Kite Page #5

northbound on quadrant three flyover.

All units in the vicinity are

asked to respond immediately.

Shots are being fired.

Yo, cheeky prawn.

You got something what belong to us.

We want it back? Or we clap you one.

Happy to return it.

I'm not talking about no ball, doffhead.

Money girl.

She be promised to us.

Get him!

...is now underway.

All persons within the vicinity

of this address

are advised to seek immediate shelter.

Anyone remaining at the scene

will be arrested...

Aker... I've seen the evidence inside.

They're analyzing the girl's

clothes and the shells.

It looks like the same weapon

that was used to kill Kratsov.

He killed them.

Get on the shipment.

Container yard.

You're late.

- Not my fault.

- Stay on schedule.

Wake up.

Get up.

Get up.

Move it.

Hey, hey.

Hey!

Let me see what's going on in there.

What are you doing here?

Got her, Doc.

Freeze.

- Hey, drop it!

- Put it down!

You've been looking for me, I understand.

Difficult to slip in as a girl

when the cargo consists of boys.

A bit of misinformation here and there...

...leads to some interesting results.

Doesn't it?

Miss...

Sawa.

Such an unusual name.

My father...

Sawa.

My father said that it meant the

sound that you couldn't hold...

...and the feather blown by the wind.

A poet.

A cop.

An unfortunate occupation

in this part of the world.

Well, you would know.

You killed him.

Emir.

And you killed Clive Thornhill, Miss Sawa.

Among many of my other clients,

it would seem.

You talk about them like

they're businessmen.

Oh, but they are.

Who do you suppose buys children, the poor?

No.

It is business, Miss Sawa.

And I control that business

by sitting at the choke hold

of what gets out of this

godforsaken ruin of a country.

Mr. Thornhill.

Is this the young lady you're seeking?

Shamil.

- Come here, you...

- You'll have your turn, Mr. Thornhill.

But first she needs to talk.

Oh, I'll make her bloody squeal.

Shamil.

Do you see this, Miss Sawa?

Russian soldiers dragged me

into a local shop in Chechnya...

...and deep-fried my hand.

They then chopped it into little bits

and made everyone in the

village eat a piece

for having given me shelter.

An effective method to get people to talk,

I can assure you.

Now is there something you want to tell us?

Like the name of your employer, perhaps?

The person behind the killings

that's been disrupting

my business for years.

I'd like to tell you...

...I'm gonna take my earring back.

And then I'm gonna kill every one of you.

Oh, skip the bleeding hors d'oeuvres,

shall we, and get on with it.

I don't give f***-all square

about your hand, love.

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