Ultimate Force s01e05 Episode Script

Can you move away from the window, please, Mrs Gracey.
Where's Billy? Billy! Billy! You little shite, come here.
I can't run an election campaign from behind a desk.
- It's for your own safety, Mr Gracey.
- You can't scare me, Captain.
This isn't the first threat on my life.
It's a fragile peace.
We can't afford mistakes.
Our information comes from a reliable source.
Who? Does the name Jack Cullen mean anything to you? Movement sighted, left to right, green delta.
Jem, Alex, do you copy? Have eyeball.
Dicker.
Green delta.
'Hold your position.
' What have I told ye? What did I say? Just get yourself ready.
- It's a date, not a proposal of marriage.
- I don't care.
You are not going.
- It's been arranged.
- You can just unarrange it.
- Listen to your mum.
- I can handle this myself, thank you.
No.
And that's final.
Have we got a go? That's a negative.
Don't want to scare anybody off.
Do we? - Jack Cullen is dead.
- No.
Jack Cullen works for us.
Are you sure about that? The Jack Cullen I knew only looked out for himself.
Which makes him a perfect undercover operative.
My family'd better be safe.
Billy wait! Billy, wait.
Wait! When I say stop, I mean stop, OK? You must never get in the car before it's checked.
Get in.
- Does your husband kiss you? - Yeah.
Looks like our dick has finished dicking.
Hold your positions.
Time.
How's it hanging, James? Piss off, Henry.
Never, ever, call me that.
Go.
Keep your arse out of the wind.
'I hope he's got clean shreddies.
' Henno.
Green alpha on one.
OK.
Here he comes.
Clear behind.
Shit.
Police VCP.
- They want me to stop.
- 'You'll have to.
' Step out of the car, please, sir.
- Whose balls-up is this? - Don't look at me.
- Shit.
He wants us to move on.
- Only if you run the bastard over.
Mister! On your way, now.
Nothing doing.
Excuse me, sir.
Armed! Quick, get him in there.
Get the wee fecker in.
Get in! Moving.
Put him in the back seat, for Christ's sake.
Contact, we need back up and we need it now.
- Push him in.
- Go in.
- Feck.
Feck.
- Watch the road, Mick.
- It's not Gracey, we've been set up.
We don't know that.
You're all right, Kieran, you're not hurt bad.
- If it's not Gracey, who is it? - Name? Jamie Dow, private, 1873962, Royal Engineers.
Pat him down.
Check his shoes, make sure he's not wearing a tracer.
What's that? Our death warrant, that's what that is.
Special Branch are supposed to know what's going on.
- We couldn't have anticipated this.
- They were in a police Land Rover.
- Henno, please.
- It's bollocks.
No one noticed an armoured Land Rover go missing? - We were expecting the boyos on a bike.
- Our information wasn't accurate.
- That's great.
- We've closed the border.
They'll be across the border and Jamie's as good as dead.
Why? Because the police in Belfast and Strabane couldn't let us know the SP.
- Vehicle's clean.
- RTB at 1100 hours for the debrief.
An unintelligence officer screwed up.
You couldn't have known.
Uniforms were wrong.
Old cap badges, dress uniform, it was obvious.
- They were pretty convincing.
- Yeah.
And now they'll be convincing Jamie he's better off dead.
Shaunessy, Matt? We need an address.
- Was the package delivered? - The package is with us.
They got the order wrong.
We need an address.
Go to the bay.
A man named Monday.
He'll see you right.
- Ballybay.
- He's dead.
- I'm not driving about with a corpse.
- Catch yourself on, Mick.
See what you've done? See what you Brit bastards have done! What'd you take his hood off for? Sean.
Shoot him now and we walk away with nothing.
Drive.
Drive.
The big picture.
It's what we have to remember, gentlemen.
The CO has sent his regards on a job well done.
He's flying in as soon as Shame about Jamie.
Still, 2-1 away win to us, 3 points in the bag.
The by-election goes ahead.
The objective was achieved.
Dotsy's right.
- That's one of them.
- Fintan Maguire.
- OC in the Newry active service unit.
- Joint ops with South Armagh? We've already identified one of the stiffs as Danny McLeish.
The other we're having difficulty with.
Half his face was scraped off the tarmac.
Shoot sharp, not pretty.
Did intelligence come through group or E4A? - Classified.
- That's bollocks.
I'm as unhappy with this as you are, Henno.
The plods are working to find him.
There's nothing more we can do.
I need some air.
The stench of bullshit's choking me.
Get up! Sorry, Kiers, I'm gonna have to Chair.
Sit.
We can do this the hard way if you prefer.
Sit down, please.
Why don't we just shoot him? Let's start with what ye can tell me.
Name, rank and number.
Jamie Dow, private, 1873962, Royal Engineers.
I'm just a grunt.
I don't know anything.
22 Regiment.
Hmm? Am I right? - SAS? The bastard's SAS? - I'll give you a tip, shall I? Focus on a wee spot on the wall and don't listen to me.
That'd be fatal.
Focus on the wee spot and let your mind drift.
That's what you're taught, isn't it? That is the training? Mick, get a fire going.
Sean, tie him up.
You will talk, my friend.
You will talk.
Jamie.
Wherever you are, mate.
- Yeah.
- Jamie.
- Bagsie his monkey boots.
- Wait for the auction.
- What size was he, 9, 10? - Piss off.
Watch out, there's a lumpy jumper about.
- I'll buy you a drink.
- Yeah.
Hold, Mick.
You still focusing on your wee spot? What's it doing? Is it getting bigger, swirling about? You can't help but listen, can ye? I know what's going on in your head.
"If I can just hold out, think the pain away.
" - But it's there all the same.
- Fintan, sure, he's not gonna talk.
I don't know about that.
Squeal, you fucker.
And even if he did, sure what could he tell us? They knew a hit was planned.
Now, how did they get that information? - Hm? Touts? - Your problem, not mine.
See, he can talk.
Step aside, Mick.
Now, you've no lifelines left.
Ye cannae phone a friend, ask the audience or go 50-50 and you're still 15 questions away from a million pound.
What outfit are you with? Is it A: 22 Regiment SAS, B: E4A, C: Al-poxy-Qaida or D: Too dumb to know what's good for ye? D.
- As intelligence officer, I got it wrong.
- We got it wrong.
The active service unit were more sophisticated than we thought.
Watch it, ma'am.
You'll never get the right ticks, talking like that.
- I should have put a bullet in his head.
- I'm no having this.
What gives you the right to mope around? We share responsibility here.
Difference is, the rest of us aren't trying to get shrapnel on the chest for it.
If you weren't a mate, I'd knock you out.
- Jem.
- Hm? Go on, Jeez, it won't kill ye.
- Save it for Jamie Dow.
- Who? - Georgia's gone.
She's disappeared.
PPK.
Strap it to your ankle.
- Where are we going? - Prove a point.
- When did you last see your daughter? - When I took her to school.
- My family were in your hands.
- We don't know if this is sinister.
It's hardly a coincidence with Jack Cullen at the helm.
He isn't running the show, we are.
I watched him kick a man to death for the sake of a £20 bet and this has his boot prints all over it.
We're at your service, should you need us.
This is a police matter, thank you.
And what's she doing here? Be nice, she's got something for you.
- What's this? - Classified.
- Then why are you giving it to me? - It's a file we have on William Gracey.
- So? - He was an active Loyalist paramilitary.
He and one Jack Cullen were said to be involved in the murder of a bookie - James Weir.
I can feel myself becoming deliriously happy.
Officially, Cullen went missing.
He's the dicker, spotting for the Republicans.
Sure? - Yes, I was gonna slot the bastard.
- Just as well you didn't.
He's one of ours, a double agent working for Group.
Seven years he's been under.
That's a long time.
He now calls himself Jack Doyle.
He's risen to the lofty ranks of OC in Dundalk.
And how do you know he hasn't turned native? Henno, if Jamie's still alive, Jack Cullen's gonna know where he is.
All right.
Alex, you haven't seen us.
Get your coat, you've pulled.
Come on, wee man, you don't get away from us that easy.
