Strike Back (2010–2018): Season 4, Episode 5 - Episode #4.5 - full transcript

The tracking of McKenna leads Section 20 to Budapest; At Dalton's funeral, Richmond learns that she has a son. Twenty acquires an optic drive with a message from al-Zuhari about an attack. It seems the IRA and Al-Zuhari have joined forces.

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Previously on Strike Back...

- I want to help you.
- You? Can help me?

To find Al-Zuhari.
To stop him.

- Mike, you all right?
- Shit.

Were you to meet Al-Zuhari?

- Sofia.
- Where's my husband?

He's truly sorry.

You've done it.
He's here, Rachel.

Rachel, get out of that house now.

Mairead MacKenna.

What the fuck is the real IRA
doing in the middle of this?



They spotted MacKenna.
She's heading for Budapest.

BUDAPEST, HUNGARY

Still playing soldiers, huh?

Haven't you heard?
The war's over.

You're here, aren't you?

We're planning something big.

Better keep that to
yourself then, huh?

Derry man obviously.

Born and bred.

Earth to earth,

ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

We therefore commit the body
of Rachel Dalton to the ground

in the sure and certain hope

of resurrection to eternal life.



Targets are boarding the tram.

Package is being delivered.

You have something for us?

Here.
My Hungarian clients

will be collecting their
shipment tomorrow night.

You sure put your heart and soul
into your work, special agent.

Don't they say, "If you're
gonna do something, do it right"?

- Yes, I think... I think
they do say that. - OK.

This contains a video file.

You have got the connections.
See they get it.

These guys like to see their
faces on the telly, all right?

- I have a new life out here.
I can't... - You will do this.

You heard the man.

- When?
- You will know.

Don't turn round.
Keep your mouth shut.

- Long time no see, Sean.
- Where the fuck did you come from?

Out of the past.

STRIKE BACK 4x05
Sub: dcdah; Edited: Szaki

- You're getting rusty, Sean.
- I'm legit now.

- I'm a businessman.
- Of course you are.

All those years running
guns into Belfast,

and now you supply from Budapest.

So tell me, who's on your
Christmas card list these days...

- Al-Zuhari?
- Never heard of him.

- What about Mairead McKenna?
- Who?

Soon as we knew she was headed for Budapest,
we pulled your phone records, Sean.

She rang you from
Beirut two days ago.

You're playing a very
dangerous game, Sean.

O'Riordan!

Hey! Fuck off!

Get back, or I'll shoot.

Contain!

I'm warning youse!

Get the fuck away from me!

- Go, go, go.
- Remember, we need him alive!

Hurry!

Irish, oi, oi!

Hey, hey, hey, hey.
Look, look, look.

- We just want to talk.
- Back off.

- No. Hey. We just want to talk.
- Back off!

- Get off me, you...
- Can I have your wig?

- Right here! Oi, fella!
- Get that thing off me!

- I love you, buddy.
- He's getting married.

- Shall we?
- Yeah. Go.

No! No!

There you go.

OK, ok!

- You want to die in a green wig?
- Come on, Sean.

- Come on.
- I said just please get me up.

Yeah, all right.

Come on, Sean. Talk
to me about McKenna.

- I only dealt with her crew.
- And what did they want?

Same thing they always want...
weapons and explosives.

Mm-hmm. More, more.

- That's your lot.
- Back over.

No, no!

- There you go, buddy. Like that?
- All right. I pointed them at arms shipment

coming into the switching yard
tomorrow night in Pest.

McKenna's going to ambush it.

Why the fuck did McKenna
kill Rachel Dalton?

Who the fuck is Rachel Dalton?

- Where can we find McKenna?
- She'll be there tomorrow night.

Yeah. Up you go.

Now you wouldn't lie
to me, would you, Sean?

I have grandchildren.

I swear to God it's
the honest truth.

- Search him.
- Yes, sir.

- Get your fucking hands off of me!
- Calm down, calm down.

Let's go for a walk.

Let's take a walk, big fella.

Kelly green giant, huh?

How you doing, folks?

