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French people need a visa to enter this country. That takes time and I didnt have any. I used a British passport. My names not Lamont but Lombard. Xavier Lombard. |
Where were you staying before the attempt on your life and why cant you go back there? |
The Mondrian, room 504. I was checked out in my absence. |
By your Austrian? |
Yeah. |
You dont know why hes come to Los Angeles? The man you say he killed? Who was he? A colleague of his? |
No. A poor little rich boy who thought hed save a few kids from their retailer. He disappeared on his second shopping expedition. |
Have you never heard of collect calls, Mr... |
Lombard... It will take a few days for the things I need to get here. Meanwhile Id sooner not draw police attention walking the streets like a hungry dog... |
There are over 4 million people in this city why me? |
I thought youd never ask... As I was having my coffee and crescents at the Mondrian the other morning I spotted your photograph in the Los Angeles Times... Theres a tough lady, I thought. Just the kind who might help me... |
You know where to look for your Austrian, right? |
I know where to look. |
I might come back, I might not. But if I do, it wont be for a couple of hours. |
Thereve been 7 international treaties since 1904 aimed at preventing child slavery. But still no worldwide body dedicated to investigating the maltreatment of children used in sexual exploitation. Officially, its just not called for. Sit down. Can I offer you some coffee? |
I wouldnt mind. Thank you. |
A recent acquisition. Weve had four break ins this year alone; files stolen, computers wrecked, faeces smeared on walls. The good guys dismiss us as alarmist dogooders; the bad guys will risk prison to intimidate and rob us. An easy living indeed, Mr Lombard. I got through to Moreau and Jane. I left your landlord out of it. Your flats been broken into. Jane wants you to call her back. |
Hah... What about Nathalie? |
No answer. You have no passport and your Embassys out. How do you plan to leave the U.S., Mr Lombard? |
Im sure Ill find a way. |
Like youll find a way to stop your Austrian killing you a second time round? |
Thank you for the guided tour, but would you mind telling me what were doing here? |
How come youre alive? Child traffickers usually achieve what they set out to do. What am I really looking at here, huh? Are you really not just a lousy private eye? Am I really looking at some kind of cunning dispenser of justice in disguise? |
Did you call me up here to enjoy yourself, Emily, or to let me use your phone? Because we seem to have a slight problem... |
Its give and take time, Mr Lombard. You need help, we need information. You didnt really expect me to put my ass on the line helping a criminal just for the thrill of it, did you? |
A criminal? |
Did you not enter this country illegally? |
Huh... I have no... ... hard evidence... |
Come on, Mr Lombard. You tailed your man all the way here from Europe. You told me you knew where to find him, remember? Or didnt I hear you right? |
A little too tight, eh? ...They were my sons. Only thirteen and already six feet tall. A real lanky boy... I... Theres some cold chicken salad in the fridge if youre hungry. |
Thank you. But I think Ill go to bed. Its been a long day. |
Right... Well, Ill get your money first thing in the morning, okay? Okay. Goodnight then. |
Yeah. Goodnight, Emily. |
Dont fall asleep with your hair wet. |
What am I to do with the packages if... |
Burn the passport and keep the money. Think of it as a donation to the cause... |
Get a pen and dont ask any questions. |
Oh. What... Yeah. Okay. |
Route 395. Past Edwards Air Force base and about half a mile before a place called the Red Mountain Motel. Theres a dirt track with a Closed to the public sign. It leads to some kind of ranch in the middle of nowhere. If you havent heard from me by morning send the cavalry, okay? But not before, you hear? |
Have you found your man? Is that where he is? |
I think so. And if it comes to it, tell the cops anything you think will make them move. Whatever you came up with couldnt come close to how bad it is. Bye now. |
Look, you dont tell me about some Godforsaken place where stuff so bad even I couldnt imagine it goes down and expect me to go quietly to sleep! What happened? Whos the guy? The Austrian? |
Whos the guy? Whos the guy! Nom de Dieu! Had the guy got a closer look at you or your number plate Id have had to kill him. |
What...? |
What... Some kind of organ factory... Pregnant girls doped up. Babies. Theres a lot of people back there. Theyre holding a seminar. Traffickings the past, breeding the future... |
Friedmans dead... They killed him... |
So who... Whos the man? Where is he? |
Some Italian I picked up back there. Hes in the boot of the Mustang. |
