Charles Du Champs: How dare you jeopardize the reputation of this firm. Three hundred and fifty years of discretion and trust threatened by the reckless actions of my own son.
Sean Du Champs: I need a loan, father, not a lecture.
Charles: What kind of trouble are you in?
Sean: I told you, it's nothing. Some margin calls. I'm hardly the first to misread the market.
Charles: One million dollars is not a misread, it's a debacle. You've lost control. You've become a liability to this company, as well as to yourself.
Sean: So what are you saying, I'm fired?
Charles: I'm saying that I want you to get help.
Sean: Look, I'll sign a promissory note. Two points over prime. You can deduct it from my fees, and I'll, uh, make a balloon payment in five years.
Charles: Don't bargain with me, son. I'm not the devil.
Sean: Then help me.
Charles: I am. The only way I know how.

Schanke: Nick, give me a loony.
Nick: A dollar? What for?
Schanke: I'm gonna make you a wealthy man.
Nick: Aha.
Schanke: I just had a vision. I saw the winning lottery number.
Nick: Yeah, and I just saw Elvis coming out of a doughnut shop.
Schanke: Young Elvis or old Elvis? Very funny. But don't go pleading poverty on me when I'm sitting on fifteen million big ones and you can't eke a vacation out of cop pay.
Nick: Fair enough.
Schanke: So, give me a loony.
Nick: Neither a lender nor a borrower be, Schank.
Schanke: I'm asking you for a buck, not a kidney.
Radio/Dispatch: 81 Kilo, 81 Kilo. Car bombing, 415 York St. Copy?
Nick: 81 Kilo, copy.

Officer: Name plate says 'DUCHAMPS'.
Nick: Thanks.

Toronto: Recently, probably (in the last year or so, most likely)

Charles: Forty million dollars is an extraordinary sum of money. Philanthropy of such magnitude defies anonymity. Do you really want to risk making all these contributions in the same year?
Nick: Yes. These charities make a real difference. They depend on the money.
Charles: That's going to take a fair degree of finagling on my part. And even then, I can't assure you that I can keep your identity a secret.
Nick: Well, finagle all you have to, Charles. That's why I pay you.
Charles: I've known you for nearly half a century, Nicholas. I know you as a man of honor and probity. And yet, I've always had this feeling that there's some dark secret behind your fortune.
Nick: A dark secret. Now why would you say that, Charles?
Charles: You regard your money more as a curse than a boon. As if it were...tainted somehow.
Nick: Your move, Charles.

Schanke: Minister of Transport says the car was registered to a Charles-
Nick: Du Champs. It was on the parking plate.
Schanke: Oh, must have missed it. What a mess. Enough C4 here to launch a rocket. I feel sorry for whoever's got to identify the parts. Which reminds me. The victim had a son.
Nick: Sean.

Sean: Four the hard way. (Kisses his fist and shoots his dice) Come on. (Loses.) Give me another twenty-five. Come on, hear it, let's hear it. Twenty five more. Tuxedo, Brad?
Man: I don't believe in fashion.
Sean: I don't care what Mr. Walken says, you know? Just give me another marker.

Sean: (Shooting again) Come on! (Loses again) That don't matter. There's more where that came from.

Schanke: Ahh, out of the way, Bluto.
Nick: (Flashing his badge) Metro Homicide, we're looking for Sean Du Champs?
Bouncer/Luke: (Into a headset) Mr. Walken, there are two cops here to see Mr. Du Champs.

Walken: (To man with him) Tell him he's exceeded his limit. And let him know that there are two police detectives here to see him. (Pressing intercom button) Extend my warmest greetings to our city's finest, Luke, and let them know Mr. Du Champs will be joining them shortly.

