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Title: To'hajiilee

*Lydia, Todd, Kenny, and Jack stare down at the liquid meth as it drips into the pan*

Jack: How big's a batch?

Todd: Should be about fifty pounds, give or take.

*Jack and Kenny remove their masks*

Todd: Uncle Jack, that mask. I think you should...Mr. White said the fumes aren't good to breathe.

Jack: Yeah, let me worry 'bout what I breathe, kid. Just hurry this up so I can grab a smoke.

*Kenny and Jack both look at Lydia. The tension is palpable. Todd takes a dropper and examines his product*

Todd: 76%.

Jack: Nice going, nephew.

Todd: Thanks, Uncle Jack.

Lydia: Where's the blue?

Jack: Where's the what?

Lydia: The blue color, does it come later when this hardens? Where is it?

*Lydia removes her mask*

Lydia: I am correct in assuming this should be blue?

Jack: See, I'm thinking the headline here should be: 76%.

Kenny: Yeah. A whole lot more than it was. That dude who looked like Wolverine? He couldn't crack seventy.

Lydia: Fine. Yes. Percentage-wise, it's marginally improved. And congratulations Todd, but blue is our brand. Over in Europe, it's what our buyers pay top dollar for. If we're down a bit of impurity from the Heisenberg days, maybe they'll let us slide on that. Not if it's not blue.

Jack: I don't know, to my eye, it's kinda blue.

Kenny: A little. It's bluish.

Jack: Toddy, you're the chef. What do you think?

Todd: Yeah, kinda. If it catches the light just right I could see how you'd think there's a touch of blue, blue-green in there.

Kenny: Aquamarine.

Jack: Hell, we'll put food coloring in it, make it any damn shade you want.

Kenny: Yeah, like they do farm-raised salmon. I mean, Jesus, you ever see how pink they make that crap? Like flamingo pink. Sure as hell don't come out the ocean lookin' like that.

Jack: Alright, let's make some money.

*Lydia looks at herself in the mirror. Todd walks over and hands her a cup of tea*

Todd: Here you go, Ms. Quayle.

Lydia: Lydia. Thank you.

Todd: Is the tea okay? I made it just like you asked.

Lydia: Mmhmm.

Todd: You sure? If it's too weak or something, I could go put another bag in.

Lydia: I'm sure.

Todd: Look, about the product. I'm really sorry about the color. For a minute or two it just got a few degrees too hot in the mixing kettle and I might've just cooked the color right out of it.

Lydia: You burned it? Like a cake?

Todd: Yeah, sorta, I guess. The point is, I think I can fix it and I think I can bring purity up too. I mean, I'm doing everything just like Mr. White taught me, so it's bound to get better, right?

Lydia: I appreciate you making every possible effort because, as you know, my buyers expect a certain threshold, a continuity.

Todd: Yeah, yeah, totally. About buyers. I could ask my uncle to smooth things over with them. If you want.

Lydia: I'll pass, thanks. I've put a lot of faith in your abilities, Todd. I believe in you. Please do make the cook better. It's very important to me.

*Lydia looks down at her watch*

Lydia: I've got a flight to catch.

*As Lydia walks away, Todd looks down at the cup he's holding. Lydia's lipstick is still on the cup. Todd rubs his finger against the edge of her lip print slowly. His cellphone goes off*

Todd: Hello?

Walt: Hey, it's Walt.

Todd: Hey Mr. White, how are you doin'?

Walt: I'm doin' okay. I, umm, Todd. I think I might have another job for your uncle.

Todd: Oh okay, umm, you want me to set up another meeting?

Walt: Yes, please do that.

Todd: Any heads up I should give him, like, which jail, how many targets, stuff like that? ...Mr. White?

Walt: Just one target, not currently in jail. Jesse Pinkman.

Todd: You got it.


*Todd hangs up the phone and takes a sip of the tea*

*Hank paces back and forth. A car pulls up and Gomez steps out. He walks over to Hank while staring at Jesse*

Gomez: I'm surprised you didn't strangle him. Now what? Book him? I'm sure the AUSA will have plenty to say about how to play him against Walt.

