Cosmo: There's a war out there, old friend. A world war. And it's not about who's got the most bullets. It's about who controls the information. What we see and hear, how we work, what we think... it's all about the information!
Cosmo: The world isn't run by weapons anymore, or energy, or money. It's run by little ones and zeroes, little bits of data. It's all just electrons.
[each member of the team makes a request in return for the decryption chip]
Whistler: I want peace on earth and goodwill toward man.
Bernard Abbott: Oh, this is ridiculous.
Martin Bishop: He's serious.
Whistler: I want peace on earth and goodwill toward men.
Bernard Abbott: We are the United States Government! We don't do that sort of thing.
Martin Bishop: You're just gonna have to try.
Bernard Abbott: All right, I'll see what I can do.
Whistler: Thank you very much. That's all I ask.
Martin Bishop: Carl?
Carl: The, young lady with the... Uzi. Is she single?
Martin Bishop: Uh, Carl? Excuse us.
[pulls Carl aside]
Martin Bishop: This is the brass ring. Haven't you got any bigger thoughts?
Carl: I just want her telephone number. Please?
NSA Agent Mary: Wait a minute... you can have anything you want, and you're asking for my phone number?
NSA Agent Mary: 273-9164. Area code 415.
Carl: I'm Carl.
NSA Agent Mary: I'm Mary.
Bernard Abbott: I'm going to be sick!
Cosmo: There I was in prison. And one day I helped a couple of nice older gentlemen make some free telephone calls. They turned out to be, let us say, good family men.
Martin Bishop: Organized crime?
Cosmo: Hah. Don't kid yourself. It's not that organized.
Cosmo: Pollution. Crime. Drugs, poverty, disease, hunger, despair - we throw GOBS of money at them and problems only get worse. Why is that? Because money's most powerful ability is to allow bad people to continue doing bad things at the expense of those who don't have it.
Martin Bishop: I agree. Now who did you say you were working for?
Cosmo: Oh, that's just my day job.
Liz: This is my last computer date.
Cosmo: Wait. A computer matched *her* with *him*? I don't think so.
Martin Bishop: You know, I could have been in the NSA, but they found out my parents were married.
[Wallace goes after him, menacing]
Dick Gordon: National Security Agency.
Martin Bishop: Ah. You're the guys I hear breathing on the other end of my phone.
Dick Gordon: No, that's the FBI. We're not chartered for domestic surveillance.
Martin Bishop: Oh, I see. You just overthrow governments. Set up friendly dictators.
Dick Gordon: No, that's the CIA. We protect our government's communications, we try to break the other fella's codes. We're the good guys, Marty.
Martin Bishop: Gee, I can't tell you what a relief that is... Dick.
Mother: Okay, boss, this LTX-71 concealable mike is part of the same system that NASA used when they faked the Apollo Moon landings. They had the astronauts broadcast around the world from a sound stage at Norton Air Force Base in San Bernadino, California. So it worked for them, shouldn't give us too many problems.
Whistler: Fellas, Janek's little black box is on his desk between the pencil jar and the lamp.
Mother: Uh, Whistler, I hate to tell you this, but you're blind.
[asking each team member what they'll do with their share of the money]
Martin Bishop: Carl?
Carl: [helium voice] I'd like to have a deep relationship with a beautiful woman who melts from the very first time our eyes meet.
Martin Bishop: We're not getting paid that much, Carl.
Carl: Well, you know, someone like Liz.
Martin Bishop: We're definitely not getting paid that much.
Whistler: That was very good, Bish. Remind me to make you an honorary blind person.
[Martin has to walk across Cosmo's office at two inches per second to avoid triggering the motion sensors; outside, Werner arrives with Liz]
Donald Crease: [on radio] Martin? I think you'd better hurry.
Martin Bishop: [through his teeth] The one thing I *can't* do is hurry.
Cosmo: Posit: People think a bank might be financially shaky.
Martin Bishop: Consequence: People start to withdraw their money.
Cosmo: Result: Pretty soon it is financially shaky.
Martin Bishop: Conclusion: You can make banks fail.
Cosmo: Bzzt. I've already done that. Maybe you've heard about a few? Think bigger.
Martin Bishop: Stock market?
Martin Bishop: Currency market?
Martin Bishop: Commodities market?
Martin Bishop: Small countries?
Cosmo: I might even be able to crash the whole damn system. Destroy all records of ownership. Think of it, Marty: no more rich people, no more poor people, everybody's the same. Isn't that what we said we always wanted?
Martin Bishop: Cos, you haven't gone crazy on me, have you?
Mother: They've even got photos of the guy leaving the embassy, through the back service entrance. Hey, Crease, you on?
Donald Crease: Yeah, I'm on.
Mother: Were you still in C.I.A. in '72?
Donald Crease: Yeah, why?
