[27th
precinct; it's very busy]
Elaine: Got the
extradition papers?
Fraser: They
should all be in order.
Elaine: Your
bosses must be in a real hurry to get him back to Canada.
What did he do?
Fraser: He's
wanted for perjury. Apparently he was a key witness in a
murder trial and he changed his testimony on the stand. It
resulted in a mistrial. Is he here?
Elaine: Huey
and Louie are bringing him over from lockup. I hear he's
quite the character. He got pulled over for running a red
light. He tried to convince them he was taking a short cut
in the Cross-Canada Rally. If he'd kept his mouth shut,
they might never have called INS.
Ray: Elaine,
can you find out what the weather's like in Florida?
Elaine: Do I
look like a travel agent?
Ray: Hey Benny,
you ever been to the Sunshine State?
Fraser: I can't
say that I have, Ray.
Ray: Yo! You
guys want to move, or you want to find out what fine
Italian footwear tastes like?
Fraser: Thank
you kindly.
Ray: I just
hear that it's the rainy season, and I don't want to get
all the way down there and get stuck in some kind of
monsoon or something.
Fraser: Ray, I
thought you'd used up all your vacation time.
Ray: No-no-no,
this is not a vacation. This is a plum just waiting to be
picked! You see, the district sends one detective from
each division to go down to Miami to listen to some
lecture on advanced weaponry, and I plan to be said
detective.
Fraser: So it's
assigned on the basis of merit?
Ray: No, it's
assigned on the basis of who can suck up to the Lieutenant
the most without making it obvious.
[knocks on Welsh's
door, then
enters]
Cappuccino, sir?
[corridor; Gardino
is handcuffed to a prisoner (Ian)]
Gardino: What
do you think of this shirt?
[it's a very gaudy
Hawaiian print]
Huey: What,
that? I think you'll look pretty silly in it sitting
behind your desk while I'm in Florida.
Gardino: Sorry,
pal. This little baby here is my ticket to fun in the
sun!
Ian: It's
strange you guys mentioned Florida, because my family has
a home in the
Keys. So if
you want to use it, just let me know.
Huey: Shut up!
[to
Gardino]
What do you got?
Gardino: What
do you got?
Huey: Orchestra
seats to La
Bohème.
Gardino: Eh,
I'll send you a postcard.
Huey: We'll see
about that.
[Welsh's
office]
Welsh: So, you
really thought you could get this assignment by sucking up
to me, Detective?
Ray: Oh no,
sir. A man of your considerable intelligence would see
right through that, sir.
Welsh:
Decaf?
Ray: Uh, no,
sir.
Welsh:
Ah. Thanks
anyway. [hands it
back to Vecchio]
Ray: No
problem, sir. I just happened to be passing the espresso
bar on the way to work, sir.
[bullpen]
[Vecchio tosses coffee into the
trash]
Ray:
[to
Fraser]
Where can I find an espresso bar in a ten block
radius?
Fraser: Well,
there's a small one--
Ray: All right,
great. Come on.
[they
exit]
Huey: You got
him real Cuban cigars? No way. How'd you get your hands on
them?
Gardino: Let's
just say one of the girls in the evidence room thinks I
have sensitive eyes.
Huey:
Really.
[they cuff Ian to the chair between two other prisoners,
then enter Welsh's
office]
Gardino: A
moment, sir?
Ian:
[under his
breath] I
bet he's a goner!
[giggles, then to
prisoner on his
right] Aw,
hey, come on man, he didn't mean it literally.
Prisoner on
left: [to
prisoner on
right]
What you looking at?
Prisoner on
right: [to
prisoner on
left]
What's your problem?
[Welsh's
office]
Huey: It's just
that I had these two tickets to the opera and I thought I
might be out of town tomorrow night.
Welsh: That's
very generous of you.
Gardino: Do you
smoke cigars, sir? You're going to think this is a very
strange coincidence but uh...