Hank: Now knowing what we know about how Walt deals with rats behind bars?

Gomez: Eh, punk has to be safer with marshals watching his back than out here where it's open season.

*Hank grunts*

Gomez: What does that mean? What are you thinkin'?

Hank: Kid's got an idea.

Gomez: What kid? That kid? Timmy Dipshit there? The one that screwed up our sting? Oh, I'm all ears.

Hank: Just, uh, hear him out.

*Hank and Gomez walk toward Hank's car. Gomez taps on the window. Jesse rolls down the window*

Gomez: Okay genius, what's the idea?

Jesse: You guys need evidence to put him away, only he's too smart to leave any out there, right?

Gomez: So you say.

Jesse: Well, I know some evidence that greedy asshole would never destroy.

Hank: His money.

Gomez: You know where he keeps his money?

Jesse: No, but I know someone who might.

*Gomez walks into Hank's house carrying a brown paper bag*

Hank: Gomie, hey, how'd it go?

Gomez: Trailed him to the dog house, picked him up there. Seemed to be looking for someone, had a lot of questions.

Hank: No calls though, right? You got his phone?

*Gomez hands Hank Huell's cell phone*

Hank: He's on ice?

Gomez: Safe house off Vurybravo. We got Van Oster sitting him.

Hank: Yeah, what about Van Oster, did he have any questions?

Gomez: Probably, but he knows better than to ask.

Hank: Good job.

Gomez: I'm gonna tell you this upfront, Hank. This guy decides that he wants to lawyer up? I don't care if you are my boss, I'm gonna put a stop to this.

Hank: He won't lawyer up.

*Hank reaches into the brown paper bag Gomez brought in and takes out a package of brains. He looks around the room and opens the package, then drops it on the floor. Jesse stands up, grossed out*

Jesse: What the hell, man?

*Hank reaches down and grabs half the brain off the ground. He then grabs the container the brains were in and pours some blood over the brains on the ground. He rearranges the brains*

Hank: You're up.

*There's a knock at the door. Van Oster gets up and opens it*

Hank: Hey, there. Wanna take it outside for a minute.

Van Oster: Yes sir, you got it.

Hank: Thanks.

*Hank and Gomez walk inside as Van Oster leaves*

Hank: Huell Babineaux. Know who I am? I'll take that as a yes. Thanks for your patience.

*Hank sits down across from Huell*

Hank: As, uh, Agent Gomez said, you're not under arrest.

Huell: Why am I here?

Hank: Well, you're here, umm, for your own protection.

Huell: How you figure that?

Hank: Well, we all know how dangerous my brother-in-law can be.

*Huell is unresponsive*

Hank: Nice poker face. Look, relax, there's not much new you can tell me about Walter White. Multiple murders, ties to white power prison gangs, ran the largest meth racket in the entire southwest. I'm not asking, you're not answering, whoop dee doo. Let's cut to the chase. We have a wire on Walt's phone. We intercepted a call between him and a certain Saul Goodman Esquire. You know, your employer. Anyway, in the call, Walt said that he was going to, quote, “Take care of one Jesse Pinkman,” unquote, and that you were next on the hit list. That's why you're here.

Huell: Bullshit. That don't make no sense.

Hank: I got the recording, I can, I can let you hear it. Your associate, Goodman's fixer, *to Gomez* what's his name?

Gomez: Some carrot-top named Patrick Kuby. Boston PD ran him out of Beantown few years back, came out here for the sunshine.

Hank: Yeah, Walt said that he was gonna do this Kuby guy the same way he does you. In fact, Kuby's already “missing." Sorry to say, things are looking grim for your red-headed buddy. Believe us, don't believe us, suit yourself. Whatever you do, I would not call Goodman. He sold you down the river big time.

Huell: The hell are you talkin' about?

Gomez: Oh, don't take it personally. Goodman's an excellent chopping block if he doesn't do what White says.

Hank: And to be fair, your circus clown of a boss did try to spare you for all of, what, about fifteen seconds before he decided to help Walt track you down. See, Goodman's got a trace on your phone, and as soon as you call him, Walt's gonna find out where you're hiding out and it's just a matter of time before you end up like this.

