All language subtitles for [SubtitleTools.com] Reacher.S04E07.Vote.For.Sampson.ENG

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Previously on Reacher...

Hand over the drive, Reacher.

Gun!

I got it. Move.

We got a GSW to the chest.

He's one of the guys.

Stop!
Get down! On the ground now!

Jacob. Mother of God.

- You're safe now, kid.
- Why are we idling, Monty?

I love you so much, Jakey.

- It's for the best.
- No, no, no.

- Please don't let them take me.
- Shut the fuck up.

- I get locked up, they'll get to me.
- Shut the...

How long until they figure out
it's all connected,

to Indonesia and Anna Merrick?

He's on the run.

His only option is
to go after the guy in that photo.

You find that man
and you'll find Jack Reacher.

We need to speak
with Leo Ahlquist, please.

I want to know what's on these servers,

and how it's connected
to that photo you're in.

- Don't move.
- So, the mercenaries

- have been yours the whole time.
- You should've walked out

of that police station
three days ago and left Philly.

Don't deal with them in the office.
Take them off-site.

They're gonna drive us deep into the woods
and then they're gonna kill us.

Time to die.

No head shots.

Less blood to clean.

Hey, there.

Can you guys help me out?

I-I've been trying to find the lake,
and I'm just lost as hell.

Yeah, wrong way, pal.
This is private property.

- Ah, man, I must have taken a bad turn.
- We got to warn him.

- We shout, they'll kill him.
- This place is so confusing.

Maybe he'll just leave.

Just turn around,
go back the way you came.

See, that's the thing,
I don't even know where the main road is.

D-Do you mind taking a look
at my map for me?

Yeah, sure. Let's take a look.

No!

Reacher. Ma'am.

So, Sampson did know

who was in that photo.

Not till after you called.

Did some checking with old sources,

figured out it was Ahlquist.

Sent me down here to talk to him.

Showed up at his building to see
these guys load you two into a van,

so... I followed.

Unlock us.

We have a conversation
to finish with Ahlquist.

End of the line.

- Let's go.
- No. Get-get off.

Let's go.

- All right.
- Okay.

- Down there, around the corner.
- Listen. Listen to me.

- Listen--
- I don't...

just do what I fucking tell you.

You don't have to do this.

All right. That's better.

Okay. Face me.

Okay.

Get out of here.

I-I thought you were gonna kill me.

What the hell
kind of cop you think I am?

I don't know. What kind are you?

The kind who almost
turned the car around three times

to actually bring you in.

- So why didn't you?
- Because of that guy

whose ear Reacher ripped off.

We thought he was on the job.

Turns out,
no one could find him in the system.

Next thing we know, these CIA assholes

come to take him away,
tell us "it never happened."

Real men in black shit.

And that one-eared fuck,

he had a tranquilizer gun
and a key to Reacher's cell.

What does that sound like to you?

That they were gonna murder him.

So, what the hell has
my partner gotten herself into?

It's... really complicated.

Then speak slowly.

The night my sister died,

she had a jump drive with
sensitive government information on it.

The thing that the Feds were looking for?

They weren't the only ones who wanted it.

These two Indonesian women, the CIA,

some well-trained operatives.

But we found it first.

Is that how we got to that, uh,
shoot-out in that restaurant?

Yeah.

The women wound up with it.

Do you know what's on it?

A decades-old photo.

Tamara and Reacher went to talk
to one of the men in the picture,

some, uh, chemist named Leo Ahlquist.

Chemist?

- What?
- We found a bunch of chemistry stuff

at the restaurant,
like beakers and Bunsen burners and shit.

Looked like someone was
planning on making something.

That can't be good.

So, where's this Ahlquist?

Dover.

It's a little out of my jurisdiction,

but if she needs help in Philly,
tell her to call me.

I'll do what I can.

You know how Tamara ended up

working with a clock-puncher like me?

By insisting on doing the right thing.

You know, she's a pain in the ass,
but she's the most stand-up police I know.