- Boss!
- Ah, don't be silly, Sean.

Stupid fucker.

I'm out.

Shit.

BRITISH EMBASSY, BUDAPEST

You're not gonna chicken out on
me with those diamonds, are you?

- I don't know. - Come on, Mikey.
They're bad guy diamonds.

You hand them in, and our guys are gonna
give them back to the Lebanese authorities,

who are probably gonna
give them back to Hezbollah.

They're just gonna buy more
guns and kill more of our guys.

Well... So... we're
just breaking the cycle.

- Yeah. We're just doing everyone
a favor, aren't we? - Exactly.

- It's a messed up world.
- It certainly is.

Yeah. Speaking of which,

saw you and Martinez out there
having a little smoochy smooch.

- Just maintaining my cover, mate.
- Really? - Yeah.

- Doing a very good job.
- Oh. Well, cheers.

Glad to see you're finally
getting some action.

Identification, gentlemen.

Uh, hang on.
We're with...

Sergeants Scott and Stonebridge?

Her.

Stop, please.

- And you are?
- Out of your league.

Natalie Fisher.

We've set up your facility
in the embassy ballroom.

- Follow me.
- Thank you.

Two of yours, I believe.

How was it?

Bleak. The IRA give their
dead a better sendoff.

- Yeah. I still think we should have been there.
- Sadly we don't get to choose where we're sent.

- She had a son.
- No shit.

- Did you know?
- No. Not until after.

- We'll do what we can for the boy.
- What, because the army won't, right?

They're not the first family to pay
the price for what we do, Michael.

Sir.

Coming online.

- Hey, kid.
- Hi.

- How you doing?
- Uh, not good. Nicotine gum.

That shit doesn't work.
Try something else.

How's Switzerland?

Uh, it's a bit boring.
There's no gun battles.

Aw. I miss you guys.

Yeah. Mom here has been crying
into her pillow every night.

Yeah, it's true.

And you?

- I miss you a little.
- A lot.

- Ok.
- Oh. I'll see you later.

- Bye-bye.
- See you.

- Close the door.
- Glad you could join us, Leo.

We've decrypted the media
file found on O'Riordan's body.

The attack you have
witnessed in Europe today...

Al-Zuhari.

you have brought
on your own heads.

On the anniversary of
the martyrdom of Imam Ali,

Alayahis Salam,

you have tasted what we
must live with every day.

Until your governments
withdraw from all lands

where you are unwanted,

we and our brothers

from oppressed
nations of this earth

will rain the fire of
Allah on your heads.

Fuck you, too.

Kamali, this is for broadcast
after an attack, right?

Yeah, and at most,
we have 48 hours.

The holy day he refers
to is on Wednesday.

So we have an IRA man with
an Al-Zuhari communiqu?

and an arms shipment
that's about to be ambushed.

Leo, I need you here.

It's difficult.
Ester...

No. I need you here, Leo.

- I'll make arrangements.
- Thank you. I appreciate it.

All right. Listen up.

This isn't just a terrorist attack.

What we're looking at here
has been every operative's

worst nightmare
for the last decade...

the old enemy are joining
hands with the new.

So we prevent McKenna from
getting hold of those weapons,

we find out what
Al-Zuhari's playing at,

and we stop it.

- K?sz?n?m sz?pen.
- Fiver.

Afternoon!

Yo. There you go.

- Snooze you lose.
- We should drink to that.

That's what
we should drink to.

Enjoy.

- Is that what we're gonna drink to?
- We should drink to Dalton.

She was one of us.

God. Heh. Really?

You fucking kidding me?

She treated you like shit,

and God knows how many times
she nearly got all of us fucking killed.

Damian, if maybe we could
go through our time, maybe...

Oh, come on, dude.

We were always there, we
all fucking carried her.

Yeah. I know she's
got a little kid,

and I'm really sorry
for that little boy.

I'd be a fucking liar if I said
I wasn't glad she wasn't here.

Sorry. Next round's on me.

Szia! Ez az els? alkalom itt?
(Is this your first time here?)

