The Truth About Charlie (2002) Movie Script
The queen of Sheba | will soon come crashing down...
Daddy was just a girl in disguise.
Oh.
Excusez-moi, monsieur. | Merci.
- Whoa.
Attendez.
I beg you, please. No!
No! No!
Hercules, darling, | how could you do that to me? | I begged you.
I just couldn't resist. | You couldn't resist it? | I don't believe it!
Oh, Sylvia, | what am I gonna do?
How can I ever | explain it to him?
Well, Regina, | break it gently...
and then soak him | for all he's worth.
Oh, I don't even care | about the money.
All I ever really wanted | was someone...
Excuse me. | Does this belong to you?
Now what's he gone and done?
Well, he was creating | a fairly sophisticated | surveillance system...
behind the ladies' cabanas.
You see? He's completely | out of control.
It's all that | nascent testosterone. | Oh, yeah.
It's the scourge of the planet, | that stuff. Herky, sit.
Thanks for not turning him in.
Oh. You're welcome.
Well...
- See ya. | - Quitter.
What?
Nothing.
You called me a quitter.
You give up awful easy.
Ooh.
Yeah. Hi.
Oh.
I think it's okay to | ask your name now that | we're in another country together.
Regina... Lambert.
Joshua Peters. | Charmed.
I'm gonna ask you something | real quick and make it like | ripping off a Band-Aid, okay?
Ow. Go ahead.
Is there a Mister Regina?
Not for long.
Your ride didn't show?
Yeah. It's par for the course, | I'm afraid.
Well, you need a hand?
Yes. Yes, that would be great.
Thank you.
Merci.
I would invite you in, | but it's not...
I get it. | Nice neighborhood.
Fancy. Well,
I'm off.
It was a pleasure | meeting you, Reggie. | Good luck.
It was really nice | meeting you too.
Oh. Something | to remember me by.
"Caribbean. " | I've just come back | from there, but...
- You'll have to read it and | find out what you've missed.
Maybe next time | you're in Martinique | you'll be single.
- See you around, Reggie.
Pardon.
It's Regina,
but that's okay.
Charles?
Honorine?
Charles.
Charles.
Charlie.
Oh.
Madame Lambert?
This is your husband?
Monsieur Charles Lambert?
Your husband's body was found | next to the train tracks,
just outside of Montpellier.
Were you aware of his departure | from France Thursday?
Charles travels all the time.
His effects included | a one-way airline ticket | from Barcelona...
to Caracas, Venezuela.
Also one to Rio deJaneiro, | Brazil.
Does he know anyone | in Caracas?
In Rio?
Your husband was American?
No. Wait. No.
Charles is Swiss... was Swiss.
His profession?
Art dealer. | Where is his gallery?
He did most of his work | over the telephone, | on the computer.
Okay. Family?
I believe I'm all there is, | Commandant.
He was an orphan... | an only child.
Non, merci.
Charles Lambert...
was a wealthy man?
We live"... lived" quite well.
Why did you | say his name like that?
Is this | your husband's passport?
I believe so.
Yes.
You see? Switzerland.
Swiss.
And this?
- Uh... | - And this?
And this?
Oh!
Perhaps I will have that ciggy.
Forgive me, | but you are married | only three months.
- Is that illegal? | - And your marriage... | a happy one?
I was about to ask | Charles for a divorce,
if you must know. | I see.
How many financial accounts | did you and your husband hold?
Excusez-moi, Commandant.
Why haven't you found the killer yet? | Where are my belongings?
Where is our furniture? | Why is my apartment empty? | Who tore it apart?
Your husband liquidated | the contents of your flat...
through three | reputable auction houses | and cashed the proceeds,
roughly the equivalent | of $1.8 million immediately.
Madame, there is not | a trace of this money | anywhere.
La Direction Centrale | de la PoliceJudiciaire | is confident of this:
When we find the money, | we find the killer.
Search him.
- Ooh!
No. Nothin'.
Okay. The cops don't have it, | and Charlie's clean.
Then who the hell's got it?
One Hermes wallet, | belonging to Charles Lambert,
containing 1,000 French francs,
1,500 deutsche marks, | 300 U.S. dollars, 5,000 pesetas,
50 Caribbean dollars.
The keys to Flat "B,"
12 Rue Desbordes Valmore.
Your residence?
One "trousse de toilette,"
containing the usual items,
including one tube ofTopol, | "the smoker's tooth polish."
Mrs. Lambert? "All?"
Yes. | One letter,
stamped and sealed, | addressed to you.
Addressed to me?
My dear Regina, | today I'm off to Cannes.
Got a lead on | a couple of Renoirs and maybe | a Schnabel and a Basquiat.
Can't wait for your return. | Thought you might be amused | by the enclosed clipping.
Love, Charles. | P.S., the tailor called.
- Your dress is ready. | - Show me the clipping.
There was none included.
We took the liberty | of calling your tailor.
We thought perhaps | we would learn something. | Did you?
Yes. Your dress "is" ready.
His agenda.
Charles Lambert's last day | was busy.
To us, largely meaningless.
It is your right as next of kin | to claim the possessions | of the deceased at this time.
Blah, blah, blah, blah, | et cetera, et cetera. | If you will sign...
Your cooperation today | will be noted.
Noted? | Commandant Dominique,
do you actually believe | I had something to do | with my husband's death?
Madame, I'm sorry,
but professionally,
I'm obliged to accept | that possibility.
Regina?
Joshua.
Your husband. | Reggie, I'm so sorry.
God, you terrified me.
I'm awfully sorry. I... | I saw it on the news tonight.
This is the most horrific | day of my life.
What a nightmare.
I've got to get out of here.
The next thing I know, caution | has obviously been thrown to the winds.
We're at the Portabella | retrospective in Berlin,
visiting his old friends | in Uganda, Sarajevo, Montral.
Impulse marriage | at the Chelsea registry office.
It was... | It was all so exciting...
so promising at first.
Whirlwind romance. | Moved to Paris.
And then...
Then seems like he's | always off on business.
I'm mostly alone | in this huge flat.
And now...
And now...
Now I'm slightly drunk, | I'm afraid.
You're a good listener.
No.
You're a good talker.
Have you ever been in love | in Paris, Joshua?
Uh, I can't say that I've | had that pleasure, Reggie.
Well, | you're still young.
Maybe you still | have a chance.
That'd be nice.
Oh, yes. A bed. | Oh, thank God.
Thank you.
You are welcome.
Sweet dreams then.
What?
I'm gonna crash. | Room 28, second floor, | if you need me.
Oh.
Sleep well, okay?
Oh! Charles's bag.
Wha... Oh.
Sorry. | Good night, Reggie.
It's Regina, you know. | Nobody calls me Reggie.
Nobody at all, huh?
Not till now anyway.
Good.
Merci.
Oui.
Bon soir. | Bon soir.
Bon soir. | Bon soir.
Monsieur? | Hmm? "Oui, madame?"
Je peut vous aidez, Commandant? | For me. | Do something for me.
Okay. I will.
Peut-je avoir votre passeport, | s'il vous plat?
Sure thing. May I ask | what's up here, Commandant?
Monsieur?
And already you're moving her | into your hotel?
Tucking her in at night? | Tsk, tsk, tsk.
Hmm, it's kind of | a damsel in distress thing.
Yes, I know. | Slain husband, missing money.
Cops breathing | down her neck. | Exactly.
And now | the mysterious stranger.
Okay. Fine. | You're here on holiday?
Actually, I live here | off and on.
She's a real beauty, | isn't she?
I suppose she is. Yes.
I always wonder | with a woman like that...
what kind of guy actually | gets to go to bed with her?
Well, in this case, | a dead one, I guess.
Well, surely you're not | suspicious of her, Commandant.
No? | Well, she just doesn't | seem like the type.
Which type is that? | The murdering type?
Mm-hmm.
Cheese. Cheese.
Merci, monsieur. | I'll take that, Mrs. Lambert.
Mr. Bartholomew? | How do you do?
Wait here, Pierre.
Sorry our first meeting | has to take place under | such unhappy circumstances.
We have a great deal to cover, | and I'm on a bit of | a tight schedule today.
How you holding up? | I'm bewildered, | to tell you the truth.
French police | been bothering you?
They seem to think I had | something to do with this... | this hideous...
I'm afraid we can't interfere | there... not just now anyway.
I want you to know | you'll have every protection | the United States has to offer.
