Fargo

Varga: That's right.

Just a few more.

We're nearly done here.

Police.

Oh, hello, who have I reached?

Meeker county sheriff's.

I'm looking for Gloria burgle.

-Speaking. -My name is larue dollard.

I work for the internal revenue service.

I am in receipt of the documents you sent.

But I have a few questions.

Who is this?

Agent dollard. IRS.

The envelope you sent was addressed to me specifically.

You included a note.

IRS? I never sent anything to...

Well, it has your name on it.

Look, this is my last day, so...

Are you working a case involving emmit stussy or stussy lots ltd?

How did you get this number?

Again, it was on the note you sent.

Spreadsheets, uh, contracts, loan agreements.

Not sure how you found me.

He's protected, I think, Mr. stussy,

possibly even at the highest levels.

My investigation was kiboshed last year from DC,

so, we should proceed with the utmost...

Look, Mr. dollard. I don't know what to tell you.

We did have a case involving Mr. stussy but...

Well, that case is closed now.

Deputy, I'm looking at evidence of a vast financial conspiracy

involving blatant tax fraud

and the repurposing of corporate funds for personal gains.

It looks like, in the last year,

Mr. stussy has borrowed upwards of $200 million

with the sole intent of lining his pockets

and the pockets of his partners, a Mr. sy feltz

and one v.M. Varga.

Say that name again.

Uh, v.M. Varga?

I'm not sure what the "v.M." Stands for.

Don't move. I'll be right there.

Oh, wait. What's your address?

Two hearts,

three clubs, four spades,

five no trump.

Varga: Last one.

There.

Well...

You should be happy, Mr. stussy.

Your first action item is complete.

The accumulation of wealth.

I'm just so tired.

Varga: It's perfectly natural.

You see it all the time in the wild.

The smaller animal going limp in the jaws of the larger.

Genetic instinct.

At some level, food knows it's food.

Yes.

Oh...

The strategist. I was wondering when you might call.

Yes, I have it.

All of it, as long as you live up to your end of the...

Fine.

The same charming locale?

No, I'm not familiar with that address but I'm sure I can find it.

Just so you know,

I will be coming with what in military terms

is referred to as a "fire team" so no business...

Back up. Back up!

My dear, I'm afraid you'll have to excuse me.

Emmit: Don't... don't make me. I'll shoot.

I am not food.

No, of course not.

You lied to me.

There are no hordes coming. No mongrel hordes.

It's you! No!

Now, now, now. No.

Now, come on.

Give Mr. stussy some room.

He's earned the right to be testy.

After everything he's been through.

I'm done.

Give me back my papers and get out!

Are you a fan of progress, Mr. stussy?

-Technology? -No more talking.

You know, in the old days, only the strong were rich.

It was all a question of how much you could carry.

But then the medicis invented banks,

and wealth and pornography.

This is what drives innovation.

Of course, technology has other benefits as well.

Safety, for example, a safer car, the artificial heart.

And, well, how a handgun might be equipped

with a fingerprint scanner.

To keep it from being used by anyone but its owner.

That's right.

You can feel it, can't you?

On the grip.

Go on, have a look.

I'll wait.

Progress in all things, you see.

All right, wipe everything.

We were never here.

-She called? -Yeah, we have a stop to make.

This is a mistake.

No trace, I'm afraid.

We need those drives.

Vamanos.

Swango.

Swango.

-I'll go. -No.

El nino?

Two elevators.

It's yours.

What the shit?

Excuse me.

This is not... You can't just...

Thank you so much. Emmit, my dear emmit.

How are you?

You look...

Well, I know this can't be easy for you.

You work for varga.

All this time.

Like a fire door that leads to another fire.

Emmit, you need to listen to me very carefully.

The stussy corporation, having sold all its assets this morning to realignment

for $100,000, and may I say, very generous of you,

but your company is now carrying a debt load of over three hundred million.

You'll need to file for chapter 11 immediately.

But don't worry.

Your personal wealth,

the profits you've made as a partner in this venture,

have all been carefully hidden. So...

Not all bad.

Mike and Mike will show you out.

Gloria: And you're saying this proves...

Until 18 months ago, stussy lots was a traditional real estate concern.

They owned two dozen parcels around Minnesota,

ground and elevated lots.

They charged a standard fee for parking,

monthly rates and hourly meters.

Then the books show a million dollar loan

from this company called narwhal.

As far as I can tell, the corporate ID number is fake.

So, four months ago,

new incorporation papers were filed with the city,

adding v.M. Varga as a partner at stussy lots.

British fella? About six foot?

Country of origin isn't listed on the form.

But that sounds like the man that I met.

So, are we talking about money laundering or...

That's what I thought at first, but no.

This is something different.

It's more of a leveraged buyout or bleed out,

in which an outside entity acquires a healthy company,

borrows millions of dollars in its name,

which is pocketed by the partners.

Then they sell the company,

now laden with debt, for a fraction of the price.

And that's a crime?

Not when it's done properly. No.

What's that?

I was saying, morality aside,

one company buying another and strip-mining it for profit

is perfectly legal as long as one follows the letter of the law

and pays the appropriate taxes.

-Which they didn't. -Correct.

There is evidence that every dime borrowed by stussy lots

in the past four months was funneled into

dozens of off-shore accounts in the name of all three partners.

-Mr. stussy, Mr. feltz... -And this v.M. Varga.

-Who blew in on the wind last year. -That's how it looks.

Uh...

Oh.

Bur...

Burgle.

What?

Winnie: We got five bodies on the third floor.

Gunfire in both directions. Just straight up carnage.

Chief's thinking an ambush scenario.

Gloria: Ambush by who?

Don't know him. But you're gonna recognize the next one.

Told you.

Wait till you see who we think the target was.

-It was her. -What was?

Who sent the note to the IRS.

Connecting the dots, Nikki swango.

-Why would she? -They killed her man.

You need to issue a bolo.

What are you gonna do?

Someone's gotta warn emmit.

What now?

Oh, shit.

Shit!

Fucking...

Fuck.

Oh, jeez. Oh, jeez.

Are you as low as you can go?

Emmit: What?