Original subtitles

(announcer) Tonight on "Acapulco H.E.A.T."...

(woman screams)

(men screaming)

(beeping)

(women whimpering)

(gunshot)

- ♪ Ah, can you feel it? ♪

♪ Burn inside ♪

♪ Yeah ♪

♪

♪ Sweat slippin' down my spine ♪

♪ Making it hazy ♪

♪ Wet fingers touching mine ♪

♪ Making me crazy ♪

♪ Out on the street ♪

♪ I feel the heat ♪

♪ I feel, I feel, I feel the heat ♪

♪ I feel, I feel, I feel the heat ♪

♪ I feel, I feel, I feel the heat ♪

♪ I feel, I feel, I feel the heat ♪

♪

♪ Deep in the darkest night ♪

♪ I feel the motion ♪

♪ Keep all my love alive ♪

♪ Come to the ocean ♪

♪ Out on the street ♪

♪ I feel the heat ♪

♪ I feel, I feel, I feel the heat ♪

♪ I feel, I feel, I feel the heat ♪

♪ I feel, I feel, I feel the heat ♪

♪ I feel, I feel ♪

♪ I feel the heat ♪

(phone dialing, line ringing)

(man) Dominic's Pizza.

How you doing?

You make deep-dish pizza?

No kidding, New York style, too?

I'd like to order me one.

Well, let me see, um, anchovies,

pepperoni, and Italian sausage.

Hey, dude, you don't eat meat, do you?

I almost forgot.

Listen, champ, can you make that a vegetarian?

Great. The address?

221 Via Delmar.

Oh, and, uh, tell the kid to just knock and come on in.

Thanks, champ. (hangs up)

Hey, dude, your pizza is on its way.

(tied man grunts)

(man) Guess what?

If it's not here in 20 minutes, it's free.

Compliments of Mr. Paradise.

(tied man grunts)

- Enjoy.

(tied man continues grunting)

- Two words, seven letters

for heaven's greet...

Heaven's greet...

(chuckles) I got it.

Saint Peter.

(cell phone ringing)

Hello.

That's a pretty big order.

You'll need a truckload of enchiladas to guarantee results.

Three mil? Consider it done. Where?

Puerto Vallarta.

Why not? I hear it's paradise on Earth.

(hangs up)

(engine starts, revs)

(tires screeching)

(gunshot)

♪

- What? What's so urgent?

- What is this stuff?

- It's addressed to you.

- In care of Acapulco H.E.A.T.

- I bet it's our new swimsuits!

- Swimsuits? - Yeah.

- You ordered swimsuits for our boutique?

- Without consulting us?

- Well, I'm a partner, aren't I?

Hey, wait a minute, wait a minute.

Why do you guys get all the fun, huh?

- You think you're an expert on current styles

and market trends?

- Wait a minute. I'm a man, okay?

Listen, I know what looks good on a woman.

When it comes to bikinis, believe me,

I got the expertise, okay? (Nicole chuckles)

- Uh-oh.

(Nicole) These are supposed to be swimming suits?

- Mannequins?!

- I didn't order mannequins.

- Maybe we can return them.

- It's too late. I had to pay the invoice C.O.D.

- No, there's got to be some kind of mistake.

- Is this your signature?

- Oh, yeah, that's his chicken scratch.

Looks like we got you by the ballpoint pen, Tommy.

- You got your catalogues mixed up.

- Well, congratulations.

You just bought yourself four dozen plastic women.

- And you owe Acapulco H.E.A.T. $1599.

- Wait, wait, wait, where in the hell

am I gonna get that kind of money?

- And we would appreciate it...

if you removed your property.

- What am I gonna do with 'em?

- You could have a yard sale.

You wouldn't believe the things I've gotten rid of

in yard sales.

(women laughing)

♪

(woman) So who is this Linus Hopper?

- Sir Linus, he's an old friend from MI-5.

We did some high-maintenance work for him a few years back.

- Nothing too intense.

The rescue operation's quick in-and-out stuff.

- Yeah, and he returned the favor by keeping us in the loop.

- (Nicole) How tight? - Tight enough.

Sir Linus's information is always right on target.

- What target is this about? - Oh, I don't know.

He wouldn't tell me on the phone.

- Sir Linus. - Oh, Cat.

So very nice to see you again.

Thomas.

Keeping yourself fit as usual, I see.

- Nicole, Joanna.

So what brings you to Puerto Vallarta?

- Well, you might say I'm pulling your chestnuts

out of the fire. - Oh, how so?

