Original subtitles

- Watch your step, please. - WOMAN: Thank you.

Top of the mornin' to you, Missy.

I was thinking the old folk might appreciate a drop

of the good stuff to go along with their picnic.

Well, I don't know.

On the house, Missy.

Compliments of McCarron's Pub.

Oh, come on, now.

What McCarron doesn't know, he can't be crying over.

It's very kind of you.

Off you go, now.

? Darling, I am growing old ?

? Silver threads among the gold ?

? Shine upon my brow today ?

(distant): ? Time is fading fast away. ?

(singing continues indistinctly in distance)

Why does it have to be the old folk, McCarron?

Catholics and Protestants, Loyalists and Republicans,

North and South... it's a good round mix, O'Rourke.

A good, round mix.

? Shine upon my brow today ?

? Time is fading fast away... ?

Old people.

There's no luck in harming old people.

You're a superstitious fool, O'Rourke.

(theme music playing)

(horn blowing)

(hissing)

I remember a stretch of the Trans Siberian Railroad.

It was really something.

Yeah, I know what you mean.

It'd be freezing in winter and a furnace in summer.

Yeah, it's a wonder the fireman ever survived the trip.

And they called it the romance of steam.

Take a look at the detail in that locomotive over there.

(blip)

(beeping)

MALE VOICE: Good morning, Jim.

When this bus exploded,

nine elderly people on a picnic outing lost their lives.

The sectarian hatreds which have torn Ireland over the centuries

have been re-ignited in Bally-Na-Gragh,

with each side accusing the other of this

dreadful act of carnage.

Brian McCarron, who purchased a Bally-Na-Gragh hotel

six months ago, is secretly an arms dealer

that has no compunction in selling to both sides.

We believe that McCarron was responsible for the deaths

of the old people,

and that this was just one more foul deed by him

to provoke violence and provide a greater market

for his illegal arms.

Your mission, Jim, should you decide to accept it,

is to bring McCarron to justice, end his trade in arms,

and bring the warring factions of Bally-Na-Gragh

to the conference table.

As always, should you or any of your IM Force

be caught or killed, the Secretary will disavow

any knowledge of your actions.

This disc will self-destruct in five seconds.

Good luck, Jim.

(rapid beeping)

This lighthouse will make a great command post.

Luckily, it's automated,

so nobody'll be around to disturb us.

PHELPS: Each of these men lost a close relative

in the attack on the bus.

The one on the left is Michael Skelton.

He's a schoolteacher and a Republican.

Yes, the other is Jamie Kearney.

Now, he works a small farm outside of Bally-Na-Gragh.

Like Skelton, he's married with a young family.

Unlike Skelton, he's a staunch supporter

of the government in Ulster

and has no time for Republicans.

Well, how do Kearney and Skelton fit into this picture?

Well, since the bombing of the bus, they've both become

leaders of the opposing factions.

Yeah, they're both hot-blooded young firebrands,

but they're decent, honest patriots,

each convinced of the justice of his own cause.

And, of course, they're caught up in the crazy politics

of an eye for an eye.

And kept on the boil

by this arms dealer, McCarron, and his murderers.

So, McCarron profits from fostering trouble,

then cashes in on Kearney and Skelton's bitterness.

Exactly.

As long as he's there to fan the hatreds

and keep up the cycle of revenge,

those two will remain enemies.

We have to change that.

Shannon, I know you sing like a dream.

How's your Irish accent?

I don't think I could sound like an Irish colleen

to save my life.

Well, that's exactly why you may have to.

Come on, let's show her our appreciation, sir.

Oh, come on.

Let's show our appreciation.

Ah, thank you, kindly, sir.

True lover of music.

Is there anything else you'd like us to sing, sir?

Do you know "The Rising of the Moon"?

MAN: Hey.

You call for that rabble-rousing trash around here,

Michael Skelton, and you'll regret it.

Who are you calling rabble, James Kearney,

you British lackey?

- (men murmuring) - MAN: You lackey!

You! Kearney.

Keep to your side of the line.

And you, Michael Skelton.

You can fight like Kilkenny cats outside,

and worse luck to you both.

But you'll not be breaking up Mr. McCarron's pub.

(men murmuring, grumbling)

Would you like me to sing it with you?

