The Tailor of Panama Page #4

Marco, you know me.

I made you that

double-breasted mohair.

I'm still waiting for you

to pay me for it.

Through here. He's gonna give you

only five minutes, okay?

Your Excellency.

Welcome back, indeed.

Five capitals in one week,

I think I read.

Paris to Tokyo in seven days.

A record for a world-class statesman.

Pants.

They'll know where Panama is then,

won't they?

We won't be just a wriggly little

worm on the map with a canal, will we?

Vest.

I dispense with

the rear buckle as a rule...

...with your handmade waistcoat,

Excellency.

Too many of my gentlemen report

a discomfort to the lower vertebrae...

...when leaning backward, relishing

a postprandial cigar.

Jacket.

Did we discuss the canal's future

on our travels...

...if I may be so bold?

So you want to know something

about the canal?

If it pleases Your Excellency.

You're halfway up it.

I stand upright.

Okay, just.

I bend down...

...my balls are in my ears.

- Very good, sir.

You make your pants too tight,

Mr. Braithwaite.

Harry!

I've got a job.

Sh*t, sh*t, sh*t!

It's upstairs.

No. Thank you.

"Harry," he says to me,

"you make beautiful pants.

When I was a boy, I dreamed

of wearing pants like these."

His very words, Andy.

To be quite frank,

do we have to meet here?

It's not very salubrious.

Good cover, Harry.

They rent the rooms by the hour.

Cash. No questions asked.

No paper trail.

Anyone sees you going in, you're here

to get your end away. Same as me.

So that's it, is it?

Half hour's tte--tte

about knickers.

What about the canal?

Did he say anything about his trip?

He had talks, yes.

"Constructive discussions,"

was his phrase, I believe.

You're not gonna pay off the farm

at this rate.

Andy, this is hard for me.

He confides. A tailor's like a priest

in these situations.

For me, the changing room is

as sacred as the confessional.

Lips are sealed, eh?

Have you had a chance to make

arrangements about the farm, Andy?

Well, the money's there,

as long as you deliver.

- He's selling it, Andy.

- What?

The canal.

He's selling it?

Has to. Needs the money.

Relieve the poverty. Infrastructure.

Who's buying?

Who's buying?

Various interested parties, I believe.

- Come on.

- He mentioned the French, the Japanese.

And?

Oh, yeah. And the Chinese.

Harry.

Andy.

Are you pulling my pisser?

Not unless the president's

pulling mine.

This is f***ing dynamite.

Does he always talk to you like this?

Not always...

...but mostly.

Now this is for the record.

Times, names, places.

His actual words, if you

remember them.

Goose it up a bit.

It's going straight to the top.

Here we go.

What kind of Chinese, by the way?

You know, Chinese, like Chinese.

Oh, f***'s sake.

I mean, mainland? Taiwan?

The both, Andy. The two together.

Hand in hand.

It's something the president's

very proud of...

...bringing them together,

at the same table.

"Harry," he says to me, "if it's all

I'm remembered for, then so be it.

I brought reconciliation

to the great Chinese people...

...for the betterment of all mankind."

You've excelled. This is a better

yarn than Arthur Braithwaite.

Are you implying...?

Doesn't matter what I think.

It plays.

First installments:

Abraxas and Marta.

- Installments?

- Payment on results, Harry.

And the farm as such, Andy?

Looking good.

Oh, look at those tits.

Yum-yum.

You want to pay off the debt?

With what?

Let's say I won the lottery, Ramon.

And I want to buy your farm from you.

What do you mean,

you want to buy my farm?

I don't have no farm.

Oh, yes, you do, Ramon.

I know all about it.

Okay.

You won the lottery, you can

pay me $3000 an acre.

Two. You'll be paid

direct from Europe.

I've made the necessary arrangements.

You won't mind if I deduct

your tailoring bill?

It has a bad smell.

That would be the fish.

I'll pay you back.

I'm going to straighten out.

Just don't resent me

for doing you a favor.

Harry, this is Panama, where no

good deed goes unpunished.

Right.

There's two ways we can deal

with this one, old girl.

Sweat it out for six months,

then fall into each other's arms:

"Darling, why didn't we ever

do this before?"

Method B, the preferred one:

Full-on affair now.

Observing tight security all round.

See how we like it.

If we don't, no one's the wiser.

I don't suppose it's occurred to you

that I might prefer someone else?

Is that a no?

No.

Come and dance.

Oh, God, you don't dance as well,

do you?

As well as what?

My chaps in London are in a bit

of a spin about it.

I understand they're talking

to Washington.

If the canal's being sold out,

how come we never got a whisper of it?

I'm sure the question

is being asked...

...and not to your credit, Nigel,

as political officer.

What about the Americans?

They've got billions in

surveillance. They don't know?

Perhaps they do know about it,

but they're not telling us.

You're very quiet, Francesca.

What are your feelings about

Andrew's amazing discoveries?

Well, I couldn't possibly comment.

No insight into the Osnard methods,

I'm afraid.

Try not to look so furtive, Harry.

- I'm feeling a little anxious.

- How do you think I feel?

- Something wrong?

- Yes.

We bombed in Washington.

Sit down.

The Yanks say we're talking through

our asses. No Silent Opposition.

No conspiracy to sell off the canal.

No f***-all.

- They can't say that.

- They just said it.

The Buchan material

holds no credibility.

No credibility equals no cash.

Without the Yanks, London will

pull the entire project.

- Why?

- Because in matters of intelligence...

...as in most other matters...

...merry England sucks

on the American hind tit.

It's called,

"The special relationship."

Mickie will be very downcast, Andy.

So will Marta.

What about us? We both had

a good thing going here.

I was counting on making a pension.

You thinking of retiring?

Scrap heap at 45 in this game.

It was blue chip material.

You said so yourself.

London needs something solid.

Documents, evidence.

Does your wife bring home papers,

canal stuff?

- What's that got to do with anything?

- Does she? That's all.

It happens.

Take a look up its skirt.

Come here. Come here.

Give it back.

It's a camera.

One picture's worth a thousand words.

Or a thousand bucks. Tell her that.

- Tell her?

- Why not?

Put her on the payroll.

Double your money.

I want something in writing on

Delgado's dealings with the Chinese.

No more bullshit.

Louisa would never betray Delgado.

She worships the man.

Does she know where you're at?

Not an inkling.

Ever tell her about your prison days?

Not as such.

Haul her in, Harry...

...or I might have to tell her

about Harry Pendel, the criminal.

You stay away from her.

Okay, I'll handle it.

You're rather tense tonight, Lou.

Maybe because you're peering

over my shoulder again.

Or maybe because I had a call

from Donna.

Donna?

Teddy's wife.

She said you were seen coming

out of the Hotel Paraiso.

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