And I knew all that stuff they were saying
about her on the news was garbage.

Are you gonna get in trouble for this?

Not if I can help it.

Hey.

Okay. Right here.

Just right here.

- "Right here" what?
- Butt of the gun,

right here where the skin is tight,
all right?

The story will be you faked a seizure,

I checked on you, you attacked,

you headbutted me,
knocked me loopy and then escaped.

You got 15 years on me.

They'll believe
that you got the jump on my old ass.

Maybe I also ran off with the gun, too?

No, don't press your luck, all right?

I'm gonna be fucked enough over this
without losing my piece, all right?

Let's do this. It's showtime, all right?

- Ow, ah, oh.
- Ooh.

- Okay, all right, all right, good, good.
- Okay. You okay?

Good. Good work, good work.

All right, now get moving,
keep your head down.

Oh, can you do me a favor?

I'm pretty sure
I'm doing you one right now.

Check in on Russell Plum.

GSW admitted to Penn Presby.

Okay? Tell him...

...I'm sorry I left him at the library.

Yeah, sure.

I don't know how to thank you.

By getting the fuck out of here.
We're not friends now, all right?

We're not having a moment here. Get lost.

The person
you have reached

- is not available at this time.
- You got to be fucking kidding me.

Please leave a message.

Where the hell are you?

I need confirmation

you completed your assignment,
so we can--

We never got to finish our talk.

Ow!

How did you find me?

I saw how many hard drives
you had to shred,

so I waited outside your office
till you were done and tailed you.

I can get you money. You want money?

- I'll get you money.
- I want answers.

What's in that photograph
that's so important

you and everyone else
are willing to kill for it?

Remember how I said
I was gonna make you talk?

No, no, n--

Goddamn it!

Fuck!

No, no, no! Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

I'll tell... I'll tell you anything
you want to know. Don't...

The photograph.

It contains the formula

for a chemical
weapon of mass destruction.

There's no formula in the photograph.

It's there. You just can't see it.

- Start making sense!
- Okay, okay.

Let me explain.

Get to it.

After the '95 sarin gas attacks
on the Tokyo subway,

the U.S. figured that chemical weapons

would be the next WMD of choice
for the world's worst terrorists...

...so the CIA secretly contracted DARPA.

I was working there,

an assistant, just out of grad school.

They assigned me to a project,
Operation Mongoose.

We were supposed to create
chemical weapons

and then reverse engineer them

to find antidotes and countermeasures.

Geneva Protocol and Chemical
Weapons Convention outlawed them.

It was all off the books.

An Indonesian Army general named Putra

was trying to get the U.S. Special Forces
to come and train his men for a while.

Now, Putra was sketchy, but Washington
saw an opportunity to cut a deal.

In exchange for training,

Putra would allow the CIA to build

a secret chemical weapons lab
in the rainforest.

John Sampson knew about this?

No.
We were told to keep it from Sampson

and the guys under him.

Stay low.

Stay low.

Stay low.

Stay low. Stay low.

Move, move, move.

Sampson was a Boy Scout.

If he'd known we were breaking
international law,

he'd have blown the whistle.

He thought we were there
doing malaria research.

The only Delta guy
who knew what we were really doing

was their commanding officer, Cahill.

He helped us cover it up.

So, that's why Cahill was
on the subway that night?

- Still trying to bury all this?
- Yes.

When that clerk Merrick
stole the Delta files,

she must have tripped
some alarm in the system.

The Department of Defense
sent some of their guys to follow her...

...see where she was taking
the stolen info.

They picked up her trail
a few blocks from work.

They figured it was low-level stuff,
since it was from Indonesia in '98.

They had no idea
what that photo could unleash.

They called Sampson's office
as a courtesy.

It was late.

- Cahill was the only one there.
- Cahill.

He knew, if those files were
being targeted,

there must have been
something incriminating in it.

It didn't take him long
to realize what it was.

