The Professionals Page #5

I found out what makes a woman

worth 100,000 dollars.

You expect me to turn her loose?

Turn her loose? After all we've

been through together?

After all the blood it's cost?

Hell, no!

You made a contract to kidnap

a wife for Mr. J.W. Grant.

Now, let's collect that ransom.

Thank you, from the bottom

of my heart. Thank you.

Nicked you a bit, did they?

Help yourself.

- I'll get Mrs. Grant.

- That isn't necessary.

Hooper! Escort these men

into town. See they're paid in full.

Charge hotel bills, whisky bills,

girl bills, all bills. Anything. On me.

You must be anxious

to get a hot bath...

...so it'll have to be adios

and muchas gracias.

- A hot bath.

- Why? Is it Saturday?

You did your job and earned

a bust-out. Those are orders.

The contract is not complete until...

...Mrs. Grant is delivered

safe and sound.

- The code of the profession?

- Something like that.

Very well. I hereby declare

our contract satisfactorily concluded.

Not yet. Mrs. Grant...

Thank you.

Maria!

- Hooper.

- Yes, sir.

Kill him.

No, no.

You haven't earned

the right to kill him.

If it's not too much, I want privacy.

- Joseph!

- Not now.

There is nothing to hide.

They know everything.

Everything.

You're back again.

Nothing else matters.

I will run away again. That matters.

You're my wife. You belong to me.

I belong here.

- With him?

- With him.

I'd rather see you dead.

You're coming with me!

You're going home!

- No!

- Yes!

Gentlemen, you heard our employer.

The lady's going home.

Did you think J.W. Grant was

stupid enough to pay that ransom?

Certainly not.

There was no kidnapping.

Right, Mr. Grant?

- Right, Mr. Grant?

- That is none of your business.

Wrong, Mr. Grant.

We made a contract to save

a lady from a nasty old kidnapper.

Who turns out to be you.

We both made a bad deal, Mr. Grant.

You lose a wife, and we lose

10,000 dollars apiece.

You bastard!

Yes, sir.

In my case, an accident of birth.

But you, sir,

you're a self-made man.

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