Fatal Instinct

What are you saying?
We're going to kill
the son of a bitch...

and I know exactly how.
He has a legal symposium
this weekend in Santa Barbara.

All we have to do is get him
to take the train up.

How will we do that? Didn't you
tell me he hates trains?

That's where you
come in, baby.

You're going to rig his car
so it doesn't work.

That should be
no problem for you.

First, we give him a lift
to the train station...

through Dealey Plaza,
past the book suppository...

and around the grassy knoll.
Isn't that out of our way?
Stay with me.
Get out of the way.
Here's the plan.
Ten minutes
out of the station...

he'll be standing in the
vestibule between the cars...

trying to avoid
a panic attack.

Fourteen minutes
and ten seconds out...

the train crosses
the Santa Ynez river.

So, at thirteen minutes
and fifty-four seconds...

I shoot him,
shove him out the door...

he hits the river
and drowns.

Triple play.
We're rich.
You've been thinking about this
a long time, haven't you?

No. It just came to me.
I had this image
of a big, powerful...

throbbing train...
Plunging into
a long, dark tunnel.