The Gunman Page #4

You see, no more Kevlar vests for me.

I went from killer to cashier.

Don't tell anyone.

You look worried, Jim. What is it?

Terry, who all knew

about Project Calvary?

- Why do you wanna dig up that history?

- I was in Congo for the last year.

Yesterday, three indigs came after me,

specifically after me.

Specifically after you?

That's not good. Well, for all our sakes,

I hope you're wrong.

Who knew about Calvary? You, me, Reed,

and Bryson. But we're all brothers.

The clients knew, of course,

but who they were, I don't know.

I mean, mining corporations,

politicians...

That information was way above

my pay grade back then.

Felix Marti was the only civilian

who knew about it.

He was the only direct contact

with the clients.

I think if your gut instinct is that

this trouble is related to Calvary,

then we should both track down

Felix Marti, find out who's behind it.

The last I heard,

he was back in Barcelona.

I think I should track down

Reed and Bryson

and give them the heads up.

I think they might be operating still.

We should keep in contact about this.

How can I reach you?

I'll call you.

You keep your eyes open 'cause

they could be coming after you, too.

Terrier just walked out

of the company's building.

Heading west towards the junction.

North side.

Crossing the street now.

Sunglasses, parka, camo backpack.

Oscar 1, he's coming your way.

He's ex-Special Forces. Don't tail him

too close. He could spot you.

- He's heading for the subway.

- Stay with him?

Negative. Stand down.

We'll take it from here.

- Did you come alone?

- Well, what do you think?

- How long have you known me?

- I mean, you're sure you weren't followed?

After I received your message,

I caught two tubes,

walked twice round Victoria Park,

like a f***ing lunatic.

What's going on?

Jim, they're brain dead.

They only care about the match.

Three pipe-hitters just tried

to take me down in Congo, Stan.

F*** me.

What makes you think

they were after you?

It's the Congo, for f***'s sake.

What do you expect?

If we were to drop into Liberia tomorrow,

there'd be one or two feisty campers

who'd wanna kick the sh*t

out of most white blokes.

It wasn't regular army, Stanley,

it wasn't rebels, it wasn't FARDC.

- All right.

- All right?

F***ing cupcake.

- You're paranoid?

- Yeah.

Somebody wanted 50 ccs of me

for proof of kill. Is that paranoid?

Whoever it is that sent those hitters,

they've figured out by now

that I'm still alive.

I need to find out who wants me dead

before they find me again.

Well, Jim,

I'll put you up for a job, right,

keep you off the grid.

- It's black work, your type...

- No, I don't do that anymore.

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