*Hank shows Huell his phone and on it is a picture of Jesse Pinkman lying on the ground next to the brains Hank had put there earlier*

Huell: Oh, man! Oh, man, I swear to God I ain't know he was gon' kill him, man! I ain't know he was gonna kill him! I didn't know!

Hank: Relax.

Huell: I didn't know he was gonna kill him.

Hank: If you did, you'd be in lockup for conspiracy to commit murder instead of here under our protection.

Gomez: So just tell us everything you know about White so we can get him before he gets you.

Huell: Why would he wanna kill me? I ain't do nothing to him.

Hank: Who knows with this guy. From what he said to Goodman, it may have something to do with him trying to tie up loose ends regarding him poisoning some kid named Brock. Or maybe...it's because you know where his money is.

Huell: I don't know where his money is.

Gomez: That ain't what we heard.

Huell: Well, you ain't listen to the people in the know. Me and Kuby rented a van for the dude, loaded his cash up in a self-storage unit, handed over the keys to him and Goodman, and who knows where he took it from there.

Hank: A van, huh? How much money we talkin'?

Huell: Seven barrels worth.

Hank: Seven barrels?

*Huell nods*

Hank: When you say “barrels,” you mean...barrels barrels? Like...

Huell: Barrels, man. You know, plastic, black, fifty-five gallon type. I got 'em at Home Depot. Filled up every last damn one of 'em too.

Hank: And uh, where did you rent the van?

Huell: Larriot. The one on Candlearia and Monroe?

Hank: *to Gomez* Larriot. Candlearia?

Huell: Yeah! Kuby rented the van, Mr. White dropped it off. He had us wash it good before Kuby took it back.

Hank: Wash the rental? Why?

Huell: It was filthy, man, like he'd went off-road with it. After we had hosed it down, he grabbed a shovel out the back, handed over the keys, and that was it, that's all I know.

Hank: Alright, Mr. Babineaux. Agent Gomez and I are going to do everything we can to find this son of a bitch. Meantime, like I said, you're free to go. But if I were you, I wouldn't take one step out that door.

Gomez: And remember, no phone calls.

Hank: Oh, I almost forgot. I took the liberty of removing the battery so Walt can't track you by GPS. Don't put that back in. Agent Van Oster will stay here with you, you're in good hands. He's our best man with a gun. However, don't discuss the case with him because the less you distract him, the better he can protect you.

Huell: How long you gon' be?

Hank: As long as it takes to keep you safe.

*Hank and Gomez exit while Huell sits there with a confused look on his face*

Jack: So just one guy this time? Not even in lockup? Some former partner, Todd says.

Walt: Yeah.

Jack: So what are we talking about, rat patrol?

Walt: Rat p—no, no. Rat patrol? No, no, he's not a rat. He's just...he just...won't listen to reason.

Jack: Okay.

Walt: He's just angry. *to Todd* He's not a rat.

Jack: Angry, non-rat. Got it. How angry we talkin', by the way, like, Hulk-angry, like Rambo, James Bond, badass individuals?

*Todd shakes his head while smiling*

Jack: *more seriously* Not something you'd do yourself, huh?

Walt: Jesse is like family to me. Look, I want what you do to be quick and painless. No suffering. No fear.

Jack: Bullet to the back of the head, something he doesn't see coming. I respect that. There's too many savages out there.

Walt: Let's just talk about the money.

Jack: I don't want your money. We want you to cook for us.

*Walt looks back at Todd in disbelief*

Walt: You know I'm out of the business?

Jack: Just a couple times, you're teaching my nephew here, that's all. Get him on track to bring the purity up. Get the color right too. Apparently that blue touch you put on it's all the craze to those Slavic types. So I'm told.

Walt: No. Absolutely not. Look, what was the price per head last time? I'll triple it.

Jack: It's a drop in the bucket compared to what we aim to earn from the blue stuff. Don't skimp up family, that's what I always say. You want us to do this job, do it right, that's the price.

Walt: One cook. After the job is done.

*Jack stands up and puts his hand out to shake Walt's. Walt stands up and shakes Jack's hand*

Walt: Time is of the essence, do you understand?

