Original subtitles

Africans tell many tales about the Pygmies.

They are believed to have special powers and great wisdom.

Did you know that we speak French because of the Pygmies?

It's simple, really.

Why do we speak French?

- Perhaps you could help them, sir? - Of course.

Just like Italian, Spanish and Romanian,

French is a Latin language. It comes from Latin.

Thank you.

We speak French because

of Julius Caesar and the Romans.

But without the Pygmies, Julius Caesar would never have existed

because Rome would have been destroyed long before!

Enter another famous character, whom you all know.

As a child, he swore he would destroy Rome.

As a general, he knew that he'd need

a fearsome army to keep his pledge.

- The elephants. - Yes. And where were they from?

From Africa, my brother!

Right!

And that, my brother, is where the Pygmies come in.

Unlike Indian elephants, African elephants cannot be tamed.

Only the Pygmies have the secret, the Hop,

that makes it possible to control them.

Hannibal knew this, and he asked them to help him.

The Pygmies got the elephants across the Alps,

and it was thanks to them

that Hannibal won his greatest victory, at Lake Trasimene.

Hannibal managed to lure the Romans there,

between the mountains and the lake.

On the morning of the battle, he used the elephants for the first time.

The Romans panicked and attempted to flee.

But they were trapped. Their only chance was try to swim across the lake.

By nightfall, over 20,000 Romans lay at the bottom of the lake.

Hannibal was happy. He had won,

and Rome was defenseless.

But...

the color of the lake had changed.

The water had become blood red!

The Pygmies saw this as a sign, and refused to help Hannibal anymore.

Without his elephants, Hannibal hesitated,

then set off for Capua all the same. The Romans rallied and finally beat him.

So, because of the Pygmies,

Rome survived and Julius Caesar existed.

So, it's thanks to them that we speak French.

There. I've finished.

Any questions?

Yes. What's the Hop?

My mother gave me the secret. She was a Pygmy.

Naturally, I'm not going to tell you.

I don't know what you might do with it.

Can you really tame elephants?

Don't be stupid.

Are you going to watch the match tonight?

What do you think?

Have you got my M'Penza autograph?

Have you got the dough?

I'll see what I can do!

Nice try!

It's a pity they didn't go for the "essential equipment for professional purposes" bit.

What did you expect?

When you're drunk behind the wheel, and you insult the arresting officer,

- you've got to accept the consequences. - Yes, Daddy!

Count yourself lucky. They've only withdrawn your license for three weeks.

With your record...

I am eternally grateful to you.

I'd rather you paid me what you owe me.

Shall I give you a lift to the station?

Don't worry. There's no charge.

There's my "essential equipment for professional purposes."

I have to work to pay for your little toys.

Frans! Next time you're up shit creek,

don't come crying to me, okay?

Hello.

- Dad, you scared me! - What's this?

- It's so we can watch the match. - We can't afford to take risks.

So get rid of that. Now!

What did you get an "A" for?

French. My presentation.

Did they swallow that tale about the elephants?

What do you think?

- And that other "A"? - Maths.

History..."A," Geography..."A."

Go on, sign it.

Justin?

Make sure you tidy up after the match, okay?

Thanks, Dad.

It'd be sad to see an empty stadium for a match like this.

And the sad ones are the many spectators,

because it's been a very poor game.

You've got to be joking!

I don't get it. Every time there's a match, the TV goes on the blink.

A chance. A slight one.

The hope of a chance. Actions started and not finished...

and they've finally done it!

- Yeah, brilliant! - Extraordinary.

Emile M'Penza scores!

In effect, unstoppable.

Into the top right-hand corner. The net trembles

and M'Penza is happy.

He doesn't have to run the comb through his hair...

- Alphonse really made a mess of him! - You could ask for the same style.

Do you think Alphonse could get M'Penza's autograph for me?

I'll go.

We couldn't miss the beginning of the championship.

What do you want?

Nothing!

This is just a neighborly visit.

Look! Their reception's perfect.

Not surprising! They've got cable TV!

- I can explain. - Don't bother,

unless you want to explain to the cops.

Maybe we could arrange something.

He doesn't like cops. Okay, we'll make a deal.

Right.

This TV, is it yours,

or did you steal that too? Eh? Answer!

Please.

"Sir."

- "Please, sir." - Please, sir.

Please, sir.

Good boy.

Hop!

Are you crazy?

You could've killed me! Idiots!

It's important to get along with your neighbors.

Hey! That's my car! Are you crazy?

Come on, Justin.

Into the tunnel, Justin. Quick!

Run, Justin!

Stop, God damn it!

Did you see a young Black run this way?

I don't understand. He ran this way 10 seconds ago.

I was inside.

Besides, I'm not a police employee.

I see your brake light's not working.

About this tall, was he, your runaway?

He went that way.

Thanks.

So, I turned left into the Avenue de la Loi...

in the wrong direction.

In the wrong direction. And what do I see?

A car heading straight for me. I flash my headlights.

It was the cops!

They thought I was taunting them.

Would you do me a favor?

- What is it? - You know the hairdresser, in Matonge?

Alphonse?

- Yes. I've got a problem. - A deportation order?

- Yes. But they haven't got my name. - So what's the problem?

It's my son.

He's probably hiding at Alphonse's.

- They mustn't... - Blunder in and give the game away.

I get the picture.

Thanks.

Have you got any cash?

To cover expenses.

Only joking.

I'll go to Alphonse's as soon as I get out.

I always wanted to have my hair cut like M'Penza's.

- You took your time. - I had to fill her up.

Filled your own tank too, didn't you?

Tarzan! Down!

What the hell are you doing here?

- Cat got your tongue? - He doesn't understand.

You speak French, don't you?

Calm down, calm down.

All right?

Go and sit in the front.

I'll drop him off at the cops near the slaughterhouse.

Moise Patrice Joseph Kabila...

Kabila.

- Are you a relative of the President? - Not really, but l...

I know. In Africa, everyone's a relative of the President.

It's the same here.

Georges here, for example, is King Albert's cousin.

Really!

His aunt was a ballerina in Ostend,

and she did the pas de deux for Leopold II.

It's the same idea, see?

But, Mr. Kabila,

that doesn't explain why we found a school report,

signed by Dieudonn� Karikurubu, at your home.

What do you want? Political asylum?

I don't give a damn whether your name's

Karikurubu, Kabila or Kennedy.

Without papers, you get a deportation order, and five days to pack your bags.

So, stop messing around! Tell me your real name,

where the boy is, and let me get on with my job, okay?

But, Officer, I thought

you'd caught Dieudonn�.

I was only at his place to watch the match.

I panicked when the police arrived.

But I quickly gave myself up.

Dieudonn� stayed in the apartment.

- Aren't you the child's father? - No, I swear I'm not.

Where are we going?

Frans!

What's that?

That's Justin!

Justin, this is Gerda.

The police arrested his father, an illegal immigrant.

- Is there any coffee? - Excuse me?

Where's the bathroom, please?

Outside, in the shed.

You should have your cesspit emptied.

It's unbearable.

Are you going to keep him here?

No, I'll take him down to the station later.

Then what will he do?

That's not my problem.

But he's a minor.

You can't just throw him out on the street.

I know what you think of the police.

But that child needs news of his father

and the easiest way of getting it

is at the police station nearest his home.

What would you tell the cops, eh?

"I've got a Black kid here, no papers.

Have you seen his father, by any chance?"

Where do you live?

- Are you a relative? - No.

- Then I'm afraid I can't help you. - I'm his neighbor.

My cat was at his place yesterday,

when he was arrested. I haven't seen it since.

Your cat, eh?

Just a minute.

- Hello. - Hello, Georges.

Menga Jo.

Djedjiga Lbouzkakhti,

Kabila Moise.

Lubambu Tschilombo.

Sorry. We have no Karibu.

- He's not there. - Yes! They haven't got him!

They haven't got him, Frans!

Now what?

There.

Am I going to get a deportation order?

Not straightaway, Moise.

Something's not quite clear. Something about a cat.

A lady came in earlier.

She came about your friend Karikurubu.

She was worried about her cat, which was at his place. See?

- I don't understand. - So I got in touch with immigration.

They don't like it when things aren't crystal clear.

They discovered that your friend Karikurubu

received a deportation order four years ago.

- That's nothing to do with me! - Exactly what I told them.

But they want to invite you anyway.

It's not every day they meet the President's cousin.

So you'd better brush up on your family tree, Moise.

Right back to Adam, and even further than that.

Right back to the ape that climbed down out of the tree!

They like that sort of detail.

Sign this.

A cross will do.

I'd have done better to put him on the train.

Frans, please...

What? He can't understand.

What are you talking about?

He says he'll think of something.

Eat.

Chin up, Justin.

There's nothing to say your dad's with the police.

He may just be in hiding somewhere.

You're the only one who could guess where he'd be.

- So, think! - And eat!

You should go and see your lawyer.

- Boute? Again? - He's always got you out of trouble.

He'll be over the moon to see me,

what with all the money I owe him.

Have it your way.

I'm off.

Leave that, Frans. I'll be back tomorrow anyway.

- Good night, Justin. - Good night.

Goodbye, Frans.

Don't forget to empty that cesspit.

- She's not your wife? - No.

Married women want kids.

And kids are always asking questions.

And I hate questions. Got it?

You do the washing up.

The Devils have proved merciless.

All hopes are now on Emile M'Penza,

the hero of the day.

We're going to the stadium for news of Emile.

Jean? Can you hear me? Hello, Jean?

I got 18,000 for the two animals.

But I haven't had time...

to deliver them today.

I've had trouble with my truck.

I'll get round to it tomorrow. Bye.

I know where Dad is.

- He's at Alphonse's. - Who's he?

- M'Penza's hairdresser. - And who's M'Penza?

You've read all those books, and you don't even know who M'Penza is?

When will he come?

- Next week. - You say that every week.

This time it's true, I promise.

Is it for a haircut?

- I need to speak to you. - I'm listening.

Do you know a Dieudonn� Karikurubu?

- Karikurubu? - His son told me you cut his hair.

Does anyone here know a Karikurubu?

- Is he Congolese? - Don't be silly.

- That's not a Congolese name. - Senegalese, then?

No. It's a name from the lakes. Burundi, if you ask me.

- You always think you know best. - Burundi. Karikurubu.

- Mrs. Know-it-all... - All right, all right.

I'm sorry, sir. I don't know all my clients by name.

Thank you.

Here's my number.

If Dieudonn� contacts you, tell him to call me.

I will.

We'll call you. Don't you worry.

- He's a cop. - I knew it.

I knew it as soon as he walked in.

Wow, you're a real ace!

I've done this all my life.

My dad was a servant.

Where's Frans?

He had to see about some pigs. Then he was going to Alphonse's.

I'm sure Dad'll get in touch with him.

He'll ring as soon as he's got news.

Great.

If it was up to me, you could stay on here.

Would you like a coffee?

Yes, please.

- Where are you from? - Burundi.

But I've never really lived there.

When Mum died, Dad found work at the embassy.

That's how we ended up in Belgium.

- Your mother's dead? - She died when I was little.

That'll be Frans.

Yes, it's me.

Are you at Alphonse's?

It's not possible.

Yes, she's here.

He's going to see his lawyer.

He wants you to stay with me.

Karikurubu... Kabila.

Karikurubu... Kabila.

Kabila... Karikurubu.

- End of the line, citizen! - My son is in Belgium.

- Now we're getting to it. - Where is your boy?

- I don't know. - You don't know.

Let's speak frankly, Dieudonn�.

You don't mind if I call you that, do you?

Listen up, Dieudonn�,

tomorrow at 2:20 p.m., there's a flight for Bujumbura.

Two tickets are booked on that flight.

One for Karikurubu Dieudonn�,

and the other for Karikurubu Justin.

Understand?

So, you have a choice. You either tell us where Justin is,

and he leaves with you, or I use this,

a statement signed by you that your name is Kabila Moise,

citizen of the Democratic Republic of the Congo.

This Moise is booked on a plane

that leaves for Kinshasa at 9:30 a.m.

Each to his Promised Land, eh, Moise?

Bujumbura, Kinshasa, Kabila...

You've got until tomorrow at 8:00 a.m. To make up your mind, Dieudonn�.

