Faulk ‘N Schette: Buddy Cops – Episode 208
They’re cops. They’re buddies. They’re buddy cops. This is their story.
Episode 208 – Letter Of The Law
Sergei: “Wolf thought to himself, what tender young creature. What nice plump mouthful…”
(A grizzled Russian Mob henchman pets Bernadette’s belly and smiles up at her…)
Sergei: Should I continue, miss lady?
Bernadette: Thank you, Sergei. But I don’t think he can hear you in there.
Sergei: I love Little Red Ride Hood. Is good lesson on girl eaten by wolf.
Mary: I don’t think the wolf actually eats the girl.
Sergei: It does when my grandmother tell. Girl-eating wolves is big problem in my village.
Mary: Do you think you could loosen these ropes, Sergei? Please?
Sergei: Oh no. I’m sorry, miss lady. Rublov kill me if I let you go. Now please, let me finish children’s story. We’re getting to good part with entrails and bone gristle.
(Det. Harry Schette’s car screeches into Rublov Tire Supply and the detectives burst into the garage where manager Petrov Gchev is bent over an old Civic…)
Schette: (grabbing Gchev by the collar and shoving him into the engine block) Where are they, Petrov? Where are they?!
Gchev: What is this? Why do you hurt me so?
Faulk: Our wives, Petrov. Rublov has our wives. Where did he take them?
Gchev: I know of no such thing. Please!
Schette: Oh, you Russians are all the same. You don’t know nothin’ about nothin’!
Gchev: If I knew, I would tell you. Andrei has been going off the rails. I was afraid he would do something drastic like this.
Faulk: If your boss was holding a high-value hostage, where would he take them?
Gchev: I don’t know!
Schette: You don’t wanna test me, Petrov. I once shot a German documentary filmmaker in cold blood, because he caught us in a hit and run with a lady’s car. Forty dollars in damage. Forty dollars! And I shot him dead. In retrospect, it was a bit of an overreaction; but whatever. You don’t wanna know what I’m capable of!
Gchev: I think you just told me.
Faulk: You have to stop telling people about that, man.
Schette: I know.
Gchev: Look. Rublov wrote the information down for me. Let me go to my office and get you the address.
(Petrov leaves and the detectives stand by the car, waiting…)
Schette: Civic, huh?
Schette: I hear they get good mileage.
Faulk: Yeah, I’ve heard that too.
Schette: He’s not coming back, is he?
Faulk: No, I don’t think so.
(The detectives head back to the manager’s office and see the curtains blowing out the back window…)
Schette: (elbows Ricky with a grin) I guess he was in a rush….in.
(Andrei Rublov enters the warehouse after getting off the phone with Petrov and smiles at the bound women, puffing on a big Russian cigar…)
Rublov: Hello, pretty ladies.
Bernadette: Are you gonna kill us?
Rublov: Oh no no no, dear. Nobody is going to die today. I am merely sending a message.
Mary: And what message would that be?
Rublov: That Andrei Rublov is not one to be screwed around with. Your husbands have gotten it in their heads that they are great American heroes. This is not true. They are crooks, just like me. This is merely friendly reminder.
Bernadette: And what if they don’t cooperate?
Rublov: Oh well then, of course, we will kill you.
(Harry and Ricky are driving back to Central Division…)
Schette: Can’t believe he had to kidnap our wives on Thanksgiving weekend. I’ve got a ten-pound bird in the fridge. I don’t know how to cook that thing!
Faulk: (staring out the window) Also he might kill our wives.
Schette: Yeah, that too!
Faulk: We really need Chief Galarraga on this one. He’s got a history with Rublov. He’d know where Mary & Bernadette are being kept.
Schette: Yeah, but he’s all imprisoned and stuff.
Faulk: I might know how to get him out of there.
Schette: And stuffing? How the hell do you cook that? What aisle is that in?
(In Chief Galarraga/MI-5 Agent Faulkland’s office…)
Faulkland: Let me get this straight, Rublov has demanded the release of Chief Galarraga in exchange for your wives’ lives. What on earth would he want with the Chief?
Schette: (shrugs) I dunno. Probably wants to kill him. So we’ll pop on by the prison, pick him up and head over to the drop point.