Italian? The Mafia...? |
Who knows. Who cares... You wanted slime. You got slime. |
No one saw me but the Italian and a dog. I blew up their generator. They thought it was an accident but by now they must have realised one of their party is missing. It might make them feel insecure enough to decide to pack up... |
Were both thinking the same thing, right? |
Do you know a friendly cop? |
Call from the motel and tell him if he moves fast enough there might be something left of a body dissolving in acid. Can I have the keys to your house? |
Thatthat wont do. Thats not the way it goes. You saw it, you tell it, thats the way... |
Im finished here and Im tired, Emily. You shouldnt be here. Now dont make it worse. |
A seminar in a baby breeding farm! Bodies in acid! You think Ill get anywhere with that? Jesus! With luck I might raise a laugh. They might even send a patrol car to check the place out. Whatever, itll be too late. |
Then find another way. |
Look! Either you talk or the creeps are gonna walk. For gods sake. What am I supposed to say? I got this from a French guy from England who broke in there to have a chat with an Austrian child trafficker? Is that it? |
Damn it! You cant fucking walk away from this! |
Its up to you whether they walk or not. |
...Im Emily Stewart. The hysterical female who sees evil everywhere since the day her thirteen yearold boy disappeared. The pain in the ass who cries wolf at the drop of a hat. However I go about this thats who I am. Do you get what Im fucking saying, Mr Lombard? |
What about your friendly cop? |
My exhusband. My work drove him away. Made his life a misery. He thinks Im obsessed, punishing myself for what happened to our son. But hes a good guy. Hell listen to you. He wont turn you in if I ask him not to. I can pretty much guarantee that. Okay? |
Theyd never let me go. And youd end up in more trouble than you know for helping me. |
You cannot walk away from this. You cannot. |
I can... The question is, can you lie to your ex husband? |
Nothing sticks to slime, Emily. This should cover what you lent me. |
Huh! And they say charitys only rewarded in Heaven... Hallelujah... Christ... |
Good morning, sir. How can I help you? |
A coffee and a couple of croissants. |
Crow what? |
Croissants. |
Im sorry, sir. Could you try that again? |
Croissants. Like that... |
The word for those things is croissants. |
Not in America, sir. You must be from Europe. So, black coffee and a couple of crescents. |
Directory enquiries. Can I help you? |
Yes. Im trying to reach a friend but I cant get through. The number is 01766 770 471. |
01766 770 471. Let me check it for you, sir. |
Theres nothing wrong with the line, sir. Are you sure you have the right number? 770 471 is the number of a call box. |
A call box? Thats odd. Where exactly? |
Penrhyndeudraeth, North Wales. |
Can you tell me how you spell... |
Now you know why youre here, Mr Lombard. It might be difficult for someone like you to discern, but we are people of a certain standing. |
Appearances can be deceptive, Mrs De Moraes. |
That depends what youre looking at. |
Three weeks ago. To borrow money. I wasnt here but he got to my husband, sold him some fancy story about an exhibition of his work and needing money to get new prints made. Carlos handed over 1,000 to get rid of him. |
And that is the last time any... |
Well, Leon does not need money for prints, Mr Lombard. Does his own printing. Wouldnt want anyone to interfere with his Art! Which, as he subsequently vanished, raises the question: what was the money for? Perish the thought. |
What about you, Mrs De Moraes? |
I have too much money to work, Mr Lombard. |
Is that why your brother braved coming here to ask you for a loan? |
Perhaps it wasnt so brave of him. Had I been here I just might have given him his money, Mr Lombard. One can reap rewards from the strangest of conduct, as someone in your line of work ought to know. |
Was it cash, Mr De Moraes? The 1,000. You gave it to him in cash? |
I wont comment on the time but youll understand if I dont tell you to sit down. Now, spare me the apology and get to the point, will you, Mr Lombard. |
Im afraid I have bad news, Mr De Moraes. I have reason to believe your brothers in trouble. |
For your information, Mr Lombard, trouble is possibly the one thing Leon is capable of getting into all by himself. Though I doubt he will not ultimately fail even at that. |
I dont know. He seems to delight in so much sisterly love, he might become determined. |
Ohoh! Touch, Mr Lombard! But tell me, what would you know about sisterly love, eh? No. Dont. You might get confused speaking of things you dont understand and we need you clear headed, at least until youve done what we are paying you for. |
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