I'm sorry. I don't speak Hungarian.

Haven't see you before.

First time in the city.

Do you work here in Budapest?

- Embassy.
- A diplomat.

Wow! That must be glamorous.

What exactly is it you do?

Endless receptions,
being hit on by

overexcited businessmen
away from home.

Every girl's dream, huh?

Hey.

Hey.

You were right about Dalton.

Thanks.

Old girlfriend?

Yeah.

She could have got
married, changed her name.

Yeah.

Look. Leave it with me.

Things we do
for our country, eh?

Whatever it takes.

You're a wee darling,
aren't you?

I'm sorry.

SWITCHING YARD, BUDAPEST

We know Al-Zuhari is
planning an imminent attack.

The arms shipment
O'Riordan told us about

arrives by train tonight.

If we don't stop McKenna's crew
getting their hands on those weapons,

we lose the only lead we
have of the Al-Zuhari attack,

so Colombia, Beirut will
all have been for nothing.

Guys, I need you on that train
before it reaches Budapest.

Martinez, you'll be waiting for them
at the switching yard, OK?

Bring me back McKenna alive.

There she is.

All right.

- I'm Butch, and you're Sundance.
- Sundance was faster.

Yeah, but Butch
was better looking.

Yeah, but Sundance
got the girl.

Good point.
You can't be Sundance.

- All right. Get the last car?
- Yeah. That's us, that's us.

Yeah. No one in here.

Bravo Two, are you in position?

There's two hobos on
board and on the way.

Roger. Sat coming online now.

Oi. Do you think Butch and
Sundance die at the end?

No, dude. They lived.

Just two men against
the entire Bolivian army.

Been there and done that, huh?

Well, they definitely lived.

They never found the bodies.

So those two just disappeared
with all that loot.

Yeah.

You know, sometimes,

you got to know
when you got to go.

All right. Let's get
the diamonds valued

but just out of
curiosity, that's all.

God knows, if we fall on our faces,
nobody's gonna pick us up.

That much is clear.

In position. Over.

Roger. Any activity? Over.

Negative. Out.

Hungarians are making the pickup.

Let's unload
and get out of here!

Come on, hurry up!

Mikey, I'm moving.

Good luck.

Unload them quickly!

Bring me that crate!

That's what we paid for!

They've got some
heavy-duty shit here.

There's no sign
of the Irish guys.

Hold up. I got a sniper at my 12

up on that bridge.

Good position if they ambush, huh?

X-ray confirmed.

Oh, fuck.

Put your fucking hands up.

Down on your knees.

emelj

Motherfucker.

Here's the fightin' Irish.

Please!

Please! Don't kill me!

Shit. They've finished
off the Hungarians.

Come on! Cops will be
all over this place soon!

I got a clear shot
at our primary target.

Put it in the lorry.
Where the fuck's Liam?

Two of her crew
are Middle Eastern.

Wait here. Move those
guns now! Quickly!

Target's on the move.

If you can, take her
alive, Bravo Two.

Copy that.

Move the fuck out!
You on fucking holiday?

- Come on. Let's go!
- Let's shift this.

Move it!
Come on. Let's go.

Shit! Liam!

- Fuck.
- Who the fuck's firing?

No!

Target acquired.

Get the truck and take us out!

Move it! Get out of here!

Get the truck, get the truck!

Boss, they're on the move.

The weapons are on the truck.

Do not let them get
away with those weapons.

Are you fucking kidding me?

Go, Mikey!

Take the shot.

Come on.

Take the shot.

Fuck.

Shit.

Shit.

BRITISH EMBASSY, BUDAPEST

Any news on the arms truck?

Nothing yet. Local police
have been alerted, an GCHQ...

We all miss sometimes, Mikey.
Happens to the best of us.

Yeah? Well, I had it.

Don't be too hard on yourself, dude.
It was dark, it was a moving target.

I said I fucking had it, Scott.

So you just felt like
getting a checkup, huh?

Yes. Yeah.

You must be the first man in history
to voluntarily visit a doctor.

It's just been
a while, that's all.

