Original subtitles

Your son lost my gold to Bob Fink.

Actually, Fink doesn't have it. He's dead.

The safe house on Rivington Street.

Take her to Elm Lodge.

It's a bit close to home, sir.

I don't intend to let this out of my sight.

And he said 30 hours to this exchange, right?

So that gives us enough time to track him down, right?

We got three phases... phase one is intel.

Phase two is the takedown.

Phase three is the getaway.

(tires screeching)

Where's my dad?

He's in the back of Jones's van.

Oh!

_

_

♪♪

(gulping)

(speaking French throughout) _

_

_

_

_

_

(men groaning)

(retching)

(man gagging outside)

(gunfire)

(splashing)

_

_

_

_

♪♪

(siren blaring)

(music continues)

Sync and corrections by explosiveskull www.addic7ed.com

♪♪

Coming to get you, Vic! Hang on in there, mate.

♪ I can't take much more of this now ♪

♪ Loving you is ahead of me ♪

♪ It's a bad love ♪

♪ Bad, bad love ♪

♪ Baby, I can't see a change ♪

♪ In my life I do the same ♪

♪ It's a bad love ♪

♪ Bad, bad love... ♪♪

Come on, come on!

(metal creaking)

You piece of shit thing.

- (line ringing) - Come on, Dad, pick up.

Come on, Dad, don't do this to me, pick up, pick up.

(bad signal chimes on phone)

- Shit. - He's probably got no signal

in the back of that metal box.

Well, I just hope it's not a metal coffin.

♪♪

Oh!

Well, I haven't seen you for a while.

♪♪

(phone chiming) _

- Albert. - Mum?

What's going on?

This is all kicked off, Mum, all right?

- We got rumbled. - And?

Norman got shot, Mum.

He's gone.

♪♪

God bless him.

Did you get the info on the exchange?

Yeah, we did. It's Liverpool Docks.

The buyer's name is Petru.

He's coming in from some place called Ajaccio.

He's gotta leave before the morning tide.

We're following Jones in the van now.

We're on our way.

- Albert? - Yeah?

Where's your father?

(Teri) I'll give it to them.

They've got some balls coming after us like that.

This Vic Hill, he's harder to kill than a cockroach.

Ain't no killing me.

(Jones) He's a relentless bastard, I'll give him that.

He almost took us down.

Your boys almost fell asleep on the job, Dwyer.

Well, at least all that spilt claret will give your wife

an excuse to redecorate Elm Lodge... again.

Leave the irony to the ironic, Dwyer.

You're engaged solely for your more... basic instincts.

If the cockroach want for take over the chicken,

it must hire fox as a henchman.

(chuckling menacingly)

One minute, girls.

♪ I know you live above the law ♪

♪♪

(gas hissing)

♪ I believe I'm not here like a ghost ♪

♪♪

♪ You're a lonesome guy ♪

♪ Looking for the gold ♪

♪♪

That's badass.

Right. Move it.

Or it's perms all around.

♪♪

♪ 'Cause you need to live alone, alone ♪

(crackling)

(gas hissing)

Good boy, Scooter.

Go on, have that. (Scooter whimpering)

♪ Yeah, show me the way... ♪

Al, just wondering...

what exactly are we gonna do when we get to the docks?

Disruption, extraction, escape.

Yeah, what do each of those phases entail exactly?

Well, that's the bit I'm still working on, Charlie.

♪♪

We getting anywhere, girls?

The Liverpool docks are massive.

12 kilometers long

and 4 million square feet of warehouses.

We need to narrow it down.

Where did Albert say it was departing from?

The Ajaccio, port city on the west coast of Corsica.

And the buyer's name is Petru.

Petru, a Christian name common in Finland,

- Romania, and Corsica! - Corsica!

Well, now we know where it's coming in from.

What we need to find out is what time and where it's docking.

Three hours till Liverpool.

Doesn't this tin can go any faster?

I'm thrashing her like a nag on Derby day, Charlie, all right?

You're welcome to get out and push.

(Scooter whimpering)

Sit. Paw. And spin around for me.

- (Scooter whimpers) - Down.

Who's a good boy?

Sit.

Jesus, this dog can do anything.

I swear, he must be police-trained or something.

Scooter, away.

Told ya.

He's a good boy, he's a good boy!

(Scooter whimpering)

Well, that could come in useful.

♪♪

(horns blaring)

Oh, shit.

Phone just died.

Oh, no worries.

Just by magic, I have another one.

Jesus, Charlie. How many phones have you got?