Schanke: Okay, did your father have any enemies, any hostile competitors, any disgruntled clients?
Sean: The Maison Du Champs' clients are among the wealthiest people in the world, Detective. Things like this just don't happen in our business.
Schanke: Oh yeah? I've got a flash for you, kid. I've seen money make even the most wealthy do the most disgusting things. Guess you can never have enough, know what I mean?
(There's a knock and Schanke lets Jenkins in)
Jenkins: His limo's here.
Schanke: His limo?
Jenkins: Yeah, and the captain wants to see you in her office. That's the both of you. (leaves)
Nick: Okay, Sean, we'll be in touch. condolences.
Sean: Detective, our business relies on confidentiality, so if you could just.... (He runs his fingers across his closed lips)
Schanke: Listen, kid. We're trying to find the guy who murdered your father. Now if that means we have to dig into every single account, I'm sure you understand, right?
Nick: Don't worry. These things are done in a professional manner.
(Sean leaves)
Schanke: The little--
Nick: Schank? You're leaning on him pretty hard. The kid just lost his father.
Schanke: Is that so? Well, the little ingrate seemed a hell of a lot more concerned about the damn business, than about who launched daddy dearest sky high.

Cohen: And?
Schanke: Junior did it.
Cohen: Did he confess?
Schanke: Come on, the old man controlled millions, on and off the books. Now a savvy kid like Sean Du Champs could figure out a way of putting his grubby mitts on the cash. Problem is, the old man's in the way. Solution? Boom! Now I say we're looking at a classic case of blood money.

France: Er...sometime before late 18th century is all I'm sure of

LaCroix: The quality of our prey has been this. (They get rid of their victim down a well) We must leave this region now.
Janette: But what about Nicolas' business?
LaCroix: Whatever business it is, we can be certain that it is pure folly. And that will only bring us trouble.
(They move out of sight and Nick and another man come in, the man with a small wooden chest)
Nick: I think we'll be safe here till the king's guards pass. (Janette and LaCroix come out of the shadow to be visible)
Man: Who's that?
Nick: Allies. Show them the prize.
Man: Look. (Opens a chest filled with gold coins) A king's ransom. The Dauphin thought himself so clever in orchestrating his own abduction, and to be sure, the king paid a mighty sum for the return of his first-born son. But the Dauphin had not considered that in myself and my young apprentice here, he had accomplices even greedier than he.
Janette: So you stole the ransom, and you killed the Dauphin?
Thief: Of course we killed him. The ungrateful wretch had it coming to him. Imagine, swindling the king, his father, like that? Shameful behavior, shameful.
Janette: But surely the King's guards will stop at nothing to catch you?
Thief: Well, everyone has his price.
Nick: And yours, sir, is your life. There is no honour among thieves.
LaCroix: Be careful, Nicholas, blood money brings only misfortune.
Nick: Oh, LaCroix. Where's your sense of adventure?
(The two go at it, fencing, and eventually Nick gets stabbed in the chest by the other's weapon)

Cohen: Detective Knight? You've been quiet tonight. What do you think?
Nick: Well, I think Schanke's right. Sean Du Champs is a savvy kid, which is why I don't think he killed his father. A bomb attracts attention. If you were going to kill for an inheritance, you'd make it look like an accident, not something that invites investigation.
Cohen: Possibly. But we're gonna turn that foundation upside down, one account at a time.

Janette: It's a new club. Overcrowded, overpriced, overrated. I don't think Paparazzi's going to last very long.
Nick: What do you know about the owner?
Janette: George Walken? Well, let's just say that for a man of such exquisite taste, it's a shame that he sullied himself in such a sordid enterprise.
Nick: Like?
Janette: The usual.
Nick: Gambling and drugs?
Janette: Mmm...?
Nick: Why so coy?
Janette: Why so interested?
Nick: The man killed in the car bombing.
Janette: The one in the paper today? The financial advisor?
Nick: Charles Du Champs. He was an old and trusted friend.
Janette: What did you trust him with?
Nick: Everything. And he's handled all the assets of the foundational trust for the past fifty years now.
Janette: Your 'blood money,' as LaCroix called it. The scrutiny of something like this could put our community at great risk.
Nick: I've thought of that. Charles Du Champs had a son.
Janette: Sean. Yes, he used to come in here. Very lost and empty young man. He spends his money at Paparazzi now.
Nick: Is he capable of murder?
Janette: Aren't we all? Do you think he killed his father?
Nick: I don't think so. But he's in trouble, which concerns me, because he worked with his father, and has access to a lot of capital.
Janette: Hmmm, trouble and money. It's a very dangerous combination. Cover your assets. (Gives Nick a light kiss on the lips) Mon amour.