Ah, maybe we should stick to "Silver Threads Among the Gold."

Aye... that's what the old folk were singing

when they were killed.

O'ROURKE: Can I be of service, gents?

Yes, thank you.

One stout and one scotch whiskey.

McCARRON: That is a fine piece now.

Russian-made.

As supplied to the officers in the Red Army themselves.

We're defending our rights, McCarron,

not fighting a war.

Are you not, now?

That's not what your Michael Skelton thinks.

Aye, you sell to them, too.

Both sides against the middle, so long as there's

a profit in it, right, McCarron?

The pistols are 100 pound apiece,

while I'm in a good mood.

I haven't got much choice.

I'll take six.

Michael Skelton and his boys took a dozen.

A dozen?

And where would I get 1,200 pound?

I trust you, Jamie lad.

You've got till Friday to find the money.

Ladies and gentlemen. Ladies and gentlemen.

May I have a moment of your attention, please?

In my hand here, I hold a 50-pound note.

50 pounds for the taking.

And I'd be happy to buy a drink

for every lady and gentleman in this pub today,

provided there's one among you

willing to wage ten pounds of his own.

Ten pounds against my 50 that he can beat my boy here

in a fair and honest fistfight.

I'll be accepting side wagers, of course.

Now, who will it be?

What about you? Huh?

MAN: Go on.

MAN 2: Come on, son.

MAN 3: Come on, now. Come on, now.

Hey, what about you?

You afraid to lose ten pounds?

PHELPS: Gentlemen, gentlemen.

Come, come.

50 pounds for ten.

Who will it be?

I'll fight him.

You, sir, come right up here.

Your money, sir.

Ten pounds.

Winner takes all.

Winner takes all... it's a bet.

MAN: All right, let's go.

PHELPS: Make it good, boys.

(crowd clamoring)

What the hell was that?

Just making it look good, buddy.

Right. How's this look?

(Max groaning)

They're like the Irish.

They'd rather fight than feed.

(clamoring continues outside)

MAX: Come on, get up!

Time to take a dive, Max.

MAX: Right.

60 pounds. Come on.

Well, now, uh, maybe you'd like to try it again.

Double or nothing?

All right, everybody.

Our friend here is buying.

Fella, you and I should talk.

Oh!

Well, you're a fine big broth of a man, now, Mr. O'Rourke.

Well, I suppose bigger than most.

SHANNON: None of those terrible things

would frighten you.

What terrible things?

Well, the happenings, at night.

Happenings?

They say the Coach of Death's been galloping

back and forth, back and forth,

out near the old ruined church,

searching for the poor lost souls of the old folk.

You mean people have seen it?

Coach of Death?

Well, every night.

And heard the Banshee crying and wailing.

They'll be more deaths to come when the Banshee's heard.

They should never have hurt the old ones.

MAN: She's right.

Never hurt the old people.

Old people are too close.

Close? To what?

To crossing over.

They say that when you're close to death's door,

like the old folk,

and you're taken before time,

they give you the key.

The key?

The key, man!

The key!

The fairy key.

To come and go.

Oh, you can't come back from the dead.

Laughing, is it?

Whoever hurt the old people,

they'll not be laughing.

SHANNON: Last night, I heard the wailing

and the keening.

As though all the world was mourning its dead.

Did you not hear it?

Crying like the winter wind?

(quietly): The Banshee...

All right, let's have some drinks for my friends here.

Well, you certainly know how to handle yourself, young man.

Yeah?

He got lucky.

Yes, I noticed that...

several times.

Gentlemen!

Here's to you!

Now, what is it

that brings you to this fair Emerald Isle?

Well, six months in the stokehold of a tramp steamer

is plenty enough for any man.

I jumped ship in Belfast,

made my way south.

Yeah, with the police at your heels.

Ah, Bill, that's none of our business.

But I do want to ask you a question.

Obviously, you're a fighting man.

Are you familiar with weapons?

GRANT: Mr.,

I can strip a Browning Automatic in 35 seconds.

I can group six shots in a three-inch target

from 300 yards with a M-1 carbine.

You give me an Uzi...

I'll cut a door in that wall over there in five seconds flat.

Yeah... yeah, I've handled weapons.