Oh, no, this is our old pal Bob Fink's.

You stealing a dead man's phone for?

That's a step too far, ain't it?

It's linked to his CCTV cameras in his flat.

I could use it as evidence when I sue the ass

out of the metropolitan police for being kidnapped

and beaten by one of their detectives.

Okay, wait a minute, that phone is linked to the CCTV

in Fink's flat.

Was it the same flat that Jones shot and murdered him in?

Well... now that you mention it, yeah.

Well, turn it on then. Let's have a gander.

Yeah.

- (beeping) _ - Oh, shit.

Time to get clever, chaps.

(chuckling menacingly)

We've got three cracks at this before it locks us out.

Seven letters.

"Bullion."

- Try "bullion." - Yeah?

It's a good a guess as any.

Bullion.

Access denied. Two left.

I found a website with all the boats

coming in and out of Liverpool.

It says where they're from and when and where they're docking.

Any sign of our Corsican friends?

Oh, there's hundreds of boats.

This is gonna take ages to go through.

Say the boys actually do boost the money.

How we going to escape, Lily?

It's not like The Flying Squad are gonna let us rock off

into the sunset without a fight.

We'll improvise as opportunities present themselves.

And if option "A" doesn't work,

then there's still 25 other letters of the alphabet,

- right, Lotti? - Right, Lily.

All right, so we had a proper obsession with my old man,

- didn't he? Try his name. - Worth a shot.

Vic Hill.

Huh, obviously not that obsessed.

Access denied. One left.

You know, if this all goes to plan,

I'll be beating the shit out of you in a paradise beach

for the rest of our days.

You're becoming needy, Dwyer.

It doesn't suit you.

You're a world-class prick... sir.

Thank you.

(engine starting)

Jesus Christ!

Shit! Vic Hill's pet Neanderthal.

I'm beginning to believe that their obsession with my gold

is bordering on the demented.

I'll put one between his eyes.

No! Let me deal with it.

(banging)

(tires screeching)

(chuckling menacingly)

Nice to see you again.

What did you say your name was?

Them call me Windrush.

Oh, yeah.

And who are you? Hate 'Em All Henry.

(chuckles)

Don't forget it.

Respect.

You have to earn my respect.

(both grunting)

Come on!

Time to cut up your ass, mate.

Now we're even.

(laughs) You want this?

(both grunting)

Ahh!

(laughing)

This shouldn't take long.

Ahh!

Oh, I see your way. Come on...

Come on...

- Yah! - Ahh!

(screaming)

Ah! Ahh!

Is that it?! (screaming)

Gotcha!

(both grunting)

(both screaming)

Ahhh... Ah!

(panting, growling)

Oh, shit!

Ahh! I'm gonna kill ya!

(growling, groaning)

Ahh!

(screaming)

Oh, my God! Ohh...

Last chance to crack it.

Get the ball. Go, Scooter.

Surely not.

_

Yeah, I got it.

- Yeah? - Yeah, it worked.

- Yeah. - Yeah.

Well done.

(Scooter sniffing)

Scooter... put that down

before you blow us all up.

Please, put that down.

Billy, what is going on back there?

Good boy, good boy.

Scooter, good boy, good boy.

He only went copped hold of one of these.

Oi!

Billy, how many of those pineapples you got back there?

I'd say about half a dozen.

♪ Like a wolf on my own-own-own-own-own ♪

♪ Own-own-own-own-own ♪

♪ I'm in the zone ♪

♪ Like a wolf on my own ♪

(phone dialing)

(Windrush muttering)

Yah!

(Windrush groaning)

(Hate 'Em screaming)

Aah!

(Windrush muttering)

(Hate 'Em moaning)

♪ Like a wolf on my own ♪

♪ Own-own-own-own own-own-own-own-own-own ♪

♪ I'm in my zone ♪

♪ Like a wolf on my own ♪

♪ Own-own-own-own ♪

♪ Creating the past ♪

♪ The past ♪

(Hate 'Em gagging)

(Hate 'Em groaning)

Hey, wait...

(machete clatters to ground)

Wait.

♪ ♪

One last smoke. Hang on, man.

Respect.

Fuck your respect!

(Windrush grunts)

(tires squeal)

(dog barking)

Hate 'Em?

Hate 'Em?

You all right, luv?

(Hate 'Em laughs)

Oh, I could murder a bacon sandwich, Mrs. H.

Come on, luv, let's get you up, eh?

Hang in there, big fella.

Chloe: I've got one.

The Panizzi, boat coming in from Corsica.

Registered to a Peter Shryer.