Welsh: Cubans,
Gardino!
Gardino: He he
he.
Welsh: You boys
wouldn't be in any way trying to influence my decision on
which officer makes that Miami--
Gardino: No,
sir!
Huey:
Absolutely not, sir!
Welsh: Because
uh, I make it a rule to disqualify any officer who gives
me an expensive present of any sort in the last month. I
mean just to avoid any appearances of impropriety. You
understand, of course.
Gardino: I have
reason to suspect that these are uh...domestic, sir.
Welsh:
Really?
Gardino: Yeah,
where it says Havana? If you look closely, the ink is
smudged.
Huey: Actually
the tickets are for the twentieth row, sir. Matinee. On
the other hand, the cigars look real to me.
[a chair flies in through Welsh's
window]
[bullpen: total
chaos & fighting; Ian holds three chairs in front of
him and is heading for the exit]
Ian: Pardon me.
Excuse me. Excuse me. Watch your back, watch your back.
Thank you. Working man, coming through. I got a
deadline.
Welsh:
Detective Huey and Gardino. Were you escorting a prisoner
here for extradition?
Gardino: Ah yes
sir, he's uh...
[looks
around] I
hate to say this, sir, but I believe my partner didn't
handcuff him properly.
Huey: Me? It's
your cuffs, you ferret-faced little--
Ray:
[ushering Ian back
in] Hey!
Hey! You guys misplace something?
Welsh:
Detective Vecchio, have you caused a riot yet this
morning?
Ray: Not that
I'm aware of, sir.
Welsh: Good.
Gardino, give him your shirt.
Ray: Woooo! I'm
going to
Miami!
<Doo Mah>
[Vecchio's desk; Ian
keeps playing with things on the desk]
Ray: I have two
days to drive down there, one day at the lecture and two
days to drive back. That's five days out of which three I
gotta spend on the beach!
Fraser: Ray,
Miami's 1,387 miles from here. That's 26 hours driving
time each way.
Ray
: Okay, so at a 120 miles an hour that's... 13 hours. I
save a day.
Fraser:
[on
phone] Uh,
yes, I need to fly to Detroit today, and I will be
transporting a prisoner.
Ray: Fraser,
you do not need to tell everybody everything.
Fraser: Five
days notice. Uh, no, I wasn't aware of that. All right.
Well, thank you very much for your time.
[hangs
up] Ray,
do you think you can drop us at the train station on your
way?
[Vecchio smacks
Ian's hand for playing with a small Statue of
Liberty]
[train
station]
Ian: You know,
you are wasting Canadian taxpayers dollars, okay? Cause
you're going to get me there, and they're gonna take one
look at me and they're gonna say, 'You got the wrong guy.'
and then they're going to let me go.
Ray: Don't talk
to him; he's calculated. Okay, so at 95 miles an hour, how
long is that going to take?
Fraser: I can't
tell you that, Ray. It would recklessly endanger the lives
of thousands of motorists.
Ray: Okay, so
say 90.
[ticket
window]
Fraser: Good
morning. Constable Benton Fraser RCMP. I called earlier to
inquire about transporting a prisoner to Windsor, but your
lines were busy.
Clerk: You want
to transport a prisoner?
Ian : Wanted for train robbery, murder one and escape from maximum security prison. I'll be no trouble at all.
[street]
Fraser: Well, I
can't very well gag him, Ray.
Ray: Fraser,
this man is not your problem. He's an accused felon and a
compulsive liar.
Ian: I am an
innocent victim of circumstance.
Ray: Shut up!
[to
Fraser]
Know what your problem is, Fraser? You can't go around
compulsively telling people the truth. They just don't
want to hear it.
Ian: Now you
see, there I'd have to disagree with you.
Ray: Shut
up!
Ian: Hey, Bank
of Illinois. My dad owns that, you know. Well, part owner.
