Asylum
[consulate;
Thatcher’s office]
Thatcher: I
know it’s long distance, Fraser, but I’m giving you
authorization. Should anything of an urgent nature arise –
and I do mean urgent, as in fire, flood, famine, act of
God – these are my numbers. My cell number and pager
number, my room at the spa, the front desk at the spa, the
therapy rooms, the mud rooms, and, uh... You won’t be
needing this number. Clear?
Fraser: Yes,
sir.
[phone
rings]
Fraser:
Canadian consulate, acting liaison officer Constable
Benton Fraser speaking.
Ray: She gone
yet?
Fraser: Uh, no,
sir. Uh, Canada is a nation bordered by the United States
to the south, the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans to the east
and the west, and the Arctic Ocean to the north,
comprising of roughly 10 million square kilometers.
Ray: So the Ice
Queen is still there.
Fraser: Yes,
sir, it can be a cold climate.
Thatcher: Who
is it?
Ray: Fraser,
I’m in a hurry.
Fraser: It’s a
man in a hurry.
Turnbull: Your
limo, sir.
Thatcher: My
limo. [exits,
carrying luggage]
Ray: Fraser,
you there?
Fraser: Have a
safe trip,
sir.
[alley]
Ray
: Listen, Fraser, something came up. I got to meet a guy,
so I won’t be dropping by tonight. There’s--
Volpe:
Vecchio!
Ray: Got to go.
[hangs
up]
Volpe!
[Music: “Boring
Days” by Race]
Volpe
: So?
Ray: So?
Volpe: You
wouldn’t be wearing a wire, would you?
Ray: Me?
Volpe: So you
don’t mind if I have a look?
Ray: A man with
style is a man who can smile.
[Volpe pats him down, perhaps getting a little...friendly]
Ray
: Ooh. Do you the same favor?
Volpe: I’m a
criminal. What would I be doing wearing a wire?
Ray:
Posterity?
[Kowalski pats Volpe down, finally hitting him lightly on
the
head]
Volpe: Are you
satisfied?
Ray: I’m never
satisfied. What do you want?
Volpe: What do
I want? You called me.
Ray: I didn’t
call you. You called me.
[gunshots...
Kowalski ducks; Volpe is hit, and falls over dead; thug
knocks out Kowalski & puts gun in his hand, then runs
off]
Officer Tibbet:
Police! Stay where you are!
Ray:
[waking up]
Ungh.
Tibbet: Police
officer! Don’t move!
Ray: It’s okay,
I’m--
Tibbet: I said
*don’t move!*
Ray: Take it
easy. I’m a cop.
Tibbet:
I said
freeze!!
Ray: Okay,
okay. Good. [puts
down gun]
[noise of something
getting knocked over... *meow* ...Tibbet turns to shoot at
cat, and Kowalski takes off]
Tibbet: Stop...
[fires at
Kowalski] ...or I’ll shoot!
Ray: Good
sequence!
[Kowalski runs down alley; Tibbet fires after him but is
out of bullets...he runs down various streets, then bursts
into consulate
lobby]
Ray:
Fraser!
[Thatcher’s
office]
Ray: The guy’s
a psycho. He’s been running his own little operation on
the south side for a year or so. Drugs, guns,
prostitution. Your basic American dream.
[Fraser applies
ointment to Kowalski’s
forehead]
Ow!
Fraser:
Sorry.
Ray: What is
that?
Fraser: It will
prevent infection. You were discussing Mr. Volpe?
Ray: It smells.
Word is he’s getting ambitious lately, so naturally I’m
anxious for a face-to-face. I get there, and it’s a
setup.
Fraser: You
think somebody hit you?
Ray: This stuff
smells. I don’t remember. Um, I wake up, Volpe’s dead, and
I got this uniform blasting away like Yosemite Sam. Bang,
bang, bang. I take off.
Fraser: And you
have no idea what happened to Mr. Volpe?
Ray: This stuff
really stinks. Ah, somebody shot him. It could’ve been
anybody. It could’ve been me.
Fraser: I
see.
Ray: What is
this?
Fraser: It’s a
concoction I made from the mucus membrane of a pregnant...
It’s not important. What is important, if I may recap, is
that you were lured to a meeting with a gangland figure,
and at this meeting, the gangland figure was murdered, an
event of which you have no memory. A uniformed officer
arrived, you resisted arrest, and you then fled the scene
of the homicide. Do you agree these are the facts of the
scenario?
Ray: Did I just
say that or do I have a head injury?
Fraser: Well,
Ray, I’m afraid that I have no option. By the powers that
are vested in me by the government of Canada, I am placing
you under arrest. You have the right to remain silent.
Anything you say can be used against you in a court of
law. [handcuffs
Kowalski]
You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an
attorney, one will be appointed to you without charge. Do
you understand these rights?
[27th
precinct]
Welsh: Don’t
let his exterior fool you. Cahill is a real pit bull.
Other guys were out playing baseball, he was breaking
kneecaps on the picket lines. He’s tough, he’s a son of a
bitch, and he’s running for State’s Attorney. If he wins,
gentlemen, we do not want to be on his bad side because he
will break our chops for eternity. Let’s go in, hear him
out, then we do our job. Got it?
[into Welsh’s
office]
Cahill:
[sitting behind the
desk]
Harding! Hey, how’s your belly where the pig bit
you?
Welsh: Sore,
Damon, sore.
Cahill: Huey,
good to see you again.
Huey : Thank you, sir.
Cahill
: [to
Dewey]
Didn’t you have a beard or something?
Dewey: No,
sir.
Cahill: You
look different.
Huey: You’re
thinking of Louis, sir. My previous partner.
Cahill: Oh,
yeah. What, he retire?
Huey: No, sir.
