All language subtitles for The.Crack.Inception.2019.eng

-I'm out this round.
-Me too.

-I'm in.
-Me too.

-Need another card?
-No.

-Put me down for one.
-Down for one.

-I'll start off low.
-Pass.

Me too.

I'll take my chances.
I've got to win sometime.

It's up to you.

-I'm in with doubles.
-No.

-No.
-In. You really have the cards?

Unbelievable ones.

-Five.
-Make that ten.

-Very well, Germán.
-Look here, missy...

I'm the one with the cards.
I know what I'm doing.

You never know.
He might me bluffing.

Trust me, they don't.
They only have pairs.

I'm all in.

-I'm in.
-Show us what you've got.

-Aces and sevens.
-Son of a bitch!

Don't say I didn't warn you.

No complaining.

-Good evening.
-Evening. What can I get you?

I'll have a beer and get her a juice
or soda, whatever the hell you want.

Make that the last time you make me
look like a fool. You asshole!

I didn't do it!

I don't want to hear it!
Next time you can shut your ass up!

Get her a fucking soda.

-Where the hell are you going?
-To the bathroom.

Make it quick.
We don't have all night. Go on!

-Let's think this through.
-Oh, sure.

-I'm all in.
-Full house?

No, none of that.
I'm in.

-I'm not.
-Four points for you.

-Starting low.
-Pass.

-Pass.
-Me too.

-I've got pairs.
-No.

You in for pairs?

-I didn't tell your brother!
-I said shut up!

Will you excuse me a minute?

-Did you fuck him?
-No! I didn't screw my boss!

What the hell are you doing
in the woman's toilet? Get out!

I said leave!

Well...

I'm in the middle of
a card game with friends.

It's a tight game. I might just win.

And I don't like being distracted.

Can you believe this guy?

-Please, Juan.
-Shut up!

Listen, you little prick. Get out
before I smack your mustache.

Go it?

-Leave her alone.
-Are you deaf?

I've got him! Hit him, Juan!

...we are waiting for more information.

They believe that between Sunday
and Wednesday afternoon

they have had time
to spare to get them.

That is as of today.
Order and reason says so...

I've got pairs.

Are you in?

All in.

THE CRACK: INCEPTION

FRANCO IN FOR SECOND SURGERY

Moor.

Remember me?

Areta.

Germán Areta.

COMPANY'S DIRECTORY
ARETA'S PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR

-Good morning. How are you today?
-Morning, Germán.

-Good morning.
-Good morning.

-Good morning.
-Good morning.

-Morning, Moli.
-Good morning, boss.

-Is it raining?
-First few drops.

She's here.

By the way, your forgot
to turn off the light again.

Tell Rocky
that I don't get free electricity.

Make him shave in the dark!

-Wasn't the appointment at 9:30?
-Yeah, but she is 15 minutes early.

-Want a coffee, boss?
-Yes, please.

And please don't call me "boss".

Name of a palace and town
in the north of Spain. Five letters?

Ayete.

Good morning.

Good morning.

-My name is Germán Areta.
-Remedios Hernández.

Pleasure. Take a seat.

Would you like something to drink?
Coffee? Tea?

No, thank you.
Your secretary offered me one already.

Coco Chanel.

Excuse me?

Your perfume. I like it.

Who recommended me to you?

A friend who reported her husband
missing and you found him immediately.

I remember.

I then had to go looking for your
friend because she never paid.

I'm kidding.

-What can I do for you?
-I'd like you to investigate a murder.

The police department has forbidden us
from investigating any crime scenes.

I know, but the police
has determined it was a suicide

and, therefore, there's no crime.

I'm smoking more than I should already.

You see...

His name was Narciso Benavides. He
owned a tailor shop in the city center.

They found him dead
in the República Argentina square,

in front of the big restaurant there.
The morning of June eighth.

After three months
of police investigation,

they determined he had killed himself.
Case closed.

How are you related to the deceased?

We had an affair.

I'm married, so I would beg you
to be as discreet as possible.

Thank you, Moli.

What makes you think
it wasn't suicide?

Narciso was full of life,
a man who enjoyed living well.

He loved to eat,
drink, dance... to fuck.

He also loved to gamble.

He always had some type of debt.

He asked everyone for money,
even from me.

That was the main clue
for the police.

They think that after losing
a great deal of money,

he decided to end it all
with a shot to his head.

The funny thing about that,

on the night he was killed
he had won half a million.

He called me in the middle
of the night to tell me.

Where was your husband?

He has night shifts.

Let me show you something.

A life insurance
worth ten million pesetas.

And you as the beneficiary.

He always had money problems,
even if business went well.

He asked for money from his customers,
his friends and from me.

But, instead of giving the money back,

he took out insurance policies
for his creditors.

He had this crazy idea that,
if he died,

we would all hit the jackpot
and have a big party in his honor.

-Weird behavior, don't you think?
-Of course.

The woman in charge of that tailor shop
Luisa del Olmo, she got a big part.

Do you know if the other policies

also have a one-year clause
excluding suicide like this?

I guess so.
He made mine a year and a half ago.

Well, if they indeed used
suicide to cover up the murder,

the clause would point as suspects

all the beneficiaries who were assigned
more than 12 months ago.

-Like me.
-Like you.

What happens if,
your friend decided to...

just drop everything?

You lose a couple of days
and I lose some money. Fees included.

I always pay my debts on time,
unlike my friend.

Right.

The thing is, I'm the weird type

who doesn't like to waste time
nor my clients to waste their money.

So, you won't take the job?

I thought private detectives
were extremely curious people.

I see you don't have an umbrella

and they are saying
it's going to rain all day.

Yeah. I should have picked
one up on my way out.

-Moli.
-Yes?

I need you to call Majerit Insurance
and other popular companies.

Use our contacts if you need to.

Ask them for a list of insurance
policies taken out by...

What was his full name?

Narciso Benavides Zamora.

-Narciso Benavides Zamora. Got it?
-Got it.

If anyone gives you any trouble,
just let me know.

And get Ms. Hernández
an umbrella before she leaves.

Thank you.

What now?
Are you going to claim it?

If I take out the money
I would have to leave my husband.

I'm thinking about it.

Here is your coffee, sir.

Thank you, Vicente.

Jesus!
I can't stop watching you eat.

A dish fit for the gods.
You know I can eat for days.

And this wine is out of this world!

-Vicente! Get me a coffee.
-Listen...

With milk!
And something to go with it.

Moor!

I guess you heard about my new bureau.

I heard you left the force
and went out like Robert Mitchum.

I need someone I know well
to give me a hand.

-Someone who knows his way around.
-That's me.

I'm an expert on drug lords, perverts,
and all types of bad stuff.

Listen up. I don't want you
selling anything on the streets,

no more car stealing or pickpocketing
from anyone you see on the subway.

None of that dirty business.

-That's not me anymore!
-Oh, really?

-I'm done with that. "Finito".
-Good for you.

There's more. I want you
in the office at 9 am sharp,

and ending whenever you are done.

That ugly earring must go.

Get a haircut.
I want you showered and shaved.

Anything you say, master.
Don't think I'm a hobo.

Use this to pay your rent,

pay what you owe to the Lorenzo
brothers, who are looking for you,

and buy yourself some clothes.

