who the hell do you figure this guy's working for?
it ain't gonna kill me.
the briefcase ain't here. he must've taken it with him.
maybe we should leave him a little message to let 'em know we're playing hardball.
i taut i taw a puddy cat.
i did, i did.
those bastards. they're rubbing it right in our faces.
don't worry, we'll get it back. and i'll tell you something else. they ain't gonna reach aspen, either. i'll make sure of that.
don't worry, ironside, he just flew south for the winter.
the boys are holed-up in a little love nest for the night. i think they're a couple of fucking weirdos.
unlikely from what i've seen.
hold on a second, mr. andre.
sorry, boss. you were saying?
don't worry. i'm on it.
where's the goddamn dog?
lie down on the front seat. after they pick me up i want you to follow us. then he folds his arms and the two killers wait for the van to come along.
these fuckers are really pissing me off now.
you guys going as far as des moines? my car died and i'm late for a business meeting.
why don't you both stop being a couple of pussies and go at the same time. it ain't that hot.
have some water. it'll help.
aw, shucks, that's right. water just makes it worse.
it's mental. i'm just sitting down to a nice meal with our boys.
nothing yet, but i'm gonna shake 'em own for information at lunch. then i'm gonna kill 'em for dessert.
relax, they ain't gonna be running around anywhere after i dump a little cyanide in their pops.
feeling any better, boys?
so tell me, why you fellas headed to aspen? vacation?
doesn't look like you packed much. all i saw was a couple bags.  and that briefcase.
you mean you don't even know her?
talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
you son-of-a-bitch!