He, uh--
Dewey: He was
blown up in a car, sir. The name’s Dewey. Nice to meet
you. You know you look bigger in your posters.
Cahill: It’s
not the size of the army, kid, it’s the fury of its
onslaught. [all
chuckle]
We done, huh? Done with the
laughs? Let’s
move on. The Volpe shooting, what’s the status?
Welsh: We’re
investigating, sir--
Cahill: Was he
registered as a confidential informant?
Welsh:
No.
Cahill: What
was the purpose of the meeting between Volpe and
Vecchio?
Welsh: I wasn’t
privy to that content.
Cahill: Were
you even aware
that Volpe was going to take a meet with Vecchio?
[silence]
So this meet was unauthorized. Tell me,
is that the way you normally conduct the affairs in this
station?
Welsh: What
kind of question is that, Damon?
Cahill: It’s
not a question, Lieutenant Welsh, it’s a statement.
Speaking as candidate for the office of State’s Attorney,
I will not have members of the Chicago PD cozying up to
organized crime. Speaking as an officer of the courts, I
will not have members of the Chicago PD blowing them away
in back alleys! Pick Vecchio up.
[exits]
Welsh: Would
you escort Mr. Cahill out, Dewey?
[Dewey
exits]
[bullpen]
Cahill : Oh, Dewey, tell Huey I’m sorry about Louie.
[corridor]
Reporter
: Mr. Cahill.
Cahill: Ah,
Miss Byron.
Reporter: Mr.
Cahill, as a candidate for State’s Attorney, what’s your
response to today’s shooting?
Cahill: Well,
Miss Byron, as you know I’ve spent the past year heading
up the mayor’s task force in the fight against organized
crime...
[consulate]
Cahill on TV:
...and the battle has only reinforced in me the deep
conviction that no one is above the law. Not you, not me,
nobody. Especially not the police.
[Kowalski turns off
TV]
Ray
: The guy’s campaign is dying, needs an issue, so I’m the
issue.
Fraser: Well,
only temporarily. As soon as we can arrange for a blowback
test to prove that you haven’t fired a gun
recently--
Ray: Won’t
work. Small arms certification. I was on the range this
morning. I’m covered in blowback.
Fraser: Oh.
[Turnbull exits the
W.C.]
Well, perhaps I’ll take this opportunity to urinate.
Turnbull: I
wouldn’t go in there, sir.
Fraser: Well, I
have to.
Turnbull: I
wouldn’t go in there.
Fraser:
Turnbull, I have lived among the musk ox. There’s very
little that I--
Turnbull: It
won’t flush, sir.
Fraser: Ah. Is
it the standard military modified field unit?
Turnbull:
Correct. A 17-centimeter stem on a 9-liter
displacement.
Fraser: A
17-centimeter stem on a 9-liter displacement. Not
available locally.
Turnbull: We
could have one flown in from Prince Rupert.
Fraser:
[snaps
fingers]
That’s the ticket. Good thinking, Constable.
Turnbull: Thank
you.
Ray: Hey, are
you guys sort of like the British? I mean, what’s up with
the toilet? The reason I ask is, once we had this guy over
from Scotland Yard, and every day he would drive back to
the hotel just to use the can!
Turnbull:
[aside]
I see nothing wrong with that, do you,
sir?
Fraser:
No.
[front door; knock knock
knock]
Fraser:
Ah.
Huey: Okay,
Fraser, don’t give me a hard time. I have a warrant for
his arrest.
Fraser: I’m
afraid that Ray is already under arrest.
Huey: By
who?
Fraser: By
whom.
Dewey: By
whom?
Fraser: By
me.
Huey: Fraser,
you’re a Mountie. You can’t arrest anybody unless you’re
in Canada.
Fraser: I am in
Canada.
Huey: No, no,
see, this is Chicago.
Fraser: Well,
you would think so, wouldn’t you, but you’d be
wrong.
Dewey: Are we
in the Twilight Zone?
Fraser: You
see, under the terms of the Vienna Convention 1964, this
consulate and the grounds upon which it sits is Canadian
territory. Turnbull? So technically, you see, Ray is in
Canada. Now, if you wish to arrest him, I’m afraid you
will have to extradite him. These are the necessary forms
to be completed in triplicate and filed with the American
embassy in Ottawa.
Dewey: We are
in the Twilight Zone.
Huey: Fraser,
you can’t do this.
Turnbull:
Actually, he can. Regina versus Montmarquette, 1967.
[Fraser blankly
stares into
space] A
confidence trickster was extradited to Alberta to face
charges that he bilked pensioners in a phony mattress
scheme. Also, in 1984, Regina versus Horowitz. A man with
a very large--
Fraser: Thank
you, Turnbull.
Turnbull:
Sir.
Fraser:
Gentlemen.
Dewey: Can we
use your bathroom?
Fraser: Oh
certainly, certainly-- Uh, no.
Impossible.
[inside consulate; visitors talk in background]
Ray
: Hey, they really got to extradite me?
Fraser: That’s
right.
Ray: Wow. Go
figure. Where are you going?
Fraser: To the
scene of the crime.
Ray: A good
plan. You do that, I’ll get my files.
Fraser: I’m
sure the police have already picked up your files,
Ray.
Ray: Yeah,
yeah, they’ve gotten my
files, but they
wouldn’t have gotten my
files files. I
keep my secret stuff in a hollowed-out book. Let’s get
into it.
Fraser: Oh, no,
you don’t seem to understand, Ray. You can’t leave the
consulate.
Ray: Why?
Fraser:
Detectives Huey and Dewey are undoubtedly stationed
outside waiting to arrest you the moment you step from
this building. As long as you remain here, you’re
safe.
Diefenbaker, let’s go.
Turnbull: Tea,
Mr. Vecchio?
Ray:
Safe?
