Bad Company

When there's been a reduction in force...

at the Central Intelligence Agency...

and you're the one who's been riffed...

it's not always easy to find a new job.

When a prospective employer asks for your skills...

you can't very well say that they've been blackmail, bribery...

subversion, the odd kidnapping.

Still, there are legitimate businesses...

who are looking for people...

exactly like you.

Question correct.

Question correct.

Question correct.

Question correct.

Question correct.

Question correct.

Question correct.

Time's up.

I haven't quite finished yet.

Almost no one does.

Those who do are geniuses. We're not in the market for genius.

Why not? Smart's smart, isn't it?

Genius bores easily.

Tends to brood, then to plot.

Palace revolts?

Sexual conquests, mostly.

- So, what's next? More tests? - No, that's the last.

After its scored, the computer will work up a total evaluation.

If it's satisfactory, you see Mr. Grimes.

What happens if the computer doesn't like me?

We wave good-bye.

I'm gonna call this one The Mitterand Misapprehension.

Mmm.

- So? - Just what we expected.

He's an aggressive, healthy heterosexual male...

with a superior IQ. of 141.

He's divorced, no children. Has a BA. from Michigan in Political Science.

Good Spanish, fair French, quite a little Arabic.

And according to his test results, just a touch of paranoia.

Paranoia's good. It keeps one careful.

How much was the bribe to the Iraqi colonel?

$50,000 in gold. The colonel swore he never got it.

Crowe swore he did.

The Agency paymaster believed the colonel.

So the Agency dismissed Mr. Crowe.

After he broke the paymaster's jaw, yes.

- Hello, Mr. Grimes. - Well. Mr. Nelson Crowe.

- Nice to meet you. - How do you do?

- Very well, thank you. - Late of Managua, Amman...

- Panama and other garden spots. - Yes.

Sit down, will you?

Welcome to the Tool Shed.

- Tool Shed. - Ah, it's a bit before your time, I suspect.

Those infamous and long-ago Senate hearings on covert operations run wild.

They called in old Nate Packer to testify.

- You've heard of him. - Oh, who hasn't?

He's a man of impeccable manners.

Answered even the dumbest of questions with care and courtesy.

Then somebody asked him the question he most wanted to hear.

80 old Nate puts on this stud poker expression of his...

and he tells the senators...

that the way to solve their loose cannon or rogue elephant problems in covert ops...

is to round up some fit, trained specimens...

much like Margaret here and yourself

and then lock them away in a tool shed until they're needed.

- He really said "tool shed? - Yes, he really did.

And that's when I had a flash of pure inspiration.

I told myself, the government is never gonna buy this brilliant concept...

but private industry might.

80 three years later, I left the Agency and began building my very own tool shed.

Must be paying off, unless it's all front.

You might be interested to learn that 21 of our clients...

are among the nation's top 500 companies...

and that's just our domestic side.

And we're equally active in foreign clients, Mr. Crowe.

Once the world sensibly turned from cold war to commerce...

we picked up half a dozen new clients...

a couple of them from behind the erstwhile Iron Curtain.

So we are thriving, I assure you.

Doing whatever needs doing, for a price.

Precisely. Do you care to join us?

- How much? - How much?

75, to start.

- Say 80. - Oh. He wants 80.

- He does. - All right.

- When? - When do you start?

Yes. - Would five minutes be too much for you to handle?

- Not a problem. - Margaret?

Let's say ten.

- Okay? - Very well.

- Pleasure. - Same here. Thank you, Mr. Grimes.

Nice neighborhood.

Oh, yeah, very respectable.

You'd be surprised.

Nothing much surprises me anymore, Miss Wells.

And somehow, that doesn't surprise me.

So what's our assignment?

Information's on a need-to-know basis.

All right.

- You know how to work one of these? - You bet.

-I wanna go higher, - Where do you wanna go?

I wanna go higher;

- I wanna go higher - Higher, baby

- What the fuck is this? - As of COB today, Mr. Cartwain...

you are no longer president of Curl Industries.

Maybe nobody told you, shit-for—brains...

but my sister is a major stockholder in Curl Industries...

and if that little prick thinks he can fire me... Your sister sees this tape...

of you and, um-

I-I don't think Mom's gonna like this, Uncle Johnny.

- Uncle Johnny. - Mm-mm-mmm.

Someday.

Yeah, right.

Where's my fucking money?

In the mailbox. Where else?

All in fifties, like I said?

Mmm. $10,000 in fifties.

You know what? That was kinda fun, wasn't it?

So, you're our F.N.G.

Yes, I am.

Your Fucking New Guy.

And you are?

Tod Stapp. With two p's.

Nice to meet you, Tod. Nelson Crowe.

Margaret brief you?

- On just about everything, yes. - Thank you.

- Everything but herself right? - Right.

Well, to answer a few of your unasked questions...

she's 36...

out of Holyoke, by way of the Agency.

- Married? - Single.

- And you call her... - Margaret.

Or Ms. Wells.

- Never Maggie. - Ah, Maggie.

What do you really call her?

Snow Queen.

Snow Queen. Right.

- Tell me about her, Margaret. - Who?

Cartwain's niece.

- Is she really as young as they say? - Younger. 16, at the most.

And pretty, hmm?

I hear they say she's very pretty.

Judge for yourself.

Yes.

Yes. Yes.

You know, perhaps you should have a copy of the tape itself.

- Perhaps I should. - Mmm.

You know, uh...

if it weren't for my health...

I would've sacked Cartwain myself.

For his, uh, obstinacy and treachery.

And now this, this incest thing.

Could've blown us out of the water on the Cross Creek case. - Could have.

Can't. Not anymore.

Let's talk about Cross Creek vs. Curl Industries.

According to our inquiries, the court is leaning 4-3 against you.

But I don't understand why. Cross Creek has no case.

The facts and the truth support us. All we want is simple justice.

Simple justice runs a bit high these days, Walter.

If the court rules in Cross Creek's favor, what'll it cost you? Hmm?

- Absolute minimum. - $25 million, at least.

Ooh.

Now, for only four percent of that, for a mere one million dollars...

you can buy yourself your very own state supreme court justice...

and a favorable verdict.

Are you sure?

Are you positive?

Take a look at us, Walter.

Do either Margaret or I look as if we want to go to jail?

Before you attempt to suborn a state supreme court justice or even a justice of the peace...

you first make sure he's got his hand out.

Way out. Way out to here.

Two no-trump, doubled.

Game and rubber.

How much, Les?

It's 970 to you, Beachie.

Phil gets off with 210, and the Doc...

breaks even.

I got lucky on that last finesse, judge.

Oh. It's not luck. That was skill.

Well, bedtime.

- Same time next week, gentlemen? - Mmm.

Care for a nightcap, Beachie?

- Goodnight, Judge. Goodnight, Les. - Sure. Good night.

I don't really want a nightcap.

I'm holding $19,000 worth of these already.

This'll almost make it an even 20.

I won't carry anyone for that much, not even a guy who's the older brother I never had.

Just 'til Friday, Les. Monday at the latest.

Look...

if you really need twenty or thirty thousand, all you have to do is ask.

But cards are my living, and if people know I'm holding your markers...

they might get the idea I've gone soft.

Easy.

And I can't afford that.

I understand, Les. I do.

- I understand. - No, you don't-

This afternoon I got a call from Bobby Birdsong, our mutual bookie.

Bobby's carrying you for $25,000...

and is so worried he offered to sell it to me for $15,000.