Thanks, master.

A man without money
is just another servant.

-And don't call me master.
-Yes, master.

BENAVIDES' TAILOR SHOP

-Good afternoon.
-Good afternoon.

-My name is Germán Areta.
-A pleasure.

You're not a police officer?

No. As I said over the phone,
I'm a private investigator.

What does that mean?
Nothing you do is official?

That's right.

I don't have to report where or how
I get the information I find.

I'm just saying because
I was already questioned by the police

when Mr. Benavides died.

It's not an interrogation.

Come in.

Thank you.

Let me turn on the lights.

So, how is the tailoring shop doing?
Smoke?

No, thank you.

-Do you mind if I do?
-Not at all.

What do you mean?

I'm just wondering if
you have received any claims.

There are plenty of valuable objects:
fabrics, furniture, manikins...

Mr. Benavide's only living relative

is a cousin he had in the north
and he hasn't claimed anything.

What did you do here, specifically?

Specifically, I was the manager.

But I helped out
with the manufacturing area

and acted as Mr. Benavides's secretary.

I used to answer calls and arranged
meeting with his customers.

I also was in charge of the cashier.

The soul of the whole place.

Mr. Benavides was an excellent tailor.

He used to say "The trick
is in the cut of the suits".

He used to make
each suit with his own hands.

A year did not go by without him going
at least once or twice to London

where he could breathe in Savile Row,
as he liked to say...

You know,
the holy grail for tailors.

I accompanied him a couple of times.

What perfume do you use?

Why do you ask?

It smells very nice
and I noticed it right away...

Coco Chanel?

Yes!

It was a birthday present
from Mr. Benavides.

Let me ask you this.

Prior to Mr. Benavides's passing,

did he look nervous or worried,
anything pointing towards suicide?

No. Not at all.

Mr. Benavides was always
in a good mood.

He was fun.
Always telling jokes.

I don't know how, but
when he entered a room,

everyone would be laughing
after a few minutes...

I was crazy about him.

Obvious, right?

What is your theory on what happened?

It's pretty clear to see.
Someone killed him.

If not, you wouldn't be here.

By the way,

who has asked you
to investigate the case?

Sorry. Confidential.

I see.

If you tell me who sent you,

I might tell you something
I didn't tell the police

when they took me in for questioning.

-Good afternoon.
-Good afternoon.

I'm taking that one.

-Good afternoon.
-Good afternoon.

Excuse me, Miss.
I have a simple question.

Am I too old to change my cologne?

Why is that?

I'm getting bored of using
the same old wooden scents,

and the sweet
and bold colognes, you know.

I've even tried children's scents.
Even the one for newborns.

It's never too late to change.
That goes for everything.

I completely agree with you, Miss...?

Adela...

Adela. I'm Germán.

What are you looking for, Germán?

A young and fresh cologne, maybe?

I'm looking for a change,
Miss Adela, not a miracle.

I know I'm not going to be
any younger with a new cologne.

I would like something for
an adult man in his early 40s,

but something different.

So, forty? I wouldn't have bet on it.

Thank you.

I have just the one.

Let it breathe for a few
seconds and then take a sniff.

It has wooden and dry tones,

but the core is sweet,
with a slight fresh breeze.

It's that mixture
that makes it so interesting.

I really like it.

If I don't get a girl
by this time tomorrow,

be sure you'll get an ear full.

What brand is it?

"Investigating Scent".

That painting is new, right?

It's my father-in-law's.
Like it?

How old is Manolo now?

Ninety,

but he still paints every single day.

Not bad.

"The writer and his muses".
That's the name.

The last great cubist,
or so say the critics.

I like it.

Here.

I won't take any calls for a while.

Take a seat, little fly.

Another cup of coffee?

No.

By the way,

no one calls me "little fly" anymore.

-Really?
-Really.

It's Areta.

Just Areta.

You will always be
"little fly" to me.

I guess, old man, you didn't call me
to tell me you retired

or that you are taking off
to your country house with your wife

and live "happily ever after".

No, "little fly". Not at all.

Now that you mention retirement,
how is Moli doing?

What a woman.
She will never retire.

Like you.

That's true.

I am never going to retire,
but they will make me.

Everywhere I go,
people are younger than me,

like 10 or 20 years younger.

So... Tell me.

Miss the mother ship?

Not at all.

Things have changed
a lot since you left.

-For the worse?
-Different. That is all.

There are more "consulting" cops,
as they call themselves,

rather than "street smart" cops.

The smart ones, as I say,
don't know how to act.

They do know how to give orders.

Sitting there and staring
at the ceiling.

But they don't dare
to patrol the streets.

Now, let me tell you...

When the big boss
at the top is gone...

I suppose you heard
he's at heaven's doors.

No one believes
it's just a case of the flu.

What will change then
is the entire country.

Turn it upside down.

Old man, I am not sure
I understand what you mean.

Why did you call me in today?

Remember who gave you
your nickname?

Luengo, known as "Beef".

That's right! It was Luengo, the Beef.

He said you could stand
next to a suspect

without him even noticing you,

like a little fly.

They would never know
until you buzzed in their ear.

Until you arrested them.

You see, little fly,

I've called you for three reasons:

first, I wanted to see
how you were doing.

Thank you.

Second, our friend "Beef" asked me

to tell you that he has
a job for you...

Well, your agency.

He's swimming in money now.

He's a Director at IMI,
International...

International Market Invest.

Something like that.

I still don't get it.

I always thought
Luengo was a low-class show-off.

Truth is... he could pull anything off.

You should go see him.

You have nothing to lose. You might
even get some money out of it.

And the third?

The third is a favor
I've got to ask from you.

I need you to go see a guy who wants
to start boxing professionally.

You can take those friends of yours
who are experts in the art.

Well...

I thought you called me in
to finally settle our issue.

I'll keep you updated about the boxer.

I'm sorry to have called
this way and so early...

It's not a problem.
Early morning works well for me.

My husband is sleeping.

What does your husband do for a living?

He's a journalist.

A famous one?

He thinks so.

What are you looking at?

Do you always dress this well
so early in the morning?

Of course. I never leave
the house without looking sharp.

Women need to be invaluable at
all times of the day.

Don't you think?

Tell me more about the secret games
Narciso attended.

They used to be in a big house
up town in El Viso.

I think it was Sil street.

From what Narciso told me,
the owner was an old Madame,

who used to be the lover
of one of Franco's closest friends,

who already passed away.

That's funny.

Why is that funny?

Because the area is close
to where he killed himself.

Or where you think
they got rid of him.

Do you think the killer could be
one of the men playing with him?

We can't rule anything out.

Right.

So, what's next?

Do you know what you'll do?

The insurance?

Take the money.

What about your husband?

Don't care.

So, before the swop you were a cop.

Hey, that rhymed!

I was in the Special Forces.

That's where you met Germán, right?

I had met Germán before that,
when I was in Law School.

I was a close friend
of his father.

He was the Chief of Homicide.

Don't tell me the master
is also a mouthpiece.

No, he never got his degree.

He dropped out the last year
and became a police officer.

First one in his class.

When Germán quit being a copper,
you followed him, right?

You could say that.

Areta's office speaking.

