We Still Steal The Old Way Page #5

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Listen, I need you to do something for me.

I need you to go to Jack Houghton...

Ask him if he'll come in here and see Vic Farrow.

Vic Farrow?!

- He's in here.

I don't know how he's in here, but he's in here.

Are you safe?

Depends how safe you think prison is.

No, but listen, Vic is threatening

to go after Carmen.

What?!

Talk to Jack Houghton. Ask him to

bring in the farrow tape.

He'll know what that means.

- What does it mean, Richie?

You don't need to know that, Lizzie.

Just ask Jack to bring the tape in, for Farrow.

I'm really worried, Richie.

Don't be. Bye.

You are gonna break me out

of here, aren't you Richie?

I'm a man of my word. Look,

Farrow is just a complication.

But your fixer hasn't come through.

You should have stuck Farrow in

a sack with a couple of breeze

blocks and dumped him in the

Thames when you had the chance.

And I told you to, in point of fact.

I thought I'd done the next best thing.

Anyway, you know I don't like killing people,

unless, of course, they're trying to kill me first.

I always thought that was an odd trait of yours.

I know you're there, Harry.

F***! Would you stop doing that?

This is what I do.

Now, what do you want me to do?

I've got another little errand for you.

I don't do errands.

- Snatch and grab; bring him here.

Vic wants to have some fun when he gets out.

I don't do errands.

- What?

Just f***ing do it.

I'm not some henchman you bark orders at.

You're someone Mr. Farrow pays,

which means you do what I tell you.

Which means I can call you whatever the f*** I want.

Do as you're f***ing told, old man.

The details are in the envelope.

Your friend, Jenny...

Remember her?

- Oh, of course I do, God rest her soul.

Well, her death--

- No:
her murder.

She...well, you know what happened.

Yeah. I know she didn't take drugs--she

was made to--and that makes it murder.

And we all know who was pushing drugs back in those days.

Yeah:
Farrow.

- Exactly.

Anyway...

Richie wanted me to set Farrow up with

something that would put him away for ever.

Scotland Yard had a mountain of unsolved

cases in those days, and I pulled a good'n.

A "gangland slaying" as they

used to say in the press.

So I cobbled together enough evidence to

put Farrow in a room with the dead body.

Things were so much easier back then.

- So what's on this tape?

Some gobby Geordie Skrope.

Fennick, I think his name was.

He was holding for something else entirely,

and coughed up the whole bloody thing.

If we pressed the charges against him,

our whole bloody case would've collapsed.

So you hid the confession tape?

- Yeah

Well, where is it?

- It's safe.

It's very simple.

You meet Farrow, you give him the tape.

He'll call off his dogs and Richie

can move on with the escape plan.

What's on that tape is enough to get Farrow released.

And with a golden f***ing handshake

thrown in for good measure.

You okay with that, are you?

I just want my father to see my mother one last time.

So, Detective Inspector, here we are then.

It's just plain old "Mister" these days.

You know something?

I'd have given odds saying you were dead by now.

How'd you make that out, then?

Well, coppers like you...take away

the job, what's left? F***-all, right?

Most of you end up in a single room with a bottle

of scotch and a length of rope for company.

Let's just get on with this, shall we?

I could just kill him with

my bare hands, I really could.

Lizzie, look at me.

It's going to be alright; trust me.

But do you really think you can...

...escape?

Is everything in place?

Ol' Vic's a problem, and you know I hate being outmaneuvered; I like control and order.

And Vic is out of control, and he's seriously out of order.

Richie, if you get blood on your hands,

you might never get out of here.

Look, here's the truth Lizzie:

The boys and I chose to be in here. Maybe that's the way it's supposed to be.

I mean, God knows we've all done

enough to deserve it, haven't we?

What about me?

I mean, have you for one minute even

given any thought to how I might be feeling?

Well, you move on; you get on with your life.

You're just a bloody idiot, aren't you?

- Eh?

There was me thinking we might even have half a chance.

Oh, Lizzie.

No. I'm sorry.

- Yes, but it's just not good enough, is it?

No contact!

Sorry, Mr. Riley.

- The rules are clear, Archer.

You know something? If you were to, uh...

...fortunately die tonight from a massive f***ing stroke...

you'd at least have done one good

thing in your miserable dog-sh*t life.

You know what, Farrow?

I think I'll hang on for another couple

years, just to piss you off, mate.

I hear that you've not been having

a lot of luck with your IP-19s.

Two knock-backs in three years?

Three in four.

Right... Well, for your information...

The new governor would be forced

to give you a single cell...

if you, uh, prove to be a threat. Did you know that?

You mean you want

me to ... kill someone?

That new cellmate of

yours, the big prick...

I could do with him out of the way.

And, uh, if that were to happen...well...

Hey, presto! Two weeks in segregation and um...

When you get out: straight into a single cell.

All on your own.

"May your plans be dark and

as impenetrable as night."

"And when you move, fall like a thunderbolt."

Are you taking the piss?

- I was quoting.

Sun Tzu.

I know when someone's taking the piss, OK?

You wanna watch that f***ing tongue of yours.

Or I'll rip it out of your f***ing throat quicker

than you can say "psycho f***ing nut-job."

Do you understand?

- Yes, Mr. Farrow.

Good, David.

I know you're here, so you might as well come out.

Hah, I knew it. Mr. Farrow says hello.

Am I missing something?

- Yeah, a few brain cells.

What? What did you say?

Let's get this over with.

- Where the f*** is Lizzie Davis?

Safe.

- I told you to bring her here.

There are rules.

Oh f***in' hell, don't start with

all that "old ways" bullshit.

This is the 21st century

already; the Krays are dead.

The old-school rules went out years ago.

No women or children.

- A job is a job.

Money is money. Now get out

there and bring her to me.

Do you know who she is?

- I don't f***ing care who she is.

Mr. Farrow wants her grabbed, so Mr. Farrow...

Where the f*** are you?

Mr. Archer says goodbye.

F***ing prick.

I dispose of my victims using potassium hydroxide.

It's a highly effective method of disposal.

Have you tried it?

Heh, can't say I have, no.

- I thought you would have, given your background.

What the f***ing hell do you know about my background?

You know your way around a cadaver.

You're considered to be something of a craftsman.

Who've you been talking to?

- I hear things.

Yeah. I bet you do.

Come on, Sunshine, what's going on?

You give me the silent treatment for days, then all of a sudden you're going on about acid baths.

Potassium hydroxide is... alkaline.

Well, pardon the f*** out of me.

- I was just trying to make conversation...

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