He orchestrated the whole deal, to tell the truth. I mean,
the Rockefellers started it but then he bought it. But I'm
telling you something: that has been one hell of an
investment, cause in the mid-sixties there was a little
bit of trouble there. But I tell you, right now with the
EC and everything going on, he's really doing well.
Ray: Shut
up!
[car rental place;
the Riv]
Fraser: Well, I
explained the situation to him, and he was extremely
helpful
Ray: Did he
rent you a car?
Fraser: No, but
he doesn't have any.
Ray: What do
you mean he doesn't have any? There's gotta be a hundred
cars on this lot.
Fraser:
Unfortunately they're all reserved. I didn't realize Spiro
Agnew's birthday was that widely celebrated. Also I
thought it was in November.
Ian: You know,
my mother had an affair with Spiro Agnew, but it was all
hushed up, or course, which is why they wouldn't let me in
the Secret Service...
[outside of Vecchio
house; raining]
Ray: This is a
1971 mint condition Buick Riviera.
Fraser: You
know, Ray, you really don't have to do this. I'm sure I
can find someone who will lend me a car.
Ray: How many
people have we asked?
Fraser: Well,
uh, basically everyone I know. It does seem rather curious
that they've all decided to leave town at exactly the same
time.
Ray: It uses
top octane fuel, 20-weight oil.
Fraser: Ray!
This is silly. How are you going to get to Florida?
Ray: I'll fly.
It'll be worth the six hundred bucks to get rid of
you.
Ian: Are you
aware that the gas tank in this particular make of car
explodes on impact?
Ray: You wanna
ride in the trunk?
Fraser: Ray,
you know, I appreciate this offer, I really do, but you
have some kind of special bond with this vehicle. I'm not
saying I understand it, but I do respect it.
Ray: Shut up
before I change my mind. Now, in the care and operation of
this vehicle, there is one thing to remember and hold
above all
else. Never--I
repeat never--use the lighter. Of all the original parts
in this car, it was the most difficult to replace. It took
me seven years to find that lighter. And since I've owned
it? It's never been depressed.
Fraser: Then
how do you know it works?
Ray: I know in
my soul. Do not adjust the passenger seat, open up the
glove box or use anything other than the preset radio
buttons.
Fraser: I'll
take good care of your car, Ray.
Ian: Don't
worry about a thing. Really.
Ray: One final
piece of advice. The man sitting across from you is a
felon.
Ian: Accused!
Accused!
Ray: Do not
trust him, do not talk to him, do not listen to him, and
most of all, do not think of him as a human being. Think
of his as a parcel that needs to be delivered, and you
will be okay. Do you understand?
Fraser: I'll do
that, Ray.
Ray: Have a
nice trip.
Fraser: Thank
you, Ray.
Ian: Thanks.
Bye-bye.
Fraser: Oh, uh,
Ray? What's the best way to get to the I-90 from
here?
Ian: Oh don't
worry, I know. I'll show you.
[Vecchio has wide-eyed look on his face: 'I can't believe
this']
Fraser: Thanks,
Ray. Bye-bye.
[Riv pulls away;
Vecchio walks up to his porch, and waits... Riv
returns]
Fraser: Hi,
Ray.
[Vecchio loads his cases into the trunk]
Ray
: How far is it from Windsor to Miami?
Fraser: Ray,
this really isn't necessary.
Ray: Just
answer the question.
Fraser: 1,314
miles.
Ray: Okay, we
drop the guy off you take the bus back and I'm only 4
hours behind schedule.
Fraser: Well
not quite. Four hours and twenty minutes. Still have to
pick up Diefenbaker.
[Vecchio rolls his eyes
dramatically]
["Near The Canadian
Border"]
[Taurus bumper sticker: "My Canada Includes Quebec" and a
man wipes mud off the license
plate]
Laurier: They
left Chicago in the cop's car. Green 1971 Buick Riviera.
There's the plate number.
