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Dataset card Data Studio Files
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We're moving' on. I have to pick up the supplies. Just two little boxes.
No... No more killing.
Stay here.
Alex, please.
Stay in the truck.
Who are you calling, sis?
What? Nobody, I
Alex, please
Shut up! Who is this?
Drop it.
Take him!
Cover. It was suppose to be abandoned buildings, y'know. No one was suppose to get hurt. The night you busted us...We were checking to make sure there weren't any vagrants around. Scare them away.
Who is he?
Alex Swan. My brother. The other two are called Taylor and Leveau.
Taylor's dead.
There is a motel downtown, near the Machine Shop... the Suncrest. Room 138.
Thank you.
He's my brother...
Then why tell me?
People are dying.
No, we're terrorists, stay back or we'll blow.
We're a bit busy at the moment, I'll give you a statement in a few minutes if we're still alive.
Bev, you're the greatest...
Hey, I'm next.
Yeah, he's helping us work up a profile on this thing.
Hope you don't mind, Captain, might help us catch these guys that much sooner. Coming?
We've lost brothers too, we know what that's like.
Let's get something straight. We're doing you a favor. You're not exactly a guy we want around explosives.
C4, plastic explosive.
Helluva fuck factor.
Computer device?
Unlikely. Probably, cash register or something.
Glass, what is it?
I was wrong... this didn't come from any cash register.
Relax, Pooch, it's just a ticker, it's not personal.
Let's face it, we all knew it would happen sooner or later. The guy who can build a mousetrap that's better than we are ...
Lane oil...
A bowling alley.
What do ay say?
Meg's lasagna. Good eats, Reilly. C'mon.
Alright!
We've created a monster.
Jesus...
Reilly! He's loaded!
Assist? What the hell you know about tickers anyway?
Easy, guys.
What do you think?
Call upstairs, see what you can find out.
Right.
T.J., run a trace on this, see if you can pin down where it came from. Whoever these people are, let's hope they're all talk.
Whadaya mean?
It's from an IRA.
Oh shit...
Hey, matches are a very big thing in our line of work.
"Punks", huh?
Bev, give `em a call, find out what bowling alleys they supply in this area.
You got it.
We work fast enough for you?
Political.
Exactly my thinking. Except, none of the targets can actually be linked to government, political or special interest concerns. They seem to be just unrelated industrial companies. Some insured, some not.
Any word?
Nothing. Maybe they gave up, split town.
Who the heck're you?
You the Bomb Squad?
Where did you get this?
Off a girl's wrist. A suspect...
Highgrade det cord. This girl, either she's got strange taste in jewelry or she's into serious demolition.
What do you mean?
Sorry about that. That's an inch of the stuff, imagine what the whole thing'd do.
Thanks.
Alright, let's check it out.
We can start in the area where the robbery occurred.
What're you talking about?
When you need us, you love us, when you don't, we're shunned by the rest of the department.
We've got one hour. Are you coming or not?
What was? Why...?
That cop who bought it... you didn't tell us he was your partner.
What?
This isn't bumper cars, it's brain surgery. You wanna work with us, you do it our way, understand?
Now wait just a fucking
Be cool around my men, they don't trust strangers. And try not to swear so much, it's unattractive.
By the way, I'm Glass. This is T.J., and Pooch.
Mike Reilly.
We don't use the bword. Bad luck.
So you're the "Device Squad"... and you defuse "devices"?
Treat. We treat devices.
Anything else I should know?
Don't push it, slick.
I.R.A. device. Deadliest class of tickers in existence. Computerized, multiple sensors, booby traps, the works. First showed up in a series of I.R.A. bombings in London couple years ago. One of their boys tripped it on himself and they went back to a less complicated timers. The Girl, is she Irish?
She's not talking. But, she could be. So, obviously, you've seen one of these devices before?
Only once, at Redstone.
Where...?
Nice performance back there. Where'd you learn that, Mike Ditka Sensitivity Seminar?
Hey, look
No you look, mister! First, you don't go calling my men names. It's bad for morale. Second, us "punks" happen to know a heck of alot more about police work than any vice cop ever did.
Oh yeah? Prove it.
Drive.
The place has already be combed. Forensics pulled over a hundred sets of prints inside.
Then let's go see what they missed.
So what were they doing here?