11x14 - The Great White Moose

[bunniefuu]

If... it's a girl, I like Mary.

Oh. Your mother's name.

I would like to honour her.

I love the name Mary.

- And if it's a boy?
- Well...

William would be nice.

William the second?

It is a convention to name the eldest son after his father.

So we'll be calling him... Junior?

Or... Will.

Or... Will... Will... Will.

His name should be something other than a verb, noun

- and future indicative!
- Cheque please.

- William...
- You don't have to say the name if you don't like it.

I never said that I didn't like your name.

I'm afraid I can only offer you this.

"You've saved my life.

Allow me to pay for your meal."

How extraordinary!

- Whoever could it be?
- I have no idea.

Well, it couldn't be for me. It must be for you.

I've never saved anyone.

Well, except you. Twice.

Well, I've never saved anyone either.

There was the one... I suppose if you count...

You simply have to tell us.

You're invited to join him in the private section.

♪

President Roosevelt!

Detective Murdoch and Doctor Ogden.

Imagine my delight at seeing you here!

Oh, these fine men are my guide and guard,

- Victor Palmer and Wilbur Reynolds.
- Gentlemen.

- What brings you to Canada, Mr. President?
- Yes!

Ahem.

I am here to hunt the legendary white moose!

I've never heard of such a thing.

Well, I believe albinos exist in every mammal species.

Oh, it's not an albino! It has dark eyes.

That's what makes it so rare.

Then... may I ask, why do you want to k*ll it?

To preserve it, of course.

You could preserve it with a photograph.

There's already a photograph.

Hmm?

It's the moose I want.

And where do you hope to find it?

Oh, apparently he returns to Crane Lake every year at the fall equinox.

Is that common, for an animal to go to the same spot at exactly the same time?

Well, perhaps it's legend, but...

I'm willing to take that chance.

Well, then, I wish you happy hunting.

I wish you happy hunting too.

- I just hope you miss.
- Oh!

Oh! Oh. I must ask that we keep this meeting secret.

The Canadian government is unaware I'm in your country.

Ah...

- Your secret is safe with us.
- Ha ha ha!

I don't care if he's the king of bloody England, he's... he's sneaking into our country to k*ll our moose!

You're laying claim to the moose?

- Well, it's a beautiful, rare
- Sir!

- and majestic beast, and...
- Doctor!

George?

I'm sorry to disturb you on a night out, but we've had a call at the station house.

Somebody's requesting that you meet them at the Queen's Hotel, room .

- Who?
- They wouldn't say, sir.

- Only that it was of vital importance.
- Oh.

Terribly sorry. I'll see you at home.

Well, actually, sir, he's asked for both of you.

Hmm!

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC)

♪

Oh, no.

Is this the man that called us?

- No.
- (JULIA GASPING)

Terrence Myers.

His name is Guillermo Burgos.

He was an agent for Spanish Intelligence.

I'd like you to find out who k*lled him and why.

♪

We had a meeting but he failed to show, so I became suspicious.

What was the meeting about?

I'm not at liberty to say.

Did it have anything to do with the Americans?

No.

Why do you ask?

The door was forced open.

It was locked from the inside. I had no choice.

All of the windows are also locked, which means Mr. Burgos d*ed inside this room alone.

And along with the fact of his death there's a top-secret dossier that's missing.

There are no obvious signs of trauma.

I won't know cause of death until I conduct a post-mortem.

Can you help me flip him?

There's something under the sheet.

Let me see that.

That is the missing dossier. Intact, thank God.

I'll see you both in the morgue in the morning.

(DOOR CLOSING)

♪

- An injection mark.
- That's what I thought at first, but there were no signs of poison in the blood or the organs.

And it's also not where one

- would readily find a vein.
- No.

So he wasn't poisoned?

Well, there are several poisons that are fairly undetectable, but I found something much more interesting.

Electrical burns to the bottom of the sigmoid intestine.

Obviously, an electrode was placed internally.

So this was t*rture?

Actually, I believe it was the means of execution.

This is where the electrodes were attached.

The charge would have traveled through the heart, stopping it long enough to cause death.

So he wasn't tortured?

Well, there was a slight deformation of the ulna, which could have been quite painful.

How recent?

I'll need your Roentgen ray device to determine that.

I'll have it sent over straight away.

Electrocuted?

It's also likely he was tortured.

You seem preoccupied with that possibility.

Is your concern for the victim, or what he may have revealed?

