[vaguely describing his work in Gus' secret meth lab to his rehab group] Been working a lot... It's in a laundromat, it's totally corporate... It's like rigid, all kinds of red tape, my boss is a dick, the owner, super dick. Don't know if we're ever going to meet him, everybody's scared of the dude. Place is full of dead-eyed douchebags, the hours suck, and nobody knows what's going on.
“Kafkaesque” · Season 3, Episode 9
In this episode: Jesse Pinkman (3), Walter White (2), Skyler White (1), Saul Goodman (1), Gus Fring (1), Badger (1), Skinny Pete (1)
My brother-in-law, moments before he was attacked, someone called to warn him. I believe that same person was protecting me. Those two men–the assassins–I believe I was their prime target, but that somehow they were steered away from me to my brother-in-law. Because of this intervention, I am alive, and yet, I think that this person was playing a much deeper game. He made that phone call because he wanted a shootout, not a silent assassination. In one stroke, he bloodied both sides, set the American and Mexican governments against the cartel, and cut off the supply of methamphetamine to the Southwest. If this man had his own source of product on this side of the border, he would have the market to himself. The rewards would be enormous. We're both adults. I can't pretend I don't know that person is you. I want there to be no confusion. I know I owe you my life, and more than that, I respect the strategy. In your position, I would have done the same. One issue which troubles me: I don't know what happens when our three month contract ends.
What would you like, then?
You know why I do this. I want security for my family.
Then you have it. Three million for three months, that was our agreement. Extended annually, twelve million a year. Call it fifteen. Open ended. Would that be agreeable?
Humor me here for a second. Now, you know you need to launder your money, right? Do you understand the basics of it: Placement, layering, integration?
I ain't buying no damn nail salon, so just forget it.
You want to stay out of jail, don't ya? I mean, you want to keep your money and your freedom. 'Cause I got three little letters for ya, IRS; if they can get Capone, they can get you. Hey, look. [picks up a nail polish bottle] Here's you, right? Pink—Pinkman, get it? [picks up cotton balls] Here's your cash. You're out on the town, yeah? You're partying hardy, you're knockin' boots with the chicky babes and oh, who's this? [picks up paddle] It's the taxman, and he's looking at you. Now, what does he see? He sees a young fella with a big fancy house, unlimited cash supply and no job. Now what is the conclusion the taxman makes?
I'm a drug dealer.
[buzzer sound] Wrong! Million times worse–you're a tax cheat! What do they do? They take every penny, and you go in the can [tosses nail polish into the trash] for felony tax evasion. Ouch! What was your mistake? You didn't launder your money! Now, you give me your money, okay? That's called placement. Hand me that little thing- bin. [Jesse grabs a jar of Q-Tips and hands it to Saul] This is the nail salon, right? I take your dirty money... [opens the jar and puts the cotton balls in] and I slip it into the salon's nice, clean cash flow. That's called layering. Final step: Integration. The revenues from the salon go to the owner–that's you! [empties the jar onto the armrest] Your filthy drug money has been transformed into nice, clean, taxable income, brought to you by a savvy investment in a thriving business.
So you want me to buy this place so I can pay taxes? I'm a criminal, yo.
Yeah, and if you want to stay a criminal and not become, say, a convict, then maybe you should grow up and listen to your lawyer.
Right. So you can get your five percent.
No, that's seventeen percent.
I heard you say five! You said it right in front of me.
Yeah, that was for your partner. It's privileges of seniority and all. But for you, it's the usual: Seventeen percent, and that's a bargain.
What's the point of being an outlaw when you got responsibilities?
Darth Vader had responsibilities. He was responsible for the Death Star.
True that. Two of them bitches.
[Skyler has concocted an elaborate lie involving gambling addiction to convince Marie to let her and Walt pay for Hank's medical expenses.]
How did you come up with that? I mean, where did you possibly...?
I learned from the best. Somehow, something tells me Hank is here because of you. And I'm not forgetting that.
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