12 Rounds: Reloaded Page #3

---

- Get in. Stay put.

- But that...

- Yeah.

Hey, that looks like my tattoo.

We're definitely in the right place.

Come on.

- So, what are you looking for?

- I don't know, a clue.

You want a clue? Here's a clue:

you're f***in' crazy, man.

- A clue to the next round.

- The next round.

- The clue to round five.

- Round five.

Oh, no, no, no, dude,

I am not into that.

Five fingers. Round five.

There's something in here.

What the hell is that?

I don't know,

it looks like coordinates.

Let's see.

Let's see, it's GPS.

Uh... Four-nine-one-two-oh-eight.

One-five-two-eight.

Enter. OK, come on. Come on!

Corner of Sherwood and Grant.

Hang on.

Come on. Hey, no, no,

please don't hurt me!

OK, let's see it.

All right, I cued it up

to when they find the bike.

That's great, this is a lot of help.

Scroll ahead.

Stop. Play it from here.

See, now what kind of an EM leaves his patient to take a call?

- Maybe it's important.

- Or convenient.

Stepping out right before it explodes?

- Let's find out who he's talking to.

- Yeah, I'm on it.

Well, that's Malloy.

At least now we know who the corpse isn't.

Do you see that?

The way he's looking at the camera?

Yeah. That's right, buddy,

smile for the camera.

That's not it.

That doesn't look like someone

who just blew up his own ambulance.

It does if he knows

he's being filmed.

Right there. He did it again.

No, it's like he's looking

at whoever he's talking to.

Like... the camera's watching him.

Check the signal, see if it's being tapped

- by any outside sources.

- Yeah, no problem.

You're serious?

One second.

Sykes.

Yeah. We'll be right there.

Someone fitting Malloy's description

just trashed a motel in Chinatown

and abducted one of their guests.

- Nice work.

- Thanks.

OK, here we go.

Monroe, do you want

to get on that? Make the call.

- Look, man, if this is about money...

- Is that what this is about, money?

That is why you kidnapped me, right?

- I didn't kidnap you.

- Really?

That's not what it looks like

from where I'm sitting!

I mean, what other

reason would there be?

I don't know, you tell me.

Wait, wait, I'm supposed to tell you

why you kidnapped...

Look, I didn't want to do any of this.

I didn't have a choice.

- I don't want money.

- Then what do you want?

I don't want anything, all right?

The guy that called your motel room

is behind all of this.

He's already killed one person,

he's threatened my wife,

and he won't stop

unless I play his crazy game.

And what does that

have to do with me?

I don't know yet.

But there has to be a connection.

Hey, hold on.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a minute.

You hear that beeping?

- That's my locator.

- Locator?

Yeah. I'm on parole, b*tch.

Which I just violated because of you.

So thanks a lot, a**hole.

What are you on parole for?

Congratulations, Nick.

That's another one in your column.

And we are almost at the halfway point.

Very exciting.

- Who is that?

- Ah! Tommy, Tommy, Tommy.

Welcome to the game.

Now, I am sure your new best friend

has filled you in on the details.

And, Nick, I don't know if you've noticed,

but Tommy is wearing

an electronic tracking bracelet.

Now, because you've been

following the rules,

I'm gonna give you a little help.

I have blocked the signal

to Tommy's anklet,

so the police can't find you... yet.

We wouldn't want to end our fun

so soon, now, would we, boys?

But... let me leave you both

with a little reminder.

Are you the lead on scene?

- Yes, I am.

- What's going on?

- In position.

- Yes, sir.

We're missing something. We got to be.

He said 12 rounds. Why 12?

- I don't know, man.

- There has to be a connection.

Your anklet, why are you on parole?

It was a... a DUI.

Stupid mistake.

I got out two days ago.

And you don't think

that's a coincidence?

Man, I told you, I don't know

what any of this sh*t is about.

- Maybe someone you knew in prison?

- I wasn't in prison, I was in rehab.

- That was money well spent.

- Hey, I was celebrating.

And besides, you don't look like you're

doing too bad, driving a car like this.

Hey, f*** you. This isn't my car.

- Well, whose car is it?

- I don't know.

Why don't you check the glove box,

see if there's any registration in there.

The owner is Roberta Shaw.

Do you know her?

No. You?

Yeah, I do.

That was my lawyer.

Tell me we just got really lucky

and it failed to go off.

It's deactivated. Get this,

Malloy told the clerk about it.

Told him to call the cops.

So we're dealing with the politest

domestic terrorist ever?

Car is registered

to a Donald Perlmutter.

Lives out in the suburbs,

in one of those gated communities.

We're still trying to reach him.

Hey. Jensen.

- We all set?

- Yeah?

You were right,

that traffic cam was being tapped.

- By whom?

- Uh, we don't know that.

It's been encrypted.

Yeah, guys, the truth is, this signal's

being rerouted all over the place.

We can't trace it. Whoever's doing this

clearly doesn't want us to find him.

That sound like something

an EMT could do to you?

- Guy's got to have a hobby.

- Figure it out.

Give me that briefcase back there.

It's starting to ring a bell here.

I think I remember...

All right.

Man, what am I supposed to be looking for?

The scales.

- What?

- The scales.

What about it?

When he first called,

he said something about scales.

That they were out of whack,

and I had to help him rebalance them.

I thought he was rambling.

But, um... maybe not.

Why don't you give her a call.

- Keypad right there, on the dash.

- Yeah, I got it, I got it.

- You hear that?

- Yeah.

- Dude, that... that's inside this car.

- Well, find it.

There's nothing here, man.

It's not in here.

- It's got to be.

- Not... it's not in the car, though.

Hey, hold on.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a minute.

- What are you waiting for, man?

- Whoa, whoa. This guy likes bombs.

Trust me.

Jesus!

Why is the car stopped, Nick?

What, you decided to quit on me?

- You see any cameras?

- What?

Let's look for cameras.

- Where'd you go, Nick?

- Uh... Kid's got a real small bladder.

- Had to take a piss.

- Hey! Don't you mess with me, Nick.

I don't care if that kid pisses himself,

you get back in the car.

The kid Malloy took was registered

under the name Iggy Pop.

Yeah, well, it's not exactly

the kind of place you use your real name.

Mmm. Paid in cash, too.

OK, I want to know

everything about Malloy.

See if there's a connection. Some reason

he'd have a grudge against this kid.

- Still think he's innocent?

- Put out an APB on Malloy.

Consider him armed and dangerous.

I want him found.

- Right away.

- See what you can find out about her.

- Get your hands off me.

- Take it easy.

OK.

- You got her?

- I'm ready. Thanks.

Uh... I'm just gonna ask

you a few questions.

Sarah. Oh, my God. Baby?

- It's not her.

- That's her.

- It's not her.

- That's her.

- What's going on?

- I don't know.

That's a lie. You know something!

This can't be random.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes