Dennis Slayne:
[shouting at Burke]
Walter!
Walter Burke:
[stops in his tracks, blinded by the lights]
Well, will you look at this? Twenty seven years, I'm finally in the spotlight, huh? What do you know. What do we do now? Come get my gun? Or do you just want to hang me? Hang the traitor!
[shouts at Slayne]
Walter Burke:
You ready for that, Slayne? I hear you. "Why'd you sell us out, Burke?" I sold you out? No way!
Dennis Slayne:
[realizes what is happening]
Jesus Christ.
Walter Burke:
[raving]
Twenty seven years, neck deep in shit! Sell you out? Did I do my job? I ask you: you do your job? I hand you the target, I tell you who and where. All you got to do is act. What do you do? Do you do your job? No!
[screams]
Walter Burke:
I'm obsolete! I'm irrelevant! Me! Shame on you! You yank me home, you shove me out in the woods! Some Ivy League prick who's afraid of having dinner in DC because of street crime is judging my worth!
Dennis Slayne:
The target is Burke, I repeat, the target is Burke!
Walter Burke:
[breaks off as he sees the laser sights on his chest]
... shoving me in the fucking woods...
Dennis Slayne:
Put it down, Walter.
Walter Burke:
[stunned, to James]
They came for you.
James Clayton:
[distraught]
Yeah.
Walter Burke:
The line to the CIA was a fake. You never told them.
James Clayton:
[upset]
No, you did. Nothing is what it seems.
Dennis Slayne:
God dammit, Walter.
Walter Burke:
[smiles ruefully]
You got me, hand in the cookie jar.
[grins]
Walter Burke:
You got to give me one thing. I'm a scary judge of talent. Here goes nothing.
[cocks empty pistol]
James Clayton:
No!
Walter Burke:
Bye bye.
James Clayton:
[screams at CIA]
No bullets!
[Burke is shot dead in front of him]