- Oh, some rather unfortunate business

looming on the horizon.

And, uh, since it was in your yard,

I thought it best if you were brought into the loop.

- Fire away.

- Several days ago, we had an occasion to extract

a VIP defector from Libya.

Now, the story he told was so bizarre

that it was practically beyond belief.

However, we were able to confirm it

with a source very close to the top of the tree,

and we gave it an 85%.

- High enough to act on. - Oh, indeed.

Seems the son of a high-ranking member of Gaddafi's cabinet

got himself bagged right here on your turf.

Oh, it was an automobile accident.

He was making a night of it at one of your social clubs.

- You mean the Cat House?

- The young man got himself very drunk.

And instead of sending him home in a cab,

they let him drive.

The madam, a woman called Vera, tried to stop him,

but unfortunately, he drove his car over a cliff into the ocean.

The father, understandably upset,

has issued an order that everyone connected

with the establishment on that ill-fated night,

is to be killed.

- Everyone?

- Well, according to our background check,

that includes 11 girls, a staff of six,

and the proprietress,

for a total of 18.

- My God.

- Yes, my sentiments exactly.

- How can he doing something like that?

- Well, that's what's so extraordinary.

He's issued an open contract.

- How much is the contract for? - Three million.

Or more precisely, uh, 166,666.66 per kill.

It's rather neat, don't you think?

- My God, they're all sixes. How Satanic.

- So anyone can collect?

- With verification, apparently so.

A professional or amateur.

- Would have every psycho freak in the world coming down here.

- Yes, it is rather worrisome, isn't it?

This is a dossier on the psycho freaks we know are coming.

I know it's just the thin edge of the wedge,

but I thought it might be helpful.

- Ladies, get some copies of this dossier to the police, okay?

- I'll get a patrol car sent out here, too.

- Round the clock 'cause some of those hitters

might already be here.

- I'll check out the hotels and the car rentals.

- Don't forget airlines, cruise ships,

bus stations, everything.

We'll get a cab back.

- Right.

(Tommy) Yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking.

Look, I met Vera two years ago.

She saw me on the beach taking out a couple goons

and wanted me to teach her girls how to defend themselves.

Guy living in his truck.

You know, money's money, so here I am.

♪

(chatter)

- Hello, Vera. - Hey, Tommy!

- How are you? - How nice to see you.

- Alicia, Erica, Tina.

Don't get the wrong idea. They're my students.

- Oh.

What is it you teach your students?

- Tai chi. - How nice.

- Vera, this is Nicole, one of my, uh, partners.

- Hello. - Pleasure.

- Can we, uh, talk to you alone for a minute?

- Girls, do you mind?

So, what is it?

- We have reason to believe that you're in danger.

- What kind of danger?

- A man has threatened to kill you.

- Me?

- Well, not just you, everyone here,

everyone that works for you.

(Vera chuckles, then sighs) Someone's playing a joke on you.

I mean, who would do something like that?

- Look, six weeks ago,

a customer was killed on the way home from here.

- An automobile accident.

- Yes, I-- I remember.

Very tragic.

But what has that got to do with us?

- His father has ordered your executions.

- Oh, God. (sighs)

- Maybe you should shut down for a while, send everyone home.

- I can't do that.

I have a business to run.

I mean, these people-- these people need money.

They have families to feed.

- We take this threat very seriously.

- You take it seriously. I can't.

I mean, I'm-- I'm sorry for the man's loss,

but he's out of his mind.

If we did everything every crazy man asked us to do...

we'd all be out of our minds, mm-hmm.

Now, I have work to do.

♪

(Tommy) Why waste our time?

Why bust her chops trying to change her mind?

She's not gonna do it. - I agree.

There's no way she's gonna close the business.

- Well, that means a 24-hour stakeout.

- Who ordered pizzas?

- I didn't. - Me neither.

- Well, it wasn't me.

- Oh, well, let's not look a gift cow in the mouth.

- That's horse, Nicole, not cow, horse.

- Horse, cow, what's the difference?

Mine has anchovies, and I love anchovies.

- Hey.

- Hi. - Hi.

- I'm looking for Pocco Degrasia.

- You found him.

- Well, hey, I'm Tommy.

I got a message you wanted to see me?

- Yeah, you're the guy with all those mannequins.

- Yeah, I guess... guess I am.

- I might want to take some of them off your hands.

How many you got?

- Four dozen.

- I don't think I can use that many.

- They're not a match set.

I mean, you can buy any number you want.

