Original subtitles

(theme music playing)

NARRATOR: Man lives in the sunlit world

of what he believes to be reality.

But... there is,

unseen by most, an underworld.

A place that is just as real

but not as brightly lit.

A dark side.

Hey?

Put that thing out.

What? Oh.

Sorry, Mr. Harte.

I hope we're not in for another disappointment, Jimmy.

Not this time.

They found a certified 16th-century monastery,

or brotherhood, or whatever you call them, under that church.

We got the real thing here.

Well, it'd better be.

It cost me enough.

You got to expect to pay when you get in on a setup

as clean as this.

It was beautiful.

We had one of the excavators under contract.

So, anytime he figures he's holding a good piece,

he just stashes it away where he can pick it up

when nobody... Why are you telling me this?

I figured you'd be interested.

I mean, I...

I'm not interested in any information

that's gonna send me to prison, Jimmy.

I'm strictly a bottom-line type person.

I don't want to know how that crate got into my living room.

I just want to know what it's worth.

It's worth plenty.

(car horns honking outside)

(laughs)

Looks like we got some shoes this time.

Guess they had some pretty heavy-duty ladies

back in that 16th century, huh, Mr. Harte?

Do you mind?

Put the garbage in here.

Okay, okay.

Now we're getting somewhere.

This is a common beggar's bowl.

19th century, at best.

It's worthless, at least to my kind of clients.

All right.

Then look...

Then look at that, huh?

What is this, a joke?

It's not worth anything?

You know, all this junk might be a lot of fun,

except I just plunked down 20 grand

for this Cracker Jacks box.

I can't seem to find my free toy.

Now you're gonna have to give me my money back.

Hey, they told me

this was good stuff.

Can't believe everything you hear.

Can you, sport?

I can't give you your money back.

I spent it on this.

An art fence is supposed to deliver art, Jimmy.

Wait a minute, will you?

We're not finished yet, huh?

So, that's $20,000 up front,

minus postage,

of course.

You owe me 19,854 bucks, pal.

There's something funny about this crate.

Look.

Huh?

Now look at the floor.

You may be right.

That seems high.

Let's see what we have here.

(knocking on box)

There's a false bottom.

(boards clattering)

And there's something inside.

Any better, Mr. Harte?

Is it good?

Good?

This might be the most valuable piece I've ever handled.

So, you like it?

Look at this.

It's even inscribed.

Add another 50% to the selling price.

Can I see it?

The backing is very dry.

It's very old.

What is this?

Tempera.

It's excellent.

Faithful observation to detail.

Right down to the bowl in the beggar's hands.

It's definitely 16th century.

Really know your stuff, don't you?

It's a primitive, Jimmy, but valuable.

Wow.

Your friends didn't know what they were sending.

Then how come the hiding place?

Who cares?

It's all mine now.

I wish I could read this.

"Ardescit in foco..."

Look, I've got a case of Dom P�rignon in the refrigerator.

What do you say we celebrate?

You bet.

"Ferrum monibus tuis propinquum."

Something about a fire.

To money in the bank.

Now,

who do I unload this little beauty on?

Mr. Gerber's always game.

I've been thinking, Mr. Harte.

Is that a fact?

Seeing as how things turned out so...

unexpectedly well,

it doesn't seem fair to stick to the original terms.

So you're getting greedy, huh?

I'm just trying to be reasonable.

You can be as reasonable as you want.

I'm just asking you to be fair with me.

Why?

Because it's the decent thing to do.

Because it's... Look, let me

tell you something about the art business, okay?

Because I feel for you, Jimmy.

I really do.

It wasn't so long ago

that I was a messenger boy for an art dealer.

So I understand what you're trying to pull here.

And I respect it.

But your problem right now is that you're still a peon...

...trying to cut a deal with a prince.

I found that stuff for you.

I brought it here.

You were paid.

Three grand?

That's my cut. That's right.

Because as long as you're letting other people

deal the cards to you, you're going to be coming up short.

I was in the exact same position myself.

Then I caught an art dealer in a bad spot,

and I didn't let go of the poor guy

until I had what he had.

You blackmailed somebody?

No. I beat him, Jimmy.

I beat him.

The same way I'm beating you right now.

As long as I'm holding the cards,

you don't have a prayer.

We'll just see how much longer

you're holding those cards, Harte.

What goes around comes around, pal.

You wait and see.

(wind howling, wind chimes jingling)

(wind howling, wind chimes jingling)

MALE VOICE: The spit is already heating in the fire

close to your hands.

Who's there?

(gasps)

What do you want?

The words on the back of the mortification.

You wanted to know what they mean.

Put that down!

What are you doing here?

Get out before I call the police.

You won't do that.

You're a thief, and thieves are afraid of the police.

Put that down.

This picture is very precious.

I know that.

Do you?

I'm sure you know how much it's worth to your customers,

but are you aware of its real value?

I know what the thing is worth.

Now give it to me.

