The Reckoning: The Battle for the International Criminal Court Page #5

Yes. I've had about all I can take

of myself.

How would you like us to proceed?

Cassian, what does one do when

there's no way out of a situation?

If there's no way out...

...the best thing is

to find a way further in.

- F***ing disgusting, you know that?

- What are you, my mother?

No, but I could be your old man

for all you know, a**hole.

Hey, doc.

Gabriel Hansen?

I don't know.

My associate handled this.

Well, the address

is a post-office box...

...and he paid cash

for all of his medical bills.

There are no diagnostic photos.

Why?

- I don't know.

- Is there a number?

Yeah, 212-157-6421.

It's a dead line.

I'll put a call in to Hubby,

have her run it down.

See if we can't get a crack warrant

for the P.O. Box in Jersey.

What do all these GT's

next to the appointment entries mean?

We have a kickback account

with Go Taxi...

...and they indicate when we

use their service for a patient.

Hey. Hubb says you caught a lead.

Yeah, we've got an address.

We're en route.

- What is it?

- Well, it could be him.

- Really?

- Yeah.

Well, they gotta bring him in now.

This is our last shot.

What do you mean, "our last shot"?

Arnie and I had it out last night,

and our clock's run out.

If we don't get this guy right now,

it's over.

Well, it better be him, then.

I'm here. Yeah.

I know that.

This is definitely the right address?

Checked the log myself. This is where

they dropped him off every time.

Well, he could be anywhere.

- What do you think he was doing?

- Beats the sh*t out of me.

It's a big, empty lot.

Well, I'm starving. I'm gonna

get something. You want anything?

Yeah, a coffee, black.

I'm going back down to

headquarters after this.

Okay, all right.

Right, bye.

How long do you think

this has been like this?

I don't know, but we need to find out.

The doctor's records say

the last time...

...somebody got dropped off here

was five weeks ago.

I mean, there's not even

a temporary office or anything.

- How you doing?

- How you doing?

Son of a b*tch.

What's the matter?

I just made our perp.

Eleven o'clock, blue overcoat.

- You sure that's him?

- A hundred percent.

- Where did he come from?

- Sh*t if I know.

I'm at the counter and

I see him rolling past the window.

- Wanna go for the collar?

- No.

We tail him, find out where he sleeps,

then take him down.

A, B, C. Keep the box tight.

- Five-oh-two-six. Designator?

- Samuel Koppler.

Message:

Your uncle

wishes to see you immediately.

Response?

The Guggenheim, fifth floor

of the rotunda, 40 minutes.

- Hi, how you doing?

- Hello.

N.Y.P.D. I need to

speak to your security chief.

Okay, one moment.

Rick?

How you doing? Detective Ornelas.

I need to be able to clear security.

- Okay.

- Thanks.

We're clear.

Directly behind me.

There you go. Thank you.

Who's the old scag

sitting next to him?

I don't know, but I saw him at the

bank's headquarters in Luxembourg.

You don't look well today.

We all begin better than we end.

What would you prefer your ending

to be like?

Oh, more purposeful,

and certainly more climactic.

A finale.

A finale.

Circumstances can always

be arranged.

As much as the thought

appeals to me...

...I'm afraid your consideration

is needed elsewhere.

- What is this?

- Salinger.

The method and manner

is entirely up to you.

Your principle would simply like him

to vanish without a trace.

- Any other provisions?

- Yes.

No mistakes.

I'll follow.

- Where's Iggy going?

- Following a new lead.

Sh*t.

We gotta go.

N.Y.P.D. Lock your hands

behind your head.

Do it now.

They'll never let you bring me in.

Do it, or I'll take you down.

- Cuffs.

- On the belt.

There's a guy right up there.

- Where'd he...?

- Up there! Up there!

Get down!

- God! Oh, my God!

- It's okay.

Down there.

Sh*t.

Drop the gun.

- Lf I drop the gun, we'll both die.

- I said, drop the gun!

They're here for me but they'll kill

you too. Now help me get this off.

I can't breathe.

Stairs.

- F***.

- You okay?

The ramp is the only way out.

Hey.

Don't you f***ing dare.

I'm calling from the dark side.

- Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.

- I'm calling from the...

Get back.

I told you.

What? You told me what?

They'd never let you bring me in.

F***, f***.

Move away from the building.

Can everybody please

move away from the building?

They know you're coming.

We gotta hurry.

- Where'd they find him?

- Sitting on a bench near the reservoir.

- Has he said anything yet?

- Nothing. He's pretty shaken up.

- Who else knows he's here?

- Everyone. Nothing I could do.

Heavies from the Bureau

and Justice are on their way.

- with an unidentified third man.

- How long do I have?

- Five, 10 minutes, max.

- wanted for questioning

in an ongoing investigation.

Now, a Guggenheim employee tells me

that while they were in the museum...

This isn't over.

Are you sure about this?

Just read it.

- They recognize you?

- Don't think so.

Back it up!

- ... screens came crashing down.

- How you doing?

- There was glass everywhere.

- As compared to what?

And just on the ground.

When you heard all of this

commotion, did you think...?

Anything you need, Ellie,

just let me know.

- Thanks.

- I just heard gunshots.

And people were hit

and screaming...

... and people just started running

out the door...

... and I didn't know

what was going on.

You okay?

Yeah.

You flip this guy.

You make sure my partner

wasn't killed for nothing.

I know that... I think random people

were going down and...

I mean, there was police running up

as other people were going down.

You ready for this?

Good evening, Colonel Wexler.

I'm Agent Louis Salinger.

I know who you are.

Of course you do.

I was at the Guggenheim

this afternoon.

The assassin you met with...

... I know you were his handler.

I know you arranged for him

to be killed at the behest of the bank...

...because I was obviously

getting too close.

But if a hit team at the Guggenheim

is what happens...

...because I was

getting too close to him...

...what do you think the bank'll do

when it realizes how close I am to you?

Death comes for us all,

Agent Salinger.

But based on everything

I've read about you...

...you seem like the kind of man...

...who aspired to die

for something more than this.

Well, this is the difference

between truth and fiction.

Fiction has to make sense.

I'm confused, colonel.

Why would a tried

and true communist...

...a hardliner that spent 30 years

in the Stasi...

...fighting against the evils

of capitalism...

Why would this man waste his

final days working for an institution...

...that was the very embodiment

of everything he once despised?

You dedicated your life

to the communist ideal.

You sacrificed everything

for the good of the party.

For what?

You lost your wife to betrayal...

...your daughter to suicide...

...and when the Wall fell,

your whole life fell apart with it.

You know nothing about me.

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