- Oh, good. I was thinking...

maybe a dozen.

I have this, uh, sculpture piece in mind.

Listen, Tommy, I'll give you 10% of what it sells for.

- Nothing up front?

- My stuff sells, and I get good prices.

- 15% and you got a deal.

- Done.

♪

- Delete one, Chief.

He's been scalped at the bus station.

(chuckles)

(machine whirring, typing on keyboard)

- Would you believe it? She's never done it before.

(Tommy) Oh, look at her.

No man probably ever offered.

- Not that.

She's never killed anyone.

Agnes Gooch is an amateur.

- Agnes Gooch?

- Oh, I call her that because she reminds me

of that poor lost soul from "Auntie Mame."

(typing on keyboard)

You know what she told me?

She told me she was only gonna kill just one of the girls.

She said the world wouldn't miss one prostitute.

And she needs the money for her father's sex-change operations.

- And you believed her?

- No. I don't think so.

- Good. You're learning fast.

What we got here is an assortment of dirtbags.

My guys have full rap sheets.

Extortion, assault, armed robbery, no homicides.

- So we're getting the amateurs and the semi-pros,

but no heavy hitters.

- I think I've just seen what you call a heavy hitter.

Punch up Mora Steronovitch.

- This one you need to spell.

- S-T-E-R-O-N-O-V-I-T-C-H. (Nicole typing)

- Oof, if anyone deserves a nickname, it's her.

(Cat) No wonder she's a killer.

- That's her.

She just checked into the Marriott Hotel

in Puerto Vallarta.

- She's credited with over 20 kills.

Contract hitter for Russian crime families.

This could be our guy. (computer beeping)

Oh, more from Sir Linus. (typing)

(Tommy) Ooh, what is that?

- That is Aaron Moss.

Wrestled professionally as Bullet Head.

Weapon of choice is the garrote.

Seven confirmed strangulations.

(computer whirs, then beeps)

This one is Mr. Paradise.

Credited with over 40 kills.

No descriptions, he's never been seen,

but he leaves a calling card.

He calls himself Mr. Paradise because--

- Because that's where he sends people--

to paradise.

- And according to Sir Linus, he never fails and never misses.

This is the one who sent us the pizzas.

- How do you know that?

- His last killing, a porno king named Duke Solomon--

- He clipped a porno king with a pizza?

Too many anchovies will do it.

- He rigged a shotgun to the front doorknob,

then called to have a pizza delivered.

- He sent us pizzas.

- He's just game-playing with us.

- I don't like his games.

- You're not gonna like this either.

Sir Linus says we should be on the alert for this guy--

Hamm. - Hamm?

Just Hamm? - Just Hamm.

Looks like he's got a stomach cramp.

- What's his M.O.?

- Weapons of choice-- nine millimeter and his hands.

Martial arts expert and former member of S.C.A.R.S.

- S.C.A.R.S., what's that?

- Special Combat Aggressive Reactionary Systems.

It's a martial art developed by the military.

Supposed to be undefeatable.

I know, the guy looks like King Kong,

but he's just a man, just like me.

- Well, let's keep an eye on this one.

She could go into action at any time.

(Mr. Paradise humming)

Thanks, champ.

See ya in hell, pal.

(Vera sobbing) Oh, God, I'm sorry.

I should've listened to you.

- That's okay.

After dark, we'll take all of you to a safe house.

Don't worry, we'll take care of everything.

- Why didn't he shoot me?

- Lucky for you he missed and hit Mr. Bullet Head.

- Perhaps he did not miss.

Perhaps Mr. Bullet Head was his target.

- Well, now, wait a minute. Who says the killer's a he?

- I do.

Got his calling card.

- "Compliments of Mr. Paradise."

- Now we know he's here.

(Joanna gasps) Remember what Sir Linus said?

- He never misses. - Right.

- Which means he killed exactly who he intended to kill.

- Well, the question is why?

- He's up to something. What, I don't know yet.

- Well, whatever it is,

we're not gonna make it easy on him.

- I want to hire your services.

(Mr. Paradise humming)

(continues humming)

- My friend's here.

- Ah, food, I'm so hungry.

- Here you go, ladies, for you.

And for you.

- Oh, sorry, sweetheart. - It's all right.

- Ass.

- Thanks.

(crowd screaming)

(woman) Get away from there!

(woman shrieks, crowd shouting)

(announcer) "Acapulco H.E.A.T." will be right back.

♪

(Nicole) That boat is a half mile away.

- No one can make that shot.

