All language subtitles for Die Hard 2 (1990) (Awafim.tv)

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False alarm. Hold it!
It's OK, I'm here. It's all right.

- Set it down nice and easy.
- At the impound. Next time, read the sign.

You don't understand. I'm here to meet
my wife's plane. Let me have this car.

Sure. Tomorrow, 8.00 to 4.00.
Pay $40, we give it back.

Don't write it up!

This is my mother-in-law's car.

She's already mad at me
cos I'm not a dentist.

- Look, I'm a cop. LAPD.
- I was in LA once. Hated it.

I can understand. I don't like it much...

That's a plastic fender up there.
Take it easy!

Cut me some slack, will you?
I was a cop in New York City.

I only moved to LA cos my wife
took a job there. What do you say?

Here we are, Washington, DC, the heart
of democracy. One hand washes the other.

Come on, man. It's Christmas.

So ask Santa Claus to give you
another car.

Merry Christmas, pal.

It's all yours, Murray.

Son of a bitch.

- Hi. Where are the telephones?
- Over there.

Thank you very much.

Leonard Adkins has a story
that grows hotter by the minute.

Security was tight today
at Escalan airport in Valverde,

where it is reported that deposed general,
Ramón Esperanza,

will be delivered for extradition
to the United States.

Two years ago,
the general led his country's army

against communist insurgents

in a campaign fought with
American money and advisers.

Esperanza's fall from power caused ripples

in his country's recent election,
and closer to home as well,

when Pentagon officials were charged
with supplying him with weapons,

despite the Congressional ban.

Evidence that Esperanza's forces violated
the neutrality of neighbouring countries

made Congress withhold funds.

Funds which Esperanza is accused of
replacing by going into cocaine smuggling.

Although Esperanza was removed
as commander in chief this year,

the agreement to extradite him
was only reached yesterday.

Washington insiders say a phone call
made it happen, a phone call from a...

All right!

If I could find a phone,
I'd call you, whoever you are.

Excuse me. Thank you.

This is Lieutenant McClane.
Somebody beep me?

- I'd like to think I'm somebody.
- Honey! Where are you? Did you land yet?

It's the nineties, remember?

Microchips, microwaves, faxes, air phones.

As far as I'm concerned,
progress peaked with frozen pizza.

Listen, we're gonna be
about half an hour late landing.

I just wanted to let you know.
The kids OK?

They're about to lose their minds from all
the sugar your parents are giving them.

Did Mom give you a hard
time about borrowing her car?

No. Not yet.

Listen, honey, when you land,
can we just rent a car,

check into a hotel,
leave the kids with your parents?

Order some room service, a bottle
of champagne? What do you say?

You're on, Lieutenant.

I'll see you in half an hour, honey.
I love you. Bye.

Isn't technology wonderful?

- My husband doesn't think so.
- I do.

I used to carry around
those awful Mace things.

Now...

I zap any bastard that screws with me.

I tried it on my little dog.

Poor thing limped for a week.

Excuse me.

You look really familiar to me.

I get that a lot. I've been on TV.

Yeah. Me too.

- Grab the tools.
- You got it.

This is Amy Nichole,
live from Escalan airport,

where deposed general, Ramón Esperanza,
has just arrived under heavy guard.

The deposed dictator's mood
seems jubilant.

He is smiling and waving to the crowd,
like a man running for political office.

..thousands of political prisoners,
including the new president.

There's no doubt he still has some
ardent supporters, both here and abroad.

Rumours abound on Capitol Hill
that there were...

- Yeah?
- Sir, we're checking our equipment.

- Any problems with the conduit line?
- I don't know anything about that.

- Would you mind if we take a look?
- Help yourself.

It don't seem right somehow,
closing down this church.

The parish is gonna keep on using it,
but it won't be the same.

Been here a lot of years,
and I've been right here with it.

Yeah, I kind of feel like
a piece of me is dying with this church.

You're right about that.

..cocaine smuggling
and bribing government officials.

He certainly doesn't show it,
but no matter how high his spirits,

they can't hide the fact that the US war
on drugs has taken its first prisoner.

This is Buckwheat. The clubhouse is open.

Here at Dulles,
the men from the Justice Department

wait to handcuff the man who symbolises

the enemy in America's fight
against cocaine.

That battle may be almost won,
but the war is still in doubt.

Samantha Coleman, WNTW,
for Night-Time News.

Roger that, Colonel. Out.

That was the Colonel.

Everyone's in position. How's the weather?

We got flurries all along the Virginia coast.

New storm front coming in
from the northeast.

- God loves the infantry.
- Amen.

Carry out your assignments.

- 15.51. Mark.
- Check.

Later.

It's cold out there, man!
I stomped my feet for five minutes.

Two cappuccinos. Make it fast.

Excuse me, officers. This may sound like
a wild-goose chase, but I think I saw...

Saw what?

Elvis. Elvis Presley.

Fucking tourists. Ought to be a law.

There's a lot of you from
the Justice Department here.

- Is there any particular reason for that?
- Just routine.

- Any comment, sir?
- Not now.

Thank you, sir.

That's Colonel Stuart over there.

Got a little problem with personnel.
Last-minute replacement.

- How's the security here?
- Like we figured... a joke.

Colonel Stuart,
could we have a few words?

You can have two: "fuck" and "you".

No pictures, you pinko bitch.

Old news.

Hey, man.

- What is it?
- You got a key for this door?

Yeah. Why?

Because I want you to open it up,
that's why.

- Is there a cop on duty around here?
- The airport police.

Go get 'em.

All right. Perfect. Good to go.

It's a restricted area. What's the matter?

- Couldn't wait for a skycap?
- We work here.

Let's see some ID.

Sure. No problem.

Jeez. Fuck!

This is a tag team?

He came in here and flashed a badge?

Yeah. He said to bring you guys back here.

Christ.

Fucker!

Freeze!

Nice guess, asshole.
I'm a cop. That was the bad guy.