Jack: We could do it tonight if you want. Just tell me where he is.

Walt: I don't know where he is. But I know how to flush him out.

*Brock is sitting at the table eating breakfast while Andrea is packing his lunch*

Andrea: You want string cheese or yogurt squeezers with your PBJ?

Brock: Both.

Andrea: I didn't hear you?

Brock: Both, please.

*There's a knock at the door*

Andrea: *as she goes to answer the door* Hold on, honey.

Walt: Hi, Andrea, I don't know if you remember me. I'm Walter White? Jesse's friend?

Andrea: Oh yeah, yeah, of course, hi.

Walt: Oh hi, hi, I'm sorry to just barge in on you like this, but uh, I was hoping I could have a moment to talk with you about Jesse?

Andrea: Umm, okay sure, but I'm sort of rushing around right now, you wanna talk inside while I get my boy ready for school?

Walt: Uh, yeah, if it's okay. Thank you.

*Walt follows Andrea inside*

Andrea: You've met Brock before, right?

Walt: Yes. Yes I have, at Jesse's. *to Brock* How you doin', Brock?

*Brock looks up at Walt then back at his cereal box*


Andrea: Brock, he asked you a question.

Brock: I'm good.

Walt: Good. Fruit Loops! That's good stuff.

Andrea: So, Jesse.

Walt: I, I don't want to alarm you, but I've been trying to reach him for days. I stopped at his house, I've left all kinds of messages on his voicemail. And he won't return my calls, I can't find him anywhere. Have you heard from him?

Andrea: No, not since the last time he called to check on Brock. That was, I don't know, two weeks ago, maybe.

Walt: Andrea. Jesse's using again and I have a bad feeling about this.

Andrea: Have you tried calling the police?

*Walt looks away*

Andrea: Or umm, a better idea. Jesse's lawyer's name is Saul Goodman. I have his card somewhere, I mean, he may have ways of finding Jesse, you know, without getting him in trouble.

Walt: Better call Saul! Yeah, I did that. He was able to verify that Jesse's not locked up, but otherwise. Very little help. See, the thing is that Jesse and I had this argument recently and I, I won't bore you with the details, but uh. He's, he's-he's pretty upset with me. And umm, and I'm hoping that's the reason he hasn't called me back instead of him being...well.

Andrea: Well, I'll try him right now. If that's it, he's mad at you, maybe I'll have better luck.

Walt: That will be such a help, yes. What, umm, what-what number are you calling?

Andrea: His cell.

Walt: Oh, he recently got a new one and there. That's his new number there that's highlighted.

*Walt looks over at Brock while Andrea dials the number*

Andrea: Jesse! It's Andrea. Your friend Walter just dropped by, he's here at the house with me and Brock right now. We, umm, we're thinking of you. Call me back as soon as you get this message, okay? I really need to hear back from you. It's important.

Walt: Thank you, Andrea. I appreciate that. Well, I better, I better be going.

Andrea: Oh, you're welcome to stay a few minutes to see if he calls back.

Walt: No, no, you're trying to get your son off to school. Listen, if he does call back, would you call me? Better yet, I've got your number, I'll call you back. Okay? And thank you.

*Walt leaves the kitchen to go outside*

Walt: See you, Brock.

*Walt leaves Andrea's and crosses the street to his car. He looks down the street at another car that has two Neo-Nazis in it. He picks up his phone and calls them*

Kenny: We on?

Walt: Yes. Should be any time now.

Kenny: Copy that.

Walt: Remember. Fast and painless and take him away from here, I don't want the mother or the boy to know.

Kenny: You got it.

*Jesse's phone goes off as he gets a voicemail. Hank picks it up and listens to it. It's the message from Andrea. He hangs up the phone and starts to walk back into his house*

Hank: Nice try, asshole.

*As Hank enters, Jesse and Gomez get up*

Gomez: How'd it go at the rental place? Guy have a GPS?

Hank: No GPS. Nope. They used to have GPS until about six months ago. The ACLU or somebody sued 'em, they had to get rid of 'em.