Cahill caught up with the Feds
tailing Merrick,

he cut them off,
made them get into a fender bender

on the highway so they lost her scent.

Feds never saw him,
and he kept on Anna's tail.

He was Delta.

That kind of stuff was in his wheelhouse.

He tracked her all the way to the subway.

He was gonna take the drive from her
as soon as he got her alone.

Then everything went to hell.

But you know that part, don't you?

So, when the cops came,
Cahill slipped out and called to warn you.

He made two calls.

One to me and one to Foster,

the CIA officer
who ran Operation Mongoose.

I know Foster. I ripped his ear off.

Calling Foster makes sense,

'cause Cahill wanted whatever was on
that drive to never see the light of day,

and Cahill figured that the CIA gave them
the best chance of doing that quietly.

But why call you?

Like you said,
you were just an assistant.

Snap that shit.

No! No! No!

He called because I was using
what we learned in the jungle,

and Cahill knew that.

How did he know?

Uh, after I made billions off pesticides,
when my company grew,

my name was in the press a lot

and Cahill recognized me from Indonesia.

He reached out years ago,

worried that I was gonna do something
to expose Operation Mongoose.

I told him that would be
the last thing I'd let happen.

What we created in that illegal operation
was the basis for my whole business.

If that comes out, we're all ruined.

That's why you hired the mercenaries.

You wanted to make sure the job got done.

But if they had the same goal as the CIA--
suppress the drive--

why kill the CIA operatives in D.C.?

My company's done business in some
of the world's most dangerous places,

and so we've had to hire
some of the world's most dangerous people.

Sometimes, they've gone too far.

I never wanted them to kill anyone.

Except maybe those two women.

You know who they really are?

My guys found out
through some of their sources.

The older one, who calls herself "Amisha,"

used to be in Putra's special forces unit.

Worshiped him, from what I understand.

The younger one, Lila, is her acolyte.

Both extremely dangerous.

You could call them
international criminal opportunists.

They usually work for hire,

except, in this case,
they saw an opportunity

to make a lot of money and they took it.

And we're back to the photo.

Sampson was documenting
the training for Washington.

I guess we'd gotten careless,

but we were doing things that none
of the soldiers there understood anyway.

We looked down on them,
thought they weren't very smart.

We probably should have been
better with security.

Sir, General Putra wants to take a photo
with the two of us.

Okay, but let's do it outside.

No, no, no, no. Too bright.

It will turn out
much better in here. Come.

Now you send this to Washington, D.C.
so they will always know

what a good friend they have in me, yes?

Of course, General.

Cahill would have
destroyed the photo after,

but when it was developed,
he saw that the whiteboard

with our formula on it
was in the background, out of focus.

And so, the photo,
one of countless others,

just became part of the official
documentation of our time down there.

Any sensitive information
became completely illegible.

Illegible in the '90s.

Yeah. Newly developed AI,

when applied to image deconvolution

can, essentially,
digitally refocus the lens.

So, what was unclear yesterday
is clear today.

Okay. Let's say
they have the formula now.

How hard is this stuff to make?

It's impossible
without the root biotoxin.

Abrin.

Seventy times more lethal than ricin.

It's hard to get
potent samples in America,

it's relatively common
in the Indonesian rainforests.

We derived it from a plant
called the rosary pea.

- Shit.
- What?

Lila has rosary peas.

I saw them.

My mother gave me
this bracelet when I was 16.

Two seeds in each box.

Me and her, always together.

If the formula was secret,
how did Lila and Amisha know

about the seeds before they got the photo?

We used Putra's soldiers to gather them,

so I guess they must have known
the seeds were somehow integral.

That was fucking stupid.

Shut up.

They were free labor.

So, they have the seeds.

What do they need to make the weapon?

Chemicals available at any supply shop.

But it's how we process them
with the seeds that makes it so lethal.

So, they could be making
this stuff right now?

They could have already made it.

Hey.

So, this is our helper?