Where's your ID?

On its way to Cleveland?

You did not explain anything. You just
shoved me back here into this cattle car.

- Sir, you were told we were overbooked.
- Fine. I accept that.

But why can't I get the first-class
meal my network paid for?

- Do you know who I am?
- Yes. We've seen your programme.

Your episode "Flying Junkyards" was
an objective look at air-traffic safety.

It wasn't nearly as edifying as
"Bimbos of the Sky", was it, Connie?

You think you're funny.

Fine. I've got your number.

And I've got yours. So park it, sir.

Fine.

- Stewardess.
- Mr Thornberg.

You cannot monopolise my time.

- You cannot put me near that woman.
- Excuse me?

He means he's filed
a restraining order against me.

I'm not allowed within 50 feet of him.

50 yards. So by keeping me in this
section, you are violating a court order.

I can sue you and this airline.

That woman assaulted me,
and she humiliated me in public.

What did you do?

Knocked out two of his teeth.

Would you like some champagne?

Sorry, Officer McClane. I had to check.

Here's your piece and shield back.

Thanks.

Jesus! Christ!

What the fuck are you people...
What are you doing?

This is a crime scene.
You gotta seal this area off.

That's up to the captain.

Maybe you better take me up
to the captain.

- Where's Cochrane?
- He didn't make it.

- You're late.
- We ran into trouble, Colonel.

Some cop killed Cochrane.
I barely got away, sir.

Did you accomplish your mission?

Yes, sir, but... Cochrane, sir.

Then the damage is minimal.
The penalty could be severe.

You fail me again,
and the chamber won't be empty.

Dismissed.

Who is it? Come in.

- Captain Lorenzo?
- Yeah.

- I'm John McClane...
- I know who you are.

You're the asshole
that just broke seven FAA

and five District of Columbia regulations

running around my airport
with a gun, shooting at people.

- What do you call that shit?
- Self-defence.

You think that LA badge is gonna get you
a free lunch or something around here?

No. Maybe a little professional courtesy.

In an airport on Christmas week?
You gotta be kidding.

OK, fuck courtesy.
How about being professional?

Your boys just walked away
from a crime scene.

You can't wrap this up in ten minutes.

You got to seal the area off,
dust for prints...

Don't lecture me, hotshot.

I know what I'm doing.
We're gonna dust it down.

We'll take all the pictures.
We'll sweep for fibres.

After 400 people go through there?

You'd be lucky to get a print
from one of your people.

- Just shut down that area...
- Shut the area down?

It's that simple? Just shut the area down?

I got everybody
from the Shriners' convention

to the goddamn Boy Scouts in here.

I got lost kids, lost dogs...
Not now. Later!

I got international diplomats.

I got a fuckin' reindeer flying in here
from the fuckin' petting zoo.

But John McClane,
he's got a little problem.

Let's shut down the whole fuckin' airport.

- What do you think they'll say upstairs?
- Phone and find out.

I don't need fuckin' forensics to tell me
this was some punk stealing luggage!

Luggage?
That punk pulled a Glock 7 on me.

That's a porcelain gun made in Germany.

It doesn't show up on X-ray machines

and it costs more than you make
in a month.

You'd be surprised
what I make in a month.

If it's more than $1.98...

Hey, McClane, don't start
believing your own press.

Yeah, I know all about you
and that Nakatomi thing in LA.

But just cos the TV thinks
you're hot shit, that don't make it so.

Look, you are in my little pond now,

and I am the big fish that runs it.

So you capped some lowlife. Fine.

I'll send your fuckin' captain in LA
a fuckin' commendation.

Now, get the hell out of my office

before I have you thrown out
of my goddamn airport.

Carmine, let me ask you something.

What sets off the metal detectors first?

The lead in your ass
or the shit in your brains?

Fat fuck.

- Any ID on this guy?
- That's somebody else's problem.

Okay, your car is ready.
You could just sign right here.

I need to borrow this and this.
I'll bring it right back.

Hold up!

Hold up, boys. We gotta check something.

- What are you doing?
- Pretty gruesome fuckin' job.

All the confusion in there,
forgot to get this clown's prints.

Christ.

You're supposed to do that at the morgue.

Not any more. Got a new SOP
for DOAs from the FAA.

I don't think this one's gonna make it.
Thanks a lot.

- Powell here.
- Take that Twinkie out of your mouth.

- John, how ya doing?
- Holly stood me up a day

and I'm here alone in DC with my in-laws.

The old in-laws? Man, they do love
their policemen son-in-laws.

Listen, Al, what is the fax machine
telephone number there at the station?

555 3212.

3212. Hold on a second, all right?
I wanna send you something.

Excuse me.

You and faxes? This is a first.

Holly told me I should wake up
and smell the nineties.

- This way?
- No. That way.

- It's upside down.
- It doesn't matter.

Here it comes.

- I'm sending you something now.
- Hold on a second, cowboy.

- Fingerprints?
- We've got an unidentified stiff.

I've circled the whorls
in case the transmission's fuzzy.

Run it through State and Federal,
and maybe Interpol.

- Will do. What's this about?
- Just a feeling I have.

Ouch. When you get those feelings,
insurance companies start to go bankrupt.

The fax number is...

On the top of the transmission
you just got.

On the top of the transmission
you just got.

An airport? You're not
pissing in somebody's pool?

Yeah, and I'm fresh out of chlorine.

- Thank you.
- You're welcome.

Just as this storm starts breaking,

the satellite-feed up
and drops the other shoe on us.

Look at this new front moving in.

Makes its baby brother
look like chickenshit.

I can sand down the runways
and run the ploughs between landings

but you gotta downshift them,
give me time to work.

You got it.

All right, everyone.
Let's slow down our birds

before we get a parking lot over our heads.

The line starts at the Mississippi,
and they better start taking numbers.

Can I get you another?

No, thank you. I only have to look
at his face for another 20 minutes.

