The Jackal Page #3

Four are dead, one in Libya, but the last

is believed to be in the United States.

A Basque separatist

name Isabella Celia Zancona.

She might know what he looks like.

- But we have no idea of her whereabouts.

- Someone must.

Interpol says that in the '80s

she was involved with...

...Declan Joseph Mulqueen,

an IRA sharpshooter.

He burned out. They decided to get him

out of Ireland, shipped him here.

In '89, he picked up twice 25 years

for some old weapons trafficking charges.

He's serving time at a maximum-security

state pen in Massachusetts.

Say he does know where she is.

What makes you think he'll talk to you?

I'm hoping he'll cooperate

for a reduced sentence.

Don't promise too much.

After all, he's a terrorist.

You got some visitors, Mulqueen.

What do you want with Isabella?

She's done nothing here.

She entered the country illegally.

What? The FBI's sending

deputy directors out after illegal aliens?

Give over, Preston.

Who you really looking for?

A pro. Calls himself "The Jackal."

That fellow.

The mystery man.

We think she may be able

to help us find him.

If so, we'll arrange a pardon for her...

...signed by the President of the US.

And guarantee no extradition. We'd also

guarantee the Spanish government...

...will never know her whereabouts.

- They don't know now, do they?

And neither do you.

Let's keep it that way.

Would it matter that you might be

saving a human life?

And whose human life

would be important enough for all this?

Mr. Donald Brown, Director of the FBI.

Wouldn't that be droll?

We know that gang elements

in this prison want you dead.

The entire government

wants me dead, mister.

- Yet here I am.

- All right, smart ass, let's cut the bullshit.

You cooperate and we'll get you

transferred to a minimum-security facility.

That's our deal.

And that's your only chance

to walk out of this place in one piece.

That's a one-time offer.

Now take it or leave it.

Stuff it then,

as many f***ing times as you like.

Pardon the language. I've been in prison.

All right, what will it take

for you to help us?

First, I'd have to be convinced

Isabella would be kept safe.

Done.

Then you'd have to let me go.

Back to Ireland, a free man.

Out of the question.

Besides gunrunning, you're a known killer

of British government personnel.

And all the women

and children you've blown up.

It's not my war. I was never a bomber.

I don't see the distinction.

You still took human lives.

The distinction is I killed in a war.

Now I want to go home. Simple as that.

Simple for you, perhaps.

Even in Russia, soldiers go home

when the treaty's signed, nyet?

That's not gonna happen. Sorry.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes