(Lydia is helping Clara do her homework at the dining room table)
Lydia: Problem, observation, hypothesis, research, experiment... What's the last one?
(knock on door, Clara goes to answer, revealing a man showing what looks like an official badge)
Collections Agent: Ms. Salazar, I'm here on behalf of the Internal Revenue Service to collect on your delinquent taxes.
Clara: I don't understand. I'm on a payment plan. I just spoke with my account manager last week.
Collections Agent: Oh, you didn't get the notice? (stepping into house)That agreement has been canceled. Your payment is due right now.
Clara: Go to your room, Lydia.
(Lydia leaves room)
Collections Agent: We'll put a lien on your house. We have the right to do that. Is that what you want?
Clara: What? No! I told you, I am paying it. What do you want from me?
Collections Agent: Give me a credit card. I'll make this all go away. Or I come back with the sheriff, and we lock you out. Tonight. Your choice.
(Clara hesitates, looks over at Lydia, then pulls her wallet and hands over a credit card)
(Collections Agent puts card in his pocket)
Clara: When I contacted the IRS, they said they never received the money. But someone maxed out my credit card. If it wasn't the IRS, then who?
Nate: Probably the same people who have been, uh, targeting taxpayers all over Boston. You're not alone, Clara.
Clara: Well, it isn't just the money. This man humiliated me. He scared my daughter.
Nate: Okay, well, we're gonna find out who did this, and we're gonna get your money back. I promise.
Clara: Mr. Ford, I play by the rules. After I got laid off, I was paying off my debt a little at a time, and I could still put food on the table every night. What do I tell my daughter now?
Nate: You tell her the same thing you tell her every day. Don't give up.
Eliot: Look, all I'm saying is, (puts an ice bag on his shoulder) is I don't understand why we can't have a couple of days off in between jobs. We just spent 10 days in Juarez.
Parker: What’s the matter, you don’t like the piñatas I bought? (digging in a piñata for candy)
Nate: All right, listen. No... no time off, all right? We got a lot of work to do. Hardison, run it.
Hardison: All right. The first rule of crime is follow the money. Now, Ms. Salazar's money ran through three different shell companies before it ended up with this guy. Hugh Whitman. He runs a big debt collection agency right outside of Boston called financial support associates.
(Parker still digging in piñata)
Eliot: Well, it makes sense. I mean, he's got bill collectors already on his payroll. He just sends them after people that owe back taxes. He keeps the money.
Sophie: But the names of those people, they're not public. So how does he know who to target?
Nate: Well, Whitman worked for the IRS for 20 years. He probably had a friend leak him a list.
Parker (pulls candy from piñata): Ooh, I got it! I got it! We steal the list.
Nate: We need a way in. What did you find out about Whitman on the Internet?
Nate: What do you mean nothing?
Hardison: He's not on the net, man, at all. Which is strange because his company deals with such high tech. You know, they do this thing where they spoof your caller I.D. to make it seem like your grandma's calling, when it's really one of their bill collectors.
Nate: Go back to the money. You said Whitman routed his money through three different shell companies, right?
Nate: Where is it now?
Hardison: Somewhere in the boondocks at a bank called Turner Creek. It's under an account named "Patriot Limited." Now, there's no ties to Whitman, and that's why the cops can't touch him.
Nate: Good. We can work with that. Okay, I want a two-pronged attack. One team is gonna go convince Whitman his money isn't safe there at the bank.
Eliot: That's... me and Hardison got the bank.
Hardison: We're doing what, now?
Nate: Okay, after you guys have spooked Whitman, Sophie, you go and hook him with a new place to stash his cash. Questions?
(Parker shakes her piñata upside down to get the last of the candy. Eliot rips the head off and walks away)
Parker: I'll fix it. We can fix it. We'll fix it. It's okay.
(Eliot and Hardison pull IRS jackets from the trunk of a car)
Eliot: Dude, I don't know what you're complaining about, all right? I got us the bank. We're in, we're out, and we get to go throw a worm in the water.
Hardison (putting on jacket): All so you can go fishing in the woods. I don't see why I had to come.
Eliot: Because it'll be good for you. When's the last time you've been outdoors?
(Eliot puts on a jacket while Hardison swats at the air)
Eliot: Hey, man!
Hardison: Man! Hey, man, did you see that mosquito? That thing had a beak, man. What's that smell?
Eliot: It's fresh air.
Hardison: I don't like it.
[Turner Creek Bank]
(Eliot and Hardison walk in, Eliot pulling off his cap and stuffing it in his pocket)
Eliot: Who's in charge here?
Manager: Uh, how can... how can I help you?
Eliot: I'll tell you how you can help us. This is Agent Brody, I'm Agent Quint, with the criminal investigation unit of the IRS.
Manager: Well, uh, w-what can I do for you?
Hardison: We need the records of all the accounts in the name of Patriot Limited.
Manager: O-o-of course. Uh, r-right this way. I'll... I'll get them for you. Have a seat here.
Manager: We don't get many folks way out here. Uh, why don't you just have a seat and I'll bring that account right up?
(clerk looks at Eliot and Hardison and makes a phone call)
Sophie: Mr. Whitman, my name is Colette Madison. We have some mutual friends over at the IRS.
Whitman: Go ahead and leave your resume with human resources.
Sophie: It's about your account at Turner Creek Bank.
Whitman: I don't have an account at Turner Creek Bank.
Sophie: No, but Patriot Limited does. And that's you. (walks to his office door) May I? (opens door)
(Sophie studies room, picking up grenade on desk)
Whitman: Who are you?
Sophie: Think of me as a matchmaker. I bring together parties who can benefit each other. For a fee, of course.
Whitman: I don't need your help.
Sophie: Unfortunately, you do. I'm here to tell you that your money isn't safe at Turner Creek Bank anymore.
(knock on door)
Whitman: Not now.
Assistant: It's urgent.
Nate: Okay, good timing, Sophie. Now, Eliot and Hardison should be finishing up at the bank right about now.
Whitman: Come on.
Assistant: Just got a call from one of our men at the bank. There are two agents from the IRS asking about your accounts.
Whitman: You call Chester. Tell him to get rid of them.
(Whitman reenters room, looks for Sophie who has poured herself a drink and is sitting on a couch)
Sophie: They're there already, aren't they?
Whitman: How did you know?
Sophie: I told you. I have friends at the IRS. They're on to you, Mr. Whitman.
Whitman: Well, if you know my former department at the IRS, then you probably know Charlie Dean. How is the old boy?
Nate: Now, that must be Whitman's source inside the IRS.
Parker: Yeah, we need Hardison.
Nate: No. No, we don't. Sophie, I want you to tell him that the last time you saw Charles was at his funeral.
Sophie (sets down drink): Haven't you heard? I'm so sorry. It was a beautiful service.
Whitman: All right. You have my attention, Ms. Madison. If my bank isn't safe, what is?
Sophie: I want to introduce you to someone who runs an alternative financial institution.
Parker: How'd you know that? Do you know when I'm gonna die? Do you?
Eliot: You think that was enough to spook Whitman?
Hardison (taking off jacket): Don't know. Comms and mobiles don't work up here, so we have to call Nate from a land line.
Eliot: Yeah, well, you can use the phone at the bait shop while I tackle us up. (taking off jacket) We'll grab something to eat. Come on!
Hardison: Look at me. I look like somebody eats at a bait shop?
Eliot: No. (reaches for trunk)
Chester: You fellas are gonna want to come with me.
Hardison: Excuse you?
Chester: Make any sudden moves and my boys will blow your heads right off.
(Men surrounding pair, weapons drawn, laser sites on Hardison’s chest.
(Eliot and Hardison are handcuffed together in the back of the van)
Eliot (eyes closed): 12.
Hardison: Hey, man, this van is old. I-I bet if we rush that door, we could pop the lock. You ready?
Eliot: Shut up.
Hardison: At least I'm trying to get us out of here. What are you doing?
Eliot: I'm drawing a map, Hardison. 17... 18...
(Sophie and Whitman walking into a gym, only one member using the stationary bicycles)
Sophie: Mr. Whitman, welcome to your new bank.
Whitman: You're kidding me, right?
Sophie: Come with me.
(Parker is leading a team of women on the stationary bicycles)
Parker: Come on, ladies! Let's kick it up a notch! (quickens music) That's right! Oh, let's make this a party! (quickens music) Come on, girls. You've got cats at home that can pedal faster than that!
(one by one the women give up and leave)
Woman: That's it for me. No, I'm done.
Woman 2: I've got to go.
Nate (on phone): Yeah, I-is this the manager? All right, listen. This is Oscar, uh, from corporate. We've spoken before. Hey, you know that new, uh, ladies' gym that's, uh, down there on 14th Street? Yeah, well, they're poaching your members o-over there at your place. Yeah, they're offering a free membership to anyone who breaks their contract with you. So what I need you to do right now is go down there and get the skinny on what's going on. Go! Go now!
(Manager’s door opens and he looks at the nearly empty room)
Manager: What... what's going on? Where'd everybody go? (walks away)
(Nate walks into the manager’s office)
(Nate is playing basketball sitting in the manager’s chair)
Sophie: Hugh Whitman, Vic Pellington. He's the owner.
Nate: Hey, come on in. Have a seat. So, what do you think of our little operation we got here?
Whitman: Well, it's a low-rent gym for housewives. Doesn't look like a bank to me.
Nate: No, that's true. Yeah. One of them is... is nothing. But you get five of these places, and I'm telling you... it's a money-laundering machine.
Sophie: Vic owns 25 images franchises. He sells interests to discerning businessmen like yourself looking to hide the source of their income.
Whitman: Except that only works when you have customers to explain the cash flow. This place is empty.
Nate: And that right there, that's the beauty of the health-club industry, because 80% of the people, they, uh, they pay the membership but they never come. Have a seat. We have all these names, name after name of these members that never come in in our databank.
Sophie: Give Vic your money to wash and he just adds names to the membership roster. Your dirty money becomes clean profit.
Whitman: So she gets a finder's fee?
Nate: She does.
Whitman: What about you?
Nate: My rake is 15%.
Nate: Oh, yeah, but with that, what you get is you get detailed papers that show that you're an investor in Images for over a year. You get board-meeting minutes. It's all on the up.
Whitman: Okay, what's the catch?
Nate: Well, the only catch is that I need an answer now, today, because... I got one slot left, okay, and you're not the only bidder.
Whitman: All right, well, I'm gonna want to look at what you think are detailed records. (takes off coat)
Nate: Yeah, yeah. Sure. I got, uh...
Whitman: I'm very intimate with the tax code, Vic. I used to be district manager with the internal revenue service.
Nate: That's cool.
Chester (holding up IRS jackets): Internal Revenue Service. Taking money from hard-working Americans and shipping it straight to China.
(Eliot looks around militia camp, sees two men placing a delivery service sticker on a black van, cases of molasses nearby, weapons apparent throughout)
Man: Got it? Yeah, that's good.
Eliot (to Hardison): You smell that?
Hardison: Smell of death? Yes, I do.
(Chester sets aside the IRS jackets)
Hardison: Look, man, that's not even real. Right? See, I make those up from a little...
(Chester punches Hardison in the stomach. Hardison coughs)
Eliot: Turner Creek minutemen. Anti-government militia, huh?
Chester: Anti-government freedom fighters. They say the war is coming, tax man, but it's already begun. What do you call a man who takes your property, enriches your adversaries, and deprives you of your liberty?
Eliot: Your enemy.
Chester (looks at armed man behind them): Consider yourselves casualties of war.
(Tom forces Hardison to his knees. He tries to make Eliot kneel, but can’t)
Eliot: It ain't gonna happen, Bubba.
Tom: I got one standing and one kneeling.
Chester: Make it work.
(Tom cocks his weapon)
Hardison: Whoa! Hey! Hey! Hold up! Hold up, man! C-c-can I at least get a-a cigarette?
Hardison: C-can I get a cigarette? As an enemy combatant, I'm entitled to one last cigarette according to Geneva Convention article 89, paragraph 3, subsection k.
(Chester looks confused)
Hardison: You-you-you know it!
Eliot: Are we combatants or not?
Chester: Fine. Brandon... Give the man a cigarette.
(young man comes over and tries to give Hardison a cigarette)
Hardison: Those menthol lights?
(Eliot looks around the camp at the militia members moving weapons and consulting a map)
Hardison: Come on, now.
(Brandon struggles to get a match lit)
Hardison: Go on. Take your time.
(Brandon drops several matches to the ground and drops to his knees)
Hardison: I-it's over there, man.
Chester: Oh, for God's sake, Brandon!
(Brandon continues to fumble on the ground. Hardison drops the cigarette)
Hardison: For God's sake Brandon!
(Eliot turns and knocks the gun from Tom’s hand, throwing him to the ground then pulling Hardison to his feet)
Eliot: Come on! Come on!
(Militia members begin firing at the men as they flee into the woods)
Hardison: You see that? That's called a plan!
Eliot: What plan, man? Smoke cigarettes and die? This way!
Chester: Come on! Get those dogs! Get those dogs over here! Now!
(Militia members bring dogs over to follow Eliot and Hardison)
(Parker sitting in a cubicle on the phone twirling a pencil)
Parker: Yes, hello, Mr. Wallach? This is Alexandra from F.S.A. I'm calling about the outstanding balance you have with... (looks at the screen) Amherst On- Amherst Oncology center? (hangs up the phone) Oh, it looks like we got disconnected.
Computer: Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete.
Nate: Parker, why aren't you in Whitman's office yet?
Parker: Uh, 'cause it's my first day at work.
Computer: Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete.
Parker (grabs jacket): On my way now.
Computer: Delete. Delete.
Eliot: Hardison, stop, stop, stop, stop.
Hardison: What you mean, stop? Why we stop running? Running was good!
Eliot: Listen to me, all right?
Eliot: The van was averaging 45 miles an hour, right? We were in there for 22 minutes. (looks around) We took two turns off the highway. That's 17 miles north of town. We need to go south. (points) That's south.
Hardison: Says you and what compass?
Eliot: This compass, man! (points at his head) Some of us were born with good direction, Hardison!
Hardison: Yeah, well, how about some sense, man? That's uphill. Running downhill is faster. That's proven science.
(dogs barking in distance)
Eliot: All right. Go.
(they do Rock, Paper, Scissors)
Hardison: One, two, three. Yeah. (Eliot wins) Damn it! Again?
Eliot: You got a tell, man. You got a tell. Come on!
(they begin running uphill, south)
(dogs run through the wood, trailing Eliot and Hardison, following them up the hill)
Militia Member: Here you go, boy. Sic 'em. Good boy. Get 'em, get 'em.
(Parker is going around the room, searching for a safe or hidden cache)
Parker: If I were a super-secret government document, where would I hide?
(she finds a book out of place on a shelf and pulls it. A secret door opens revealing a hidden room)
(Parker looks around at military insignia, maps and antique weapons on the walls. She plugs into the computer and gets the information she was looking for, printing a copy. She sees a crate and goes to open it, revealing weapons)
Parker: Guys, I found the list, but that's not all I found.
Parker: I found guns.
(Nate and Sophie exchange a look)
Nate (pretends his phone rings): Ahh, geez. Sorry, I... go ahead. I-I got to take this call. What?! (steps out of office)
Parker: Looks like he's stealing from the taxpayers to buy weapons.
Parker (pulls flag from crate): And flags.
Nate: Flags, huh? What kind of flags?
Parker: White with a green tree inside a blue shield with a star and a ribbon around it.
Parker: It says "ense petit placidam, sub libertate quietem."
Nate: "By the sword we seek peace, but only under liberty." Well, that's from the Massachusetts state flag. The tree, that's from the original colonial flag.
Parker (puts flag back): So he's a historian.
Nate: With an arsenal.
Nate: No wonder we can't find anything about this guy online. He's got a little secret.
(Parker takes pictures)
Nate: I'm gonna try something.
Nate: I'm so sorry. The local council wants to up handicap ramps all over the parking lot. You know, next thing you know, we're gonna have to put Braille in the, uh, you know, on the free weights. It's getting to be ridiculous, these people. (looks out the window) Hey, ah, is that your yellow Hummer over there?
Whitman: That it is.
Nate: Boy, that's a sweet ride, huh?
Whitman: Well-made machine.
Nate: Yeah, a beauty. She's nice. I appreciate a man who buys American, I'll tell you that. Used to work for the government myself. I'm going back a few years, but, uh, you know, back then, we all believed in the same principles.
Sophie: It's true. Yeah, the system, it's... it's... it's broken down.
Nate: It certainly is.
Sophie: Whatever happened to "by the people, for the people," huh?
Whitman: I spent 20 years with the IRS. You think after all that time and all that money I collected, any of it went to protect the interest of real Americans? No. We just hand it off to other agencies. They dole it out to welfare cheats and border jumpers and whatever black-hole programs keep the incumbents in office. Yeah, taxpayers these days, they're a bunch of sheep. Just blind followers who don't even realize their liberty is under constant assault by the government that they've elected. It's pathetic.
Nate: Preaching to the choir.
Whitman: You know, that money that, uh, the IRS is looking for in that bank? I told you. It's not mine. It belongs to the revolution. And it's coming.
Sophie: That's why you got to act fast, Hugh. You've got those, uh, those IRS agents snooping around.
Whitman: I wouldn't worry about them. I had them taken care of.
(Nate and Sophie quickly hide the concern on their faces)
(Parker looks frightened)
Whitman (standing): I've really got to get back to my office. Why don't you, uh, meet me there with your records, and I will try to give you an answer today. Pleasure to meet you. (leaves room)
Nate: Parker, have you, uh, talked to Eliot or Hardison today?
Parker: No. Uh, they could be out of range, o-or...
Nate: Or in a lot of trouble.
Sophie: I don't like it, Nate. Eliot and Hardison should have checked in by now. I think we should call the police.
Nate: And tell them what? Two of our friends are impersonating IRS agents at a bank?
Sophie: Whitman said, "I took care of them."
Nate: Parker and I will find the boys. You go close Whitman.
Eliot: Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. We've got to get them off our scent. (bends and rips plant from the ground)
Hardison: What's that?
Eliot (rubbing plant on Hardison): Just rub it on you! It's skunkweed. (bends and grabs more of the plant to rub on himself)
Haridson: Uh-uh (drops plant to ground)
Eliot (rubs more of the plant on Hardison): It'll get the dogs off our scent, Hardison! Rub it on your damn body! It'll throw the dogs off.
Hardison: Mnh-mnh. I can taste the smell in my mouth. It's strong.
Eliot: Put it on you, man! Hey. (bends and grabs rock) All right. High five. A high five for morale!
(Hardison hits Eliot’s hand, Eliot holds it and cuts his palm with a rock)
Hardison: What? Ugh! What the hell, man?
Eliot: I know what I'm doing! (rub’s the blood on a tree trunk)
Hardison: Gangrene, man! Gangrene! You know what? We wouldn't even be in this mess if you ain't wanted to go fishing!
(Eliot begins laying a false trail through the woods)
Hardison: I could have taken you down to mama's fish shack and got you a catfish, two pieces, and a biscuit for $5.99. But instead you got us out here with trigger-happy Joes trying to fish us! And he's all too happy to shoot himself a Negro!
Eliot: Oh, so it's a black thing now? Is that it? They're hunting me, too, all right? (continues laying false trail)
Hardison: Damn Skippy, it's a black thing! Who they try to shoot first, Eliot? Who got punched first, Eliot? Me! I'm about tired of this redneck...