[into the
car]
Brock: They'll
be taking the interstate. We should get to them before
they reach Battle Creek.
[Norman gets in,
hands Brock the
money]
Thought I told you to pay him.
Norman: I
tried. He wouldn't take Canadian.
[they drive off; attendant's legs are hanging out of the door]
Norman
: What do we have left in the cooler?
Brock: The
sandwiches are for later.
Norman: Well
can I have a pop?
[highway;
Riv]
Ian: My hands
are cuffed behind me and I'm strapped into a seatbelt.
What if we get into an accident?
Ray: Shut
up!
Ian: I think
we're lost. Are you sure know where we are?
Ray: Yeah,
halfway between freedom and incarceration.
[to
Fraser]
You keep your eye on that map. I want a state by state
countdown until we get to Winnipeg.
Fraser:
Windsor.
Ray: Yeah like
there's a difference. Damn! I should have brought the snow
chains. Do we really got to cross the border?
Fraser: Yes,
Ray. Although you know, I imagine they'll have a dogsled
at the bridge, in case we should get stuck.
[chuckles, then
laughs outright]
Ray: See?
That's some kind of facetious Canadian humor.
[Fraser is
giggling]
The kind of thing that must really knock 'em dead up
around the baithouse in New Foundland.
Fraser: Sorry,
Ray. [wipes tears
from his eyes]
Ian:
[to
Dief]
Would you - back off! Get off
me! What is
he? Deaf?
Fraser: Yes.
You know, I think he feels sorry for you. He senses you're
in some kind of trouble, he'd like to help. You see,
wolves have a very difficult time understanding the idea
of incarceration.
Ian:
[to
Dief] Undo
my seatbelt. Yeah!
Fraser: But
they do understand the law, don't they Diefenbaker?
[Dief
whines]
So, Ray, once you drop us off at Windsor, your trip to
Miami should be fairly simple. You take highway 18 west
toward Leamington, then catch the ferry--
Ray: Ferry?! Is
Florida on an island?
Fraser: No.
This is the shortest way across Lake Erie. You know, you
might want to call ahead for the shedule.
Ray: What's a
shed-u-wal?
Fraser: It's
like a schedule.
Ian: It's every
hour on the half hour.
Ray: I'll
phone.
Fraser: And
then you get on the 250, travel one hundred and nine
kilometers--
Ray:
Kilometers? Look Fraser, when we cross the border you can
start talking in Canadian. Until then, let's stick to
English, okay?
Fraser: You
know, Ray, actually it's quite simple. Converting
kilometers to miles, you simply multiply by five-eighths;
so a hundred and nine kilometers would obviously be
sixty-eight and an eighth miles. Strictly speaking it'd be
sixty-seven point sixty-nine miles, but still, the
five-eighths rule is a very handy general guide.
Ian: You know,
I know the guy who invented kilometers.
Fraser: And
then from Milan, which parenthetically most people tend to
mispronounce
Mi-lan, you
would stay on the 250 through Norwalk--
Ray: I go
south, okay? That's all I need to know. I go south!
Ian: I have to
go to the bathroom.
Ray: Well, you
can go in Canada.
Fraser:
Ray!
Ian: Well, I
understand. You know, my father use to hate to stop. I
remember once driving through Pruett to a peace conference
in Machu Picchu--
Ray: You know
what, McDonald? I don't think you ever had a father.
Fraser: Were
you driving from Ayacucho or from Cuzco?
Ian: Actually
no. From Lima.
Fraser: Ah. How
fast are you going, Ray?
Ray: Not fast
enough.
[highway; Taurus, going very slowly, and a bus passes
them]
Laurier: Could
we go a little faster? Those kids in that bus were
laughing at us. It's one of those little short
buses.
Brock: I think
I'm already speeding. These stupid road signs. What's
sixty times eight-fifths?
Norman &
Laurier: Ninety-six.