Fraser: Welcome
to Canada, Ray.
[exits; beginning of
Can. anthem plays...]
Turnbull: Since
you’re a newcomer to our nation, I figured an orientation
might be of some help as well as some good fun. Are you
familiar with the sport known as curling?
Ray: No.
[crime
scene]
Fraser: Stay
here.
[Dief barks]
Fraser:
Good boy.
[Dief
barks]
Fraser: What
have you found?
[Dief
grumbles]
Fraser:
[tastes]
Yeah. Gunpowder. The gunman fired from
here... after waiting for his victims to arrive.
[picks up cigarette
butt] And
he was a heavy smoker
[tastes cig
butt] Some
sort of salve. What do you think?
[27th
precinct; Kowalski’s desk]
Kilrea: This
all of Vecchio’s stuff?
Welsh
: Yeah, and I want a receipt for all of it.
[Kilrea cleans out
everything but the art book at the bottom]
Kilrea: Don’t
worry about it.
Welsh: I always
worry when Internal Affairs starts messing with my
detectives.
Kilrea: If I
need anything else, I’ll call you. Oh, and I’ll need a
copy of any phone messages he gets. Every message.
Welsh: Hey,
hey, I don’t have enough people here to take messages for
the people who work here. You want Vecchio’s messages? You
work dispatch!
[Welsh & Kilrea exit; Francesca walks over to the desk
(to that jazzy ‘Frannie’ tune) and retrieves art book
(Canadian Impressionism) from Kowalski’s desk
drawer; she casually takes it into the supply closet,
where it’s pitch
dark]
Francesca:
Fraser?
Fraser: I’m
right here.
Francesca:
[sniffs
deeply]
You smell great.
Fraser: That
would be the neatsfoot oil.
Francesca: You
wear neatsfoot oil?
Fraser: On my
Sam Browne.... My belt.
Francesca:
Oh.
[door suddenly
opens]
Fraser: Ah.
Sergeant Kilrea. Just the man I was looking for.
Kilrea: You’re
looking for me in the closet?
Fraser: Well,
no, I’m in the closet for an altogether different
reason.
Francesca: I
wish.
Kilrea: Who the
hell are you?
Fraser:
Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP. And I certainly don’t mean
to step on any jurisdictional toes, but Ray Vecchio did
not shoot Mr. Volpe.
Kilrea: Maybe
he did, maybe he didn’t. Who cares?
Fraser: I
do.
Kilrea: Listen
to me. Ray Vecchio is a smartass. He brings the heat down
on all decent cops. Cahill wants Vecchio, I’m going to
give him Vecchio. And you’re going to give me that book.
[takes the book and
exits; Frannie closes the door with her & Fraser
inside...]
Fraser: Oh
dear.
[consulate]
[Turnbull engrossed in curling match; Kowalski throws
little somethings at Turnbull’s
head]
TV commentator:
The Canadian team has one in the four-foot and is going to
play the guard.
Ray: Anything
that moves that slowly is not a sport.
Turnbull:
[under his
breath]
Not a sport.
Ray:
[mimes
sweeping]
This is not a sport. It’s housework.
Turnbull: It is
a *calling.*
Ray: It may be
a pastime, it may even be a hobby, but it is *definitely*
not a sport!
Turnbull:
[stands,
angry] Do
you want to fight?
Ray: Over
*curling*?
Turnbull:
*Yes.* What if I made fun of baseball?
Ray:
[pause] All
right.
[both rise and put up their
dukes]
Fraser:
Afternoon, gentlemen.
[Turnbull relaxes, but just
barely]
Ray: Hey,
you’re empty-handed.
Fraser: But I
am not empty-trousered.
[Fraser proceeds to undress; Turnbull has one eye on the TV]
TV commentator : ...going a bit too strong, he’s actually taking weight off the rock...that shot went a little further than he intended... That’s okay, we’re okay...
[Fraser pulls files from one side of his jodhpurs]
Ray : Yes!
[Fraser hands files over, then gets files from other side]
Ray : Yes!
Turnbull
: Sir? Sir!!
[points to
TV]
Fraser &
Turnbull: Sweeeeeep!
TV
commentator
: Nice shot!
Turnbull: Oh, I
love this
game!
Ray
: That-- [points to
picture]
Eddie Herrndorf. Old-style gangster. Guy’s ruthless. Once
he cut the muscles out of a guy’s leg with a sword cause
he cut him off in traffic. That--
[points to another
picture]
Gus Fillion, Eddie’s main competitor. Sees himself as a
Renaissance sort of guy. These two used to duke it out,
but they’ve been getting along
lately.
Getting along until--
[points to third
picture]
Andreas Volpe, glue-huffing psychopath. Local kid, big
ambitions.
Fraser: So it’s
your theory, if I may recap, that Volpe challenged their
authority and was killed as a result?
[doorbell rings]
[Kowalski flips picture of Volpe face
down]
Ray: Yeah. See,
that’s why we’re policemen, Fraser. We get to figure these
kind of things out.
Fraser: Right
you are, Ray. Right you are. I think it’s time that I paid
Mr. Fillion a visit.
Ray: Look, no
offense, Fraser, but these are Chicago hard guys. I mean,
you can be as polite as you want, but they can have you
hanging from a meat hook in 13 seconds.
Fraser: Well,
I’m not without my resources, Ray.
Turnbull: Sir?
Your presence.
Fraser:
Ah.
Ray: Your
presence? What are you, like a king or something?
Fraser: To
Turnbull, yes.
[lobby]
Fraser: Ah,
Leftenant Welsh. Nice to see you. Welcome to Canada,
sir.
Welsh: Fraser,
this is Assistant State’s Attorney Cahill.
Fraser: It’s an
honor, sir. I’ve seen your posters all over town.
