Let Us Prey Page #3

Everything.

What does he know, Duncan?

What does he know?

Well, well. Doktor Hume.

Come to mend our ills.

What's up Doc? You here to

examine my wrist, are you?

- Back up, Doctor Hume.

- You'r a long way

from the moral high

ground down here, Doctor.

Still, we all make mistakes, eh?

- Mind your own, Beswick.

- Oh, I will if he will.

But there's one thing I can

not abide, it's a hypocrite.

How do you explain your presence

here this evening, then?

- Mr. Beswick just got owned!

- And what did you get?

I got to watch!

And I've got a wicked little

story to tell all my friends.

- You threatening me, Francis?

- It's Caesar.

And no, I'm mearly opening

the floor to discussion,

about what my silence might be

worth to yourself and the good doctor.

See, I might not be book smart,

- Mr. Beswick, but I ...

- You're not any kind of smart, Caesar.

You're an idiot.

So why don't you sit down,

shut up,

and stop scaring the wildlife.

I heard she used to be anybody's

for a can of cider and a thumb up her ass.

That evolutionary ladder just

will not climb itself, will it son?

Sticky, sticky little fingers.

So, according to our records

and your fingerprints

you are one Alexander Monroe

from Port Glasgow.

and you died in 1983, in a fire,

aged seventy nine.

Must say you're lookin well, Al.

The benefits of a clear conscience.

And that, right there,

is modern policing in action.

Technology! Totally unreliable.

Except, tonight, we're going to

do things the old fashoned way.

Keep it up!

We might just!

Okay.

Let's forget about who you

are for a minute, and ask why.

Why, for instnce, did Dr. Hume attack you?

Because the clock is ticking.

Midnight is approaching.

He said, "you know".

Know what, exactly?

That the price for our sins

is paid for in blood.

And that I ... shall be...

"I shall be a vagabond in the air".

"And everyone that

findeth me, shall slay me".

That's the one.

Something in common.

- We're both Christians, mate.

- Except, you're more of um...

Old Testament kind of guy,

aren't you?

The blood and the vengeance.

The sweat,

and the spunk.

I can smell it.

Must say, I don't remember

that one from Sunday school.

Neither do I, but then... I jumped ship.

- So you don't believe in God?

- Didn't say that.

But I would like a f***ing word.

Ours is not to question why.

No! Because, down here, we

get to do what we please. Right?

Take him.

Take him down!

- Sarge, I don't...

- No!

Oh excellent! I was just about

to call up for a round of tea.

Did I see a packet of

Burbon Creams up there?

Look, you should be out

in the morning, okay?

Mundie?

You f***ing dirt...

Jesus Christ! Are you okay?

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