bloom, we've hit a one hat town.
sweet jesus. look at that.
pixie stix.
the playground bourgeoisies.
talk to her!
what?
not a thing.
a plan.
and this is where we start.
oh - kay. how's it going on the playground front?
so, on to step eleven, then. the tale. you tell them -
bloom. they're not your friends. they're part of this, and this aint real. remember, it's a con. and when it's done, we've just got us. and we'll be moving on. so, the tale. you tell them there's a
that's good. he stopped you coming home from school.
if you can keep up.
ah-hah. the hermit didn't say. he got this greedy glinting look, the filthy red-eyed leech.  and said he'd tell for thirty bucks.
it seems to me that in the end, the perfect con is where each one involved gets just the thing they wanted.
so how's it feel?
let `em melt.
we're a genius, bloom.
so does real blood. buy you a drink.
"four months and a thousand years ago." that's kipling, isn't it? he stole that from kipling.
just think of any card. got one?
but if i do it enough, eventually it'll work on someone. and then it'll be the best card trick in the world.
that's true.
la chinoise?
our fifth beatle. she knows the ins and the outs, and so far as i can tell, speaks three words of english.
just till the wind changes.
who doesn't? that's the big 2.
we missed the sunrise. that would've been nice.
back to the swamps!
then you make a show of putting on your jacket and say `no i mean it this time stephen, this time i'm really out.'
that's a major design flaw in fake blood, by the way.
real blood turns brown after a half hour.
this scotch costs more than your suit.
and the flask stopped a bullet from a black powder rifle at appomattox.
that's my new favorite camel.
tell me what you want.
you want an unwritten life.
sorry bud. i'm dry.
she's right, you know.
put on your face, let's eat.
the chink.
how've you been?
i've done a lot of thinking the past three months. you don't want out. you think you do but you don't. here, c'mere. i want to show you something.
new jersey.
big money. inheritance. dad died early, mom died two years ago after ten years fighting an illness that i can't pronounce.
look out.
stick with me.
penelope stamp. thirty three. lived at home her whole life.
she's bored, a seed in the snow. we're going to put her through a grand adventure, bring her to life.
it's actually pretty simple. we're brothers, antique dealers, perusing the americas for antiquities en route to someplace exciting via luxury steamer, say greece. you tie into her and work your magic.
and so that's how it ends, in mexico, a burst of violence then a moment of truth on the beach. what do you think?
this might not be something you know, but they've all been about you. maybe that's why they've none of them been perfect, i've never been able to give you what you really want.
i will never approach you to do another con again. let's make it a red schwinn.
wahk wahk wahk wahk wahk wahk wahk. score to beat is 7.9. keep your head in the game, the chinese judge is tough.
the chink had it - i'm telling him, i know, thank you - in her report, i missed it. this is actually kind of great, i'll tell you why.
dostoevsky was an epileptic.
his seizures were preceded by an enlightened euphoria, a sort of opening of his spiritual eye.
you'll have two weeks on the boat.
it isn't the talking that hooked her.
pleased to make your acquaintance. bloom's told me about you, you're the epileptic photographer?
this is my personal secretary and masseuse, mrs. yuengling.
heh. no. so what are your plans in greece?
good for you.
i was writing in a bar. and she doesn't drink, how does she know a philly beer?
yes it was. did he spot you?
i invited him, sit down. this ship's too small to dance around each other for a week, we might as well have it out now. bloom. sit. penelope, do you know our friend?
we have a legitimate antique reselling business.
we've gone straight, max.
we did. eat your waffles.
were. we've been on the straight for three years. so that's that.
huh.
double dutch queens uses gaffed cards.
jesus.
no. but something about her is worrying you plenty.
the day i con you is the day i die, bloom.
he's beautiful, right?
i'm not sure he is. i'm to bed.
shut up. i know what i'm doing.
have at thee, you ham headed bastards!
a book of hours.
wonder who's his fence?
not bad.
the curator? that's a relative term. he's telling the truth.
take it easy. she's having fun, that's the point of this.
what smugglers song?
the whole point of this was to sweep her off her feet. let her enjoy it.
nothing lasts.
the last time i was in prague, i was in love.
pale skin. long feet. so.
bloom and i will secure us lodging,
mrs. yeungling will scout the castle museum.
you will go to the bank, that wire should have cleared if you put it in at athens.
only movie thugs and russians deal in suitcases of cash. draw a certified check.
candy-gram. it's us, max.
today.
tomorrow. now what about this argentinian.
we'll see you back at the hotel. soon.
i'm sorry i wasn't there.