Protecting British citizens? | Isn't that a little bit | out of your jurisdiction?
Your husband occasionally | lent his services to us | here at the O.D.C.
The what?
Most secure | talk space in town.
The O.D.C. Office of Defense | Cooperation, Mrs. Lambert.
We, of course, knew your husband | by his real name, Charlie Lake.
Now, Mrs. Lake, | I'd like you to look at | this photograph, please,
and tell me if there's | anyone you recognize.
Have a good look.
Charles, of course.
What about the other three?
Afraid not.
They worked with Charlie | almost three years ago | on an operation...
of an extraordinarily | delicate nature.
I "get it."
I need to assess just how | precarious your situation is.
Now, this gentleman | who escorted you | to your hotel last night.
A friend. Joshua Peters. | He has nothing to do with this.
- How long have you known Mr. Peters? | - Actually, I just met him.
Oh, boy.
Look, I don't mean | to be intrusive,
but we don't know quite | what Charlie was up to...
or who he was up to it with.
- But we do know $6 million is | a significant amount of money. | - Six million?
- Is that what this is about? | - Correct.
I want to make it | perfectly clear that even | if we wanted to, which we don't,
we couldn't force you to do it.
Your decision must be | entirely your own, Mrs. Lake. | What decision?
To work with us.
If you think I'm | getting mixed up in this, | you're absolutely bonkers.
- You already are mixed up | in it, Mrs. Lake. | - Stop calling me that.
- We want that money back, | Mrs. Lambert. | - I don't have it.
Oh, yes, you do. You have it. | You just don't know you've got it.
A misplaced key to | a safe-deposit box, a certified | check in tomorrow's mail,
or a baggage claim ticket | tucked in a paperback.
If you look for it, | you'll find it.
You may not have | a great deal of time either.
The people in that photo... | They know you've got it | just as surely as we do.
You won't be safe until that money | is in our hands. Is that clear?
This is my direct cell line.
Don't lose it, Mrs. Lambert. | Call me anytime, day or night.
And, please, this is crucial. | You mustn't betray...
the confidentiality | of this dialogue.
You must not tell anyone | about coming to see me.
Certainly. No problem. | I promise you.
It's clear that you're | a very decent person, Mrs. L.
That's a rare quality nowadays.
Tough situation you're in here, | but I feel for you.
God bless.
His agenda.
Charles Lambert's last day | was busy.
To us, largely meaningless.
"12:00, 8 Rue des Rosiers,
Clignancourt. " | The flea market.
Twenty-four.
Four. Okay.
Nine.
So then eight must be...
Pardon. | Regina, right?
My name is Lola. | I knew your husband.
I see.
So, were you | Charlie's trophy, Regina,
or his partner?
Do you know what | I'm talking about when | I say Operation Verify?
How about this? | Forty-six Eppler-cut diamonds?
Believe it or not, | Lola, I don't want that money.
Okay. | So you know about it.
You just don't want it. | I see.
I may be the only one, | but that's how it is.
Charlie ripped off | some very dangerous people.
I don't know anything | about my husband's | business interests.
Hmm. | I though you just said... | I don't mean to be rude,
Then don't be. | But are you finished?
Not quite. | See, your husband...
messed us up...
something fierce.
Regina,
am I getting through to you | at all here?
Reggie?
Regina.
We earned that money.
We want it. | "We dese"rv"e it."
Are you all right? | Was that woman giving you | a hard time?
You could say that. | Yes, she was.
Joshua, what are you | doing here?
I can't believe this. | I saw you getting your cab | back in town.
I followed, almost lost you | a couple times.
Just caught up in time | to see you coming inside here.
I really do seem to be | caught up in a terrible mess.
Yeah, but why are you here | in this neighborhood, in this place?
I don't understand. | A notation in Charles's | date book...
"8 Rue des Rosiers." | I'm trying to make sense | of his last day...
the places that he went to.
Joshua, it's not just | that Charles was murdered.
There's all this other money... | government money | that's gone missing.
And there are other people...
who want it.
And that man is one of them.
So was the woman | in the alley.
Ah! Monsieur Peter.
I'm gonna get my messages, | and then I'll get that stuff | in my room.
I'll meet you upstairs? | Okay.
Great fish. And I hear | their wine list was...
- Have a good look. | - I think you have...
something that belongs to me.
In here?
- Joshua! | - All right.
Get your filthy... | I'm just trying to | open the bag.
- Reggie. | - Calm down.
I will not calm down.!
Reggie.
- Joshua!
Hey!
Go!
- Wait. | - Go.
Joshua.!
Joshua! Joshua!
- Hello? | - Mr. Bartholomew.
They're here. | I saw them. | Mrs. Lambert.
The ones in the photograph.
Describe them to me, | Mrs. Lambert.
Emil Zadapec.
II-Sang Lee.
Lola Jansco. | All three, very dangerous, | highly capable individuals.
It's absolutely imperative | that I see you as soon | as possible, Mrs. Lambert.
Reggie? | Mrs. Lambert?
- Coming. I've got to go, | Mr. Bartholomew. | - Please use extreme caution.
Yes, I will. I promise.
Oh. | Everything all right?
What about you?
It might be a bit wrinkled. | My dress.
Are you okay now? | Oh, I'm still shaking.
What happened? | What did you do? | Oh, nothing much.
I don't think | he'll be bothering you | anymore though.
How you doing?
You know what's wrong with you, | Joshua Peters?
What?
Absolutely nothing.
Mmm. | I feel a little funny | about this.
My kisses are funny?
You hungry?
Yeah. | Great.
Starving. | I got lots of goodies.
I'm... I'm gonna shower first.
Okay.
Just make yourself | at home, okay?
Reggie?
How'd you know | about those people today?
What? | Those three.
And the missing money.
Where did you find out | about all that?
Uh, shoot.
Uh...
Look...
I'm afraid I can't tell you.
I promised.
Promised? Who?
I'm sorry.
I want you to hear this. | Huh?
It's Aznavour. | You know him?
"- Shoot the Piano Player," right?
Exactly.
- Hello? | - Hello, Mrs. Lambert.
Don't hang up on me. | Look, I'm sorry | about the elevator.
- I have nothing to say to you. | - We've gotta talk.
Who is it? | The guy from the elevator.
- What? Give me the phone. | - Wait. Who... | Is that Dyle there?
Who? | Mr. Dyle.
Has he laid his little | Charles Aznavour routine | on you yet?
What's he saying?
Yeah. That's right. | Reggie.
Okay. | Nobody wants to hurt you.
- Reggie, what did he say? | - All we want is what's ours. | We know that you have it.
Dyle's not to be trusted.
He wants your money. | He'll do any...
What did he say?
That if I don't | give him the money, | he'll kill me.
Why would he kill you? | He's just saying that to scare | you, Reggie. That's all.
As long as they think | you have that money... | Then why is Charles dead?
He obviously knew | where that money is. | Reggie, listen.
I'm on your side, | and I wish you'd tell me | everything you know...
promises or no promises... | so I could be of some help.
I think you'd better go, | Joshua.
I'm afraid | I've lost my appetite.
Oh.
I'm very tired.
I understand. It's... | It's been a long day.
Please, | I really need to think.
Well, just remember, | I'm on your side.
Yeah.
Hey!
You people | want to get rich or not?
Don't go getting | all rhetorical on us now, Dyle. | Hey.
Answer my question. | Rich or not rich?
Does she have the money | or not, Dyle?
I think she does.
Here's my problem. | You say there was nothing | with Charlie in the train,
in his bags, | in his clothes... whatever.
But size up, Dyle, it's all smoke. | You got zero credibility | around here.
You're right, Lola. | I already got what I want.
Yet I choose to subject myself | to this bullshit anyway.
You just want to | get in her pants... anyway.
Zadapec, I'm not even touching | your psychodrama in the elevator | and your crazed phone call.
You know what, Dyle?
One more | little crazed phone call...
this time to | the Paris police department... | and they have Charlie Lake's killer.
Isn't that right?
Right?
Now don't forget that | the next time you come | waltzing in here.
Don't forget that for a minute.
All high and mighty | like you're God's gift to us.
Zad?
He's right, buddy.
No more | loose cannon stuff, okay?
We're stuck with him | for the time being,
and he is stuck with us.
Cool, Zad?
Okay, maniac?
The only way this works | is if she trusts me.
Lose that, end of story.
Hey, Zadapec.