- So? - You were right, about Boute.

My lawyer's taking care of everything.

He'll ring the police station at immigration.

We should know by tomorrow.

Meanwhile, you stay here.

The cops are still looking for you. Okay?

This is for you.

- What is it? - Open it and see.

This is for you.

It'll help you with the cesspit problem.

Thanks.

But this is for little kids.

I'm glad you went to Boute.

Yes. He also told me I was a sentimental old fool.

Thanks, Frans.

Is something bothering you?

What'll happen if your lawyer discovers that the cops have got Dad?

- Do you know what a lawyer is? - Not really.

It's someone who's paid to wear a black robe with a silly little collar,

and bug the hell out of the cops.

And Boute is the best there is at bugging the hell out of cops.

He's the M'Penza of ball-breakers.

They'll give you back your father

just to get him off their backs.

What if it doesn't work? Will they deport us?

You're forgetting one important thing, Justin.

You're here with me, and the cops don't know that.

They'll never deport a father without his child!

Are you sure?

If they do that...

we'll blow up the Atomium.

You're just saying that to make me feel better.

Look what's written here.

What is it?

Dynamite! Don't worry.

Without a detonator, nothing can happen.

See?

But when you put in a fuse...

boom! No more house!

But the craziest of all is Alfred Nobel.

- Who's he? - He's the guy who invented it!

He made a fortune by inundating the planet with explosives.

Then he came up with the Nobel peace prize.

Only a Protestant would dare pull a trick like that.

Begin, Arafat, Kissinger, Sadat, Mandela...

they all got the Nobel prize because they played

a lot with dynamite.

That's what this is about...

the border between the pathetic terrorist

and the peace prize,

the Nobel prize.

Feel better now?

Justin!

Justin, please!

Are you all right?

Leave me alone!

Well, Dieudonn�? We're listening.

You're going to pull a Hop on me, aren't you?

A Hop? What's that?

- Do you like hunting? - Yeah, I love it!

Well, listen, a Pygmy's only considered a man

when he has tamed an elephant.

What's that got to do with anything?

I'll explain.

It's a very difficult thing to do,

because the elephant is very strong, but above all,

he has an excellent sense of smell.

To get anywhere near one,

the hunter has to rub elephant droppings all over his body.

With a bit of luck, if the wind's right,

he should be able to get right underneath the elephant.

Then, he takes the rope from around his chest,

and looks up.

And what does he see?

The most magnificent pair of balls on God's good earth!

He slips the rope around the balls, and... Hop!

The elephant will do anything you ask him.

Today, you're the ones holding the rope.

Only I can't give you the answers to your questions.

I don't know where Justin is.

You can send me wherever you want.

I just hope that one day,

you'll find yourselves on the other end of the rope.

You're a real poet, Moise.

They say that Kinshasa is very beautiful...

the river, the allotments, the scents...

The smells...

I'm sure you'll find it inspiring.

Gerda?

Feeling better?

- What'll you tell Frans about the toilet? - The truth. Why?

I'm afraid he'll be angry and hand me over to the police.

No. Frans wouldn't do that.

He's not a bad guy, you know. You have to know how to handle him.

How did you meet him?

At the village caf�.

It was years ago, when he used to come down in the evening.

He was slim back then, with rugged good looks.

All the girls were crazy about him.

We even had this stupid bet...

the first one who was invited to dance

to Laisse mes Mains sur tes Hanches,

an old Adamo hit, had won.

I spent a fortune in that jukebox.

- And? - Nothing.

He was looking for someone to help around the house.

So I came.

- As his servant! - Is that it?

No one ever won the bet.

Frans is better at mulling over the past

than thinking about the future.

Go on, wash properly.

You've still got shit behind your ears.

Don't worry about the toilet. I'll handle it.

Very funny.

I told you to do something about that cesspit.

I didn't know the gases were that explosive!

You think that's funny, don't you?

It's not that bad really.

A Turkish toilet... very hygienic.

And a beautiful setting!

Justin, go and hide!

But he must have said something about Justin when they deported him.

They can't just deport a father without his child, surely.

I don't understand it either.

Well, what now?

We haven't got much choice.

The best thing to do

is to come with me to the juvenile magistrate.