Mother: Did you know the Deputy Director of Planning was down in Managua, Nicaragua the day before the earthquake?
Donald Crease: Now what are you saying, the C.I.A. caused the Managua earthquake?
Mother: Well, I can't prove it, but...
[during the team's surveillance of Dr. Janek, they hear his girlfriend passionately making out with him]
Carl: [instantly] Mr. Bishop, do you mind if I take a look?
Martin Bishop: Carl!
Donald Crease: [pushing Carl away] Grow up.
[taps Martin on the shoulder]
Donald Crease: [whispers] Let me see.
Bank Secretary: So, people hire you to break into their places... to make sure no one can break into their places?
Martin Bishop: It's a living.
Bank Secretary: Not a very good one.
Martin Bishop: If I come in with what I know, can you guarantee my safety?
Bernard Abbott: Do you have the item?
Martin Bishop: No.
Whistler: Fifteen seconds.
Martin Bishop: Can you guarantee my safety?
Bernard Abbott: Where is the item?
Martin Bishop: [more emphatic] Can you guarantee my safety?
Dick Gordon: Before we begin, something we need to clear up. Most firms of this kind are staffed with ex-law enforcement types, but your team, it's...
Martin Bishop: [laughs] I know, kind of different.
Buddy Wallace: Yes, you are.
Buddy Wallace: Darryl Roscow, also known as "Mother." Eighteen months at Denimmoore for breaking and entering.
Martin Bishop: Yeah, he was framed. But he's got the best hands in the business.
Buddy Wallace: [opens another file] Carl Arbogast, age 19. Caught breaking into the Oakland City School District computer to change his grades.
Martin Bishop: I know, we're the ones who caught him.
Buddy Wallace: [another file] Erwin Emory, also known as "Whistler."
Martin Bishop: Yeah, yeah, I know, he had a little trouble with the phone company...
Buddy Wallace: Sixty-two counts?
Martin Bishop: All right, you want law enforcement? What about Donald Crease? Twenty-two year veteran of the CIA.
Buddy Wallace: Terminated, 1987. Why was that?
Martin Bishop: I don't know, I think maybe a personality conflict. Who are you guys?
Dick Gordon: Relax, Marty. We have to check on these things. It's just that every member of your team has had some kind of problem in their past.
Buddy Wallace: [opens another file] Then there's Martin Bishop...
[after a tense silence, he tilts the folder, showing it is empty]
Buddy Wallace: He doesn't seem to have a past.
Carl: It's fascinating what fifty bucks will get you at the county recorder's office.
Martin Bishop: What have you got?
Carl: Playtronics Corporate Headquarters, the complete blueprints.
Martin Bishop: Not bad. Not bad, Carl.
Carl: Well, thanks.
Martin Bishop: Where'd you get the fifty bucks?
Carl: Took it from Mother's wallet.
Martin Bishop: Good.
Mother: We got bupkis! We turn ourselves in now, they'll give us twenty years in the electric chair!
Crease: Now what are you saying, the NSA killed Kennedy?
Mother: No, they shot him but they didn't kill him. He's still alive.
[Gordon tells Bishop a scientist has gotten $380,000 from Russia]
Martin Bishop: Gimme a break. We won, they lost, you know? It's been in a couple of the papers.
Donald Crease: There isn't a government on this planet that wouldn't kill us all for that thing.
Cosmo: Martin Brice - my old and good friend who promised me we would not get in trouble and who, I might add, did not.
TV Anchorman: In a surprise announcement, the Republican National Committee has revealed it is bankrupt. A spokesman for the party said they had plenty of money in their accounts last week, but today they just don't know where the money has gone. But not everybody is going begging. Amnesty International, Greenpeace and the United Negro College Fund announced record earnings this week, due mostly to large, anonymous donations.
Liz: The man who folded this tube of Crest is looking for someone meticulous, refined. Anal.
[everyone turns around]
Martin Bishop: [re-arranging Scrabble letters] SETEC ASTRONOMY... TOO MANY SECRETS.
[Crease and Mother are being held at gunpoint by two guards]
Donald Crease: Did I ever tell you why I had to leave the CIA?
Donald Crease: My temper.
[Behind the guards, Whistler throws the van into reverse. One of the guards spins around to look, and Crease grabs his shotgun and knocks out both guards]
Donald Crease: Motherfuckers mess with me, I'll split your head!
[Carl's demand is to date the young N.S.A. agent]
Martin Bishop: How 'bout a lunch? You can chaperone.
Bernard Abbott: No! I will not *do this*!
[Abbott's agents are holding back a burst of laughter]
Martin Bishop: Hey, Abby. Abby, come on now! The FBI'd give him twins.
Bernard Abbott: NO!
Donald Crease: You guys'll be chalk outlines without me.