This is the captain speaking. I've just
been informed by Dulles traffic control

that there's a weather front ahead of us.

We may be up here a little while longer.

- Thank you.
- On second thought...

I'm right here, partner.
Your stiff's dossier is coming through now.

- What can you tell me about him?
- He's dead.

You needed a computer to figure that out?

No, you don't follow me.

According to the Department of Defense,
he's been dead for two years.

- What?
- That's right. Sergeant Oswald Cochrane.

American adviser in Honduras.

Killed in a helicopter accident, 5-11-88.

Officer.

Read between the lines
and it looks like a lot of black-bag stuff.

I see it. All right, Al. Thanks a lot.

- Any time.
- OK.

I close in about an hour.
Maybe we can go get a drink?

Just the fax, ma'am.

Wait a second, I see somebody.
I'll call you back.

The ghost of Christmas past.

Nakatomi? LA?
You're John McClane, right?

- Who are you?
- Sam Coleman. WNTW News.

- Excuse me.
- Give me a break. I saw the stiff.

Word is, that was your handiwork.

No. I only do needlepoint.

Great. National just shut down.
Totally iced.

- They'll send us their planes.
- Happy holiday.

The worst part, Mr Trudeau, is the press.

They were here for the Esperanza story,

so they got it right on the news,
bloodstains and all.

I'd like to lock every damn reporter
out of the airport,

but they'd pull that freedom-of-speech crap
on us, then the ACLU would be all over us.

Murder on television.
Hell of a start for Christmas week.

What is it? A gang thing like last time?

Only if your gangs get
their training at Fort Bragg.

- Who the hell is this?
- I'm a police officer...

In an unauthorised area.
LA, Mr Trudeau, don't mean shit.

That's what I said about
my last cholesterol test.

So what's your problem,
Lieutenant McClane?

I'm sure Captain Lorenzo has
explained to you

the minor fracas with the minor thieves.

Maybe he can explain this.

- All systems tapped, Colonel.
- Fire it up.

H minus five minutes. Stand by.

We've got a body in the morgue
that seems to have died twice.

Assuming it's not an error,
what do we assume?

Somebody's about to fuck
with this airport.

What the hell does that mean?

I know we're dummies up here,
so give us a taste of your genius.

A hijacking, a robbery or what?

- I'm not sure...
- He's not sure.

I'm stunned. I gotta lie down.

Only professionals go to this much trouble.
Not luggage thieves or punks.

- Professional at what?
- What the fuck do you think this is?

The safety patrol? This is the résumé
of a professional mercenary.

A major drug dealer is due here.
You need a slide rule to solve this,

or another body in a bag
before you ask questions?

You're the one that gave us
that fucking body. Remember that.

Yeah, I remember that.

Lorenzo, have all your
shift commanders report in. Now.

- What?
- They're to report anything unusual,

- no matter how trivial. Got that?
- I got it.

- My God.
- What?

- The runways. Look.
- What the hell?

- They're shutting down.
- Jesus Christ.

Go to emergency lighting. Now.

- Emergency. We are in a code yellow.
- Backup systems won't come up.

- Shunt to another terminal.
- Bobby, what have you got?

Please respond. Please respond.

- The network is down.
- Should we call the power company?

We're on the same grid and we're hot.

Dulles, I'm on approach.

- Maintain position. Repeat.
- What's going on down there?

- We're on it.
- We're unable right now. Delay.

Fuji 604. Execute published
missed-approach procedure and hold.

TWA 23, unable to clear you
for approach at this time.

Climb to and maintain one zero thousand.

I've checked all systems.
It ain't happening.

- What's it look like?
- Approach control is gone.

Jesus. Instrument landing system is down.

Confirmed. ILS is dead.

Every goddamn system's dead.
And Inmac monitors are down.

Attention all controllers.
We have a code-red alert.

Every aircraft approaching our sector,
and not already in our landing pattern,

gets diverted to their alternate airport.

Everyone already on approach,
or inside our pattern,

holds at the outer markers.

Stack 'em, pack 'em and rack 'em. Move.

Not a word of this leaves this room.

There must be 15,000 people in
this airport, and we don't need panic.

We just bought ourselves
maybe two hours.

After that, planes low on fuel
won't be circling.

They'll be dropping
on the White House lawn.

McClane, this what you expected?

No.

This is just the beginning.

- FAA hot line.
- How could they know already?

They can't.

Maybe it's the boys
who pulled your plugs.

Put it on speaker.

Attention, Dulles tower. Attention.

They say blind men become very
attentive by way of compensation.

Now that you're blind and deaf,
I think I've got your attention.

I'm aware your recorders are active,
so I'll be quick.

You can play me back
to your heart's content.

How did you get on this line? Who is this?

Who I am is unimportant. What I want...

If you don't want planes to splash into
the Potomac as they run out of fuel,

what I want is very important.

A plane will be landing
at this airport in 58 minutes.

It is FM-1: Foreign Military One.

- I'm sure you are aware of the nature
- Esperanza?

of this flight, the importance of its cargo.

This plane will not be met by anyone.

It will land on a runway of my designation,

where it will remain isolated
and unapproached.

That will conclude my interest in this
aircraft and your responsibility for it.

At the same time, I want a 747 cargo
conversion fully fuelled

and placed at my disposal.

You have two minutes to advise inbound
aircraft to hold at their outer radio marker.

After that, you will be able to receive only.

Any attempt to restore your systems,
will be met by severe penalties.

He's bluffing.

- Damn it, you can't do this.
- I am doing this.

I need you to punch up a code 15.
I got an idea, and I need your help.

If Esperanza gets to a country with
no extradition treaties, we're fucked.

They're talking to us on our system.
They gotta be close.

- My men will tear this airport apart.
- Just in the nick of time.

I got a first-class unit, SWAT team and all.

We don't need
Monday morning quarterbacks.

My wife's on one of the planes they're
fucking with! So I'm on the playing field.

If you'd have moved before,
we wouldn't be deep in shit.

That's it. Security. You're outta here.

Mr Trudeau, there are FAA regulations

regarding unauthorised personnel
in the control tower!

We just have to find a way to transmit.

Run down to Radio Shack
for a transmitter.

We have one - the terminal wing
they're building.

20 airlines when it's done,
all with reservation computers

in a nice antenna arrangement.

- See Mr McClane out.
- You got no business being up here.

Everything we need
is by the annexe skywalk,

just sitting there, waiting to go on line.

Goddamn it, Trudeau,
you're dealing with pros.

You can't fuck with these people.

Sam Coleman. WNTW News.
There are a lot of rumours flying around...

No way, lady. Hell, no.

This is off limits, Coleman.

Anything you can think of,
they'll think of, too!

- Get your fucking hands off me.
- Just get 'em out of here.

- Lobby security, come in.
- Tomalson here.

This is Captain Lorenzo. We've two
unauthorised personnel in the tower.

Get your thumb out of your ass.
Get 'em out of the elevator,

or you'll get a pink slip for Christmas.

10-4. Let's go.

Goddamn!

- Anything who can think of?
- Shit. Hang on over there.

- What for?
- Just hang on!

Big drug dealer on his way to prison.
Gunfight at airport.

Every controller in the coffee shop
getting beeped, and you rocking the boat.

- Connection? Come on, just a few words.
- OK, just a few words. Fuck off.

Thanks, but I already got
that from Colonel Stuart.

Stuart. The guy that got canned
by Congress. That's who he was.

Who he who? What?

It's OK, I've done this before.

- Hey.
- Hi.

- Where's the other one?
- Claustrophobic, I guess.

It's a VHF system,
but the planes are so close, it's OK.

I can rig our frequency in 30 minutes,
and wire in a crossover.

- You wouldn't know the difference.
- Get what you need. Borrow. Steal. Kill.

I want my SWAT team
to go with him as cover.

Whatever we can think of,
they can think of, too.

Man, I can't fucking believe this.

Another basement. Another elevator.

How can the same shit happen
to the same guy twice?

What the fuck?

Who are you?

I'm Marvin.

I thought you was trying
to steal my records.

I'm just the janitor.

This is Dulles approach to all aircraft
holding at Potomac vortex.

We are experiencing
some technical problems.

Weather conditions,
which have deteriorated,

have now been complicated
by an unforeseen human factor.

This has affected all of our electronic
equipment and their redundant backups.

As a result, our nav
and approach systems are down.

We expect to lose voice in another minute.

Continue holding at the outer marker as
directed, and wait for further instructions.

As soon as we're back on line,
we'll expedite your landings

on a fuel-emergency basis.

Good luck.

God bless.

Change the boards.

- The skywalk annexe.
- No! The annexe skywalk.

It's the last thing I heard
before they kicked me out.

Let me see here.

This must be it right there. See?

That's the raised platform and there's
the new terminal. There's your skywalk.

Goddamn bottleneck.
Nice place for an ambush.

What's the fastest way
you can get me out to that spot?

This kind of thing wasn't
in my job description.

- Mr Barnes, we'll watch your back.
- Yeah? Who watches yours?

Main ventilation duct.

Ventilation duct... and bingo.

Just once, I'd like
a regular, normal Christmas.

Eggnog, a fucking Christmas tree,

a little turkey.

But, no. I gotta crawl around
in this motherfuckin' tin can.

We're in the annexe skywalk.
I can see the array.

I'll give you a call for a protocol test
when it's hot. That's all for now.

Sergeant, we need more equipment.
I'd like to send one of your guys for it.

- What the hell's going on?
- Put that back on!

- Hey, asshole, what do I look like to you?
- A sitting duck.

Shit!

Damn it. I hate it when I'm right.

Stay down!

Fuck.

Fucking son of a bitch.

Shit.

I'm gonna kick your fuckin' ass.

- Jeez.
- You all right?

Yeah. But the antenna array,
I gotta get to it and set it up.

Get down!

Goddamn.

Bait.

Jerk us off.

Make Lorenzo sacrifice his best men.

Make you waste your time.

Time we don't have.

I think you're closer than 50 yards.

So's that airplane. Practically.

Yeah. There's quite a few of them.
It looks like a regular traffic jam.

There's nothing regular about it.

See? You're intrigued.

That's my gift, Mrs McClane.
I notice things.

Things other people wouldn't see.
That's how I make people curious.

Don't you mean nauseous?

The people have a right to know
everything about everybody.

You got in the way of that.

Listen, buster.
You endangered my children.

You didn't do it
for anything as noble as "the people".

The only time you see the people

is when you look down to see
what you're stepping on.

Me? I'll live,
but Lorenzo's SWAT team is dead

and the antenna array is gone.

Didn't you see it?

Start looking for a new miracle.

Hold for a second. Something's going on.

I say again, annexe team, give us a sit rep.

Annexe team, come in. Do you copy?

It's got a scrambler on it.
Can you do anything with it?

No. This scramble mode
must activate on this code panel.

Even if we scan their frequency,
we can't listen in. These guys are pros.

So are you. Break the code.
I wanna hear these bastards.

This is a ten-digit control panel.
Six-digit read-out.

Hell, there could be
a million combinations.

Next time you kill one of these guys,
get him to enter the code first.

Sir, we monitored a call from their chief
engineer. We took out their SWAT team.

So they did go for the antenna array.
We're on schedule.

Losing our team wasn't part of the plan.

Attention, Dulles control tower.

Mr Trudeau, I know you're listening.

- Unfortunately, you're not obeying.
- Try me face to face.

You were warned
not to restore your systems.

You've wasted lives and precious time
on a futile and obvious target.

Now you're gonna pay the penalty.

I got five dead officers, Colonel Stuart.
Isn't that penalty enough?

McClane, keep out of this.
You've been a pain...

McClane. John McClane.