Your phone call really | spooked her. I want you to | tell me exactly what you said.
Well, you're not gonna like it.
Mr. Bartholomew?
Are you there, | Mr. Bartholomew?
- Shh, Mrs. Lambert.
Shh, shh, shh, shh. | What's going on, | Mrs. Lambert?
Mr. Bartholomew. | Yes.
Who is Dyle? | What about Dyle?
The man in the elevator... | Zadapec... | Zadapec. Yes?
He called | Joshua Peters "Dyle." | Zadapec called Peters "Dyle"?
Tell me about him. | Dyle.
Now. | Okay. All right. | Um, okay. Uh...
Carson J. Dyle. | Major, Special Forces.
Highly decorated | in the Gulf War. | Mogadishu.
Then he drops out. | Head honchos Global Options,
the top-drawer service outfit | of the '90s, till | his untimely demise.
Demise? | Death, Mrs. Lambert.
I know what demise means, | Mr. Bartholomew.
Carson Dyle | was terminated in 1998...
by Eastern European | militia near the former | Yugoslavian border,
40 kilometers east of Sarajevo.
Now, wait. | Dyle worked with Charles? | He knew Charles?
Unfortunately for Dyle, yes.
In '98,
Dyle mounted a special ops unit | for a high-level covert | hostage extraction...
on behalf of the O.D.C.
In those days, the O.D.C. | Couldn't deal directly | with outside contractors.
That's where | your Charlie Lakes came in.
He was | an independent facilitator.
The O.D.C. would put him | on the research payroll | for a limited time.
He would book the professionals, | negotiate with the adversaries...
wrangle all the slimy details.
Your husband brokered the deal | to go in, transfer the assets | and get our man out.
Keep going. I'm with you.
The unit choppered in, | accompanied by Charlie,
transporting $6 million | in internally flawless, | Eppler-cut diamonds as ransom.
They were ambushed | shortly after landing.
Carson Dyle and most | of the Global Options team | were totally decimated.
Cut to ribbons. | Never had a chance.
Your husband and the three | from the photograph...
were the only ones | to make it out alive.
We believe those four | stashed the diamonds...
with plans to return | and claim them for themselves.
But how did Charles manage to...
The four of them lied | during the inquiry and waited.
We believe Charlie Lake | broke from his agreement | with the other three,
recovered | the diamonds on his own | and completely vanished.
And maybe Carson Dyle lived. | Trust me, Mrs. Lambert.
Carson Dyle is dead.
You've gotta find out | everything you can...
about your enthusiastic | new friend Peters...
or Dyle, | or whatever his name is.
We need to know | how he fits into the equation.
Oh, Mr. Bartholomew, | I already told you.
My great goal is for | far less involvement | in this sordid mess. Not more.
I was wrong about you, | Mrs. Lambert.
Meeting the widow | of a man like Lake...
Well, I was expecting...
a siren, a harpy, a shrew.
But you... | You have decency, dignity...
what my father | used to call gumption.
I'm very touched.
You are actually quite sweet | for a stars-and-bars | company man, aren't you?
You've discovered | my secret side, Mrs. Lambert.
Keep it under your hat.
Boo!
Excusez-moi, mademoiselle.
Merci, mademoiselle.
Ah. She left this | for you, Mr. Peters.
Aznavour!
Merci, monsieur.
Hello? | Bonjour, monsieur.
Uh, is he an American? | Yes, he is.
One moment, please. | I'll try to find out. | Merci, monsieur.
Oh, my God. | You "are" Dyle!
- Reggie? | - It's the only name "I've" got.
Reggie, we need to talk.
I've never been so betrayed | and humiliated in all my life.
- I had to make sure | that you weren't involved. | - You had to make sure...
I wasn't involved! | No, no. | That's not what I meant. I...
Merci, mademoiselle. | Merci beaucoup, monsieur.
You're meant to be dead, | monsieur.
I do owe you an explanation.
Reggie, my name | is Alexander Dyle. | Carson was my brother.
Shake hands? | "How do you do?"
You have got to be joking.
Reggie.
Reggie. | It's Regina!
I can explain everything. | Monsieur Philippe.
Reggie, wait!
Please, Reggie, | you gotta listen to me.
Reggie, Charles and | the three people following you...
they betrayed Carson.
They stole the money | he was entrusted with.
I'm trying to get to the truth | by conspiring with them.
Well, how noble of you | to embrace their techniques.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry, really, | about your brother and everything,
but give me a break.
Reggie, I hate | that you're caught up in this.
But at the same time I'm glad...
because it means that we've met. | I liked Joshua Peters, | and now he's gone.
Monsieur. | Oui.
Stay here in Paris, | Reggie. With me.
Don't buy that ticket.
What do you think?
- Madame?
La, la, la, la, la! | Bye.
Did you mean what you said | in the taxi?
Everything. | Which part?
The part about that | you're really, really...
glad that you met me | or something like that.
Deeply.
That's sweet... Alex.
I'm still going to London. | Wait.
No, you're not.
You're not goin' | anywhere, Reggie.
Reggie?
Ladies and gentlemen, | welcome.
Whoa!
"Okay," crise cardiaque.
Cardiac arrest. "Mort subite." | Sudden death syndrome.
Our preliminary | forensic reports.
And nobody wants to offer me | a more complicated explanation?
Okay. Regina?
A word with you alone, | s'il vous plat. | The rest of you may leave.
Commandant, I was hoping to | remain here with Madame Lambert.
You especially, monsieur, | may leave.
I was hoping that maybe | I could be of some assistance.
Merci, monsieur. | Au revoir.
That's okay.
You said yesterday that | your husband was an orphan.
An only child? | That's right.
A woman showed up at the morgue | early this morning.
From the provinces. Rully.
She identified | your husband's corpse | as her unmarried son.
Charles du Lac.
"Du Lac"?
Du Lac... Lake.
Charlie Lake. | The old woman said...
her husband beat her son, | and her, without mercy.
Every day. Until one evening | the father fell to his death | from a bedroom window.
Fourteen-year-old Charles | left home the next day.
She's seen him only occasionally | in the years since then.
Why are you telling me | all this, Commandant?
The woman seemed | quite deranged.
Hmm. | I worry for her.
She's convinced | you are responsible | for her son's death.
The missing money. | Well, there | should be a club.
Unfortunately, she's already | on a train back to Rully.
- Ah! | - Regina, I trust you.
You're not a suspect here.
But I do believe you can | lead us to the killer.
And I very much want | your help.
- Commandant... | - Please, Regina. Call meJeanne.
Merci.
I trust you, too.
You will cooperate? | If it means getting | to the truth, yes.
Exactly what kind | of cooperation did | you have in mind, Jeanne?
Whatever it takes to help us | find out everything possible...
about your mysterious | Mr. Peters and his friends.
Whatever it takes?
I'm asking you to find out | everything you can, Regina.
Open up. Dig deep.
Just be very, very careful.
Okay, everybody.
The moment you've | all been waiting for.
- Charlie's last day.
You too, Alex. Dive in.
Okay, here's | Charlie's letter.
You satisfied?
Tell us about Sarajevo, | Mrs. Lake.
Sarajevo? How did you | know about Sara...
I mentioned you told me | a little about your travels.
Mrs. Lambert. Carson Dyle | was terminated...
in 1998 by Eastern European | militia near the former | Yugoslavian border,
forty kilometers | east of Sarajevo.
You've got nothing | to hide, Regina.
You can tell them | about Sarajevo.
What about Sarajevo?
Tell us about your border crossings, | custom checks,
any chance encounters.
We need to know | everything about Sarajevo.
Okay.
I'll start from the beginning.
Very good, Mrs. Lake.
Bon apptit.
Is that table | reserved for them?
They don't know | about this place.
Oh, you didn't tell them | we were coming here? | No.
Unlike everything else about | us, what I confided in you, | et cetera, et cetera.
Reggie, what did the cop want | when she asked you to stay?
She doesn't seem to | like you very much, Alex.
Am I still | allowed to kiss you?
Yeah.
Mm. | Mm.
Oh, that's nice.
Really nice.
There's one other thing.
Which is? | I told them it was me | that killed Charles.
Why would you say | a terrible thing like that?
Okay, Reggie, | I'm gonna ask you again.
This person you don't want | to tell me about?
What do they know about Charles? | I don't want to | play that game anymore.
I don't want to | play any games anymore.
I never break a promise.
- Listen, Regina.
