Touching, Cowboy, touching. Or should I call you, Mr. McClane? Mr. Officer John McClane of...

Hans Gruber: Touching, Cowboy, touching. Or should I call you, Mr. McClane? Mr. Officer John McClane of the New York Police Department? Richard Thornburg: Get on the phone to Harry in New York. Come on, baby, move, move. Thornburg's Assistant: Got it. Sergeant Al Powell: Better get a hold of somebody in dispatch. John McClane: Sister Teresa called me Mr. McClane in the third grade. My friends call me John, and you're neither, shit-head. Hans Gruber: I have someone who wants to talk to you; a very special friend who was with you at the party tonight. Harry Ellis: [Hans hands him the walkie talkie] Hey, John boy. John McClane: Ellis? Harry Ellis: Yeah. Now listen, John, they're giving me a few minutes to try to talk some sense into you. I know you think you're doing your job, John, and I can appreciate that, but, you're just dragging this thing out. Now look, no one gets outta here until these guys can talk to the *LA* police, and that just ain't gonna happen until you stop messin' up the works, capisci? John McClane: Ellis, what have you told them? Harry Ellis: I told 'em we were old friends and you were my guest at the party. John McClane: Ellis, you shouldn't be doin' this. Harry Ellis: Tell me about it. Alright, John, listen. They want you to tell them where the detonators are. They know people are listening. They want the detonators or they're gonna kill me. [pause] Harry Ellis: John, didn't you hear me? John McClane: Yeah, I hear you. Harry Ellis: Hey, John, I think you can get with the program a little, huh? The police are here now, it's their problem. Now tell these guys where the detonators are so no one else gets hurt, you know I'm putting my life on the line for you, pal. John McClane: Ellis, listen to me very carefully. Harry Ellis: John? John McClane: Shut up Ellis, just shut your mouth! Put Hans back on the line. [Ellis holds the walkie talkie up] John McClane: Hans, this shit-head does not know what kind of man you are, but I do. Listen to me! Hans Gruber: Good. Then, you'll give us what we want and save your friend's life. You're not part of this equation this time, you realize that. [presents his gun] Harry Ellis: Hey, what am I, a method actor? Hans, babe, put away the gun, this is radio, not television. John McClane: [nervously yelling] Hans, this asshole is not my friend, I just met him tonight, I don't know him. Jesus Christ, Ellis these people are gonna kill you, tell them, you don't know me. Harry Ellis: John, how can you say that after all these years, huh? John? [gets no response] Harry Ellis: John? [still gets no response, then laughs slightly, then Hans shoots him in the head] Hans Gruber: [he puts the walkie talkie up to the screaming crowd, then yells into the walkie talkie] You hear that? Talk to me, where are my detonators? Where are they, or shall I shoot another one? Sooner or later, I might get to someone you *do* care about! John McClane: Go fuck yourself, Hans.

Touching, cowboy. Touching. Or should I call you... Mr. McClane.? Mr. OfficerJohn McClane... of the New York Police Department? - Get on the phone to Harry in New York. Come on, baby. Move.! - Got it. Better get a hold of somebody at dispatch. Sister Theresa called me Mr. McClane in the third grade, my friends call me John, and you're neither, shithead. I have someone who wants to talk to you- A very special friend... who was with you at the party tonight. Hey, John boy. Ellis? Yeah. Now, listen, John. They're giving me a few minutes... to try to talk some sense into you. I know you think you're doin' your job, but you're just draggin' this thing out. No one gets out of here until these guys can talk... to the L.A. police, and that just ain't gonna happen... till you stop messing up the works, capisci? Ellis, what have you told them? I told them we were old friends, and you were my guest. You shouldn't be doing this. Tell me about it. All right, John, listen. They want you to tell them where the detonators are. They know people are listening. They want the detonators, or they're going to kill me. John, didn't you hear me? Yeah, I hear you. John, get with the program. Tell these guys... where the detonators are... so no one else gets hurt! I'm putting my life on the line, pal! Ellis, listen to me carefully. John- Shut up, Ellis! Just shut your mouth! Put Hans back on! Hans, this shithead doesn't know you, but I do- Good. Then you'll give us what we want. You're not part of this equation. What am I, a method actor? Put away the gun. This is radio, not television. Hans, he's not my friend! I don't know him! Jesus, Ellis! They'll kill you! Tell them you don't know me! How can you say that after all these years? John? John? Do you hear that? Talk to me! Where are my detonators? Where are they, or shall I shoot another one? Sooner or later, I'll get to someone you care about. Go fuck yourself, Hans. Did you hear that? He just let the guy die, man. Man, can't you see what's happening? Can't you read between the lines? He did everything he could... to save him. If he gave up, they'd both be dead! No. They'd be talking to us. You tell your partner to stay out of this. If he doesn't, I'm going to nail his ass. The man is hurting. He is alone, tired, and he hasn't seen diddly-squat... from anybody here! You think he'll give a damn... about what you do if he makes it? Wake up and smell what you shoveling. Anytime you want to go home, you consider yourself dismissed. No, sir. You couldn't drag me away. Attention, police. Attention, police. This is Sergeant Al Powell- This is deputy chief Dwayne Robinson. Who is this? This is Hans Gruber. I assume you realize the futility of direct action. We have no wish for further loss of life. Well, what is it you do wish for? I have comrades around the world... languishing in prison. The American State Department... enjoys rattling its saber for itself. Now it can rattle it for me. The following are to be released from their captors- The seven members of the New Provo Front, in Canada, the five imprisoned leaders of Liberté du Quebec, in Sri Lanka, the nine members of the Asian Dawn. What the fuck? I read about them in Time magazine. When these revolutionary brothers and sisters are free, the hostages will be taken to the roof... and will accompany us in helicopters... to the Los Angeles International Airport... where they'll be given further instructions. You have two hours to comply. Wait a minute, Mr. Gruber. This is crazy. I don't have the authority. Two hours is not enough. Hello? Hello! Did you get all that? We got to make some calls. Do you think they'll try? Who cares? Theo, are we on schedule? One more. Then it's up to you. This one will take a miracle. It's Christmas, Theo. It's the time of miracles, so be of good cheer. Call me when you hit the last lock. Hunt that little shit down and get those detonators. Fritz is checking the explosives. I'll check the explosives. Hey, Powell, you out there? I'm here, John. I'm here. Believe me, there was nothing I could do.