Shaft in Africa

300? Not a happy figure, herr schmidt.

You guaranteed 750.

I don't care what your problems are.

Look, you fulfill your contract.

750, all in prime condition,

on the job in dusseldorf Monday.

Smoke bother you?

Where there's smoke, there's fire.

Brighten my day.

Call back.

Mr. Amafi.

Just one moment.

Good morning, Mr. Amafi.

Schmidt's making a delivery on Monday...

750 to dusseldorf.

From the Ivory Coast?

Only 300, the rest from Senegal.

Tell Angelo to come here, will you?

And get yourself a cup of coffee.

Yes, Mr. Amafi.

Yes?

Names, dates, places...

He's been a busy boy.

You sure he's the emir's son?

Took some persuasion, but he finally talked.

For the benefit of the others,

an example has to be made.

Kill him.

What about his father?

He's got a lot of clout.

He can't throw a spear all the way from New York,

now, can he?

Angelo, I said kill him.

What's happening?

Hey, some africans are looking for you, brother.

I don't know any africans, brother.

You come.

Woman: Central answering. Can I help you?

Yeah, baby, anything?

Yeah. Is that you, Mr. Shaft?

That's right.

Well, a Mr. Ramila's been calling you

every 10 minutes since 2:00.

You come.

You tell Mr. R. If he calls again,

that I got too many friends with troubles.

I don't do business with strangers.

Freeze.

Ooh!

Where did you study stick fighting, Mr. Shaft?

Conducting the New York philharmonic.

The emir will be pleased...

Also by the fact you're already circumcised.

Man: Mr. Shaft,

the temperature is 110 degrees.

Are you comfortable?

Shit.

I'd be a hell of a lot more comfortable

if you'd forget to pay your light bill.

We want you to walk back and forth across the sand

for the next eight hours.

If you survive, we will talk.

Man, I already got my tan. Let's talk now.

I said walk. Walk or die.

Very ingenious, Mr. Shaft.

Forgive us, Mr. Shaft.

This is emir ramila,

leader of the manta tribe in east Africa.

Out of my turf.

This is wassa, my brain,

and osiat, my strong right arm.

They will prepare you.

Mineral water, Mr. Shaft?

Quite pure.

Give me some scotch, man.

I know a great deal about you,

but until tonight, it was all hearsay.

I had to know.

Know what?

Would you kill a man?

Mr. Shaft, you fired two shots at osiat

without hesitation.

Yes, I learned. You would kill a man.

About those shots...

Why is the brother still breathing?

Next time, between the eyes.

My second question...

How good are you with a stick?

A cat named shaft

ain't going to be bad with a stick.

From childhood, the men of my tribes use the stick

to herd cattle, ward off hyenas,

and to fight.

If you were awkward with a stick,

it would have taken too long to train you.

Thanks for the offer,

but I live in a restricted neighborhood...

No hyenas.

Now, you want to call me a cab?

Third question...

Could you survive under desert conditions?

I liked what you did,

burying yourself in the sand.

We've found our man, Mr. Shaft.

You.

Okay, I'll walk.

I make you a most generous offer...

$25,000.

Is that American or Hong Kong?

$15,000 now, $10,000 later.

And what do I have to do?

Become a slave.

Colonel gondar, John shaft.

The colonel is

of the central police authority

in Addis Ababa.

He's working with us

and the organization of African unity.

A good deal of time and money

have been invested in selecting you, Mr. Shaft.

And I guess what you did is looked

in the Addis Ababa yellow pages,

and there I was...

John shaft, investigator, right?

It was somewhat more involved than that.

What's this slave jive, huh?

Two months ago

a truck crossed the border from Italy into France.

Gondar: The driver managed to escape.

The French authorities gave the men water

and time to rest,

then hustled them back across the border into Italy

and marked the incident closed.

What were they, Italians?

No, no, young africans.

This particular group had been smuggled in

from the Ivory Coast to Italy, then into France.

Smuggled, why?

To do all the dirty backbreaking jobs

white Europeans refuse to do...

Road gangs, factories, kitchens.

Maybe they needed the bread.

The recruiters are luring thousands of young africans

into Europe every month.

They've no work permits, no social security.

If they complain, they're deported.

They work a 16-hour day,

seven days a week for literally pennies.

This, Mr. Shaft, is slavery in the 20th century.

So why don't you just arrest the cats

who are hustling the people?

That's the end of that.

We want the men at the top.

We need a trained investigator...

Somebody they don't know

to infiltrate their organization.

To do this,

he has to let himself be recruited in Africa.

So why don't you just get an African investigator?

They know all our men.

So get someone who's not an investigator.

We did.

My son let himself be recruited in east Africa.

His body was found last week in Paris

in a ditch.

Uptown dude like me... spot me a mile away.