Paris Has Fallen

You realise champagne is supposed to be sipped?

That's only if you're paying for it.

You know, I just sat through a three hour E-I-C meeting.

Oh, I thought you lived for inter-agency cooperation?

Smile and do your time. It'll be good for your career.

Look, I'm supposed to help the Ambassador greet our guests.

- I'll catch you later. - What...

- Minister! - Rowan.

Are you here to protect me from these businessmen

who want to sell me things?

I'll try my best. Make sure we can catch up later.

Fuck off.

- (SONG 2 BY BLUR PLAYING) - (PEOPLE CHEERING)

- (WATER RUNNING) - (MUSIC CONTINUES INDISTINCTLY)

- (FAUCET CREAKS CLOSED) - (WATER STOPS)

- (PEOPLE SCREAM) - (SPEAKING FRENCH)

- (MUFFLED GUNFIRE) - (PEOPLE SCREAMING)

Don't shoot, please! Okay! Okay! Don't shoot!

Testing, testing, one, two. One, two. Testing.

Mesdames, messieurs...

I apologise for this intrusion, this interruption to your evening.

I assure you, I have no intention of hurting you.

Minister of Defence. Philippe Bardin...

Where are you, Minister?

Show yourself, please.

Stand up.

Rowan Alexander. MI6 Head of Station. Do you know who I am?

What d'you want?

When we've located the Minister then we'll get started.

- (FABRIC SHUFFLES) No, no, no...

- (GUN COCKS) - (MIME GRUNTS)

Are you okay?

- (METAL CLATTERS) - (GUNS FIRING)

- (GUNS FIRING) - (MEN GRUNT)

Drop it.

Kick it.

You got this?

Get down.

He was my friend.

Pulled me out of a burning jeep in Afghanistan.

Drop it.

Who are you?

I'm going to take out my ID.

Don't shoot me.

Take it out slowly and I won't.

Vincent Taleb. I am the Minister of Defense's protection officer.

Can I have my gun now?

Sure.

I'm Zara. This is Milo, the cloakroom attendant.

- You work here? - I work in HR.

I got lucky. The French Foreign Legion.

For someone in HR, you know a lot about special forces tattoos.

I have to find the Minister.

(POLICE RADIO CHATTERING INDISTINCTLY)

Do you remember me, Minister?

You're Jacob Pearce.

I want to show you something.

You see, this is what they do to you, mesdames, messieurs,

when you've been left to rot...

inside a Taliban jail...

for six years.

Strange. Being tortured, raped, it really focuses the mind.

And I've thought about you a lot.

What I would do to you, if I ever got out.

I did get out.

Please. I have a daughter.

I know. My men also had daughters.

They had sons, they had wives.

They had families.

And you betrayed them.

And they were slaughtered. Good men. All gone.

And that is because of you. Because of both of you.

If you want money, I can get you money.

Do I look like the kind of man who cares about money?

- By the way, you're very welcome. - For what?

For saving your life.

Are we still pretending you're in HR?

It's been a while since I did this kind of thing.

Move fast, kill the bad guys.

- Try not to shoot me. - That's incredibly helpful.

- Thank you. - (LOCK CLICKS OPEN)

Okay, when you hear the shooting, kill the lines. Here.

You've got one job to do. Don't screw it up.

Please...

You want to urinate?

Piss? Shit yourself?

I know. But, you're afraid of what the people here might think of you.

Don't be. Just let it go.

- (GUN FIRES) - (FLASHBANG ERUPTS)

- (PEOPLE SCREAMING) Move, move, move!

Go.

- (MAN SPEAKING FRENCH OVER RADIO) - (GUNS FIRES)

Move, move, move! Get out the way!

(OFFICERS SCREAMING ORDERS IN FRENCH)

- (IN ENGLISH) Go, go, go! - (SIREN CHIRPS AND WAILS)

- (MOBILE PHONE BEEPS) - (BOMB EXPLODING)

- (MAN ON RADIO SPEAKS INDISTINCTLY) - Okay.

Philippe? Philippe, please.

- (KNOCKING ON DOOR) - (DOOR OPENS)