Guard the House! Page #7

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I think I have, yeah.

Are the lights growing dim?

- Don't mock me.

- It's good enough for ye.

There were so many...

There were so many things...

I wanted to do.

Like what, for f***'s sake?

Running with the bulls at Pamplona?

Special Agent Wendell Everett.

- It's Gerry Boyle, Wendell.

- Hey, Sergeant, what's up?

- Where are ye?

- I'm almost into Galway now.

You gotta get back. They're landing

at Spiddal tonight. Cork is a decoy.

Look, I know that you've had a lot

of fun batting around the American.

No, it's not a joke.

I'm after running into O'Leary.

- You ran into O'Leary?

- Well, he ran into me. I shot him.

- You shot him?

- In self-defence.

- Is he dead?

- Hang on.

- He is now, yeah.

- No.

No, it can't be right. It's Cork.

They're coming into Cork.

Well, you know best. I'll see ya.

Idiot.

- He's dead?

- Yeah, I'm pretty sure of it.

- Did he kill himself?

- No.

- He was murdered.

- He was murdered?

Yeah, they shot him, I think,

and threw him into the sea.

I finished off

one of the lads that did it.

I have to go down now

and sort out the others.

- What are you talking about?

- No, I just... I just wanted to say

I'm sorry I didn't get to know you

better. You're a lovely woman.

See ya.

Gerry?

Gerry!

He's taking his time,

for f***'s sake.

Yeah. Thought he'd got over

his predilection for torture.

I'm not sure you ever get over

something like that.

- How do you mean?

- It's not like it's a hobby, is it?

It's more of a psychological hang-up.

I suppose.

God, those hookers'll be

the death of me.

Don't f***in' drop any of those.

Where the f***

did you find those three?

Oh, I put an ad in the paper saying,

"Henchmen wanted".

- What did I tell you?

- I'm here, aren't I?

Good man yourself.

- OK, I called for backup. So...

- Why?

Why? Cos if we don't have backup

we're both gonna die, that's why.

Nobody will come.

It's just you and me.

- What the hell are you talking about?

- You know what I'm talking about.

But they wouldn't just...

I mean, they're not just gonna...

Half a billion, Wendell.

That's half a billion.

It's just you and me.

- Sh*t.

- That's right.

I suppose that's what accounts

for this monstrosity right here.

- That's for you.

- What?

Come on, you can't shoot

a Kalashnikov in the middle of Ireland.

Be an international f***ing incident.

You have to. I'll need covering fire.

Covering fire for what?

I'm going to arrest those lads

for the murders of James McCormick

and Aidan McBride

and on the lesser charge

of smuggling cocaine.

- Yes, Wendell?

- Point I'd like to make.

It's f***ing suicide.

I know. Even if I get away with it,

the big boys'll be after me.

I'll have no f***in' peace.

It's all right for you. You can go

to the States. Where can I go?

That's the trouble with the Irish,

Wendell. They never forget.

But I'm still going to go down there,

anyways.

Now, I know what you're thinking.

You're thinking, those men

are armed and dangerous.

You being an FBI agent,

you're more used to shooting

at unarmed women and children.

F*** you, Sergeant!

Are you gonna help me or not?

- Have you ever been shot before?

- Yeah.

Does it hurt?

Does it hu...?

No, it doesn't hurt! It's kind...

Yeah, it hurts!

What the f*** do you think?

You got any more ammo

for this thing or what?

They say that the shock

counteracts the pain.

- Who are "they"?

- I don't know. I'm just saying.

It hurts, all right?

It f***in' hurts like hell, man.

- Oh, sh*t.

- That's right.

Right.

How many times have you been shot?

- Three times.

- Three times? Jesus.

You must be getting used to it

by now, then, huh?

- Anybody you want me to call if you...

- Nah. I don't have anybody.

Just pin a medal to me body, like

those lads coming home from Iraq.

- F*** you again, Sergeant.

- Thanks for coming to help, Wendell.

I appreciate it.

See ya.

- Oh, you gotta be f***ing joking.

- It's the guard!

I'm here for Sheehy and Cornell!

The rest of you can go,

if you've a mind to!

I'll take that as a no.

Let's get the f*** out of here, Clive!

Are you kidding me? This is better

than f***in' Christmas!

What?

Come on, move it out!

Ah, f***.

Good shot.

Flesh wound.

Wait, wait, I give up! Me hole!

- Aargh!

- Oh!

Boyle!

Boyle!

Lucky shot.

Ah, now, don't be a sore loser.

Although it's not every day

you lose half a billion dollars.

Two hundred million it was.

They're always f***in' overestimating.

Didn't I f***in' know well?

You don't know anything

about anything, you stupid little man.

Ah, I think I did all right for meself.

I did for you,

Francis Sheehy-Skeffington.

And your pals.

Who was up there

firing that f***in' cannon?

The FBI lad.

Probably hasn't had this much fun

since they burnt those kids at Waco.

- F***in' O'Leary.

- He wasn't the sharpest all right.

And the Englishman

wasn't much better.

Colombians are more reliable.

I'm not gonna beg you to help me,

if that's what you want.

I know how to die.

Good for you, Sheehy.

Good for you. I'll see ya.

Boyle!

Boyle!

Boyle!

Boyle!

F***.

- You from the press?

- Oh, God, no.

- A**hole.

- That's a good one now.

Moody.

You can use it

for the cover of your book.

What book?

You yokes are always writing books

about your f***in' experiences.

Probably sell it to the movies, then.

A fish-out-of-water story, huh?

Lots of action, bit of humour.

Throw in some young ones getting

their kit off and you're well away.

- Need a happy ending to sell it.

- Happy ending?

Didn't you foil a multimillion-dollar

drug-trafficking operation

and knock off a trio of drug barons

to boot? What's unhappy about that?

- Lost a good man.

- I wouldn't be sure about that, now.

They never recovered a body,

did they?

It's a big sea out there.

He's dead.

Either burned up or drowned.

But he was a really good swimmer.

I'm sorry, son, that was just bullshit.

He was never in the Olympics.

Well, maybe so. Sure,

it's easy enough to look up, anyways.

You know, I can't tell

if you're really motherfucking dumb

or really motherfucking smart.

# All my bags are packed,

I'm ready to go

# I'm standing here outside your door

# I hate to wake you up

# To say goodbye

# But the dawn is breaking

# It's early morn

# The taxi's waiting,

he's blowing his horn

# Already I'm so lonesome I could die

# So kiss me and smile for me

# Tell me that you'll wait for me

# Hold me like you'll never let me go

# Cos I'm leaving on a jet plane

# Don't know when I'll be back again

# Oh, babe, I hate to go

# There's so many times

I've let you down

# So many times I've played around

# I tell you now

# They don't mean a thing

# Every place I go I'll think of you

# Every song I sing, I'll sing for you

# When I come back

# I'll bring your wedding ring

# So kiss me and smile for me

# Tell me that you'll wait for me

# Hold me like you'll never let me go

# Cos I'm leaving on a jet plane

# Don't know when I'll be back again

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