President, recent
nuclear tests prove--

That is
classified information.

No, sir.

The bomb's gone public.

Newspapers, magazines,

even college kids
have built them.

Come on, I want

numbers,
facts, figures!

The first shock, blast,
and thermal dose

will kill at least
two million people.

All this glass
will become bullets.

Billions of them.

They'll slash everything
for miles.

There'll be fires,
tens of thousands.

Winds--
winds double the force,

the destructive force
of hurricanes.

All the water, all the food,
poisoned.

And within 10 days,

all the rest
of the people dead.

Radiation.

Even the ones
in the shelters.

Mr. President,

if these bombs
are allowed to go off...

Notify Rafeeq.

Well, time to go.

One of us
has got to try sanity.

Don't do it,
Mr. President.

You'll hate it.

Mr. President, you
can't resign.

Me or millions?
There's not much choice.

Mr. President,
if you resign,

a woman, a black woman,

will be
in the White House,

and she won't
be serving dinner.

Congratulations,
Madam President.

If I'm not shot
before I'm sworn in.

That's a well-hung flagpole.

Thank God!

Call the FBI.

I'll disarm
the other bomb.

Just in the nick of time.

Yep.

Convenient.

Oh, I'd say lucky.

I thought for a while

the CIA had arranged
the suitcases...

like King Awad's
suicide.

Mr. Hale, we only try
to do what's right.

Even when it's wrong?

If it's good
for America,

it can't be wrong.

Right?

What's next?

War.

These atom bombs on our land
constitute an act of war...

undeclared war,
unprovoked war,

started by
the bloodiest terrorist

of modern history--

by Rafeeq, the Hun of Hagreb.

What war

What the hell

Frank, boy.

You did it.
You finally did it.

We're not gonna
take it anymore.

You hit them.

You bet!

Hit them with
everything you got.

Hey, but
for God's sake,

don't hit
those oil wells!

What we got here
is a war.

Now, you're here
for one reason.

No matter what happens,

nothing happens

until it happens
on television.

Right, but before

you take
the oil wells,

remember,
we're taking

a three-minute
commercial break!

Right.

Now, let's kick ass!