Faulkland: You’ll do no such thing.
Faulk: I think what my partner is trying to say is that the Chief will be in no immediate danger. We’ll have eyes on him at all times. We’ll get our wives to safety and then retrieve the Chief and everyone will be healthy and happy.
Faulkland: Not a chance. In fact, I don’t even know why I’ve let you two go on like this at all. You’re too close to this case. You used to work for this Russian and he’s using your loved ones as collateral. I’m pulling you off this effective immediately.
Faulk: Agent Faulkland, you can’t do that. We’ve been on this guy from the beginning; we know him. Our wives are in danger.
Faulkland: I’ll put my best MI-5 agents on it. You have nothing to worry about.
Schette: Aw, the British? Do you guys even have guns? ‘Cause they have guns!
Faulkland: I suggest you both go home and get some rest. I’ll keep you abreast of the situation.
Schette: (thrusts a finger in Agent Faulkland’s face) If I wasn’t so distraught over the plight of my beloved, I would totally laugh at that British word you just used that sounds like what boobs are.
(At Los Angeles County Jail, Harry and Ricky pull up to the loading docks in repairmen uniforms. A guard greets them at the back door…)
Guard: Can I help you gentlemen?
Schette: Yeah, we’re here about a broken A/C unit.
Faulk: If you can just let us in, we’ll take a look at it and be out of your hair.
Guard: Haven’t heard any complaints about an A/C unit. Besides, it’s November.
Faulk: We’re more concerned about air circulation. Don’t want the air to get stagnant in there. All your prisoners will get sick.
Guard: Who are you guys with?
(Harry takes a lug wrench out of his tool belt and smashes a pipe on the wall. Hot steam comes spilling out…)
Schette: Whoa, that doesn’t look good!
Guard: (cocking his gun) What the hell!
Faulk: (draws his pistol on the guard) Easy there, partner.
Schette: (draws his gun, turns to Ricky) Ooh! Like cowboys say!
Guard: (hands shaking) You guys aren’t repairmen!
Schette: Nope. But you’re definitely gonna need some now; ’cause I think that was a pretty important pipe I just smashed…ya varmint.
Faulk: Gun on the ground.
(The guard sets his gun down and they handcuff him to an intact pipe. Another guard comes out to see the commotion and Ricky bonks him over the head…)
Schette: (rubs his hands together) Alright. Let’s strip these boys down.
(Harry, now in a prison security guard uniform, knocks on the holding cell and Armando Galarraga looks up…)
Chief: Oh my God.
Schette: (snickering) Let’s go, cowpoke. We’re takin’ you out to the corral for an old-fashioned hog-tyin’.
Faulk: Harry, enough with the cowboy talk.
Schette: You started it.
Chief: Faulk and Schette, what are you guys doin’ here?
Schette: No names, Chief. We’re just simple guards transferring you out of here. (winks)
Faulk: (leans in close) Rublov is holding our wives somewhere. You were on this guy before we even got out here. We thought we’d break you out, ’cause you knew where they were at.
Chief: It’s Warehouse 14 out at the port. They use it for Rublov’s import/export business. You coulda just come here and ask me, instead of breaking in.
Faulk: Agent Faulkland took us off the case. This is the only way we could get to you.
Chief: Well, you got the info. No need to take me with you. I’ll be outta here soon enough. Go get your wives back.
Schette: Well, I mean we came all the way here. And it was a pretty good frame-up job. They got your prints on the weapon and everything. Let’s just get you out of here and send you back to Mexico.
Chief: I’m from El Salvador, you idiot.
Schette: For real? You mean I’ve been making Mexican jokes all this time, when I coulda been making Salvadorean jokes? Like, “Hey, is that Civil War still going on?”
Chief: That’s not even a joke.
Schette: You’re right, that’s more observational humor.
Chief: Get outta here.
Faulk: We’ll come back for you, Chief.
(The detectives turn to leave…)
Schette: Probably better. We’ll be able to move faster without draggin’ his old bag of bones around.
(Harry and Ricky turn the corner and a SWAT team has their guns drawn…)
Schette: (throwing his hands up) Aww, I’m missing Thanksgiving for this!