Mother: But the key meeting took place July 3rd, 1958, when the Air Force brought the space visitor to the White House for an interview with President Eisenhower. And Ike said, "hey look, give us your technology, we'll give you all the cow lips you want."
[Mother walks into the room and triggers the motion sensor]
Donald Crease: This is what's in Cosmo's office. Best motion sensor on the market.
Mother: And watch this.
[he breathes in front of the sensor, and it goes off]
Donald Crease: Also responds to thermal differentials.
Martin Bishop: Does this have a happy ending?
Mother: Oh, yeah. We can wrap you in a full-body suit of neoprene, heat-resistant rubber. Or we can raise the temperature in Cosmo's office to 98.6 degrees - which is probably what we'll have to do, because the neoprene would suffocate you. Either way, you've got a top speed of two inches per second. Any faster than that...
Mother: and, uh, big guys with guns. But you'll probably do fine.
Martin Bishop: Since when am I the one who's...
Mother: This is the same model answering machine that Janek used for the shell of his box, now that's what you'll be carrying across the room at two inches per second. I got that for you because I figured you'd just, you know, want to practice. Remember to go real slow!
Martin Bishop: Slow.
[looks at Crease]
Donald Crease: You get all the *fun* stuff...
Cosmo: I'm sorry if he hurt you. I'm afraid Wallace doesn't like you very much.
Martin Bishop: You oughta have that guy checked for rabies.
Cosmo: Rabies occurs only in warm-blooded animals.
Dr. Gunter Janek: I'm sorry. It's just, I have this work.
Dr. Elena Rhyzkov: [pushes him down and tears open her blouse] I'll give you something to work, baby!
Dr. Gunter Janek: OK. Just for a little while.
Dr. Elena Rhyzkov: [kisses him and closes the window blinds] Oh, Gunter!
[Bishop and his team are spying on Dr. Gunter Janek]
Dr. Elena Rhyzkov: [panting and moaning] Oh! Gunter! Oh, Gunter! Let's do what we did in Mexico City! Oh, Gunter...
Martin Bishop: Huh. I didn't know you could do *that* in Mexico City.
Dr. Elena Rhyzkov: I leave message here on service but you do not call.
Whistler: Anybody want to shut down the Federal Reserve?
Liz: [Dr. Brandes is cooking for Liz] It's hot in here. Maybe I'll just open this window a little bit.
Dr. Werner Brandes: I'll join you as soon as I'm through pounding these breasts.
Cosmo: Who else is going to change the world, Marty? Greenpeace?
Cosmo: You will give me the box, right now, or I will kill you, right now.
[Mother (the conspiracy theorist) is reading a tabloid]
Mother: Cattle mutilations are up.
Donald Crease: Don't.
College-Aged Bishop: Richard Nixon's personal checking account is in here!
College-Aged Cosmo: Oh, this is a challenge. Marty, we have to find someone truly worthy to give his money to.
College-Aged Bishop: How about... the National Organization to Legalize Marijuana?
College-Aged Cosmo: Perfect!
Mother: Uh, could we maybe just go back to the "they might kill us" part?
Gregor: Uh, new title: "Cultural Attache."
Martin Bishop: Unbelievable.
Gregor: Last few years has been very confusing for people in my line of work.
Cosmo: Anyway, I couldn't have you talking to the Russians. Five years ago, yes, we could trust them not to go running to the F.B.I., or if they did we could trust the F.B.I. not to believe them, but today we can't trust anybody.
Dr. Gunter Janek: It would be a breakthrough of Gaussian proportions and allow us to acquire the solution in a dramatically more efficient manner.
Martin Bishop: How's the audio?
Whistler: Good, Mother's pretty close.
Donald Crease: He's just wearing four safety belts this time.
Martin Bishop: What, no parachute?
Crease: I can't believe we actually made it back.
Carl: I can't believe we pulled off the greatest sneak in history and can't tell anybody about it.
Mother: You know what I can't believe? I can't believe tomorrow's Thursday!
[watching the surveillance video over and over again as Janek types in his computer's password]
Dr. Elena Rhyzkov: I leave message here on service, but you do not call.
Dr. Gunter Janek: Oh, I-I'm sorry, it's just...
Mother: [stops the tape] Okay, that's definitely W-G.
Crease: Definitely not. No, that's a "V"...
Martin Bishop: [giving up] She's in the way.
Martin Bishop: Gentlemen. Your communication lines are vulnerable, your fire exits need to be monitored, your rent-a-cops are a tad undertrained... Outside of that, everything seems to be just fine. You'll be getting our full report and analysis in a few days, but first, who's got my check?
[while infiltrating Janek's office, his girlfriend enters unexpectedly; Martin grabs her, and in the van the others hear muffled screams]
Donald Crease: Who the hell is that?
Mother: Battle stations!