Do I seem like the sentimental type?

If it was worth torturing and k*lling a man for, then it's at the centre of this case.

- Tell us what it is.
- I can't.

- National...
- Bloody security. Right?

So where does that leave us, Murdoch?

Mr. Burgos was electrocuted.

Now, he did not do that to himself in a locked room.

Also, the k*ller somehow escaped without using the door or the window.

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC)

♪

Sir, perhaps the k*ller was never actually in this room.

Then how did he k*ll Mr. Burgos?

Perhaps... with robotic arms... built into this wall... just waiting for the victim to fall asleep and when he did, they made use of this point of entry.

They came in through the vents, extended across the room, taking the victim in their deathlike grip... and when the deed was done, they simply retracted

- without a trace.
- And how were these...

"robotic arms" controlled?

By whoever was in the next room, of course.

"The next room."

Help me with this, George.

Good lord!

Find out who stayed in room , please.

Yes, sir.

♪

- Sir.
- What have you, George?

The room was rented by a Juan Gonzalez.

Did you get a description?

Nobody remembers seeing him.

I believe this apparatus was used to k*ll Mr. Burgos.

Hmm...

Sir... there's something under the bed here.

It looks like... photo processing equipment.

I used the Roentgen rays to determine whether the ulna fracture was recent,

- and the answer is yes.
- How recent?

Sometime in the last two or three days.

It appears to be the result of a force applied slowly.

- Painful?
- Very.

So this was t*rture?

Yes, that's a reasonable conclusion.

I also found this.

I would have dismissed it as a sliver had it not been for the location.

- It's right above the injection mark.
- Exactly.

- Something was inserted directly into the muscle.
- Post-mortem?

I believe so. I retrieved it and discovered it was a roll of metal foil.

I've unfurled it. Take a look.

"E N"?

- "E N"?
- Yes.

Let me see that.

No. It can't be.

What can't it be?

I've seen this before. I know this k*ller's work.

Who is it?

El Noche.

Spanish for The Night.

He's an assassin who specializes in k*lling his victims invisibly.

Well, then, why leave his mark?

Vanity.

He wants his work appreciated, but only by those worthy enough to find it.

At least now we know who we're looking for.

How do we find him?

You can't. He doesn't exist.

He's a character in a novel.

Is someone impersonating him?

I'm the only one that's read the book.

Who's the author?

A former adversary

now imprisoned.

His location is top secret. You can't go there.

Well then, he'll just have to be brought to the station house!

(OMINOUS MUSIC)

♪

(DRIVER): Whoa, whoa, whoa.

Giddy up! (GRUNTING)

Thank you. You can go.

Allen Clegg.

I thought you were dead.

Hello, gentlemen.

As you may recall, Mr. Clegg was relinquished to our authority after he attempted an att*ck on his own country.

Which he tried to blame on Canada.

I expected he would hang!

Mr. Clegg is now a guest of the Canadian government.

Apparently, your prime minister felt me more valuable alive.

- Alas... I didn't talk.
- No.

But he has chosen to write a book. Hmm?

Entitled... Shadow of the Night.

You intercepted it.

Oh, come, Mr. Clegg!

You didn't actually believe we would allow you to publish a book, did you?

Ahem. Who's read it?

Only me.

What's this book about?

A disgraced American agent reclaims his glory by foiling the assassination of the president who abandoned him.

That's it. That's your precis.

- Who's El Noche?
- El Noche is a Spanish assassin whose brother was k*lled on San Juan Hill.

He swore vengeance against the man who pulled the trigger.

- Theodore Roosevelt.
- If you don't mind.

He tricks Roosevelt into coming to Canada to hunt a great white moose.

He knows that Roosevelt will want this moose, and that he'll sneak into Canada with a minimal retinue rather than suffer a meeting with Laurier.

Roosevelt apparently finds him boring.

True.

We've uncovered a m*rder that was committed by someone who left the mark of El Noche.

A fictional character?

Oh, he's not entirely fictional.

You based your villain on a real person?

- It's permissible in fiction.
- Who is he?

I first heard of El Noche during the Spanish-American w*r.

No one knew who he was, but anyone who wronged Spain could expect his shadow to fall on them.

Through systematic methods of persuasion, we learned a good deal about him.

Did you leave anything out or make anything up?

I made up the plot and the bit about the white moose.

Everything else I got from stories I was told.

El Noche... is deadly real, gentlemen, and he always finds his target.