The policeman hero who saved
the Nakatomi hostages.

I read about you in People magazine.

You seemed out of
your league on Nightline.

Colonel, blow me. How much drug money
is Esperanza paying you to turn traitor?

Cardinal Richelieu said it best:
"Treason is merely a matter of dates."

This country's got to learn it can't keep
cutting the legs off of men like Esperanza.

Men who have the guts to stand up
against communist aggression.

Lesson one starts with killing policemen?
What's lesson two, the neutron bomb?

No. I think we can find something
in-between.

Watch this.

Give me a flight number.
One that's low on fuel.

Windsor 114. Transatlantic from London.
Fuel tank's dry as a martini.

Activate the ILS landing system, but
recalibrate sea level... minus 200 feet.

Jesus. They've reset
ground level, minus 200 feet.

Windsor flight 114. This is
Dulles approach. Do you copy?

Dulles approach, this is Windsor 114.
Where the devil have you been?

Windsor 114.
We've been right here all along, old buddy.

Our systems only came back on line
just now.

Windsor 114, you are cleared
for ILS approach, runway two-niner.

- Contact Dulles at the outer marker.
- Jesus Christ, he's gonna crash the plane.

Roger, approach, and about time. I've got
230 people up here flying on petrol fumes.

Roger, 114. Understand. Calibrate Dulles...

- Jesus.
- They'll fly right into the concrete.

Son of a bitch!

- Why are they listening to him?
- It's our frequency.

Damn.

- Barnes.
- This is Dulles tower.

We have radar contact...

Give me your coat.

- What are you gonna do?
- Whatever I can.

Ladies and gentlemen,
we've started our descent.

Sorry for the inconvenience,
but we'll all be on the ground shortly.

Please keep your seat belts on.

We've made arrangements for your
next flight, so you won't miss it.

In your seat, please.

We're just like British Rail, love.
We may be late, but we get you there.

Don't worry.

Good luck, McClane!

Dulles, this is Windsor 114
inside the outer marker.

Roger, 114. This is Dulles tower.

We have radar contact
and show you on ILS.

You're in the glide path and looking good.

There's somebody out there!

It's McClane. Christ.

Approach flaps.

Approach speed 140.

130.

- Altitude 1,000 feet.
- 800, guys. You're only at 800 feet.

Fire and rescue. Roll everything
onto runway two-niner.

Ref speed plus 20. 600 feet.

Looking good, Windsor. Watch it.
30-knot crosswinds and the runway is icy.

Attaboy. We've gotcha.

We've gotcha.

Pull it up!

Jesus!

We've gotcha.

God.

Motherfucker.

That concludes our object lesson
for this evening.

If the 747 we requested is ready on time

and General Esperanza's plane
arrives unmolested,

further lessons can be avoided.

Out.

We got no sign of survivors.
It's a goddamn nightmare.

Barnes! We've got to warn those planes

there's a lunatic pretending
he's the tower. Get me on the air.

- How?
- You figure it out!

Here's the manifest.

I know how you must feel.

I wanted to help those people tonight.

I was pretty goddamn useless.

We called the government for help.
They're gonna send in a Special army unit.

A counterterrorist team.

Your wife's plane...

They're still broadcasting,
even though we can't answer.

They're gonna run out of fuel
in 90 minutes.

Listen, Dick. That is your name?

Dick. If you're gonna continue to get
this close, could you switch aftershaves?

Anything else?

Stronger mouthwash might be nice.

Sam Coleman is reporting
live from the accident.

Colonel, they've done
everything we've anticipated... so far.

But still there has been no official word.

Despite the fact that only one runway
has been closed due to the tragedy,

several dozen airliners are visible,
endlessly circling the field.

Other reports say there
had been trouble in the tower,

and that may have contributed to it.

With weather conditions worsening,

the problem here and in
the sky above us will grow.

I'm Samantha Coleman
at Dulles International Airport.

- Victor.
- Yeah, what's up?

Did you pack the radio mikes
from the shoot or are they here?

I wouldn't let those assholes check 'em in!

I love you.

Give me one of the receivers.

Can you tune into the cockpit frequency?

- Yeah. Why?
- I wanna hear what's going on.

Should be right here on our band.

- Nothing.
- You said it would work. Is it working?

It is working, but all I'm getting
is some kind of airport beacon.

It's weird. It's like the tower isn't there.

Stay on it.

Let me know
when there is something there.

- Major Grant.
- Rollins, Department of Justice.

Trudeau, Chief of Air Operations.

Lorenzo, Terminal Police.
You want something, you got it.

This is it? One fucking platoon?

- One crisis, one platoon. Who are you?
- John McClane.

- You showed some balls out there.
- Yeah.

Now show some good sense.
Let the pros handle this.

Looks like the pros
are on the wrong team tonight.

- Isn't Colonel Stuart one of your men?
- Not any more.

We're here to take Colonel Stuart down.
And we will take him down.

I served with him.
I taught him everything he knows.

Maybe he's learned
a few more things since then.

Let's hustle. The command post will be
set up in the airport police station.

I wanna be tied in to the tower
in 15 minutes.

Let's do it!

Things just get better or worse?

- Lights. Big, portable lights.
- We set up the field, and then we...

Wait for those lunatics to shoot 'em out?

Where do we get the lights?
From Batman?

- What about the air phone idea?
- 18 planes are up there. Five have phones.

We got through to three.
We're trying the others.

That's 13 accidents waiting to happen.

-Are they still bucking headwinds?
-I just checked the weather.

Headwinds are slamming everybody
over the outer marker.

The planes with enough fuel
have been shunted to Atlanta,

Memphis and Nashville.

Outer marker. Damn!

The outer marker!

It's a beacon. It sends out this "beep
beep beep" so they know they're over it.

- So?
- Who says that signal has to just beep?

Right. Switch the frequency from
the tower to the one in the beacon.

Pump up the wattage.

We can talk to our planes, and those
bastards who did this will never know!