Natalie: The victim's body was riddled with fragments like that.
Nick: Looks like a piece of an electronic relay.
Natalie: Very good, but since when did Jaguar start using Japanese parts?
Nick: What do you mean?
Natalie: Check out the left-hand corner next to the scorch mark.
Nick: Oh, the Tai Chiwa. Japanese industrial coding. Well, he could've upgraded his stereo.
Natalie: Not unless he was sitting on it. I pulled that out of his left buttock.

Jenkins: (Lot's of "no"s as she backs away from Schanke) No!
Schanke: Listen to me! I saw the winning numbers. They floated into my mind like a vision.
Jenkins: Uh uh. I don't think so, Schanke.
Schanke: Oh, come on. Why not?
Jenkins: Because of the last time you suckered me into something like this.
Schanke: Last time?
Jenkins: That sure bet at the racetrack? You remember, the horse that refused to leave the gate?
Schanke: Just had nerves. By the time she started going, though, she set a track record.
Jenkins: So what? The race was over!
Schanke: It's a moot point. (Jenkins walks away and Schanke goes up to two other officers) Melvoyne, Lang, you guys want a little piece of this, huh? (They turn away) Why is everybody so tight with a buck?
Cohen: Schanke! In my office!

Cohen: Shall not engage in, nor solicit, nor encourage contributions, wagers, bets, or gambling of any kind, pursuant to section A of city bylaw 45993. Do you have anything to say for yourself, Detective Schanke?
Schanke: Well, uh.... (stalling, then Nick knocks and enters) I'm glad Nick's here.
Nick: Uh, I've got a signature on the bomber. Japanese relay from a garage door opener.
Schanke: Remote detonator. Sounds like Plastik Polchuk.
Cohen: I thought he was in Millhaven.
Nick: Paroled three weeks ago.
Cohen: Where is he now?
Nick: Well, I've got Ministry of Corrections working on it.
Schanke: Why don't you call your buddy Sean Du Champs? Maybe he dropped off his garage door opener at Polchuk's.
Nick: Investigators come up with anything in the audit?
Cohen: No irregularities.
Schanke: Yet.
Cohen: All right. Follow up on Polchuk, and check with Bomb and Arson. See if they have anybody else in their files with similar MO's. (Nick leaves) And Schanke?
Schanke: Yeah. (He leaves)

Feliks: Ah, the wonders of science. The indoor greenhouse is a boon to the vampire gardener, Nicholas. My lovely little leafy lasses flourish under the sun lamps, and, as long as I avoid the lamp's rays, we're all happy. A compromise arrangement you would do well to emulate instead of this mad pursuit of yours to become human.
Nick: I don't mean to be impertinent, Feliks, but I don't need a lecture from you right now. What I do need, is to find out what happened to the de Brabant trust.
Feliks: Your obsession with this money. It will be your ruination, Nicholas. Plants! Plants are the answer. All you need invest is dirt, water, light, and love, and in return, they supply beauty. Something your precious money cannot buy.
Nick: The trust fund, Feliks?
Feliks: Patience, my boy. Even as we speak, I am tracking it. Now where did I put it? (Looks for it, finds it under a fern) Ahh, here it is! (Holds it up and blows off the stuff on it) It has an infrared data communications port for wireless data transfers to my computer, which is linked to your Swiss bank.
Nick: Oh. Thank you.
Feliks: Now, as I recall, your arrangement with Maison Du Champs was iron-clad. Foundation's accounts were kept separate from the rest of the Du Champs business.
Nick: Exactly the way you had me set it up.
Feliks: Yes, a brilliant stroke, if I say so myself. And, ah, we created some sort of electronic trigger, did we not?
Nick: Yes, so that the assets would automatically transfer to a Swiss account in the event of Charles Du Champs' death.
Feliks: Elegant, as always. Let's see what we've got. What's your access code?

