Lethal Weapon 3 Page #6

RIGGS:
Yesterday,

my partner nailed this kid...

I know about Murtaugh.

Yeah. And I'm sorry, Riggs.

Yeah.

[Sighs deeply]

Why don't you let me in on this?

I can help you.

I really want to help you,

if you'll let me. Let me.

What do you say? Have we got a deal?

Wash your hands...

...and meet me in my office.

Yeah.

RIGGS:
I'll be right there.

I'll be right there.

LORNA:
MAC-10, 9 mm, semi-automatic...

BOTH:
Converted to automatic

with 36 rounds in the magazine.

"On a sesame seed bun."

Very illegal.

The gun has a history.

Wanna know about it?

Tell me.

"Killed a convenience store clerk

in LA County, July 1990.

"Used in a drive-by shooting

in San Bernardino County, August 1990.

"Confiscated by a truant officer

of the LA School Board, October 1990."

Scheduled for destruction by LAPD

six weeks ago.

"Scheduled for destruction?"

LORNA:
But it never got there.

Instead, it found its way

into the hands of a 15-year-old boy...

...who fired it on a police officer,

your partner.

I thought it looked familiar.

LORNA:

That gun and 15,000 others like it...

...were stolen from a police storage facility

before they could be destroyed.

They should be paper clips right now,

or license plates.

Anything but a gun. Here we are

busting our asses on the streets...

...getting these weapons out of circulation

and now they're headed back out.

By busting Phelps, you stumbled onto

something the LAPD's tried to keep quiet.

That's why Internal Affairs is onto this.

They think this is an inside job.

LORNA:
That's right.

They knew police procedures.

They knew where the guns were stored

and how to get in.

They even knew the sorting codes

on the containers...

...because they took the automatics

and left the junk behind.

LORNA:
It all pointed to a cop.

RIGGS:
Or an ex-cop.

Right.

BOTH:
Travis.

And you let him slip through your fingers.

That's closer than you ever got.

Close, Riggs?

Close is a lingerie shop

without a front window.

Do you want to go for a ride?

Sure, where are we going?

LORNA:
It's a surprise.

Oh, I love surprises.

RIGGS:
What is this place?

LORNA:
I accessed Billy Phelps'

phone records on my computer.

LORNA:
He made a dozen calls

to this address.

RIGGS:
That was nice of you

to steal that information.

LORNA:
Semantics, Riggs.

RIGGS:
"Semantics"?

RIGGS:
I'm always up for some antics.

Let's go on three.

LORNA:
One.

RIGGS:
On three, or three and then go?

LORNA:
What?

Never mind. One, two, three.

LORNA:
I've got you.

[Ferocious growling]

It looks like Billy's grandmother

owns a big dog.

It's not a dog. It's a horse.

LORNA:
I hate dogs, Riggs.

I don't get it.

You don't get what?

It's a dog. It's a f***ing dog.

I don't get, "Close, is a lingerie shop

without a front window." I don't get it.

Later.

[Growling]

What're you doing?

I can't shoot a dog.

People, okay, but not dogs.

I should try to make friends with him.

Make friends?

Now don't run, because he'll only

chase you down and kill you.

RIGGS:
Here, boy.

Here, boy.

[Low aggressive growling]

Sh*t!

Good boy!

[Dog barks and growls,

Riggs whimpers]

Riggs?

[Riggs growls]

You're crazy.

[Riggs pants and whimpers]

Want some?

RIGGS:
Are you hungry?

You're a hungry boy.

Doesn't anybody feed you? Come on.

Here's more. Leave some for me.

RIGGS:
Very slowly, as if you're not here,

just walk away.

You want me to go?

Yeah. This is a guy sort of thing.

LORNA:
"Guy sort of thing?"

RIGGS:
Are you alone?

Stay, stay.

HATCHETT:
Come on, let's go.

HATCHETT:
How many is that?

- Fifty-five.

- Fifty-five. All right, we've got eight more.