Peter, Petru. It's the same name!

- Yes! - Just in different countries!

Does it tell you where it's scheduled to dock?

Pier Nine, Dock Four in an hour.

Right, hold on to your tits, girls.

I've got into the CCTV footage.

- Little agendas. - Oh, well.

Jeez. (gunshot on video)

Yeah, all right, I'm not even sure

Fink deserved to go out like that.

Can you upload that?

Uh, yeah, I can try.

_

(cell phone ringing)

- Mum, what you got? - Pier nine, dock four.

The Corsicans dock in an hour, Albert.

Okay. Here's the deal.

Text my old man again.

Get him to send me a smoke signal or something, please.

Quickly.

_

(phone chimes) _

Yes!

Dad! Dad's all right.

_

(phone chimes) _

(Albert exhales deeply)

- _ - ♪♪

(men speaking French)

(Scooter whining)

So you boys know what you gotta do?

And you, you're with us now, isn't ya?

All right, well, let's do this, good luck.

(van door closes)

Corsicans.

Thank you for stating the obvious, Dwyer.

(man speaking French)

(man speaks French)

Chief Superintendent Jones.

Petru.

I see you've brought backup.

We're all gangsters, no?

Even if we hide behind uniforms.

The gold. It is in the van?

(Jones) It's close by.

But first,

we'll examine the money.

Make sure the ink is dry.

(Filippe chuckles)

Now this is, uh, English humor?

I prefer to call it English pragmatism.

(muttering in French)

Well, here goes nothing, then.

♪♪

♪ Help me, brother ♪

♪ I say, help me, friend ♪

♪ Hell's been goin' down ♪

♪ And I feel someone's gotta help ♪

♪ Help me ♪

♪ Help me out of here ♪

♪♪

Now... ze gold.

Heh!

Ze gold! Ooh la la!

Open the door, Dwyer.

Heads I win...

tails you lose.

Here's Victor!

(Vic laughing)

Don't move.

Oh, you lot really do need a new catchphrase.

All right, all right, all right... oof!

Unh! Ohh!

No need for hostility.

I come in peace.

You really are a monumental pain in the ass.

What the hell is this, Jones? Who's this man?

This man...

is a floater in the toilet of life.

Soon to be flushed.

I bet you a pile of dodgy metal

it all ends in Claret.

(gun cocks)

Right, Victor.

(whistling)

(Jones) What now?

(men speaking French)

(Jones) What is this, Dwyer?

(whistling continues)

(Scooter barks)

Un chien, un chien.

What the fuck is this?

- (Scooter whines) - No!

(man screams)

- Boss! You okay, boss? - Fuck! Fuck!

Aah! Unh!

(Scooter whines)

(laughing) It's a bomb-dog!

It's brilliant.

(Albert whistling)

Now who the hell is this?

Heh! He's my son, Albert.

- (cocks gun) - Ah-ah-ah!

One more move out of any of you,

and it's Christmas come early, comprende?

(speaking French) _

_

Now...

I've just come for me dad.

Bollocks to the gold. You can keep that.

It's all a bluff.

They want it all.

Either I leave with my old man right now,

or we all go up.

(cocks gun)

(Jones) No one's going anywhere.

Let him go, you fucking idiot.

There's enough grenades on this mutt

to take out all of us.

Go on.

(line jangles)

(Jones seething)

Put it down.

(Jones growls)

Oh, get up, Hill!

Oh, all right.

(Vic laughing)

Oh!

Au revoir.

(laughter continues)

- Trust me? - All the way, son.

There'll be no rock

big enough for you to hide under.

(chuckles) Oh, no, no.

I think it's you that's gonna need the rock,

Chief Superintendent Jones.

(police sirens wailing)

(guns clicking)

Albert?

(tires screeching)

You'll pay!

(speaking French) _

(overlapping shouting)

Dad, let's move.

(overlapping shouting)

Police, stay down!

(gunfire)

The money!

Shit!

(grinding)

Shit!

Go!

Aah!

(speaking French) _

- In the van, Charlie! - Fuck!

(indistinct shouting)

(starter stalls)

Start her up, Charlie!

Oh, God, no! The van won't start!

(gunfire)

(starter stalls)

Out! To the cop car! Come on!

Come on, come on, Charlie!

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

(gunfire)

(indistinct shouting)

Oh, come on, Charlie... just throw it in there!

♪ Go, go, go ♪

♪ Here we are, go, go, go ♪

♪ Here we are, go, go, go ♪

Get that gun!