no, i guess can't.
i'm a big fan of tonal shifts. i didn't write it for him, though.
i don't know.
max?
i don't get it. if he was hightailing it he could have waited eight hours till we traded the million for the book, and had some traveling money. well. back to antiquing. nothing gained, nothing lost. and you got to see prague, which is nice.
oh?
the check was cashed yesterday afternoon, he'd have deposited it in a swiss account. i'm sorry pen.
we'd need to clear the administrative offices. some sort of disruption.
she's an artist with nitroglycerin. it's kind of her thing.
check the tat.
there's a smoke detector in these empty rooms in the east tower. so we plant and set off a tiny - tiny tiny, tiny charge.
ready?
ok.
because going in alone is a very important thing to do. she's walking into a zero security tourism office during a fire drill and taking a five hundred dollar manuscript replica from a utility crawlspace. worst case scenario, a file clerk asks if she's lost. which isn't even going to happen. she's in position.
they're locking down the castle, she won't get in.
let her sleep. train doesn't leave till eight.
yeah, i know.
an apple?
mexico.
oh-kay. we're rendezvousing with senor rioso's guys here, on an isolated beach just south of the mexican port town tampico. a simple handoff. penelope and yeungling will stay with the car, bloom and i will do the handing.
well i'm not thrilled they set this in mexico. there could be legitimate reasons, but mexico's - and i don't want to simplistically vilify an entire country, but mexico's a horrible place. so we'll be careful.
the last box in our last con. let them begin the beguine. how's it feel?
uh huh.
be angry at me, you son of a bitch. don't be pathetic. make you? jesus. i told you not to fall for her-
i don't believe you.
you have to switch it on at the base.
disappointed.
it doesn't matter now. this is the way it ends. so let's get it over with.
i ate it.
no.
i'm sorry you fell in love with her. but she's a mark. and all of this, all of it is a con. every moment you shared with her, you were just playing the part of a man falling in love. that's what you're afraid of, right? that you don't know the difference? or maybe that there is no difference. that that's what love is.
no. you're too scared to leave. you're scared to ride off into a sunset that isn't painted tarpaulin, cause real sunsets are beautiful but they turn into dark uncertain nights. if you were ready for that, you wouldn't be here. the money is in my bedroom. right behind me. but in my story you don't get the money or the sunset or the girl.
tastes like tin foil.
hey. i think that was the most honest conversation we've ever had. you actually connected on a few of those punches.
i was disappointed. but i wasn't surprised.
hello?
uh.  nine-ish?
so she comes back wanting to work with us. honestly? i think we'd be lucky to have her. if you called me to hear my opinion on the matter. which i'm getting the feeling you didn't.
so maybe you want to tell me what i'm doing in ferentino.
one point seven five.
you want me to plan a con whose sole purpose is to blow her off for good?
before we do the next job, we need to liquidate our assets from the last job.
your money from the last job, well that's profit, not capital, the three of us have already split it up. so step one: sell the book of hours.
with all your random expertise we couldn't risk a flat out fake. it isn't worth two point five million, we could maybe catch four hundred grand for it, but it's real. who'd we buy it from?
perfect, we'll sell it right back to him.
all traceable. with minskie out we'd have to go deep black market if we wanted to be a hundred percent clear. there's only one place that's deep enough for that.
we're obviously not going to deal with real russians. they'll be our guys in a phony set up, they'll take our phony book and give her phony cash, a closed loop. safe and simple.
our "russians" have arrived.
hm?
we need someone who can pass for the russian mob to buy our fake book. the dog's got his big store right here in st. petersburg.
what's he gonna do? steal our fake money? i've thought this one out, believe me. and we can't end it without him. trust me. it's gonna be ok.
this'll do. we'll do the drop off at your store. make it scary, think a movie version of the russian mafia, but don't hassle her.
so. our fake russian attack. one small charge will simulate a bullet hit, and blow out the back window.
alright. let's get the hell out of russia.
out!
no! no bloom, freeze.
did penelope wire the money?
they're calling to check right now. don't move. i'm alright.
stay back!
you said it, not me.
tastes like tin foil. alright here's what i want you to do. the chink split?
how?
good. here's what. take penelope back to helsinki, take that flight to rio. lay low like we said. play out the on-the-run-from- vengeful-russians thing, that'll be fun for her. play it like i'm dead, actually - that'll add some gravity to everything, that'll be nice. and i'll see you when i see you.
i hope not. last thing you need is me hanging around. anyway, how could i top this?
hey. think of any card.
you're the only audience i've ever needed.
let's get the hell out of russia.