(OMINOUS MUSIC)

♪

(DRIVER): Giddy up!

(MURDOCH): It's time for the truth, Myers.

I've told you the truth.

Theodore Roosevelt was in Toronto last night.

- How do you know that?
- We met him, my wife and I.

He paid for our dinner just before you sent for us.

You didn't think that worthy of mention?

He's in Canada to hunt the great white moose... which apparently returns to the same place at the same time every year.

He showed me the Geographic article, which I assume you got into his hands.

I should never have brought you into this.

If my superiors were to discover

- that this was out...
- Well, it is bloody out!

And if you don't tell them, we will.

- I'm afraid you can't do that.
- Murdoch,

- get on the phone to the Prime Minister's office.
- Yes, sir.

They know who we are.

Tell them it's a matter of national security.

Switchboard. Police protocol.

I'd like to call Ottawa, please.

The Prime Minister's office.

Thank you.

The Prime Minister doesn't know about any of this.

Who does?

Burgos... but he's dead now. So, just me.

And possibly El Noche.

(SIGHING) Ahem.

Gentlemen, when I read Clegg's book, it struck a chord.

The protagonist is based on Clegg.

The whole book is a roman a clef of his wishful fantasies... but it spoke to me.

An agent whose star has fallen finds a path to redemption.

Your star has fallen?

There were certain incidents during my time in Borneo that have somewhat darkened my reputation.

And how does tricking the American President into coming to Canada to hunt a moose restore that reputation?

Burgos was to fake an assassination attempt, which I was to foil.

You copied Clegg's entire plot?!

How was I supposed to know it was based on real life?

Carry on.

Naturally, Roosevelt would have been grateful that we had saved his life.

Likewise, he would have been embarrassed that he had sneaked into Canada.

This would have given Laurier... an edge during reciprocity negotiations, and I would be restored to agent, first class.

And Burgos?

Burgos, already compromised, feared retribution from Spain.

After his capture, I was to fake his death and give him a new identity.

Unfortunately, he was tracked down and k*lled by El Noche himself.

A bit of irony there.

So, how do we catch him?

Well, sir, the first step is to learn all we can about El Noche,

- starting with Mr. Clegg's book.
- No.

I'm afraid that's classified as top secret.

Not anymore, it isn't.

I'm finished. Who has chapter six?

- I do.
- Well, here. Let's swap.

We aren't supposed to swap.

Damn it, Higgins! Chapter five ends with El Noche drawing a bead on Roosevelt's forehead!

I have to know what happens next!

Roosevelt trips and the sh*t goes over his head.

That's a bit anti-climactic.

What a crackerjack of a novel, eh lads?

- Who's got chapter five?
- Sir!

Gentlemen, gentlemen. We are only reading one chapter each and noting everything about El Noche.

Oh! You are the death of joy, Murdoch.

Thank you, sir.

What have we learned so far?

He's not afraid of heights.

He travels in the treetops above his quarry.

And he has a terrible fear of water, won't even get into a boat.

He hides photos in his bedposts.

I'm sorry, what?

El Noche knows that they're on the way to his room.

They still don't know what he looks like.

But if they find the photos in his room, then they'll know all his plans, so he hides the photos in his bedpost.

Bloody brilliant!

Anything?

Nothing.

Hid it in the bedpost.

Oh, well.

Perhaps Mr. Clegg invented it

- as a plot device.
- Mm-hmm.

Wrote himself into a corner...

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC)

♪

Would you look at that?

It's what I feared, gentlemen.

How do you mean?

That is a photograph of a document from the dossier that Burgos was carrying.

What does that mean?

It means that El Noche has all the information he needs to assassinate President Roosevelt himself.

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC)

♪

Sirs. The station agent at Brignall said that the only people who disembarked at the northbound : were a woman and two children.

What about southbound?

He said a lone man did get off the Southbound train at : .

But that can't be El Noche.

He would be traveling northbound.

But sir, if he carried on northbound to Parry Sound, then took the southbound to avoid detection...

It's what I would do.

So he's got a head start.

Henry, when is the next train out of Toronto?

There's a : out of Union Station, sir.

That's enough time to pack and change.

We'll make Crane Lake by nightfall.

But we know he prefers to att*ck under the cover of darkness.

We also know the assassin is terrified of water.

We'll be safe on this island.

(BRACKENREID): Well! Get to it then, gentlemen.

Where is my bolograph?

Your what?

It converts heat radiation into a graphic array.

You can see people in the dark.

