Red Riding: In the Year of Our Lord 1974 Page #2

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out there.

They give them a taste

in Northern Ireland,

bring them back home hungry.

F*** off! Death squads.

And every city

has its death squads.

Sentence first, evidence after.

All right, well,

I'll steer well clear

of Wakey County Council

death squad, then.

You can laugh.

I will.

Why not work Watergate in there,

too, while you're about it?

Death squads, Barry?

Come on, you're losing it, mate.

- Oh, sh*t.

- What?

Oh, you're a lucky man, Dunford.

Mr. Gannon?

BJ, in there.

Are you all right, fella?

[Catcalls and whistles]

F***ing hell.

Business.

I didn't think

it were pleasure, did I?

Oy.

Having a nice time

back up North?

Yeah, you know, Barry.

Gets a bit obtuse.

Obtuse?

There's a big word for you.

Oh. How about you?

How about me what?

Are you having a good time?

Oh, I love being on me own

in bars.

Oh, no, you weren't.

You weren't alone.

You could have come over.

Well, I wasn't invited.

Oh, poor baby.

Oh, I love you.

I love you, Eddie.

- Who had love

that's now departed?

I know I've got to find

Some kind of peace of mind

I've missed you, Eddie, love.

[Toilet flushes]

[Telephone ringing]

Eddie.

[Knock at door]

It's for him.

Yeah?

Dunford, I thought you were

a f***ing journalist.

Well, you best start

asking questions.

Who is this?

You don't need to know.

Are you interested

in the Romany way?

White vans and gypos.

Where?

Hunslet Beeston exit off the M1.

When?

Mischief night came early,

and you're late.

[dial tone drones]

[Suspenseful music]

[Horse snorts]

[Baby crying]

Someone had torched

the whole f***ing place.

It was-it was like Vietnam

or something.

Well, Bill Molloy's got it in

for the gypsies, hasn't he?

You reckon it was the police?

Their style.

That land's earmarked.

New John Dawson development.

Here, don't be late, mate.

The Badger doesn't like

newspapermen.

Into the lion's den you go.

Come on, then, son.

Surprise me.

Well, Mr. Molloy, sir,

I was just wondering

if there were any more news

on Clare Kemplay?

Nothing.

Sweet f*** all.

That poor lass is dead, son.

And Jeanette Garland,

Susan Ridyard?

There are some

similarities there, eh?

I'm thinking about

the A34 murders, Cannock Chase.

What the f*** do you know

about Cannock Chase?

Just that it turned out

it was the work of one man,

wasn't it?

And here we have

Jeanette Garland, Susan Ridyard,

Clare Kemplay-

they all go missing.

You're not the first one

to put that together, son.

You vain little twat.

My senile bloody auntie could.

You haven't got a story, son.

Best we find her body,

and quick.

Check the bins.

See who's got themselves

an early away day.

All right.

Pull in local gypos and paddies.

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