Boardwalk Empire

To all swimmers, bathers,

sailors, landlubbers,

mermaids, sea serpents, and other creatures of the deep,

I, King Neptune, offer greetings.

As ruler of the Seven Seas,

lord of the boundless waves,

high constable of the coral caverns

and uttermost recesses of the depths,

I invite you to feast your eyes on my spellbinding sirens

and surrender to the allure of seaside enchantment.

To forget about life's stormy seas,

shipwrecks, and typhoons.

This morning, I unlock the joys of summer

and invite the denizens of Atlantic City to frolic in the spume and bubble

of my watery depths.

For the next 12 weeks, I command you...

What the heck is this? Must have fell off a boat.

Whiskey!

Look at this!

Forget about life's stormy seas...

I can't believe this! Whiskey!

Whiskey!

Why is everyone yelling?

Maybe it's a sea serpent.

...and typhoons.

Enjoy the pleasures of summer and...

Should I continue?

Just blow the fucking trumpets and leave it at that.

-(TRUMPETS BLOWING) - Very mayoral, Ed.

Come on, load 'em up. Let's go.

My back is killing me. I got these three.

A dozen fucking crates.

- Two, it was more like two. - Are you sure?

Why not three? Or fuckin' 12?

Two, it was two dozen, Gyp.

I want to see this pompinaio captain.

He said it was crazy out there last night.

- The waves were coming out every which way. - It's a fuckin' ocean, Tonino,

doing what it's supposed to! Why the fuck ain't he?

Could've been rogue waves.

What?

My cousin Franco. He's new.

Whole side of the family is fuckin' yammerers.

Tell me about these waves.

- Well, actually... - He don't know shit.

Worked on my uncle's fishing boat when he was a kid, so he thinks he knows...

Say what you're gonna say.

Nothing. It's just sometimes when the wind shifts,

waves crash into each other from different directions.

And when they do, they make giant waves.

It's easy to lose cargo if it's not strapped down.

Your father was a fisherman, huh?

- All his life. - Well, how come you don't know this shit?

- Well, I didn't... - His father was your uncle, right?

(DISTANTLY) All right, this car is all filled up.

- All right. Let it go. -...bring two here.

All right, we're gonna move it out, fellas. Let's go.

Fuckin' Sinbad over here.

- Good morning, sir. No peddlers.

- I'd like a moment... - Oh, go away. I not buy nothing.

What's your name, friend?

My name is "I Not Buy Nothing."

Not even a taste of the homeland?

Aquavit.

Perhaps you'd like to discuss this in back?

This from Norway?

Cicero, but it's made by a real Norwegian.

- You no sound like you from Norway. - My wife.

May I?

Ah, it's good.

Six dollars a bottle.

You give four to me, I give 20?

Very well.

You come back later, yeah? I have more money and I buy more.

Later, yes.

Thank you.

You did not drink your powder.

Gaston Means.

He is on the line.

- I'm not to be disturbed. Is that clear? - Yeah.

I'll begin the discussion, then, shall I?

A certain individual has manifested every sign of erratic behavior.

Jess Smith is Harry Daugherty's problem.

In my estimation, the Attorney General is rather

perfectly suspended between the bonds of loyalty

and the need for self-preservation.

- So let the son of a bitch hang there. - Yes, indeed.

But in the meanwhile, the likelihood is high

that Jess will say anything to anybody regarding everyone he's ever met.

Such is the nature of hysterics.

Your name would be on that list,

as I'm sure you've considered.

So would yours.

- Would it be difficult? - Mr. Smith?

Some finesse would be required.

Fortunately, I have experience in these matters.

What does that cost?

Forty thousand.

Are you there?

There are men who would do it for $10.

And you're free to hire them.

I hope you don't choose a surgeon on the same basis.

In both cases the outcome can be unexpectedly messy.

You'll get paid when I see the results.

Why are you leaving so early?

The Thompsons are expecting me.

Margaret, you mean.

I'm not a monkfish, Katy.

I'll not take your bait.

I was just wondering if Mr. Thompson knows his wife fancies the help.

We've been through this at great length.

I heard you the other day on the phone.

- I'm only doing my job. - Right.

Maybe she needed your help removing a pea from under her mattress.

Stop filling your head with foolish notions.

Then prove me a fool.

I'd be happy to...

At the altar.

Really?

We'll discuss it later.

Mr. Sleater, good morning.

Mrs. Thompson.

Mr. Kessler.

Is something wrong?

No, I just...

You come bearing secrets.

Nothing as fancy as that, I'm afraid.

What do you think, Mr. Kessler?

I... I do not understand.

Then I suppose you need to come clean.

It's...

It's Katy's birthday tomorrow,

and I'll be damned if I know what to give her.

And truly be damned I choose wrong.

A woman's touch.

I'm at your mercy, missus.

Well, let's discuss the possibilities.

You can bring the car around. I'll be down shortly.

Yes, ma'am.

You shouldn't toy with him.

He sees more than you think.

He's only seen us talking.

And soon, he won't see us at all.

If we botch this, he'll find out.

Mr. Kessler?

Mr. Thompson.

You'll need to leave first. I'll follow after.

When?

Can't say. Six weeks.

A month.

Why so long?

We leave together, then he knows.

And he won't forget. And there's no place far enough then.

What's St. Louis like?

I haven't a clue.

But Emmet's a mate from years back.

He'll set us on our feet.

And if it doesn't suit us, we'll...

We'll live among the Indians.

Aye. Or give it a go at least.

And Katy?

I'll leave one morning,

tell her something that sounds convincing, and she'll never see me again.

"A man, a plan,

"a canal, Panama."

What are you yammering about?

- It's a palindrome. - A what?

A word or phrase spelled exactly the same backwards or forwards.

Like "mom."

- Or imbecile. -(CHUCKLING)

- Well, no, that's not... - Where the hell is Owen?

I'll go see.

"A man, a plan..." What is it?

"A man, a plan, a canal..."

I have a fucking headache!

I'll tell you later.

Sorry I'm late.

Fill him in.

Heard back from my contact in New York.

Masseria goes to the Turkish baths every Thursday,

same time every week, 9:00 pm.

That might work.

Some place on Chrystie Street.

Popular with the locals.

Steamy, dark, people distracted.

Come up from behind, nice and quiet.

They got the mineral baths?

Is that fucking important?

He's keeping tabs on Masseria all day.

I'll go with you as backup.

No, you won't. You're going to Chicago.

- What the hell's in Chicago? - Johnny Torrio,

and with any luck, an army of men who'll help us out.

With Masseria gone, we'll take Rosetti out.

He'll be weak without Masseria's backing.

So all that extra muscle will fall by the wayside.

- Rats leaving a sinking ship. We'll still need help.

You pack your bags, too.

Tell me I'm going to Paris.

West Overton, Pennsylvania.