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Oh, Jenny was in my acting class.
Told you you wouldn't be able to see through that gate.
Gate's open. I had a butcher's at the house.
Who'd you butcher at the house?
Butcher's hook. Look. I don't much reckon those minders of his.
Huh?
He's brought in the heavy mob.
What?
Extra muscle. Bodyguards.
Has he?
They look a right load of wallies. Patrolling back and forth outside the gate, all ponced up like the fuckin' Household Cavalry. Watch it.
That was one of them?
See what I mean? Wearing bloomin' uniforms n' all.
What's so fucking funny?
Those aren't guards. They're valets.
Valets. What d'ya mean valets. What is he, then, the Earl of fucking Doncaster?
<u>Valets</u>. They park cars. He's having a party.
Valets, eh? Aren't we all ladeda.
I thought you just wanted to check out the house, man.
Well, that's what we're doin', n' it.
No one else is even here yet.
First in, first out, that's me.
What are we standing on?
Faith.
Bring the motor around. Bang out in front, right?
You goin' back inside?
One thing I need.
Steady on.
You steady on, man. What the fuck else did you do back there.
Why didn't you just kill him, you had the chance.
That would be too easy.
Too easy?
He's gotta know why.
You think a fuckin' guy like that ever will? What more do you want, man?
I've been wondering something.
Again?
Do you have any friends, man?
Yeah, I suppose. Call 'em that, yeah. Down the boozer Saturday night. Meet some of the lads.
Useless gits. I was gonna do the Post Office once.
What post office?
The lot. The whole British bloody Post Office. I had a brilliant plan all worked out work of genius, it was. Could I get anybody interested? No they're too busy pinching orange squash from the milkman. Lazy sods. Jumble sale on in Watford, they'll be up at the crack of dawn.
Man knows what he likes.
Lookin' good.
That's a highend item. Total reliability.
What'd you call that the Protector?
Yes, sir. Won't find a better CQC on the market.
CQ what?
Close Quarters Combat. Keep one in my own home.
Oh really? Where you from?
England. Only, we saw there was a show on, thought I might pick something up for a price, type of thing.
You came to the right place, sir. My wife's second cousin is English. Well, ScotchIrish. Can I interest you in a holster?
Just luck, this, really. Never been to one of these before.
You're in gun country now, my friend.
Been to the Boat Show.
Packs a punch, but it's compact, has accessible features makes a nice concealedcarry piece.
I can take care of the paperwork.
Yeah?
No problem. If <u>you</u> don't have a problem with me reporting this gun stolen.
You broke last time.
Let him break he likes to break.
Fuck you.
I wouldn't talk.
Huh?
I saw your mother on the Strip last night. She went up to three guys, said she'd like 'em to stick one in each, know what I mean?
What.
There's been some trouble downtown.
What kind?
What the papers used to call a "gangland slaying."
Our black friends?
No, Terry. They don't work like that. Jenny Wilson's father paid a little visit, left a message.
I thought he was in prison, in England.
Well, either they have a very liberal workrelease program, or he's out, because he's here in L.A., looking for you.
You should have let me do the talking.
Why, because you're my security consultant? This cocksucker nearly burnt my house down.
What did you tell them.
I mean, Gordon must weigh a good four hundred pounds.
Heavier than that now. But are there any drugs in that stomach to back up your story.
As it happens. I didn't make that part up.
And where is this guest? Don't they want to interview him.
I don't know everyone here. He was so traumatized he split. Maybe he was Gordon's <u>pusher</u>.
Where do <u>you</u> think he is, Mike.
We'll find him.
No. I mean. Not even your people should be involved. Right? It's too close now.
You could use a few of my prime shitkickers up here.
You think I'm staying?
There's already gonna be talk about how people close to you keep falling into canyons.
Well, can we make it one more. Nowhere the fuck near me.
Hey.
Come over here.
How they goin', kid?
Not bad.
How'd you like to kill someone for me?
Okay.
Same as last time the rest after.
Where do we go?
When you find the guy, you'll know.
What shit is this. I just do it. I don't prepare it.
I'll point you in the right direction, but you'll have to take it to the end zone. He's a hitandrun gunman I figure he's not cruising the Polo Lounge.
This is unfucking professional.
See, a successful man like me has limitations I lose touch at a street level. So I have to depend on a smart boy like you who's closer to the nitty and the gritty than I am.