Eliot: Damn it, Hardison!
Hardison: Damn it, Eliot!
Eliot: Look, man, I know what I'm doing. I've done this before.
(dogs barking in the distance)
Hardison: This, right here? I-in the woods, handcuffed to a man?
Eliot: Yes, I have, okay? It was easier last time, though.
Eliot: 'Cause he was already dead.
(dogs leading Militia through the woods)
Militia Man: Good boy. Good boy.
(Nate and Parker walk down a hallway)
Nate: Okay, what do you got?
Parker: I've got a map... well, part of a map. I don't know what it means. What if Eliot and Hardison have already...
(Nate raises his hand and opens a door)
Nate: Let's go in here.
Nate: Let's go in here. Okay, so Hardison and Eliot, they need us to stay calm, so, uh, show me what you got, and, uh, we'll figure out how to save them.
(static on coms)
Nate: Eliot, Hardison! Can you hear me?
Eliot: Wait, wait, wait. Stop, stop, stop. (in comm.) Nate? Nate? You're breaking up, man! We're in the woods.
Eliot: Listen, we're approximately 17 miles from the bank.
Nate: Okay. W...
Eliot: Damn it. Can you hear him?
Hardison: No, man. It's cloud cover. Day like this, we got to bounce our signal off a radio tower.
Eliot: How do we do that?
Hardison: Get a clear view of the sky.
(Parker uses her phone to display photo of map on wall)
Parker: Okay. Here it is.
Nate: All right, that's Whitman's militia camp. Uh, it doesn't show where. Now, Eliot said they were 17 miles from the bank. Let's get...
(Parker pulls up the computer and is shocked by the wallpaper. She opens a map and they compare to the photo on the wall)
Nate: Okay. It's got to be in here somewhere. From the bank... to here. Right there.
(Map zooms in on geographical details)
Nate: It's, uh, same creek, isn't it?
Eliot: Yeah, no paved roads. No people for miles. In the middle of nowhere.
Hardison (static): Nate, hey? Can you hear me?
Parker: Hardison? Are you okay?
(dogs barking in background)
Eliot: Can't talk very loud. These militia guys are following us, and they're armed and I'm pretty sure we pissed them off.
Nate: Listen... now, there are railroad tracks…
Nate: …a mile and a half west of the camp. Can you get there?
Hardison: Sure. But what if there's no train?
Nate: Well, there will be. We're gonna steal you one.
(Nate looks at Parker, and they both smile)
Whitman: Your records are very thorough. Very impressive. I do have some questions about the profit sharing, however.
Sophie: Huh? Oh, oh, the, uh, the, uh... The nuts and bolts are really Vic's forte.
Whitman: Where is he? I thought he was coming with you.
Sophie: Oh, he's here. He's, uh, he's on a conference call. Money laundering... it isn't all champagne and helicopters, is it?
(Parker heads back to her cubicle, nearly running a man over)
Man: Oh. Excuse me.
Parker: Hate being away from the job. I love collecting money. (sits down, takes off jacket, puts on headset) Okay, Nate. I'm in. Let's go steal a...Whoo! Whoo!
Nate: Okay, Parker, what I'm gonna do is I'm gonna call your station.
Nate: You're gonna patch me through to the department of transportation.
(Parker using the computer to follow his instructions)
Nate: Now, use the company's caller-I.D. spoofing software to make my call look like it's coming from Fitchburg.
Parker: Okay. You're on.
[Massdot Routing Center]
Bev: Massdot, this is Bev.
Nate: Yeah, listen, I'm sorry to bother you.
Nate: I'm walking my dogs out here in Fitchburg. It looks like you got a problem on your track, a bunch of rocks blocking the way.
[Massdot Routing Center]
Bev: Are you sure? I haven't heard anything about a rockslide.
Nate: Oh, yeah, am I sure? Yeah, listen, I'm... I'm sending you a picture on my celly right now.
(Parker uses her computer to send a Pic of a rock slide to Bev)
[Massdot Routing Center]
Bev: Okay. Yes, sir.
Nate: Yes, Bev. Yes.
Bev: Uh, we'll do our best.
[Massdot Routing Center]
Nate: It's a big problem. We'll try to...
Bev: (receives another call) Okay. Please hold, sir. (answers other call) Massdot, this is Bev.
Sophie: Is this the train department? You got to send someone out to Fitchburg.
[Massdot Routing Center]
Bev (has another call): Please hold, ma'am.
Parker: Uh, yeah, we got rocks! Rocks on the tracks! Yeah. Big rocks!
[Massdot Routing Center]
Bev: Hey, Gary, I got to re-route the northbound Barrington. We got a rockslide.
[Train Switching Center]
(switch moves, rerouting train)
Nate: Okay, Eliot, Hardison, a train on the way. It's coming from Pennsylvania. It's a produce train carrying beets.
