The Truth About Charlie Page #5

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I don't know! | Alex!

Get you hands off of me.! | Alex.!

Stamps! | Where is it? | What are you doing?

Where's Charlie's bag? | Where is it? | What?

Where's what? | The envelope!

The stamps!

Hello?

Watch out!

Chtelet.

Hello? Monsieur?

Where is everybody?

Monsieur?

Hello?

Oh, no.

It's not here. | Is it?

- You killed him! | - Of course I didn't.

- You're a murderer! | - Reggie!

Reggie.! | Reggie, don't be ridiculous.!

Reggie.!

Reggie!

- Reggie!

Reggie, wait.!

Reggie!

Reggie! Wait!

- Mr. Bartholomew! | - It's okay, Mrs. Lambert. | You're safe now.

- Are you armed, Mr. Bartholomew? | Thank God. | - At all times, Mrs. Lambert.

Well, this is convenient. | This is him.!

Joshua Peters, | Alexander Dyle... | whoever he is.

You have the assets, | Mrs. Lambert? | Wait a minute.!

The assets? Reggie! | Is this who you've been...

- No. Yes! | - So. My long-lost and | nonexistent kid brother Alex.

A.K.A. Mr. Bartholomew.

Nice to meet you.

No!

I've never seen | a ghost before.

- Pleasure's all mine. | - What's going on here?

Reggie, my name | is Lewis Bartholomew.

- Really? | - I'm a special investigator for | the Unites States Office...

of Defense Cooperation.

- Really? | - Your secret partner here | is the real Dyle.

Carson Dyle.

Mrs. Lambert,

I am Carson Dyle.

Obviously I didn't die in Yugoslavia. | Came mighty close, though.

When I asked you | about Dyle, you...

- You were describing yourself. | - That's correct, Mrs. Lambert.

I was shot up pretty bad.

Totally incapacitated.

Check on Dyle!

Unlike the others, | Charlie knew I was still alive.

He's dead!

- Chief! | - Chief!

But he told them | I was dead.

Dyle is dead!

Took the money and ran.

My God. | A farmer | and his family found me.

He was a Muslim. | His wife Christian.

They hid me, | got me to a hospital...

where a great little lady doc | put me back together.

And you've been tracking | Charlie Lake ever since.

I located him in Paris.

- Reinvented as | "Charles Lambert." | - He got wind of you?

I always told myself | I'd give Charlie | the benefit of the doubt.

I wouldn't kill him | if he gave back the money.

So long as he didn't lie.

And you did kill him?

He did lie.

Charles never told | the truth about anything.

None of you do.

Mr. Dyle. I'm really moved | that you want the O.D.C. | To get their money back.

I always complete | my assignments.

However, we still don't have | the missing funds.

And you've got blood | all over your hands.

Is it your intention | to arrest me?

- Look.

One of eight known | remaining,

inverted U.S. | "Teddy Nickels"... | X.F. grade, 1928.

The legendary | Algerian Oran 60,

original slash mark | intact, 1952.

And the true masterpiece, | the mahogany Urate Lornis,

Madagascar 1906.

The most valuable | postage stamp on | the face of the earth.

There you are, Investigator. | My work is done.

Just hand that over now, Reggie. | It's U.S. Government property.

- Reggie!

Re...

- I don't believe you just did that.

I do.

Whoa! | Carson Dyle?

Police.!

Restez calme.

- Personne ne bouge.! | - Dessalines, doucement.

You look like hell, | II-Sang Lee.

Here for you, Chief.

Carson.

Mr. Dyle.

Question. | Okay?

You didn't happen to bump | into Zadapec on the 11:20 | to London yesterday, did you?

Check on Dyle.!

Dyle is dead.!

- Chief!

- That is correct. | - I see.

Were you outside the Tango Palace | when Lola bought it?

- Chief! | - No!

- That was most unfortunate.

You've lost a lot. | None of it's coming back.

What's your point, Bartholomew? | You still have | your honor, Carson.

I've got a suggestion.

Tony?

Eric?

Put 'em down.

Chief.

See you in court, | Commandant.

It will be my pleasure.

You're under arrest | for the murder | of Charles Lambert.

On y va.

Sh*t!

Morning, Ernie.

Good morning, | Mr. Bartholomew. | Bonjour.

Bonjour, | Mr. Bartholomew.

Here are your messages. | Your mom called.

Hey, is that for me?

Is everything okay, | Mister "B"?

Miss Hoskins? | Yes, sir?

Some tea, please?

Coming right up, sir. | Thank you.

Hey, boss. | How are you, Chief?

Good job, guys.

Ah, non, non, monsieur...

I'm sorry, Mr. Bartholomew. | She's okay.

Come in. Please.

Well, well, well.

"Bartholomew."

You can call me Lewis.

This is for you, Lewis.

My late husband's minor fortune.

- Mm-hmm. | - What? But before? The fire?

Laser copies, courtesy | of Commandant Dominique.

Thank you, Reggie.

I'm not a thief. | I know.

So long, Lewis.

Quitter.

You give up | awful easy, don't you?

Not really. | Please.

Don't go. I hated deceiving you. | I'm so sorry.

Please.

All that time, | you should have trusted me!

Revealing my true identity | was never an option, Reggie.

But I never tried | to hide my feelings for you.

Oh! Lewis, what | are you really like?

There's only one way to find out.

Why should I? | Because I love you.

What?

I love you, Reggie. | And...

You've got to be kidding!

No. Never.

Oh, you're luckier | than you realize, Lewis.

Why? | 'Cause I was about to walk | out of your life for good.

And the crazy thing is... | Yes?

I would have regretted | that for...

several weeks, probably.

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