Killer Elite Page #3

Yeah, I'm on to this bloke here, right.

He was in the Bear earlier pumping

some SAS lads for info on Mirbat.

Mirbat? And?

He says he's Welsh

but he don't sound it.

I don't know, maybe

I'm being a bit paranoid, but...

Hey, just because you're being paranoid,

doesn't mean to say

they're not out to get you.

All right mate, give me what you got.

Okay.

I'll put one of my Locals on to him.

The Omani Embassy.

Our Local followed him

into the visa section.

Says he's Welsh.

Calls himself Mr. Jones.

We lost him after he left.

Lost him. How come?

He never came back to his car. Stolen.

Anyhow, he flies to Oman in four days.

I'd like permission to send

one of my boys out there to tail him.

This was definitely some kind of recce.

That was a dirty war.

What we did there was questionable.

Oman is a bloody hornet's nest.

Right. And if this bugger is

poking at it,

I want to know who he is.

I say we send a Local. Any objections?

Noted.

We'll leave you to choose the right man.

I'd also like it noted

that we are ex-SAS.

The men we protect are ex-SAS.

And you, Spike,

though you hate to admit it, are ex-SAS.

Remember, we're businessmen

and bankers now.

What we do here is illegal.

We can leave no trace of our activities.

That's why we're called The Feather Men.

Because our touch is light.

Our Spike is a good man.

The day the SAS lost him,

they lost a good.

Yes, but the problem is,

he thinks he's still in the SAS.

Well, someone has to do the dirty work.

None of us want blood on our pinstripes.

Listen, I've got no problem with blood.

What worries me is ink.

Make sure he keeps us out of

the newspapers.

What's doing boss?

Your Arabic's still good, right?

Good enough.

You're going to Oman. I've got a bloke

I want you to tail out there.

You lucky bastard.

You know what, you're gorgeous.

Where you staying?

I'm staying at the Hilton.

As a matter of fact, so am I.

What room are you in?

Why, would you like to know?

Love to know.

You are smooth.

What are we doing out here then,

in the middle of nowhere?

Well, I ask him to go hide it,

he hides it.

Could have been your a**hole.

Consider yourself lucky.

Shut it, Meier.

Appreciate it, thank you.

These tiles are an exact match to

the shower step?

Hundred percent.

Harris comes home, parks the car.

It's been a hard day.

I'll have a shower.

Whoops. He slips on the shampoo.

Hits the corner of the step

with his occiput.

- Case closed.

- Get out of it.

You boys are going about this all wrong.

That bird he's screwing is married.

Why don't we just pop Pop'em both and

make it look like her husband did it?

Pop'em both. What's she ever done?

It's Harris we're after.

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