(Sophie walks back into Whitman’s office to see him pouring a drink)
Sophie: I'll take that as a good sign.
Whitman: Well, like I said, I still have a few questions. But we do see the world the same way. And that counts for something.
(Eliot and Hardison jump from tree)
Eliot: God! Come on, man! (spits moss) I hate beets. (pulls HarLet's go! Come on!
Sophie: So? Do we have a deal?
Whitman: You will have a check by the end of business day.
Sophie (raises glass): To the revolution.
Nate: All right, Sophie. Good work. The train is on its way to pick up the boys. We're home free.
[Near Train Tracks]
Eliot: He did it, man! He actually did it! He stole it! How's your train-jumping skills, man?
Hardison: I ain't no hobo, but I can hold my own.
Militia Member (standing behind them with gun aimed): All right. Don't move! Put your hands up!
Eliot: Man, what do you want us to do? You're the ones that put this on us, man.
Hardison: We're already...
Eliot: All right, go down. Twist it.
Hardison: Why you always...
Eliot: Not like that, man!
Hardison: Re-phrase that, man!
Eliot: Go under.
Hardison: Why you always telling me to go down, Eliot?
Eliot: Just switch...
Hardison: Why you telling...
Eliot: I'm not saying it like that, man!
Eliot: Just hold on a minute, man!
Militia Member: Shut up!
Hardison: Can we get a minute?
Eliot: The man has a gun in your face, man. Go under.
Hardison: Go! Go!
Eliot: Twist it this way.
Hardison: Geez! Look, man...
Eliot: Man, it ain't that hard. It's not that hard.
Hardison: He's so difficult.
Militia Member: Shut up!
(Eliot grabs gun and knocks man down, then empties the gun)
Eliot: Let me tell you something, tell your little Boy Scout troop their time’s up.
Militia Member: We get new recruits every day. You can't stop what we have planned. No one can.
(Eliot and Hardison look at each other then both of them kick the man in the face and knock him out)
Eliot: Come on, man. Let's go. (they head for train) All right--
Hardison: Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait, wait.
Eliot: What? Hardison, we got to get on this train.
Hardison: No, no. W-what'd you smell in that camp?
Eliot: What? I don't...
Hardison: What were you smelling at the camp?
Eliot: Look, man, we got to get on this train right now!
Hardison: Eliot, what were you smelling?
Eliot (hesitates): Fertilizer. And molasses.
(Hardison makes a questioning movement)
Eliot: You can reduce the molasses down and use it as an oil for a fertilizer bomb, all right? I've seen it in Lebanon. It's better than kerosene.
Hardison: Okay, s-so a fertilizer bomb and a van. That's what the little hillbilly was crying about.
Eliot: Look, man, we get on this train, all right? We get back there, and we call the FBI They clear everybody out.
Hardison: Eliot, Eliot. Was the bomb mixed already? Is-is it stable?
Eliot: No. They got to use it within the next 48 hours.
Hardison: Okay, Eliot, we call the FBI. Maybe they make it, maybe they don't. What happens then? We're watching a building blow up on the news, children, firemen scattered everywhere? Look, man, I say we go back down there, and we stop them.
(Eliot hesitates. The end of the train passes them as they watch it go)
Hardison: I say we whup some hillbilly ass.
Eliot: We're gonna get bloody on this one.
(Hardison gives him a long look in reply)
Eliot: All right. Come on, man. (they return to the man they knocked out) I'm gonna grab his walkie-talkie. You get his shoelaces, and you get his belt. I'm getting this. (pulls hatchet) What do you say we lose about 180 pounds? Yeah?
[F.S.A. Collections Department]
Assistant (to floor manager): How's the new girl doing?
(floor manager hands him a head set)
Parker: Nate, we've lost contact with Eliot and Hardison again.
Nate: Ah, they're probably on the train.
Parker: All right, but what about Sophie? When's she getting Whitman's check?
Assistant: Get me Whitman.
(Sophie and Whitman are sitting on a couch drinking)
Whitman: Excuse me. (walks across room to phone) Yes?
Assistant: Sir, we have a problem.
Whitman: I see.
(something in Whitman’s voice catches Sophie’s attention)
Whitman: No. No, I'll take care of things on this end.
(turns around to see the door closing as Sophie exits)
Whitman: I have to get to the bank and get my money. There's no telling what those idiots out there are liable to do.
Sophie: Nate, our cover's blown. The revolution's starting early.
(Assistant tries to get to Parker, but other employees get in the way and by the time he can get through she’s gone.)
(Parker runs around corner into an elevator. Assistant follows, but doesn’t make it in time. He runs for the stairs))
Parker: They're locking the building down. (pulls pin from hair) I'm gonna try and stall Owens. If I can make the elevator think there's a fire, the doors won't open.
Nate: All right. Good. I'll find us a way out.
Nate: Listen, if Whitman is spooked, he's gonna go for his money. So we have to, uh, we have to get to the bank before he does.
(Hardison and Eliot are preparing for their assault)
Nate: Eliot, Hardison, can you hear me? W-where are you on the train?