What were you told? What were your mission objectives? They know who you are.
They know everything about you.
- Yeah, yeah.
Come on, talk to us.
- Could've been any one of you.
- Any one of us, what? - Keep it down, will ye.
What do you owe Bill Gracey or the British government? I mean, why put yourself through this? Gracey killed my da.
They kicked him to death.
- The bullet, that was an afterthought.
- Someone talked.
I won't.
Who talked? Jamie.
- Intelligence, they know.
- What's he saying? Someone talked, yeah? Your side, not ours.
Jesus.
They could be here any minute.
- The whole shebang's a set up.
- Calm yourself down, will ye? - He knows who the tout is.
- The man's playing with your mind.
- Mick's right, we're not safe here.
- Look at him.
He's laughing at yous.
Would we be standing here now if they had those details? It's a tout all right but we're safe here.
How can you be sure? Shaunessy? He's the logistics man.
He's your man.
Shaunessy's brother's doing life because of a tout.
Not him, think on.
Get himself a shovel.
You - you got yourself some digging to do.
- What's our cover? - We're tourists, sightseeing.
Paddy plod's no different from any plod.
All they're interested in is how much overtime and how much paperwork? We'll bluff it.
Bollocks, if we do get stopped, I'll shoot them.
Politics never was your strong point, was it? You gonna tell me what we're doing here? No.
I'm gonna tell you what you're doing here.
Keep the engine running.
Shit happens, don't wait for me, get gone.
- Where are you going? - Looking up an old friend.
- Jesus.
- Mary.
Who's that, Joseph? - You've some neck, coming round here.
- You married? - What's it to you? - Is your brother still active? - We're buying nothing.
- Are you mad? Who's running the safe houses in Armagh these days? - You still in the Parachute Regiment? - No.
Aw, Jesus.
You're not one of them bastards? I can always come inside and talk.
Do you think this will do any good? Well, appearances for appearances' sake.
We won't find Georgia Gracey and your man's long gone.
But in Ireland we like to play penny whistles and bang the drum.
Well, this can't all be for Jamie.
I don't believe it.
They'll never let us through.
How attached to that commission of yours are you? Be gentle with me.
Henno? Hold your fire.
- Does he know what he's doing? He's driving his way straight to a court martial.
So who's the bird? I'm a married man, she's a married woman.
- I mean in relation to why we're here.
- Her brother's a player.
- That's who we're waiting for? - No.
We're waiting for Matt Shaunessy.
And who's he when he's at home? Or when he's not.
He's a Republican intelligence officer.
Lives at number 19.
So we're just sitting here, like spam in the can.
- If you like.
- Meat on the beat.
- I'm gonna call for back up.
- No mobiles.
You never know who's scanning the airwaves.
They love it, they do.
They love it.
- Why the face like a smacked arse? - Why do you think? They run out of dry roasted? Do you mind if I don't laugh? Laugh, don't laugh.
Pay your money, you take your chances.
- Ricky, not now.
- What? Go on.
You wanna laugh at me.
- Laugh.
- Piss off.
Am I funny? How am I funny, Alex "I don't ever laugh", eh? Funny? You're not.
That's the point.
Feel better now? Go on, hit me if you wanna hit me.
Harder.
Harder.
Too hard.
You wanna bottle shit up inside, you're in the wrong outfit, the wrong regiment.
You got shit to say, you say it.
That's what we're here for.
You can talk to me.
I'm an approachable guy.
That's your cue to say something.
Speak nice.
Speak to me.
I was OK when it it was Sam.
Mm-hm.
Jamie's a mate, sure, but Sam Sam was my brother.
- So why do I feel like this? - Simple.
You had a body.
You had the facts.
You were there.
Don't ever tell anybody I've got a heart.
I'd have to kill you.
Can I stiff him? I want to be the one who stiffs him when the time comes.
When he talks you can do what you like to him.
This it? This is it.
What a shithole.
What were you expecting, leprechauns and donkey carts? Pint of lager, please.
And a white wine and soda.
Are you lost? - We were looking for somewhere to eat.
