Memory

Oh, sh-- shit!

You are, uh, nervous.

It's okay.

When I first saw you, I said to myself,

"This is a man that knows what he wants."

He's just, uh, afraid.

Well, I'm not afraid, it's just that I--

I know, I know, It-- it is just the way...

things are.

But a man must pay to get what he wants.

Hmm?

That is why... we're all here, yes?

Yeah.

Go talk to her.

Come on.

She's very sweet.

Leon: You'll see.

Beatriz!

Hola.

Hi.

You wanna show me what you're drawing?

I'd rather not.

It's Beatriz, right?

Bedroom.

Ah, li-- listen, why, wh-- why don't we just talk first?

Okay?

You don't want to waste time with talking.

It's okay.

H-- how old are you?

How old do you like?

No, that's not what I meant.

I just want to get to know you,

g-- g-- get to know who you are.

- You like thirteen? - Come on, no, please!

- Twelve? - No.

Shit!

Beatriz: Papa! Papa!

Linda: FBI! Drop the gun right now, asshole! Drop it!

- Fuck you! - Fuck you too, pal!

- I die, she dies. - Hey, Leon!

Put the gun down. Put it down!

Nobody said anything about going back.

We can talk about all that,

when everybody's safe, okay?

You've lied! You all lied!

You don't want to hurt her, man. She's your daughter.

- Okay? She needs you. - You don't know shit.

I know you don't want this.

None of us wants this, okay?

Come on, you're a father.

Put the gun down.

Beatriz: Papa! Papa!

Papa!

Papa!

- Let go of me! Linda: Beatriz, no.

- Come on, get back! - Papa! Papa!

- Get her back! - Let go!

Beatriz: Papa!

Let go!

Papa Leon?

Yeah, I, uh--

Hold on, Serra, I wanna make sure I'm clear on this.

The lynchpin, the key to your whole investigation

is laying in a meat wagon with his brains smashed in?

Linda: Vincent saved lives, sir. The fucker was going out messy.

I don't care, Amistead.

What I care about, is an eleven month investigation

that has taken considerable resources

on both sides of the border.

- Is now well and truly fucked. - Not necessarily.

Nussbaum: Don't add insult to injury.

An undocumented child is not something

we build a trafficking case on.

Well, what the fuck is?

Sir.

We'll talk in the morning.

Mauricio.

Alex!

What's this? What's this?

Oh, my God, has she grown!

- Hmm. - What a sweet kid!

Ah, Pinches horses... expensive.

- Less than a divorce, I guess. - Yeah!

Nice work in Guadalajara.

That city is a fucking shithole.

Same as here.

I hate cities, the crowds,

the smells, the fucking gueros.

- No offence. - None taken.

Country's better now, don't you think?

Remember Tamalpais?

Those were Zeta scumbags.

Crazy days. Fun though, huh?

Uh, not exactly my idea of fun, Mauricio.

Right...

You're sensitive. An artista.

Jesus. Cheer up!

Life is good now. It's calmer.

More money, less blood.

Our friends got you something nice.

Mauri, you want someone else.

I'm not up for it right now.

Mauricio: Get up for it.

Job's in El Paso. You're from there, right?

Alex: Another reason to say no.

I'm trying to tell you, I'm getting out.

Uh, an iced tea, por favor.

The fuck?

You drunk?

U-- uh, no, no, just tired.

Alex. I need you on this.

You know the town.

It's too much.

The job is for two.

Don't you have a brother in El Paso?

Mauri...

Are you spying on me?

Mauricio: It's our job to know things, Alex.

So stop talking this retirement shit.

Men like us don't retire.

Receptionist: Here you go Mr. Marshall, you're all set.

Anything else I can do for you?

Mr. Marshall?

No, no, thank you. I'm fine.

The room number again?

11-0-6. It's on the key holder.

Ah, yes. Thank you.

Vodka Martini, please.

So, too early in the day for a glass of wine?

Or too late for a Bloody Mary?

Guess that depends on what kind of day

you wanna have.

That's up to you, isn't it?

Are you alone?