Hardison: Yeah, Nate, that didn't happen.
Nate: W-what do you mean it didn't happen? What... you're not on the train?
Hardison: Don't worry about it.
Nate: Guys, y-you're telling me you're gonna go toe-to-toe with these people without a plan?
Hardison: Oh, we got a plan. It's called C.W.A.
Eliot: Can of whup ass.
Nate: Oh, geez. (exits office)
Nate: Sophie, take the stairwell to the first floor. There are too many eyes in the lobby. We're gonna have to use the emergency exit.
Sophie: On my way.
(Sophie avoids the Assistant as he exits the stairs, then enters them herself. Elsewhere Whitman punches the elevator buttons)
Whitman: Come on!
(Parker manipulates the wiring inside the elevator panel and the elevator jerks)
Parker: Nate, it worked. The elevators are on automatic emergency protocol. They're all headed to the ground floor.
(the numbers on the elevator displays begin to descend)
Whitman: What the hell?
(Assistant runs around the corner)
Whitman: Did you get them?
Assistant: I'm on it, sir.
Whitman: Well, get it done. I'm holding you personally responsible.
(Assistant runs away)
(Nate watches the lobby, Parker joins him from the elevator)
Parker: How are we gonna get out without being seen? We can't hack the security system.
(Sophie joins them from the stairs)
Nate: I was actually thinking of something a little more direct. (pulls fire alarm) Go!
(Assistant is on balcony and sees team heading for exit)
Assistant: Stop them! Stop them!!
(Eliot playing with radio)
Eliot: You feeling confident?
Hardison: Not really.
Eliot: Good, ‘cause overconfidence will kill you faster than a bullet any day. Fear's good.
Hardison: Oh, I have fear. And doubt. And really serious regrets. I should be fine.
Eliot: All right. Get ready, then.
(they head into woods. A Militia member hears a noise in the woods and turns. As he goes to investigate, Eliot moves around the other side of a tree just out of sight. Eliot moves around behind him and knocks him out)
(Eliot hangs from a tree upside down and knocks another Militia member out)
(a third Militia member walks through the woods and sees Hardison. As he moves toward Hardison, the Militia member trips a wire, which releases a branch that hits him in the face.)
Hardison: Science. It works.
(Hardison hits the man on the ground with a branch, knocking him out)
(Eliot joins Hardison)
Eliot: Don't make any sudden movement.
(the men are surrounded by Militia with guns)
[Turner Creek Bank]
Whitman: I need to make a withdrawal. Right now.
Manager: Oh, uh, Mr. Whitman. Yes, of course. Take a seat.
(Eliot and Hardison are led into camp by Militia members)
Chester: Good work, Tommy.
Hardison: Where you gonna put the van, Chester? An office building? A preschool? A church?
Chester: A soldier knows there are casualties in every war.
Eliot: See, that's the difference between a real soldier and this little Halloween outfit you got going on.
(Chester punches Eliot in the face, which hurts Chester’s hand but doesn’t seem to affect Eliot)
Eliot (licks lips): You'd kill to protect your rights. A real soldier? He'd die protecting somebody else's.
(Chester nods at one of the Militia men, who raises his gun)
Eliot: Yeah, come on.
Hardison: W-wait. Wait. I never did get that cigarette.
Chester: Kill them.
Eliot: I tell you, man. I think I know where your cigarette's at.
Hardison: Do you?
Eliot: I think I saw (pointing) it right over there.
Hardison: Right there?
(everyone turns to see a cigarette stuck in a propane tank. It burns down far enough to light matches, which sparks an explosion that knocks everyone off their feet)
(Whitman walks out of bank and goes to his Hummer. He tries to open the door but it is locked. He puts down his briefcase to find his keys and unlock the door, then picks the briefcase back up and gets inside before driving away)
Nate (sitting in car): Whitman's gone.
(Eliot and Hardison sit up slowly)
Eliot: You all right?
Hardison: Yeah. High five. For morale.
(they slap hands. Behind them, a yellow Hummer approaches)
Eliot: Yo, incoming. Go! Go, go, go!
(Eliot and Hardison run into the woods as the Hummer stops in the still smoking camp as Chester begins to rouse. Whitman gets out of his car)
Whitman: Chester! Chester, what the hell happened here?
(Chester gets to his feet, other men begin getting up as well)
Whitman: Chester! Hey! What the hell's going on? Oh, never mind. Never mind. Listen, there's too much heat on the organization right now. I have to get out of town. I want you to take the men and take them to a safe house. Give me the keys to your truck.
(Chester, still somewhat stunned, searches for his keys)
Whitman: Come on! Hurry up!
(in the woods, Nate crouches down near Eliot and Hardison)
Nate: Hey. Listen, next time I steal you a train, get on it.
Hardison: Look, man, you're not gonna rain on my parade today, Nate. I made a bomb. Out of a menthol light.
Hardison: I-it's over there, man.