They'll have to find your father.

This is the lawyer who's supposed to terrify the cops?

He forgot to wear his robe. He couldn't even keep Dad here for a day.

- Calm down, Justin. - It's not your father in the Congo!

Leave him, Frans!

He'll be back.

What if they pick him up?

- With my record, I'd be in a lot of trouble. - Is that all you can think about?

We shouldn't have let him go, Gerda.

Boute may still have been able to work things out.

By taking him to the cops?

You've changed your tune!

Think, Frans!

In the old days, you'd have found a solution!

What do you want me to do? Start a revolution for that kid?

Don't be so stupid. Not with me.

Your lawyer's right. I have to go to the police.

Could you drive me there tomorrow?

Is that really what you want?

I have to find my father.

"Dear Gerda, dear Frans,

First of all, thanks for all you've done for me.

When I heard you fighting last night,

I realized it was because of me.

I think it's best if I go to the police by myself.

That way I won't be a bother to you anymore."

This one costs 3,500.

I'd like two like that, with prepaid cards.

They're for my mum and dad.

He hasn't even got any money!

Do you realize that?

Give me a hand!

Don't just stand there, you'll take root!

- What with? - Give me your lighter.

- Why? - To make your coffee.

Matches... haven't you got any matches?

Matches!

I don't think the boy's penniless.

- He's helped himself! - We must call Boute, Frans!

He may still be able to do something.

I don't understand what's gotten into him.

God damn it!

What's wrong?

I'm going to buy a lighter.

Look at the beautiful view, children. We can see all of Brussels.

The big building is the Law Courts.

The Law Courts were built in 1883 by Joseph Poelaert.

The building is huge and here are held the most trials per year...

Camille, hurry up.

- Both on the European and Belgian level.

Come along, children.

Get a move on, Sylvain. Good.

- Hurry up, Arnaud. - Use the stairs, please, sir.

Have you seen a Black kid, about 12?

No, sir. Too many people around. Take the stairs up.

Justin!

Hello? Excuse me.

Justin!

You could have killed me. Do you realize that?

Where are you?

Are you completely crazy?

There are people in there. You think this will bring your dad back?

I wanted to make my mark, before giving myself up.

- They deserve it! - Who?

The group of Japanese tourists who've saved 10 years for this trip?

It was your idea. But you haven't got the balls to do it!

It's easier to write a book about the Nobel prize.

What's your solution?

Driving me to the cops like a pig to the slaughterhouse?

Come on.

Where?

We're going to get your father back.

We've got to choose a target, symbolic if possible.

Cops are intimidated by culture.

Now, take out the card...

and close it up again. It's quite safe, now.

We're not going to blow anything up.

We just show them that we could if we wanted to.

- Understand? - Will it work?

We can give it a try.

But swear you won't do anything stupid on your own again!

I promise.

We'll not tell Gerda.

I'll tell her Boute's looking for a solution.

Dynamite... it makes her nervous.

- What about the target? - One thing at a time.

- It's brilliant! - What?

Do you know what the Hop is?

Everything's ready.

Let's do it!

Careful, everybody!

Three, two, one, fire!

This can be considered a serious warning from the Greens,

for all the parties of the Rainbow majority.

In sports, Justine Henin has just won the Filderstad championship,

thus confirming her excellent start to the season.

Not a word about it.

Perfect!

I just wish I could have seen their faces when they got the message.

Coffee?

Has Boute been in touch?

He'll call.

This is the first warning

from the Anarchistic Pygmy Revolutionary Front.

The APRF strikes where and when it wants.

Anarchistic Pygmy Revolutionary Front!

It doesn't make sense. They make no demands,

and they didn't even put a card in the mobile.

I have no reports of Pygmy activist groups. Not even a non-profit organization!

I contacted Interpol. They think it's some Belgian joke.

With dynamite? No, these are pros.

They don't take any risks. They're sending us a message.

- Yes. But what? - It's our job to find out.

Adrien, you shake up the anarchists and bring in the first informer

who won't look you in the eye.

Simon, you go for Matonge, the detention centers, the Petit Ch�teau,

and all who gravitate around them.

Have every Black under 5'2" tailed.