Traced the signal.
Found it in the luggage area.

They've been tapped into
your tower chatter all night.

Punks stealing luggage, Carmine?

- How you doin', Telford?
- No good.

I called Lang. They'll have
a portable decoder here in two hours.

- My wife doesn't have two hours.
- I was put on Grant's team yesterday.

The regular guy got appendicitis.

Word is, nobody's better
at this than Major Grant.

Except maybe Colonel Stuart.

I wanna hear about
the plane those bastards asked for.

Then I'll fill you in on my orders.
Pilots' briefing room - now!

- Keep working.
- Albertson. With me!

No civilians.

- What the fuck...
- What is it?

The outer marker beeper isn't beeping.
It's talking.

All aircraft in Dulles landing pattern.
This is chief engineer, Leslie Barnes.

I have been authorised to brief you in full.

At this time, this is the only
channel available to us.

Here is the situation.
Approximately two hours ago...

- Get a load of this.
- ..claiming to be from our tower

unless you hear
your flight recorder access code.

- The terrorists have got all...
- Holy shit! Get this on tape.

..control of everything except this channel.

Give us a second here, please.

Do not attempt to reply on your
own frequencies to this broadcast.

They have already caused one crash

- by impersonating our tower.
- Jesus.

Repeat. The terrorists have cut off
the two systems that allow you to land,

field lights for a visual landing
and the ILS for an instrument.

A Special US army unit is here,
preparing to take out the terrorists.

My God.

- Hey, you interested in a nice coat?
- It never looked good on me anyway.

You gotta get me up
to the pilots' briefing room.

I gotta hear what they're saying.
Which map gets me in there?

- Don't touch it.
- Find the map.

I'll find it. You'll mess up
my whole damn filing system.

Pilots' briefing room,
I think that's in the main terminal.

So would that be under P
for "pilots' briefing room"?

- Now, Marvin!
- Or maybe under M for "miscellaneous".

Request permission to reduce sentry duty
to 30-minute rotation.

My men are getting cold and antsy. Over.

This is Colonel Stuart. Have the men not
on watch assemble for a briefing. Over.

Roger, Colonel. Over and out.

What's the matter?

Gentlemen, tonight the pattern ends.

The dominoes will fall no more
and the ramparts will remain upright.

Sir, General Esperanza's plane
just came on the scope.

Attention, Dulles tower.
We will be lighting up a runway.

Do not, repeat,
do not attempt to land any planes.

Remember, we're monitoring you.

- What do we do?
- Obey.

Dulles tower to Foxtrot Michael One.

This is Foxtrot Michael One, Dulles.
We read you. Over.

Foxtrot Michael One, you are
to come in on runway 1-5.

I found it on the floor, by the coat,
next to the luggage belt.

What the hell you so excited for?

- The code's still punched into this one.
- You like it.

How about you give me 20 bucks for it?

- How about I let you live?
- The man knows how to bargain.

This is contrary to our instructions.

We are to land at runway 1-0,

where we are to be met
by representatives of your Justice...

Captain, please tell the tower
you will proceed as ordered.

Roger, Dulles. Proceeding to runway 1-5.

Foxtrot Michael One. Come in, please.

What are you gonna do now?
Are you gonna shoot me?

So who will fly the plane?

Don't worry about it. It's not your problem.

Michael One. Do you copy?

Foxtrot Michael One, come in.

Eagle Nest. This is Falcon. Mayday.

Go ahead, Falcon.

I've lost cabin pressure.
Near-zero visibility.

I must drop out of this weather and land
now, on the first accessible runway.

Repeat. I've lost cabin pressure.
Near-zero visibility.

I must drop out of the storm.

I can land, but I must land now,
on the first outgoing runway.

Repeat. I cannot circle around
to runway 1-5.

I'll make you a deal.

Show me out to those runways
and I'll get you a liner for that coat.

Repeat. I cannot circle around
to runway 1-5.

Shit!

Stand by, Falcon.

He's coming in from the ocean, sir.

A bullet damaged my instruments.

I'm not sure of my bearings and I must
make a visual landing immediately.

- Do you copy, Eagle Nest?
- Roger, Falcon.

That would be 2-5 right.

Make up your fucking mind.

We are just up to our ass
in terrorists again, John.

2-5 left.

2-5 right.

I gotta quit smoking cigarettes.

Thank you for telling me, Eagle Nest.

But if you could show it to me as well,
I would be grateful.

I see the lights.
They are directly in front of me.

Reducing airspeed. Approaching runway.

- Wish me luck.
- Roger, Falcon.

We copy. We'll have you in five minutes.

That's right, asshole.
We'll have you in five minutes.

I see your lights. ETA 90 seconds.

Come to papa, scumbag.

Shit!

Freedom.

Not yet.

You should stay in your seat until
the plane reaches the terminal.

No frequent-flier mileage for you.

- Who are you?
- A cop.

- A cop?
- Yeah, one of the good guys.

And you're a bad guy. Now I've got your
sorry ass, I'm gonna trade it for my wife.

Sit down!

- Where'd he go?
- In there.

I don't believe this.

Two months of planning, and
you can't anticipate one pendejo of a cop.

- Come on, General.
- Where is Colonel Stuart?

- General!
- I'm all right.

He said he was a policeman.
I thought you had this place secured.

- He went in the cockpit.
- He's going to hell.

I assume it's you, McClane.

You're quite a little soldier.

You can consider this a military funeral!

- How many grenades we got?
- Three each!

Use 'em!

Fuck.

Go!

You lucky fuck.

- Fire trucks, sir.
- Fall back to the church. Now!

Where's the fuckin' door?

They're getting a little nervous back there.
In fact, so am I.

We're over Washington. See if you
can get any TV to settle 'em down.

Works for me. I'll...

Writing your acceptance speech
for the video sleaze awards?

- Try Pulitzer.
- While waiting to land,

we are turning on local Washington TV.
The sound is on channel three.

