All language subtitles for Kojak S03e08 Out Of The Frying Pan . .

[MUSIC PLAYING]

[MUSIC PLAYING]

[MUSIC PLAYING].

[MUSIC PLAYING]

All right, police, hold it!

Put your hands up!

Hey!

Ough!

Hey!

What are you-- [GUNSHOT].

Police!

[MUSIC PLAYING]

[SIREN].

[SIREN]

[POLICE RADIO CHATTER]

I got your message.

What do you say?

Are you telling me that the perpetrators
totaled the victim with Sandy's own gun?

Well, yeah.
Yeah.

Hey, Lieutenant, if these guys
did a cha-cha on Sandy's head,

why don't you wait until he's
finished before you take a statement?

Or better still, would you two
like to ghostwrite it for him?

Just as I thought, you
smell like a distillery.

How does that feel?

Little Tommy Fallon's dead.

He was the best buddy a guy ever had.

Went six rounds with Willie Pep
in the old gardens, you know that?

When he was young, he had
the fastest hands in Brownsville.

OK, we hoisted a few.

I was off duty, wasn't I?

What the hell kind of an
answer is that, on duty, off duty?

You're fired!

The civilian's been blown
away, the hondos are

off and running, and
you lost your hardware.

I lost more than that, Theo.

Hey, Lieutenant, go easy on him, huh?

Easy?

If it wasn't for you Boy
Scouts protecting him all

these years, he wouldn't
be in the jackpot he's in now.

Flopped. 18 years on the force,

and those straight arrows
stuff him right back in the bag.

What'd you expect?

Did you really think your
testimony would turn the trick?

With what the shoe flies dug up, you're
lucky you weren't named a co-defendant.

Now, Theo, I am not judging,
but the man is an alcoholic.

He was so juiced last Tuesday night,
he couldn't even provide a working

description of the guys
that whacked his pal.

Frank, he was off duty.

You know how many
citizen's complaints we've

had against Sandy
alleging excessive zeal?

How many disciplinary
hearings he's finessed?

Now, shouldn't the plus factor of a man's
career be weighed against the evidence?

Why don't you check his arrest record?

There aren't ten men in
Manhattan who can top it.

Okay, maybe he's had
more than his share of beefs,

but nobody's ever accused him of
skimming so much as an egg cream, Frank.

Which is why they didn't just hand
him a tin cup and kick him loose.

Ripped out of a uniform.
That's a slap on the wrist, I suppose.

No. But at least he didn't
lose his pension, Theo.

Look, if he keeps his nose clean,
in two years he can pack it in.

I was in Captain
Brennan's office up at the

old 2-9 the night he
pinned the gold on Sandy.

The grin on that man's face, you
could have lit up Shea Stadium with it.

You know, to take away his potsy
and swap it for a patrolman's Baton.

You know something, Frank?

Who would have been kinder
to shoot him on the spot?

(Suspenseful music)

Don't take it so hard, Skipper.

It had to happen sooner or later.
We both knew that.

Sure we did. Why kid ourselves?

When Lucille died, I climbed into a bottle
I've been receiving my mail ever since.

Back to rattling doorknobs.
Ain't that something?

Checking the glass just like some
fuzzy-cheeked rookie fresh out of the academy.

Not that I intend to be in harness long
enough to lose a crease in my blues.

Maybe I have to have a building
fall on me to get the message.

But I got it. I'm off the sauce.

I haven't touched a drop of anything stronger
than Tiger's milk since the shooting.

Not to myself, to the force.

I owe this much to that
little fella Tommy Fallon.

It was my piece that
cut him down, and it's out

there somewhere in the
city at this very minute.

Tell him not to retire my gold shield yet.
I'm coming back to pick it up.

Sandy, don't be a chump.
That's a sucker's game.

And you're too old to tilt at windmills.
You take my advice.

Ghost, in two years you could phone it in.

I can't do that, Theo.
I'm not built that way.

I know the odds, but other
flops are in a second chance.

I still get my smarts, my
street contacts, my stools.

A uniform and a foot post
doesn't put me in Siberia.

One for the grandstands, that's all I need.

And a PC will have to reinstate me.

See ya.

All right, Sergeant Heron. Move 'em out.

Gentlemen, take your posts.

Not you, Officer Beach.
You come along with me.

I know the way, Captain. I order.

I've been covering that
territory for the last six years.

