Savage Dog Page #4

wanted war criminals.

What's with this guy?

In 1946, Martin Tillman set up

several large bombs targeting

RUC and B-Special Units.

We know he was working with his father

and brother who were part of the

flying column for the IRA.

But as they were killed

in one of the blasts,

he's our loose end, you might say.

Can't help you.

Well, if he does turn up, you can

find me via the British Embassy.

You look like a man that

could do with 10,000.

The reward money for information

expediting his apprehension.

D'you know what 10,000 looks like

in French Piastres, Mr Valentine?

Get up! Get up! Come on! Get up!

I hear...

You give your money to Valentine.

You ever wonder how you would

do in a regular boxing match?

Big money in America.

Madison Square Garden.

Imagine that.

I used to know people,

politicians, investors,

but I am SS Steiner.

And you...

are IRA Tillman.

I was sentenced to death

by a War Tribunal in absentia.

And you have the British

Secret Service hunting you.

So, all that we should ever be is this.

What we are right now.

Dearest Isabelle,

I'm sorry I have not been in touch.

I deeply, profoundly loved your mother.

And I'm sure what you would really

wish for me to say is that,

well that,

I love you too.

Well...

Unfortunately, I do not.

But you are, at best,

the daughter of a whore.

I deserve no such dignity

for your wishful thinking.

I was blinded by my own

lust and inexperience.

I could never love a daughter

of the woman who made

a cuckold out of me.

Who brought nothing but another

faceless, long uninhabited

this festering waste-land.

Cordially,

Hans Steiner.

How you doing?

Oh, we're winning so far.

There was a British agent

here asking after you.

I think he could catch

up to me, eventually.

The money is good, Martin,

but I don't need it.

Neither does Steiner.

You can quit when you want.

That's my military passport.

You can put your picture on it.

- Steiner won't let me...

- Forget Steiner!

Take the money from tomorrow's fight.

Go to America, take Isabelle with you.

You are as good as a bag of gel here.

And you don't even know it.

Go to the States, get

away, taste real freedom.

What about you?

I'll head South with my girl,

she's got family down there.

I'll do the next fight,

and I have to weeks til the next one.

Then I think it's time

to get out of here.

Whatever wrong you've done,

Does it matter to anybody?

Until you decide,

to go on living.

100,000 French Piastres.

That's the biggest part

you've ever taken.

However, no-one is betting

against you, so...

The odds are not looking

worthwhile, so...

You want me to lose the fight?

That was easy.

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