- Crisps and peanuts are all we have.
Yeah.
You could drive five minutes down the road to McCarthy's.
There's a fella in there plays the melodeon.
He'll play any tune you want for a pint of Harp and a pickled egg.
If it's cuisine you're looking for you could do worse.
Packie.
Leave the good people in peace.
Cheers.
Slàinte.
That's enough.
Get out.
Jesus, Fintan.
A corpse is a corpse.
Can we not show some respect? They shall grow not old as we that are left grow old Age shall not weary them nor the years condemn At the going down of the sun and in the morning We will remember them Very moving.
Strip.
What d'you reckon, Mick, is it deep enough? I'd say so.
And the pants.
Must be cold.
Either that or the SAS isn't all it's cracked up to be.
Lie on top of Kieran, there.
Face down.
May your God go with ye.
A sniper! We expected a sniper.
Back in a minute.
- Did ye have to? - Other hand up.
You coulda let me finish.
- You know who I am? - Not who, what.
- I knew as soon as I set eyes on ye.
- Then you know why I'm here.
You're wasting your time.
He's either dead or talking.
- If he's talking, he'd be better off dead.
- You know where they are? Your incursion across the border isn't sanctioned by your commanding officer.
So? You are jeopardising seven years of undercover intelligence.
Yeah, well maybe I think it's worth it.
Now where are they? Now if you are going to shoot me you really would be crossing the line.
And how do I know you haven't? South Armagh asked for Southern Command approval for a hit on Gracey.
He's a legitimate target.
So I gave my blessing to the boyos.
I then pass on what I know to Group who in turn pass it on to you.
Gracey's alive.
Three Republicans are dead.
Job done.
Three? See, we only found two.
Now, you blow my cover and we will have no control over who lives or dies in the North.
You square it any way you like.
I want the address and I want it now.
- Oi, Twammers.
- Pete.
- Uh? What? Nice arse.
That's no arse.
That's Georgia Gracey with Shaunessy.
No wonder the bastards were so well informed.
Sorry about your friend.
He wasn't my friend.
Comrade, then.
How about you? You prepared to die? Give your life to the cause? If I have to.
You got a girl? - What's it matter to you? - Just asking.
Well, don't.
There's a girl I like.
Could never tell her, though.
She's in a different league.
Don't put yourself down.
Never know.
Thought you weren't interested.
- In women, I mean.
- I'm a volunteer.
That comes first.
Yeah, I guess your diary gets pretty full.
This is my first operation.
- I gathered that.
- Meaning? You did better than me.
I puked on my first op.
- Yeah? - Yeah.
Listen, can you do me a favour? When the time comes I don't want to be shot by that Mick, I'd rather I want you to do it.
Up and through the mouth.
Won't be pretty.
But it's quick.
'Scuse me.
Don't I know you? I looked under nationalist scum in the Yellow Pages but you weren't listed.
Now we don't have much time so I'll be brief.
We know who you are, Shaunessy.
You don't know who we are.
She does.
Tell him, Georgia.
SAS.
Does she know who you are? Let me rephrase that.
Does she know you were measuring her father up for a wooden suit? - Matt? - Didn't think so.
When I remove my gun you're gonna talk and you're gonna tell me where the safe house is.
No answer.
Know where you're going? I think so.
What's that? Our insurance.
Cullen didn't tell you about the ambush, did he? That doesn't mean he's gone to the other side.
But you suspect he has.
After seven years undercover I wouldn't know who to trust.
Would you? I can't believe it.
I can't believe he'd do this to me.
He said he loved me.
- Where's the army boys? - Gone, sir.
Gone? Your dad? Were you close? He was a real character.
A header.
Full of stories.
He lost an eye when he was a kid.
Just fell and smashed it on the rock.
But he told everyone the B Specials did it.
Just for a laugh, like.
My da hated the B Specials.
- You miss him? - When he was gone? He was after drinking.
Coming back from the pub.
Four sheets to the wind.
Car stops.
Offers to give him a lift.
Two days on, they found his body in a ditch.
Everyone knew who did it, knew Gracey was involved.
But the RUCkers ignored the evidence.