No doubt. Nevertheless, we'll do it
my way if it's all the same with you.

I believe in speaking my mind, Beach.

Saves time and avoids a lot
of future misunderstanding.

I don't like detectives. Never have.

It's the boys in blue who do the scut work
while you high kickers hog the limelight.

Puts a big lump in my breakfast oatmeal.

But I'll tell you, hot dog,
one thing in the world I

got less use for than a
detective, it's an ex-detective.

You receiving me?

Loud and clear.

That's good.

'Cause I wouldn't want to
have to taxi to work every

morning just to make sure I
was getting my message across.

You get the notion that thanks
to your hooks upstairs, you're

in on a pass and you can just
Coop your way to retirement?

Forget it.

No dogging it in my precinct, mister.

And no showboating either.

[music]

Guess you've been
wondering why a veteran of your

years of experience
wasn't assigned to an RMP.

You're the CO.

You're a lush.

What do you mean?

Don't you want to blue and
white with another officer?

Next thing I know, I'm buying
pot, entrance and a funeral wreath.

It's your funeral wreath I don't care.

It's your partner's that's gonna smart.

Now with a foot post, you're on your own.

This beach's got the highest
crime rate in the precinct.

Turn up bombed, they'll eat you alive.

Malloy!

This is your relief, Officer Beach.

Get in, I'll haul you to the house.

Hey, Captain, I appreciate our little
talk, but don't sweat it on my account.

As a shaved-tail rookie, I raised
my first set of bunions on this beat.

It didn't Bury me then and
it's not gonna whip me now.

Hey, Bucky, how you doing?

[singing]

Hey, Huzzy, baby.

It's me, Sandy B.

Hey, Detective Beach.

Hey, Papa got the word.

Told the sucker, uh-uh,
must be some kind of shock.

But it ain't no fool, huh?

They really got you
pounding these tiles up in?

What they got and what they
get are two different things.

That's where you come in, old buddy.

You're gonna fly me off this block.

Me?

I'm gonna do that in
no way, Turkey, like me.

Don't jerk my chain, Huzzy.

If I had a nickel for
every time you played

lookout for some wildcat save-the-lark
knockover, I'd be soaking up the sun in Miami.

I could have reeled you in years
ago, but I was trolling for bigger fish.

That don't mean I won't
roll over on you now.

I'm so hungry I'd throw the net
over Father Malachy's bingo game.

Hey, baby, I ain't said no dinner.

It's cool, baby. What you want?

Let me know how you do with the kids.

What do you know about
three warehouse boosters?

They were wearing ski masks.

That ring any chimes?

Nerd and jingle, but I
got a whole lot of nose.

Use it.

Five more bills if it comes up cherries.

Well, well, well, well, well, well, well,
well, well, well, well, well, well, well.

[Music]

Okay, Rogaz, call it.

(Gunshot)

Go, let's go.

Come on, move.

Get in there.

Come on, get in there.

Let's go, let's go.

[RATTLING].

[Music]

Cannon two.

It's already wasted two, man.

Yeah, why press our luck?

Yeah, right.

Come on, come on.

Come on, come on, come on.

[Music]

It's a free country.

I stand on my constitutional rights.

I can park my car in front of any store.

We know, any store, right.

Any time I want.

Look, wait a minute.

What kind of a person are you?

What's wrong with competition?

Yeah, we have a Robert Roosevelt.

Hey, Beach.

You okay, Beach?

If it's more than you can handle, we
could always call out the tactical squad.

I can manage it fine, Captain.

Glad to hear it.

It's the commissioner's
wedding anniversary.

It ain't to spoil his day.

Take off.

Now listen, you two.

We're gonna settle this
thing once and for all.

You're gonna move this around the corner,
and you're going back to your office.

Be quiet.

Don't tell me be quiet.

What do you mean, don't tell me be quiet?

One slug right in the old A.R.

The ballistics are still in the trace.

Oh, oh, oh.

Jack Baker.

A familiar face, tall and sundry.

But how come he's a rigor mortis, Crocker?

A deuce at Greenhaven
on a felonious assault.

Back among his peer group less
than a month, and here he lies.

Dumped in the wilds at Central Park.

Gives one pause.

It do?

Paperwork, Junior.

A lot of bureaucratic nitpickers
are gonna be asking why.

Got the answer?

Mm?

Lie down.

(Music)

Police! Police!

Police!

What's the matter with you, kid?
Are you crazy?