I've really gotten to like you. | I think you're very special.
Yeah. I'm sure. | "Now, can I have that money?"
Right. Hand it over. | I couldn't | stand you when I first met you.
I thought you were so stuck up. | But now I've got a crush on you.
Aw, shucks, girl.
Watch out for Dyle, | Regina. I mean it.
Putting in some overtime?
I see I'm not the only one.
You better back off, Lola. | Did you tell her who | killed Charlie yet, Dyle?
Back off, Lola! | You back off.
Pardon.
- All right. I'll get one.
Oh, eh, allez.
- Go-o!
Lachez-moi!
Quelle salope.!
No!
Lola?
Regina? D-Dyle.
Lola, you hold on. | There's help coming.
D-Dyle.
No, no, no, no. Lola, | he didn't really kill Charles.
- He just told you that, I promise. | - Dyle. Dyle.
N- No.
No.!
Oh, Lola.
We were entitled | to a share of those diamonds,
after what we went through,
Mrs. Lake.
She said, "Dyle." | It's the last thing she said.
- Oh, Reggie, I... | - Yeah. Yeah.
- And in the club, she said, | "Watch out for Dyle." | - Reggie, I...
Why have you never | gone to the police | with your suspicions?
Your brother's death? | Those three? Charles?
I guess I want | that money too.
This is... | very illuminating.
- I'll see you tomorrow? | - Tomorrow?
It's Saturday.
Charlie's last day.
Good night.
Good night, Reggie.
Hmm.
"My dear Regina, | I'm off today to Cannes.
"Got a lead on | a couple of Renoirs, | maybe a Schnabel...
"and a Basquiat.
Can't wait for you."
Oui? All? All?
- I've got it. | - What? What have you got?
I know. | Why didn't I think of that?
Listen. Lieutenant Dessalines will be | over in ten minutes to get you.
We've got some work to do. | I'll get my people ready,
- and see you at headquarters | in half an hour, okay? | - Brilliant.
"12:00 noon. 8 Rue des Rosiers.
Clignancourt. | The flea market. "
- D'accord.
Je vous rappelle | dans quinze minutes.
D'accord? | D'accord.
Let's go over there | and take a look.
Fancy meeting you here. | Hi.
You find what you were | looking for, Alex?
Reggie, you've found | something, haven't you?
Well, well, well. | The gang's all here.
What's left of it, anyway.
Excusez-moi, monsieur. | Oui?
Yes. Just a little.
Also some "Japonaise." | Mandarine.
Tragic history, monsieur.
Mister Hyppolite's place.
He made a great fortune | last week.
He was, uh, retiring.
Going to see the world.
Ahh! Hmm.
Next day,
he was dead.
What did he sell? | Hector?
He traded in | postage stamps.
Stamps? | Yes.
The collectors called him | "The Seeker."
He could find | anything for you.
If you could afford. | Ahh!
Stamps?
What's he doing, Reggie? | Where's he going? | Where's he going?
I don't know! | Alex!
Get you hands off of me.! | Alex.!
Stamps! | Where is it? | What are you doing?
Where's Charlie's bag? | Where is it? | What?
Where's what? | The envelope!
The stamps!
Hello?
Watch out!
Chtelet.
Hello? Monsieur?
Where is everybody?
Monsieur?
Hello?
Oh, no.
It's not here. | Is it?
- You killed him! | - Of course I didn't.
- You're a murderer! | - Reggie!
Reggie.! | Reggie, don't be ridiculous.!
Reggie.!
Reggie!
- Reggie!
Reggie, wait.!
Reggie!
Reggie! Wait!
- Mr. Bartholomew! | - It's okay, Mrs. Lambert. | You're safe now.
- Are you armed, Mr. Bartholomew? | Thank God. | - At all times, Mrs. Lambert.
Well, this is convenient. | This is him.!
Joshua Peters, | Alexander Dyle... | whoever he is.
You have the assets, | Mrs. Lambert? | Wait a minute.!
The assets? Reggie! | Is this who you've been...
- No. Yes! | - So. My long-lost and | nonexistent kid brother Alex.
A.K.A. Mr. Bartholomew.
Nice to meet you.
No!
I've never seen | a ghost before.
- Pleasure's all mine. | - What's going on here?
Reggie, my name | is Lewis Bartholomew.
- Really? | - I'm a special investigator for | the Unites States Office...
of Defense Cooperation.
- Really? | - Your secret partner here | is the real Dyle.
Carson Dyle.
Mrs. Lambert,
I am Carson Dyle.
Obviously I didn't die in Yugoslavia. | Came mighty close, though.
When I asked you | about Dyle, you...
- You were describing yourself. | - That's correct, Mrs. Lambert.
I was shot up pretty bad.
Totally incapacitated.
Check on Dyle!
Unlike the others, | Charlie knew I was still alive.
He's dead!
- Chief! | - Chief!
But he told them | I was dead.
Dyle is dead!
Took the money and ran.
My God. | A farmer | and his family found me.
He was a Muslim. | His wife Christian.
They hid me, | got me to a hospital...
where a great little lady doc | put me back together.
And you've been tracking | Charlie Lake ever since.
I located him in Paris.
- Reinvented as | "Charles Lambert." | - He got wind of you?
I always told myself | I'd give Charlie | the benefit of the doubt.
I wouldn't kill him | if he gave back the money.
So long as he didn't lie.
And you did kill him?
He did lie.
Charles never told | the truth about anything.
None of you do.
Mr. Dyle. I'm really moved | that you want the O.D.C. | To get their money back.
I always complete | my assignments.
However, we still don't have | the missing funds.
And you've got blood | all over your hands.
Is it your intention | to arrest me?
- Look.
One of eight known | remaining,
inverted U.S. | "Teddy Nickels"... | X.F. grade, 1928.
The legendary | Algerian Oran 60,
original slash mark | intact, 1952.
And the true masterpiece, | the mahogany Urate Lornis,
Madagascar 1906.
The most valuable | postage stamp on | the face of the earth.
There you are, Investigator. | My work is done.
Just hand that over now, Reggie. | It's U.S. Government property.
- Reggie!
Re...
- I don't believe you just did that.
I do.
Whoa! | Carson Dyle?
Police.!
Restez calme.
- Personne ne bouge.! | - Dessalines, doucement.
You look like hell, | II-Sang Lee.
Here for you, Chief.
Carson.
Mr. Dyle.
Question. | Okay?
You didn't happen to bump | into Zadapec on the 11:20 | to London yesterday, did you?
Check on Dyle.!
Dyle is dead.!
- Chief!
- That is correct. | - I see.
Were you outside the Tango Palace | when Lola bought it?
- Chief! | - No!
- That was most unfortunate.
You've lost a lot. | None of it's coming back.
What's your point, Bartholomew? | You still have | your honor, Carson.
I've got a suggestion.
Tony?
Eric?
Put 'em down.
Chief.
See you in court, | Commandant.
It will be my pleasure.
You're under arrest | for the murder | of Charles Lambert.
On y va.
Shit!
Morning, Ernie.
Good morning, | Mr. Bartholomew. | Bonjour.
Bonjour, | Mr. Bartholomew.
Here are your messages. | Your mom called.
Hey, is that for me?
Is everything okay, | Mister "B"?
Miss Hoskins? | Yes, sir?
Some tea, please?
Coming right up, sir. | Thank you.
Hey, boss. | How are you, Chief?
Good job, guys.
Ah, non, non, monsieur...
I'm sorry, Mr. Bartholomew. | She's okay.
Come in. Please.
Well, well, well.
"Bartholomew."
You can call me Lewis.
This is for you, Lewis.
My late husband's minor fortune.
- Mm-hmm. | - What? But before? The fire?
Laser copies, courtesy | of Commandant Dominique.
Thank you, Reggie.
I'm not a thief. | I know.
So long, Lewis.
Quitter.
You give up | awful easy, don't you?
Not really. | Please.
Don't go. I hated deceiving you. | I'm so sorry.
Please.
All that time, | you should have trusted me!
Revealing my true identity | was never an option, Reggie.
But I never tried | to hide my feelings for you.
Oh! Lewis, what | are you really like?
There's only one way to find out.
Why should I? | Because I love you.
What?
I love you, Reggie. | And...
You've got to be kidding!
No. Never.
Oh, you're luckier | than you realize, Lewis.
Why? | 'Cause I was about to walk | out of your life for good.
And the crazy thing is... | Yes?