So?

PHELPS: So, I'm offering you a job.

Doing what?

Well, it isn't the fighter that makes the money, son.

It's the man who puts him into the ring.

Forgive me interrupting, gentlemen,

but I wonder if you'd let me buy you a drink?

I thought it was an Irish saying,

"Curiosity killed the cat."

I've got a reason for asking questions,

but it's not curiosity.

Maybe I can put a little money your way.

We're certainly not averse

to a little friendly business discussion.

Ah, I should tell you in answer to your question,

that we have had some dealings

in some of the trouble spots around the world.

Cuba comes to mind, in my case.

El Salvador... there was one of my favorite places.

Lovely climate, lovely people.

MAX: I like Nicaragua.

And Colombia.

Yes, well, Colombia...

we did have to leave there in quite a hurry,

but we made some reasonable sales.

And what was it you were selling?

Arms, McCarron.

Guns.

O'Rourke, bring another round.

I didn't mean to pry,

but I do a little dealing myself.

Maybe, if we became partners,

we could open up new markets together...

the towns, the counties,

then, maybe the whole country.

I've seen your bloody dealings in Africa.

That was enough for me.

You can count me out.

That young man has a great deal

of knowledge now about us all.

Too much, I think.

I can fix it.

PHELPS: Yes, perhaps you'd better.

McCARRON: Just a minute.

You can use this.

Ah, for sure, there's so much shooting

goes on around here.

Another small pop won't be noticed.

Go with him, O'Rourke.

And take the shotgun from behind the bar.

Just to be sure.

MAX: I don't need anyone's help.

Humor me, lad.

- There he is! - Yeah, I see him.

I'll take care of it.

Saints preserve me!

(groans)

Well, I don't think we need to worry about him anymore.

Maybe not.

That's why I'm here.

To make sure.

Yeah, do it.

I'd be happier if it were you.

Not that I believe that story.

What story?

Oh, it's just a superstition.

Go on. Shoot him.

What in the thunder are you talking about?

Uh, they say it's bad luck to shoot a black man.

Not that I believe it.

Go ahead.

Shoot him.

Why should I do it?

Because McCarron sent you to make sure.

Blast your eyes. You do it.

I told you, it's just a superstition.

Well, you do it. Go on!

All right.

Do you have to argue so damn hard?

I'm just making it look good.

Appreciate it.

I wouldn't go down there if I were you.

You won't like it.

(thunder rumbling)

What do you think you're doing?

I'll give you a little demonstration.

(click)

Watch what you're doing with that thing.

(click)

That was a stupid thing to do.

They're all the same: Defective.

You bought yourself a bunch of useless weapons.

Happens all the time.

And why are you being so helpful?

Well, McCarron, we are in the same trade.

Oh, they're beautiful.

NICHOLAS: Yes, our starring performers.

And these babies are going to be

the worst of McCarron's nightmares.

PHELPS: Let's show them.

The MAC-10 submachine gun.

By all that's holy.

The MAC-10,.45-caliber, selective fire,

blow-back bolt, cyclic rate of fire,

1,200 rounds per minute.

How much are they?

How many can you let me have?

They're 1,000 pounds apiece.

Minimum order of 50.

While I'm in a good mood.

Fifty?!

Where would I get 50,000 pounds?

Well, I trust you, McCarron.

You've got until Friday.

And if I can't raise the money?

Well, I may just go into business for myself.

Try that, and you wouldn't live a week.

Oh, I think we can take care of ourselves.

(thunder rumbling)

That was a terrible, evil thing to do,

shooting up the old people's bus.

OLD FOLKS (recorded): ? Silver threads among the gold ?

? Shine upon my brow today ?

(tape rewinds)

? Darling, I am growing old... ?

(insects chirping, owl hooting in distance)

What's the matter with you?

You been moaning around like a lovesick calf all night.

I didn't know about the keys.

About the old folk having keys.

What are you talking about, man?

The keys to... death's door.

And the black man.

It's bad cess to kill a black man.

You're crazy as a loon, O'Rourke.

You told me the big fella killed the black man.

But I was with him.

And I made the bomb that killed those old folk.

Ah, I'm sick of your blathering.

I'm off to bed.

It's bad luck, I'm telling you!

