The Devil's Own Page #4

I've been tracking these bastards

for two years. He's the last one.

A month ago

he came to New York.

I have the authority

to use any means necessary...

to bring closure to this issue.

You want to talk to me again...

you read me my rights.

Cooperate with these people.

Don't piss your career away

over this.

They're not gonna bring him in.

They're gonna kill him.

The money, the missiles.

Where's Sean?

I have to see him.

Do you think you're gonna f***

with me, you bog-Irish hick!

F*** with me?

I think not.

You're on your own here, laddie.

You know it. I know it.

And I guarantee you

Sean knows it.

Get him.

Give us the money.

You're a stupid man, Mr. Burke.

Sweet dreams.

Frankie!

My mind's been racing,

but I've got a plan.

My sister lives with her husband in

San Francisco. They'll sort you out.

- There's no sorting me out.

- There is.

- I killed a cop.

- That's why you've got to go there.

I leave tonight.

- I'm going back home.

- We've got enough martyrs.

I'll ram that boat up their arse.

You have to tell them I'm coming.

You don't have to give it up.

Just lie low for a while.

If you want to fight,

you have to stay alive.

Sean's dead.

I leave tonight.

Is the boss in? Police business.

- Tom, how are you?

- Not so good.

- I had no idea. I tried to call.

- I was at the hospital with Eddie.

I'm so sorry about Eddie.

I sponsor dozens of these kids.

I should've checked his background.

I just can't put it together.

What's it for? The money?

- What was all that money for?

- What are you talking about?

I'm racking my brain. The only

thing I can think of is guns.

Like the one

my wife had jammed in her face.

Guys with guns came to my house.

Did you know that?

Why don't you go home...

Get some rest.

I'm sorry, Peter...

I will go home. I'm tired.

As soon as I lock him up.

Do me one more favour. Tell me...

- Where is he?

- I don't know.

Where is he? I'll put your head

right through this f***ing wall.

Stop! I just want to talk to you.

Come here.

Open the door!

I just want to talk!

- Where is he?

- He's not here.

Don't you touch him!

- Rory!

- Keep away from me, Tom.

- What's your name?

- Megan Doherty.

He's away, Megan.

I'm Tom O'Meara.

Rory's been staying with us.

Did he tell you?

I understand

why he's doing what he's doing.

If I'd endured what he's endured...

If I'd seen my father gunned down

in front of my family...

I'd be carrying a gun too,

but I wouldn't be wearing a badge.

I'm not going to lie to you.

I'm here to bring him in.

He killed a cop.

The FBI is after him.

The guys he was doing

business with here are after him.

There's an SAS agent...

who has tracked down and killed

every other member of his unit.

He doesn't have to die.

If you want to see him again,

you've got to help me find him.

I promise you I'll do everything

I can to bring him in alive.

Mr. O'Meara!

Hold it! Let me see your hands!

- I've got to bring you in, son.

- I'm not going back.

- The killing's got to stop.

- You'll have to kill to stop it.

It gets a bit complicated,

doesn't it?

Nobody has to get killed.

- Go home to your family, Tom.

- Don't move!

I'm not going back.

I told you. I warned you.

Did I tell you

my dad was a fisherman?

He loved the rocking of the sea.

He said there was no more

peaceful way of going to sleep.

You're a good man, Tom.

Hang on, Rory.

I'll get you to shore.

- Hang on, kid.

- I told you...

It's not an American story.

It's an Irish one.

We never had a choice...

you and I.

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