All language subtitles for Finding.Steve.McQueen.2018.720p.WEBRip.x264-[YTS.AM]-eng

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...by the Organized Crime Strike
Force for the Eastern District...

Excuse me, sir.
It's about Harry Barber.

You look terrible.

Thank you.

Oh, uh...

Olivia Newton-John?

- Debbie Harry.
- Oh.

You know, Blondie?

What's wrong with you?

The usual, John?

- Yes.
- Okay.

No, actually...

Uh, could I please get
the banana muffin, and...

a double-decker cheesecake
with a chocolate fudge cookie,

the strawberry cream pie
with extra cream, please.

You know what? Just give me anything
with the word "fudge" in it.

That'd be great.

Okay.

- Thank you.
- Molly?

Coffee.

What's going on?

Well...

You know how much
I love you, right?

- And?
- And so...

There's something that I gotta
tell you that...

It's gonna sound
a little, uh, surprising.

And, you're really
not gonna like it.

Yeah, I'm getting that
I'm not gonna like it.

But I don't want you
to like, flip out on me.

Just shut up and talk.

See? Now, I don't want
to tell you because...

Speak!

I'm not who you think I am.

Whoa!

Shit.

Hey, Officer!

You again, huh.

Well, that figures.

Have we met?

Wrote you a ticket last week,
speeding on Federal.

You were driving a '69 Mustang.

'68, actually. I...

I traded her in.

For a '69 GTO?!

This bad boy's got 350
horsepower, stock, off the shelf.

Say what?

What do you have
in that Mustang?

394 barrel?

Yeah, but she only had 320,
and that was tops.

I guess you could've slabbed
a three-carb intake on it.

Those aluminium manifolds
ain't worth a damn though, huh?

- Yeah, right.
- What's your name again?

Steve McQueen.

Yeah. And I'm Ali MacGraw.

Cut the shit, turtleneck.

Give me your license.

Harry James Barber.

Your real name's Harry?

Harry James Barber.

And you changed your name because
of a bunch of speeding tickets.

- I changed my name because...
- Because why?

Because the FBI's
looking for me.

Eight years ago,
I robbed a bank in California.

Bullshit.

It was the biggest bank heist

in U.S. history. Look it up.

Enzo!

Bobby Lohman's here.

Hoffa got reamed big-time
by Nixon.

Had to drop trousers,
bend over the warden's desk

for a good dose of Tricky Dicky
to get out of the pen.

Fuck Nixon.

Exactly.
That's the whole idea.

We're gonna rip off the
President of the United States.

It doesn't get any bigger
or better than that.

How much we talking here?

Could be
as much as 30 million.

Hold on a sec. Does Hoffa know
you're pitching this to us?

What Jimmy Hoffa knows or doesn't
know is for him to know, not you.

I just wanna make sure
it's solid information.

I told you,
it's sterling fucking silver.

Our guy was in the room
when the White House coppos

were shaking down the Dairy Board for
off-the-book campaign contributions.

I even, uh,
got a little souvenir.

For you. Keep it.
I'll be waiting for your call.

Seems too good
to be true.

Why would Bobby make up
shit like this?

It just don't compute.

I mean, everyone knows Nixon's gonna
win re-election hands down, right?

Why would he put all this bag
money in a bank in California?

Because he's a crook. And
crooks don't know how to stop

when they're ahead,
so it computes perfectly.

We hit the bank,
take the 30-mil,

and Nixon can't do squat because
the money's filthy dirty.

Seems like the President
of the United States

could do whatever the fuck
he wants to do.

He's got the CIA, the FBI,

the ATF and the IRS.

It's like
an alphabet soup enema.

No thank you. I'm out.

It's the commander in chief who's gonna
be shitting in his pants, Pauly, not us.

Jesus, I know you
fucking hate Nixon.

He's a cocksucker.

And a motherfucker.

And a bullshit artist...

Yeah, I know.
I've heard this already.

Nixon'S hosed the steel
companies here in town.

He's trying to flush the unions
down the crapper,

he's out there killing
college kids with fucking M16s,

bombing naked little
Cambodian children,

running around
with fucking rice paddies.

And he's cramming
200,000 American boys

into a fucking meat-grinder
called Vietnam.

This isn't personal, Enzo.

- Oh, no? I didn't know that.
- We're professionals.

We don't know shit
about California.

Why don't we just stick
to our own backyard?

Life is too short.
We're not getting any younger.

Stop! Stop with the "we're not
getting any younger" bullshit, okay?

You wanna retire?
Go fucking retire.

But I'm not giving up
this kind of action

to go play bingo in
the basement of Saint Ignatius.

Nuh-uh. Not me.

I'm just saying,
we're not hurting for cash-flow.

We got a lot of business here.

30 million dollars.

I'd say business is looking up.

Tommy! Tommy!

That's my brother, Tommy.

He just got back from Vietnam.

I didn't know
you had a brother.

Harry!

Enzo wants to see you.

Nearly 40 000 American
soldiers have died in the Vietnam war.