I want to know everything about Pygmies...

by tomorrow!

It's a well-known fact, dynamite makes women nervous.

Cretin!

- "A"? - Yes.

There, at least it'll be of some use.

What's metaphysics?

It tries to answer three fundamental questions:

Where are you from? Who are you? And where are you going?

Gerda's nice, isn't she?

Do you think she's pretty?

What are you getting at?

Well, she quite likes you.

- Did she tell you that? - Yes. And some other stuff.

She said she wanted to dance with you, and that you didn't dare!

Just concentrate on what you're doing.

So, he takes the rope from around his chest,

and looks up.

And what do you think he sees?

The most magnificent pair of balls on God's good earth!

He slips the rope around the balls, and... Hop!

The elephant will do anything he's asked.

Today, you're the ones holding the rope.

But I can't answer any of your questions...

- Where was he sent? - To the Congo.

He was clearly being provocative.

Have you got children?

Here we see Emile M'Penza.

The Belgian team has pinned all their hopes on him.

The Italians are afraid of him.

So there's still hope... as long as the Belgians stick to their game,

and don't try to adapt their tactics to the opponents' game.

A draw would suit everyone.

Four points aren't enough to qualify, but a victory would probably...

It's Alphonse!

- What's going on? - You know more about it than me.

The cops are searching the Black neighborhoods for Justin,

and a group of Anarchistic Pygmies.

- Up to your old tricks, are you? - It was my idea.

- You be quiet! - I had to do something.

You said so yourself.

Frans, have you gone completely mad?

Gerda, it's a bluff. There's no real danger!

Anyway, they'll never come looking for us here.

Justin Karikurubu, of African origin.

At the time of his disappearance, he was wearing a blue jumper and jeans.

In connection with the same story,

the person who visited the police station in Rue Haute on June 7th,

is requested to get in touch with the station nearest to them.

Frans, the whole village will be calling.

...anyone with information... - Let's get out of here!

...can call 080041269, 080041269.

They mustn't find anything here, or the game'll be up.

Don't worry. I'm not going to blow anything up.

Go.

I'll keep them busy.

There must be Black kids all over Belgium.

238 calls already!

He's been seen in Duinbergen, Kalmthout, Lamormenil, Wenduine...

not to mention the cities. Some even saw him at the Atomium!

Bingo! We've got the girl! Gerda Van Hove.

- Eight calls from one village! - Gerda who?

Van Hove. Two words, spelt with an "H."

- She has no record. - And Misonne? Frans Misonne.

Wait, I've got to tell you something.

Frans Misonne, member of the MCC,

Militant Communist Cells, aka the "pressure cooker" group,

because they liked to explode pressure cookers full of dynamite

outside American multinationals, in the '80s.

Misonne was suspected of being their bomb expert.

Questioned during Operation Mammoth.

He got five years with parole, because we had no proof,

and because his lawyer was a major pain in the ass.

Lawyer or not, his goose is cooked this time.

I should hope so. Do you remember how it all ended?

Three dead.

I warned the police myself.

And the idiots did nothing to evacuate the place.

Do you want to call it off?

I've got a score to settle.

We'll make them bring your father back!

- Where are we going? - To the countryside.

Is that all you could get?

It�ll do for five days.

By then, I hope it'll be over.

Do you think we really need sheets?

Same symbol, with a demand this time:

The return of Dieudonn� Karikurubu

and a promise of immunity for the blackmailers.

Two: Total media blackout.

Three: The procedure. Classic, in two phases.

First, a dedication "To the girl who won the bet about the Adamo song,"

in the radio program "Love Story,"

if we accept their demands.

Next, on the same program, another dedication:

"To those who won their bet," when Dieudonn� arrives in Belgium,

followed by a phone number.

Dieudonn� has to be on the line, free.

Lastly, the deadline: 48 hours from today,

otherwise...

How's the investigation going?

The house is surrounded, Minister.

There's little movement. They've dug in.

No neighbors. It's an ideal setting for intervention.

- Well, what are you waiting for? - Just one problem.

- The toilet. - What about the toilet?

It's outside. Only the woman uses it,

so we're not sure the others are there.

Minister, I think it would be wise to find the father.

Why are you looking for a target, if we're not blowing it up?

To stick a flag in it, and give them a fright!

They're no angels, you know!

They won't give you your dad back just like that.

For this to work, we have to be consistent...

no target means no threat,

no threat means no Dad!

Got it?

What is it?

A work of art.

And now, for the girl who won her bet,

Salvadore Adamo, "Laisse mes Mains sur tes Hanches."

Let's dance.

What the hell are you doing here?

- You're the boy they're looking for! - Justin, grab the bag! Quick!

Stay there.

Don't move! Stay where you are!

- Stay right there! - Run! Run!

Stay right there!

- Where is he? - In the kindergarten classroom.

The guard didn't want to leave.

He's sure he's going to be on the news.

I promised him a medal.

Apart from him and a few kids, no one saw a thing.

- Perfect. - What should we do? Take him in?

No. Let him stew for a while.

He's all right where he is.

- What about the kid? - He's gone.

Gerda's been very helpful.

She says the pressure cooker episode traumatized you,

that you've given up activism and devoted yourself to literature.

I'd like to believe her, but there's a problem.

The kid. Apparently, he hasn't got your scruples.

He's just been spotted at Spa, stealing a mobile phone.

Perhaps he's aiming for the Nobel prize. But he won't get it.

As soon as he uses that phone, we'll pinpoint him exactly.

We have the number this time. So don't count on him to save your bacon!

If you really don't want any explosions,

tell us the target.

If you do, I'll stress your sentimental side

in my report.

Take this.

It'll help you think.

Call your mother!

He's broken his bottle and wants to talk to his mummy.

Have you found the boy?

Not yet.

Then you're done for.

He has two cards,

and by now everything must be in place.

I'll tell you what the target is,

so you can evacuate the area this time.

I don't want any more deaths.

I'm listening.

- The dam at Gileppe. - You're bluffing!

He can't have more than four sticks of dynamite in that bag...

a firecracker against a dam.

Achilles.

Works of art always have a weakness.

The locks!

20 million p.s. I...

One well-placed firecracker, and boom!

I hope you've found his father.

Because Justin...

is a sentimental fool, too.

Attention! Attention! Evacuate immediately!

This is a Civilian Rescue announcement. I repeat,

this is a Civilian Rescue announcement.

Come on, come on. Hurry up!

I repeat, this is not an exercise.

Evacuate immediately! Take no personal belongings, no pets.

Rally point at the church square.

There's only the windmill and the two chalets left to check.

Civil Rescue want the mobile network open,

to communicate in case of panic.

Does he want us to parachute in life vests?

Get him on the line for me. I'll give him a piece of my mind.

Not necessary. He's done for.

What do you mean?

From here to here, it's 345 yards!

Say, 15 seconds per 100 yards,

that's a run of 60 seconds for the men on the intervention team.

- That's right. - So?

- What does the letter say? - To start the music with a dedication

- when the father is in Belgium. - And give the boy a number

where he can reach his dad.

He's got two cards and two mobiles,

one for the bomb, the other for himself.

If we start the music and give him a number, he'll call.

He can't talk to his dad, and explode the bomb at the same time.

"Hi Dad, is that you?" "Yes, Justin.

I'm so glad to hear you." "Did you have a good journey?"

"Yes, just fine."

That's already 15 seconds, and the intervention team is here.

At worst, he sees them.

By the time he's understood, hangs up,

decides to blow the bomb,

punches in the right number,

with the adrenaline pumping through his system,

and presses "ok," the bomb will already be disarmed.

It's a close call. But it can be done.

The father has to speak with him for over 65 seconds.

What if he won't?

We'll give him some incentive.

Mr. Karikurubu, welcome to Belgium.

- Where's Justin? - Let me explain.

If anything goes wrong, you won't recognize your son's body.

I understand, madam.

I must talk for over 65 seconds.

I don't know if I should thank you.

Sit down.

- Start the music. - And, for those who won their bet,

the most awaited phone number is

0475646251.

I repeat, 0475646251.

- Hello, Dad, is that you? - Yes.

- It's me, Justin. - I pulled the Hop on them, Dad.

- We've won! - Crest 63... 6,3... in the center.