I would have regretted | that for...
several weeks, probably.
Daddy was just a girl in disguise.
Oh.
Excusez-moi, monsieur. | Merci.
- Whoa.
Attendez.
I beg you, please. No!
No! No!
Hercules, darling, | how could you do that to me? | I begged you.
I just couldn't resist. | You couldn't resist it? | I don't believe it!
Oh, Sylvia, | what am I gonna do?
How can I ever | explain it to him?
Well, Regina, | break it gently...
and then soak him | for all he's worth.
Oh, I don't even care | about the money.
All I ever really wanted | was someone...
Excuse me. | Does this belong to you?
Now what's he gone and done?
Well, he was creating | a fairly sophisticated | surveillance system...
behind the ladies' cabanas.
You see? He's completely | out of control.
It's all that | nascent testosterone. | Oh, yeah.
It's the scourge of the planet, | that stuff. Herky, sit.
Thanks for not turning him in.
Oh. You're welcome.
Well...
- See ya. | - Quitter.
What?
Nothing.
You called me a quitter.
You give up awful easy.
Ooh.
Yeah. Hi.
Oh.
I think it's okay to | ask your name now that | we're in another country together.
Regina... Lambert.
Joshua Peters. | Charmed.
I'm gonna ask you something | real quick and make it like | ripping off a Band-Aid, okay?
Ow. Go ahead.
Is there a Mister Regina?
Not for long.
Your ride didn't show?
Yeah. It's par for the course, | I'm afraid.
Well, you need a hand?
Yes. Yes, that would be great.
Thank you.
Merci.
I would invite you in, | but it's not...
I get it. | Nice neighborhood.
Fancy. Well,
I'm off.
It was a pleasure | meeting you, Reggie. | Good luck.
It was really nice | meeting you too.
Oh. Something | to remember me by.
"Caribbean. " | I've just come back | from there, but...
- You'll have to read it and | find out what you've missed.
Maybe next time | you're in Martinique | you'll be single.
- See you around, Reggie.
Pardon.
It's Regina,
but that's okay.
Charles?
Honorine?
Charles.
Charles.
Charlie.
Oh.
Madame Lambert?
This is your husband?
Monsieur Charles Lambert?
Your husband's body was found | next to the train tracks,
just outside of Montpellier.
Were you aware of his departure | from France Thursday?
Charles travels all the time.
His effects included | a one-way airline ticket | from Barcelona...
to Caracas, Venezuela.
Also one to Rio deJaneiro, | Brazil.
Does he know anyone | in Caracas?
In Rio?
Your husband was American?
No. Wait. No.
Charles is Swiss... was Swiss.
His profession?
Art dealer. | Where is his gallery?
He did most of his work | over the telephone, | on the computer.
Okay. Family?
I believe I'm all there is, | Commandant.
He was an orphan... | an only child.
Non, merci.
Charles Lambert...
was a wealthy man?
We live"... lived" quite well.
Why did you | say his name like that?
Is this | your husband's passport?
I believe so.
Yes.
You see? Switzerland.
Swiss.
And this?
- Uh... | - And this?
And this?
Oh!
Perhaps I will have that ciggy.
Forgive me, | but you are married | only three months.
- Is that illegal? | - And your marriage... | a happy one?
I was about to ask | Charles for a divorce,
if you must know. | I see.
How many financial accounts | did you and your husband hold?
Excusez-moi, Commandant.
Why haven't you found the killer yet? | Where are my belongings?
Where is our furniture? | Why is my apartment empty? | Who tore it apart?
Your husband liquidated | the contents of your flat...
through three | reputable auction houses | and cashed the proceeds,
roughly the equivalent | of $1.8 million immediately.
Madame, there is not | a trace of this money | anywhere.
La Direction Centrale | de la PoliceJudiciaire | is confident of this:
When we find the money, | we find the killer.
Search him.
- Ooh!
No. Nothin'.
Okay. The cops don't have it, | and Charlie's clean.
Then who the hell's got it?
One Hermes wallet, | belonging to Charles Lambert,
containing 1,000 French francs,
1,500 deutsche marks, | 300 U.S. dollars, 5,000 pesetas,
50 Caribbean dollars.
The keys to Flat "B,"
12 Rue Desbordes Valmore.
Your residence?
One "trousse de toilette,"
containing the usual items,
including one tube ofTopol, | "the smoker's tooth polish."
Mrs. Lambert? "All?"
Yes. | One letter,
stamped and sealed, | addressed to you.
Addressed to me?
My dear Regina, | today I'm off to Cannes.
Got a lead on | a couple of Renoirs and maybe | a Schnabel and a Basquiat.
Can't wait for your return. | Thought you might be amused | by the enclosed clipping.
Love, Charles. | P.S., the tailor called.
- Your dress is ready. | - Show me the clipping.
There was none included.
We took the liberty | of calling your tailor.
We thought perhaps | we would learn something. | Did you?
Yes. Your dress "is" ready.
His agenda.
Charles Lambert's last day | was busy.
To us, largely meaningless.
It is your right as next of kin | to claim the possessions | of the deceased at this time.
Blah, blah, blah, blah, | et cetera, et cetera. | If you will sign...
Your cooperation today | will be noted.
Noted? | Commandant Dominique,
do you actually believe | I had something to do | with my husband's death?
Madame, I'm sorry,
but professionally,
I'm obliged to accept | that possibility.
Regina?
Joshua.
Your husband. | Reggie, I'm so sorry.
God, you terrified me.
I'm awfully sorry. I... | I saw it on the news tonight.
This is the most horrific | day of my life.
What a nightmare.
I've got to get out of here.
The next thing I know, caution | has obviously been thrown to the winds.
We're at the Portabella | retrospective in Berlin,
visiting his old friends | in Uganda, Sarajevo, Montral.
Impulse marriage | at the Chelsea registry office.
It was... | It was all so exciting...
so promising at first.
Whirlwind romance. | Moved to Paris.
And then...
Then seems like he's | always off on business.
I'm mostly alone | in this huge flat.
And now...
And now...
Now I'm slightly drunk, | I'm afraid.
You're a good listener.
No.
You're a good talker.
Have you ever been in love | in Paris, Joshua?
Uh, I can't say that I've | had that pleasure, Reggie.
Well, | you're still young.
Maybe you still | have a chance.
That'd be nice.
Oh, yes. A bed. | Oh, thank God.
Thank you.
You are welcome.
Sweet dreams then.
What?
I'm gonna crash. | Room 28, second floor, | if you need me.
Oh.
Sleep well, okay?
Oh! Charles's bag.
Wha... Oh.
Sorry. | Good night, Reggie.
It's Regina, you know. | Nobody calls me Reggie.
Nobody at all, huh?
Not till now anyway.
Good.
Merci.
Oui.
Bon soir. | Bon soir.
Bon soir. | Bon soir.
Monsieur? | Hmm? "Oui, madame?"
Je peut vous aidez, Commandant? | For me. | Do something for me.
Okay. I will.
Peut-je avoir votre passeport, | s'il vous plat?
Sure thing. May I ask | what's up here, Commandant?
Monsieur?
And already you're moving her | into your hotel?
Tucking her in at night? | Tsk, tsk, tsk.
Hmm, it's kind of | a damsel in distress thing.
Yes, I know. | Slain husband, missing money.
Cops breathing | down her neck. | Exactly.
And now | the mysterious stranger.
Okay. Fine. | You're here on holiday?
Actually, I live here | off and on.
She's a real beauty, | isn't she?
I suppose she is. Yes.
I always wonder | with a woman like that...
what kind of guy actually | gets to go to bed with her?
Well, in this case, | a dead one, I guess.
Well, surely you're not | suspicious of her, Commandant.
No? | Well, she just doesn't | seem like the type.
Which type is that? | The murdering type?
Mm-hmm.
Cheese. Cheese.
Merci, monsieur. | I'll take that, Mrs. Lambert.
Mr. Bartholomew? | How do you do?
Wait here, Pierre.
Sorry our first meeting | has to take place under | such unhappy circumstances.
We have a great deal to cover, | and I'm on a bit of | a tight schedule today.
How you holding up? | I'm bewildered, | to tell you the truth.
French police | been bothering you?
They seem to think I had | something to do with this... | this hideous...
I'm afraid we can't interfere | there... not just now anyway.
I want you to know | you'll have every protection | the United States has to offer.
Protecting British citizens? | Isn't that a little bit | out of your jurisdiction?
Your husband occasionally | lent his services to us | here at the O.D.C.
The what?
Most secure | talk space in town.
The O.D.C. Office of Defense | Cooperation, Mrs. Lambert.
We, of course, knew your husband | by his real name, Charlie Lake.
Now, Mrs. Lake, | I'd like you to look at | this photograph, please,
and tell me if there's | anyone you recognize.
Have a good look.
Charles, of course.
What about the other three?
Afraid not.
They worked with Charlie | almost three years ago | on an operation...
of an extraordinarily | delicate nature.
I "get it."
I need to assess just how | precarious your situation is.
Now, this gentleman | who escorted you | to your hotel last night.
A friend. Joshua Peters. | He has nothing to do with this.
- How long have you known Mr. Peters? | - Actually, I just met him.
Oh, boy.
Look, I don't mean | to be intrusive,
but we don't know quite | what Charlie was up to...
or who he was up to it with.
- But we do know $6 million is | a significant amount of money. | - Six million?
- Is that what this is about? | - Correct.
I want to make it | perfectly clear that even | if we wanted to, which we don't,
we couldn't force you to do it.
Your decision must be | entirely your own, Mrs. Lake. | What decision?
To work with us.
If you think I'm | getting mixed up in this, | you're absolutely bonkers.
- You already are mixed up | in it, Mrs. Lake. | - Stop calling me that.
- We want that money back, | Mrs. Lambert. | - I don't have it.
Oh, yes, you do. You have it. | You just don't know you've got it.
A misplaced key to | a safe-deposit box, a certified | check in tomorrow's mail,
or a baggage claim ticket | tucked in a paperback.
If you look for it, | you'll find it.
You may not have | a great deal of time either.
The people in that photo... | They know you've got it | just as surely as we do.
You won't be safe until that money | is in our hands. Is that clear?
This is my direct cell line.
Don't lose it, Mrs. Lambert. | Call me anytime, day or night.
And, please, this is crucial. | You mustn't betray...
the confidentiality | of this dialogue.
You must not tell anyone | about coming to see me.
Certainly. No problem. | I promise you.
It's clear that you're | a very decent person, Mrs. L.
That's a rare quality nowadays.
Tough situation you're in here, | but I feel for you.
God bless.
His agenda.
Charles Lambert's last day | was busy.
To us, largely meaningless.
"12:00, 8 Rue des Rosiers,
Clignancourt. " | The flea market.
Twenty-four.
Four. Okay.
Nine.
So then eight must be...
Pardon. | Regina, right?
My name is Lola. | I knew your husband.
I see.
So, were you | Charlie's trophy, Regina,
or his partner?
Do you know what | I'm talking about when | I say Operation Verify?
How about this? | Forty-six Eppler-cut diamonds?
Believe it or not, | Lola, I don't want that money.
Okay. | So you know about it.
You just don't want it. | I see.
I may be the only one, | but that's how it is.
Charlie ripped off | some very dangerous people.
I don't know anything | about my husband's | business interests.
Hmm. | I though you just said... | I don't mean to be rude,
Then don't be. | But are you finished?
Not quite. | See, your husband...
messed us up...
something fierce.
Regina,
am I getting through to you | at all here?
Reggie?
Regina.
We earned that money.
We want it. | "We dese"rv"e it."
Are you all right? | Was that woman giving you | a hard time?
You could say that. | Yes, she was.
Joshua, what are you | doing here?
I can't believe this. | I saw you getting your cab | back in town.
I followed, almost lost you | a couple times.
Just caught up in time | to see you coming inside here.
I really do seem to be | caught up in a terrible mess.
Yeah, but why are you here | in this neighborhood, in this place?
I don't understand. | A notation in Charles's | date book...
"8 Rue des Rosiers." | I'm trying to make sense | of his last day...
the places that he went to.
Joshua, it's not just | that Charles was murdered.
There's all this other money... | government money | that's gone missing.
And there are other people...
who want it.
And that man is one of them.
So was the woman | in the alley.
Ah! Monsieur Peter.
I'm gonna get my messages, | and then I'll get that stuff | in my room.
I'll meet you upstairs? | Okay.
Great fish. And I hear | their wine list was...
- Have a good look. | - I think you have...
something that belongs to me.
In here?
- Joshua! | - All right.
Get your filthy... | I'm just trying to | open the bag.
- Reggie. | - Calm down.
I will not calm down.!
Reggie.
- Joshua!
Hey!
Go!
- Wait. | - Go.
Joshua.!
Joshua! Joshua!
- Hello? | - Mr. Bartholomew.
They're here. | I saw them. | Mrs. Lambert.
The ones in the photograph.
Describe them to me, | Mrs. Lambert.
Emil Zadapec.
II-Sang Lee.
Lola Jansco. | All three, very dangerous, | highly capable individuals.
It's absolutely imperative | that I see you as soon | as possible, Mrs. Lambert.
Reggie? | Mrs. Lambert?
- Coming. I've got to go, | Mr. Bartholomew. | - Please use extreme caution.
Yes, I will. I promise.
Oh. | Everything all right?
What about you?
It might be a bit wrinkled. | My dress.
Are you okay now? | Oh, I'm still shaking.
What happened? | What did you do? | Oh, nothing much.
I don't think | he'll be bothering you | anymore though.
How you doing?
You know what's wrong with you, | Joshua Peters?
What?
Absolutely nothing.
Mmm. | I feel a little funny | about this.
My kisses are funny?
You hungry?
Yeah. | Great.
Starving. | I got lots of goodies.
I'm... I'm gonna shower first.
Okay.
Just make yourself | at home, okay?
Reggie?
How'd you know | about those people today?
What? | Those three.
And the missing money.
Where did you find out | about all that?
Uh, shoot.
Uh...
Look...
I'm afraid I can't tell you.
I promised.
Promised? Who?
I'm sorry.
I want you to hear this. | Huh?
It's Aznavour. | You know him?
"- Shoot the Piano Player," right?
Exactly.
- Hello? | - Hello, Mrs. Lambert.
Don't hang up on me. | Look, I'm sorry | about the elevator.
- I have nothing to say to you. | - We've gotta talk.
Who is it? | The guy from the elevator.
- What? Give me the phone. | - Wait. Who... | Is that Dyle there?
Who? | Mr. Dyle.
Has he laid his little | Charles Aznavour routine | on you yet?
What's he saying?
Yeah. That's right. | Reggie.
Okay. | Nobody wants to hurt you.
- Reggie, what did he say? | - All we want is what's ours. | We know that you have it.
Dyle's not to be trusted.
He wants your money. | He'll do any...
What did he say?
That if I don't | give him the money, | he'll kill me.
Why would he kill you? | He's just saying that to scare | you, Reggie. That's all.
As long as they think | you have that money... | Then why is Charles dead?
He obviously knew | where that money is. | Reggie, listen.
I'm on your side, | and I wish you'd tell me | everything you know...
promises or no promises... | so I could be of some help.
I think you'd better go, | Joshua.
I'm afraid | I've lost my appetite.
Oh.
I'm very tired.
I understand. It's... | It's been a long day.
Please, | I really need to think.
Well, just remember, | I'm on your side.
Yeah.
Hey!
You people | want to get rich or not?
Don't go getting | all rhetorical on us now, Dyle. | Hey.
Answer my question. | Rich or not rich?
Does she have the money | or not, Dyle?
I think she does.
Here's my problem. | You say there was nothing | with Charlie in the train,
in his bags, | in his clothes... whatever.
But size up, Dyle, it's all smoke. | You got zero credibility | around here.
You're right, Lola. | I already got what I want.
Yet I choose to subject myself | to this bullshit anyway.
You just want to | get in her pants... anyway.
Zadapec, I'm not even touching | your psychodrama in the elevator | and your crazed phone call.
You know what, Dyle?
One more | little crazed phone call...
this time to | the Paris police department... | and they have Charlie Lake's killer.
Isn't that right?
Right?
Now don't forget that | the next time you come | waltzing in here.
Don't forget that for a minute.
All high and mighty | like you're God's gift to us.
Zad?
He's right, buddy.
No more | loose cannon stuff, okay?
We're stuck with him | for the time being,
and he is stuck with us.
Cool, Zad?
Okay, maniac?
The only way this works | is if she trusts me.
Lose that, end of story.
Hey, Zadapec.
Your phone call really | spooked her. I want you to | tell me exactly what you said.