- No one did.

She wasn't killed by a gunshot.

- Then how was she killed?

- HMX-- high-mass explosive.

Newest thing in plastic explosive.

A piece the size of a marble could wipe out this place.

- But her chair didn't blow up. That is a bullet hole.

- It's not a bullet hole.

He used a piece of HMX.

The size of a dime, 8180 chip.

It fires a flat pellet

at the force of 50,000 feet per second.

- How do you know all this? Because you were once a spy.

- No, I read it in "Solider of Fortune" magazine.

- You're kidding.

- The man who stumbled, he grabbed the chair.

- My God, could-- could that have been Mr. Paradise?

- This woman and Bullet Head were both professional killers.

Do you realize what he's doing?

- He's-- he's killing people.

- Why these people and not the girls from... Amore?

- That's a good question.

- He's getting rid of all the competition.

That way he can keep all the money for himself.

- Oh.

This guy's not only dangerous, he is greedy.

- Pocco? - Yo, Tommy.

You're just in time for the unveiling.

- Yeah, I'm not staying, I...

- Ladies and gentlemen,

let me present to you a new tableau...

by Pocco Degrasia.

Surf...

sand...

and soap.

Come on.

(harmonica playing)

(applause)

So, Tommy, what do you think?

- It's, uh...

It's interesting. It's just... different, like.

That's it, it's very different.

- Exactly, exactly.

You have a very discerning eye.

- Yeah.

Cool daddio, it's really cool.

- I agree. Very cool.

- Do you think somebody will actually buy this piece of...

art?

- I don't see why not.

- Where-- where would they put it?

- Anywhere.

- Anywhere?

- Yeah, it's an original Degrasia, isn't it?

- Yeah.

It's an original all right.

- Thank you.

Can I help you? - You're Cat, right?

- Yes, I am.

Question still stands, can I help you?

- Maybe the question is, how can I help you?

- Okay, how can you help me?

- The name's Brad... Lewis.

- Hmm, that's a very nice picture, Mr. Lewis.

- Brad, please. Call me Brad.

- I.D. photos are usually the pits... Brad.

- Sir Linus and I are old buddies.

And he thought, well, if you needed any--

- Oh, I get it.

Your old buddy sent you on a rescue mission.

- I don't think so, not from what he's told me about you.

- Hmm. Hey, Nicole.

This is Mr. Brad Lewis of the FBI.

He's here offering us his brain wizards.

Isn't that nice?

- Ooh, that's very nice.

- That is, of course, uh, if we need them.

- Ah, but of course.

We can always appreciate his brain wizards,

if we need them.

- You might be interested in some forensics we've developed,

but only if you need them.

Look, why don't we declare a truce?

Have a little bite, and I'll cover what we've got.

- I'll stay and watch the store. You two go.

You can update me afterwards. (clicks tongue)

- Well...

(men speaking Spanish)

(man screams)

- Gabby, hi.

Listen, I was looking at the numbers,

and I think we need about 10 bottles of gin.

We have enough whiskey and vodka.

Okay, that's it, thanks.

(men grunt and scream)

- Mmm... (chuckles) Thanks for lunch.

I really should be getting back.

- Well, you be very careful.

We're dealing with a dangerous character.

- Well, yes, but we're working in the dark.

I mean, if I just had some idea of what he looked like.

- You got a couple minutes?

Come by my room.

I'll show you a photo we think may be Paradise.

- A photo? - Not a very good one.

We're having it enhanced.

But it's something to go on.

- Are you sure you're not just inviting you

to see your etchings?

- First the photo...

then the etchings.

(tires screeching)

(Nicole) Have you seen Cat?

- I thought she was with you guys.

- She had lunch with this federal agent.

- Was it the FBI?

- He said he had information about the contract killers.

They left the cafe two hours ago.

- So what's the problem?

- She was supposed to meet us an hour ago.

She hasn't called. - No one has seen them since.

- She would've called. - Yeah.

Well, let's go find her.

- We cannot leave these people alone.

Someone has to stay here.

- With all this competition out of the way,

Paradise can make his move at any time.

- Talk to the captain, Tommy.

Ask him if he can leave a couple of extra men here.

(fingers snapping)

- Double on.

(deep sigh)

I promised to show you a photo of Mr. Paradise.

Well, I'm a man who keeps his word.

My driver's license.

Terrible likeness.

But like you said, I.D. photos are the pits.

Now you're probably wondering why you're here, right?

It's nothing personal, sweetheart.

(Cat grunts) - Oh, ow!