Well, actually sir, you can see the heat radiating off of their bodies. George!

Sir, I found it!

Where was it?

Sir, McNabb had taken it to help him sh**t raccoons.

Bloody McNabb. Big dozy git.

Thank you.

Well, get a move on, then.

You've got minutes to catch that train.

- Yeah!
- Good luck.

(FAST-PACED MUSIC)

♪

(TRAIN HORN BLOWING)

You know, it occurs to me, Murdoch, that should we reach Roosevelt before El Noche att*cks,

I will, in fact, be saving the American President from assassination.

- Ha!
- And if Roosevelt dies?

The Americans will want to know why he was in Canada.

They'll probably uncover the role I played and my life will be over.

Then I'd suggest we pick up the pace.

Sir!

A body has been found in an alleyway off Darcy Street.

Well, let's get a move on.

- And let's inform Dr. Ogden.
- Sir.

All right. Let's see what we've got then, Crabtree.

- Oh!
- Oh, good God!

Oh! It appears he's lost his head.

And hands by the look of it, sir.

The k*ller obviously didn't want us to identify him.

What have we, gentlemen?

- A particularly grisly one I'm afraid, Doctor.
- That it is.

(REPRESSED GAGGING)

Excuse me.

Well, I've never seen her react like that before.

Sir, that's the second time I've seen Dr. Ogden overcome like that.

Women have peculiar constitutions, Crabtree.

When Margaret was expecting Bobby, the sight of blood would send her into a fit.

Sir, are you suggesting Dr. Ogden is with child?

Bloody hell, Crabtree! I'm saying women are unpredictable.

Don't look for a reason for their behavior.

You won't find it.

- Everything all right, Doctor?
- Let's just get it over with.

(SQUISHING SOUNDS)

Judging by the... the body temperature... and state of rigor mortis, I'd suggest... the time of death was shortly after midnight.

As for the cause of death...

I'll have to let you know.

Ah!

- Sir, something rather gross has been found.
- Oh, no.

(SOFT MUSIC)

♪

(BIRDS CHIRPING)

Three bedrolls. The President is traveling with two other men.

(g*n BEING COCKED)

Mr. President.

My dog chased a rabbit through the fence.

He didn't catch the rabbit, but he found this.

He wanted to keep digging.

- Whoa, boy.
- Oh, gracious.

Oh, bloody hell.

Sir... are you thinking what I'm thinking?

That this belongs to the body we found earlier?

Get your dog to sniff around some more.

I'll give you a dollar for every body part you find.

- How about two?
- Don't push it.

- Come on.
- Sir, look. There's a scar on the middle finger.

So?

The fingermark I lifted from the photograph in the bedpost had a similar scar.

How would a Spanish assassin know I'm here?

Even my cabinet is in the dark about it.

- Well, sir...
- We don't know.

But as you well know, sir, Spanish spies are among the world's best.

I'm convinced as to the thr*at, Mr. President.

Damn it, Reynolds! I'm not leaving without that moose.

It returns every year, sir.
We can always come back.

You say he only att*cks at night.

- Well, according to...
- (MYERS): That's correct.

Then we won't have time to get to Brignall Station before dark.

No, but we can get to the island before the sun sets.

But what good is the island?
We'll be sitting ducks.

The assassin is afraid of open water.

Won't even get into a boat.

How do you know so much about him? Hmm?

- Interestingly, we learned about him from...
- Spanish intelligence.

The assassin is apparently a rogue agent.

Personal vendetta against yourself apparently, sir.

What did I do to him?

His brother was k*lled in your charge up San Juan Hill.

Well, if that's the case, we ought to pack and move on as quickly as we can.

Go.

Murdoch, you cannot tell them about Clegg.

Mr. Meyers, I will not lie to the American President in order to spare you the consequences of your poor decisions.

Listen carefully. Clegg being alive was not my decision.

It was Laurier's.

Two years ago, we informed the American government that we had hanged Clegg. We did not.

We only kept him alive in order to extract

American intelligence secrets.

So you see, Murdoch... my own personal interests are not the only ones at stake here.

(OMINOUS MUSIC)

♪

It's a match, sir.

You're saying these belong to the infamous El Noche.

Well, most of him. There's still a head and a hand at large.

He was an assassin who k*lled an assassin.

- And has now been assassinated.
- Concisely put, Sir.

- Thank you, Crabtree.
- We found the head.

Let's have a look.

Crikey!

Sir that's...