Moli, give "Beef" a call
and ask when he wants us to meet.

If Meri calls,
tell him that I am on it.

OK.

Luisa del Olmo called.
The one from the tailor shop.

OK, thank you. Bye.

Hey, Moli,

when do you think
I could get my fire arm license?

Well... somewhere
between impossible and never.

Did you know that I'm the king
of crossword puzzles?

Really?
"Resourceful. Three letters".

"Apt". Let me tell you.

True success isn't being on TV,

it's being in a crossword puzzle.

"A bright orange-red color.
Seven letters".

Give me a kiss and I'll tell you.

All right.

Na-ca-rat.

The King.

Areta, little fly!

Luengo... Beef!

It's been a while.

Forever ago!

Buddy, you haven't aged a day.

You age like good wine.

Look at you! You look so fit!

That's nonsense.
Just another average Joe, as they say.

You do look good.

Are you still eating
steak as raw as they come?

No other way.

And with slim and soggy fries.

Listen,

have you heard that Franco
hit the boot,

but that they are waiting
for the right time to drop the bomb?

No idea.

So...

What are they saying about us?
What is the word on the street?

People just want to watch TV.

You? What have you heard?

That you have the best
IT support teams...

That you are unstoppable.

Well, investigating is like politics:

whoever is not with you

is against you.

Would you like a drink?

No.

Of course! That's right!

Areta would never
have a drink on the job.

But, you aren't on duty now.

You are talking to a friend.

Thank you.

What else do you know?

That you are good with cases
of frauds, defending licenses

and filing.

You have excellent filing skills
for your enemies.

-Whose enemies?
-Whoever pays you.

Information based on facts,
vague truth and lies when needed.

Which are always needed.

The way it has always been.

Going to the secret sources
to screw anyone over.

That's right.

"Industrial spying".

You know that.
In the academy they taught us

about the balance of powers
and all that shit.

We always had to kiss the ass
of whoever was in charge.

Money and blackmail.

I don't think we ever had that lesson.

Shit!

Here I was, thinking you had
lost touch of it all!

You know more than you say.

Go on! Just tell me already.

Listen, Germán.

I'm going to give you
an important case.

Your agency can charge
whatever you think is fair.

Just like that.

You set the price.

Alright?

You know what, Luengo?

You still have that money-hungry tone,
just like that Fitzgerald guy.

Fitzgerald?

The drunk who wrote the reports for us
from the American embassy?

No. The Fitzgerald I'm talking about
also was a drunk, and was American,

and wrote...

but not reports.

Or maybe.

You're such a jerk!

Can it get better than this?

Romance and pasta!

Although I would have you
as a tin can meal kind of guy.

Truth is I have never found pleasure
in eating, or cooking, or groceries.

I know it's bad.

I've spent more time
eating in restaurants and bars,

eating at strange hours
and in a rush.

Nonetheless...
I do make excellent cocktails.

I need to say something
now that I'm a little tipsy.

What are you laughing at?

Because I'm guessing
you are going to tell me something

that makes me have
to tell you something else.

Raúl...

We were about to get married,
after four years as a couple.

I had just received my degree
in Spanish Philology

with one thousand honor degrees,
me being the smart girl I am.

He was a doctor.

Neurologist. A good one at that.

They always wanted him
at conferences and congresses.

We had given a deposit
for our first apartment in Oviedo,

in a lovely area of the city.

All we had to do
was to set a wedding date.

And?

He got my best friend pregnant...

Sometimes...

you get caught
in the middle of the storm,

right under lighting,
pouring rain, thunder...

You might think
it may never stop...

Until the storm withers away
and the sun comes out.

The strange thing is...

that you can feel sad,

frustrated, but not like a failure.

Is it my turn?

I lived with the wrong person.
Not here. In her apartment.

She was... is a wealthy woman

whose family was in banking.

A lawyer. We met in college.

Nuria.

It was going well...
As it always does in the beginning.

But then, she couldn't stand me
being a police officer.

She wanted me to quit

and work with her
in her father's consulting company.

You know...

I love that you are like that.

Like what?

So shy and reserved,

except with me every now and then.

I love the way you look at me.

You're way tipsier than you think.

And I like your face.

My face isn't like me at all.

That's what you think.

Hey, Rocky, does the name
Narciso Benavides ring a bell?

The tailor that
killed himself some months ago.

-He shot himself.
-Yes.

Yeah. His barber was
in the Castellana Hilton.

A very fancy and expensive place.

A friend of mine used
to work there. Thyme.

Well, his name was Romero,
but he called him "Thyme".

Did your friend Thyme
ever mention this Narciso guy?

He said he was
very uptight and demanding.

He was full of himself.

People said he was one of
the best tailors in the city.

Thyme also told me that
he always had a trick up his sleeve.

And that he was quite the womanizer.

He said he was into gambling,
poker and roulettes.

He would bet all his money.

He was the type who, on a rainy day,
he would stand outside

waiting for anyone to bet
on the first raindrop.

Are you investigating him?

-Good morning, Deogracias.
-Morning.

-Morning.
-Morning.

Anyway...

Let's get back to Marciano
and Carmine Vingo.

It's a cold night in December.
The night before Christmas Eve,

Rocky had won with a knock out.
Sixth round.

Vingo was half dead on the floor.
They took him to the hospital.

They even brought in a priest.
That's how bad it was.

Rocky did not leave his side.

Praying in the hallways.

Vingo survived.

But never fought again.

And get this. Rocky did not go back
to the fighting ring until Vingo...

Good morning, Rocky!

Well, hello there!

-Good morning, master.
-You're late! Again.

-By only five minutes!
-I don't care if it's five or three!

Jeez, someone is in a bad mood.

It's impossible
to get you out of bed.

My bed?

You should have seen this chick,
Rocky...

Her boobs were so big,
that she left a dent in the bed.

And get this.

Her ass is so big,
I could spread butter with a paddle.

That's enough guys.
Rocky, we will talk tomorrow.

-See you tomorrow.
-See you.

Close the door and sit down.

-See you tomorrow, Moli.
-Bye.

You're coming with me today.

It's about time!

I need you to be awake.

-Yes, Moli.
-Remedios Hernández.

I've told her you may be busy.

Yes, don't worry. Put me through.

Good morning, Germán.

I'm sorry to bother you.
I know you are very busy.

Good morning, Remedios.
What can I do for you?

I want you to work
exclusively on this job.

I will pay double if need be...

You don't need to worry about that now.

I'm so sorry about this,
but he is all I think about.

He would always wear summer clothes.

No matter the season we were in.

He was a little like summer:

warm, sexy, exciting...

He only carried bills.

None of that credit card shit.

Just bills in his pocket
held by a metallic clip...

People said he was
a storyteller, a liar...

They can say what they want.

Towards the end...

Go on.

He grew tired of me.

Some can't be faithful
to their partners,

but are loyal until they die...

I get it...
I'm a fool for love too.

Maybe it has never happened to you,
but then you meet someone you like...

you like their eyes,
their smell, their smile...

There's an invisible magnet
that pulls you in to them.

It happens at different points of life.

It has nothing to do with being
faithful, don't you think?

It's not my place to judge, but...

I believe when someone says
they are not faithful, but are loyal,

it's just the perfect alibi
to hide their infidelity.