Huh?

He tried to Rob me, officer.

He said he'd slit my gizzard
if I didn't come across.

Listen, you take off, cockroach.

If I ever catch you up on my beat again,
you'll wish your brother were an only child.

Beat it.

Aren't you even gonna book him?

If I do that, I have to
make out an arrest report.

You're gonna make an
arrest for that .38, Mr. Presky?

Well, that's my point.

Suppose that was figured
in the commission of a felony.

Suppose they killed somebody.

Such a bargain. How could I say no?

A gallon of musk and
tell is all it cost me.

Three times I was held up last year.

And you want to protect yourself.
I understand that.

Even if I do say so myself.

But the next time, you get a permit, okay?

And you purchase a handgun
through authorized channels.

You better give me that.

Under the circumstances, huh?

Say it never happened.

Thank you, officer. Thank you.

Now, look, this wino, we
talking about bunky art?

Yeah.

We know that in the past, Baker
found employment from time to time

as an enforcer for these
various loan sharks.

But apparently, without ever
forming any lasting family ties.

Which means there's a
better than even chance

he's drifted back into that line of endeavor
following his release from Greenhaven.

Yeah, but in a city full of shylocks.

Where do we begin, Frank, will you tell me?
Where do we begin?

Hey, lieutenant.

All right, what do you want?

Ballistics report on the slug
they dug out of Jack baker.

It was fired from Sandy beaches, 38th.

So they come barreling
out that side door there.

And they head on down the alley,

and they stop just long enough
to get rid of their masks and such.

And then they all pile into a cab.

And away they went.

And that's all you saw, bucky, huh?
That's all you can remember?

Unless you'd like a license number, huh?

Surprise ya, huh?

You figured an old monkey's
brain's gotta be so fickle by now

it'd be doing well if he put two words
together without taking a nap in between, huh?

Well, that's all you know.

Used to be an accountant, Sonny.

Couldn't tell you what day it is, maybe,

but I never forget nothing
that's got to do with numbers.

3420TI.

Yeah, that's it. 3420TI.

The felony's been committed.

Obviously a holdup, and
it's not reported to the police.

Why?

Had to be something pretty heavy, Sandy.

It don't take three hoods to knock
over a dentist and an answering service.

Yeah.

You wait for me at
Delaney's bar, all right?

Yes, sir.

Yeah, do anything for you?

Yeah, I'm checking on a report of a
disturbance in one of the offices here.

You wouldn't know anything
about it, would you, sir?

No, sir.

No?

Well, thanks anyway.

It's probably some patient screaming bloody
murder when the doctor shouted the bell.

[Music]

Buy you a drink, Officer Beach?

When I got it, I'm the last
of the big-time spenders.

I want you to think, Bucky.
Think really hard.

Three of them.

You describe them.

Were they tall, short,
fat, slim, young, old, what?

Young? Yeah.

Yeah, young.

Medium size.

Ordinary.

I don't know.

So much is going on,
everything's happening so fast.

Would you recognize
them again if you saw them?

One, I might.

What?

The one I might.

He had a big scar on his hand.

Yeah, this is Patrolman Lyle Beach.

D-Section Manhattan South Division.

I need the registered owner of a New
York City hack, license number 3420-TI.

Who's that for?

Silence.

What we talked about here never
goes no further, you understand?

Now, if word comes back to me that
you've been running off with the mouth,

you're gonna see a side of my
disposition that's not very nice.

[Music]

Beach!

I just stepped inside
for a personal, Captain.

Now, maybe you get
cast-iron kidneys, but I don't.

And if you doubt my
word, whistle up the relief

and I'll trot over to
Bellevue for a blood test.

Sure. And if I caught you
with your hand in a poor

box, you'd swear up and
down it was done with mirrors.

I got your number, mister.
One week. It's all I give you.

Do you mind if I preempt five
minutes of that week, Captain?

I want to ask Patrolman
Beach a few questions

in relation to a
homicide investigation.

Far be it from me to impede
the wheels of justice, Lieutenant.

Go ahead, take off.

Huh. Could have been worse. You
could have been married into his family.

You know, every time I turn
around, he's taking another look.

Theo, I've got hookers on my beat that
don't cruise this turf as much as he does.

Homicide, you said? Tommy Fallon?

Could be related.

Here. Jack Bacon.

Any chance that this heist artist might
be the guy who blew away your buddy?

I don't honestly know. Why?

