The Terminal

- Sir.
- Yeah.

Sir, we have a situation upstairs.
- It'll have to wait.
- No. This won't wait.

When the 9.12 from Toronto landed, they
found four prescriptions without an MPL.

They tried to take the pills away
and he went nuts.

There he is.
We think they're for his father.

Sir, sir, calm down.
Put your weapons down.

Everybody keep your weapons...
All right. We're here to help you.

We're here to help you, sir.
All right. Give me the knife.

- Where's he from?
- Russia.

The only interpreter
we got is in Newark.

- We have to get someone to talk to him.
- I have an idea, sir.

- Viktor.
I need your help.
His name is Milodragovich.
He lives near you.

He may not speak your dialect,
but I need you to translate
and help me out.

- I help you? Why?
- I don't want anybody to get hurt.

This guy's very upset.
Just calm him down
and I'll let you back in the terminal.

No. New York.
No red stamp. Green. I green.

- New York.
- OK, yes.

- You say yes?
- Yes.

- OK. OK, OK, OK.
- Stay out!

We have somebody here to talk to you.
Somebody to talk to you. Go ahead.

Stay out!
OK, tell him in order to export
medicines from this country,

he needs to have the proper form,
a Medicinal Purchase License.

OK? You understand me, Viktor?