Don't worry about it. Understood?

I'll give you any updates.

Thank you.

As I was saying, Moor.

Keep your eyes wide open.
Pay attention to everything you hear.

Yes, master.
I'll be your eyes and ears.

Keep this in mind:

when you are asking around
about someone who died,

the important thing
is not what they say,

but what they hold back.

FENCING CLUB

Hey! Come on over here, guys!

Here you go.

Take a seat.

Thank you for meeting with us.

We won't take up
much of your time.

Do I look like someone
who can't lose time?

What was your name again?

Areta.

So, what is it you want
to know about my tailor?

First off, Johnny. I have to say...

I'm a big fan.

That's why I don't understand
why you would be Benavides's customer.

C'mon, Johnny.

You don't look like the typical
tailoring type of guy.

Rock stars are modern.

I can be talking too much, but...

I don't see you wearing
one of those Prince Charles suits,

or a double breasted or lounge suit.
You are just Rock and Roll.

You're completely right.

I hate... absolutely hate
wearing a suit.

So, why the tailor?

My stylist from the record label
forces me... OK, not force,

but recommends it.
No one can force me anything.

He thinks that wearing something new,
a new look can sell.

It's not like you look like
a detective either.

-Don't I?
-Not at all.

Your face doesn't help either.

Did your stylist take you
to Benavides's shop?

No clue. I don't remember.

Look, man. I'm a big star.

A celebrity since I was 19 years old.

I've had four or five stylists.

I've been with
three different record labels...

-I don't remember.
-But you kept Benavides around.

Sure. Yes, I did.
Benavides was a standup guy,

as people usually say.

He was a nice and fun guy.

He liked chicks, like me.

Whenever he made
a new suit or jacket,

he would bring a bottle of Vodka

and I would bring some hash...
We would have some laughs.

It was fucking awesome.

By the way, did you know
I was meant to be a Crooner?

Oh, really?

One of the good ones,
like they were years ago.

like Sinatra, Tony Bennet, Crosby...

No fucking way! What happened?

What happened was that a scout
made me sing a Rock song and...

Boom!

My life changed.

I went from writing lovey-dovey songs,

sunsets in the beach,

"I love you" and "Oh, baby doll"
to singing with swear words

I'm not just a senseless singer.

No.

I'm a creator.

A writer.

Thousands of fans, who adored me,
turned into millions.

Especially when I become
the bad boy, like Jagger.

That's right, dude.
It's the best part, Johnny.

My favorite song
is the one that goes like...

"Lucifer, help us out."

Yeah! That one is the shit!

Besides the Vodka and hash,

did you share anything else?

I mean, everyone knows!

Our love for poker!

I actually am...
or was better than Benavides.

I have self-control and he didn't.
Benavides was pretty hip,

young, a cool dude,
with his old fashion ways.

He was a real chick magnet too.

Do you know what it's like to be me?

Not a clue, right?

I can't walk in the streets,
not only in Madrid or Barcelona,

But, not in Mexico, Rio,

Buenos Aires, Miami... Moscow!

I'm super famous in Moscow!

I'm bigger than Raphael!

Anything else?

Yes.

Why did you lend him money?

One, I do whatever the fuck I want.

Two, because I liked him.
I told you.

Three, I have more money
than you think.

Lastly, he made an insurance policy
or some shit like that.

And it looks like I'm going
to get the money.

Jeez, Johnny, you don't look very sad
about him taking his own life.

C'mon, guys.
Don't go all "bad cop" on me.

No.

I haven't shed a tear
in my whole fucking life,

not even when my girl
passed away from an overdose...

that dumbass.

Well, you have met
my new girl around here.

She's smoking hot.

Much less for Benavides, Christ!

It would be ridiculous
for me to kill him to get...

What? Seven million?

I get two million for a single concert.

Just this summer I had 47.

Do you need a calculator
like those in the bank?

Maybe an abacus?
Do you know what that is?

Sure.

Some restaurants still use it
to write your bill.

Especially in Moscow,
where you are so popular.

Aren't you a funny guy?
You're so fucking funny!

I think that's all we need.

For now.

Thank you for your time.

Porfirio Cárdenas Díaz.

Jeez, your name sounds like
you're the President of Mexico.

Come on.

Sign here.

If you can't write,
just make an "x".

Very funny.

For your information,

I went to the best schools
in all of the city of Madrid.

What is this for?

This is going to get you
Social Security.

Good.

I can only tell you that
it is someone close to Mr. Benavides.

I imagine.

Remedios Hernández, right?

That little snake!

She is worse
than an incurable disease.

She only hired you to clear her name.

If you ask me,
she's still as suspicious as the rest.

If not more.

What was it you kept from the police?

It's a delicate subject.

It seems that Mr. Benavides
had a small problem a long time ago.

I had been working with him...
since 1963,

so, eleven years...
and I never knew about it.

Julian, who manufactured shirts,

told me before he started working
for a big clothing brand

who offered him better conditions.

What type of small problem?

He got a girl pregnant
in Cerralbos del Sella,

a small town in Asturias.
He then pretended it never happened.

He went completely M.I.A.

He never took responsibility
for her or the baby.

-Hi!
-Hi!

How was the game?

It was OK. We lost.

I left some coffee
for you in the kitchen.

No, thanks. It's been a long day.

I beat my own record drinking coffee.

What are you reading?

Re-reading "Cosmopolitans"
by Somerset Maugham.

People call him "Mum".

-Mum.
-Mum.

I like everything he has done.

His novels, his short stories, his
travel adventures, his literary work,

even his playwright.

Despite his success,
he's still unknown by many.

Do you know what I like
the most about your house?

It's not my house,
it's my grandmother's.

I know, but it's your house now.

Books.

Know why?

Books make it cozy in here.

Hello?

Very well.

Adrián will be right down.

-Thank you.
-You're welcome.

-Good morning, gentlemen.
-Good morning.

Come this way, please.

Right through here.

Benavides, right?

What a shame! A real shame!

Take a seat.

Thank you.

You're here to talk about
my relationship with Benavides.

That's right.

Well, the suit I'm wearing is his.

My relationship with Narciso
was strictly professional.

We also met in a poker game or two.

I like to play every now and then

and get away from these bookshelves.

It may not seem like it,
but it is stressful at times.

If he wasn't a close friend,
why did you lend him money?

I refused in the beginning,

but when he offered
the insurance policy,

he ended up convincing me.

But now that insurance policy
makes you another suspect.

I don't understand why.

As we said over the phone,
it's not so clear he committed suicide.

So?

Although it may sound ridiculous,

the existence of the insurance policy
can be considered a motive.

I see.

Listen here.

I am incapable of killing someone.

And do you know why?

Why?

Because I'm a good person.

It's hard to argue
with such a solid argument.

Poor guy. Such a shame!

Vicente, let me make a call.

Thanks.

I appreciate you were able
to come all the way to my house.

I know it's a bit far
from the city center,

but certain things are better
handled at home than in an office.

Of course, you may add
any transportation expenses.

The round trip
is about 70 kilometers.

By the way,
do you play golf, Areta?

I prefer cards.

But, I must say, hitting a ball
with a stick can't be easy.

And you?