Chester: Oh, for God's sake, Brandon!
(Hardison picks up cigarette and several matches from the ground)
Hardison: For God's sake, Brandon!
(close up of propane tank with cigarette and matches sparking explosion)
Nate: You got a radio?
(Eliot hands him the radio)
Nate: What frequency are they on?
Eliot: Seven seven two.
Whitman: All right, I-I will be in touch with further instructions when it's safer.
Nate (on radio): All right? All units move in. What's that? We have a GPS location of the camp. A.T.F. Airborne is incoming.
Chester: A.T.F.? That's the feds. The feds are coming!
Nate: Be advised, be advised. We have a cooperating witness on the site. Apprehend, but do not injure Hugh Whitman.
(Militia members look at Whitman)
Whitman: What? No, no, no. Hold it. Guys, hold it. Wait a minute. That’s not--
Chester: I should have known... Once a government man, always a government man.
Whitman: Wait, I-I-I-I gave you training. I gave you equipment. Look, I handle the money.
Chester: Yeah, let's see the money.
Whitman: Here. (opens case) There! (sees no money in case) Wait a minute. Oh, no, no, no. Wait, this was straight from the bank.
(car pulls up in front of the bank)
Parker: Who knew a sedan could hit 140?
(Sophie comes around the car with documents in her hand, looking sick)
Sophie: Parker, you are never to get behind the wheel of a car again, okay? Never.
(Nate opens trunk and pulls out knit cap to put on while Sophie and Parker pull out a briefcase and put the documents inside. Near Whitman’s Hummer, he puts his briefcase on the ground, and Parker switches it for the one with the documents before Whitman picks it up and gets in the Hummer))
Whitman: Wait, uh... Hey, guys, I'm... I'm a fellow patriot!
Chester: This the evidence you were gonna sell to the feds for your freedom?
Whitman: What? Chester, think! This only hangs me! We're being played. We're being set up. The money must be back at the bank.
Chester: You ain't lying about one thing. We need to hide out. (points gun at Whitman) So let's go into town and get our money, Whitman. And maybe we don't shoot you. Move it.
(pushes him toward the Hummer)
Whitman: All right! All right! All right!
(Nate, Eliot and Hardison move off into the woods)
Chester: Move it! Give me the keys!
(Nate, Eliot and Hardison stand in the still smoking Militia camp)
Hardison: Hey, you know, I'm starting to enjoy the outdoors.
Eliot: Hey, are you seriously gonna let them get away with this?
Nate: Eliot, I stole you a train. Have a little faith.
[Turner Creek Bank]
(Chester and Whitman walk into an empty bank)
Chester: What's going on, Whitman?
Whitman: I don't know. They were just in here. (walks toward counter)Hello? Hello?
FBI Agent (pops up from behind counter): Hands in the air. Don't move.
(FBI pulls up, sirens blaring to surround the rest of the Militia group)
Man: FBI! Let me see your hands! Get 'em up! Get down! Get on the ground!
(Militia drop their weapons and get down)
[Turner Creek Bank]
(FBI Agent opens case and looks at documents while more agents come inside to cuff Chester and Whitman)
Whitman: That's not my case. It got switched.
FBI Agent: Are these the stolen papers you mentioned?
Sophie (wearing FBI jacket): Yep.
Sophie: Internal IRS documents.
FBI Agent: Mr. Whitman, you and your men are under arrest.
Whitman: Wait a minute! You got to listen to me! That woman isn't who she says she is! She's a con artist!
(FBI drag Whitman out of the bank)
Sophie: Yeah, yeah, yeah. We get that all the time. Yeah, it's all one big conspiracy.
Parker: Yeah, you better run a psych eval on that one, huh? (hits Sophie on the arm)
(Sophie rubs her arm)
(FBI are cuffing and taking away Militia while Eliot and Hardison walk out from around a car, watching agents pull Chester away. Nate joins them)
Chester: I'm trying to tell you. Look... Hey! And that guy! He's part of it, too! I'm telling you! Why don't you listen to me?! Listen!
(Parker and Sophie come out of the bank)
Clara (looking at check): Mr. Ford... I don't know what to say. Thank you. All of you.
Nate: Well, I know you've been out of work for a little while. Do you think you could help us find the names on this list (hands her list) and help them get their, uh, their money back?
Sophie: It's only a part-time job, but I think you'll find it really rewarding.
Parker: Oh, I'll drive.
Sophie: Unh-unh. No. No, no, no. I'll drive.
(Hardison and Eliot are sitting in camp chairs with a cooler playing a fishing game on the monitors)
Hardison: Uh, uh! Reel it in slow. Reel it in slow.
Eliot: I know how to do it, man. I heard you.
Hardison: See, you lost it.
Eliot: There's no talking in... That was the beauty of fishing!
Hardison: You're tense, man. It's a delicate sport. You need to be delicate. You got it! Yeah!
Eliot (looking disappointed): It's just not the same.
Hardison: You're right. It's better. (gets fish) Yeah, buddy.