Cahill:
Constable, I’ll come straight to the point. I’d like you
to surrender Detective Vecchio to me.
Fraser: Well,
I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir. The extradition treaty
between our two countries is very specific--
Cahill: We want
to question Vecchio in connection with more than a
particularly vicious homicide. I’ve suspected for some
time that organized crime has an informant somewhere
inside the police department in this city.
Welsh: Sir, I
don’t think we have to bother Constable Fraser with
that.
Cahill: I want
this man to understand what he’s interfering with.
Fraser: I think
I can put your mind to rest on that point, sir. Ray had
nothing to do with this murder, and I can personally vouch
for his integrity.
Cahill: I’m
supposed to take your word on that?
Fraser: Yes,
sir.
Cahill:
Uh-huh.
Welsh: You see,
sir, Constable Fraser doesn’t lie.
Cahill: Oh,
that’s an admirable quality in times of peace, but we’re
in the middle of a war. A war against crime and
corruption, and I demand your cooperation! The city of
Chicago demands your cooperation!
Fraser: And you
shall have it, sir, to the full extent of the law.
Cahill: Are you
mocking me? Are you mocking this city, this
administration?
Fraser:
Certainly not, sir. No. We greatly appreciate the
generosity shown to us by the people of Chicago, and I
assure you should you ever find yourself in Nunavut, you
will not be wanting for a meal.
Cahill:
[laughs]
Come here. Come here... You know, this
Marcus of Queensbury thing and your grammar and all, it’s
very quaint. But I just want to remind you that we took
Grenada, we beat the snot out of Haiti, we knocked Panama
on its ass, and if needs
be, we can take this
little piss pot
too! Have
a nice evening.
[Cahill exits, followed by
Welsh]
Fraser: Oh
dear.
Voice:
[in Cantonese,
sounds like “ho yee cheh, eh cheen sa keh
duhkahla”]
[elderly woman
approaches with a paper]
Fraser : Ah. [in Cantonese, sounds like “gayee, twamm boh doo, yow tyan”]
[Robert Fraser’s
office]
Robert Fraser:
Close the door, son. Anyone would think you were born in a
barn.
Fraser: I
was.
Robert Fraser:
Oh. That’s true enough.
Fraser: You
always told me that the most important thing a man can do
is his duty, and...
Robert Fraser:
Uh-huh.
Fraser: I’m
about to embark on a somewhat devious course of action and
I’m not entirely sure where my duty actually lies.
Robert Fraser:
1961.
Fraser: All
right.
Robert Fraser:
I was ordered to help 32 Inuit families relocate 500 miles
further north on Ellesmere Island. We had some dispute
with the Russians – this was long before the Canada Cup.
We wanted to demonstrate our sovereignty over the far
north. Now I’d been up to Ellesmere and I knew that life
up there would be hard, if not impossible. I said as much
to my superiors but they were adamant and I had my
orders.
Fraser: So what
did you do?
Robert Fraser:
The only thing I could do. I went up to Ellesmere and I
marked out 32 plots of land. I threw up a flag, opened up
a post office. Tom Goforth, a young man from one of the
families, lived up there all alone for the first year,
receiving all these relocation checks. He forwarded them
back to the families, who used the money to hire a lawyer
who won their case against their relocation in
court.
Fraser: So you
created a fictitious town.
Robert Fraser:
Well, Ellesmere was listed in Maclean’s that year as
having the lowest crime rate in North
America. Your
heart is where your duty lies, son. Your head is just
along to help with the driving.
Fraser:
[goes to leave,
then
stops] Oh.
Uh, Tom Goforth. What happened to him?
Robert Fraser:
Tom? Tom, I believe, moved to Winnipeg and went to work in
a record store, but that’s not relevant to this
situation.
Fraser:
No.
[stakeout; Duck Boys
watch Fraser & Dief exit the consulate]
Dewey: Is that
really a wolf?
Huey: He can
bring down a caribou.
Dewey: Just the
weak ones. It’s known as calling the herd.
Huey:
Culling.
Dewey:
What?
Huey: Culling
the herd, not calling the herd.
Dewey: Well,
what did I say?
Huey: You
said-- Forget it.
[bar]
Fraser: I’d
like to speak to a Mr. Fillion, if I could.
Man: Hey,
boss.
Fillion: Is
that a wolf?
Fraser: Half
wolf, actually.
Fillion: Is
that legit?
Fraser: Yes.
Yes. My name is Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian
Mounted Police. I first came to Chicago on the trail of
the killers of my father and for reasons that don’t need
exploring at this juncture, I’ve remained, attached as
liaison with the Canadian consulate.
Fillion: Come
here. I painted all these. I love dogs. Not candy-assed
drop-kicked dogs, you understand. I mean real dogs.
Fraser: A very
deft touch. Amazingly lifelike.
Fillion: It’s
just something to do. It’s better than clowns. I hate
clowns. Once had an experience with a
clown. Won’t
do ‘em.
Fraser: It’s
understandable.
Fillion: So
you’re the one that’s got Vecchio stashed away, huh?
Fraser: He is
suspected of shooting a man named Andreas Volpe.
Fillion: So
give him a medal.
Fraser: He’s
innocent of the charge.
Fillion: So you
think I did it.
Fraser: I’ve
formed no opinion, sir. I’m merely gathering information,
proceeding more or less along the lines of a royal
commission.
Fillion:
[chuckles]
I like you. You can talk. Most of the
cops around here can’t string a sentence together.
Fraser: The
Academy stresses language skills as highly as it does
hand-to-hand combat or snowmobile repair.
[man takes Polaroid of
Dief]
Fillion: I am
going to paint you, both.
Fraser: We
would be honored.
Fillion:
Listen, I had no reason to whack Volpe. Volpe was very
valuable to me. He had good information. Information is
power. But the word is that, uh...Herrndorf was looking
for some out-of-town talent.
