Threat

J. Paul Getty: 

Morning, Chase.

[Getty walks around a covered table] 

J. Paul Getty: 

Will you, uh, help me with this?

[Getty and Chase uncover the table to reveal a model mansion] 

J. Paul Getty: 

I'm, uh, building a house in California. 

An exact replica of 

my imperial villa in Rome, 

down to the very last detail. 

But with flush toilets. 

Yes, The Mountain may not 

have come to Muhammad, 

but it sure as hell came to me.

Nancy Getty's Secretary: 

Mr. Getty. The West Texas Intermediate, sir.

[secretary hands stock number strip to Getty] 

Fletcher Chase: 

What's it feel like, 

reading that slip of paper?

J. Paul Getty: 

Well, for a moment, 

Money loses all meaning 

and becomes as plentiful as air. 

Like flight. And then, it passes.

[Getty crumples the strip and throws it away] 

J. Paul Getty: 

What's, uh, all this I see on TV 

with Gail 

paying The Ransom in full? 

We both know she doesn't have it.

Fletcher Chase: 

The Lady's made 

other arrangements.

J. Paul Getty: 

But she doesn't have The Money.

 So, uh, what's going on? Come on. 

Where did she get it? 

Is she fucking somebody?

[pause] 

Fletcher Chase: 

You know, I think I'm finally beginning 

to understand what makes you tick.

J. Paul Getty: 

No, no, you couldn't begin to. 

So, spill it. What's going on?

 What's Her Game? 

Don't forget, Chase, 

I have a contract. 

And I'll enforce it.

Fletcher Chase: 

No, I Don't Think So.

J. Paul Getty: 

Oh? Why not?

Fletcher Chase: 

Can you hear me? 

I want to make sure that I'm very clear. 

Because whatever 

Personal Security 

you presently enjoy 

comes from me. Alright? 

Those Alsatians limping around the pool? 

My People trained them. 

Your Security System? 

My People installed it. 

The Bodyguards? 

That's right, you rapacious old fuck,

 You are Protected from 

every threat imaginable, 

unless that threat 

happens to be me.

J. Paul Getty: 

I suppose this is your way of submitting your resignation.

Fletcher Chase: 

Hey!

[Chase grabs Getty by the arm] 

Fletcher Chase: 

'Men of risk'? Isn't that what you called us? 

'I risk my money, you risk your life.' 

You're so full of shit. You and Me? 

We never risked a thing in our lives. 

We never took the chances ordinary people take. 

That's why we are 

What We Are Now. 

You're just cheap, Paul. 

You could have 

All The Money in The World, 

and you are still a no-good, miserable son of a bitch, 

and don't you forget it. 

Goodbye, Mr. Getty.

[Chase begins to walk away] 

J. Paul Getty: 

Those children are My Blood, Chase!

[Chase waves at him on his way out] 

J. Paul Getty: 

They're mine.

[Getty grabs the paper strip and throws it in the fireplace]

J. Paul Getty: 

She took them.