You name it, he ghosts it.
Get some sleep on the plane. You're sounding weird. "A tethered goat." I'll call you next week.
But you realize I know nothing about politics?
You voted for him, didn't you?
Adam Lang? Of course I did.
Everyone voted for him. He wasn't a politician, he was a craze.
Well, there you go.
Look, it's a new ghostwriter he needs, not another goddamn politico. He was paid $10 million for these memoirs, but rumor has it the manuscript's a crock of shit. Rhinehart's lending him his house at the ocean so they can fix it, and the pressure must have gotten to McAra. Pathologist said his blood was, like, three parts booze.
You mean he drowned by accident?
Accident, suicide, who cares? It was the book that killed him.
Well, that's encouraging. [Rick dryly chuckles] Who is this McAra? Should I have heard of him?
Yeah. He was some kind of aide to Lang when he was Prime Minister, so don't admit that you haven't. He was with him for years.
I don't know, Rick.
This is a great opportunity for you. Plus the money is good. Kids won't starve.
I don't have any kids.
I do.
You know, you got some mouth on you?
I seen... I've seen real bravery, kid, in my day. But that, that... That was something else.
Frank, what are you doing here?!
What do you think I'm doing?! I'm saving your ass!
This is way above your paygrade, dude! WE'RE FIGHTING THE HULK!
OH, SHIT!
What happened happened, what's going to happen is going to happen. Sitting here playing house with a couple of bitch Krauts ain't gonna change a **** thing.
Best job I ever had!
Damn son, you're a fighting, ****, drinking machine!
James Bond does not drive a Ford, sir.
That's because he's a degenerate.
'Only one small question. It concerns my race program. If I wish to race Le Mans, and you do not wish for me to race Le Mans... do we or do we not go?'
Look, in that highly unlikely scenario... if, uh, we just can't agree... then, yes. I mean, no. You are correct. You do not go.
'My integrity as a constructor, as a man, as an Italian, is deeply insulted by your proposal.'
'Go back to Michigan. Back to your big, ugly factory. Back to your big, ugly factory, making its ugly, little cars.'
'Tell your pigheaded boss that all his, uh, smug executives are worthless sons of whores.'
Tell him he's not Henry Ford. He's Henry Ford II.
I'm starving. Let's go eat.
He played us. Old Man Enzo had no intention of selling to us. He used us to up his price, embarrass our company and insult your leadership. It was a bad idea from the start.
What exactly did he say?
He said Ford makes ugly little cars, and we make 'em... in an ugly factory. He said our executives are sons of whores.
About me.
He called you fat, sir. Pigheaded.
Go on.
He said you're not Henry Ford. You're Henry Ford II.
I want the best engineers. The best drivers. I don't care what it costs. We're gonna build a race car...
And we're gonna bury that goddamn greasy wop 100 feet deep under the finish line at Le Mans. And I will be there to watch it.
Perhaps you've heard of Helen? Face that launched a thousand ships. Maybe now just five hundred.