You're just a distraction.

Your friends are gonna find out who Brad Lewis is.

It's just a matter of time before they show up here.

Now...

the question you want to ask is...

are they going to get here in time?

(chuckling) You know...

my relatives think I'm in the travel business.

Ain't that a riot?

Paradise Travel Agency? (laughs hysterically)

Paradise Travel Agency, ain't that funny?

Ice flight, it means travel, okay,

to the pearly white gates.

I know, some people think I'm a wise-ass schizo.

- Hmm. - They're right.

I am.

The muzzle velocity's faster than the speed of sound.

You won't even hear the shot.

You'll never know what hit you.

Bah! (laughs menacingly)

(inhales) I got it.

Buenos dias, room service.

You can't be hungry. We just had lunch.

Hey, I got just the thing.

Listen, room service,

can you send up a pitcher of margaritas?

Great. Oh, and, uh...

tell the boy to just knock and come on in.

We're dying of thirst.

Ah, I just thought of something.

Wouldn't it be ironic if your friends showed up here

before room service? (chuckles)

Catch you on the flipside, sweetheart.

(kisses, then chuckles)

(announcer) "Acapulco H.E.A.T." will be right back.

- What'd you find out?

- I checked registration.

There is no Brad Lewis registered.

- Maybe there's no Brad Lewis, but somebody's registered.

Housekeeping said they saw Cat going into one of the cottages

with a man, number 401.

(phone beeps)

- Hola, registration?

Hey, Pablo, this is Nicole.

Listen, who's registered in number 401?

Thanks. (phone beeps)

Milton Eden.

- Don't you get it? - No.

- Eden could be an alias for Paradise.

Of course.

In Milton's "Paradise Lost."

- Aha.

Come on, let's go have a talk with Uncle Miltie.

- Excuse me, where's...? (indistinct chatter)

- Over there.

- Thanks.

- Hear anything?

- Hey, let me try something.

Room service.

- (muffled grunt)

- Ah, there's no one in here.

- Cat, are you in there?

(Cat whimpers)

- Ahh! - Ahh!

- Remember the pizza?

What if Cat's tied up in there rigged with a gun

like that porno king?

(Joanna gasps) Oh, my God.

- We can try the back.

- Yeah.

- Oh, look, look, the room service waiter.

Tommy, hurry!

(Joanna screams)

- Ow, ow.

- That creep set me up!

That son of a bitch!

- Come on, easy, girl, easy.

- Don't easy me.

Have you seen Paradise? Where is he?

We haven't got a second to lose.

We have to get to the safe house now.

Now!

(coins jingling)

- Uh...

Sorry.

(women groaning)

- Holy cow!

(Tommy) Don't touch anything, okay?

I'm sure it's all booby-trapped.

- We have to disarm it. - You can't!

Not without the code.

(beeping) Oh, my God, it's beeping!

- Joanna, did that thing start counting down by itself?

- Uh, it has to be activated with some kind of remote.

- Okay, well, it's got to be nearby.

- We have to get these girls out of here.

- No, there isn't time.

- Hey, where are you going?

- To get the code!

(women sobbing)

(Nicole) Okay, calm down.

(speaking French)

They'll be right back.

I promise.

Guys, hurry, hurry.

(engine starts, revs)

(tires screeching)

- Whoa!

- Give it to me.

- I want the code.

- Put an offer on the table, sweetheart.

- Yeah, I'll give you an offer, the code or...

(gunshot)

Next time you sing soprano.

- I don't think so.

It's not in your nature to shoot a man in cold blood.

- You're right.

Let's leave it to chance.

One... (gun clicks)

Two... (click)

Three... - All right, all right.

6-6...

(beeping)

(gun cocks)

6.

(beeping)

- I should've figured.

(women screaming)

- It's finished. - Fini, fini, finito.

(speaking French)

(announcer) Stay tuned for more "Acapulco H.E.A.T."

♪

- Tommy, I got something for ya.

- Whoo.

$1800? - Yeah!

I sold the sculpture for 12,000.

You got any mannequins left?

- Do I? Too many. - Good.

My next piece is going to be, uh, soccer match

between nudes.

- Nudes? - Yeah, without clothes, you know.

- Now, you see, that, that's what I consider art.

- Mmm. - You would.

We'll take that if you don't mind.

- I think Tommy has some change coming.

- I think we'll count it as credit.

- I think we should let Tommy screw up some more orders.

It could be good for business.

(women laughing)

- Women.

(women continue laughing)

♪