And despite...

Yes, boss!

What is that thing?

No, don't! Don't, don't touch.

It's a memento mori clock.

A what?

It means, "remember to die".

It's from the 1700s,
and it's worth about 17 grand.

Does it work?

It will when I'm done with it.

You wanted to see me?

Yeah, come here.
Take a look at this.

This is a burglar alarm
from a bank in California.

It's something I've never
dealt with before.

I want you to look around town
and see if you could find one.

If you do, take photos.
You got it?

- Yes, boss.
- Because if you fuck this up,

you'll be stocking vending machines
for the rest of your natural life.

Oh, and Harry!

Keep a low profile.

Please, make it stop!

- Make it stop!
- What the fuck?

What the fuck is that?

Get this
the hell out of here.

What the fuck?

Hey!

- Do you even know what "low profile" means?!
- What?

I said get photos.
Huh, photos!

Photos wouldn't have
told you...

...that
the alarm ran on batteries.

Now, we know that
cutting the electricity

would have done shit.

Oh! Come here.

You got balls.

Torch the car.

What? This...

This is a Pontiac GTO, man.

This is gonna be
a classy car someday.

That's great. Always torch
the car after a job.

- I just stole it last week.
- Really?

Lesson fucking learned.

Torch a car
right after every job.

Can't believe this guy.

What are you, crying?

You got something
in your eyes? Huh?

Turn in your uniform.

What does that mean?

It means,
turn in your uniform.

What am I supposed to do?
How am I gonna get another job?

I got speeding tickets
that've gotten warrant by now.

Yeah, I gotta
take care of those

because you can't drive for me
with outstanding warrants.

You mean...

...I'm in?

Yeah, you're in.

Yes.

Can I hug you?

I should have
my fucking head examined.

You won't regret this.

I already do.

Uncle Enzo, um...

What about Tommy?

Don't press your luck.

Round everybody up.
Class is in session.

There's the motion detector.

That's what triggered it when
Harry ripped it off the wall.

Look, see that? No wires.

Works from a radio signal...

I gotta tell you, it took me five minutes
to pick the lock, on the bench here.

There's no way that I...

...can do that hanging off
the roof of the bank.

I don't know why we're gonna bust our
balls with some Pinas guy bank job

in some fucking lagoon.

It's Laguna Niguel, okay?

It's Spanish for... something.
I don't fucking know.

Just, just... stop the
"we don't need this job", okay?

You just said you can't pick
the lock upside down.

How are you gonna
shut off the alarm?

I'm working on it.

You better do better than that
if you expect me to back you up.

I know
how you could do it.

- You got some stuff here.
- Yeah, wipe your mouth.

- It's disgusting.
- What?

When Tommy got back from Nam,

I went and met him
in California,

and he had this buddy that
worked at a surf shop, right?

And in his shop, he had
this shit in an aerosol can

and he'd spray it in
the surf boards into the dents.

Anyway, it'd come out goopy, right.
And then, after a few seconds,

it'd expand,
swell up like crazy.

And then, after a couple of
minutes, it would go rock hard.

So they could shape the surfboard,
you know, uh, trim it, sand it, you know.

- The surfboards looked like brand new.
- Okay.

So, we all know
how to fix a surfboard now.

What the fuck does that
have to do with the alarm?

Squirt the goopy shit
through the vent,

let it expand, harden, it'll stop
the dinger from hitting the bell.

Son of a gun.

I like this kid.

Molly?

Honey.

- Come out here, sweetie.
- Go away.

Okay. I'm coming in.

Do not come in. Seven years, we've been together,

- and this is how you break up with me?
- Wait, what?!

You're too chicken shit to
say you're breaking up with me,

so you come up with this...
bullshit story instead.

- I'm tellin you the truth.
- Oh, sure. You're wanted by the FBI.

You know what?

If you wanna leave, fine.
Just leave.

Just don't make me
into a fool.

What is this?

I was in the post office
yesterday and,

I saw my own face
staring back at me.

- You colored your hair.
- Yeah.

And you... you curled it.

Yeah, to look
like Steve McQueen.

Well, I guess there's
a first time for everything.

Can we please
go back to the table?

Why? So you can lie to me
some more?

I'm not lying.

You lied to me from the moment you
said, "Hello, my name is John Baker."

So don't tell me
you're not lying.

Who are you?

Hey, Steve McQueen,
slow down.

We don't need no
speeding tickets.

Nobody knows
we're in California.

Let's just keep it that way.

If you see any movie stars,
pull over.

Yeah, could use some
Hollywood poontang.

Like that hippie chick
on Mod Squad,

wouldn't mind slippin' her
the high hard one.

Hippie chicks?! Shit no!
If I liked hairy armpits, I'd be a homo.

But you know who I do like?

I love that girl, what's her
name, that actress on, uh...

What's the show,...
All in the Family.

Edith Bunker.

Jesus Christ, no!
Not Edith Bunker!

The fucking daughter,
the one with the big tits.

