A mysterious hired gun has a barcode tattoo on his bald head. In lieu of a name, he is number 47. Living like a chaste monk while slipping past borders to kill his targets, 47 moves like a determined shark. He speaks softly to his contact at the enigmatic "Organization, " which raises cast-off children to become well-paid assassins. Fruitlessly pursued by an Interpol cop who can never get sovereign governments to cooperate, 47 has no trouble slipping...