Fraser: Was he
successful?
Fillion: You be
the judge. So. You like my work?
Fraser: Very
much, yes. This one, I take it, would be a homage to
Milton Glaser?
Fillion: That’s
right. Here, take
one. Take two.
Here. I churn three or four of these out a day.
Fraser: I
appreciate that. Thank you kindly.
[stakeout; pizza guy
pulls up]
Dewey: Vecchio
eats a lot of pizza. How does he stay so slim, you
figure?
Huey: Maybe he
works out.
Dewey:
When?
Huey: In
secret.
Dewey: When no
one’s looking, you mean?
Huey:
Maybe.
Dewey: Sneaky
guy.
[inside
consulate]
Ray: There’s no
pineapple. Where’s the pineapple?
Sandor: Tony
don’t put pineapple on ‘em no more. Said it ain’t right
for the pizzas.
Ray: What is
Tony, the Surgeon General all of a sudden? Get in there.
[to
Turnbull]
Can you get out? We need the room.
Turnbull: No.
No, Ray. In Canada, when we wish someone to leave the
room, we say ‘Could you please leave the room.’
Ray
: Could you please leave the room before I punch you in
the head?
Turnbull: You
see? You see how easy that
is?
[Kowalski nods]
Turnbull
: [to
Sandor]
Hello, welcome to Canada.
[exits]
Ray: All right,
Sandor, I know you’re plugged in. Talk to me. What are
they saying? Who whacked Volpe?
Sandor: They’re
saying maybe you did, they’re saying maybe Herrndorf cause
he’s nuts, and they’re saying maybe Fillion ‘cause him and
Volpe had a beef.
Ray: What kind
of beef?
Sandor: It’s
nothing serious. Volpe tried to stick a bomb under
Fillion’s car.
Ray: So Fillion
had him whacked.
Sandor: Well,
if it wasn’t you and it wasn’t Herrndorf...
Ray: All right,
listen. You get back out there, put the word out on the
street the Mountie wants to see Herrndorf.
Sandor:
Herrndorf? Ain’t nobody wants to see Herrndorf, Ray.
Ray: Did you
just question my judgment?
Sandor: I
did.
Ray: And what
do I have to do?
Sandor: You
have to hit me, Ray.
Ray:
[thump]
Correct.
Sandor: Thank
you.
Ray: You’re
welcome. Now get back out there.
[Sandor exits; Kowalski goes to window, and sees car still stationed outside]
Ray
: Damn.
[Kowalski gets an
‘idea’]
Turnbull
: Canada and Denmark are going to extra ends!
Ray:
[stands in front of
TV] I
gotta use the can.
Turnbull: It’s
broken.
Ray: You’re
right, so I’ll go across the street.
Turnbull: You
can’t. The police are outside.
Ray: Right.
That’s why I need your uniform.
Turnbull: Out
of the question.
[trying to see
through Kowalski]
Ray: Okay. I’ll
whiz in the sink.
Turnbull:
No!
TV commentator:
Unbelievable, ladies and gentlemen! If this sport were to
last a thousand years, I don’t think you’ll ever see a
shot like that again!
[Turnbull gestures in frustration, and goes to change clothes]
[phone
rings]
Ray:
Yeah?
[spa; Thatcher is getting a
massage]
Thatcher: Who’s
this?
Ray: Uh, it’s,
um, it’s not an embassy, it’s... Hey, what’s the name of
this place again?
Thatcher: It’s
a consulate. And this is Inspector Thatcher. Who is
this?
Ray: Ray.
Thatcher:
Oh!
Ray: Ray.
Thatcher:
Mmmm!
Ray: Detective
Raymond Vecchio--
Thatcher: I
know your name, Detective. Is Constable Fraser
there?
Ray: No can do.
He’s out hanging with gangsters.
Thatcher: I
leave for a matter of hours and the whole operation falls
apart. Is Constable Turnbull there?
Ray: Uh, yeah,
hang on.
[yells]
Turnbull! Ice Queen! Phone!
[quietly into
phone]
Ray.
Thatcher:
Mmmm!
Ray: I got the
touch.
[Turnbull comes out of a room, dressed only in his boxers, t-shirt, and socks (with garters), carrying uniform; visitors gasp, and Turnbull looks embarrassed, salutes]
[stakeout]
Dewey:
Abmaster.
Huey: Maybe.
Dancercize.
Dewey:
Dancercize.
Huey:
Treadmill.
Dewey: Free
weights.
Huey:
Aerobics.
Dewey: Step
machine.
Huey:
Stationary bike.
[meanwhile, Kowalski leaves, dressed as a Mountie]
[street]
[Fraser helps elderly lady
cross]
Man in
wheelchair: Excuse me, young man.
[a blue van pulls up, and the man pulls out a shotgun]
Man in
wheelchair
: Get in or I shoot the dog!
[Fraser is pulled
into the van, which speeds away; Dief chases after the
van]
[garage]
[Mountie is dragged in by two thugs; he is tied onto a
chair beside
Fraser]
Fraser:
Evening, Ray.
Ray: Hello,
Fraser.
Fraser: It’s
not a bad fit, all in all.
Ray: Arms are a
bit long.
Fraser: You can
always have them altered.
Ray: I know a
good tailor.
Herrndorf: If I
were you, if I had this heat on me, I’d be in some deep
hole right now, not out parading in a red suit.
Ray: I came to
make you a deal, Eddie.
Herrndorf: Make
me a deal?
[chuckles]
The whole town’s out looking for who
whacked Volpe – you – and you’re going to make me a deal.
Funny guy.
Ray: Come on, I
didn’t kill Volpe. I’m a cop.
Herrndorf: Oh
yeah, I forgot. That would be illegal.