They said you, uh, were
looking for somebody

to try some new kind of skag.

I-I'm down for that.

But I won't do any sex stuff.

No. No sex stuff.

Just the greatest high you'll ever know.

Sit.

You're gonna enjoy this.

What does it do?

It makes all your problems go away.

Toxins are extremely effective
when deployed against a single target.

You said that you were
researching weapons

that could be used in mass attacks.

No one's ever figured out
how to effectively deliver

chemical toxins over
a widespread outdoor area.

We did.

When aerosolized,
this stuff hangs in the air like a fog,

and it's light enough
to move on air currents.

So, it spreads quickly.

You send a suicide bomber with that stuff
strapped to him into Times Square,

you'll kill everyone
within a ten-block radius.

Most in seconds.

You said this whole project

was meant to keep shit like this
from happening.

We were trying to create
our worst-case scenario,

the thing we feared the most,

and then work backwards
to find a way to neutralize it.

So, there's an antidote?

We never got that far.

Project was scrapped when Putra somehow
found out what we were doing down there,

and he stole the weapon.

Slaughtered an entire village
because its leaders

allied with Putra's political enemies.

The U.S. covered it all up.

It was a bad look,
even if it wasn't our intention.

And now Lila and Amisha are
gonna sell it to God-knows-who.

Our goal was defense, it wasn't offense.

I was postgrad, man.
I was working off student loans.

You know, I was just
doing what I was told.

Yeah, doing what you were told.

You used the formula
to make yourself rich.

I modified it.

My pesticides are only deadly
on fucking bollworms.

I prevent famine.

You understand?

People eat because of me.

People died because of you...

you protecting your own ass
and your bank account.

What did we lose?

A government clerk?

A fucking football player?

A few mid-level CIA agents?

Saving the world comes with costs.

Okay,
what do we do with this asshole?

Even if we get the drive
from Lila and Amisha,

they can still track him down
and get the recipe from him.

I'm not gonna tell them anything.

I swear.

You spilled your guts
after a few broken fingers.

I've seen what these women do to people.

You'll talk.

Wait. Wait!

Wait, wait, w--

Jesus Christ, Reacher.

I'm the head of security for a man

who might be the next president
of the United States of America.

You can't do shit like that
in front of me.

Saving the world comes with costs.

I'm good with it.

Make enough to kill thousands.

Sorry. I'm sorry.

...find out as soon as you can.

Oh, shit.

♪ I was the third brother of five ♪

♪ doing whatever I had to do to survive ♪

♪ I'm not saying
what I did was all right ♪

♪ Trying to break out of the ghetto ♪

♪ was a day-to-day fight...

Jacob. What's going on with Plum?

Don't know.

The cops at the hospital ID'd me,
and I had to run.

Last time I saw him, he didn't look good.

Shit.

- You okay?
- Not really,

'cause I just found out
Lila's auctioning off the drive

on the dark web at 10:00 a.m. tomorrow.

How do you know that?

Plum put those feelers out
to his contacts on some message board

looking for info on the drive?

Well, I've got his phone, and one
of his journalist buddies got back to him.

This guy found an auction notice

on the dark web, and from the chatter
he picked up, it looks like

most of the world's leading scumbags
will be bidding.

So, any luck finding out
exactly what's for sale?

The formula for a chemical WMD.

Fuck.

Yeah, it's bad.

Might be worse than you think.

The auction notice mentions
a proof of concept demonstration.

And cops found chemistry supplies
in that old restaurant.

That makes sense.

You don't spend billions on a weapon
unless you know it'll deliver.

They must've already made the stuff
if they set the auction.

That's why they forced Anna
to delete the file after she stole it.

If there's only one copy of the formula,
that makes it even more valuable.

If the auction's tomorrow, they're gonna
kill people tonight to prove it works.

Aren't they cutting it close?

Can't they just delay the auction?

Not if some of the buyers
made it clear they don't want it delayed.

And the last thing Lila and Amisha
need right now is to look weak.