- Goldie Hawn.
- Not Goldie Hawn.

She's on Laugh In.
I got bigger tits than her.

I'd nail Goldie Hawn,
tits or not tits.

I bet she's a real spinner.

Just fucking forget about it.

Sally Struthers.

Sally Struthers! There you go!

- "Sally Smothers".
- Jesus Christ!

Somebody put a bullet
in my head

and put me out
of my fucking misery back here.

Hey! Hey, that's it.
Knock it off! Come on, drive the car.

Just sit back
and enjoy the scenery.

You're acting
like a bunch of children.

Just look out the window, where you got the ocean.

There you got palm trees
and everything, my God.

Palm trees look like candles on a
birthday cake when they catch fire.

Oh, yeah.
This place is groovy.

Yeah, this place
looks like a porno.

Yeah, nice.

Hey. Check this out.

You see that building?

Just the other side
of the golf course.

That's the bank.

Yep.

- Good job, kid.
- Thanks, Enz.

Talk about a hole in one.

The fuck is that vat for?
We gonna crush some grapes?

That's a hot tub.

What the fuck is a hot tub?

Look at this, boys.
Like a picture fucking postcard.

No shit, huh? After this job,
I'ma get me a fucking hot tub.

Once we're in the crawlspace,

I'll cut the direct lines
to the alarms and sensors.

Cool.

Yeah. Polly will drill
into the vault ceiling

to place the dynamite.

That is so cool.

Yeah. And we're gonna blow
right through that thing.

Now, the burlap bags, Tommy will
fill with soil from the planters.

And that will be used for...

Uh, to muffle the sound
of the blast.

Yes, and to direct the blast
downward. Not up.

Genius.

And if everybody
does their job,

we should be looking
at Nixon's milk money...

...within an hour.

You ever read that
Jonathan Livingston Seagull?

Yeah, I heard that's
a pretty good book.

You know? You'll never look at those
cock-sucking birds the same again,

- I'll tell you that much.
- Smart birds.

Oh, you have no idea.

What the fuck?

Hey! Motherfuckers!

Sorry! I shanked my drive!

I'll shank you,
you sherbet-colored asshole!

Hey! Fuck you!

Fuck me? Fuck you!

I'll shove that fucking putter
up your fucking ass!

- It's a driver, you moron!
- Jesus H. Christ!

What the hell
are you guys doing?

You're supposed to be
laying low.

You gotta keep your cool, Ray.
All of you.

Harry's the only one here
with a modicum of intelligence.

What's a modicum?

Get out
of that thing, will ya?

Everybody get dressed.
We're going to look at the bank.

Remember, the bank?

The bank manager says they
leave at 5:30 p.m. on Friday,

and don't return
until Monday at 9 a.m.,

- so the break-in could've occurred any time between...
- Good morning, Sharon.

Good morning, sir.

- What do you think that is?
- It's not bird shit.

Whatever it is, it sure did
shut that alarm up, didn't it?

Huh.

Damn it.

The front and back doors
were still locked.

The alarm never tripped,
no prints, no witnesses.

The bank manager said he didn't
notice anything unusual

until he opened up the vault.

This is not local work.

How do you know that?

This is Southern California.

Why break a sweat
chopping a hole in a roof,

when all you need is a starter
pistol, and a freeway map?

I'm not sure I follow, sir.

We're the bank robbery
capital of the world.

For two reasons:
on-ramps, and off-ramps.

I mean, the last time I saw
a vault job like this,

Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin
were doing it.

In that movie.

Ocean's Eleven.

Oh, I never saw it, sir.

You gotta get out more,
Sharon.

Yes, sir.

I was here on Saturday.

What were you doing here?

Sam plays little league. This is
the pick-up spot for the away teams.

I been doing double duty
ever since

Karen and I, we decided
to take a little break.

You didn't notice anything
when you were here?

Nope.

Well, how do you blast a three-foot
diameter hole in concrete,

without anyone
noticing anything?

Well, you gotta be very good,
and very lucky.

Or both.

That's the only thing
standing between us,

and Nixon's milk money.

18 inches of concrete
ain't cream cheese.

Nah, Pauly,
you could do it in your sleep.

He's gonna fucking wake up a few
folks when he sets that shit off.

And what about this joint
next door?

Looks pretty quiet to me.

Throw in a few extra sand bags,
no big deal.

Ja-Narly's.
What kind of name is that? Italian?

It's not Ja-Narly's,
it's Gnarly's.

You know, like... Extreme.

Radical. Balls out.

- Balls out?
- Yeah.

No, fuck that shit,
I ain't going to no gay bar.

Come on,
let's go around back.

Hey, asshole!

You mean this shit is gonna be
going on when we're doing the job?

We can come back
when they close.

What, one a.m.?

That only gives us four hours
before sunrise.

Maybe a little noise
is just what we need.

There you go,
number one.

Shake those boobs, yeah!
Nice tits!

Where you going?

To find Tommy.

I'm from Siena, in Italy,
but I came across to the U.S.