Please, sir, we may land at any moment.
If you'll take your seat...

- I'm gonna be sick.
- Sir, the seat-belt light is on.

Moron.

- WZDC.
- This is Richard Thornberg.

- Put me through to Ruben.
- He's about to go live.

- I know he is. That's why I need him.
- You'll have to hold on...

Put me through, Celia,
or start typing your résumé.

Esperanza's down... but he's hurt.

He took a round in his shoulder. I got one
more of their guys. That's six they lost.

If we knew how many they had,
we could get excited,

but if they got 50 guys,
it's a little early to open the champagne.

We appreciate your effort, but we
don't need a loose cannon here.

What if they crash another plane
in retaliation for your stunt?

They can't do that now, right, Barnes?

And if I'd grabbed Esperanza,
this'd be over now.

Maybe they're more creative
than you think.

At least I'm thinking, goddamn it.

We're here to jerk off that cocksucker
until he tries to take off. Period!

You're the wrong guy
in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The story of my life.

Major. Pentagon situation room, sir.

Pentagon. I'll take it in here.
Thank you, Telford.

You men come with me.

- McClane.
- Yeah, Barnes.

You said those guys
showed up right away?

Yeah.

So that must mean they're
on the field or close.

I think I know where.
Come here, let me show you something.

These are the old plans with the
longer runways. That's 12 years ago.

Looks like they've modified the site,
moved Tra-Con phones, ILS,

all the underground stuff,
so they could handle drainage.

If I'm right, all of it would run
along the airport property

and go right past this neighbourhood.

Somebody ought to get their ass
kicked for this mess.

Unfortunately, there isn't anyone
we can blame for the weather.

Yeah? What about that porker,
Willard Scott?

I should have taken the bus. At least
they can pull over for food and gas.

- Excuse me.
- Yes?

I was just wondering. This flight originally
was supposed to be five and a half hours.

Do we have enough fuel to keep circling?

Of course. They anticipate
little problems like this.

We looked at 12 fucking houses,
and we're nowhere.

This is our last possibility.

- Over here there's an old church.
- Let's go.

Wait.

There's the church over there.

- Could be a sentry.
- He could just be out for a walk.

Then why is he going over
his own footsteps?

Come on.

All right. Just stay here
and get ready to call the marines.

- I thought they were the army.
- Who gives a fuck? Just be ready.

Shit. Not now.

Lorenzo, it's Barnes.

Where the hell are you? Where's McClane?

With me, at the community church,
to the west of the airport.

Where? Goddamn it.
You crazy idiot, why didn't...

This must be their operations base.
Shut up and get your ass here!

Code red. Sit rep.

We got positive ID on Stuart's location.
Let's move.

Our escape plane will be ready
within 30 minutes, General.

If there are no more surprises.

Gentlemen, we have a situation here.

They're over here.

Jeez, you all right? You want a medic?

What the hell you think you're doin'?
Playing John Wayne?

How'd you like to spend the night in a cell?

Shut the fuck up and do
something useful. Seal off the street.

- Hey, you can't talk to me like that.
- No, Carmine?

Sergeant, get this bureaucrat
out of Mr McClane's face - now!

With pleasure, sir.

Major, the men are in position, sir.

Close up the back, then we go in.
Fire only on my order.

Roger that, sir.

Guess I was wrong about you.
You're not such an asshole after all.

No, you were right.
I'm just your kind of asshole.

Garber, sit rep!

Army Special Forces
on three sides, closing in fast!

- Another problem, Colonel?
- No problem, General.

Gentlemen, you know what to do.

- Down!
- Get down!

General... it's time.

Come on, let's move it.

- They're pulling out... at the back.
- What?

Move it!

Albertson, your men around the back.

This equipment could land our planes.

Don't touch anything.
If it's booby-trapped...

It is.

Got one here. Looks like C-4.
The motherfucker is armed.

Clear the area. Everybody, now!

They booby-trapped the equipment.
Seal it off.

Shit!

Where the fuck is McClane?

Miller, take him.

I'll cover you.

So much for the element of chance.

Let's move out.

I had the bastard in my sights. I know I did.

Jesus Christ.

Attention, Dulles tower.

This is Colonel Stuart.
Is our plane prepared?

It is. It's in hangar 11.
It's the most remote building we've got.

We're on our way. Have a ground crew
there to confirm the condition of the plane.

Do you believe the balls
on this son of a bitch?

Colonel, you're capable
of confirming it yourself.

Don't ask us to gift-wrap
potential hostages for you.

- Major Grant, isn't it?
- If you remember me, Colonel,

then you remember
I know the drill as well as you do.

Check out your own fuckin' plane.

We move out in five minutes.
Flak jackets for everybody.

Body armour for the assault team.
Night scopes for the snipers.

We go to the hangar.

I will pull that detonator out of
Stuart's dead fuckin' hand myself.

Lorenzo,
take all your men back to the airport.

Seal off every exit in case they try to slip
past us to break out onto the ground.

You got it.

All right, here we go.

This is nuts!
Every station has people at the airport.

No one has heard a whisper of this!

None of them is me.
You want proof, try this.

Terrorists have murdered civilians

and cut off the two systems
that allow you to land.

A Special US army unit is here,
preparing to take out the terrorists.

- Jesus Christ.
- I want you to go live now.

Key me in from the files, a publicity shot.
Steal a map from weather.

We're on it. We're cutting in five minutes.

Tell the affiliates, if they want in, they got
three minutes to shout. Let's do this.

Network, here I come.

Telford, what was your chickenshit outfit
doing while we were taking Grenada?

Grenada. Five minutes of firefight,
five weeks of surfing.

- I wish I was with you guys for that.
- Yeah. Me too, kid.

- Really, sir?
- Sure.

Then we wouldn't have to do this.

Eagle Nest, this is Hatchling.

On schedule... and in position.

Roger, Hatchling. We are secure here.

You have a green light.