I prefer winter sports,

ski jumping,

and every now and then,

maybe polo and canoeing.

I play under medical prescription.

It's like a drug I need
five times a week.

-I don't really play as a hobby.
-That's an expensive medicine.

Anyway... I suppose Luengo
told you about the issue...

He hasn't mentioned anything.

We've had a small issue
with an employee,

who had become
my trusty man in the company.

He was like a friend... almost family.

It was a difficult decision,
but I had no choice but to fire him.

I gave him the maximum settlement the
law allows for unlawful dismissal...

But, he is asking for more!

How much more?

As much more as you can imagine.

Each month, well... each week
he's asking for a larger amount.

-I am being blackmailed non-stop.
-Why didn't you go to the police?

I don't want the scandal.

I'm a well-known businessman, Areta.

My company is listed
in the stock exchange.

You will have to tell us
everything, Mr. Vergara.

Otherwise, we can't help you with this.

By everything...

I mean everything.

Well... We had a...

We had a private party
in my estate in Toledo.

There were minors of both genders.

And your employee, your trusty man,

recorded everything on tape.

I see Luengo was right.

You are an incredible expert
in what you do.

Areta, is it...

is it hard to...

to kill someone?

Killing someone is unpleasant,
but it's not difficult.

Especially for those
who can live with it.

Please don't tell me Luengo
and the boys from Investmark

said we were hit men!

No!

God no! Nothing like that!

I was just thinking out loud...

I heard the rat came back to the city.

Go find him

and tell me where he is.

That's all.

It's all I need you to do.

Find him

and tell me where he is hiding.

That's it.

What do you think?

I think that, first,
you have the bad guys.

Then come the Lorenzo brothers.

Then you have the really scary ones.

And lastly,

at the same level as terrorists,

we have these sons of bitches

who like to fuck
little boys and girls.

-Wait a minute! Don't you dare...
-Hold it.

Of course we dare...

I'm afraid we can't be of assistance.

My private investigation
is an old-fashioned agency.

We don't kill anyone, for now.

Good day.

Good day.

Hello?

Oh, hi...

OK. Thank you.

That was Moli...

Franco is dead.

They are going to
announce it on the radio.

What will happen now?

Now?

Well... it might divide
the country again...

or... there's a miracle
and we all get along

and maybe we get through all this.

That would be quite a surprise.

Who knows?

My fellow Spaniards.

The Minister León Herrera y Esteban
has some words to say.

It is with great regret,

that I read the following notice:

"This day of November 20, 1975.

The civil and military units

notified at 5:25 am

that, according to reports given
by the corresponding doctors,

Your Excellency, our Generalísimo,

has passed away due to a heart attack,

ending his battle
after suffering a severe peritonitis.

Later today, doctors
will issue a detailed medical report

written by the people
who catered to his care...".

So, the job "Beef" had was tricky?

Vito Corleone is a saint
compared to that guy.

A real saint.

Luengo is in for trouble...

What do you think?

He's good.

Moves fast.

Strong left hook.

He's bold.

All we need to see
if he has can jagg up.

Without that, you are doomed, old man.

He'll be on the floor in no time!

-What do you know?
-He's won championships.

Championships?
For little boy games, sure!

Knock him out!

You've got this!

He's a good kid.

He asked me to manage
his period of leave for a few years.

He's under my wing.

He was in the drug unit before.

His name is Mendoza

and he wants to fight
as "Kid Mendoza".

C'mon, Mendoza! Finish him!

Jesus Christ, hit him already!

Listen.
About the favor you asked...

Maybe you were right,
and the tailor did not kill himself.

The path of the bullet
that killed him doesn't add up.

The guy was right handed.

He needed to aim for his
heart from under his armpit.

A strange way of ending
your life, for sure.

-You've got him cornered!
-Watch your step!

By the way, there's a Madame

who has a house where they organize
games where they only play big money.

The tailor went there frequently.

-"Mesalina".
-Who?

"Mesalina", Conchita Azpeitia.

She was associated for a long time
to the Chief of the secret services.

She is known as "Mesalina"
among some aristocrats and high class.

I would like to meet her.

Soon. Is that OK?

Listen, little fly.
Is this a favor?

Or are you asking
because I owe you something?

No.

I'm asking the same way you asked me
to check your Mendoza boy out.

I don't owe you anything.
Nothing.

No?

Listen to me and listen to me well.

We were not responsible for anything.

We did not kill
the two guys from the south.

Get that out of your mind.

It was the Guardia Civil
who confused us with terrorists!

But we were the ones to give
the force that information.

No. I'll say it again.
We didn't do it, neither you nor I.

They proved the information
was wrong and from the Ministry.

The higher offices of the Ministry.

This guy hits like a girl!

Look at that.

He does have a good knock out.

Your "Kid Mendoza"
has my blessing.

You need to get rid
of that moustache,

marry that beautiful girl you are
seeing and have a few kids.

Doesn't have to be in that order.

Jeez, master...

We have already talked to everyone
and look at what we have!

A dumbass singer

and a queer librarian.

-What are you talking about?
-Trust me! He's a little girl!

We also have the two women
the tailor used to hook up with.

His secretary, Luisa,

and our client.

That makes four.

The "Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse".
Just like Galdós' book.

-Blasco Ibáñez.
-Same thing.

We must remember,
as Moli just said,

is that policies made before Benavides
popped the clog don't count.

So, master...

In my opinion, if it helps,

is that this is clearly
a crime of passion.

Let's forget the guys
for a second.

Don't you find it funny that the ones
with a higher insurance amount

are this Luisa woman
and our client Remedios?

We'll have to keep looking.

Right?

What are you angry about?

Or are you up for
the grumpiest man in the world?

Jeez! We never get a smile from you.

Most people, Moor...

Most people
can kill for many reasons,

but there are usually two options:

money or love...

That's what I'm saying!
Love. Passion.

Those two
are just holding on to grudges.

But there are exceptions.

Some people do it
for the mere pleasure of killing.

Areta, Private Investigator speaking.
One moment, please.

It's "Beef's" secretary.

It's the third time they call.

Put him through.

One moment.
Mr. Areta is on the line.

Hello?

My client told me you walked out on him
and refused to help him!

Is your address book there with you?

Yes, right here.

Open the letter A.

"Areta: Private Investigator".
Found it?

Got it.

Scratch it off.

Don't fucking call me ever again.

What do we do now?

Don't worry.

No problem.
We'll go on with the plan.

We know more people, don't worry.
Just as good or better than Areta.

I told you it was urgent

and that I wanted it solved
as soon as possible.

You're lacking behind.

When I say as soon as possible,
it means now.

Give me two weeks.

It has to be a clean operation,
without leaving any footprints.

Give me two weeks.

Ok, then.

Hand me your Rolex.

Hand me your Rolex.

Today is the 7th.

You've got to the 21st
to make it in time.

-Bye, Basilio.
-Goodbye, Miss Laura.

Good afternoon. Crónica 2000?

-Second floor on the right.
-Thank you.

Crónica 2000 speaking.

No, he just left.

I'm not sure.
He'll be back in an hour or so.

Would you like to leave a message?

You're welcome. Bye.

Listen, Noemí, this must go to print.
It's urgent.

