Hans Gruber: Touching, Cowboy, touching. Or should I call you, Mr. McClane? Mr. Officer John McClane of the New York Police Department? Richard Thornburg: Get on the phone to Harry in New York. Come on, baby, move, move. Thornburg's Assistant: Got it. Sergeant Al Powell: Better get a hold of somebody in dispatch. John McClane: Sister Teresa called me Mr. McClane in the third grade. My friends call me John, and you're neither, shit-head. Hans Gruber: I have someone who wants to talk to you; a very special friend who was with you at the party tonight. Harry Ellis: Hey, John boy. John McClane: Ellis? Harry Ellis: Yeah. Now listen, John, they're giving me a few minutes to try to talk some sense into you. I know you think you're doing your job, John, and I can appreciate that, but, you're just dragging this thing out. Now look, no one gets outta here until these guys can talk to the LA police, and that just ain't gonna happen until you stop messin' up the works, capisci? John McClane: Ellis, what have you told them? Harry Ellis: I told 'em we were old friends and you were my guest at the party. John McClane: Ellis, you shouldn't be doin' this. Harry Ellis: Tell me about it. Alright, John, listen. They want you to tell them where the detonators are. They know people are listening. They want the detonators or they're gonna kill me. John, didn't you hear me? John McClane: Yeah, I hear you. Harry Ellis: Hey, John, I think you can get with the program a little, huh? The police are here now, it's their problem. Now tell these guys where the detonators are so no one else gets hurt, you know I'm putting my life on the line for you, pal. John McClane: Ellis, listen to me very carefully. Harry Ellis: John? John McClane: Shut up Ellis, just shut your mouth! Put Hans back on the line. Hans, this shit-head does not know what kind of man you are, but I do. Listen to me! Hans Gruber: Good. Then, you'll give us what we want and save your friend's life. You're not part of this equation this time, you realize that. Harry Ellis: Hey, what am I, a method actor? Hans, babe, put away the gun, this is radio, not television. John McClane: Hans, this asshole is not my friend, I just met him tonight, I don't know him. Jesus Christ, Ellis these people are gonna kill you, tell them, you don't know me. Harry Ellis: John, how can you say that after all these years, huh? John? John? Hans Gruber: You hear that? Talk to me, where are my detonators? Where are they, or shall I shoot another one? Sooner or later, I might get to someone you do care about! John McClane: Go fuck yourself, Hans.
Harry's gotten in over his head, Gruber kills him. John sits, blank expression, distraught.