Stolen Page #3

- How much is this one?

- 29.99.

Want your change?

Passenger service to Tuscaloosa

now boarding platform 2.

Help, get me out of here.

Fletcher, I can't hear you.

You lost him on his first morning out. Sh*t!

- Will Montgomery is here for you.

- Send him in.

So your dead, former partner Vincent Kinsey

has kidnapped your daughter and

is holding her somewhere in New Orleans?

- In a cab.

- The cab, yes, that's right. In the cab, yeah.

And what does he want in return?

- 10 Million dollars.

- 10 Million dollars.

- Remind me why that's a familiar figure.

- I burned the cash.

Just before you grabbed me.

That's the God's honest truth.

'Cause I knew I'd get less

time if I ditched the money.

I don't have it but he has my daughter

and I need your help.

Why would I be here if I had the money?

I would just pay Vincent off and

get my little girl back.

This is how I see it, Will.

You're a thief, a crook and a scumbag,

but you're also a very clever tree frog.

So you concoct this "Kinsey is alive and

has snatched my kid" fantasy

so that A, you can show that you don't have the

money otherwise why wouldn't you pay the ransom,

or B, send us running around all over town

searching for your daughter and her abductor

to afford you the time to dig-up the dough

and jump onto a cigarette boat

and zip-down to the Bahamas

where you can sip rum for the rest of your days

and listen to classic rock

played by bands with muscular guitarists

and dead drummers.

Ah, my faithful buddy.

Couldn't find a couch in the living room.

This is Vincent's file.

The prints match as you can see.

They cut his body up before they burnt it.

We managed to get the prints of

a few fingers that survived the fire.

- We can visit his grave if you want.

- No, we can't

because he's alive. He faked his own death.

Please, Tim, I'm running out of time.

I'm not being played by you again, Will.

All right, let's go.

Please help me.

Escort our pal out of the building, will ya?

A little help, guys.

Will Montgomery, on behalf of

the Federal Bureau of Investigation

I'd like to thank you for stopping by today.

Hold up, hold up.

Harlend thinks you're some

kind of criminal mastermind.

A criminal mastermind?

I don't share this belief because criminal

masterminds don't go away for eight year jolts.

Or do they?

One more, please.

Thank you.

We called Montgomery's ex home and cell.

Both voicemails say she's out of town.

Have you tried his

daughter's cell phone?

Right, it says the account's been suspended

I think I'll call local PD on it.

If she has been kidnapped,

we're FBI, we do something about it.

- You don't think he's telling the truth?

- No, I do not.

Hey! Is there anybody out there?

Jacobs.

Crap.

We have a problem.

That's good.

All right, well, keep trackin' 'im to Tuscaloosa.

If he deviates from the route

let me know.

You're are exactly the woman

I want to see in clothes that tight.

The only thing with any balls to

cover this town was The Hurricane.

Get away from the car!

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, cab's off duty.

G'day, Mate, how ya doin'?

Look, look, I just gotta get to the...

The cab's off duty, man.

Yeah, Mate?. I just gotta catch

up with these chicks that I met...

Hey!

Please? Good on ya, Mate.

Help.

I haven't had my dong a dip since I got here, eh.

One of them was preg as heck.

Yeah, I know.

Mate, I better get of this blow.

This cabby's gonna chuck a wobbly.

All right, Mate, so, let me tell

you about those sheilas, eh.

So, the pregnant one is sayin

nice things to ya, I really don't know why.

But me willy is about as lonely

as a bandicoot on a burnt ridge.

What the hell, the chicks are quite

different in New Orleans, eh, Mate?

New Orleans, it all comes back.

Heard you kid by the name King Louis 15?

King Louis 15 he don't know all this.

- Frenchman to cross the ocean to visit.

- It wasn't happening.

So in order to get some use out of it

finally he starts shippin' over

boatloads of French prisoners.

That was coal up your ass, bugger.

Thieves, gamblers, prostitutes, murderers,

pirates, gypsies, pickpockets.

and psychopaths.

Is this me stop?

Those were the pioneers of this land.

And the forefathers of this town.

That you so casually dismissed.

All computers in this building are tracked.

This is the page that corresponds to the

exact moment in the video where he stops.

This is Agent Harlend, I need an assault

team at Apartment 9, 23 St. Claude.

Ya hear me! Shut up, stupid, stupid dog.

I'm gonna skin you and make

a pair of shoes out of you.

I hate you and your owner.

Shut up.

- Jesus, Will!

- Shut up. Drop the bag.

That's my lunch.

- And that's my gun.

- Drop the bag.

That's for the last ten years.

- Where's Vincent?

- Vincent? Vincent's dead, man.

- Try again.

- I swear, I swear on my life.

I haven't seen Vincent...

Oh, that's right, I forgot, it's

not your brains you care about.

A bullet to the stomach is the most painful.

And it takes hours to die.

Okay, look, look, look,

Mate, what do you want to know?

What does he have you doing?

Nothing, baby, gee, you know,

bags drops, recons, stuff like that.

He told me to drop off the phone

for you so I dropped off the phone.

And my daughter? My daughter?!?

You know, the whole bottom fell out of

our operation when you went away, Will.

I mean, look around you, does it look

like I'm puttin' on the Ritz here?

We want our share, just our share.

So help me God, Hoyt, you tell me where she is,

or I'll blow your lunch all over this carpet.

He's drivin' around with her,

in the trunk of his cab.

- In the trunk?

- And I gotta be honest with you, Will, 'cause

I didn't think the taking of

your daughter part was right.

I mean, bad idea to steal from

America's greatest bank robber.

After he had lost the leg,

something changed in him, Will.

He said he just felt numb to

everything, numb like a statue.

And he blames that on you, Will.

He blames the leg on you,

so he also blames the numb on you.

Go.

Let the squirrels squabble,

then we'll go after their hoard.

Hold it!

Let's go!

Will, stop.

Street level! Go!.

What the hell are you doing?

Man, are you listening, tapioca?

Just go, please.

Medallion.

License and registration, please.

Do you know why I pulled you over?

- I do not.

- Your brake light's out.

- What's funny?

- Nothing, it's just...

it's Mardi Gras, and the streets

are filled with drunken lunatics

and you pull me over for a broke, brake light.

Help.

That reminds me of my father

who's dying of bone cancer.

all day he'd b*tch about the nick he

got on his chin from shaving that morning.

I know what you're thinking:

Why would a dying man shave?

No, I wasn't thinking that at all.

Get this vehicle back to the barn

and get that light taken care of.

Please, can you hear me?

Because he had tremendous vanity.

Sir, you mind coming around

here and open the trunk?

He did not go gently, my father.

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