Yes. Right away.

Crónica 2000 speaking.
One moment, please.

Imagine if, after all this,

this fuck-boy tailor
really did kill himself.

My mind is just going over,
and over the same thing.

But nothing.

Moor, you don't think.

All you do is talk.
Talk and talk nonstop...

Be patient, Moor. Patience.
That's what our job is about.

Good shoes and patience.

-That's what makes a private detective.
-Right.

There is also a lot of knocking
on doors like a preacher

and driving up and down
the streets all day.

One of Joan Crawford's movies
said that being a detective

is like building a car.

You put all the pieces together,
one by one.

And, when you're done,
you have one of two things:

a car or a serial killer.

I'm sure that somebody
that we have talked to

has benefited from Benavide's death
and I'm sure that person lied to us.

Yeah.

But who?

How can we find out?

We will find out

with the shitty lie detector I have.

I see.

Sure, that's more like it.

Good evening, Conchita!

-Thank you for...
-What do you want?

Benavides.

Narciso Benavides.

Very well. Benavides.

He was one of the first
to join my poker games.

I recall it was Colonel Badía
who brought him.

He was a client of his.
He used to make his uniforms.

Badía has been in the background.
He lives in Marbella.

You can cross him off
your suspects list.

We can make a distance call, Conchita.

I know from experience.

Big personality,

fun, a womanizer...

He couldn't care less about the world.

"Eau du Soleil".

Excuse me?

Your perfume.

That's what it's called.

It smells like a ray of sunlight
covered in the scent of orange,

lemon, raspberry...

Vanilla.

It smells like a day at the beach
by the great Pacific sea.

How do you know
so much about perfumes?

Detectives must have
a strong sense of smell.

Tell me, Conchita,

do you recall who was playing

on the night of the 8th of June,
the night of the suicide?

That was a while ago.

Almost six months ago.

Try to remember, Conchita...

I can try harder, Areta,
but it's going to cost you.

You or whoever hired you.

Don't you worry about money.

I'll call that friend of ours, Ricardo.

-Maybe he can lend me some.
-And if he doesn't?

Illegal gambling is still
penalized, as far as I know,

as is prostitution,

particularly creating
that interesting cocktail you made

of private poker club
and... masseuses?

Whores. The best ones.

I'm sure the police would like
to know of such activities.

When you do call them, tell them to put
you through with Chief Michelena.

He knows us well.

He comes to see us once a month.

No.

Better than that, Mesalina,

I'll ask them
to let me talk to Marrodán,

Michelena's boss.

Do you know who Mesalina was?

Emperor Claudius's wife?

Yes. She was the wife of Claudius

and a lover to gladiators,

senators, soldiers...

-Do you know why I got that name?
-No.

Because of María Félix.

She played Mesalina
in an Italian movie.

They say I looked like her
when I was young.

She was a very dangerous woman,
Mesalina.

Well, the three of us:
Mesalina, María and me.

-Jot this down.
-Not necessary.

Let's see.

Eight of June.

That night the game was played between
Benavides, Johnny Olas the singer,

Lauro González Bellver,
the big constructor from Mallorca.

Marisa Carmona, the actress,
Adrián Ramírez de Lugo,

The librarian of the Casino,
that's right.

Julio Carvajal Roura,
the famous psychiatrist

and the countess,
widow of Peñagrande.

So, seven people...

Do you believe the suicide theory?

No. I don't think
he committed suicide.

That night Narciso was happy,
you know.

He won almost 500 thousand pesetas.

We could have called a taxi
for him, but he refused.

He picked up the phone,
probably called up a lady friend

and left.

He wanted to go for a walk.

What about tonight?

-Is Johnny Olas still winning?
-Yes.

He's on a good streak.

Does the giant ever play?

I don't think he knows what cards are.
He focuses on his own thing.

Eating chocolate bars...

Yeah.

You are not a dangerous woman.

Really?

You're just a whirlwind.

I'll leave it at strong wind.

You are welcome here anytime.

No need to talk to Ricardo.
I'll give you credit.

Thank you very much.

I bet you are a good player...

and I'm never wrong.

Next time we can talk sitting down
and with a glass of the best bourbon.

Isn't that what detectives drink?

Or is it Gimlet?

It's 4 o'clock in the morning.

The tailor leaves Conchita's house.

He called our client before that,
telling her he had a good night

and has won loads of money.

He walks down Sil street
until he reaches Serrano.

It's a beautiful night.

He's happy.
He has no rush to get a taxi,

but someone is watching
or following him.

Or "someones"...

Or "someones"...

All of a sudden...

Bam bam! He gets shot.

From behind.

The bullet goes in through his armpit.
The killer is left-handed.

We know Johnny is a lefty.

But he was in Azpeitia's house
so, he has an alibi.

And the librarian
and our client are right-handed.

What about Luisa form the shop?

Right-handed.

So, what?

I'll tell you what.

You are going to get on a bus
all the way to Gijón.

When you are there,
you're going to take a train

and go to Jerusa.

Next to Jerusa there is a small town
called Cerralbos del Sella.

-Write this down, damn it!
-I'm making a mental note. Like you do.

Find out everything you can
about the girl he got pregnant.

Talk to the priest.

With people at the bars.
Blend in with everyone there.

What if they ask who I am?

-You tell them you are...
-A journalist.

Got it.

I'll work for the ABC.
Better yet, the other catholic paper.

I'm writing an article
of abandoned women.

Bring back receipts, ok?
I want receipts for everything.

I know. I've got this.

Careful now!

The first round
can be a little strong.

Some people call this drink
the "Cold War" cocktail,

others call it the "Silver Bullet".

But, the best idea of a Dry Martini,
is what my friend, the poet,

Manuel Alcantará said about it.

-We watch the fights together.
-Right.

Manolo says a Dry Martini
is like a "diluted knife".

-To you.
-To you.

-I told you...
-No, I love it!

It's style.

Dry Martini, more than anything else,
is about style.

-Well, then... To style!
-To style!

I've got something for you.

-Really?
-Yes.

Here.

According to the instruction manual,

you have to keep it
in the second drawer of your desk.

All the movie detectives have one.
With whisky or bourbon.

It's for the nights you get to the
office sad and with a broken heart

although it was still beating.

-Thank you.
-You're welcome.

What's this?

It's another gift for you,
but you can't open it until Christmas.

-Promise?
-I promise...

What would you say to living
in a horrible little apartment,

full of old furniture, the type
grandparents would have?

I saw a place in the center,
right next to Retiro park.

What if we give it a shot for
some time? Let's see how it goes.

Not in your place or mine...
somewhere new for both of us.

-Full of books... and music... and...
-With laughter.

And with a TV that works,
not like yours, and in color.

-It's like... Bear with me.
-Go on.

Like a summer storm,
a ray of light shining within you...

And with the best style!

I'll say yes
to that old apartment in Retiro.

I was exaggerating.
The apartment is not that bad.

You will like it.

I have...

What?

I have all these feelings, but...

I just don't know
how to put it into words.

But...

I feel like you truly know me.

Yes, Moli.

Hi, detective...

Hello.

Where are my flowers?

Don't tell me you forgot?

They always bring flowers
in the movies!

You can't say
I wore too much make-up.