Well, you're not gonna like it.
Mr. Bartholomew?
Are you there, | Mr. Bartholomew?
- Shh, Mrs. Lambert.
Shh, shh, shh, shh. | What's going on, | Mrs. Lambert?
Mr. Bartholomew. | Yes.
Who is Dyle? | What about Dyle?
The man in the elevator... | Zadapec... | Zadapec. Yes?
He called | Joshua Peters "Dyle." | Zadapec called Peters "Dyle"?
Tell me about him. | Dyle.
Now. | Okay. All right. | Um, okay. Uh...
Carson J. Dyle. | Major, Special Forces.
Highly decorated | in the Gulf War. | Mogadishu.
Then he drops out. | Head honchos Global Options,
the top-drawer service outfit | of the '90s, till | his untimely demise.
Demise? | Death, Mrs. Lambert.
I know what demise means, | Mr. Bartholomew.
Carson Dyle | was terminated in 1998...
by Eastern European | militia near the former | Yugoslavian border,
40 kilometers east of Sarajevo.
Now, wait. | Dyle worked with Charles? | He knew Charles?
Unfortunately for Dyle, yes.
In '98,
Dyle mounted a special ops unit | for a high-level covert | hostage extraction...
on behalf of the O.D.C.
In those days, the O.D.C. | Couldn't deal directly | with outside contractors.
That's where | your Charlie Lakes came in.
He was | an independent facilitator.
The O.D.C. would put him | on the research payroll | for a limited time.
He would book the professionals, | negotiate with the adversaries...
wrangle all the slimy details.
Your husband brokered the deal | to go in, transfer the assets | and get our man out.
Keep going. I'm with you.
The unit choppered in, | accompanied by Charlie,
transporting $6 million | in internally flawless, | Eppler-cut diamonds as ransom.
They were ambushed | shortly after landing.
Carson Dyle and most | of the Global Options team | were totally decimated.
Cut to ribbons. | Never had a chance.
Your husband and the three | from the photograph...
were the only ones | to make it out alive.
We believe those four | stashed the diamonds...
with plans to return | and claim them for themselves.
But how did Charles manage to...
The four of them lied | during the inquiry and waited.
We believe Charlie Lake | broke from his agreement | with the other three,
recovered | the diamonds on his own | and completely vanished.
And maybe Carson Dyle lived. | Trust me, Mrs. Lambert.
Carson Dyle is dead.
You've gotta find out | everything you can...
about your enthusiastic | new friend Peters...
or Dyle, | or whatever his name is.
We need to know | how he fits into the equation.
Oh, Mr. Bartholomew, | I already told you.
My great goal is for | far less involvement | in this sordid mess. Not more.
I was wrong about you, | Mrs. Lambert.
Meeting the widow | of a man like Lake...
Well, I was expecting...
a siren, a harpy, a shrew.
But you... | You have decency, dignity...
what my father | used to call gumption.
I'm very touched.
You are actually quite sweet | for a stars-and-bars | company man, aren't you?
You've discovered | my secret side, Mrs. Lambert.
Keep it under your hat.
Boo!
Excusez-moi, mademoiselle.
Merci, mademoiselle.
Ah. She left this | for you, Mr. Peters.
Aznavour!
Merci, monsieur.
Hello? | Bonjour, monsieur.
Uh, is he an American? | Yes, he is.
One moment, please. | I'll try to find out. | Merci, monsieur.
Oh, my God. | You "are" Dyle!
- Reggie? | - It's the only name "I've" got.
Reggie, we need to talk.
I've never been so betrayed | and humiliated in all my life.
- I had to make sure | that you weren't involved. | - You had to make sure...
I wasn't involved! | No, no. | That's not what I meant. I...
Merci, mademoiselle. | Merci beaucoup, monsieur.
You're meant to be dead, | monsieur.
I do owe you an explanation.
Reggie, my name | is Alexander Dyle. | Carson was my brother.
Shake hands? | "How do you do?"
You have got to be joking.
Reggie.
Reggie. | It's Regina!
I can explain everything. | Monsieur Philippe.
Reggie, wait!
Please, Reggie, | you gotta listen to me.
Reggie, Charles and | the three people following you...
they betrayed Carson.
They stole the money | he was entrusted with.
I'm trying to get to the truth | by conspiring with them.
Well, how noble of you | to embrace their techniques.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry, really, | about your brother and everything,
but give me a break.
Reggie, I hate | that you're caught up in this.
But at the same time I'm glad...
because it means that we've met. | I liked Joshua Peters, | and now he's gone.
Monsieur. | Oui.
Stay here in Paris, | Reggie. With me.
Don't buy that ticket.
What do you think?
- Madame?
La, la, la, la, la! | Bye.
Did you mean what you said | in the taxi?
Everything. | Which part?
The part about that | you're really, really...
glad that you met me | or something like that.
Deeply.
That's sweet... Alex.
I'm still going to London. | Wait.
No, you're not.
You're not goin' | anywhere, Reggie.
Reggie?
Ladies and gentlemen, | welcome.
Whoa!
"Okay," crise cardiaque.
Cardiac arrest. "Mort subite." | Sudden death syndrome.
Our preliminary | forensic reports.
And nobody wants to offer me | a more complicated explanation?
Okay. Regina?
A word with you alone, | s'il vous plat. | The rest of you may leave.
Commandant, I was hoping to | remain here with Madame Lambert.
You especially, monsieur, | may leave.
I was hoping that maybe | I could be of some assistance.
Merci, monsieur. | Au revoir.
That's okay.
You said yesterday that | your husband was an orphan.
An only child? | That's right.
A woman showed up at the morgue | early this morning.
From the provinces. Rully.
She identified | your husband's corpse | as her unmarried son.
Charles du Lac.
"Du Lac"?
Du Lac... Lake.
Charlie Lake. | The old woman said...
her husband beat her son, | and her, without mercy.
Every day. Until one evening | the father fell to his death | from a bedroom window.
Fourteen-year-old Charles | left home the next day.
She's seen him only occasionally | in the years since then.
Why are you telling me | all this, Commandant?
The woman seemed | quite deranged.
Hmm. | I worry for her.
She's convinced | you are responsible | for her son's death.
The missing money. | Well, there | should be a club.
Unfortunately, she's already | on a train back to Rully.
- Ah! | - Regina, I trust you.
You're not a suspect here.
But I do believe you can | lead us to the killer.
And I very much want | your help.
- Commandant... | - Please, Regina. Call meJeanne.
Merci.
I trust you, too.
You will cooperate? | If it means getting | to the truth, yes.
Exactly what kind | of cooperation did | you have in mind, Jeanne?
Whatever it takes to help us | find out everything possible...
about your mysterious | Mr. Peters and his friends.
Whatever it takes?
I'm asking you to find out | everything you can, Regina.
Open up. Dig deep.
Just be very, very careful.
Okay, everybody.
The moment you've | all been waiting for.
- Charlie's last day.
You too, Alex. Dive in.
Okay, here's | Charlie's letter.
You satisfied?
Tell us about Sarajevo, | Mrs. Lake.
Sarajevo? How did you | know about Sara...
I mentioned you told me | a little about your travels.
Mrs. Lambert. Carson Dyle | was terminated...
in 1998 by Eastern European | militia near the former | Yugoslavian border,
forty kilometers | east of Sarajevo.
You've got nothing | to hide, Regina.
You can tell them | about Sarajevo.
What about Sarajevo?
Tell us about your border crossings, | custom checks,
any chance encounters.
We need to know | everything about Sarajevo.
Okay.
I'll start from the beginning.
Very good, Mrs. Lake.
Bon apptit.
Is that table | reserved for them?
They don't know | about this place.
Oh, you didn't tell them | we were coming here? | No.
Unlike everything else about | us, what I confided in you, | et cetera, et cetera.
Reggie, what did the cop want | when she asked you to stay?
She doesn't seem to | like you very much, Alex.
Am I still | allowed to kiss you?
Yeah.
Mm. | Mm.
Oh, that's nice.
Really nice.
There's one other thing.
Which is? | I told them it was me | that killed Charles.
Why would you say | a terrible thing like that?
Okay, Reggie, | I'm gonna ask you again.
This person you don't want | to tell me about?
What do they know about Charles? | I don't want to | play that game anymore.
I don't want to | play any games anymore.
I never break a promise.
- Listen, Regina.
I've really gotten to like you. | I think you're very special.
