The Liquidator

Hey, I think we're lost, fellas.

What's he done now?

We just came through a house.

Is anybody home?

Hey, Rommel! Huh?

Why don't you get off your turret

and find out where we are, huh?

Oh, yeah, well, all right. Well, stick around, and I'll be right back.

The sergeant is gonna find out where we are.

Oh, uh, gun, gun. I forgot my gun.

Help!

Help!

Help!

I'm British.

Hey!

Hey!

Bloody marvelous, sergeant.

No waste of army ammunition.

What's your name?

What? Uh, Oakes. 7672247, TAC Corps.

Mostyn. Major, British Intelligence.

You stay here. I'll find someone to clean up the mess.

Yeah, w-well, wait a minute, major.

It's a lovely piece of work, old son.

I'll remember you.

Good morning, sir.

I think this is him now.

We've been trying to reach you at the club, colonel.

The chief wants to see you.

I'll bet he does.

Good morning, Chief.

Here's a large one for you, Mostyn. I think you'll need it.

Sit yourself down. Thank you.

I've just come from the Prime Minister.

They'd like our heads, Mostyn--

Preferably on a silver platter

in the House of Commons dining room.

Yes, but damn it, sir,

we couldn't act without evidence.

The press and the public aren't interested in our alibis, Mostyn.

As far as the country is concerned,

this is another unmitigated bloody disaster.

Hell's teeth.

I wouldn't mind if it was an isolated case,

but it's always happening.

And it always will, Chief,

as long as we're bound by the rules.

You're adopting a very negative attitude, if I say so, Mostyn.

They've got us by the short and curlies, lad,

and we've got to do something about it at the galloping double.

Yes, but what?

Let me see now. How many suspects have you at the moment

on your top secret list?

About 40.

About 40-- Every single one a potential spy.

And we can't do a damn thing about it

until they make a move when the balloon goes up.

Well, that's democracy for you, Chief.

As you just said, they've got us by the--

Yes, yes, yes, I know, I know.

Well, we've got to carve our way through all that, haven't we, little Mostyn?

I've formulated a plan. It's drastic, distasteful, but I can see no alternative.

Listen to me. These people, these security risks, no matter who they are--

The embassy boys, scientists, civil servants, no matter who--

The moment we smell any trouble, Mostyn--snap.

Snap?

Snap. We liquidate them.

We do what?

Liquidate them. Dispose of them.

Give them the wooden overcoat,

the deep six, the chop-- Do you follow me?

Chief, you'll never get official sanction.

And who the hell's talking about official sanction, eh?

Well, it's against all the principles of the Free World.

Who in the name of the four and twenty virgins

is talking about principles, may I ask?

Did we have principles in wartime?

Mostyn, we've got to dam the floods, stem our security leaks.

We've got to throw their intelligence cells out of gear,

regain the trust of our allies. Ha ha!

To say nothing of saving our own fat, greasy necks, thank you very much.

Well?

I think it's ruddy marvelous.

Ha ha ha! I thought you might.

Instead of scandals, my dear little boy, we'll have accidents--

Neat, unfortunate, fatal...accidents.

What a pity.

The chiefs of staff would never agree.

Oh, my poor boy, haven't you got it even yet?

I have no intention of telling the blasted chiefs of staff.

I'm not going to even tell our own people.

Just you and I and the man who operates

when you press the button.

Zzz...kch!

Find the man and train him-- No cheap crooks.

Go through your files, search your memory, you'll find him.

A private executioner?

Precisely.

We can afford a good salary to get the right chap.

What's the price of loyalty these days? I'm out of touch.

6,000 a year or so with extras.

Perhaps a bit of crumpet on the side.

Then you're just the little fellow

to arrange that, aren't you?

But, Chief, this is tantamount to murder.

Then go and find a murderer.

Forasmuch as it has pleased almighty God in his great mercy

to take unto himself the soul of our brother here departed,

we therefore commit his body to the ground...

earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust

in sure and certain hope of the resurrection

to eternal life.

Remember me, Sergeant Oakes?

Oh, hello... uh, Paris. Mmm.

Ha. Major, uh...

Mostyn, old son. Colonel now.

Oh, fancy seeing you.

Oh, I don't know. Our paths were bound to cross.

I believe the nickname's Boysie, isn't it?

How'd you find that out?

I just thought I'd look you up.

After all, you did save my life, didn't you?

Yes, I guess I did.

When I heard you were running a cafe around here,

I thought I'd call round for a cup of tea.

But the place was closed,

and someone told me to try the cemetery.

Yeah. My, uh, partner died.

Oh, my condolences. An accident?

Yes. He fell off a ladder.

Of course. On his head.

Death's no stranger to you, is it, Boysie?

That's a funny thing to say.

On his head, eh? Careless chap.

Uh, do you mind if we get out of here?

This is hardly the place to, uh...

To talk about death? You're quite right.

Let's find somewhere more congenial.

Sorry, Boysie. I didn't know you had company.

Don't worry. I'll get rid of him as quick as I can.

Hmm? Not on my account, lovey.

Here. Come on.

Fascinating. Multicolored tits.

Eh?

Where'd you get this little lot?

Oh.

Well, my partner Phil Redfern was a bird fancier.

Ha ha! So are you, old Boysie.

You've got three other birds like that

with whom you operate in strict rotation.

No wonder you stayed in England.

Well, what the hell is all this?

Have you been checking up on me?

A little. Business not doing very well, is it?

What? Oh, I see.

You're from one of those blasted finance companies.

Ah, relax, old chum.

I'm not here to take away the refrigerator.

You'd better take a look at this.

Security? N-now, wait. What's the matter?

Don't be alarmed, old son.

I'm not a real copper.

Besides, nobody believes you pushed your partner off the ladder.

Now, listen, cut that out.

Did I touch a raw nerve, old son?

He fell off the ladder.

Yes, of course. Oakesie, I've come to offer you a job.

What? Who with?

The department. A well-paid job, I might add.

Your crowd? Ha ha! Me?

Of course, it would mean leaving this delightful corner of the world

and coming to London.

No more necking every Thursday with the town clerk's wife.

Who told you that?

Fortunately, she wasn't pregnant.

We don't want to leave any mementos behind, do we?

Of course, there'll be compensations.

The money we pay you will allow you a nibble at the old dolce vita.

The what?

The sweet life.

The sweet-- Oh, yeah, very funny.

Okay, you've had your little game.

Thanks for calling. Now, get out.

Oakes!

Don't you play the yokel with me.

This discussion is confidential.

It's absolutely confidential, do you understand?

Ahem. Yes, sir.

Do you think I'd spend weeks checking up on you to waste my time--

The government's time, Oakes?

I don't like to be fooled around,

so don't you fool me around.

Now, let's discuss this in a rational way.

Yeah, well, uh, wh-what kind of job is it?

Well, first things first.

I want us to be friends, Boysie.

Oh. You-- You mentioned money.

Precisely. I think you'll find us generous.

I want you to place yourself in my hands.

Let me take you away from all this.