[they pass the bus, kids laughing; Norman opens his coat
and shows the kids his
gun]
[highway;
Riv]
Fraser
: Ray, I think that was a state trooper traveling in the
westbound lane.
Ray: This is
the U-S of A, Fraser, cops do not ticket other cops. Now
just keep your eye on the map.
[Vecchio almost rear ends a guy, swerves into breakdown
lane]
Fraser: Sign!
[they almost hit
it]
Ray: Learn how
to drive!!
[to
Fraser]
Some people, huh?
Fraser: Well,
perhaps they weren't expecting someone to come up behind
them at roughly ninety-three miles an hour, Ray.
Ray: Hey, isn't
that what defensive driving is all about? Assuming the
other guy is going to do something stupid?
Ian: Whoo! That
did it. My kidneys are gone. We have to find a
washroom.
Ray: We don't
have washrooms in America. We have restrooms. The minute I
see a sign that says washroom, we'll pull over.
[to
Fraser]
What are you doing?
Fraser: Well
I-I thought I'd read that.
Ray: That's the
original manual! Do not open that!
Fraser: You've
never read this?
Ray: No, I've
never cracked it's spine!
Ian: I cracked
my spine once.
Fraser: No
one's listening to you, and no one cares.
Ian: Punctured
my kidney, which is why I--
Ray: Shut up!
Which is why you need to shut up! We'll stop when we need
gas.
Ian: Oh we'll
stop before that.
Ray: Wanna
bet?
[siren]
[cop hands Vecchio a ticket]
Ray
: Yeah, well you have a real nice day, too. I'm starting
to understand why people hate cops.
Fraser: He's
just doing his job, Ray.
Ian: Is it too
much to ask that a person to be allowed to relieve
himself?
Ray: Look, you
and I both know you're stalling for time. If you really
had to go you could have gone back there. I've already
lost twenty minutes of pool time. We're not
stopping!
Ian: Is this
the original
upholstery?
[roadside;
Taurus]
Cop: It's
really quite simple. To convert from miles to kilometers,
you simply multiply by eight-fifths. So the fifty-five
mile an hour limit obviously converts to eighty-eight
kilometers per hour.
Brock: I
appreciate the warning, officer.
Cop: You folks
have a nice trip.
Brock: Thank
you, officer.
Cop:
[to his
partner]
Nice folks, Canadians. You hear such stories.
[gas station
restroom]
Ian:
[voice]
It's not happening. There's too much
pressure.
Ray: Ya got ten
seconds before I start pumping bullets through this
door.
Ian:
[voice]
This really isn't a conducive atmosphere
for what I'm trying to accomplish here, okay?
Fraser: Perhaps
if you tried running the water.
Ray: Do you
have helpful hints for everything?
Ian:
[voice] It's
really not my fault. I've got a little bit of a shy
bladder--
[Ian tries to go out
the bathroom window, but finds Dief there and waiting for
him, so he crawls back in]
[highway;
Riv]
Ian: You guys
getting hungry?
Ray: Forget
it.
Ian: Aw come
on, I haven't eaten since the lockup. I know my rights.
You have to feed me every six hours.
Ray: Yeah, well
it's only been five.
Ian: Six. We
passed a time zone.
Ray: That
doesn't count. Fraser you tell him.
Fraser: Well,
actually Ray, the legal scholars seem to be fairly equally
divided on this point. One argument extended to it's
logical conclusion would provide that if you were
traveling west at a rate of speed high enough to cross one
time zone every hour, then you would never actually have
to feed a prisoner. That is, of course, until you cross
the International Dateline, at which point you'd have to
force the prisoner to immediately consume four meals. Now
the contrary position...
[Road sign: Battle Creek Next Three
Exits]
[restaurant]
Ray: All right,
you got ten minutes to eat, unless there's a time zone
between here and the counter.