We'll get these later. Let's go.

Hi, fellas.

What's in all these boxes?

[Riggs wails]

[Thump]

HATCHETT:
Easy, let's not kill him, yet.

Let's see who he is first, all right?

[Gasping] You have the right

to remain silent.

HATCHETT:
Shut him up!

"Sergeant Martin Riggs."

- Get the truck ready.

- Right.

So, Sergeant Riggs...

... how did you find us?

Freeze! Police!

Another one?

We need a new f***ing dog.

Get your hands up, a**hole.

Get them up!

[Coughs and gasps]

A little bit higher.

LORNA:
That's better.

[Coughs]

Very good.

Drop it, miss.

RIGGS:
Now, look!

[Car engine revs]

[Tires screech]

RIGGS:
Okay, I'm on! No, I'm not!

Wait!

Wait, wait!

RIGGS:
Sergeant Cole!

Get down! Get down!

[Multiple gunshots whizz, glass shatters]

HATCHETT:
Get those cases

and kill that dog!

[Tires screech]

[Gunshots]

[Dog barking]

RIGGS:
Stop!

- The dog. Where'd you learn to fight?

- Catholic school. Forget the dog!

RIGGS:
Here, boy!

We're waiting for the dog!

RIGGS:
Hold it, hold it. Hurry up!

Good dog. Good puppy. Go!

Stop!

LORNA:
What?

RIGGS:
Guns.

RIGGS:
It's full of guns.

LORNA:
Grab one!

RIGGS:
You grab one!

LORNA:
Chicken.

RIGGS:
Step on it.

[Gunshots]

Get that crate! Come on!

[Dog barking]

TYRONE:
Hatchett, you said not to worry

about the police...

... but the cops are all over you!

They got my guns.

They'll come after me, next!

As far as I'm concerned, the deal's off!

Get a grip on yourself, Tyrone.

We have a deal.

Nobody backs out.

TYRONE:
You said you had the cops

under control.

I see that isn't so. Give me one reason...

TYRONE:

... why I should do business with you.

I'll give you a good reason.

Tyrone, this is Travis.

You back out now, and I'll make sure

only your dentist can identify the body.

Is that a good enough reason for you?

But I need ammo!

I'm out of business without ammo!

I need the good stuff.

You'll get the ammo. The good stuff.

"The good stuff." Jesus.

JACK:
Time to pay

another visit to the LAPD.

You look like I feel.

Hey?

RIGGS:
Have you got anything

I can put on my head?

The hat in the closet.

You're all heart. Here I thought

you'd get all tender and maternal.

I was raised with four brothers.

We got hurt often, but if no bones were

broken or blood gushed, nobody cared.

Look, blood. See? Blood.

LORNA:
It's not gushing.

RIGGS:
It was free falling earlier.

Could you bring me a needle and thread?

Some peroxide. I'll patch it up myself.

Don't touch anything.

I wasn't.

What's with you?

[Three Stooges theme music plays

on computer]

RIGGS:
Boys.

LORNA:
What are you doing?

LORNA:
I said not to touch anything.

RIGGS:
It came on by itself.

All by itself. What are you, a wise guy?

RIGGS:
You don't like to share your toys?

- This isn't a toy.

- What is it?

- This is a weapon.

- A weapon?

Used properly, a very effective weapon.

What, do you throw it at people?

LORNA:
You'll give yourself a hernia.

Come here. Sit down.

LORNA:
Right here.

RIGGS:
Take a little off the top.

LORNA:
Right here.

RIGGS:
Do you bring

all your interrogations home?

LORNA:
What are we talking about?

RIGGS:
It's back here.

RIGGS:
Careful, careful.

LORNA:
Turn your head.

RIGGS:
Careful.

LORNA:
This?

LORNA:
This scratch?

RIGGS:
It feels like the Grand Canyon.

Oh, God.

Hold still.

LORNA:
Oh, God. We haven't even started.

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