You're wrong, Justin. Look down.

He would have seen them anyway. I won't lie to him.

What's happening, Dad? Aren't you free?

No, Justin. They brought me back to Belgium.

I'm in the tower, near the dam. They've promised to re-examine my case.

- You can stop now. - Rubbish, Dad!

They killed Frans. I've got to finish this. For him.

Frans?

He's here by my side!

Here he is.

Frans?

Dad?

Dad?

- Speak! - You're lying, Dad!

Tell the cops to back off, or it blows!

Do you hear me?

Look at the lake, Justin!

- What color is it? - What are you talking about?

45 seconds!

He's hung up.

The lock is clear!

Send in the dogs! I want him alive!

It's over.

C�sar! Brutus! Go!

Go on!

C�sar! Brutus! Down!

Anything to the left?

Anything to the right?

Delta to Mike.

The dogs are chasing cows, we've lost him.

He's covered himself with shit.

That's why the dogs have gone crazy.

Idiots!

What should I do with the father?

Take him in. He still has no papers.

And the roadblocks? The men aren't happy...

and the Mayor's wondering why we're still on full alert.

Dismantle them.

He's got no more explosive and nothing to eat. We'll soon spot him.

Could you get me some whiskey, please?

St�phane, hurry it up. There's a match on.

You're crazy to come here. The cops are looking for you everywhere.

I've got to see Emile.

He's resting before tomorrow's match.

I've got to talk to him. It's very important!

It's for my dad!

We'll see if he wants a blow-dry.

So it's my fault this happened?

- That's not what I meant. - I should hope not!

- What can I do? - Report in sick tomorrow.

You've got to be joking!

Everybody's counting on me. If we win, we're into the quarter-finals.

- That's precisely why we need you. - What can they do to you, eh?

At worst, you make a rapid recovery before the match.

Ronaldo does it all the time.

You're my last hope.

How do you intend to go about this?

We're going to pull a Hop on them. A real one!

There's just one thing, but you're not going to like it.

Tell me it isn't true.

It belongs to the Red Devil's center-forward.

He's in the hospital in great pain. Terrible stomach pains!

It seems he's been cursed.

Ridiculous! Don't tell me you believe in that rubbish?

Of course not.

- What are their demands? - The same as before, Minister.

To continue the kid's education in Belgium with his Dad,

and the release of Frans Misonne and Gerda Van Hove.

- Is that all? - He swears to keep the whole deal secret.

- Has the press got wind of this? - Not yet.

Maybe we could take into account

the humanitarian side of the affair.

After all, that's what I was elected for.

It's not every day you get into a quarter-finals,

especially as we're in the spotlight.

You know how malicious the media can be.

They make a song and dance when a hooligan gets beaten up.

It'd be a pity to give them an easy story...

a Pygmy curse,

a boy who wants to finish school,

a naturalized center-forward,

black magic, a failed deportation...

They'd have a field day!

Even I could make an explosive headline...

But I've never removed a curse.

- How on earth... - Don't ask me.

No, of course not.

Don't forget the terms. Absolute discretion, okay?

I've got your talismans and everything.

No, he must work alone.

- Mr. M'Penza. - It's him.

And Hop!

And Hop!

Bunch of idiots.

He won't be long.

M'Penza's return must be official by now.

Dad!

You are a great Pygmy.

What shall we do now?

There's one more thing to settle.

Look, there's M'Penza.

Not during the national anthem!

- What do you want? - Just a neighborly visit.

I'm sorry. Come in.

- After you. - Thank you.

- Great picture! - He's got cable TV.

- I can explain everything. - We're just here for the match.

Okay, that's enough.

Get out, or I'll call the cops.

Ask for Officer Taminiaux.

She'll be glad to meet the guy

who smashed that car the other day.

He doesn't like the cops.

Please, take a seat.

Thanks.

"Sir"!

"Thank you, sir."

Thank you, sir.

It's important to get along with your neighbors.

Hey, Justin!

Did you get my autograph?

No, I had a few metaphysical problems.

- Meta-what? - Metaphysical!

It consists of three important questions:

Who are you? Where are you from? Where are you going?

It's like your Hop. Just a load of rubbish!

Whatever you say!