You are undoubtedly a clever man, Mr. Harte,

but sometimes clever people seize on the immediate things,

and miss out on the larger, more important truth.

This, for instance, may be

only a common beggar's bowl to you,

but to others, it is

the cup of St. Bartholomew, Mr. Harte.

(scoffs)

You sell any art?

Clever man.

Making fun in order that you will not learn.

Listen, mister...

I'm talking to you about a holy man.

One who gave up great wealth

in order to walk with those who had nothing.

With this, his sacred bowl,

he fed the needy.

And even though he himself was without money,

this bowl was always full.

So, a miracle, huh?

That's right.

Like that bowl popping up in your hands.

St. Bartholomew was no mere conjurer.

He was a man who gave his life

in the cause of others.

When he died, this bowl was passed

from generation to generation,

until it came to Spain.

That's where you found it, Mr. Harte,

you and your little army of thieves.

I am a dealer of art.

You are a thief,

one who had better soon learn the error of his ways.

My only error is listening to this crap.

There is so little time, Mr. Harte.

Time for what?

What is it that you want from me?

Return these things you have stolen.

I would not return the sketch if my life depended on it.

Look at it.

How can you live among these great works

and not be touched by them?

Art exists to enrich the soul.

Come off it, mister.

You buy a Mercedes, you buy a Matisse.

It all comes down to the same thing, and that's status,

and the man with the money wins the prize.

Look at the picture.

Bartholomew's cup is extended to the heretic.

Drink from it, confess, and repent.

I spent 15 years of my life in parochial school on my knees,

begging for forgiveness,

and all anyone ever told me there was how bad I stink,

so don't think that you're telling me anything new.

I implore you.

Well, this is what I think of St. Bartholomew

and his lousy bowl.

(thud)

Ardescit in foco ferrum...

monibus tuis propinquum.

(distant crow cawing)

(man screaming in distance)

What is this?

Where am I?

The court of inquisition.

You have been brought before me, accused of grave crimes.

I will hear them to determine

your chastisement.

This is a dream.

This has got to be a dream.

Here you may speak only when I give my permission.

What are the charges?

My Lord, he has induced others to steal for him

treasures of the church and state.

He has sold these treasures

to enrich himself.

What is this-- some kind of sick fantasy?

Now, you listen to me, mist...

(grunts) (groans)

(anguished cry)

Fascinating quality of the human will is

how swiftly it responds to pain inflicted upon the flesh.

You will remember to keep silent.

What more?

He confesses his deeds, but not his guilt.

Believing in nothing but his own profit,

he sees no wrong in what he does.

He is a heretic.

I will give you one opportunity only

to confess and repent.

What do you say to these charges?

I don't know who you are, but you won't get away with this.

It is you... who cannot escape.

In this place, your body will suffer

for the sins of your soul, unless...

(man screaming in distance)

...until you make confession.

(whip cracks in distance)

(grunts)

This is insane!

(grunts) No!

(grunts)

What are you doing?

Please, please stop him!

(clicking)

(gears grinding)

(gears squeaking)

Confess... to your guilt.

Oh...

Oh, my God.

Don't blaspheme.

Humble yourself.

Admit your sins,

and I will stop the pain.

Water, please.

Speak...

before it's too late.

(panting and groaning)

It's all true, all of it.

(panting)

Tell me.

I am eager to hear.

Everything you said.

I bought things stolen from churches.

I s-- I sold them.

I never understood any of it.

I only did it for the money.

Do you swear on your immortal soul, on pain of death,

that you'll abandon these evil practices?

(gears grinding and squeaking)

Oh, God.

Yes, I do.

I'm sorry for everything.

Just let me go, I'll return it all,

I swear.

Then I am done with you.

(gears grinding and squeaking)

(panting)

(thud)

Hello, is Mr. Gerber there?

Wh-Wh-When will he be back?

Yes, it's very important.

A piece of 16th-century art has come into my possession.

It's very rare,

very special, and I'm putting it up for private sale.

Two weeks?

Look, I can't possibly wait that long.

No, don't bother.

(slams phone down)

(fire crackling)

�

Hello, Jimmy, I am prepared to sell you the sketch.

$10,000?

Jimmy, that's less than what I...

(wry chuckle)

W-Well, I guess you saw me coming, huh, sport?

Yeah.

Yeah, you read me like a book.

All right, $10,000 in cash...

but it's got to be right now, Jimmy.

I mean right now.

(door unlocking)

(door unlatching) Jimmy?

(distant crow cawing)

No, get away from me.

An insincere confession merits

the extreme penalty.

I'm giving it all back...

all of it.

Please.

(wind howling, wind chimes jingling)

Please, come on.

I'm just asking you to be fair with me.

Mr. Harte?

Mr. Harte?

All right.

(chuckles)

Talked him down to ten, and now it's mine for nothing.

NARRATOR: The dark side is always there.

Waiting for us to enter.

Waiting to enter us.

Until next time, try to enjoy the daylight.