Ray: It was
Fillion, we both know that. You help me, I’ll nail
him.
Herrndorf: Hey.
You do your job. I’ll do mine.
[thug pulls gun on
Kowalski]
Ray: Oh, so,
you’re going to kill a cop now, Eddie, is that it? Do you
know what happens when you kill a cop? They hound you to
your grave, Eddie. They’ll hound you beyond your
graaaaa--- [falls
over]
Fraser: I don’t
think we have to worry, Ray. I don’t think Mr. Herrndorf
intends to kill us. There are three-- No, make that four
police cruisers traveling towards us on Michigan Avenue at
approximately 122 kilometers an hour. No, I believe that
Mr. Herrndorf intends to turn us over to the police.
Herrndorf: You
got good ears, Red.
Fraser: Thank
you.
Herrndorf: Oh,
uh, and Ray? You know, I really think you’re going to
enjoy prison. Let’s go.
[they
exit]
Ray: I’m not
going to jail. The food...the conversation...sexual
hijinks. I can’t handle it.
Fraser: You may
not have to, Ray. I think help is on its way.
Ray: Oh yeah?
In what form?
Fraser:
Diefenbaker. I think he followed me.
Ray:
Yeah? Come
on... Come on! Dief!
Fraser:
Ray.
Ray:
Dief!
Fraser:
Ray.
Ray:
Dief!
Fraser:
Ray!
Ray:
What?
Fraser: It’s
pointless to yell. As you know, he’s deaf. We’ll just have
to wait for him to find us.
[pause]
Ray: I’m not
that good at waiting.
Fraser: Just be
patient.
[pause]
Ray
: I mean, I’m really not that good at waiting.
Fraser:
Shhh.
[pause]
Ray: I was
three weeks premature. What does that tell you?
Fraser: Here he
comes.
Ray: Hey, come
on, boy. Come on, come on.
[Dief arrives & licks him]
Ray
: Hey, hey, I think he likes me.
Fraser: He
likes the pizza. [in
Inuktitut to Dief, sounds like “savik atoonat”]
Ray: Huh?
Fraser: It’s
Inuktitut. It’s a slightly less complex language, easier
for him to read.
Ray: What does
it mean?
Fraser: It
means ‘fetch the knife from the hood of that car and apply
it to the ties that bind
us.’ Come
on.
Ray: Come
on.
[Dief gets the knife & puts it in Fraser’s hands;
Fraser cuts his ropes... sirens are
approaching]
Fraser:
[in Inuktitut,
sounds like “waveena loohk oohlanya kooteet, nooka tahla
loohkteeloo, kee syal tee kyoo teekooveet, eek seey
malveet, teeaavamet, kahn nooeekoo matet”]
Ray:
Meaning?
[Fraser cuts through Kowalski’s
ropes]
Fraser:
Hide.
[cops pour in and fan
out]
Voices: Let’s
go! Come on! Over here! Check those stairs! Go up the
stairwell! Over here!
Kilrea: Search
every inch! See if somebody can find a light! Let’s go!
Two guys in red suits, people, how hard could it
be?
[Fraser & Kowalski are hanging from rafters... Dief is
under a
workbench]
Fraser:
[whispers] (You
all right?)
Ray:
[strained]
(Good.)
[cops
searching]
Fraser: (You
sure?)
Ray:
[strained,
shaky]
(Pants are itchy.)
Fraser. (Yeah,
yeah. You know, Ray, I once spent 13 hours hanging like
this underneath a suspension bridge, with a mountain cat
swiping at me from above. She tore my lanyard, ripped my
epaulet, oh!)
[chuckles]
Ray:
[very
shaky]
(And? What happened?)
Fraser: (Well,
fortunately the nuns at Fort McLeod, they practice
invisible
mending.
Shh-shh-shh)
[Kowalski sputters with
effort]
Officer: The
place is clean.
Kilrea: All
right, let’s get out of here.
[cops all
leave]
Fraser: (I knew
you could do it!)
Ray:
[squeak]
(Thank you.)
[Kowalski drops from ceiling into convertible, head first]
[darkened
consulate]
[door bell rings, knock knock knock; lights come on &
Fraser goes to front
door]
Fraser: Ah,
Leftenant Welsh, nice to see you.
Welsh: Nice to
see you, Fraser.
[pause]
You gonna let me stand out here all
night?
Fraser: Oh, I’m
sorry. Come in, please.
Welsh: We got
to talk.
Fraser: Well,
let’s use my office then.
[Welsh heads into
first
door] Oh,
sir, sorry, it’s this way.
Welsh: It’s
this guy Cahill.
[heads to door
across the way]
Fraser: Sir,
um, it’s a little further back. It’s, uh, just through
here.
[they try to go through the doorway at the same
time]
Welsh: Excuse
me.
[Kowalski comes out of third door, in bare
feet]
Fraser:
[voice]
Ray, would you care to join us?
[Fraser’s office; boxes stacked to the ceiling]
Fraser
: Leftenant Welsh was just informing me that Assistant
State’s Attorney Cahill has filed a special request with
our Department of External Affairs to expedite your
extradition.
Ray: Uh-huh.
Uh, come again?
Welsh: It means
that at 9 a.m. tomorrow morning, they’re going to come in
and yank your ass out of here.
[to
Fraser]
You spend all day here?
Fraser: I go
out for lunch.
Ray: Look,
Lieutenant, I am telling you, I had nothing to do with
that murder.
Welsh: I
believe you.
Ray: You
do.
Welsh: We know
there’s a rat in major crime. He must have been leaking to
Volpe because no matter what we threw at Volpe, he was
able to walk. [to
Fraser]
There must be twenty rooms in this house. Why’d you pick
this one?
Fraser: The
others are much less intimate.