Feliks: Most unusual.... Give me your access code again.

Walken: And what am I to make of this?
Sean: We're even.
Walken: Hmmm.

Feliks: This just doesn't make any sense.
Nick: What?
Feliks: I keep getting bumped out of the system. As if the account's been closed.
Nick: What do you mean?
Feliks: I don't know how to tell you this. You've got 478 million dollars of missing assets. The entire account's been cleaned out.

Nightcrawler: It is said that nature will not tolerate excess. As in the case of those who take more than their fair share. They're dealt with accordingly.

Janette: (As Nick changes and pins his 'accomplice against a wall) Nicolas!
LaCroix: Have I taught you nothing?
Nick: You taught me to take what I desire.
LaCroix: I taught you to take what you need! This chest contains only a trap of greed. And greed, my arrogant child, breeds tragedy.
(Nick kills the man)

Nightcrawler: For when you have too much, there will always be someone wanting to take it away from you. So maybe you should ask yourself, has your blood money been a blessing, or a curse?

Nick: (His phone rings) Yeah, Knight.
Schanke: Polchuk's staying at the Summit and Arms Motel.
Nick: All right, I'll meet you there. I've got to make a stop first.

Luke (Bouncer): Back of the line.
Nick: (Flashes his badge) Official business.
Luke: My bosses want any cop, and no cops in here.
Nick: Come here. *But your boss is a fool. So you're going to let me and all my friends inside.* Thank you. (Walks in)
Luke: Yo! Everybody inside.

Sean: Partners? You want half the foundation? You can't be serious.
Walken: Yes, I see our relationship as more of a partnership now.
Sean: I have more money than God. What makes you think I need a partner?
Walken: Experience. Having money is one thing. Holding onto it, is another.
Sean: My father had plenty of experience, and money. Now he's dead.
Walken: I'm disappointed. I had thought you'd see the sense in my proposal.
Sean: You're disappointed because you have your talons in the back of a beast you can't control.
Walken: A most ungrateful beast for all his newly inherited wealth.
Sean: I owe you some money, Walken, not my soul.
Walken: Soul? One doesn't usually think of a patricide as having one.
Sean: I had nothing to do with my father's death.
Walken: Oh, but you did. Partner.
Sean: You're making a mistake, Walken. A big mistake. Wipe off my debts, call off your dogs, or I'll go the authorities.

Schanke: Come on.
Answering machine: This is Nick Knight. I'm not in or I'm asleep. Leave a message.
Schanke: Great. Nick. Nick, I'm at the hotel. Our friend the bomber's here. Where are you?

Nick: (from inside Sean's car) It's open. Get in.
(Sean looks in, then after a moment, gets in.)
Sean: Uh, I'm sorry, Detective...?
Nick: Knight.
Sean: Right. Isn't there a law against unlawful entry, Detective Knight?
Nick: Yes, and there's also a law against drunk driving, so why don't we just have a little chat off the record, okay?
Sean: What about?
Nick: The de Brabant Foundation.
Sean: Yes?
Nick: It's worth a fortune, right?
Sean: Perhaps.
Nick: What happened to it?
Sean: I don't know what you're talking about.
Nick: Sean, your father's death may be related to the disappearance of hundreds of millions of dollars. It could have been stolen. It could have been embezzled. Now, do you want to tell me what you know? Or would you like to tell it to a judge?
Sean: Information concerning clients is confidential.
Nick: Sean, *where is the money?* (It doesn't work) Your life is in jeopardy, Sean.
Sean: I appreciate your concern, Detective, but I have a responsibility. I'm just doing my job.
Nick: Fine. Have it your way. (Reaches over and takes the car keys)
Sean: What do you think you're doing?
Nick: My job. I have a responsibility, too.
Sean: How am I supposed to get home?
Nick: Funny, a minute ago you had all the answers. Sean, let me give you a little piece of advice. Right now, you're swimming in self importance. But in time, all your greed and your wealth will weigh you down. And eventually, you'll drown. (Gets out of the car)
Sean: Hey! Hey, what about my keys?