(whispers): I know it is.

Great.

Max, aim the projector exactly above the hill.

That's where we want to throw our first image.

And O'Rourke will get his first look at the Banshee.

(owl hooting in distance, wind whistling)

(beep)

(thunder crashing)

Not the dark!

Don't leave me in the dark!

(recorded): ? Darling ?

? I am growing old ?

? Silver threads among the gold ?

? Shine upon my brow today ?

? Time is fading... ?

(Banshee wails, thunder crashes)

(Banshee wails)

(screams)

O'ROURKE: No! No!

(beep)

(O'Rourke yells)

(Banshee moaning)

The Banshee!

Oh, please...

don't make me die!

O'ROURKE: I didn't mean to kill

those old people!

No, don't!

Saints preserve me!

O'ROURKE (sobbing): Oh, please...

have mercy on me!

Oh, preserve me up in heaven!

- (thunder crashing) - Please...

(O'Rourke moaning)

Ah, heaven above protect me.

What in heaven's name's going on down here?

What's all the ruckus?

Did you not hear her?

Did you not see the Banshee?

I heard a cat howling in the yard

and I heard you gibbering like a fool down here.

What's got into you, man?

She came for us, McCarron.

The Banshee.

(gasps)

We're gonna die.

Get hold of yourself!

Ah, if you've got no courage of your own,

take some from a bottle.

We're in trouble, McCarron.

We're profiting from death.

The death of the black man,

the death of the old people.

And she doesn't like it.

- (thunder rumbles) - Listen to me, O'Rourke.

I've got an opportunity of getting my hands on weapons

the likes of which they've never seen before.

I can make a fortune.

And not you, or old people, or banshees

are gonna stand in my way. Understand?

Understand?

They won't give up their guns, the strangers.

You can't afford to buy them.

Then, if we have to, we'll just take them.

Timing device.

Simple...

But effective.

I think it's time we issued invitations

to our two young Irish firebrands.

I'm going to turn around... slowly.

And you're not going to need that pitchfork.

I'll decide that.

Who are you?

Who I am doesn't matter.

It's what I've got that matters.

And what might that be?

Guns.

Not the rubbish McCarron sells you.

Real guns.

Bought all the guns we can afford.

Michael Skelton can afford them.

What in God's name does that man

think he's doing, building an army?

Why don't you come to the lighthouse and find out.

After dark, tonight.

SKELTON: Well, what the hell does Kearney think he's doing,

starting an army?

MAX: Why don't you come to the lighthouse and find out.

Tonight.

After dark.

SHANNON: ? You'd think she was queen of the land ?

? With her hair thrown over her shoulders ?

? Tied up with a black velvet band. ?

MAN: Charming, very charming.

You pretty thing!

Could I ask for a glass of lemonade, Mr. McCarron?

You can have whatever you can pay for.

The same applies to information.

What information?

They say that guns are being sold

out at the lighthouse,

after dark tonight.

Guns?

Who's selling guns?

You're asking a lot for a glass of lemonade.

O'Rourke.

Those two with the guns, they're double-crossing us...

dealing direct with my customers.

What can we do about that?

I'll tell you what we can do about it.

We can go over there tonight and blow them both away.

I don't think that's such a good idea.

They might use those machine guns on us.

Aye.

But we've got one weapon they haven't got, O'Rourke...

We've got surprise.

Your guest has arrived.

Well, we should welcome him.

(door closes, footsteps climbing stairs)

Well, come in, Kearney.

Where's the other one?

Do you mean me?

(Kearney groans)

(door closes)

(O'Rourke speaking indistinctly)

Where's your backbone, man? There's nothing to fear.

There's more to fear than you know.

Agh!

Skelton, come on in.

Kearney... well, what's he doing here?

(Skelton groans)

(engine chugging, knocking, backfiring)

(engine backfiring)

(engine turns off)

McCARRON: Never let me down before. Never!

Well, what'll we do now?

What do you think we do? We use Shanks's pony.

We walk!

(thunder crashing)

Weather's cooperating.

(grunts quietly)

- Kearney! - Skelton!

Well, what the hell's going on here?

If you guys look under the table,

you'll find your left legs manacled together.

Same as your left hands.