Ray: It’s
Kilrea. You check his arrest stats. He’s dirty, I’m
telling you. Um, Herrndorf turns me in, who does he call?
His little buddy, Kilrea.
Fraser: Was
Kilrea on the firing range the morning you
qualified?
Ray: I don’t
know.
Welsh: That’d
be easy enough to check out.
Fraser: What
about the officer at the scene of the shooting. Tibbet.
Has anyone spoken to her?
Welsh: IA told
us to butt out.
Ray: That is
one sick puppy. She needs a Valium the size of a
cheeseburger.
[gym; boxing
ring]
[Tibbet is sparring with male boxer, who is struggling to
keep
up]
Tibbet: I am
sick and tired of people telling me that I am uptight. I’m
not uptight. I’m alert. There is a difference between
being uptight and alert.
Fraser: I
couldn’t agree with you more.
Tibbet: Do you
think society wants laid-back cops? I don’t think so.
We’re in a war out there, and I’m on the front line. Hey!
No street shoes in the gym.
Fraser: I
anticipated as much. That’s why I’ve taken precautions.
[hikes leg onto top
rope, to show that scrubs cover his
boots]
Now, I’m curious. Didn’t Detective Vecchio identify
himself as a police officer?
Tibbet: Anyone
can say that. You drop your guard for a second, and they
drop you.
Fraser: Officer
Tibbet, I am quite sure that Detective Vecchio did not
shoot Mr. Volpe. Now, it would help my investigation
enormously if you could tell me exactly what you
saw.
Tibbet: Look, I
knew something was gonna go down in that alley.
Fraser:
Instinct?
Tibbet: No.
Phone call. Yeah, I was on edge, but I wasn’t as much on
edge as I was the last time.
Fraser: The
last time?
Tibbet: Yeah,
when I shot the kid. I
was exonerated,
you know. Big deal. I know what they say. ‘She’s a woman.
A woman can’t take the pressure of the
job.’ Well
that’s a load of crap! I’d be just as ready to snap if I
were a man!
Fraser: I’m
sure you would.
Tibbet: What,
you don’t believe me?
Fraser: Oh, no,
I’m sure you’re quite capable of snapping, regardless of
your sex. [sponges
water over boxer’s head]
Now, this
telephone call you say that you received. Do you know who
it was from?
Tibbet: Nah, he
didn’t say. [Fraser
whispers something to
boxer] But
I know I recognized the voice. A guy. I met him a couple
of times. Worked for Damon
Cahill.
[Tibbet knocks guy out with a roundhouse
right]
[bell
rings]
Fraser: Oh.
You’re a switch hitter.
[to boxer, in a heap
in the
corner] My
mistake.
[stakeout]
Dewey: Another
pizza?
Huey:
Definitely working out. Maybe in the pool.
Dewey:
Mm-hmm.
Huey: Thirty
laps a day at least.
Dewey: Could be
aerobics.
Huey: I’m
starving. [to
Sandor]
Hey, buddy! [flashes
badge]
C’mere.
[consulate]
Ray: Look, I’m
not paying for their pizza. That’s thievery. And there’s
no pineapple.
Sandor: Hey, no
one tells Tony how to make pizza, all right? He left
Russia to be free.
Fraser: I think
it’s quite tasty.
Ray: Like your
favorite toppings aren’t blubber and lichen.
Fraser: Kilrea
was on the range yesterday, but this is interesting. He
wasn’t supposed to be there. He qualified the day
before.
Ray:
[on
phone]
Yeah, thank you.
[hangs
up] J.P.
Tibbet shot a kid last year when she was working for the
organized crime task force.
Sandor: I was
having a drink the other night with this guy, definitely
OC, a big talker, real big mouth, right? He’s talking
about how Fillion brought him in on this big job. Now
here’s the kicker. He had this real stinky painting with
him. Said Fillion had gave it to him. It was like a
rottweiler playing poker with his friends or
something.
Fraser:
Fillion.
Ray: Fillion.
Herrndorf. Cahill. Kilrea. Huh, got the makings of a
bonspiel. [lowers
head in defeat]
Fraser: What’s
wrong?
Ray: I just
made a curling reference. I’m gonna go lay down.
[exits]
[Sandor clears
throat]
Fraser: Oh.
Payment.
Sandor: That’d
be nice. In U.S. bills, if you please.
[Dief barks
firmly]
Fraser:
Excuse me. I’ll be right back.
[hallway]
Ray: Come on!
Stupid dog, stupid dog, stupid--
[Dief is blocking
the door,
growling]
Get out of the way. Come on!
Fraser: Ray.
Where are you going?
Ray: Hey, I
can’t wait around for Cahill and his goons to show up and
arrest me. I got to do something.
Fraser: Do
what, Ray? And where? Everyone in the city on both sides
of the law is looking for you.
Ray: Well,
yeah, that may be, but I gotta do something.
Fraser: Yes,
you do. You have to trust me.
Ray: Trust you,
Fraser? I don’t even know if I trust me. You know, I don’t
think I whacked Volpe. But I can’t remember details. That
might have been my finger on the trigger.
Fraser: You
didn’t shoot that man.
Ray: How do you
know? How do you know? How can you be so sure?
Fraser: Because
I know you. You’re my partner. And you’re my friend.
[pause]
Ray
: Was that hard to say?
Fraser: Not in
the least.
Ray: Are you
going to call your dog off?
Fraser: I’m
afraid I can’t do that. Come on. Let’s go watch some
curling.
[outside consulate; cops & reporters
everywhere]
Cahill:
[to
Kilrea]
You got the papers?
Kilrea: Oh,
yeah.
Cahill: All
right, men, follow me.
Reporter:
[to
cameraman]
Make sure you keep him in the frame.
