Killer Elite

Hey kiddo, what are you doing?

I buy you a fancy Mexican meal

and you're feeding it to a mutt.

Real fancy.

Have you any idea what that is?

What?

- Tree chicken.

- What?

That's what the locals call it.

Colds, headaches, hangovers.

Cures anything.

Iguana. That's what they say.

What about indigestion?

F*cking iguana taco.

Yeah well, you had it in Salvador.

Yeah, and that was shit.

What about Angola?

The food was good there right?

Shit.

Yeah? Rhodesia?

Shit.

- Hamburg?

- Shit.

So if it's not New York it's...

You got it. Shit.

Look at you wasting away.

We got to get a job in New York.

That won't be a problem.

Plenty of assholes there.

Time to move kiddo.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Oops.

F*ck!

Stay down!

Stay down kid!

What happened?!

- There was a kid in the car.

- What?!

There was a kid in the car.

Go, go, go, go!

F*ck!

I'm done with this. I'm finished.

I can't do this anymore.

I can't do this.

Oh, shit!

Shit.

Danny, get in.

These camel-jockeys have got diseases

I don't want to think about.

Where is he?

The Client still has him.

What Client?

We're going there now.

Okay, drive.

So the client's an oil sheikh, no less.

Used to rule some huge stretch

of desert 'til his tribe kicked him out.

Been living here in exile ever since.

Anyway, sheikhy was loaded

and he wanted a job done.

Hunter took the contract, then he ran.

They caught him at the airport.

And?

You know the rest. You got the package.

Yeah, I got it. What's the job?

It just came with a price tag

no details. Hunter took it cold.

Why would he do that?

Six million dollars. A big score, Danny.

Too bloody big for Hunter.

Yeah. Well, why'd you offer it to him.

He wanted the money and you were out.

Remember?

Yeah. Still am.

I'm done with killing.

Yeah well maybe killing ain't done

with you.

Hunter needs the old Danny,

the best in the biz.

The one with balls of steel.

You remember him, right.

Look, it comes down to this...

you don't do this job,

Hunter's a dead man.

They're waiting for you.

This way.

He is waiting for his eyes to adjust.

Be careful around this one, boy.

My son forgets the ways of the desert.

Since our war against the Sultan,

all he has had of his homeland is

this paint. Plaster.

My first son, Hussein,

was slaughtered here.

Shot before his children.

And here, at the battle of Mirbat

his brother, Salim, was wounded

and then killed. Murdered.

And then my third son was taken

from me. Ali.

Hunted down and slaughtered.

The law of the desert says

the blood of the victim

must be washed away

by the blood of the killers,

but I refused revenge

and saved my last son,

Bakhait, from the war.

So I was exiled to this desert.

I have wealth, power

but rich men die too.

When I die,

I want Bakhait to go home to my tribe.

But for that to happen,

the killers of my sons must be killed.

You don't need me or Hunter for this.

You've got all the men you need.

What use would my men be in England?

England?

The English sent their fiercest dogs

to kill for a Sultan's oil!

The SAS?

Yes, their glorious special forces.

It was a war!

It was not England's war!

They came to my land, murdered my sons,

now they will face my law!

The doctors say

I have six months left to live.

You must avenge my sons before I die,

or your friend will die with me.

I don't care how you kill the killers,

but they will admit their guilt on tape.

And their deaths must look like

accidents.

This must not lead back to my son.

So go.

Show the English a war isn't over

'til both sides say it is.

I want to see Hunter.

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