Ian: I don't
believe this. I've been looking for this place for fifteen
years. My dad and I use to come here all the time. That's
our booth. Right there. That was our booth!
Ray: Yeah,
well from now on we'll call this our counter. Grab a
stool.
Ian:
[to
Fraser]
This is it, officer. Right here. I don't know how it
happened really. I mean, uh, one second he was just fine;
the next thing you know his throat just closed up on him.
I got lucky, cause I just managed to puke it up all over
the table. Look-look-look. Look. There's still pieces on
the chair. Right there. Sir, take off your pants, you're
sitting in evidence
there.
[people sitting at
the booth are grossed out & get up to leave]
Fraser: Um,
he's not telling the truth, no. We-we have no need for
your pants. Perhaps I should follow them. Tell them
there's no danger.
Ray: I'll send
'em a postcard. Come
on. Let's sit
down and eat. [at
waitress]
Hello. Yello. Yo, Miss!
Ian: This place
hasn't changed a bit. See, my dad was a sales rep, so
three, four times a year we had to go to South
Bend.
[Fraser buses the
table]
Ray:
[at
waitress]
Oh miss. Excuse me, miss? Uh,
miss? Yo!
Yo!
Ian: We'd leave
Kitchener at the crack of dawn. And by the time lunchtime
came around, I mean I was starving. And you know, he'd
always want to stop someplace else, but I'd say no, I
wanted to wait 'til we get here, because it's like our
place.
Fraser:
Curious. If you'd taken the interstate I would have
thought you'd be here in about five hours.
Ray: Fraser,
the man is lying, it's just another story. You want to do
something useful? Throw a flying tackle into the waitress
the next time she passes you.
[at
waitress]
Hey! Can we order here?!
Ian: They make
the best pancakes in the world. They use to have this
turntable right in the middle of the table with six
different types of syrup. Air conditioning blasting, the
syrup was always warm.
Fraser: Odd.
The windows face north.
Waitress: You
boys ready to order?
Ray: No, let's
go straight to the check. What's the fastest thing on the
menu?
Ian: I'll have
the blueberry pancakes.
Waitress: No
pancakes.
Ian: Of course
you have pancakes.
Waitress: You
see pancakes on the menu?
Ray: Right.
Hamburgers all around.
Ian: Look, do
you think you could ask him to make me some pancakes? I
used to come here when I was a kid.
Waitress: Then
you'll know we've never served pancakes. You want
everything on them?
Ray:
Yeah.
Ian: I hate
pickles.
Ray: Pick 'em
off.
[highway;
Taurus]
Laurier: I'm
telling you, it was Alaska.
Norman: It
wasn't Alaska, it was
Nebraska.
Laurier: It was
Alaska. It was yellow and shaped like a polar bear and
said 'Alaska.'
Norman: Alaska
is gold and blue. The Northwest Territories is shaped like
a polar bear.
Laurier
: No-No it's not!
Brock: If you
two don't shut up, I'm pulling the car over right now and
I'll shoot you both.
Norman: I got
'em.
Brock: This
better be Illinois plates on a Buick Riviera.
Norman: Yeah.
At the restaurant
Brock: That's
good, Norman. Nice
work.
[restaurant; Ian is rummaging under the
table]
Ray: You better
eat that burger, cause we're not stopping again.
Ian: I had a
hiding space down here. I used to flip out the baseboard
and leave stuff there. You know, toy solders and
marbles.
Ray: Are you
telling that story for my benefit? Because A, I don't
believe it, and B, I don't care.
Ian: They must
have fixed it.
Fraser: I don't
think this is the place you're looking for Ian.
Ian: Yeah. Who
cares, you know?
Fraser: You
remember when you said the syrup was always warm in the
afternoon? That would indicate westerly facing windows
which means the highway had to run north and south. The
most direct route to South Bend would have been highway
12, a slower road, which would have put you past Hillsdale
by approximately one o'clock. Now if I recall from the map
correctly, that highway dips south about 16 miles west of
that community. So actually Ian, I think you're off by
about 45 miles.