The doctor told me
you are out of danger

and that you will get better very soon.

Tell my husband that.

He is not going to like it...

Do you have any news
on the Narciso case?

I'm on it.
We'll talk later.

Now, be a good girl
and get some sleep.

Yes.

Those eyes of yours...

I like them.

They have seen a lot.

More than what we mostly see.

I'll come back tomorrow
to see how you are doing.

OK.

Bring flowers.

I want that article now.

You wanted to see me?

Are you Felipe Tárrega,
Remedios Hernández's husband?

Yes. What do you want?

Listen carefully, because I am
only going to say this once.

If you ever lay a finger on her
again, I'll kill you.

Got it, you son of a bitch?

-But...
-Got it?

-Good day.
-Good day.

BENAVIDES' TAILOR SHOP

She is in the ICU...

She barely survived.

-If you are asking why I...
-I haven't said a word.

What do you want me to say?

That I'm rotten inside?

It's not my fault hatred

has taken over all my thoughts
after Narciso died.

Hate, just like jealousy or resentment,

is a feeling that never dies down.

Hate only creates hate
and it will eat you alive.

If you are not careful,
it can become a way of life.

I know, I know.

Sometimes in can be comforting,

just like religion.

Don't act surprised.

We live in a shitty country,

full of hate and vengeance.

Suit yourself.

-Hello?
-Hi, master?

I have conquered the north of the
country! I have all the latest gossip.

First things first. You were right
about a lot of things, as always.

I'll tell you later.

The girl the tailor
got knocked up was a bombshell!

She lives in Avilés now.

She manages a small hotel
called Bahía Hotel.

The priest told me about it.
Quite a weird guy.

Why weird?

Why weird?
He's like one of those bald men

that try to hide it growing bangs
with four streaks of hairs.

That's weird, don't you think?

-Anything else?
-Hey, master. I met this chick...

We're talking really hot.

Hotter than a sailor coming home.

He hung up!

Can't blame him.

By the way, Philip Marlowe,

I don't only love you,
I really like you.

-Good morning.
-Good morning.

-Morning.
-Morning.

Hello.

Hi.

We were worried about you.

I called you several times.

Last night, Moor and I
stopped by your house.

I'll get you some coffee.

-Good morning, Moli.
-Morning.

Germán is here.

Good morning, master.

May I?

Where have you been?

We looked for you everywhere.

Rocky was here every day.
So was Meri.

Even Vicente, the waiter,
called asking for you.

Are you ok, master?

No.

But I will be.

Thank you, Moli.

Ricardo called late last night.

He wants you to go see him.

But, before you do,
if you would just listen,

you should take a shower,
put on some clean clothes, shave...

and rest.

Yes, master.

He also told me
they caught Adela's murderer.

It was Johnny Olas's big bodyguard.

You know him.

Expósito. Ramiro Expósito.

A rather unfortunate man.
He has the brain of a three-year-old.

Not even.

He was in a gas station
stuffing his face in chocolate.

What about the rock star?

The rock singer was taken in for
questioning, but nothing came of it.

He was playing all night at Azpeitia's.
From ten to seven in the morning.

I talked to Azpeitia myself
to make sure it was true,

besides the other nine witnesses
who were also playing that night.

So?

Fuck, that's it.
They let him go.

He leaves on tour in a few days.

It doesn't matter.

I could not care less
about any of your big bosses

full of medals

who may deal with that punk.

Some things never change,

with or without Franco.

More than 50 years ago
the writer Valle Inclán said:

"Spain only rewards the ugly".

It's something deep in our culture.

That will never change.

Don't leave, Germán. Listen.

Don't take this as advice
because I've never done that,

and much less to a rebel like you.

Besides, we live in a fucked up world
where everyone wants to be right

and no one listens to advice.

Listen, the last time I saw
your father was in his death bed...

Sit down, for God's sake!

Your father was in the Ruber hospital,

just as he was about to light up
his last cigarette told me...

I can still see him.

"Ricky, do you remember the goal Marsal
against the Athletic de Bilbao?".

I said: "Of course.
We saw it together in Chamartín".

I think it was
a championship in 1957 or 58.

Real Madrid had already won a couple
of trophies and was a great team.

Di Stefano, Rial, Gento,
Kopa, Zárraga...

While in Bilbao, we had a great team
with Garay, Carmelo, Gaínza, Maguregui.

As I was saying...
as the game was ending,

Marsal run up the right side
and ran straight into Etura.

He had full control on the ball,

he got to the goalie,
looking straight at Carmelo,

who had seen him coming
and was ready to stop him.

Suddenly, Marsal turned left
and had the ball in the small area.

Garay and Canito were in the area.

Marsal had enough time to shoot
straight into the goal between them,

but, instead, he went to tackle them
and dodge them.

First, he hit one on the waist
and knocked down the other.

Then he reached to goalie,
only three meters away.

Carmelo threw himself to his feet

trying to stop him from making
the shot, he almost got a penalty.

Until Marsal shuffled
from one side to the other,

while Garay and Canito
were approaching to stop him,

Marsal hit the ball lightly, real slow,

just enough to make it in

and the ball went in the goal
almost in slow motion.

Like people do in the bull fighting,
everyone waved a white handkerchief.

There must have been hundreds
of thousands of tissues in the air.

Among them,
your father's and mine.

The next day, the newspapers
called it the "Eternal Goal"

I don't think
it was more than 15 or 20 seconds,

but it was enough
to make us feel time had stopped.

What I mean by this is that,

your father, that last day
in the hospital said:

"You know what, Ricky?

Marsal did what
we were never able to do.

Marsal added something to that goal
that we couldn't bring into our jobs:

serenity, patience, skill,

rectification, coldness,
and hip movement...

We could have done
with more hip movements.

But, above all, Marsal added
three of the most important "I's":

in this great career we have made
which is no more than to help people.

Intelligence, imagination
and intuition.

And he said:

"Those things, Ricky...
is what my son has.

My son's problem is
that he keeps it all to himself.

Germán is never there,

even if he's present."

That's what he told me.

Jesus, old man!

Good memory!

You know, little fly.

I have never been gifted
with the skill of memory.

I am cursed though...
the curse of not being able to forget.

The older you get,
the less you know,

as the song used to go.

You'll see in time.

My father also used to say
that, when a crime goes unpunished,

our world, society, life,
or whatever,

pays the price

and gets darker.

I have a few things to do...

Some of them illegal and dangerous.

Germán... I'll do anything for you,

even if I'm taking a dump.

Go see Sánchez first thing tomorrow...

I've talked to him.
He will get you everything on the list.

You are also going to have
to take two dogs with you:

a Doberman and a German Shepherd.

Here.

Tell her to leave.

She can take the car and leave.

Sit down.

You haven't killed my dogs, have you?

Dogs are made of pure love.

Did you know that?

My friend,
the one with a funny-looking face

took them somewhere
to teach them a lullaby.

They are going to sleep for a while.

Don't worry about them.

Let me tell you
how this is going to go.

You can't do anything to me.
You're nobody.

You are not even a cop.

You're a sad man playing detective.
That's what you are.

I spoke to the police and they let me
go because I didn't do anything.

So, get the hell out of my house

and I'll forget you
are trespassing my property

at night with a gun,
and all this bad shit.