- And your name is Tommy?
- Mm-hmm.

I will call you Tomato.

I trusted you.

I know.

Like I never trusted
nobody before.

I know!

We're not open 'til noon!

Give me a boilermaker!

I said we're closed.

They're burying my husband
at the cemetery across the road,

so I'm gonna need
a boilermaker...

And a dollar's worth
of quarters.

Miss?

You're new.

Yeah. Just started last week.

- I hate pantyhose.
- Me too.

- Boilermaker.
- Boilermaker.

Thanks.

Rot in hell, Donald Murphy!

I'll have another.

Sorry for your loss.

I'm not.

I just put all my eggs
in the wrong basket.

You ever done that?

Yeah.

You could say that.

He cheated on me a year ago.

With my best friend.

You know, I never did trust him.

How'd he pass away?

He didn't exactly "pass away",

as much as he passed
on the right.

He rear-ended a flatbed truck
parked on the side of the road.

He was drunk.

Drunk, and decapitated.

You know, he wasn't exactly
still my husband.

I left him.

Moved back home
with my folks.

Would've been my ex-husband.

But now...

I'm the widow Murphy,
and I get the life insurance.

Ain't karma grand?

You believe in karma.

Yeah, consequences.

Good always equals good,
and bad always bites you in the ass,

you just never know when.

Shit! Shit, shit, shit!
No! No!

Please don't tell them
I'm here!

Hey, guys.

You the new guy?

Yeah.

Uh-huh...

Molly Murphy come in here?

Pff... who's that?

Young woman, black dress.
Is kinda... scrawny looking.

It's just me, Officer.

I mean,
we're not even open, yet.

Okay. Well, if you see a chick
in a black dress come in here,

you tell her there's a funeral service
waiting for her across the road.

Scrawny gal.

Will do, Officer.

Thanks.

So, you gonna go
to the funeral?

I don't know.

I really just want
to keep hiding.

Do you know the old
Vogue Theater?

Of course.

Well, I rent
the apartment upstairs,

I think it used to be the manager's
office, or something.

That's the key to the side door.

And this is the key to my car,
it's parked out in the front.

Take it.

That's really nice.

Um, put this on my tab.

Do you have a tab?

No. What did you say
your name was?

John Baker.

John Baker. I'm Molly Murphy.

It's nice to meet you.

Thank you, Mr. Fickner.

Is that seat taken?

Yes.

I thought I'd find you
passed out,

with an empty bottle
of Jack Daniel's.

Well, you know,
I'm not really much of a drinker.

Pff... You were doing
pretty good earlier.

I didn't know
what else to do.

You know, I used to come here
every weekend.

- Yeah?
- Mm-hmm.

When did the place shut down?

About five years ago.
I saw Bonnie and Clyde here.

Three times, in the same day.
Did you ever see it?

Yeah, yeah.
Just the once, though.

I could watch it
a thousand more times.

Why do you like it so much?

Well, it's one of the greatest
love stories of all time.

They were fearless.

Always staying one step ahead
of the law.

Warren Beatty would do anything
to keep Faye Dunaway safe,

and she would do anything
for him.

Right until the end.

That's love.

It's romance.

I'm gonna have sex with you.

Not today.

I'm not exactly sure when.

I'll let you know.

Cool.

This is my new
number one rule:

No more lies.

That's...
That's a pretty good rule.

Yeah, you don't need
any others if you got that one.

I guess not.

Let's go, come on!

Harry! Come on!

Look at this thing.

Last time I saw
a shit box like this,

was in a pawn shop
in Cincinnati. What a joke.

Alright, here we go.

Give me the radio.

Anything on the scanner?

Not a fucking peep.

Sounds like they only got
one patrol car working,

and he's writing a ticket for
an illegal bonfire on the beach.

Here.

Come on, we're clear.
Let's go, hurry up!

Fire in the hole,
motherfuckers!

Do it.

Earthquake!

Jesus Christ, Pauly!
What the fuck?!

It was tough drilling,
so I upped the charge!

Just my miscalculation,
don't go shitting yourself!

Shut up!

I think we're getting a call.

Yes, fuck.

Patrol car's on its way
to check the bank, fuck!

Christ, it wasn't that loud!

- Let's get out of here!
- Sit tight.

Harry. Take a walk out front
and see what you see.

Take a radio. Tommy,
help him with the ladder.

They're heading around back.

Harry!
Get out of there, now!

Don't worry. I got a plan.

No, Harry, no!
What are you doing?!

Harry?!

Watch it, asshole!

Fuck you!

Alright, alright.
Settle down.

Fuck you! Bitch!

Fuck off!

Fuck!

This is an arrest.
We're taking him in.

- Fuck! I didn't do shit!
- Cut it out!

I love this podunk town.

Damn. There must be a thousand
fucking boxes down here.

Nah. 500-600, tops.

We're never gonna get
all these fuckers popped open.

We came here
to personally rob

the President
of the United States of America,

and we are not leaving
until we do.

Harry, Tom! Come on!

We should start
with the big boxes first.

No. Every box in order,
on each wall. Starting there.

We're never gonna be able to squeeze
30 million of these little boxes.

Hey, Pauly. It's not all gonna be in cash.
These ain't drug dealers.

These guys are slick,
they're politicians.

We're taking bearer bonds,
offshore accounts,

cashiers checks. That's how
these cocksuckers roll.

That's it!

Fucking bag, come on!

We're still looking
for the shit dick!

Hey, look at this!

It's remains.

Look at this!
Fucking Kruggerands up the wazoo!

Hey, hey, diamonds too.
Some pretty swanky shit going on.

It's like fucking Christmas!

Alright, half an hour
before sunrise.

Let's bag it up.

We cleared
over four million that night.

But we still hadn't found
Nixon's money.

And Enzo, he wouldn't stop
until we did.

But with the bank closed
for the weekend,

we still had Saturday
and Sunday night to go.

So let me get this straight.

You guys set out to rob Nixon?

Shh! Yes.

The President
of the United States.

Seemed like a good idea
at the time.

And you thought you could
get away with that how, exactly?

Because it was dirty money.

See, we figured Nixon
couldn't do nothing to us

if we ripped him off.

We were wrong.

He's getting better,
don't you think?

What?

- Sharon.
- Sir.

More coffee?

I can get my own coffee.
Thanks.

Yes, sir.

Sharon. How long
were you on a desk

before they let you
into the academy?

Two years, sir.

You're the first female
through, right?

One of two. Yes, sir.
Thank you, sir.

I was a first, too.
A lot of pressure.

This is my, um...

...eighth field office
in ten years.

Karen said that she never wanted
to move again.

It's ironic, you know.

You give up a lot to do this.
A lot.

Don't want to give up
everything, though.

Gotta find balance.

I haven't been able
to find it yet,

but I'm optimistic.

Sir?

Um, I thought
about what you said,

about getting out more.

I got... tickets
for The Godfather.

Have you seen it?

- Uh... Twice.
- Right.

Sir? Deputy Director Felt
is here.

Felt's in the office?

He just came in
from Washington unannounced,

and he's not alone.

How are you?

Confused.

So am I.

The inventory
of the safety deposit box

that's supplied by the bank

seems somehow incomplete.

Apologies, Howard.

Let me save you some time,
sir.

These 456 boxes...
were smashed open.

Some of them still contained
cash and jewelry.

The burglars were obviously
looking for something specific.

Any ideas?

Not yet.

But I'm well-equipped to handle
this investigation on my own, sir.

Of course you are.

With all due respect,

why have an additional hundred
agents been assigned to my case?

There's a very high level of
interest in this case, Howard.

From Mr. Hoover?

Higher.

Higher?

This incident appears
to have created

some consternation
in the Oval office.

- Can you tell me?
- I can't.

I haven't been offered
an explanation myself.

I find that very hard
to believe, sir.

I'd imagine you would.

There's a bumper crop of secrets
in Washington these days, Howard.

That's why I need you
to solve this case

as quickly as possible,
so we can find out

what the hell it is
they're not telling us.

I've gotta get back.
You report directly to me.

Yes, sir.

Everything okay?

I should have taken
that coffee.

Well, we're out of coffee.

And desks, and telephones,
and toilet paper.

I finally get something
interesting,

and they want to take it
from me.

Between this
and San Clemente,

there are more federal agents
here than in Washington.

San Clemente?

Yes, sir.

The President
is spending his vacation there.

The Western White House?

What is it?

San Clemente is ten miles
away from that bank.

What does that have to do
with the bank job?

Maybe nothing.

Maybe everything.

What's the golden rule
of a homicide investigation?

- Motive.
- Motive!

So, why this bank,

and why these
safe-deposit boxes?

'Cause they knew
what they were looking for.

Exactly, they knew.

You have any customers
with out of state addresses?

As a matter of fact,
I think so.

Let's have a look,
let's check it out.

Here we go.

C.W. Colson, with a P.O. box
in Arlington, Virginia.

Arlington? Alright.

I want you to do the background
check personally on Mr. Colson.

Yes, sir.

Good.

Sharon? Have you been
following this Watergate thing?

Yes, sir.

What do you think about it?

From what I read
in the papers,

that crew seems like
a bunch of amateurs.

You think our case has something
to do with that circus?

I don't know.

But, what I do know is that

the last time the Bureau

assigned 100 agents
to a single investigation,

was when John F. Kennedy
was assassinated.

I swear to God, the next time
I think I'm gonna fall in love,

I'm gonna fall off
a bridge instead.

Of all the small towns
in the country...

...why did you pick Deerwood?

Actually. I didn't pick it,
it kind of picked me.

You see, I was driving
through town,

and the water pump
in my truck went out.

By the time I got it fixed,

I had a job
at the Deer Meat Tavern.

Then I met you.

You stayed in Deerwood
because of me?

What do you think?

Now, remember, okay?

Don't mention that we met
at the Deer Meat Tavern.