Jesus, officer, where'd
you come from, Pearl Harbor?

Let's clear it out, please.

Five, four, three...

This is a special bulletin
from WZDC News.

There has been a plane crash at Dulles,
where other aircraft still circle,

with no explanation
from airport or FAA officials.

And now, with an exclusive WZDC report,

here's Dick Thornberg reporting
from the skies over Washington.

I'm one of the people circling our capital

under the assumption
that whatever problem

there was below was a normal one.

But the truth is far from normal.
The truth is terrifying.

Get out of the way, lady!

This is a recording of a conversation

between Dulles tower
and a captive aircraft overhead.

- Lorenzo!
- Are you out of your fuckin' mind?

- Where's the Blue Light team?
- Stuart's rigged explosives to a remote.

Where's Grant?

His boys are gonna kill that son of a bitch.

- No, they're gonna take off with him.
- Get the fuck outta here.

When the army canned Stuart,
he put his men in that unit.

- Are you nuts? That firefight...
- Sideshow to buy him some time.

You are completely
around the fuckin' bend.

You're under arrest, motherfucker.

These are the bullets they
used out there tonight. Blanks!

Jesus Christ.

This is Chief Lorenzo.
I want every officer recalled

and in body armour and full weaponry
in the motor pool in five minutes.

It's time to kick ass.

Just like Iwo Jima.

We have learned that
the terrorists have control of the airport,

a fact that the authorities have repressed.

The terrorists promise more bloodshed
unless their demands are met.

Now that the Special army commandos
have arrived at the airport,

the likelihood of a full-scale
battle is dangerously close.

That stupid, arrogant son of a bitch.
It's all over the airport.

300 people have died

and, unfortunately,
they may not be the last.

The horrifying fact is that
no one is safe,

either in the planes above Dulles
or in the terminal below.

The threat of a higher body count at the
airport hangs over the heads of everyone,

and the holiday season of peace
and love has become a nightmare.

Listen up, all units. I want
you to converge on hangar 11, all sides.

This car, McClane. Get in!

When the city blue show up
with their backup,

they'll pick up the pieces. Move out!

- McClane, say hi to my brother Vito.
- Merry Christmas.

Hi.

Goddamn it to hell!
Move that piece of shit.

Will you move that goddamn
piece of shit out of here?

Vito, get the fuck out of the car
and get your ass in gear and help me!

Hey, Coleman!

- Hey, Coleman!
- Hi.

..but at least the truth
is not among the hostages

because I, Richard Thornberg,
just happened to be here

to put his life and talent
on the line for humanity and country.

If this should be my final broadcast...

Amen to that, Dick.

Dick? We're live, Dick.
Where are you now?

Truck lights approaching, sir.
They're here, right on schedule.

The hangar door, open it.

Clockwork.

Jeez, you give me this story,
and I'll have your baby.

Not the kind of ride I'm looking for.

Colonel, if I may say so,
you are some piece of work.

Thank you, Major.
You're not so bad yourself.

- Congratulations on your escape, sir.
- Thank you, Major.

You should save them
until we are all safe.

Sir.

My congratulations, gentlemen.
You've won a victory for our way of life,

my pride, my admiration,
and a kick-ass vacation.

Now, get on board.

- Ride too rough, cowboy?
- I don't like to fly.

- So why are you here?
- I don't like to lose.

I don't know about you, but I've seen
enough snow to last me a lifetime.

- You don't get much of that in the tropics.
- For you gentlemen, we'll import it.

Shit. They left the hangar.

Right there. Get that.

- Now what?
- Get in front.

Block their path so they can't get out.

I'm not playing chicken
with a 200-ton plane!

I'm crazy, but not that crazy.

- Dulles, this is Northeast 140.
- That's Holly's plane.

Request emergency clearance.

I know you won't answer
but you better listen.

We're down to fumes and we have to land.
In five minutes, we're coming in.

That's my wife's plane.
Take it fuckin' down!

I'm not getting in front of that plane.

How about gettin' over top of it?

This is the captain. Your attention.

We have no choice
but to attempt an emergency landing.

Fasten your seat belts
and assume crash positions,

- as instructed by your cabin attendants.
- Let's have the emergency check list.

Attention, all air traffic in Dulles area.
This is Northeast 140.

We are attempting an emergency landing.

I don't wanna die.

I'm sorry.

God!

Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

- Hang on!
- What are you doing?

You wanted a story.
Nice and easy, boys. Get me in low.

- Bring me down.
- You'll get yourself killed.

Bring it in low. Keep over the wing.

Lower.

John, what the fuck are you doin'
out on the wing of this plane?

Damn!

There's something wrong.

The ailerons. We can't take off.

It's McClane again.

Son of a bitch!

- I'll do him.
- This time, do it right.

Just get us in the air, General.
You're the only man who can do it.

Don't shoot. That wing is fully fuelled.

Too bad, McClane. I kinda liked you.

I got enough friends.

Time for the main event.

You motherfucker!

How's it goin'?

Happy landings, asshole!

Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker.

Holly!

Here's your fuckin' landing light.

Look! I see it.

They used the fuckin' fire to see.

They can all do that. Let's tell 'em.

They already know. Listen.

They're using the fire trail as a guide.
If they can do it, so can we.

Any landing you can walk
away from is a good one.

Holly!

Hi!

Oh, God. Oh, baby.

I thought I was never gonna see you again.

That's what I thought about you.

I love you so much.

They told me there were
terrorists at the airport.

Yeah. I heard that, too.

God, that's beautiful.

Yup. It sure is.

I love you so much.

John,
why does this keep happening to us?

Let's go home.

Somebody help me, please.

Honey, help me up here, please.

Asshole!

Hey, officer, come on!

Hop on in here. Get your missus in.

What do you say, Marv?

I'll be damned if
I'm gonna clean up this mess.

You get this parking ticket
in front of my airport?

Yeah.

What the hell. It's Christmas.

Take off, Marv!

English - US

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