You want justice in the Six Counties? It's at the end of an Armalite.
Don't get on with my dad - stepdad.
He hurt me once.
I swore no one'd ever hurt me again.
I can't let you destroy everything I've worked for.
Let me try and negotiate.
When did talking solve anything in Northern Ireland? I'm on your side remember.
If you compromise a safe house, Southern Command will ask questions and it won't take a genius to work out who the tout is.
Outside the ASU, I am the only one who knows where they are.
Not any more, you're not.
Mick.
Mick.
Jack.
You know, I've had that many guns pointed at me - It's just a precaution.
- As the actress said to the bishop.
How many? Feck ye.
How many? - Can you see him? - There's a car out there.
It's me, Jack Jack Doyle.
- Keep an eye on your friend.
- It'll be all right.
Stay calm.
OK? Take it easy, Fintan.
Nice of you to bring us a present.
Not a bad-looking whore.
There's an SAS man out there baying for your blood.
Why are you doing this, Jack? - She knows ye? - She's an army intelligence officer.
Shaunessy was not only plucking Gracey's flower, he was touting to this bitch.
- He set you up.
- Shaunessy? - Mick was right.
- Mick's dead.
Yer man got him.
I got her.
See who's willing to negotiate now.
Shit.
I wouldn't do that if I were you.
Getting a bullet in your head isn't a good way of proving he's out there.
- We're bollocksed.
- I knew your father.
He was a good man.
- What's going on, Fintan? - Jack's OC, Dundalk.
Jack's working for us.
Maybe I should cap the bitch now.
- You touch her - And what? - Jack, I know you're in there.
- What, he knows you too? - I'm unarmed, I just wanna talk.
- What's to say? - You were mates with Gracey.
- Fintan.
Do they know your real name? Do they know you're a Cullen? - Cullen? - Don't listen to him, it's a mind screw.
- No funny stuff.
- What are you doing? Move one step closer and I will blow her head off.
Come on your own? Big mistake, SAS man.
- Fintan, he said Cullen.
- My name is Doyle.
All those years undercover.
Must have been difficult.
Making friends, betraying them, making new friends.
You were selective.
Careful what you leaked, what you kept to yourself.
That's why you never told Group about the ambush.
They called us in because they can't trust you any more.
It would have suited you if Gracey had been killed, one less betrayal to worry about.
- Fintan, shoot him.
- Sean, cover me.
If you didn't say anything that'd come on top, Group'd think you'd been turned.
Paranoia sets in.
Even you don't know whose side you're on any more! - I am your OC.
I am not the enemy.
- My da! - Keep out of this.
- You were there when he was killed.
Your father had a big mouth.
He opened it once too often.
The prods did for him.
My da was kicked and beaten to death.
Bill Gracey and a man named Cullen.
Cullen is dead.
My name is Doyle.
D-O-Y-L-E Why'd you come here, Jack? I mean, you never get involved, not in operations, so why now? Hands behind your head.
Turn round.
Turn round! Well now.
Would you look at that.
Would you trust a word that man says? Do you think we never see a movie in Ireland? - He had me falling for that.
- And the PPK at your ankle.
- Standard issue.
- Still got your UDR tattoo? Cullen! Yippee-ki-ay.
- This will be hard to square away.
- You'll think of something.
You're an officer.
You should know better.
I've had words.
The Garda are willing to turn a blind eye as long as they can take the credit.
And what about Gracey, does he get away with murder? Seven years ago, James Weir didn't pay out on a bet.
Gracey watched as Cullen kicked him to within an inch of his life.
Then Cullen made Gracey shoot Weir.
He was used to following orders.
It wasn't anything political.
It wasn't sectarian.
Just simple greed.
But it was covered up.
So, tell me, did we recruit Cullen before or after he became a murderer? Lucky we were passing by.
I should look up old friends more often.
All he wanted was revenge.
Not political at all.
Just a kid who lost his dad.
Yeah, well he can be with him now.
What size boots do you take? Eights.
Why? Just for future reference.
Trying to figure it out.
What? Who's got more hair.
You or Bruce Willis.