They promised a sale,
they'll deliver a sale.

They just didn't expect your sister
to fubar their whole operation.

Search online,
see if there's anything going on in Philly

that'll make a suitable target.

How do you know the attack will be here?

It's the sixth largest city in America.

They'll rack up a huge death toll.

And it's where they were gonna meet Anna.

They had the chemistry equipment

standing by.

It's much less risky
to make a weapon and use it locally

than it is to transport something
so deadly somewhere else.

Especially now that
the cops, us, the mercs

and the CIA are all looking for 'em.

They'll keep their exposure to a minimum.

They'll make it in Philly
and they'll set it off in Philly.

What the hell am I looking for?

Something outdoors that shows
how well the poison works in open air.

Citizens Bank Park?

No. I caught the last Phillies game
before a road trip.

The Chinese Lantern Festival
in Franklin Square.

I saw banners for that.

It's next weekend.
What about this?

"The Philadelphia Orchestra

Plays Movie Scores at the Mann Center."

Outdoor venue, seats 14,000.

Nothing else going on tonight.

- That's the one.
- I'll call it in.

We're wanted by the Feds and Philly PD.

Who's gonna believe us?

Docherty.

He had me in custody and he let me go.

Why the hell'd he do that?

Because of you.
He'll listen

if you call him, Tamara.

Also, I need you guys to come pick me up.

It's pretty chilly

for a summer night.

Looks like a storm's coming.

So, Amisha knew the whiteboard
formula was out of focus

because she took the photo?

- Right.
- And when technology advanced enough,

she realized that she could now
make the formula legible.

But the photo
was stored in the old files

at Delta Force HQ
in Fort Liberty, North Carolina.

Breaking in would be impossible.

But when Congress decides
to digitize old government files,

Amisha saw her chance.

They moved the files off base

to a government facility
that isn't as secure.

Amisha does her research,

figures out which clerk
has weaknesses they could exploit.

Like a single mom with a son.

A million things had to fall into place
for me to lose them.

And thank you
for coming out, Philadelphia.

Have a wonderful evening.

Oh, shit.

It's okay. It's Docherty.

Well, this was a fucking bust.

Cops and dogs
in every corner of this place.

They searched everyone who went in,
delayed the show,

pissed off the venue,
pissed off some city officials

who were here with their fucking families.

And you know how many
cubic tons of shit I had to eat

pretending that some hick cop
got the best of me?

Now I got half the department out here

on a goddamn snipe hunt.

I trusted you, and you fucked me.

- Wasn't intentional.
- Oh.

Like an accident?

Like what happened with that Ahlquist guy?

I saw the news, dickheads.

Ahlquist died in an accident
this afternoon.

Thrown from his car, broke his neck.

You have something to do with that?

I hit a deer.

Hey, did-did you

get in to see Plum?

He's still in surgery.
I'll check on my way home.

Look, why don't you guys get out of here
before somebody recognizes you?

Or maybe I'll point you out to them

after the bullshit you pulled here.

I don't get it.

This checked all the boxes.

Outdoors, huge crowd, in Philly.

- The fuck are we missing?
- We should go.

There's gonna be a ton of traffic
coming through here soon.

Wait.

Traffic.

They're gonna attack the highway.

Based on what?

Auction's at 10:00 a.m.

They aren't hitting here,
so what's their next best chance

at killing thousands outdoors?

Morning rush hour.

Bad traffic starts around 7:30.

Makes sense.

Get people bidding on their weapons
at the same time 24-hour news channels

are broadcasting live coverage
of the death they can cause.

But how do you attack a highway?

Retrofit a refrigerated truck
so the exhaust system

shoots toxins out the back.

Travels right into the vent system
of every car

packed in bumper-to-bumper for miles.

Rent a crop duster
and buzz the interstate.

What's around here? 95?

95, Roosevelt Boulevard, the Schuylkill.

Everything's jammed in the morning.

Every car will become a coffin.

Who's gonna listen to us?