What are you doing?

The great escape.

So you tell them
that we met in town.

- Whereabouts?
- Dairy Queen.

What happened to your
"no lie" rule?

This is the exception
that makes the rule.

And listen, maybe don't bring up
Nixon, or Watergate.

My dad's a Republican.

Oh, and he hates
Billie Jean King,

and Phil Donahue,
and Jane Fonda.

Are you
a Pittsburgh Pirates fan?

I don't have to be.

No, that's good!
My dad loves the Pirates!

Molly, why is there...

Hey, everyone!

Hey!

Go, Pirates.

This is John Baker.

He's new in town,
so don't act like the SWAT team

and scare him off, okay?

Oh, now. Come on down, here.
Welcome to our home!

John, right? John, is it?

Just call me Jerry,
everybody does.

Hey, sweetheart.

Look, everybody.
There's fever in the funk house.

- Now! It's a party!
- I promise, I promise. Rose, Rose...

- You are beautiful.
- Mom, stop mashing on my boyfriend!

How 'bout a beer?
Could you stand a beer? Alright.

- You want a beer?
- He's like a young Troy Donahue.

Oh, don't even start.
He thinks he's Steve McQueen!

Look at that.

- So, what do you think?
- Are you kidding?

He's a doll.

And your father seems
to like him, too.

- Yeah?
- And he's a Pirates fan, how 'bout that?

How 'bout that?

I'm gonna get you!

So, you think it's okay
if I sleep with him?

- Oh, Molly.
- What?

You shouldn't be asking
me questions like that.

Well, I got a new rule.
No lies.

And what good are rules
if you don't use 'em, right?

Well...

If you want to.

Sure, why not.
You're a big girl.

I love you, Mom.

Just don't use your new rule
on your father or your sister,

- you know how they are.
- I love you, Mom!

I heard you the first time.

See ya!

Bye!

Sweet.

You never told me
your dad was the sheriff.

If I told guys my dad
was the sheriff,

I'd still be a virgin.

Looks like I'll be
sticking around for a while.

Well, you better.

Or I'll have my dad arrest you
for impersonating my boyfriend.

Really?
I'm your boyfriend now?

If you don't screw it up.

I screwed it up, didn't I?

You think, John?
John...

Harry!

Steve McQueen! I don't even
know what to call you anymore!

Mr. Nixon says emphatically,

that the White House
is in now way involved

in the burglary and bugging
of the Democratic headquarters,

and he'll have no further
comment on that matter.

Hot, hot, hot.

Come on!

How does this motherfucking
piece of shit work?!

Push the lever to the right.

What lever?
There's only buttons.

This lever.

Look at you.
A real Thomas Edison, boy genius, huh?

What? You don't have
a dishwasher at home?

Yeah, I got
a dishwasher at home.

I married her, fuck nuts!

Hey, what's
the mirror for, Uncle Enzo?

It's a burglar alarm
for burglars, Tommy.

If I don't see a reflection, it means
somebody's found our hole in the roof.

And then we get the hell
out of dodge.

I don't think you're meant
to use a knife.

Scissors don't work.
The pieces are too thick.

Hey, I'm gonna catch
a matinée.

Yeah, which one?

- Getaway.
- Again?

Yeah. You wanna come?

Nah, nah.
I'm gonna finish this.

- You sure?
- Yeah.

I've seen The Getaway
six times.

The Thomas Crown Affair,
eight.

The Magnificent Seven,
I've seen...

Well, seven.

You wanna know my favorite?
The movie that I love the most?

Bullitt.

I told Mr. Weakler
that Steve McQueen's your hero.

And next week, he's gonna play
Bonnie and Clyde.

Since I've been helping out,
and stuff.

- You okay?
- Yeah.

I dunno what's wrong with me,
I guess I'm just happy.

There's nothing wrong with being happy.

I am.

I just wish I came here before.

What?

Nothing.

Well, I guess it wasn't
exactly nothing, right?

'Kay. Keep going.

Okay, so...

We went back
on the Saturday night.

And that's when
it all started to go...

...sideways.

Heads up.

Enzo, you read me?

Yeah Ray, what's going on?

Unmarked car
just pulled in the back.

Coming up.

Keep everything quiet.

I can fucking smell
an unmarked car, it's a cop!

Calm down.

Anything on the scanner?

No. Not a goddamn thing.

Look. If it's a cop,
I take him out,

and we get outta here,
before anyone else shows...

We're bank burglars,
not cop killers.

It's either that, or we grow
wings, and fly the fuck away.

Okay, okay.

If it's a cop,
but only...

if it's a cop.
And no headshot.

You can't be serious.

You got no vote, here.

What are you
doing here anyway, Harry?

Just make sure you give this son
of a bitch a chance to survive.

No promises.

He's getting out of the car.

You see that? 12-gauge.
What the fuck did I tell you?

That's a fucking cop.

He touches that shotgun,
he dies.

What the fuck is he doing?

If Ray opens up,
we get off this roof doubletime,

you got me? Pauly first,
then Tommy.