*Hank sighs and both him and Jesse are upset about the news*

Gomez: Well, that's it. Game over.

Jesse: Yo. Hey, you can't just give up on this.

Hank: Who said we're giving up?

Gomez: What do you got?

Hank: Just thinking about what Babineaux said about the van being dirty and the shovel that Walt had with him. I bet you ten to one that he buried that money.

Gomez: No kidding. So what? There's a whole lot of desert out there, how are we gonna find the right spot? You said it yourself, there's no GPS on the van.

Hank: Yeah. Walt doesn't know that.

*Hank looks over at Jesse*

*Junior opens up the cash register at A1 Car Wash*

Junior: Alright. There's your change.

Skyler: Oh, uh, count it out, please.

Junior: Alright, three, that makes fifteen, plus five, that is twenty. Give this to your car wash professional.

Car wash woman: Thank you.

Skyler: Say it.

Junior: Have an A1 day!

Car wash woman: Oh, you too.

Skyler: Good.

Junior: Why do I, why do I gotta say that?

Skyler: Because it reinforces our brand. So, getting the hang of it?

Junior: It's pretty basic.

*Skyler sighs and smiles*

Junior: Mom, it's Saturday. Can I go?

Skyler: Go where?

Junior: Home. Pick up a few things, maybe chill for a little bit? I'm sure the smell is gone by now.

Skyler: Why don't you just stick around here for a little while longer, alright? I need you.

Saul: Hi. Who do I give this to?

Skyler: Umm, you know what? I'll take care of it. Excuse me, son. That'll be $14.97 please.

*Junior looks at Saul excitedly while Skyler takes Saul's money and uses the cash register*

Saul: *to Junior* Hey, how you doin'?

Junior: You're on our billboard. You're the lawyer guy!

Saul: Yeah, better call Saul!

*Walt quickly enters the car wash lobby holding Holly. He and Saul share an awkward look at each other*

Skyler: *clears throat* Okay. So, three makes fifteen, and twenty, twenty-five, thirty, thirty-five, forty, and ten makes fifty. Thank you.

Junior: I like your commercial. What happened to your face?

Saul: Uh, this is, uh, guess you'd call it an occupational hazard.

Skyler: Okay, so thank you, and please give that to your car wash professional.

Saul: Very good, thank you very much. *to Junior* Good to meet you. Don't drink and drive, but if you do...call me.

Junior: *laughing* Have an A1 day! *to Skyler* Mom, you forgot to say it.

Skyler: Yeah. Yeah, I did. Okay.

Saul: *to car wash guy* Make sure you get in there between the cushions, alright? That's it, way in there. Thata boy.

Walt: What the hell are you doing here?

Saul: Swear to God, the kid left so much booger powder in there, my Caddy is a K9 unit's wet dream.

Walt: Is your phone broken? All 200 of them?

Saul: Huell's gone.

Walt: Huell's gone where?

Saul: No idea, AWOL. Nobody's seen him, he's not answering his phone. So what about Jesse?

Walt: He hasn't shown up yet...he will, Saul. He's probably high as a kite somewhere and hasn't gotten our message yet.

Saul: Or he got it loud and clear and figured out it's a setup, the kid is not as dumb as you think.

*Skyler watches Walt and Saul from inside the car wash. Walt opens Saul's suit jacket*

Walt: Are you wearing a bulletproof vest?

Saul: Did you miss the part about my bodyguard has gone missing? Look, I had him watchin' the dog house figuring the kid might show up for a fix. Next thing I know, radio silence. You're the math whiz, add up two and two.

Walt: Jesse is not on some killing spree. It's me he wants. It's just me.

Saul: Well then where the hell's Huell?

*Walt goes back into the car wash*

Skyler: Any news?

Walt: Not yet, but soon. I promise.

Junior: *in background* Have an A1 day.

*Skyler walks over to Junior to continue teaching him what to do. Walt stands by the window surveying the area, holding his hand over his pocket. He looks over at his family*

Skyler: *to Junior* Ten pine-scented air fresheners. You mark ten under this column and then you subtract ten from the actual stock column, here. Okay? Why don't you try that.

