Haven Page #6

One day some friends, and friends of friends,

come along and say to him...

"Would you mind very much

looking after some money for me?"

Paid cash for his trouble.

And, uh, then, of course,

he needs someone...

to help him introduce the cash into

the banking system here- invest it, hide it.

Eh?

So that's it.

We all get little droppings.

Putting a clean face on dirty money.

Dad, do you-

do you not like what you do?

I'm looking for the prospectus

for the condo property.

Uh, I must have left it

back in the office, sir.

Yeah, I bring you to Miami

for two f***ing hours.

You bring a roller case full of f***-knows-what

and forget the most important-

Allen.

Welcome to Florida.

- Good to see you.

- You guys have a good trip in?

- A few hiccups. This is my assistant, Sheila.

- Yes, we've met.

- Oh, really?

- [Sheila] Cayman, briefly.

I think it was at church.

Right?

That's right. That's right.

A- At church.

- That's right. I forgot.

- You went to church?

Yeah, on my last trip I decided to go

and take in some of the local experience.

- It's good seeing you again.

- You too.

That's quite a bag you got there.

You guys moving to Miami,

or am I about to sign my life away?

[All Laughing]

My sincerest apologies,

Mr. Ridley...

but there's some stuff

I need to fax you later.

Carl. Please.

And, uh, use my home fax.

Easiest thing in the world.

- Uh, we, uh-

- That's okay.

- Is this your first time to the States?

- Yes, sir.

- Check the office voice mail. Should we talk?

- You bet.

Hey, I'll look forward

to getting those papers.

Allen, look, I've been really

thinking this over, and...

I think this is the end of it-

I'm out.

I feel it's just time

to take the high road.

W-We can deal differently,

you know.

- We can go into hedge funds, bonds-

- No, no, that's not my style.

- What are you gonna do with all

the money under the mattress?

- What about the condo?

I invest 1.5, I don't even-

Mr. Ridley's a very nice man.

Fancy him?

No, sir.

I saw you.

[Sighs]

Lingering handshakes.

Well, he's very powerful.

- Allen, we discussed this.

- He's very rich.

[Allen] The more you earn,

the less you keep.

In that case, I should've just

brought in cash.

I could've gotten it

for a million even.

You want to walk into a Realtor

with a million dollars in cash?

Didn't do a f***ing thing.

Say, you'd make a good team,

wouldn't you?

##[Man Singing]

##[Continues]

##[Continues, Fades]

[Line Rings]

Yes, this is Mr. Allen

from the Cayman Islands.

[Allen]

Special Agent Martinez.

Enforcement.

Hi! How's it going?

Thanks for getting back to me so soon.

No, I was just with him yesterday.

Hold on.

What was the number

to Mr. Ridley's condo?

C- 4.

Sorry.

[Mouths Word]

Fax.

No, they're on their way now.

Uh, excuse me, sir?

Are we allowed to

fax bank statements?

Just f***ing do it, will you!

Sorry. Go ahead.

[Allen] Jesus, you guys work fast,

don't you?

[Phone Rings]

Hello. Mr. Allen's office.

Sheila? It's Carl.

Can you talk?

Oh, Carl.

I'm so glad you called.

No, no, me first.

I feel like an ass.

- Sheila?

- That whole charade with your boss.

- Sheila!

- Hello?

Coming, Mr. Allen!

[Beeping]

- [Whirring]

- Dad! You got a fax!

Take this down to the post room,

get it packed up for shipping.

[Gene]

So why are you leaving?

Do you know the thing about the Cayman Islands?

You know about the tax thing.

Enlighten me.

Years ago...

all bushes and fishermen.

There was a storm.

A convoy of ships

was crashed on the reef...

and the locals risked their lives

to go out and help the passengers...

one of whom turned out to be the son

of King George III of England.

And His Majesty was so pleased...

that his son's life had been spared...

that he decreed the Cayman Islands

had paid their dues to the crown...

and would never again

have to pay taxes.

Hundreds of years later...

the locals took it upon themselves...

to open up that privilege to the rest

of the f***ing world, made a f***ing mint.

- They f***ing did, didn't they?

- Yeah.

That's why the roads are all paved

and the streets are f***ing clean.

Because the locals know

how to work the f***ing system.

That's what I want you to do-

just help me work the f***ing system.

- How?

- Well...

you're a senior manager.

That means you can

sign off on my account...

make deposits over time...

on my behalf.

And where are you gonna be?

[Allen] I'll let you have the house as well.

I'll be offshore.

Or in prison.

[Allen]

I'll be rich.

Rich white men don't go to prison.

I'll drink to that.

- You're a good man.

- Cheers.

[Allen] Do you want me to tell you

what we're gonna do?

- [Car Door Closes]

- Bullshit, yo.

I'm gonna take her inside.

Why don't you take our boy

down to see Powell.

[Locks Rattling]

F***, man.

This way, miss.

What the f*** kind of thing

they dealin' with now?

[Door Chime Dinging]

[Engine Starts]

So, according to this young lady...

when she and the other gentleman

got down to the dock...

the glass on the boat

was already smashed.

- Who is this other gentleman?

- Oh, I don't know.

He got away,

so we couldn't catch him.

Likely some local.

Mr. Allen, he's a lawyer. Right?

[Phone Ringing]

Allen.

- Get the phone.

- [Ringing Continues]

- [Ringing Continues]

- [Sighs]

[Snoring]

Hello?

Allen! Wake up!

- Wake up. It's the police.

- Mmm.

What?

Ridley?

Is he on the island?

Yeah, okay.

Yeah, I'll be right there.

[Sighs]

[Beeping]

[Ridley On Machine]

Allen, where are you?

- I left five messages.

- He called several times during the day.

Why didn't you f***ing tell me?

You're completely drunk.

[Sighs]

Remember when we first came here,

we used to sit by the ocean?

You liked the smell.

When was the last time

you smelled the ocean?

Shut up.

Turn the light off.

[Door Alarm Dinging]

Get out of the f***ing car.

Walk.

[Lock Clicks]

What goin' on, Officer Powell?

What happenin'?

You know, Fritz,

I been on to you for some time.

Borrowing of the cars,

boats, condos.

I mean, I expect it

from the spring breakers, but you?

You live your whole life

on vacation.

You know what I think it is?

You're a f***ing whitewashed,

wanna-be American.

You don't fit in amongst the locals...

so you leech off of the next batch

of f***ed-up girls...

that want a fling

with a little island monkey.

I'm talking to you.

Look at me.

Don't fit in? Officer Powell,

my family been here six generations.

Since tightropes and turtle nets.

I think I can stick my dick in any piece

of sexy white beef I feel is worthy-

What you doing?

- Where's your father?

- Uh, I don't know.

- You don't know?

- Don't know where your father is?

- Where are you living? Where are you staying?

- [Chuckles]

How do you not know

where your father is?

- We just got here. L-I don't know.

- You don't know much, do you?

Look at you, leeching off the rich,

living other people's lives.

The bloody boats.

- Come on!

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