Gangster Squad Page #5

JERRY:

Hey, Mickey. Anybody home?

COHEN:
(OVER RADIO)

Karl, I wanna take a look at that property.

- That bakery down near Boyle Heights.

KARL:
You got it, Mickey.

JERRY:
Hi.

O'MARA:
You heard anything?

KEELER:
Apparently, Johnny Stomp's

balling Lana Turner.

Sinatra sounds pretty sore about it.

Judge Carter is a world-class whoremonger

and Mickey takes good care of him.

O'MARA:

Figures.

KEELER:
Those are the locations of some of the

books around town.

There must be a ton of them.

He's building something.

I don't know what it is yet.

O'MARA:

Okay, well, we gotta find it.

No. Don't touch that.

O'MARA:

Get some grub.

You got something to tell me, Romeo?

It's nothing.

It didn't look like nothing.

HARRIS:

What the hell is this?

Hey, guys, guys. I just heard

something about a heroin shipment. Shh.

O'MARA:
Let me hear. Let me hear.

KEELER:
Here.

(INDISTINCT DIALOGUE ON HEADSET)

- I can't hear it, Con. Turn it up.

- Well, it's up all the way.

- I can't hear anything.

- I think they're leaving the room.

- Oh, come on.

- Yeah, they left the room.

Sh*t.

- Where. We need to know where.

KEELER:
I don't know. I'll keep listening.

HARRIS:
I know a guy who can tell us.

- Who?

Old friend from the neighborhood.

Unh!

Cohen's got some medicine coming.

Where's he bringing it in?

I don't know! Aah!

- Don't lie to me, boy.

DEL-RED:
Wait, wait!

Harris, they'll kill me.

Not if you leave town, they won't.

Now, start talking.

Burbank Airport, Friday night.

HARRIS:
You sure?

- Yes!

HARRIS:

All right. Get your ass out of here. Damn.

I can't believe we going back to Burbank.

O'MARA:

That stuff is Mickey's poison.

We shut it down, we take away

his best weapon.

(MEN SPEAKING INDISTINCTLY)

COP:

Let me get that for you, sir.

GRIMES:

We good?

All right, let's go.

Come on.

JERRY:
Let's just wait until they get over

the river into L.A.

I think we've worn out our welcome

with the Burbank P.D.

Forget it, let's take them now.

Looks like we picked up

a couple of ticks.

Let's burn them off the road.

KEELER:

Sh*t!

Oh, my God!

HARRIS:

Everybody get down!

Hold on to your hats, boys!

KEELER:

Ah! Jesus Christ!

KENNARD:

Take them out!

Ah!

RAMIREZ:

You're giving them a clear shot!

- All right, that's it!

- Where the hell is he going?

RAMIREZ:

Get out of the way!

What the hell's he doing?

RAMIREZ:

Move over!

GRIMES:

Where the hell did he go?

- You see him?

- No, sir!

GRIMES:

Damn it, you see him?

Jesus!

Oh, sh*t!

KEELER:

What the hell is that?

Sh*t!

Jesus Christ!

John, back off! Back off!

Grenade! Sh*t!

O'MARA:

Grab it!

HARRIS:

Hit him harder!

All right, hang on.

Unh! Son of a b*tch. No!

KEELER:

Okay.

KENNARD:

Closer, Navidad!

Sh*t.

(GRUNTING)

KENNARD:

Let's go, hoss.

- Where do you want them?

O'MARA:
Right here.

Who the hell are you?

You don't know what you done, pal.

You think he's gonna laugh this off?

He will hunt you down.

- That's not your problem anymore. You hear me?

- Ah!

- Whoa, whoa, whoa.

- You have their wallets? What are their names?

Edgar Beaumont and Jeffrey Clark.

We know who you are.

You used to run dope for Mickey Cohen.

You're retired.

(BEAUMONT SCREAMS)

(GRUNTING)

Let's get out of here.

You really wanna win this thing,

or you wanna die trying?

Don't get me wrong, I love shooting gangsters

in the legs just as much as the next guy.

But we're gonna have to be smarter

next time.

Playing hot potato with a grenade

isn't much of a strategy.

We got really lucky.

If we keep going head-on at him like this,

we're not gonna make it more than a week.

It worked, Jerry.

Get in the car.

Mr. Cohen, sir. I.... The, uh....

Someone hit the shipment.

I'm sorry.

Who hit the shipment?

Guineas from back East.

Maybe Russo's people.

- I don't know.

COHEN:
Hm.

Maybe Russo's people.

Well....

These things happen.

- Tsk.

GRIMES:
Thank you, Mr. Cohen.

COHEN:

Karl.

You know the drill.

GRIMES:

No! No! Karl, no!

Hey, Karl! No!

- I'm begging you!

KARL:
You stupid bastard.

GRIMES:

This ain't right! This ain't right! Aah!

(KITTY DAISY & LEWIS' "A LITTLE BIRD

TOLD ME" PLAYING OVER SPEAKERS)

Fallin' for no one but you

There's no use denying

I might as well confess

CONNIE:
Come in.

- Mrs. O'Mara?

Please, Connie.

Jerry Wooters. Nice to meet you.

Nice to meet you too. What'd you bring?

Bear claws.

JERRY:

Uh....

Congratulations. I didn't....

Thank you. John didn't tell you?

No, he didn't.

- Where is that guy?

- Out back.

Okay.

This little bird told me when we marry

Jerry?

Yeah?

I know. What kind of a guy would take on

a job like this with his wife in my condition?

That kind of guy.

My husband's the bravest man I know

but he is not much for abstract thinking.

Honor and duty are as real as I am.

So if it comes down to a choice

between his life and his duty...

You want me to push him

in the right direction?

- Can I shove him in the right direction?

- Heh.

That's why I picked you. You seem sensible.

Well, that's a nice way to put it.

I handpicked all of you guys,

except the Mexican kid.

- I don't know where you found him.

- I don't know where he came from either.

Take that out?

John's a lucky guy, Connie.

HARRIS:

Look, you know what?

You should get your wife a Cadillac.

How's your love life these days?

HARRIS:

Your wife deserves a Cadillac.

You're driving a Studebaker, you should

buy yourself a Cadillac. It's a nice car.

You don't get cars like that too often.

You know, Jerry, one of these nights

she's just gonna get bored.

Scared.

Or he'll give her a rock and she'll

just roll on us in a fit of gratitude.

Or he'll just find out she's got

a new swain and that's not good.

With all due respect, sarge, you don't

know a goddamn thing about her.

Gentlemen.

I would congratulate you

on a job well done.

But then I was never here.

Cohen has already organized a dragnet.

He has his people inside the department...

...hunting for the gang

that hit his drug shipment.

It's only a matter of time until

he realizes you're cops.

We need to step up our timetable here,

sergeant.

We need to offer Cohen no quarter.

I'm not a quarter kind of guy, sir.

Neither am I.

MAN:

Unh!

Get out!

(INDISTINCT DIALOGUE)

O'MARA:

Over there.

Telephones, wires. Hey, hey.

You are dead, pal. You are all dea...

Yeah, we get that a lot.

Find these bastards.

Kill them all.

Kill their families.

Their kids.

Their dogs. Their cats.

They're on the scent of El Dorado Trust.

We cannot let that happen.

Do you understand me?

KEELER:

El Dorado Trust.

It's an A-bomb.

It's Mickey Cohen's pride and joy.

The whole reason he killed

Tommy Russo...

...was to take over his

Continental Wire service...

...which means Cohen's got the only wire

between here and Chicago.

He's building the central book

for the entire western United States.

Wait, what's the central book?

All gambling money on the West Coast

will go through a central book...

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