Crime thriller starring John Cusack, Rebecca Da Costa and Robert De Niro. Assassin Jack (Cusack) is given a new assignment by his ruthless boss Dragna (De Niro): he must collect a bag without looking inside it and stay at a motel until Dragna arrives. At the motel there are many suspicious characters who all seem to want to get their hands on the bag and the murder count rises as Jack protects its contents. He meets prostitute Rivka (Da Costa), who is hiding out in his room, and is unsure whether he can trust her but allows her to stay because she knows too much. When Dragna eventually comes to the motel Jack learns that there is more to the mission than he first realised...

Scooterboys are the lost tribe of British youth culture. Unrecognised, uncelebrated and unwanted; misunderstood by a general public who mistook us for Mods. We weren't Mods though. By the 1980s myself and tens of thousands of scooter riders collectively rejected that label. Instead, we took the roadmap of British youth disaffection and carved a new bypass. This route took us beyond the UK's faded seaside resorts, allowing us to spread our creed across the continents. Tuned and customised Vespa and Lambretta scooters gave us freedom to roam; transport to live for the weekend. Shared experiences of riots, local hostility and police harassment built strong fraternal bonds that endure to this day. Despite decades of two-wheeled rebellion our threat level was never high enough to put us on the national security radar. This low profile has its benefits. We aren't doomed to follow the same cycle as Mods. First feared, then pilloried, accepted and finally adopted as part of UK's rich culture. As British as a vindaloo. The cult of Scooterboy has escaped death-by-public-acceptance, simply by remaining too underground. Too difficult to distinguish from what came before. And that's just perfect. You'll never see Scooterboys parodied in TV insurance adverts or low budget fly-on-the-walls. The poorly-rendered caricature is always some cliche Mod on a 'Christmas Tree' scooter. If you rode to rallies in the 80s and 90s then this book will mirror your experiences. If you've never had a scooter then it offers a rare glimpse of life inside the lost tribe of two-stroke terrorists.