The prison guard that escorted Clegg to our station.

So Clegg's escort was El Noche?

He's been dead how long?

Midnight last night.

Clegg and the guard left the station after o'clock.

Sir, I'll get Clegg's picture to all points of transit.

Carry on, Higgins.

Sir.

The device uses a bolometer and a graphic array to visualize heat radiation.

This would be excellent for hunting at night.

It's only accurate up to yards, but should help us see anyone approaching the island.

There's someone coming right now.

Sir, you must remain in the tent.

Canvas won't stop a b*llet, Meyers.

No, but it will obscure you from a sn*per on the mainland. Please.

Sir.

We found the Canadian government wagon abandoned outside Union Station.

So he's making good his escape.

If freedom is what he's seeking.

How do you mean?

Well, we showed Clegg's photo around Union Station this morning.

A clerk remembers selling him a train ticket to Brignall this morning.

Brignall?

That's the nearest station to where Roosevelt is camped.

Sir, it can't be a coincidence.

What does this have to do with El Noche?

Sir, what if Clegg's guard was playing the role of El Noche while Clegg was still imprisoned?

To what end, though?

Because Clegg's been trying to obscure the true identity of the assassin all along.

Bloody hell!

Allen Clegg...

(CRABTREE): ... is El Noche.

(OMINOUS MUSIC)

There'll be a station agent at Brignall.

Get me Brignall station right away.

Yes, sir. This is Toronto Constabulary.

We need to get an urgent message to a hunting party at Crane Lake.

- Yes, I realize it's nighttime.
- Oh! Give me that, Crabtree.

Now listen to me!

The American President is staying at Crane Lake.

He will be k*lled if he doesn't get this message immediately.

The message as follows:

Allen Clegg is El Noche.

And he's escaped. Repeat:

Allen Clegg is El Noche. And he's escaped.

(AMBIENT MUSIC)

♪

I must insist you keep down, Mr. President.

He can still sh**t at us from the mainland.

Well, let him try!

His muzzleflash will reveal his position.

(ROOSEVELT SIGHING)

Perhaps you should remove your hat...

Mr. President.

(ROOSEVELT SIGHING)

(OMINOUS MUSIC)

♪

The Parry Sound Constabulary has sent a group of men, but most likely they likely won't get there until dawn.

What about the station agent?

He's on his way by canoe

- Apparently, it's quicker.
- Oh!

It'll be all right, Doctor.

As soon as he gets the message,

Detective Murdoch will know what to do.

(INSECTS CHIRPING)

The first I went hunting was in Maine.

I was taught by the best.

Bill Sewall, Wilmot Dow.

What were you hunting?

Waterfowl, mostly.

I was rather nervous at first.

The anticipation.

The exhilaration of lying in wait, finger on the trigger.

(CHUCKLING)

And now I lie in wait for someone to sh**t me.

Hmm.

Pardon me, Mr. President.

Detective Murdoch's device has picked up a signal.

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC)

(ELECTRONIC WHIRRING)

(INSECTS CHIRPING)

(MURDOCH): There's
somebody near our boat.

Here!

Who's that?

I don't know.

It's the railway agent from Brignall Station.

- What's he doing out here?
- There's something in his mouth.

It's part of a telegram from Station House Number Four.

El Noche.

(BIRD CALLING)

El Noche?

It's the name of the assassin.

Where's the rest of that message?

- More importantly, what was the message?
- No, no, no. Hold on.

El Noche is Spanish for The Night.

He calls himself The Night?

You've heard of him?

Oh, yes. We know a man who called himself The Night...but he wasn't Spanish.

Who was he?

An American agent you know, Mr. Meyers.

Your government hanged him two years ago.

Are you speaking of Allen Clegg?

Murdoch...

- Allen Clegg called himself The Night?
- Murdoch, a word...

Enough lies, Mr. Meyers.

Allen Clegg is alive, Mr. President.

And I fear he may be the man who seeks to k*ll you.

(MYERS): What?

Think of it!

We were sent a message of enough importance that the Station Agent canoed for miles through the night to try to get it to us.

You think that message was meant to warn us that Clegg himself is the assassin?

Why has your government lied to me?!

I'm not at liberty to discuss that, Sir.

More importantly, why would Clegg want to k*ll you?

Well, we... we have a history.

We met at Harvard.

We were both writing our theses on the w*r of .

Clegg was obsessed that America had lost its opportunity to claim Canada as its own.

And he still is.