*Walt gets a text message. It's an image of a barrel of money in the ground. His phone rings*

Walt: Jesse?

Jesse: Got my photo, bitch? That barrel look familiar? 'Cause I just found six more exactly like it.


*Walt rushes out of the car wash and to his car*

Jesse: That big bastard who works for Goodman? I pistol-whipped that melon he calls a head 'til he gave up what he knew, which led me to your rental van, which it turns out had GPS. How do you like that, genius? Guess you didn't think of everything.

Walt: Look. Jesse, I don't know what you plan on doing here, but-

Jesse: Well, I'll give you a hint, Walt. It involves a couple five-gallon cans of gasoline and a lighter.

Walt: Nonononononono! Jesse, please. Listen to me.

Jesse: No, you listen to me, bitch! You get your ass out here as fast as you can.

Walt: Yes. I'm coming, okay? Okay!

Jesse: And don't even think about calling anyone for help, alright? You hang up on me, put me on hold, lose my call for any reason, as soon as you do I'm burning all of it. Alright, one big bonfire. You get the picture?

Walt: I get it, I get it. Okay.

Jesse: Alright, well you better hurry, 'cause I'm burning ten grand a minute until you get here. Starting right now.

Walt: I said, I'm coming! Don't you touch my money!

Jesse: Fire in the hole, bitch! There goes ten Gs. Oh, nice orange flames.

Walt: NonononoNO!

*Walt is racing in his car to get to his money*

Walt: Jesse. Jesse, please. I'm dying. My cancer is back. You're not hurting anyone but my family. Okay? I can't spend this money. It's not for me, I won't be around long enough to use it. It belongs to my children.

Jesse: Oh, you're gonna talk about kids. You're seriously gonna go there?

Walt: I am sorry about Brock.

Jesse: No, you're not.

Walt: I am-

Jesse: You're not! But you're gonna be.

Walt: Yes, I am sorry about Brock! But he's alive, isn't he? He's fine, just as I planned it. Don't you think I knew exactly how much to give him? That I had it all measured out. Come on, don't you know me by now?

Jesse: I know you're a lying, evil scumbag. That's what I know. Manipulating people. Messing with their heads.

Walt: Open your eyes! Can't you see that I needed you on my side to kill Gus. I ran over those gang-bangers. I killed Emilio and Krazy 8. Why? I did all of those things to try to save your life as much as mine. Only you're too stupid to know it...Jesse...Jesse!...Jesse, talk to me...Jesse! Jesse, I didn't hang up. Jesse!

*Walt arrives at his money's burial ground*

Walt: Jesse? Jesse, I'm here. Where are you?!

*Walt gets out of his car and cocks his pistol. He stands up and looks around. He runs over to a bush and looks around. He looks down at his phone and hangs it up*

Walt: Son of a bitch.

*Walt takes the battery out of his phone and kicks it*

Walt: Son of a bitch!

*Walt runs over to higher ground. He coughs and sits down. He looks out at the road as an SUV approaches*

Walt: No. No...no no no!

*He climbs back down and runs to his car. He picks up his cell phone and goes to hide behind a rock in the distance. He puts his phone back together and turns it on to make a call*

Walt: Come on, come on.

*Jack's phone rings*

Jack: Yeah?

Walt: It's me. I've got Jesse in sight and he's coming for me right now. He knows I'm alone. I'm guessing he's got backup.

Jack: How many guys?

Walt: I don't know.

Jack: Where are you?

Walt: To'hajiilee. Indian reservation west of town. Get a pen.

Jack: Go.

Walt: Okay. Okay. 34-59-20 106-36-52. Those are coordinates. If you want me around to cook for you, you get here right now!

Jack: Got it.

Walt: As fast as you can. Wait. They're coming. It looks like there could be three men total…wait a minute.

Jack: What? What is it?

*The SUV stops and Hank, Gomez, and Jesse step out*

Hank: *to Jesse* Stay in the car.

Jack: Walter, what is it? Walter, you still there? Walter? Walter you got eyes on him? What do you see? Walter, talk to me!

Walt: Forget it. Don't come.

Jack: What do you mean, don't come?

Walt: It's off, do not come.