Yeah. I'm sure. | "Now, can I have that money?"
Right. Hand it over. | I couldn't | stand you when I first met you.
I thought you were so stuck up. | But now I've got a crush on you.
Aw, shucks, girl.
Watch out for Dyle, | Regina. I mean it.
Putting in some overtime?
I see I'm not the only one.
You better back off, Lola. | Did you tell her who | killed Charlie yet, Dyle?
Back off, Lola! | You back off.
Pardon.
- All right. I'll get one.
Oh, eh, allez.
- Go-o!
Lachez-moi!
Quelle salope.!
No!
Lola?
Regina? D-Dyle.
Lola, you hold on. | There's help coming.
D-Dyle.
No, no, no, no. Lola, | he didn't really kill Charles.
- He just told you that, I promise. | - Dyle. Dyle.
N- No.
No.!
Oh, Lola.
We were entitled | to a share of those diamonds,
after what we went through,
Mrs. Lake.
She said, "Dyle." | It's the last thing she said.
- Oh, Reggie, I... | - Yeah. Yeah.
- And in the club, she said, | "Watch out for Dyle." | - Reggie, I...
Why have you never | gone to the police | with your suspicions?
Your brother's death? | Those three? Charles?
I guess I want | that money too.
This is... | very illuminating.
- I'll see you tomorrow? | - Tomorrow?
It's Saturday.
Charlie's last day.
Good night.
Good night, Reggie.
Hmm.
"My dear Regina, | I'm off today to Cannes.
"Got a lead on | a couple of Renoirs, | maybe a Schnabel...
"and a Basquiat.
Can't wait for you."
Oui? All? All?
- I've got it. | - What? What have you got?
I know. | Why didn't I think of that?
Listen. Lieutenant Dessalines will be | over in ten minutes to get you.
We've got some work to do. | I'll get my people ready,
- and see you at headquarters | in half an hour, okay? | - Brilliant.
"12:00 noon. 8 Rue des Rosiers.
Clignancourt. | The flea market. "
- D'accord.
Je vous rappelle | dans quinze minutes.
D'accord? | D'accord.
Let's go over there | and take a look.
Fancy meeting you here. | Hi.
You find what you were | looking for, Alex?
Reggie, you've found | something, haven't you?
Well, well, well. | The gang's all here.
What's left of it, anyway.
Excusez-moi, monsieur. | Oui?
Yes. Just a little.
Also some "Japonaise." | Mandarine.
Tragic history, monsieur.
Mister Hyppolite's place.
He made a great fortune | last week.
He was, uh, retiring.
Going to see the world.
Ahh! Hmm.
Next day,
he was dead.
What did he sell? | Hector?
He traded in | postage stamps.
Stamps? | Yes.
The collectors called him | "The Seeker."
He could find | anything for you.
If you could afford. | Ahh!
Stamps?
What's he doing, Reggie? | Where's he going? | Where's he going?
I don't know! | Alex!
Get you hands off of me.! | Alex.!
Stamps! | Where is it? | What are you doing?
Where's Charlie's bag? | Where is it? | What?
Where's what? | The envelope!
The stamps!
Hello?
Watch out!
Chtelet.
Hello? Monsieur?
Where is everybody?
Monsieur?
Hello?
Oh, no.
It's not here. | Is it?
- You killed him! | - Of course I didn't.
- You're a murderer! | - Reggie!
Reggie.! | Reggie, don't be ridiculous.!
Reggie.!
Reggie!
- Reggie!
Reggie, wait.!
Reggie!
Reggie! Wait!
- Mr. Bartholomew! | - It's okay, Mrs. Lambert. | You're safe now.
- Are you armed, Mr. Bartholomew? | Thank God. | - At all times, Mrs. Lambert.
Well, this is convenient. | This is him.!
Joshua Peters, | Alexander Dyle... | whoever he is.
You have the assets, | Mrs. Lambert? | Wait a minute.!
The assets? Reggie! | Is this who you've been...
- No. Yes! | - So. My long-lost and | nonexistent kid brother Alex.
A.K.A. Mr. Bartholomew.
Nice to meet you.
No!
I've never seen | a ghost before.
- Pleasure's all mine. | - What's going on here?
Reggie, my name | is Lewis Bartholomew.
- Really? | - I'm a special investigator for | the Unites States Office...
of Defense Cooperation.
- Really? | - Your secret partner here | is the real Dyle.
Carson Dyle.
Mrs. Lambert,
I am Carson Dyle.
Obviously I didn't die in Yugoslavia. | Came mighty close, though.
When I asked you | about Dyle, you...
- You were describing yourself. | - That's correct, Mrs. Lambert.
I was shot up pretty bad.
Totally incapacitated.
Check on Dyle!
Unlike the others, | Charlie knew I was still alive.
He's dead!
- Chief! | - Chief!
But he told them | I was dead.
Dyle is dead!
Took the money and ran.
My God. | A farmer | and his family found me.
He was a Muslim. | His wife Christian.
They hid me, | got me to a hospital...
where a great little lady doc | put me back together.
And you've been tracking | Charlie Lake ever since.
I located him in Paris.
- Reinvented as | "Charles Lambert." | - He got wind of you?
I always told myself | I'd give Charlie | the benefit of the doubt.
I wouldn't kill him | if he gave back the money.
So long as he didn't lie.
And you did kill him?
He did lie.
Charles never told | the truth about anything.
None of you do.
Mr. Dyle. I'm really moved | that you want the O.D.C. | To get their money back.
I always complete | my assignments.
However, we still don't have | the missing funds.
And you've got blood | all over your hands.
Is it your intention | to arrest me?
- Look.
One of eight known | remaining,
inverted U.S. | "Teddy Nickels"... | X.F. grade, 1928.
The legendary | Algerian Oran 60,
original slash mark | intact, 1952.
And the true masterpiece, | the mahogany Urate Lornis,
Madagascar 1906.
The most valuable | postage stamp on | the face of the earth.
There you are, Investigator. | My work is done.
Just hand that over now, Reggie. | It's U.S. Government property.
- Reggie!
Re...
- I don't believe you just did that.
I do.
Whoa! | Carson Dyle?
Police.!
Restez calme.
- Personne ne bouge.! | - Dessalines, doucement.
You look like hell, | II-Sang Lee.
Here for you, Chief.
Carson.
Mr. Dyle.
Question. | Okay?
You didn't happen to bump | into Zadapec on the 11:20 | to London yesterday, did you?
Check on Dyle.!
Dyle is dead.!
- Chief!
- That is correct. | - I see.
Were you outside the Tango Palace | when Lola bought it?
- Chief! | - No!
- That was most unfortunate.
You've lost a lot. | None of it's coming back.
What's your point, Bartholomew? | You still have | your honor, Carson.
I've got a suggestion.
Tony?
Eric?
Put 'em down.
Chief.
See you in court, | Commandant.
It will be my pleasure.
You're under arrest | for the murder | of Charles Lambert.
On y va.
Shit!
Morning, Ernie.
Good morning, | Mr. Bartholomew. | Bonjour.
Bonjour, | Mr. Bartholomew.
Here are your messages. | Your mom called.
Hey, is that for me?
Is everything okay, | Mister "B"?
Miss Hoskins? | Yes, sir?
Some tea, please?
Coming right up, sir. | Thank you.
Hey, boss. | How are you, Chief?
Good job, guys.
Ah, non, non, monsieur...
I'm sorry, Mr. Bartholomew. | She's okay.
Come in. Please.
Well, well, well.
"Bartholomew."
You can call me Lewis.
This is for you, Lewis.
My late husband's minor fortune.
- Mm-hmm. | - What? But before? The fire?
Laser copies, courtesy | of Commandant Dominique.
Thank you, Reggie.
I'm not a thief. | I know.
So long, Lewis.
Quitter.
You give up | awful easy, don't you?
Not really. | Please.
Don't go. I hated deceiving you. | I'm so sorry.
Please.
All that time, | you should have trusted me!
Revealing my true identity | was never an option, Reggie.
But I never tried | to hide my feelings for you.
Oh! Lewis, what | are you really like?
There's only one way to find out.
Why should I? | Because I love you.
What?
I love you, Reggie. | And...
You've got to be kidding!
No. Never.
Oh, you're luckier | than you realize, Lewis.
Why? | 'Cause I was about to walk | out of your life for good.
And the crazy thing is... | Yes?
I would have regretted | that for...
several weeks, probably.