Collateral Page #5

This guy, he's shooting tight

groups too, all right? Check this out.

Double taps are a couple

millimetres apart.

Let's see this one.

See what I mean?

- Holy sh*t. Can I use your phone?

- Yeah.

Come on, come on, wake up.

- Hello.

- Hey, it's Fanning.

I'm still down here at the morgue

at Sisters of Charity.

The John Does didn't pan out,

but you'll never guess

- who I got here in the meat locker.

- Who?

Sylvester Clarke, criminal attorney

turned lawyer-criminal.

Including Ramone,

who he represented,

who's still missing.

The both of whom are in the

exotic-substances business together.

There's something going on,

and I don't think the feds

know about it.

Tell you what, stay on your cell phone.

I got the ASAC's phone. I'll hook up

- with you in 30 minutes.

- Good.

You're gonna go to a place

called El Rodeo.

It's on Washington Boulevard

in Pico Rivera.

- Where at on Washington?

- Look it up.

Limos, huh?

Don't start.

Hey, I'm not the one

lying to my mother.

She hears what she wants to hear.

I don't disillusion her.

Yeah, right. Maybe she hears

what you tell her.

Whatever I tell her is never

good enough anyway.

It's always been that way.

- So, what's at El Rodeo?

- Just drive.

They project onto you their flaws.

What they don't like about themselves,

their lives, whatever.

They rank on you instead.

- How do you know?

- I had a father like that.

Mothers are worse.

Wouldn't know. My mother died

before I remember.

What happened to your father?

Hated everything I did.

Got drunk, beat me up, foster homes.

Went back with him. Like that.

Then what?

I killed him.

I was 12.

I'm kidding.

He died of liver disease.

- Well, I'm sorry.

- No, you're not.

So, what is this "driving a cab

temporarily"? It's just all bullshit, huh?

- It is not bullshit.

- Twelve years isn't temporary, Max.

Gotta get the cash together.

Insurance, bonds, maintenance, tires.

Gotta staff up,

get the right client list.

It's not just simply get the car

and put asses in the seats.

- Why not?

- Because Island Limos

is more than just a ride. It's a...

Like a club experience. Cool groove.

Don't want it to end.

It's gotta be perfect.

Perfect.

It's up here. Turn right.

- Give me your wallet. Come on.

- Give you my wallet. For what?

I'll hold it for you in case

the people inside search you.

- Who's searching?

- The people inside.

Go in, ask for Felix.

He's expecting you.

- Felix.

- Yeah.

- What does he look like?

- I don't know, I've never met him.

Who is he?

He's connected to the guys

who hired me.

- I don't get it.

- You destroyed my workups.

Number four's due.

What'd you think, night's over?

Called on account of rain?

You go in there, say you're me.

Score the backups.

They'll be on flash drive or CD.

- Me? How come you don't go?

- I don't meet people.

Risk management. Anonymity. I protect

mine. You're not gonna screw that up.

I got a contract with their bosses.

These guys don't get to meet me.

They don't know what I look like.

If I don't pull it off, then...

They will kill you.

Now, you got ten minutes.

At 10:
01, I drive to the hospital

and execute your mother

on my way out of town.

- And don't pretend indifference.

- I can't do this.

- I can't.

- What are you talking about?

Sure you can, man.

Come on. Hey. Hey.

Look, man, if I do this, I'm just gonna

end up getting other people killed.

Out of options, Max. Just take comfort

in knowing you never had a choice.

- How long you been doing this?

- Why?

Just in case they ask me.

- Private sector, six years.

- Okay. All right, six years.

You get benefits? Or, you know,

like, insurance? Pension?

No. No paid sick leave.

Quit stalling. Get out of the cab.

- Yeah? Hold up.

- Hold on, man.

Who is this?

Mark the time.

All right, it's cool.

- What's up, homes?

- Hey. What's up?

I'm here to see Felix.

He has something for me.

Don't know no Felix.

Tell him...

Vince... Say it's Vincent.

I'm Vincent.

Copy.

Let him in. Let him in right now.

Go ahead.

Detective Richard Weidner, L.A.P.D.,

Major Narcotics Division.

Detective Ray Fanning,

- L.A.P.D., Major Narcotics.

- Hi, okay. Agent Frank Pedrosa.

Good. Thanks for seeing us, Frank.

Yeah, you're welcome.

How can I help?

Why do you wanna know

about our case?

- Any unusual activity tonight?

- Like what?

That relates to a murder

or a series of murders

in Wilshire Central

or West Hollywood?

All quiet on the western front.

Various people are asleep.

Various people are not.

They come and go in cars,

pickups, taxis.

Other than that, we watch air move.

- Your interest in our case?

- Well, our interest...

We got a situation. Two bodies.

Could be a coincidence, could not be

a coincidence. It doesn't look like one.

- We got an attorney and his client...

- Roof's all beat to sh*t.

Roof's all beat to sh*t.

- Can you zoom in on this, please?

- On what?

On that.

- Look at that right there.

- What is it?

Yeah. 5-Queen-49974.

I thought you'd be taller.

So, Vincent...

- What are the two names?

- Ramone Ayala and Clarke.

Are you telling me Ramone Ayala

and Clarke were murdered tonight?

- Both killed?

- Sylvester Clarke for sure.

- Ramone, I don't know.

- I got another DOA.

Daniel Baker out of South Central,

Leimert Park.

That's three.

- Three what?

- Witnesses.

"Vincent meet their people

in Culiacn or Cartagena.

But he don't meet you." Okay.

Now you're here.

Why?

I lost my stuff.

The list.

I want you to listen to me real well.

Special groups put together

the list of dedos.

- Dedos?

- Fingers. Informants.

Signal interceptions with

voice-recognition software,

surveillance.

A very expensive counterintelligence

worked up that list.

An important list. Wouldn't you say?

And you lost it?

Yeah.

I'm sorry.

Sorry.

Sorry? Sorry does not put

Humpty Dumpty back together again.

- Do you believe in Humpty Dumpty?

- No.

- Do you believe in Santa Claus?

- No.

Nor do I. Nor do I, but my children do.

They are still small.

But do you know who they like even

better than Santa Claus? His helper,

Pedro el Negro. Black Peter. Yeah.

There's an old Mexican tale

that tells of how Santa Claus

got so very busy looking out

for the good children

that he had to hire some help

to look out for the bad children.

So he hired Pedro.

And Santa Claus gave him a list

with all the names

of all the bad children.

And Pedro would come every night

to check them out.

And the people, the little kids

that were misbehaving,

that were not saying their prayers,

Pedro would leave a little toy donkey

on their windows.

A little burro.

And he would come back. And if

the children were still misbehaving,

Pedro would take them away,

and nobody would ever

see them again.

Now, if I am being Santa Claus,

and you are Pedro,

how do you think jolly old

Santa Claus would feel

if one day Pedro came into his office

and said, "I lost the list"?

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