Routine blood sample. Results will be
passed to your CO in a couple of days.

Something bothering you,
sergeant?

No. No, nothing.

Anxiety, mood swings?

No, no, not that
I can think of.

I used to be Territorial
Army, two tours, Iraq.

My number. Any time
you want to talk.

Go on.

Back in the day,
the IRA used to

concentrate their minds
on an invisible flame

to resist interrogation.

You mean torture.

It wasn't the yanks
invented waterboarding.

You were using it
on us 40 years ago.

"Us"? That's interesting.

You're not IRA, Mairead.

If you were, you would
know the war's over.

The IRA... what
they settled for

we could have had 10
years before I was born.

So what are you?

Oh, don't tell me.
You're the Real IRA, hmm?

Do you really think
people believe that?

You serve there?

6 tours.

Armagh, mid-eighties?

You'd have met
my brother then.

Or maybe not.

You're still alive.

What were you doing
in Beirut, hmm?

You teaming up with some
like-minded jihadists?

You gonna bring Sharia
law to the 6 counties

and turn the North into
some Muslim caliphate?

Better the Muslims
than the British.

Oh, you don't really believe that.

Where are your boys?
Where's the truck?

When is this attack
going to take place?

It was the fucking
Brits took Mairead.

- Could smell the bastards.
- He's dying.

So he needs a fucking priest!

- The attack must go ahead.
- We'll get her out.

Got connections
in the consulate.

Father...

- He needs the last rites, father.
- There's no time for this.

Show some fucking respect!

We have a problem here.
You have to clean up your mess.

So tell me, Mairead,
why did you kill Major Dalton?

The girl in Beirut?

Bitch was in the wrong
place at the wrong time,

casualty of war.

And Sofia Abboud,
Al-Zuhari's wife?

She could have
compromised our operation.

What can you possibly get out
of working with these people?

I get to see
the look on your face

when you realize every
fucker you ever trod on

for the past thousand years has clubbed
together and is coming back to get you.

Come on.
Tell me about the target.

I can keep a secret.

Ask your brother.

- My brother's dead.
- I know.

He was picked up outside the Rock Bar
on the Falls Road by a loyalist hit squad.

You've done your research.
What you want, a gold star?

I was there.
Ooh. I knew your brother, Mairead.

It was my job to.

But you knew him personally,
you ran across him.

I ran him.

- What?
- You heard.

Your brother was a tout.

You dirty Brit bastard.

My brother was worth 10 of you.

He had you lot running scared,

the great SAS.

Everything you are you are
because of your brother,

and everything
you know about him

was a lie.

You're the liar.

Sir.

Think about that.

Local police just got a call
from a church in District 5.

One of their priests has been kidnapped
as he gave the last rites

to a man dying of gunshot wound.

Seems he was brought in
by an Arab and an Irishman.

- OK. Check it out.
- Yeah. Roger that.

- But give the Hungarians
operational control. - Will do.

The Irish Consulate has been on to
the ambassador. Get Natalie in here, will you?

She didn't come in today, sir.

- Hey, sergeant.
- Yeah?

Want to grab dinner sometime?

You know, nothing
too serious,

just some good food,
fine wine, and...

hot butt-naked sex.

You really think now's the
time to talk about that?

Well, given that we could
be dead in 60 seconds,

I'd say there's no
time like the present.

Befel?! (Get in!)

Go, go, go!
Go, go, go! Go!

You all right?

- Mikey?!
- Yeah. We're all right. You OK?

What the fuck was that?

Oh, yeah. Francie had
us running to the bank.

50 grand a year we pumped into
his account plus expenses.

Still...

it was money well spent.

- No strings attached?
- As long as we can go Dutch.

Yeah. Yeah, we can.

Shit.

Sneaky Irish bastards.

- Yeah. Pricks.
- Yeah, dude.

We got to get out
of this game, Mikey.

You know, if it's not the IRA,

it's just gonna be some
other fucker that gets us.

Dude, that was way too close,

way too fucking close.

- Yeah.
- Fuck!

Yes, it was.

This is bullshit.

Kid with a Mac could fake
this shit up in 10 minutes.

Yeah? Ok.

Try this.

Hey, Francie.

Just a little present from
Her Majesty's Government.

Two soldiers still walking the
streets because of you, Francie.

Thank you. Now you
have something for me?

An attack.

Tonight. Police
station in Cushendall.

Details are in there.

Francie, good man.

What are you doing?

The crew you're running only defer
to you because of who your brother was,

who they think he was.

Same reason the actual
IRA hasn't wiped you out.

You're Francie
McKenna's wee sister.

You're untouchable.

Let's see how well that
holds when I post this

on a Republican news
web site, shall we?

Better a child molester than
an informer, eh, Mairead?

The attack, when is it,

where is it?

Last chance, Mairead.

Colonel Locke?

A word.

- Would that be the Philip Locke?
- Please.

The ambassador's about to bring
a shitstorm down on your head.

The Irish Consulate know
that we're holding McKenna.

They're threatening to
take it to Number 10,

claim we're using the embassy
as a black site for illegal renditions.

She's assured them you're
going to take McKenna to London, now.

Are you serious?

An attack is about to take place,
and she is the only lead we have.

She has to go, Philip,

and it has to be official.

This is bullshit.

An imminent attack, and we can't
question the terrorist who's planning it

because we're in the
wrong fucking country?

Perhaps if your CIA
hadn't set up

its own global network
of torture franchises,

we wouldn't be in
this situation now.

As soon as the wheels go up
on that plane, I need you lot back here.

- Boss.
- Sir.

How's your son, Philip?
Be what now, 20, 25?

You mention my son again, and
I will kill you where you stand.

- Have you got that?
- Boss.

Get her in the car.

- You ride with her.
- What, was it something I said?

Get in.

All this for me.

Scare you boys, do I?

Don't normally think of rain
when you think of Beirut,

but I bet you do now.

She begged me for her life.

What was her
name... Dalton?

Like all of you boys, she was
better dishing it out than taking it.

OK. You know the score.
Diplomatic protocols apply.

Guns in lock boxes,
the whole 9 yards.

Yeah. We'll be sitting ducks.

- I need to use the bathroom.
- Hmm. Nice try, sweetheart.

You can do it on the plane.

I'm taking a prisoner back to the U.K.
These people are seeing me on the plane.

The paperwork's all here,
and our jet's on the runway over there.

I need to see everyone's
passports.

Thanks, Dad.

There's no record
of your arrival.

It was a diplomatic
flight from Beirut.

She has a passport?

- Oh, for God's sake.
- One minute, please.

Fucking joking, right?

Look. This woman is a wanted terrorist
who's being extradited to the U.K.

It's been cleared.
You need to read that.

I'm afraid I'm going to have to
ask you to wait here, gentlemen.

- Get me on that plane, or let me
use the bathroom. - Shut the fuck up.

Time of the month.
For God's sake, you're women.

Just take her.

Let's go.

I'm gonna need these off.

How am I supposed to go?

You'll figure it out.

It's all yours.

- OK. Everything seems in order.
- About fucking time.

- Let's go.
- Cheers.

- Your guns, please.
- I haven't got one.

Eh, just fucking with you.

- Here. Don't lose it.
- Step this way, sir.

Hold on.

Hurry up.

Right there.

- Step this way. - Ha! You find
his metal dildo? - Yeah. Thanks, mate.

- Where are those fucking girls?
- You can go through.

Move, move, move!

Come here, big guy.

On the balcony, Mikey!

Drop the gun. Do it.

- I'm moving!
- Go, Mike!

Now!

Thank you.

Stay there. Stay right
there. Don't move!

Shit.

Take the shot, Michael.

Mikey, take that shot!

Take it.

Don't even think about it,
you fucker. You're mine!

- Fuck!
- Fuck!

What the fuck, Mairead?
What are you doing?

Move it! Go! Now.

Fuck!

Go, man! Move!

Julia. Fuck.

Give me a fucking grenade!

Sub: dcdah; Edited: Szaki