Nick: Hey, are you all right?
Schanke: Yeah, three stitches and a lot of luck, considering I was blown halfway to Buttonville. The ER docs asked my name and what day it is, and boom, I'm back here. Anything about the bomb?
Nick: Well, lab says it wasn't his own. Polchuk could be murdered.
Natalie: (Walking up) He was. (Holds up a bag) Bomb techs tell me this used to be a pager, but there was enough of a serial number on the back for them to run a trace. Are you all right, Schank?
Schanke: Yeah, my name's Donald G. Schanke and it's Tuesday.
Natalie: Yeah. Pager is registered to Sean Du Champs.
Schanke: Bingo.
Nick: Doesn't prove anything.
Schanke: No, but it's enough to bring him in.

Sean: I have no idea who this man is.
Schanke: Was. Past tense. As in dead.
Sean: Come on, this is ridiculous. I was at Paparazzi when it happened, you know that. How could I be talking to you one minute, and the next minute be across town blowing somebody up?
Schanke: Modern technology, Sean. Wire C4 to a pager, dial a number, beep-beep-beep-kaboom.
Nick: Any idea how your pager got into his possession, Sean?
Sean: I don't know. It was probably stolen.
Schanke: You have a garage door opener?
Sean: I lost it.
Nick: How long ago?
Sean: I-I don't know. Past couple of weeks?
Nick: Did you report it lost?
Sean: Come on, it's a thirty dollar item, I haven't had time to replace it.
Schanke: Did you report your pager stolen?
Sean: I-I told you, I didn't know it was stolen. I haven't used it in a few years.
Schanke: Ooh, not according to the phone company.
Nick: Sean. (Pulls out a piece of paper and puts it in front of Sean) Do you recognize any of these numbers? Sean: No.
Schanke: Oh yeah, well, let me help you out. This one's a known drug dealer, and this one, and this one.... Do you do drugs, Sean?
Nick: Schank.
Sean: I don't have to answer that. I'm warning you, Detective--
Schanke: Now don't threaten me.
Sean: My lawyer will be here any minute. I pay him big money to eat insects like you.
Schanke: You can't buy your way out of murder, Sean. And I've got another flash for you. There's no penthouse in Millhaven.

Cohen: (to Sean's lawyer) He's all yours.
(They lawyer goes off in the direction Nick and Schanke arrive from)
Schanke: Who's that?
Cohen: Du Champs' lawyer.
Schanke: We're letting junior go?
Cohen: We don't have enough to hold him, and I don't need to be up all night engaged in a spitting contest with his attorney. (She walks away)
Schanke: Bet she'd win.
Cohen: I heard that. (Keeps walking, and they follow her to her office) Why are you following me?
Nick: I think we should tail him.
Cohen: He'll slap us with harassment.
Schanke: Why do you keep giving this creep the benefit of the doubt?
Nick: What time does your watch say?
Schanke: It broke in the explosion.
Nick: Exactly. What time does it say?
Schanke: One twenty five.
Nick: Yeah, well, I was with Sean at that time. He couldn't have dialed the number that set off the bomb. I think someone's setting him up. Someone who knows he's got access to a lot of money. I think Charles Du Champs was murdered to send Sean a message. Pay up or you're next.
Schanke: And Polchuk?
Nick: Well, someone came up with a convenient way to get rid of a witness and tighten the screws on Sean. I can guarantee you he's not going home tonight. He's going to make his move. And I think we should be there when he does.
Cohen: We never had this conversation.

Sean: (To his lawyer, getting dropped off) Thanks again, Jeff, for the bail-out. I'll call your office tomorrow.

Schanke: I thought we worked odd hours. What's wrong with this picture? (Watching Sean be taken forcibly to a waiting car.) What's wrong with this picture?
Nick: Either Sean's making his move, or they're making it for him.
Schanke: Shall we make ours?
Nick: Let's let it play. I know where he's going. Follow him.

