La Balance

"To fight an increasingly violent and savage crimewave,"

the judicial police creates the Territorial Brigades,

the only police units woven into the urban fabric of the crime world.

Each group has its own network of informants

without which it cannot function.

The gangs refer to the informant or rat as 'La Balance".'

- What do you say, Paulo. - How you doing?

Hey, Paulo.

- Hey there. - Am I all set?

Yeah. Don't sweat it.

- You sure? - Yeah.

Hey, here's my friend Kamel.

Say, Paulo, how are you? I need a favor.

No, I don't have anything.

Get lost. Go on, fuck off!

- How's it going, Paulo? - You got anything?

- When for? - Tomorrow.

- I'm counting on you. - No problem.

Hey there. Is Monique coming?

Yes, everything's set for midnight.

- How's the hot dog? - Good. It's gonna pour.

- It'll do us good. - You're right.

How are you, Pepe?

Still the same medicine?

I'm too old to change.

Hey, Paulo. Can you find me a TV?

I'll see.

I'm in a hurry. It's my kid's birthday.

- Give him a hug for me. - Yeah.

Paulo.

Shall we have a drink together?

Hey. How are you?

Proceed to zone three.

Repeat, proceed to zone three.

Car 482, contact the paramedics. Over and out.

Hey, you see that one over there?

She's the one who tipped us off on the Faubourg case.

Nice tits.

Look, BMW 722, '75. That looks familiar.

- That Peugeot 504, the white one. - Oh, yeah.

It's the Flea. It's Jeannot the Flea from Montreuil, isn't?

That's right. We'll have to pay him a visit one of these days.

He was supposed to tip us off six months ago and we're still waiting.

I think I'll haul her ass down to headquarters tomorrow.

What I like about working with you is that if something ever happens to you,

I can tell your wife she was literally the last thing on your mind.

Look. There's two mean-looking bastards for you.

They're customers.

Customers, my ass. They're not looking at the broads.

They're looking at their handbags.

We have further information on the Boulevard de Belleville alert.

It's another homicide.

Victim's name is Paulo Sanchez.

- Shit. It's Paulo. - Paulo?

I better let everyone know.

Palouzi and Tintin. This is BT 13 calling 584.

We read you.

Paulo Sanchez has been rubbed out.

All cars proceed to Belleville and Rue Ramponneau.

BT 13 calling 584. We're on our way.

Move along.

We're in the club.

I'm Chief Inspector Palouzi, 13th Precinct.

Calemard, Eighth Brigade, the officer on duty.

- Did you know him? - Yeah, for years.

They really meant business.

- You can say that again. - Witnesses?

- Okay, fine. - Here come Casta and Foucault.

Hey, Belge. Hey, Captain.

Captain?

Yeah, he's still nostalgic for the Algerian war.

How's it going, guys?

So Paulo had a little accident?

You could call it that, I suppose.

- He's dead. - No, just resting.

Hey, here comes homicide.

Shotgun. Forty-five slugs. The work of a pro.

Hey, Captain.

You got any idea who the killers are?

Maybe too many.

Paulo fingered six gangs in the last two years.

That's a big loss.

Yeah, he was a good rat all right. Guys like him are hard to find.

- Who do you think blew him away? - Roger of Belleville.

- I don't know who he is. - Roger Massina.

Everything in Belleville goes through him.

We know him. A real piece of work.

He's too big a fish for your brigade. He's one for the tactical squad.

Tactical doesn't give a shit about Massina.

But we do. As long as he's on the loose, he'll give us a hard time.

Here's the proof.

Captain.

- Any news? - Yeah, Rachid gave me an address.

To buy shoes at 50% off.

So tonight's not a complete loss.

Paulo is dead! Paulo is dead!

Hello, Roger.

He's not in a hurry anymore.

All we need now is a scapegoat.

Hey, Inspector. I haven't eaten since yesterday.

You'll eat better in the state pen.

How are you two fags doing?

Hey there, Meddles.

Can you fill in for me on that hooker raid?

I have to go to the dentist this afternoon.

- You got a toothache? - Yeah.

- Oh - sorry. - That's all right.

Can you get me a deal on videotapes?

Yeah, sure. The captain gets them for me.

Come and see me in the office.

Palouzi, you lost a friend last night.

That's right, Chief. Happens all the time.

Massina's gonna piss on all our graves.

Hi there, Meddles. Did you tell them all about the-

The two criminals went and ripped off-

"Ripped off"? That's not French.

Everyone says it.

Hey, Belge.

I've got the right girl for you.

Wait, listen to this.

"French girl, 23,"

beautiful and sensuous, seeking severe master,

"sturdy and athletic, boxer or policeman."

You're just right.

"Must be able to make intensive use of riding crops and whips to discipline me.

- "Possibility of living in." - Great. I'm looking for a place.

Nothing about Paulo?

- Hey, tell me. - Not a word.

All they care about is war.

As for small-time gangs...

Can't say I blame them.

- How much? - Two hundred for everything.

How are you, Nicole?

Hi, Nicole.

Hi, Sabrina. You okay?

- How about you? - All right.

- And Dédé? - He's fine.

By the way, did you know Paulo?

You comin'?

- Paulo? - Paulo Sanchez.

He was a friend of Dédé's.

Used to work for Massina.

Dédé quit two years ago, so I don't know any Paulo.

You won't be seeing him anymore. They wasted him last night in Belleville.

He was a rat.

Every time a hood gets wasted, they say he squealed.

Sure. It's the pigs from the 13th Precinct that fingered him.

- I'm really not interested in this gossip. - Okay, my dear.

Let me show you something that will interest you.

You want to?

They're beautiful. They're Cartier.

Eight hundred francs. They're real too.

I'll have to speak to Dédé.

Next week, I'll have 450 pounds of coffee and a bunch of cashmere.

You've got everything, don't you?

Just like Macy's.

Hi ho, hi ho It's off to work we go

We're going to the park We're gonna get a fuck

This one's mine.

Shit, missed. The morons are the only ones who don't recognize our cars.

Quit fucking around, will you?

I forgot you were in mourning.

If you want, I can sing the squealer's funeral march.

You didn't have to see the faces of his wife and kid last night.

Come on, you forget the faces of the guys he fingered,

not to mention their wives who visit them in the slammer.

Okay, he was dirty and rotten,

but he helped us make our best catches.

Plus, he was a nice guy.

- You really should send a wreath. - I already did.

Two hundred for sex, a hundred for a blowjob.

Sorry, I didn't recognize you.

- Sabrina around? - She's over there.

- Sabrina, how are you? - Hello.

- Can we talk in private? - Sure.

See you later.

What happened yesterday?

About a half hour after your buddies left,

those bastards came by.

The cops are never there when you need them.

Were there a lot of' em?

We only saw one, but according to Kathy,

the guy who hit her was hiding in the trunk.

- They beat her up bad? - Check it out.

She better work nights now.

Did anyone get the license plate number?

Red Renault 16. 295 DCA 75.

- Good work. - Do I get the job?

I wouldn't mind, but I'm already married.

Too bad. How about the kid?

He can't. He's gay.

By the way, aren't you investigating Paulo's murder?

Rumor has it the pigs are the ones who fingered him.

Do we look like murderers?

Do I look like a hooker?

How're we supposed to work in this mess?

For them, if you're white, you're either a cop or a junky,

and the door slams in your face.

Tell me, Meddles, where are your cowboy friends?

- They can't stomach it. - Is Belge getting married soon?