We just used up our goodwill
with the only cop in the city who would,

and we can't shut down interstates
on our own.

We can't.

The federal government might be able to.

Hey, Nick, Colleen.

Thank you guys for being here.
We appreciate it.

Don.

- Hey, John, how are you?
- Get your checkbook out, buddy.

Good to see you.

Oh, fuck. Thank you for being here.

Congressman.

- Mike Dunston.
- Hey, Mr. Dunston.

Please. Mike.
I just wanted to introduce myself.

I had the winning bid
for the dinner with you.

Oh, thank you. Looking forward to it.

- And who do we have here?
- Oh, this is my son Kyle.

- Oh, nice to meet you, Kyle.
- Hello, sir.

Kyle, why don't you have a seat
over there for a few minutes?

I know we'll have time to talk at dinner,
but I just wanted to plant a seed.

I own HydroMade Power.

We build state-of-the-art
hydroelectric plants,

- and we have a new project--
- Yeah, I'm already aware of it.

Well, then you know
that it's good for the power grid

and good for the environment, too.

What I've seen looks promising,

but your donation to my wife's charity
won't affect my vote.

I just got to make sure we're
on the same page there, Mike.

Of course, of course, I just--

Sorry, Congressman.

It's the regulatory commission.
Can you believe that?

- Oh.
- I-I'll be right back.

Completely understand.

Can't believe your dad

bid on a dinner
with a boring old congressman

instead of those box seats.

Big Phillies fan?

Not really. Just never been
to a game with my dad.

Hmm. He doesn't like baseball?

He's always got work.

I know how he feels.

Sorry about that.

Say, Mike, got an idea.

How about you, me and Kyle
catch a ball game instead?

Right? Dinners can be boring,
and the Phillies

have that kid that can throw
at 105 miles an hour.

Some Texas Tommys, couple of beers,

and you and I can
even talk a little business.

Sound good?

Um, sounds great.

I'll have my office set it up.

Sorry, uh...

Just another minute.

Yeah?

I'll leave by the fourth inning.

You'll have him all to yourself.

Reacher.

Springfield told me
what happened in Delaware.

Can't say I approve of the way
you do business.

We have reason to believe the toxin
Ahlquist told us about

is gonna be used on a Philadelphia freeway

- during rush hour tomorrow morning.
- Based on what?

The women calling themselves
Lila and Amisha Hoth

have scheduled a dark web auction

of the chemical formula
at 10:00 a.m. local time.

And they want a successful strike
before then to drive bidding.

Shit. I'll call Homeland.

Let's do lunch
when I'm in Washington next week.

Sounds good.

Hey. Have you seen Springfield?

Yeah, he headed down
to the service entrance a few minutes ago.

Security there isn't answering
on the walkie, and he's pissed as hell.

What, no one from security?

Not at the service entrance.

Probably punched out early
just 'cause the dinner service is over.

That's not why they're not answering.

I need you to get back to the hotel.

- Why?
- I don't have time to explain.

Just go now.

- Yeah.
- They're not gonna hit

the freeways tomorrow.

They're hitting here, where I am, tonight.

Where are you?

Penn's Landing in Philadelphia.

Outdoor fundraiser, lots of people.

Not as many as they'd kill
during morning rush hour.

Why would they attack
a smaller charity event?

Because it's my wife's charity event.

They know I'll be here.

I didn't tell you this before,
'cause it wasn't relevant,

but when I said

Delta hunted down
and took out General Putra,

I was the one who pulled the trigger.

No!

The woman
calling herself Amisha saw me do it.

She idolized Putra.

If she needs to pick a place in Philly
to demonstrate her weapon,

why not an event
that also exacts some revenge?

Get paid, get payback.

It's a nice bonus for her.

No reason she wouldn't choose your event.

Penn's Landing's not far.

Hang on.

Hey, stay on the line.

Springfield.

Sir, we have a problem.

Let me guess.

Guard at the service entrance is dead.