He got took off yesterday
sometime with your gun.

Baker, huh? What's his M.O.?

The usual goon artist for hire.

But according to his
yellow sheet, you know,

warehouse heists
are not his cup of tea.

But in today's depressed
labor market, who can tell?

Two steps, courtesy of my 38.

Boy, that doesn't butter my
chances for reinstatement, does it?

Sorry, Sandy. But look, if anything
breaks, I'll keep you posted, okay?

See ya.

Hey, Ozzie, what can
you tell me about Rogaz?

Rogaz? Superfly Lawn Shark.

Dude's got himself a walk-in
somewhere on the block.

Deals in lots of trade.

Lower Manhattan Savings
and Lawn have been there.

You already know?
Then what'd you ask me for?

Because of what I don't know.

Is Jack Baker on Rogaz' payroll?

[Music]

[PHONE RINGING].

Yeah?

Rogaz, three kamikazes knocked
over your place yesterday morning.

They creamed Jack Baker
and swung with a bundle.

You move your Fanny, you'll find
one of them noshing at the select deli.

It's a cab parked outside.

License number 3420TI.

That's your boy.

Forget the ballgame. You got work to do.

[Music]

Let's just go somewhere nice and
quiet and have ourselves a little chat.

Now!

[TIRES SCREECHING]

Who are you? What do you want?

You mean Rogaz.
Where'd you stash that money?

Hey, slow down, slow down, will you?

What are you trying to do?

Are you crazy?

You're going 50! You're gonna kill us!

What are you doing?

[♪♪♪]

Slow down! The cops will see us!

That's what I'm trying to do!

Slow down, slow down, will you?

What are you, crazy?

(Tires screeching)

What's that?

[TIRES SCREECHING]

Police! Hold it!

11th precinct, 43rd and 6th Avenue.

This is 1013 assist
patrol, units responding.

This is 723.10-4.

[SIREN WAILING].

[HORN HONKING]

[SIREN WAILING]

Can you talk?

What happened?

Skipper, I wish I knew.

[♪♪♪]

Damn well makes two of us.

Open. Mm-hmm.

Now I'm gonna have to change the dressing.

[♪♪♪].

Hey, knock it off, will you?

Go give somebody a sponge bath or
something. I got some personal business.

But your shoulders.

My shoulder can wait. This won't.

Go on now. Take a stroll. Take a stroll.

Beat it.

[WOMAN ON PA]

[Music]

I'm telling you, I was
just a passenger, man.

Cab stops at a red light.

This dude jumps in, waving a can,
and orders the driver to take him uptown.

That's all I remember.

Oh.

Well, if that's so,

how come this .45 Cannon turns up at
a back seat with your prints all over it?

And how come, Corky,
if you were just a paying

passenger, the meter flag
was up instead of down?

What do I know?

You're leaning on a man with a head injury.

Ain't you never heard of amnesia?
Cop.

Sure. I also heard of post-nasal drip.
You got that, too?

Maybe I can unscramble your memory.

Corky Cummings, 17
priors, four convictions,

widely rumored to be a syndicate button
man, and nursed while in force. Uh...

Fascinating.

Ain't it? Hey.

But you know what's even
more fascinating, Corky?

On two previous occasions,

you were collared in the company
of one Jackie Baker, now deceased.

Now, would you care to comment
on that, dearly beloved Corky?

On your gravestone.
That's where you find my comments, cop.

Naughty boy.

An officer phoned earlier.

Said it was just an unfortunate accident.

Such a nice tenant for Mr. Patton.

You'd never know from
his manners he drove a cab.

Oh, my.

But the door was locked.

Apparently, the window wasn't.

Who would do such a terrible thing?

I mean, for what possible reason?
I don't understand.

Roger Patton lived here
for six months, Mrs. Wessel.

Surely you must know
something about his personal life.

To tell you the truth, I don't
pay that much attention to him.

I just take a phone call
for him now and again.

I took one for him last night.
After dinner, it was.

Last night? From who?

He didn't leave a number. He said
Mr. Patton would know where to reach him.

It was Shoesomething.

Shulman... Shulberg.

Schuster. That was it. Schuster.

His clothes are gone, too.

I just don't understand it, Lieutenant.

Whatever could have possessed him?
A man in his condition...

Hey, nothing to become uproot about.

I got bored. I snuck down to
Rec Hall to play a little pool.

Dr. Sistrom to the pathology lab.

