— Hey, Roy, how you feeling?
— Pretty fucking unappreciated, Al.
— Going in? That's crazy! There could be over 30 hostages in there for all we know.
— We don't know shit, Powell. If there's hostages, how come there are no ransom demands? If there's terrorists in there, where's their list of demands? All we know is that
somebody shot your car up. It's probably the same silly son of a bitch you've been talking to on that radio.
— Excuse me, sir... but what about the body that fell out the window?
— Who the hell knows? Maybe a stockbroker got depressed.
— Powell, has it occurred to you he could be one of the terrorists or some nutcase in there?
— I don't think so. In fact, I think he's a cop... maybe not LAPD, but he's definitely a badge.
— How do you know that?
— A hunch... things he said like being able to spot a phoney ID.
— Jesus Christ, Powell! He could be a bartender for all we know!