i'm invited.
mr. levine.
doesn't have a head, does he?
fine.
didn't think it was my buddy over there.
claymore.
scottish claymore. take a french epee, add twenty pounds of ballast so it means business, and you've got a claymore.
it's in good condition.
do you play?
very traditional.
i'd like to ask you about the claymore.
it's quite rare you know, some- thing so common in its time so well looked after all these years.
byzantine?
charming guy, basil. once after beating an army of serbians he blinded all but-
good reflexes.
i don't believe him.
he's too cool. too sharp. i think he's got something to do with it.
screw off, larry.
what could they hold him for? i think they're just waiting for something concrete before they haul him in for real. we should look into it. he had to have gotten that sword from somewhere.
i've seen nobleman swords that weren't as well preserved. it's just a hunk of peasant iron. why would he be carrying it around in an alley?
someone should check him out. maybe a collection somewhere got knocked over. he has one, he might have two.
give it a rest ned, huh?
so's playing choo-choo with two high school cheerleaders in the middle of-
you owe me. besides, i'm cute.
church hill, that's pretty close, isn't it?
taupin. taupin.
tarmin. tatum. taupin, richard marshall. born to william and karen taupin, no address. attend- ing physician, dr. willis kidell.
no thank you, i'm fine.
why?
then you didn't know richard later on.
i've been trying to find somebody who knew him and any connections his family might have had with museums or historical societies.
i don't follow you.
the boy _died_?
have you spoken to anyone else about this?
would you remember his name?
i'm just curious.
now there's a new topic.
thanks.
i can't figure out why he's doing it. he's been richard taupin at least since 1967. and the guys rich. you should see the stuff he has in that shop.
some guy named smith was asking about him in church hill. i passed his name around with your buddies downtown but they drew a blank. so he isn't a cop. district anyway.
dr. kidell had a picture in his file of the funeral. the father looked just like richard. even had a mark on his cheek.
p.d. says 41, but he barely looks
yeah.
mr. congeniality? let him find his own clues. there's a journal article in this somewhere.
sure.
someone beat you.
grave robbers?
who?
does carl smith?
i think you do. better yet, i don't think anything was stolen because nothing was there in the first place. and i think mr. smith, whoever he is, now knows that.
i've been to church hill.
i could find him.
i have friends.
what's wrong?
jesus christ.
why not?
what the hell is going on?
there was a count. count dusan. he would invite the local peasants to his chateau, fill them full of wine, then slice their bellies so he could reuse it. the symmetry of that somehow always appealed to me.
it's my birthday.
thanks.
buy a birthday girl a drink?
no, i-
mr. taupin? i have to talk to you.
he tried to kill me last night.
dupont circle.
who is he?
and you?
what will you do now?
he called you "macleod".
i left a man dead in felton. but you don't really care, do you?
he was innocent.
what about me?
i'm a witness to a murder. that seems to put me pretty high on your friend's chop list.
no.
i'd rather hear yours.
i'm a historian, mr. taupin. only once in a lifetime do you stare history in the face.
why does he want to kill you?
are you?
all i need is for you to check the name.
i'll take care of that corey, but i need this now.
corey, you _owe_ me.
yeah.
i'm doing it on my own.
some job. card filing and cabinet dusting. four years in this dump and i haven't written anything for wilson that a wounded yak couldn't do.
it's bullshit. everything. my job, the people i get involved with, i'm up to here with it.
who is it?
chris, have you seen my notebook?
why, that son of a bitch.
what's wrong wilson, huh? not enough excitement in your own desk? what the hell were you looking for in mine?
you better have a warrant. that's my notebook, you've got no right to be sticking your fingers into it.
what do you want from me?
i'm calling an attorney.
we've got nothing to say.
four?
spare me the details.
what are you getting at, moran?
it'll never stick.
you're an asshole, moran.
what makes you so sure he's the one?
what's all of this got to do with me?
research. if your pal was there i never saw him.
never take up poker, detective.
why don't you wait until it comes out in paperback?
go to hell.
no.
no. i had to talk to you.
you're wrong.
maybe.
is this what you killed them with?
our cars were seen together in felton. they're calling me an accessory to murder.
what's all that?
you did kill those men.
when you finish, what then?
you make it all sound so simple.
you want me to front for you.
yes.
the estate stuff is pretty straight forward. just lots of forms and an appearance at the county seat.
no. so what now? we just wait?
well, as long as we're stuck here.
it's some sort of party the town is throwing.
i thought it might be a nice break from all of this.
there's a catch. you're supposed to wear 19th century clothing.
it's beautiful.
fitted as well as can be expected in her lace dress, enters with taupin, himself dressed in a formal suit complete with cape.
what was all that about?
why?
what business?
i don't know any of these. i'll make a fool of myself.
william taupin seems to have left his mark.
and you are william taupin, aren't you?
you're using your son's name.
then you must be at least 70 years old.
that's impossible.
it's frightening sometimes the way you talk about other people's lives.
i hope i never get that old.
i must be insane. leaving work, ditching cops. all to follow a murderer. a very old murderer, but a murderer just the same.
i've been telling myself it's the award winning journal article i'm going to write. but it's not. it's you.
i'm not even sure why.
my life has been chock full of people with complications and weak- nesses. i can't stand it. but you're different. it's in your hands. a clarity.
just a little crazy.
my god.
who are you?
i'd like you to try.
that's why smith called you macleod.
he knows about you.
what could possibly be worth all this murder and distruction.
that's insane.
of bodies.
you killed those other two.
what about that family in '31?
you and your buddy make a real team, don't you? exchanging eloquent threats in iambic pen- tameter while hacking up all the innocents in between.
you kill with your left hand?
is that a threat?
don't.
damn you.
what is it like? being you?
but you're known so much. history i'll only read about.
what is it you want?
will i see you again?
do you have a drinking fountain?
has run out of corridor. she looks back at the knight closing the distance. crying in fear, she frantically searches for a way out.
oh god.
go away! oh god, go away!
you bastard!
leave him alone.
my god.
conor.
what's wrong?
what is it?
no!
conor.
what are we supposed to say?
the inheritance.
you have lived forever.
yes.