Harry, me, Ray. Just spread out,

and get back to the house
as fast as you can.

Why don't we just leave
right now?

What if somebody needs...

I said you got no vote!

You do as I say,
or you're going off the roof.

Head first!

Is that clear? You got that?

Hold on. Hey, hey.
What the fuck is this?

Who are these assholes?

Somebody wanna tell me
what the fuck is going on?

Hey!

It's a little league game!

- Shit!
- Son of a bitch!

I almost shot the fucking
little league.

Fuck.

- Calm down. Hey, whoa, whoa!
- What the fuck!

Put the gun down, put the gun down.
Don't worry about it.

- D'you get a hit today?
- No, I struck out.

Don't worry.
You'll get it next time.

That's when I knew
that I was in over my head.

That I'd made a terrible
mistake.

Let's finish this.

I'm so full.
I can't eat anymore.

The story. Finish the story.

So, it was Sunday night.

The third time
returning to the bank.

Heads up.

Enzo, you read me?

Yeah, Ray, what's up?

It is getting busy out here.

It's definitely a Monday
morning, you know what I mean?

Yeah. I know
what fucking day it is.

Pack it up, boys.
Bring it all up the ladder, we're done.

Since when do you run
this crew?

Since you lost
your goddamn fucking mind.

And to be honest,

I don't think your goddamn
fucking 30 mil is here.

Even if it is, it's time to go.

Shit!

Fucking asshole, Nixon!

Hey. We did our best.

Guys like him,
they always come out on top.

They always come out on top!

They're gonna make fucking
statues of him!

And they're gonna plaster
his dog-ass face

on first class fucking stamps!

Guys like me and you,
he is a bigger crook

than we will ever fucking be!

Maybe someday, someone will
nail something on him. Okay?

Hope springs eternal. Right?

Never fucking happened, Pauly.
Never.

Let's just get the fuck
out of here.

That's what a 12-million
dollar boat looks like, boys.

Next stop, Vegas.

Lake Havasu.

Get that money in there.
Hurry up. Boom.

Pauly, did you get that bleach
in the drains?

All done, boss.

Ray, all the countertops,
right?

Yep. Spick and span.

Harry.

Here's your cut, and Tommy's.

I'll see you back in Youngstown.

There's only 20 000.

12-million dollar heist...
And all we get is 10k apiece.

You can have my cut,
I don't care.

Well, I care, Tommy.

You okay?

- Yeah.
- Yeah?

What you got there?

Baseball cards.

It's from the bank,
Enzo said I could have it.

Any gum?

No, just cards.

Jesus Christ.

Well, I got a Johnny Bench
MVP card in here.

Good, Tommy.

12-million dollar heist,
and all we get is 10k,

and some gum-less
baseball cards.

Let's go, Tommy.

Excuse me, sir? Sir?

I've got something.

C.W. Colson is
Charles Wendell Colson,

a.k.a. Chuck Colson.

Date of birth, 10/16/1931.

The P.O. box is actually a mail drop a
couple of miles from his house in Arlington.

Married twice, three kids.

He did a hitch in the Marine Corps.
It's quite a resume.

What does Mr. Colson
do for a living?

Special Counsel to the
President of the United States.

Nixon?

Oh.

Got it.

Got it.

Tommy?

When we get back home,

we're not working
for Enzo anymore.

Yeah, but... I mean, he's our uncle.
He's family, Harry.

He doesn't care about us, Tom.

So, what are we gonna do?

We'll figure something out.

You and me.

Hmm.

Got it.

- Good morning, sir.
- I spoke with Mr. Colson.

He said all he had in his safe-deposit
box was an album of baseball cards.

He estimates a value
of between $200-$300.

Baseball cards.

Mickey Mantle, Joe DiMaggio,
so on and so forth.

He said he would try and
recollect all the cards he had,

and send me a complete list.

We're supposed
to believe that, sir?

That he had an album full
of baseball cards

in a safe-deposit box
3000 miles away?

Well, Howard,

we have to take Mr. Colson
at his word,

that's all
we can do at the moment.

I'd like to talk to Mr. Colson
if that's okay with you, sir.

No. I'm afraid not.

Neither you, or anyone
on your team

is to have any contact with Mr. Colson,
is that clear?

How am I supposed to
conduct this investigation...

Sometimes smoking guns
are too hot to handle, Howard.

You have to give them time
to cool down.

Cool down?

You read the Washington Post,
Howard?

No, sir.

You should.

There's an article
by a couple of young reporters

Woodward and Bernstein.

You might find it interesting.

Bye for now, Howard.

Get me the Washington Post.

Tag an article
by Woodward and Bernstein.

- Sharon, you see this?
- Yes, sir.

I want each and every house
on the entire hillside

checked out, door to door.
And I want it done today.

Looks like we drilled
a dry hole.

Maybe I was wrong
about that mirror.

The house was rented
under the name "Steve McQueen."

That has to mean something.

Female intuition
should be admissible evidence.