I tell you to toss Patton's pad,
and what do you come up with?

An address book.

I send you to the fish market,
you bring me back a leg of lamb.

I want my money.

I want to see them... ...gonna have
slayed out with pennies on their eyes.

Lousy address book.

Not a name in it.
You couldn't run for councilman.

Except that one, maybe.

Initials LS.

Phone listed to a Park Avenue shrink.

Paul Unger.

What's that mean? What's the connection?

I don't know.

Don't tell me you don't know. Find out.

Patton's dead.

Cop's been burned.

Corky's in the hospital on the police
guard, and I'm out a hundred G's.

I want it back. You hear?

Nobody's gonna hit a bank of
mine and leave the pile of interest.

Nobody.

[phone rings]

[Street sounds]

[music]

Well, I hope you're satisfied.
The wound is bleeding again.

Open.

That's nice.

They should have sent it to Knucklehead.

What happened to your brains?

That slug had been a
couple inches to the right.

You know they'd be
measuring you for a halo.

Take it easy.

Your little off-duty vaudeville tour's
gonna win you a commendation.

I can think of more
fun-filled ways to earn one.

What's happening on the Baker icing?
Making any headway?

Good question.

We've added a fresh wrinkle.

But what it signifies, I'm not sure.

Turns out that goofball
we pried out of that

cab, he was a kissing
cousin of Baker's.

Oh, that's heavy.

If that's so, the most mind-bending
coincidence is my showing up at the accident.

I thought about that.
I thought about it a lot.

You know, you and me, we clocked
a lot of time between us, right?

And if you had something going,
I figured you'd clue me in. Huh?

Something going? Come on, Theo.

I've been beaten, demoted,
chewed out, and shot.

I couldn't get something going if you
handed me 15 acres of the Las Vegas strip.

There's an incoming
call for you, Lieutenant.

I told the switchboard
to transfer it to this room.

Thanks.

[phone rings]

Kojak.

What is it, Fatso?

When was this?

What was that address again?

Uh-huh. Any ID on the victim?

Leroy Schuster. I got it. I'm on my way.

Okay. Just caught another homicide.
At least we're moving up in class.

This one's on Park Avenue.

[Music]

[Siren]

Operator, this is Officer Lyle Beach.

I want to place a call
to Sergeant Harry Doyle,

Bureau of Criminal Identification,
New York City Police Department. Yeah.

[Siren].

Sandy.
I got it.

Schuster Leroy, male
Caucasian, 26 years of age,

5'9 1/2", 160 pounds, black hair,
brown eyes, complexion high.

Two GLA's suspended.

He did six months of a
one-to-five for armed robbery.

Drew dismissed for lack of evidence last
summer in a suspected warehouse heist.

Does that do anything for you?

Yeah. Does it say anything
there about an injured hand?

Nope.

Harry, I'll tell you what
else you can do for me.

Check on Schuster's all-known associates.

Hang on.

This must be the
barracuda you're looking for.

Nathan Markowitz, known
associate of Schuster.

He sustained an injury
to a hand in an accident in

the machine shop while
serving time at Dannemora.

He's currently out on parole.

You got an address on Markowitz?

Sure.

Lieutenant.

The body was discovered by Dr. Paul Unger.

That's him over there, the
dude with the boss necktie.

The victim, Leroy Schuster.

Worked for him as a live-in houseboy.

Now, according to the doc,
nothing seems to be missing.

So what the perpetrator was looking
for is wide open to creative speculation.

Now, the doc can't tell
us nothing about Schuster

because the boy's only
working for him about a week.

Lieutenant.

Yeah.

After I tossed the subject's
room, look what I found.

Complete set of professional burglar tools.

There's 15 shot 9mm.

Kind of makes you wonder what
this guy did on his days off, doesn't it?

Fatso.

Yes, sir.

Get on the horn. I want
you to run Schuster's

name past BCI and see
if they hang a flag on it.

Yes, sir.

Excuse me.

Captain.

I figured you'd rather
hear it from me first.

Hear what?

It's about Sandy, Theo.

Internal Affairs received a complaint
against him alleging police brutality.

From the mother of some kid
he took down with his nightstick.

Their investigation has
uncovered a nest of snakes.

And I'm not talking about suspension, Theo.

We're talking about the
likelihood of criminal prosecution.

Against Sandy? For what?

Something to do with failing to
report the confiscation of a handgun.