Throat slit.

Fuck.

The shit's gonna break bad here soon.

Do you want me to send Elspeth home?

I already did.

Negative. She's approaching me right now.

Oh, damn it, Elly.

Look, get her out of here. I got to go.

Reacher,

we got a murdered security guard here.

This is happening now.

Evacuate the venue.

They see people running out,
they'll trigger the weapon early.

Right now they don't know we know.

Our best chance
is to neutralize the attack.

How? We don't even know
how they're gonna aerosol the toxin.

Yes, we do. Ahlquist already told us.

He said a suicide bomber
would take out Times Square.

Should be more than enough
for Penn's Landing.

Lila and Amisha aren't gonna
sacrifice themselves.

They're in this to get rich, not die.

But if they have terrorist contacts
to sell the weapons to,

maybe they got one of those groups
to loan 'em a zealot.

They get proof the toxin works
and credit for the attack.

When we got the jump drive
from my mailbox,

Plum said something about

Lila flying in someone
from the country of Djibouti.

Did you get a look at the guy?

No.

We don't need a photo.
Sampson, you were Delta.

Assume you know The List?

Of course I do.

Run it down.

Number one: inappropriate clothes.

Big, baggy, to hide explosives.

Number two: uneven movement

because of the weight of the device
or due to being drugged.

Number three: carrying a bag...

...a knapsack, briefcase.

Number four:

clenched fist
around the detonation device.

Run the light.

Number five:

nervous behavior, jumpy.

Number six:
mumbling to themselves,

possibly praying.

Number seven:

odd breathing patterns.

Number eight:

only looking straight ahead
so you don't have to see

who you're about to kill.

Number nine: intense focus.

Number ten: walking with directed purpose.

We're almost there.

You're gonna be too late.

Why?

'Cause I found him.

It's an honor to meet you.

We cannot thank you enough
for your selflessness

and will forever be in your debt.

Got to go, Reacher.

He hung up.

Hey. Hold on.

Main entrance.
Huge guy just tore through here.

Hey!

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♪ Black coat, white shoes ♪

♪ black hat, Cadillac, yeah ♪

♪ The boy's a time bomb ♪

♪ Black coat, white shoes,
black hat, Cadillac, yeah ♪

♪ The boy's a time bomb ♪

♪ Well, he's back in the hole
where they got him livin' like a rat ♪

♪ But he's smarter than that,
nine lives like a cat ♪

♪ Fifteen years old,
take him to the youth authority home ♪

♪ First thing you learn,
you gotta make it in this world alone ♪

♪ Black coat, white shoes,
black hat, Cadillac, yeah ♪

♪ The boy's a time bomb ♪

♪ Black coat, white shoes,
black hat, Cadillac, yeah ♪

♪ The boy's a time bomb ♪

♪ Now he's gotten out, he got free,
he got a coat, got a car ♪

♪ He's 21 years old,
he's runnin' numbers from the bar ♪

♪ His pager's beepin',
he's gettin' deep in ♪

♪ whatever he can move on in,
you know that kid's a-creepin' ♪

♪ Black coat, white shoes,
black hat, Cadillac, yeah ♪

♪ The boy's a time bomb ♪

♪ Black coat, white shoes,
black hat, Cadillac ♪

♪ The boy's a time bomb ♪

♪ Yeah, the boy's a time bomb ♪

♪ Yeah ♪

♪ Tears come from the razor
that's been tattooed below his eye ♪

♪ His mother cries, she knows
that he is strong enough to die ♪

♪ He's rollin' in the Cadillac,
it's midnight, sunroof is down ♪

♪ Three shots rang out, the hero's dead,
the new king is crowned ♪

♪ Black coat, white shoes,
black hat, Cadillac ♪

♪ Yeah, the boy's a time bomb ♪

♪ Black coat, white shoes,
black hat, Cadillac ♪

♪ Yeah, the boy's a time bomb ♪

♪ Oh, time bomb ♪