Karen had great instincts too.

Men.

I've got fingerprints
in the kitchen!

It's a crew out of Youngstown,
Ohio. Enzo Rotella,

Paul Callahan,
and Raymond Darrow.

That's only three suspects,
we found five sets of fingerprints.

Yeah, well I've got our guys working on
it in double shifts around the clock.

Excellent work.

We still have two sets
of fingerprints

- we haven't ID'd yet, sir.
- You will.

Howard, let me buy you
a cup of coffee.

You look like you could use one.

You were up in Sacramento before
you came to Santa Ana, weren't you?

Yes, sir. And Boise.
And Minneapolis before that.

Amongst many others.

Well, I think it's time
you had your final transfer.

It's time you came
to Washington, DC.

Sir?

I need a man who can work
the halls of power,

without being awestruck
by the architecture, Howard.

Tell me. How are you and the
missus getting on these days?

Working things out.

Glad to hear that.

And how would she feel

if I asked you to move
your family to Washington?

She wouldn't like it,
but for this,

I think she'd understand.

Good. You got three weeks.

Three weeks?

That should be ample time

for you to finish up
with this case.

You have to hand it to them,
these fellows from Youngstown,

they certainly upset
the applecart, didn't they?

And whose applecart
was that, sir?

Well, you'll have to ask them what they
were looking for, and who it belonged to.

That way you can say
you didn't hear it from me.

Which you haven't.

It'll give us something
to talk about

when you get to Washington, DC.

They flew
from Cleveland to Los Angeles

under their real names.
Enzo Rotella, Paul Callahan,

Ray Darrow, and two brothers.

Harry and Tommy Barber.

Tommy served a tour
in Vietnam.

We tracked his prints
to the U.S. Army database.

And Harry Barber?
You got his photo?

There's nothing in our system.
He's probably the first set of prints

that we haven't ID'd yet.

But take a look at this.

Hertz rented
a 1972 Cadillac DeVille

to a customer named
"Steve McQueen".

The car was paid for
in hundred-dollar bills,

and returned in Las Vegas.

So, they all escaped
to Las Vegas?

Maybe not all.

A neighbor reported
seeing two men getting picked up

in a cab outside
of a vacation house.

So, I check the local taxi logs,
and guess who I found?

Steve McQueen.

Driver got a hell of a tip,
too. Hundred-dollar bill.

And nobody knows about this
but you and me?

- Just you and me, sir.
- Okay.

I want to inspect
that taxi cab myself.

- Don't let anybody touch it.
- Yes, sir.

- Gonna stay here?
- Yes.

Okay.
Let's put out a bulletin

to all the local P.D.'s
nationwide

for misdemeanor fingerprints.

See if we can't tag
this Harry J. Barber.

And if we can't find him,
find me Steve McQueen.

Colson.

Is it always like that, or...
Do you get used to it?

It's always like that.

How did I not notice this?

'Cause whenever it got bad...

...I got really scared,

I'd pretend I was someone else.

Someone that could
keep their cool no matter what.

Even if the cops showed up.

Let me guess.

Steve McQueen.

41 outstanding
speeding tickets,

all paid two weeks
before the heist.

Did a year long
stint in juvie.

It's all we've got on him
at the moment.

Let's call
the Cleveland office.

Tell them it's showtime.

Agent Price.

You coming?

Fuck!

Yeah.

Where's Harry Barber?

Harry who?

It's just a matter of time.

A matter of time.

We'll see about that.

Let's go.

...slowing down,
or even some suggested, resigning.

Any suggestion...

...that this president is ever
going to leave this office

until he continues to do the job,
and finishes the job he was elected to do,

anyone who suggests that,
that's just plain poppycock.

I got two of the same.
Take it.

I'm going to the store.
You want anything?

More baseball cards.

Okay, Tommy.

I love you, Harry.

Where'd that come from?

I don't know.

I love you too, Tommy.

That was the last time
I saw my little brother.

I left Youngstown that day,
and I've been running ever since.

But I'm done running now,
Molly.

No, you're not.

We'll go to Mexico together.

I called your father
this morning.

He'll be here any minute.

No. Come on!

Molly. Molly, what are you...

Please. Molly!

Hey! Where are you going?

My motorcycle.

You're gonna ride it
all the way to Mexico?

Canada. It's only five hours
to the border.

You know anyone in Toronto?

- No, and neither do you, Molly.
- Okay then, whatever!

We'll go on the run,
like Bonnie and Clyde!

Wait a minute. Didn't Bonnie
and Clyde get shot to death?

Oh yeah.

He's not gonna run, is he?

'Cause I've been chasing
this guy for a long time.

He's not going anywhere.

Tell your men to stand down.

Stand down!

No more lies.
That's my new rule.

I'll wait for you. Okay?

I'll wait for you forever.

How 'bout five to ten years?

It's time to go, Harry.

You really think
there's happily ever after

for people like us?

Faye Dunaway said that.

To Steve McQueen.

In The Thomas Crown Affair.

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