*Walt hangs the phone up. Hank, Gomez, and Jesse walk around surveying the area*

Hank: Walt! Come on out! Walt! Walt! We know you're out here! It's over! Walt! Come on out Walt!

*Hank looks around*

Hank: Got him.

*He lifts his gun. Walt walks out from behind the rock in the distance. He stands and looks over at Hank, Gomez, and Jesse*

Hank: Drop it!

*Walt drops his pistol*

Hank: Hands up!

*Walt puts his hands up*

Hank: Walk towards me slowly.

*Walt walks towards Hank. Hank makes his way towards Walt*


Hank: Stop. Turn around. Place your fingers behind your head. Walk backwards to me. Stop. Get on your knees.

*Gomez approaches Walt while Hank walks over to cuff him. Hank lifts him off the ground and turns him around. Gomez hands Hank his shotgun and pats Walt down*

Hank: How'd you like my barrel photo, huh? Took it in the backyard by the barbecue grill? You know, where we used to cookout with the family. Gomie, here, thought the dirt might not match, but me, I bet your greedy ass would be so worked up with the prospect of losing your cash that you wouldn't catch it. Looks like I was right.

Gomez: He's clean.

Jesse: Yo, I remember this place. It's the very first place we cooked, like, ever. It is. Isn't it?

Hank: Hey, let's say you save us the busywork, Walt? Point out the spot where you buried your money. No? No matter. I'll get a search team out here. We'll find it. *to Gomez* Agent Gomez. Should we flip a coin for the honors?

Gomez: No way, man, it's all yours.

Hank: Walter White. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney and have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you at the government's expense. Do you understand these rights as I just recited them to you?

Walt: *to Jesse* Coward.

*Jesse walks over to Walt and spits in his face. Walt charges at Jesse and pins him against the SUV*

Hank: Get over here! Get in the truck will ya! *to Gomez* Put him in the car!

Jesse: Come on!

Hank: Get in the car. Hurry up, get in.

Gomez: Get in the car, kid! Come on!

*Jesse gets into Walt's car*

Hank: I'll take him down for booking, okay? I think you should stay here until I come back with a search team.

Gomez: You got it.

Hank: I'd take the kid with me, but they'd probably kill each other on the way.

Gomez: Congratulations, buddy.

Hank: Hey.

*Hank shakes Gomez's hand*

Hank: I'll call the tribal police on the way out, let them know we're here. I'm gonna go make a phone call.

*Hank takes out his cell phone and makes a call. Marie opens up the garbage can and looks at the brains in disgust. Her phone rings*

Marie: Hank? Why is there what looks like brains in our garbage can?

Hank: Hey, baby. I got him. Dead to rights.

Marie: You got Walt?

Hank: Yeah. I got him handcuffed as we speak. Want me to wave to him for ya?

*Hank waves to Walt who is in the back of his SUV*

Hank: Yeah, well, he's not feelin' too friendly.

Marie: Oh my God. You did it! Thank God.

Hank: Things are gonna be a little rough the next couple of weeks, but they'll get better. Baby, you okay?

Marie: I'm much better now.

Hank: I gotta go. It may be a while before I get home. I love you.

Marie: I love you too.


*Hank hangs up the phone. Walt looks in the rearview mirror and sees a truck and a car approaching*

Gomez: Who the hell is this? Tribal police?

Walt: Hank! Hank! Hank! No.

*Todd, Jack, and the Neo-Nazis step out of the car, fully armed*

Hank: Police! Drop your weapons.

Walt: Jack! Don't do it! Jack!

Hank: Drop. Your. Weapons!

Gomez: You heard the man, put 'em down!

Jack: How do we know you're cops? Show us some ID!

Kenny: Damn straight! Let's see some badges!

Walt: Jack! Jack, don't do it! Jack! No, Jack, it's off! Jack!

Jack: We'll give ourselves up if you show us some badges! Simple as that! How 'bout it?

Walt: No! Jack! Jack! Jack! It's off! Forget it! Jack!

*Jack looks over at Kenny and he starts firing. Everyone starts shooting everyone. Walt dives down under the seat*

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