Get the fuck out of here, asshole!

So, Benavides was your father?

That's right.

That son of a bitch was my father.

Your name is Juan Olavide,

Covina's son, the girl
who Benavides got pregnant

about 30 years ago in a city up north.

He's on the money.

Killing that bastard was
an act of justice for my mom.

He fucked up her life
when she was just a girl.

Do you mind if I smoke?

The first memory
I have from my childhood

is seeing that son of a bitch's
tailor shop in Ayala street.

Step away from the pool table.

I used to watch that man,

knowing he was my father,

but he didn't want to be my dad.

I remember my mother crying,
feeling rejected.

If I hadn't seen such melodrama...
I swear, I started singing

because I was sick and tired
of hearing her cry every night.

Sit down.

I started singing

to cheer her up
and lighten up her miserable life.

For years she tried to get Benavides
to acknowledge me as his son,

to get what she wasn't able
to give me:

a surname, good education
in a good school,

nice clothes...

And nothing.

When I turned nine, we moved to...

Gijón,

where your mother got
a job at the Bahía Hotel

and you were able
to go to community college.

All thanks to Matías,
the priest back home.

I started singing in a choir
in Saint Peter's church.

I was an amazing Crooner.
Everybody said so.

Then I turned to Eric Burdon.

Does it ring a bell?

Eric Burdon?

The Animals? No?

They say I look like him.

I arrived in Madrid
as a popular singer,

a big star.

And where did I go?

To the tailor shop.

I became his customer
to see him kneeling at my feet,

measuring the suits.

He would show me off,
that son of a bitch.

But having him
at your disposal wasn't enough.

So, when he asked you
for some money

and told you about the insurance
policy, you thought to yourself:

that's my ticket.

Vengeance is a blessing, Germán.

I would know.

It's the best thing there is.

That crap about "vengeance
only lead to more vengeance"

and all that bullshit, is rubbish.

Remember the Count of Montecristo:

he cared more about
vengeance than the girl.

Fucking justice!

It was fair, Areta.

That bastard never
gave my mother a cent.

And now, look...
She will get it after he's gone.

I see.

The truth is, Johnny,

everything you say...

I don't want to hear it.

The problem is that
you killed a friend of mine.

A friend who I loved very dearly.
My friend.

I mean,

you screwed up a part of my life
that was going to be great.

You know very well I didn't
tell Expósito to kill your girlfriend.

We just wanted to surprise you.

Shake you up...

We didn't even know
she would be there.

But the gorilla
is not right in the head.

He got carried away and lost it.

Do you have many live recordings?

Seven or eight.

Why do you ask?

I bet none of them
are as good as this one.

So what?

They already questioned me.

And I have witnesses.

They should clean you inside
out to get rid of all that poison.

But it's too late for that.

You don't have the balls
to shoot me...

You know why?

Because you're a loser.

But a very good loser.

I have years of experience.

Are you religious?

Why would you care?

If you are, I'll wait
for you to say a prayer.

I've forgotten how to pray.

Do you think praying
to little angels will help?

Or that "I lay me down to sleep" crap?

I'm sure it does.

Look, man.
I only believe in music.

Music is my only religion.

Well, Johnny Olas,

you better start warming up

to sing wherever you are going.

One more thing, Norma,
if the Minister calls,

tell him that I won't be able
to be in the meeting at 9 am.

I won't make it before 10 or 10.30
I'm trying to clear something up.

-González for 44.
-44 for West patrol.

Go ahead.

We're in Avenida del Puerto, 118.

Ricardo.

Yes?

Let me introduce you.
This is Areta.

Germán, Kid Mendoza.

Hello. They speak wonders
of you in the force.

And thank you.

I know you had a hand
in my leave to box.

When is your debut?

In February,

in Palacio de los Deportes,
against Bustos.

He's a really good fighter from
Mallorca who has had already six fights

and has been undefeated.

Good luck out there.

Can we speak in private, Ricardo?

You can say it here.

Because of the bullet's position,

it's going to be hard
to explain it was in self-defense.

I see.

It's not an easy one, huh?

Here is what I think happened.

The rock start killed himself.

Yeah, but...

But what?

How would you explain it?

There is no need, champ.

Lately, people are killing themselves
in very strange ways.

Remember the tailor who died
in the middle of the square...

Benavides.

He was rich, he was doing well,
had lots of women...

Same thing happened to this kid.

Successful, millionaire...

God knows.

Drugs, heartbreak...

It's a shame, really.

So, Kid Mendoza's career
starts in February?

So, this is your last service...

We are going to miss you.

What about Cárdenas?

The kid has nothing
to do in all this.

All he did was follow my orders.

First thing tomorrow you will
have him back at the office.

I told you Marsal's historic goal

was soft, barely stroking the grass.

Yours was different.

A strong shot,
like a flash of lightning.

But I bet your father
would have like that too.

-6475.
-100.000 pesetas.

No stories about Marciano today?

Or about the Garden?

Today is a special day.

The Christmas lottery,

before Christmas Eve,
and all that jazz.

I actually have a confession to make.

I never wanted to live
in this shitty period.

To the contrary.

I always wanted to get away from it.

I prefer the past,

since I was a little boy.

Want to know why?

The past is a strange
yet quiet place...

where no one bothers you

What they say about looking back
isn't true either,

turning into a salt statue,
like that woman.

Rocky, all that is over.

A new and better era is coming,
you will see.

So, tell me.

Who were the greatest fighters of
all time in your eyes?

Spain has some great ones.
You have Paulino Uzcudum

and listen carefully, even Urtain.

From other parts of the world,
you know,

Rocky Marciano,
he retired undefeated

and, like him... Joe Louis.

Then we've got... but we will see,
he still has some things to prove,

because he is active, but very active,

Cassius Clay,
who calls himself "Mohammed Ali".

Oh, Jeez.

Miss "Always on Time" is here,

looking fancier than ever.

I gave her your invoice
and she has given me a check.

She told me she is moving
to the Canary Islands

with her sister,
who is going to open a souvenirs shop

right in front of the beach.

Let her in.

Well, I'm off.

Alright, Rocky.

Germán,
have a wonderful Christmas Eve.

Although Christmas carols and all
that baby Jesus crap depresses me.

Goodbye, champ!

-Have a good Christmas Eve.
-You too, son.

Merry Christmas, Moli.

Merry Christmas.

You may go in.

Thank you.

Wow! Smells good in here!

I bet this time we didn't get
lottery tickets, we would have won.

That's a shame!

It's true what they say.

What do they say?

That it gives some kind of relief,

seeing someone
more messed up than you are.

We will both get through it.

One day, without noticing it,

we will find ourselves running
without anything holding us back.

It's never too late.

To the contrary.
It's always late.

"Go away and come back ten
years ago."

That's what the girl said
in that cowboy movie...

Take care of yourself, detective...

You are a good guy...

Even if honesty cuts down
a few years of your life.

What was that for?

Just checking if I would like it,

but I'm not sure yet.

You can feel when a kiss is coming.

Don't tell me
it caught you by surprise.

I'll send you a postcard
from the beach.

Don't forget good girls
are overrated.

-Take care.
-You too.

EL CRACK CERO