You think it's possible that Clegg seeks to start another w*r with Canada?

But how would k*lling me result in w*r?

It's not like I was coerced into coming here.

Not coerced...

Tricked.

Isn't that right, Mr. Meyers?

(OMINOUS MUSIC)

♪

What can you tell us about Allen Clegg?

When I was Secretary of the Navy,

Clegg was a covert operative.

It is believed he planted a b*mb on the hull of the USS Maine.

In Havana Harbor?

Yes.

The expl*si*n split the ship in two.

And the w*r was declared against Spain.

If Clegg was a navy diver...

He's not afraid of water.

He only told us that to get us on this island.

Which means our sanctuary is a trap.

Reynolds!

Why won't he answer?

Get down!

Got your answer.

Dear God.

He scuttled the boat.

We'll have to swim for it.

Sir. Agent Clegg now has the bolograph, which means he can see us.

- Palmer!
- Get down, sir!

(GASPING)

He's given away his position.

You might've gotten him.

I doubt it.

Sir, we've got to get you to the mainland.

I'm not leaving this island without Palmer.

You don't have to. All we have to do is get into the water.

- The water is freezing.
- Precisely my point.

If we lower our body temperatures, he won't be able to see us with the bolograph.

And then?

We fight back.

All right.

Let's move.

(GROANING)

Cover him with blankets.
Try to make him comfortable.

What can I do?

Fill this bag with warm rocks from the fire.

For what reason?

You've hunted waterfowl before. We're making a decoy.

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC)

♪

(ARROW WHISTLING)

(GROANING)

(g*nf*re)

Right. After him!

- Blood.
- Let's track him.

(g*n BEING COCKED)

(SIGHING)

(g*n BEING COCKED)

(BIRDS CHIRPING)

There's more blood.

- We're close.
- Sir, be careful. It could be a trap.

You've been saying that since dawn broke, Murdoch.

Let's just say I have my own reasons for being careful.

And that is?

Can you keep a secret?

Murdoch, I'm a spy.

Julia is with child.

That's wonderful, Murdoch. And yes, your secret is safe with...

- Meyers, no!
- Get him!

Murdoch, this way!

(GROANING)

(DRAMATIC MUSIC)

Sir, wait!

♪

I've lost sight of him.

So have I.

Ahem.

If I put my g*n down, you'll sh**t the President and flee.

I can't let you do that.

You sh**t him, and I will sh**t you.

I'm surprised at you Clegg.

How did you not think this through?

You betrayed me.

- You betrayed America.
- I'm a patriot!

A patriot!

Unlike all of you pacifists who refused to see that America can have everything it wants.

It just needs a reason to take it.

Which you are about to provide, hmm?

I'm gonna k*ll you both and then disappear and let the evidence speak for itself.

(LAUGHING)

(SNARLING)

Put the w*apon down, Clegg.

(MOOSE BELLOWING)

There you are, you son of a g*n!

Son of... (SCREAMING)

(SCREAMING)

(SENTIMENTAL MUSIC)

A quarter inch to the left and it would have pierced the aorta.

Be grateful for a punctured lung.

I'm grateful for many things, Doctor.

Yes, well, we can all be grateful.

Ah yes.

I believe congratulations are in order.

You told him?

He's a spy.

He can keep a secret.

With my life if necessary.

Thank you.

(SIGHING)

If it's a boy, I quite like Julian.

Julian?

After you.

William...

I don't want him to be named after me, or you!

I want him to have his own name.

Daniel.

I've always loved the name Daniel.

Well then, Daniel it shall be.

(JULIA CHUCKLING SOFTLY)

(SOFT MUSIC)

♪

(GRUNTING)

I suppose Clegg will hang this time?

After our boys have had a chat with him...an extensive chat.

Sir... with regard to recent events, I'm of the opinion it serves both our interests...

That no one find out about this.

You did come to Canada without permission.

You almost arranged my assassination.

Shall we call it even, then?

I concur that history need not record this matter.

- But as for your Prime Minister...
- He need not be apprised, sir.

All right.

Sir, will you not be going after the Great White Moose?

My misadventure cost the life of a good man and very nearly two others.

I've set eyes on the beast.
That will have to be enough.

Thank you for saving my life yet again.

Always a pleasure.

Driver.

(MYERS): Well... Clegg, I suppose this is it.

I'll be seeing you in hell,

- I'm sure.
- Perhaps.

But not before I publish your novel.

Under the name Guillermo Burgos.