Killer Elite Page #3

I didn't think I was a stranger.

Well, but you're still exotic.

Danny, something tells me

you've got a story to tell.

- Yeah.

- Mm.

Come on, what are you waiting for?

Party's outside.

Happy New Year!

It's a tradition around here.

Happy New Year.

Sh*t!

Mirbat. The artist's name is

on the back.

Have them talk to him.

One more thing.

My boys had some trouble in Oman.

Somebody was tailing them.

We'll have to have a look into that,

won't we?

Yeah.

Ah, that's how you get it

so life-like then.

Sorry?

Photos of the lads.

Isn't that like cheating?

I'm recreating a historical event.

Accuracy's everything.

Mm, that Mirbat painting stopped me cold

when I saw it.

You were at Mirbat?

Had a mate there. I was hoping you

might have an address for him.

You with the SAS?

Was.

Your best bet for an address would be

Regimental Association...

They won't talk to me.

I spent the last few years

plying my trade overseas.

Angola and that.

I come to you unofficial like.

Ah.

Well, I might have something somewhere.

Just give me a few minutes.

Be my guest.

I've got a bullshitter

asking about Mirbat.

Yeah, claims he's with the Regiment.

No, there's no way he was SAS.

Yeah, I can smell it off him.

Nah, he's a bloody fake!

Argh! Argh! Argh!

My contact says the call was cut off,

but Gowling said that

there was somebody there asking

about Mirbat. It has to be our guy.

And what would you have us do about it?

Find him. If we don't,

there's going to be another murder

and it'll be one of our Mirbat boys.

Then who are they?

Well, they're pros for sure.

If these guys are going after the SAS,

they're going to be

top class professional assassins.

They must have a string of hits

behind them,

but they're completely under the radar.

All we've got is Oman.

Oman?

We all know our people went too far.

Oman. Mirbat.

It all needs to be left alone.

You should try telling

that to the Welshman.

He's right.

We have to find this phoney Welshman

and his crew.

The file says an SAS officer killed

the Sheikh's son at Battle of Mirbat.

Warwick Steven Cregg. He was

the only officer there that night.

Killed everything that moved.

He's our worst nightmare.

A real hotshot.

Paintings of him. The lot.

Where'd you get this?

The bloke who did the paintings.

Don't you worry about that all right?

He's shuffled off this mortal coil.

That wasn't part of the deal.

Come on. Sh*t happens when you play

in the deep end of the pool, Danny.

Why can't you two stick to the plan,

huh?

Well you've been watching this Cregg.

What's your next big idea?

His wife's in hospital.

When he's not training for the selection

march he spends most days there.

So why don't we hit him there?

No.

Not near his family.

Get me everything

you know on that march.

We'll see where that goes.

Okay, so there's only four Mirbat

survivors in Britain.

I've got Locals on the other three.

You get the celebrity.

Warwick Cregg? You're kidding.

Wish I was.

Welcome to hell

the SAS selection march.

Forty-one miles,

fifty-five pounds of gear.

They lose someone every couple of years.

Don't you even think about it.

Why not?

During the march this place is

crawling with SAS.

Yeah, you said it yourself

it's an accident waiting to happen.

How are you going to catch him then?

He's been training for months.

He's like a greyhound.

Just have to slow him down, won't we?

Insulin, Chlorpropamide. Initial here.

Anything doing?

Nah. Cregg's still in there with

his missus.

Here boss, this'll keep you going.

Cheers.

Pennock!

I need you back here, mate. Pronto!

Oh! What are you doing?

What are you doing? You're f***ing mad.

F***! Get out of the f***ing way!

He's a maniac!

- Watch out!

- Oh! Unbelievable.

Argh!

Aagh!

Ugh!

Aaagh!

Ugh!

Ugh!

You wouldn't f***ing believe it.

Somebody was watching Cregg.

What?

Mmm.

You think he's from the same stable

as the shooter in the desert?

Maybe. He was good.

But whoever he is, he's too late.

Ah good, good. Chroma slows him down,

insulin sends him into shock.

Hypothermia to you.

And when were you planning on

getting it to him?

Before the march.

How? It's an SAS base, Danny.

That you trained in.

So think back, the security layout,

the lot.

You're nuts.

Are you going to do it?

Man, you really are

onecrazy sonofabitch, Danny.

Clock's ticking.

You've got under a minute, all right?

We got company.

Lovely night.

You can't stop here, mate.

I didn't stop. The truck did!

If you don't f***ing move it, we will!

All right, all right.

But it's pissing oil, mate.

There's nothing I could do about it.

Turn off the bloody radio.

Where's your gear?

Right! On the trucks!

I don't care what regiment you're from.

I don't care

how great you think you are.

Let's see what you're made of, ladies.

On the trucks.

Come on.

Get moving you lot.

He only got half the dose!

Is it enough?

Enough? He's a dead man walking!

Stay on him, okay?

His name was Salim Bin Amr.

Do you remember the name?

Did you kill him?

Think back. Did you kill him, Major?

Yeah, I did it. I did the bastard.

So bloody what?

Danny didn't want to do this.

And your boy doesn't want to go back

to the desert.

The Ministry of Defence today

announced the death of an army officer

during manoeuvres. The 33 year old,

Major Warwick Steven Cregg,

died of exposure during an SAS exercise

on the Brecon Beacons.

Weather conditions at the time were

described as appalling...

Show a bit of respect lads.

Top that.

I come bearing gifts.

Oi!

From my boys in Angola.

I have no idea

how you're meant to eat this.

So.

So.

Who's on our arse?

I'm on it. Don't worry.

Look, there's only one more to go.

After this is done I'll get

you boys a nice cushy job in the sun.

Hm?

There is no "after this. "

I'm a vulture. I live off killers.

Gives me a unique perspective.

Have you heard of the "two percent"?

That's you,

Davies, the SAS. All you lot.

Mercenaries, hit-men, heroes.

You're all part of that two percent

of men who are natural killers.

That's why you'll never get out.

You can't run away from

who you are, Danny.

That's not who I am.

That's what I've done.

And I can do something else.

Yeah, yeah.

That's all nice and good,

but let's just take care of

business first, shall we.

Your third target, Major Simon.

Mad Simon of late.

How'd you find him?

Asked around. It was easy.

These days he's your basic cash for

trash mercenary.

He's a sitting duck.

Now didn't I tell you

I came bearing gifts.

You know where to find me.

You don't trust that snake, do you?

He's lying.

Yeah? How do you know?

His lips were moving.

He just gave us a third target.

You've done nothing on that last file.

Someone's onto us!

I want Hunter out of there.

I want this finished!

And I want to be around to enjoy

the money when it is.

Well the first thing you should buy is

a pair of balls.

We're going after. All right?

I miss you.

There's a lot I don't know about you,

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