Suppression of evidence
relating to an armed robbery.

Bribing a material
witness to buy his silence.

This is crepe-hanging time,
Theo, and the DA has his hook in it.

Where are you going?

Now, where the hell do
you think I'm going, Frank?

Stay away from him, Theo.
He's out of our hands.

It's not your responsibility anymore.

The hell he's not.

(Music)

That package I left with
you a couple of days ago.

I'm here to get it.

You okay, Sandy? You look like something's
been chewed up and spit out again.

Oh, well, a little bug juice
will knock the edge off that.

Oh, no, I don't want anything.

Oh, come on, now.

Take it. The mix is buying.

[Music]

[sighs]

[Music]

[sighs]

[Music]

Dr. Freeman, to the the pharmacy.

[Music]

Real knucklehead.

[Music]

Ozzie, I need your help.

Hey, man, are you sick or something?

You don't look too good to me.

The first thing you do is you
call the lower Manhattan Bank.

You talk to Rogaz.

You tell him if he moves his keister,

you can nail the last surviving
member of their knockout team

by visiting Nate Markowitz
here at the apartment.

-You got it? -Got it.

You place yourself strategically in
a lookout post and fire up that banjo.

Keep on plunking it till Rogaz shows.

When the music stops,
I'll know he's arrived.

Suppose I can't reach Rogaz?

When you come back to the
apartment, we'll go to Plan B.

He won't come alone, you know.

Yeah, I know that.

One.

[Music]

I want to sign this report card.

-Lieutenant. -Later, Crocker.

Any word on Sandy yet?

Well, I.A.D.'s ordered a pickup.
So far, no sign of him.

Fool.

One for the grandstands, he said.

You know, I'd give a year's pay
to know what in the hell he's up to.

Here's the yellow sheet on
Leroy Schuster that you wanted.

The B.C.I. just sent it over.

Crazy. Sandy Beach called him a
little while ago for the same information.

He did what?

Schuster. Sandy wanted to know.

Get me B.C.I.

The cop and his gat and the leader
of the gang that pull the heist on you.

They're waiting for you.

You can get them if you move fast.
They're waiting for you now.

All right, folks. Settle up.

We just got lucky.

I'm telling you, man,
this is dumb, dumb, dumb.

You're gonna take on Bingo
Rogaz, the shape you're in?

He'll make creplock out of you.

Listen, Heat, use your head.

I'm sitting on a hundred K.

You let me walk out of here,

I cut you in for half.

If I was on a money trip, I'd have
been on the pad 18 years ago.

I want the Patsy back, Turkey, and
you're gonna pay the freight charges.

Yeah, Lieutenant.

Markowitz.

526 East 81st
Street, apartment 2C.

Yeah.

Good.
Round up two more volunteers, won't you?

It's showtime.

Saperstein! Stavros!

You recognize it?

The order. It's the piece you lifted
off me on the loading dock that night.

The piece that took little
Tommy Fallon out of the picture

and blew away a punk named Jack Baker.

Nobody knows you dumped it in the alley.

As far as the rest of the world is
concerned, you're still packing it.

So you found your cannon. So?

This cannon is gonna notch another piece.

Another stiff, maybe more.

Rogaz or whoever he
dispatches to make a hit on you.

And an off-duty patrolman, Sandy Beach,

just happens upon the scene

and is forced to gun down the
trigger-happy Nate Markowitz.

You're crazy. You know that?

You're out of your loving tree.

Yeah.

I can see how it might look that way

from where you sit.

Makes perfect sense to me, though.

What could be more perfect

than the man who was most
responsible for me losing my shield.

should help me to regain it?

You, Patton, Leroy Schuster.

Three little nebbishes.

reaching for the big time.

There ain't one of you
could carry Rogaz's spit.

[coughing].

[Guitar playing]

[Music].

[Music]

[music playing].

[siren wailing]

In five minute, 2C.

Markowitz, Officer
Beaches, armed and waiting.

Of course, if you was
to use the fire scheme...

Micey, micey, micey.

You heard the man.

[Music].

[groaning].

[music playing]

[Music]

(Gunshot)

[siren wailing]

Hold it! Police!

Hey, up on the fire escape!

[gunshots].

Keep them high. Back off.

But hang on to Junior, Saperstein.

Get up. Get up!

Looks like he simply bled to death.

Sandy.

I was there, eh?

[music playing]

[music playing]