Ian: Do you
believe everything that people tell you? Huh? How do you
get through a day?!
Ray: Did I tell
you he was yanking your chain?
Fraser: My
mistake.
[parking lot;
Taurus. Music:
'Such is the Situation' by The
Sidemen]
Brock: You look
after the car.
[Norman goes to look
at the Riv, and Dief barks, attracting Fraser's attention;
Laurier and Brock enter the diner & start shooting;
Ian flees, and the bad guys go after him]
Fraser:
[to woman]
Are you okay?
[she
nods]
Ray : Yeah.
Fraser
: Go get the car, Ray.
[kitchen; Laurier
shoots at Ian; Fraser knocks the bad guys flat & runs
out after Ian, and into the waiting Riv; bad guys spill
out, then chase them in the Taurus]
[highway;
Riv]
Ray: Are they
coming?
Fraser: I don't
see them.
Ian: Did you
see that? They tried to kill me!
Ray: Yeah, the
bullets tipped me
off.
[highway;
Taurus]
Brock: You got
'em?
Norman: Just a
second. [buckles his
seatbelt, then looks at electronic
equipment]
'Kay, I got 'em.
[there is a tracking device on the Riv, inside the wheel well]
[highway; Riv]
Fraser
: There should be a state police post in Battle
Creek.
Ray: Forget
it!
Fraser: Ray, we
have to report this.
Ray: Look,
Fraser, there must have been a dozen people back at that
roadhouse. I guarantee that somebody called it in. If we
go in there, they're going to keep us there for hours
making out reports.
Fraser: Ray,
they opened fire inside a restaurant. We can't weigh that
against a couple hours driving time.
Ray: Okay,
here's what happens. We go in there, they call Welsh. I
don't get to go to Florida and you don't get your prisoner
to Canada.
Fraser: Still
I--
Ian: I think I
see them!
Ray: Look we
can't just pull off and start driving around in circles
and looking for help. I mean, how long do you think it'll
take 'em to catch up to us?
Fraser: Well,
if we keep going in a straight line, we're not exactly
going to be difficult to find.
Ian: Oh,
they're behind that truck!
[Vecchio screeches
into a turn, and gets off on an on ramp, barely missing
oncoming traffic]
[meanwhile, the Taurus passes them by]
[highway;
Taurus]
Norman: I think
they turned right.
Brock:
Where?
Norman: Back
there.
[turns the car around, and drives the wrong way down the
highway]
[back road;
Riv]
Ray: All right,
McDonald, you want to tell us who wants you dead,
excluding the immediate occupants of this car?
Ian: You
wouldn't believe me.
Ray: That I
believe.
Ian: They're
rogue Mounties. The RCMP does not want me to
testify.
Fraser: I don't
think they could be Mounties, Ian. The man in the hat
appears to be in his mid fifties, so he would have had to
join up when the height requirements were still in place,
and would have narrowly missed qualifying.
Ian: His
nickname is
Stumps. He
chased a guy through a lumber mill and lost 3 inches off
his legs.
Ray: Here.
Don't slap him, shoot him.
Ian: All right,
fine. You want the truth? You heard about the Basque
separatist movement?
Ray:
Next!
Ian: All right
fine, you want the real truth? Here it is. Those guys are
part of the Canadian mob.
Ray: There's no
such thing!
Fraser: On the
contrary, Ray, organized crime is a growing problem in
Canada.
Ray: Oh yeah,
what are we talking about here? Conspiracy to commit
jaywalking? Organized littering?
Ian: The guy in
the hat? Danny 'The Bull' Brock. One of his guys sticked
him on account, so he took him into an alley and shot him
eight times.
Ray: So is that
one time with eight bullets or eight separate times?
Because in America, after the third trip down the same
alley, we'd start to get a little suspicious.