[Cahill puts on lip
balm]
Cahill
: Okay, let’s do it.
Reporter: This
is Shelley Byron reporting live from the steps of the
Canadian
consulate.
[inside]
Cahill on TV:
As you know, as state prosecutor I have been concerned for
some years about the level of corruption in our city and
particularly within our police force. So keep your lenses
clean and watch this.
[Fraser opens the
front door just as Cahill goes to knock]
Fraser
: Ah. Good morning.
Cahill: I have
a signed order here for the extradition of Raymond
Vecchio.
Fraser: Yes,
certainly. Won’t you please come in.
Turnbull:
Excuse me, sir.
[scans him with
metal detector]
Cahill:
What?
Turnbull:
You’re fine. [moves
to Kilrea]
[*beep*]
Turnbull: I’m
terribly sorry, sir, but firearms are not permitted on the
premises.
Kilrea: What
the hell is he talking about?
Fraser: We have
very strict gun laws here in Canada. Now, I don’t make the
rules, I simply enforce them. But I took an oath very
similar to the one you gentlemen took, I should imagine.
Without the references to the Queen, of course.
[crowd stands before
the desk, as Turnbull checks the weapons]
Turnbull
: Ooh, sir. A two-tone Baretta, model 92, 9 millimeter, 11
rounds in the magazine, sporting a muzzle velocity of
2,000 feet per second. Very nice.
Fraser: Very
nice indeed.
Turnbull: Thank
you. Enjoy the show.
[Fraser tears off ticket and hands it to
officer]
Fraser: Thank
you kindly.
[outside; Thatcher
arrives in a taxi and looks around in shock]
Officer: I’m
sorry, ma’am. You can’t go in there.
Thatcher:
That’s my building.
Officer:
Ma’am?
Thatcher: And
none of these cars are properly parked.
Officer: Ma’am?
Ma’am?
[Thatcher pulls off her sunglasses to reveal sunglasses-shaped sunburn on her face]
[inside; Thatcher’s
office, crowded full with people]
Fraser: Andreas
Volpe was a man who made a lot of enemies. One of those
enemies killed him. The question is, which one? I brought
you all together here to help answer that question. Was it
Eddie Herrndorf, a ruthless competitor, a man whose role
he was trying to usurp?
Herrndorf: I
don’t have to listen to this.
[goes to leave, but
Kowalski blocks his exit]
Fraser: Perhaps
it was Mr. Fillion. Mr. Fillion claims that he was
receiving information from Mr. Volpe. Perhaps that
information was costing too much.
Fillion: You’re
a smart guy, Mountie. Doesn’t pay to get too smart.
Fraser: Ah,
well, maybe that was Mr. Volpe’s problem. Maybe he was too
smart. He certainly had information. But where was he
getting it from? Maybe it was from his contact in the
Justice Department. Someone who was offering him the
protection of his office in exchange for information
relating to criminal activity.
Cahill:
[chuckling]
Are you suggesting I was leaking to
Volpe?
Fraser: I don’t
recall mentioning your name, Mr. Cahill.
Cahill: I don’t
see anyone else in here fitting that description.
Fraser: Or
maybe it was a cop
[looking right at
Kilrea] a man who had made a deal with the devil, but
had decided that Mr. Volpe was a liability and not an
asset. Fortunately, we don’t need to speculate any more.
The killer was not alone in that alley. There was a
witness to the murder. A witness too afraid to come
forward, but who has placed a sworn affidavit in this
envelope which was delivered to me.
Cahill: That is
evidence in an ongoing criminal investigation! Give it to
me right now or I’ll have you arrested for obstruction of
justice!
Fraser:
Certainly. Let me open it first.
Cahill:
[grabs the paper
harshly]
This is evidence! I have--
Fraser: It is,
in point of fact, a blank piece of paper. But one that has
proved quite revealing.
Voice: Excuse
me, Miss?
Thatcher : Get your hands off of me! [bursts into the room]
[Cahill retrieves his boot gun & holds it on Thatcher,
taking her
hostage]
Fraser: What
are you going to do? There are millions of people
watching.
Cahill: It
didn’t hurt
O.J. Try to
follow me, I’ll kill her.
[they exit out of front
door]
Thatcher:
Didn’t I meet you at the Chilean consulate party?
Fraser: Cahill!
I’m going to count to three. One.
Cahill: Wait a
minute. I’ve got the gun here!
Fraser:
Two.
Cahill: What
have you got?
Thatcher:
Me!
[she elbows Cahill in the gut, and flips him to the
ground]
Fraser: First
off, sir, may I just say that your time at the spa seems
to have done wonders for your muscle tone and reflexes.
The sunburn, on the other hand, if I could
recommend...
[lobby; general confusion as Turnbull tries to return weapons]
Turnbull
: No-no-no, gentlemen, if we could do this in an
orderly....No-no-no, don’t....The ticket has to match
the....No, sir, that is not the....The ticket has to match
the...
[sigh]
[outside
consulate]
Thatcher:
Fraser, I will expect your report to be on my desk by 0900
hours, and if your explanation isn’t satisfactory, you can
expect to be transferred to Baffin Island.
Fraser:
Understood, sir.
Thatcher:
Detective.
Ray:
[husky]
Call me...Ray.
[Thatcher gives Fraser a ‘look’ then exits]
[Robert Fraser’s
office; a strange man is sitting in Dad’s
rocker]
Fraser: Excuse
me, um. You are--
Joe
: Joe.
Fraser: And you
would be...
Joe:
Dead.
Fraser: And my
father is...
Joe:
Fishing.
Fraser: I see.
Well, could you just, uh. Well, tell him I stopped by. Oh,
and, uh, could you tell him it, uh...
Joe: It
worked?
Fraser: Yes.
Thank you
kindly.
<Doo Mah>
End