Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

You can't go. I'm telling you, you can't go.

Twenty-first of January, 2005.

- [police sirens wailing] - [helicopter whirring]

But you stay here and rest up. And I will be back.

[in English] Good night!

[playing soft piano music]

Hey! What's up? Did you talk to her yet?

You know how much he's worth?

- Can you walk? - Yeah.

God, Nik, what are you doing here?

Can I ask you something?

I do not wanna end it playing hero on some goddamn suicide mission...

Where are we at with the transfer?

[indistinct conversation]

- [upbeat song playing] - [indistinct chatter]

I told Nik that an extraction is... It's not feasible.

[song playing on speakers]

Okay. I gotta go. I gotta go.

[in Bengali] Hey! You there!

[Koen singing indistinctly]

[flies buzzing]

All right, kid. Do you trust me?

[whispering] Come on. Come on.

Ready and waiting.

- Do you under... - [all laugh]

Okay! [exclaims]

- [Tyler] How far past the gate? - What gate?

- How far? - Four kilometers.

[in English] Hey, man, you're crazy or what?

[Yaz] Sending proof of possession.

[helicopter whirring]

I need the money.

[Shadek] Yes, sir.

[chickens clucking]

Kid... Move fast. Stay low. Go!

[in Spanish] Estancia Los Chanares.

so let's say we cut this shit and get down to business, yeah?

I'll do my best to draw them away from both.

I didn't... I didn't mean it like that.

Here, eat this. Your blood sugar is low. That's why you feel like shit.

[indistinct clamoring and screaming]