Walken: This is Mr. Foster. Mr. Foster built the bomb that killed Mr. Polchuk, who built the bomb that killed your father. Now, I can dispose of Mr. Foster in a manner that would clear you of suspicion. Or I can make it look as if you killed Mr. Foster to cover your tracks. One murder, there's reasonable doubt. Two murders...starts to look very unsympathetic. And three.... Well, consider what it will cost just to defend yourself. Then reconsider my offer. Half of the foundation's assets, more than either of us will ever need. It's a simple question of greed, Sean. Ask yourself this, 'How much is my life worth?'

Walken: What's it going to be, Sean? I'm waiting, Sean.

Schanke: Damn, I hate when that happens.
Nick: What?
Schanke: You were right about the kid being blackmailed. How'd you know?
Nick: I had a vision.

Sean: All right. I'll do it.
Walken: We're online to your bank in Switzerland. All you have to do, is complete the transaction.

Schanke: Looks like it's time to break up the party.
Nick: Let them make the transaction first. It will give us a paper trail.
(Note: Access code seen: 70-283419-42 08/671/448 DM)

Nick: I desire the money!
LaCroix: You do not need it, Nicholas. Leave it for the king's guard.
Nick: I will have it.
LaCroix: Mark my words, Nicholas. You will learn this lesson well. Material wealth is a burden! (He and Janette leave)

Sean: It's done.
Walken: Good. (Takes his gun and shoots Mr. Foster, then points gun at Sean, who runs, but is stopped by two guards)

Nick: Try the doors, I'll take the roof.

Walken: I could have taken it all, but that would have been...conspicuous. This way there's plenty left for me, and enough left over to make it look as if you just couldn't embezzle it all before the remorse set in...and drove you to suicide. (An alarm goes off) Gentlemen....

Walken: I knew you'd be back. Even given the chance to escape, you just couldn't bear to part with the money, could you?

Sean: All I've done is access the account. I'll give you everything. 478 million. You can have it all.
Walken: Avarice, young man, is a deadly sin.

Nick: Walken! Drop the gun.
Schanke: (Entering as well) Put it down, Walken. Right now.
Nick: Do it.
Schanke: Walken! We're not playing games here, Mr. Walken. Put the gun down and back away. Now.
(Walken turns to aim his weapon at Nick and Schanke, and they fire, hitting Walken.)

LaCroix: Mark my words. Material wealth is a burden.

Sean: Thank you, Detective. I appreciate what you did for me.
Schanke: No problem. It's my job.
(Sean leaves, Cohen approaches)
Schanke: So where's he going?
Cohen: Wherever he wants.
Schanke: You mean the auditors didn't find anything?
Cohen: A couple of unreported transactions raised some eyebrows, but nothing illegal.
Schanke: Oh, man, what a life. Money, mansions, limousines.
Cohen: Go home, Detective. Get some sleep. And keep dreaming.
(Cohen leaves)
Jenkins: Oh my god. Oh my god.
Schanke: (Walking over) What is it, Jenkins?
Jenkins: Oh my god, I got off the phone.... Melvoyne and Lang won the lottery. Melvoyne and Lang won the lottery.
Schanke: No. Melvoyne and Lang and they wouldn't cough up a buck for my office pool? They won the lottery? Fifteen million dollars, oh my god.
Jenkins: They asked me to go in with them on the ticket and I turned them down. Because of you!
Schanke: Oh my god. Oh! (Shifts, grabs his chest) I'm having a heart attack. Yep. Yep, that's what it is. Old stiff feeling in the left arm, old shortness of breath. (Turns to Jenkins) Call an ambulance.

Nick: When he transferred the money, he wiped the account off the books. As if the money never existed. I gave Feliks Twist the new access codes. By now, the assets should be parked in a bank in Luxembourg.
Janette: Tell me something. Why didn't you just let the money go?
Nick: Too many people have died over the centuries for it. I can't change that. I can't bring them back.
Janette: But Nicolas, many of them were wicked.
Nick: All the more reason to put the money to good use.
Janette: Ah, yes, you would do something like that. So now you have your burden back. To your burden then, and to what I might do to ease it for you.

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