Veronica Guerin Page #3

I got you famous with those stories.

Yeah, you feed me superficial crap.

- I make you look good.|- Great picture.

Come on. I need your help to get to Cahill.|Write me a reference.

I'm late for an appointment.

Word of advice.|Stay away from Martin Cahill.

Sorry to disturb you.

Are you Mrs Cahill? Frances Cahill?

Right.

Are you Frances Cahill?

- I am.|- Hi. I'm Veronica.

- I'm a friend of John Traynor's.|- I know who you are.

Is your husband home?|I just want to ask him a favour.

Martin Cahill doesn't|do favours for journalists.

So piss off.

There's a rumour going about he's putting|drugs on the street. You got any comment?

I know he nailed a tout to the floor of a flat|the other day. Was it drug-related?

Look, I just want a brief comment.|Off the record.

I'll be out of your...

Mr Cahill! You couldn't|do me a favour, could you?

I need the names of those kids|who are selling drugs for you.

And I'll do you a favour. I won't write|what people are saying about you.

You know, that you're having kids|with your wife's sisters.

There's me number. Give me a call.

Cheers.

So, what can I do for you, Veronica?

How could you lose a body?

- That's just downright careless.|- You find some, you lose some.

It'll turn up. Those bodies always do.

So you gonna join those crying foul?

''More Garda incompetence.|Is this why we pay our taxes?''

Some might say it's incompetent, but|you could say it's that you're understaffed.

Your hands are tied. You couldn't maintain|24-hour surveillance on that murder site.

People should know that.|I mean, I think someone should write that.

And if someone did write that,|what would that someone want in return?

I talked to the couple you detained|after the weekend in Amsterdam.

Held for 48 hours cos they bought|nothing there but a box of condoms.

How does it feel to wait around for a mule|to shite out a condom full of drugs?

You and I both know that the courier's|the lowest man in the organisation.

Somewhere some Mr Big is sitting there,|laughing at you and your stool sample.

You can't touch him. I want -|we both want - to get Mr Untouchable.

What are you gonna do when you get him?

Your paper's so scared|that some big criminal is gonna sue them,

they employ more lawyers than journalists.

Well, I mean,|there's more than 300,000 people.

I don't want to blow my own trumpet,|but they know Martin Cahill's the General

because, you know,|of what I write in the Sunday Independent.

- At least they know what he's up to.|- Great, for your readers.

But does it help me|put him behind bars, does it?

We're on the same side, Chris.

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