Now, you're not going anywhere, at least not for a while.

I don't know who you maniacs are,

- but by all that's holy... - Skelton...

if you look up, you'll see a key hanging from the rafter.

It is the key to both sets of handcuffs.

No way, buddy, you'll never reach it.

You damn near took the hand off me with your trying.

What the hell is going on here? And you shut your face, Kearney!

I'll shut yours for you!

If you could hold that, you can do that when we leave.

Let me explain what's going on.

In about two hours, that candle's gonna burn

down to the string, and that key is gonna fall on the table.

In the meantime, you guys have two hours to fill in.

Now, you can use that time for one of two things.

You can fight.

Or... you can talk.

I'd rather die than talk with the likes of him.

And I'll take him with me to hell.

And that's surely where you'll be going.

- (thunder crashes) - PHELPS: Gentlemen.

Holy Mother!

We brought you here to give you a chance.

A chance to think... to ask yourselves who benefits

from the killing, other than McCarron.

There's the dead... crying out for vengeance.

Like your grandfather?

My grandfather was a patriot.

He died for Ireland.

And what share of Ireland

did he get for his patriotism, Jamie?

He got six foot of cold wet ground

on the side of a boggy hill.

Thanks to the likes of him.

And you ask me to forget?

No, I don't ask you to forget.

I ask you to talk.

It's up to you.

(thunder crashing)

O'Rourke's car is broken down by now.

Now it's up to the Banshee to bring 'em to this ruined church.

- Help from the old people. - (beep)

OLD FOLKS (recorded): ? Darling ?

? I am growing old... ?

Did you hear that?

- Hear what? - Listen.

(singing continues)

Oh, God in heaven!

It's them!

The old people!

It's the old people singin'!

Get up, you cowardly cur.

Get up!

- (Banshee wailing) - McCARRON: What's that?

O'ROURKE: It's her.

(wailing grows louder)

There!

The Banshee!

Run!

Run for your life!

No! No!

Don't shoot! It's the Banshee!

I can make amends.

I'll-I'll run and warn them.

Won't be doing any more of your killing, McCarron.

I'm going to put a stop to it.

And then she'll leave me be.

- (Banshee wailing) - The Banshee'll leave me be!

I'll warn them!

- Come back, you coward! - I'm free!

I'm free! (laughing)

(yells in pain)

- (Banshee wailing) - (gasps)

(gun clicking)

(gasps)

No!

(yells)

- (wailing continues) - Oh, oh, no!

Oh, no, no... no!

(gasping)

All right, we'll wait.

But there'll be no talk.

You'll get no word from me, Skelton.

(thunder crashing)

Uh, uh, sanctuary... sanctuary!

- (moaning, wailing) - Sanctuary...

(groaning, shuddering)

Sanctuary... it's a church!

Sanctuary!

(screams)

Help me.

Help me, please!

Time to bring Kearney and Skelton into the act.

(beep)

(TV powers on) (sobbing)

- Sanctuary! - McCarron!

Aye. It's McCarron?

Forgive me my sins.

Forgive me my sins!

(wailing)

Now it's time for McCarron's worst nightmare.

Jim, it's time to ride.

(wailing)

Forgive me my sins. Oh!

(Banshee wailing)

The Coach. The Coach of Death.

(whip cracks)

(horses neighing)

(thunder crashes)

Brian Sean McCarron.

It's time to ride the Coach of Death.

No... don't take me.

Give me penance.

Oh, I confess.

I killed the old people.

It was me.

To keep the fighting going!

No... I won't come!

I won't come!

Give me penance.

Forgive me.

It was just to sell the guns.

I killed the old people just to sell the guns.

That's all.

He's made fools of us.

Kept us fighting, so we'd buy his guns.

He murdered innocent old people to do it.

We're as much to blame as he is.

(McCarron screams, cries over TV monitor)

A few minutes, and that key'll drop.

We'll find McCarron at the old church.

It's something we should do together.

Aye.

And, then... maybe... we'll talk.

(in eerie tone): Can I offer you a ride, Miss?

If you don't mind, I'll walk.

(chuckles)

That's exactly what McCarron said.

(door creaking)

(all laughing)

(horse whinnies)

(eerie howling in distance)

(theme music playing)

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