Ian: I happened
to be looking out my window into the alley.
Ray: Yeah,
what? All eight times?
Ian: Hey, I saw
him do it. So the cops found out and they made me
testify.
Ray: Oh, and on
the stand you-you-- wait, don't tell me-- you lied?
Ian: Look,
these guys can get you anywhere, okay? I was protected
around the clock and I still managed to find a note under
my pillow. So, I fingered somebody else...except that he
happened to be in jail at the time of the murder.
Ray: Yeah, and
that was very
entertaining.
So what's your next story? We're being pursued by
plain-clothed toreadors?
[turns down a dirt
road]
Fraser: Ray,
this road isn't on the map.
Ray: It's going
East. That's all I need to know. All right, here's a
little trick they don't teach you in drivers ed.
[makes a wild
turn]
[back road;
Taurus]
Brock: Where
are they? Where are they?
Norman: I don't
know. [hits the
tracking device - no signal]
Brock: What do
you mean you don't know?
[Taurus passes the
dirt road]
[Riv; stuck in
mud]
Ian: I was a
driving instructor once.
Ray: Shut up!
All right, now you two rock back and forth when I gun the
engine. [starts
rocking himself back and forth]
Ian: No, no,
no, you're just digging yourself in deeper.
Fraser: I'm
afraid he's right, Ray.
[Vecchio gets out,
into shin-deep mud]
Ray:
Yahhhhh...Well, it looks worse than it really is.
[lifts his foot out
of the
mud]
Ahh! My shoe!
Mother Nature just ate my shoe!
Fraser: You
want me to get it for you, Ray?
Ray: No. What I
want is for us to get out of this ditch, drop this
psychopath off and drown my sorrows in coconut milk!! This
is what I want, okay? This is what I really want.
[Fraser gets into
the trunk & hands
Vecchio...]
And a flip-flop.
Ray: Okay, you
two push it out and I'll rock us out of here.
Ian: You're
taking me to jail and you expect me to help you out? I
don't think so.
Ray: Just get
back there and push.
Fraser: Well,
we can't actually make him do that Ray. Forced labor is
against the Geneva Convention.
Ray: Yeah well,
somebody's got to push it, somebody's got to drive, and
I've only got one shoe.
Ian: I'll
drive.
Ray: The hell
you will!
Ian: All right,
suit yourself.
Fraser: Ray.
[hands him the
keys]
Ray:
[sigh] All
right, all right, we'll push it out.
[Vecchio releases Ian's right cuff and puts it on his own
right
wrist]
Ian: You expect
me to drive like that?
Ray
: Yeah, but not too far. All right. On
three!
[Taurus]
Laurier: Gimme
that. [grabs the
tracking device, smacks
it] You
broke it.
Brock: Probably
double-backed. Son of a...
[screeches to a stop, and heads the other
way]
[Riv]
[Vecchio comes up
sputtering, face dripping with mud]
Ray: I said
three!
Ian: My foot
cramped.
Fraser
: All right.
[putting branches
& sticks under the
wheel] Oh!
Ray, look! Look I think I found...
[Vecchio's shoe,
crusted with mud; he looks at Vecchio's face, at the shoe,
then adds the shoe to the pile under the
wheel] All
right, I think we should have enough traction here.
Ray: Okay,
let's try it again on one. ONE!
[they push & rock the car out of the mud - Ian keeps going]
Ray
: Okay, stop the car, smart guy! Stop the car!
Ian: I can't! I
can't! My legs cramped up!
[Ian accelerates, Vecchio runs along
side]
Ray: Stop the
car, you slime-sucking toad!
Ian
: You better undo these things.
Ray: You can go
to hell! Fraser!
[Fraser runs, then
leaps]
Ian: Ow-ow-ow!
My leg, ow!
[Vecchio unlocks his own cuff as he hangs off the window, then tumbles away; Fraser is being dragged, se