♪ Go, go, go, here we are ♪

♪♪

- Get in! - There's no room, Charlie!

Vic: How do you suggest we do that?

Charlie, Dock 14, we'll meet you there!

Go, go!

♪♪

Police, stop, stop!

- (gunfire) - Aah! Aah!

Around there, boy, around there!

Hit it, Charlie, come on!

Whoa... they're getting away!

(tires screeching) (siren wailing)

(Charlie laughing)

♪ You can't touch me now ♪

Aah! Police!

♪ You can't touch me now ♪

(men screaming)

♪♪

(police sirens wailing)

Shit, they're gaining on us, Charlie!

♪♪

I said fast!

(both screaming)

Forward, ho!

(laughing)

- Aah! - Aah!

Aah!

♪♪

Where'd you learn to drive like this?

(police siren wailing)

Reverse, reverse, Charlie! Come on! Quicker!

♪ Don't make a sound ♪

♪ And I'm going nowhere ♪

♪ It's coming down, down ♪

(dog whimpering)

(police siren wailing)

They do not give up!

Easy, Charlie!

(both screaming)

- Oh, shit! - Oh, shit!

Oh, no!

(whistling)

(gun clicking)

Aah!

- What do we do now? - Oh, shit.

Come out of the car with your hands up!

You can pray for a bloody miracle.

- What's that? - Oh, sh...

(laughing)

Boy, we're really flying now, Charlie!

(tire hissing)

(laughing)

(laughing)

This is the life.

(helicopter whirring)

(gun clicking)

Hands above your head.

We've been planning this takedown for months, you idiot.

Chief Superintendent Jones,

I'm arresting you on suspicion of the murder

of D.I. Robert Fink.

D.I. Fink's murdered?

(chuckles)

What are you talking about?

There's a video been sent anonymously to us, sir.

CCTV footage of Fink's brains

painting the walls, you giving the order.

All these grudges,

these... seedy, little agendas.

Oh, well.

You do not have to say anything,

but it might harm your defense if you do not mention w...

(gunshot)

(distant police radio chatter)

(sighing)

You really are an animal, Dwyer.

The gold is by the water, sir.

(seagulls cawing)

Sailor boy.

(splash)

(grunting)

What are you doing with my gold, Petru?

It is my gold now.

You son of a...

Don't move, I'll shoot!

Drop your gun.

Oh.

- Don't be silly, son. - Drop your guns!

You bastard, sir.

(gunshot)

(gasping)

(helicopter whirring)

It's been excruciating, Dwyer.

(laughing)

Mum? Dock 14, right now.

We'll be there in a tic.

(engine rumbling)

Oi, son, you don't happen to have

another one of those grenades handy, do you?

Well, as it happens...

(booming)

If I can't have you, nobody can.

(laughing)

♪♪

Chop-chop, chop-chop, boys, come on.

(overlapping shouting)

Move it!

(laughter)

(overlapping shouting)

(overlapping shouting)

(women whooping)

(overlapping shouting)

(overlapping chatter)

(woman screaming)

(Scooter barking)

Scooter?

Come on, come on!

Come on!

(Scooter yipping)

Couldn't run away, could you, Scooter? Good boy.

(panting)

(police sirens wailing)

(guns clicking)

The fat lady sings.

(chuckling)

(cheering and whooping)

Come on!

(cheering and whooping)

(laughing)

♪ No matter how much more... ♪

Chloe Koen,

I'm gonna kiss you.

Please do, Mr. Canvendish Scott.

- (laughing) - Yes!

It's about time, son, about time.

(chuckling)

Hey, now you can afford to take me on a proper date.

You'd be lucky.

Now you're in trouble, son,

now you're in trouble.

Whoo!

I told you I'd sort it, Lil.

Ahh, I never doubted you for a minute, Victor.

(chuckling)

♪ And this is junkyard love ♪

♪ On the scrapheap of lust ♪

♪ Keep a furnace burning ♪

♪ Lest we turn into rust ♪

♪ This is junkyard love ♪

♪ On the scrapheap of lust ♪

♪ Keep the furnace burning ♪

♪ Lest we turn into rust ♪

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

There's still one more thing we need to sort out.

Who knows the way to Spain?

(cheering)

♪♪

We're going to Spain, baby!

Whoo!

(laughing)

♪♪

♪ Take a chance ♪

♪ Oh, come around and feel free ♪

♪ One more time, okay ♪

♪ Let me enrage your mind some ♪

♪ Inside I bleed ♪

♪ We'll feel the same ♪

♪ Let's get together, baby, forever ♪

♪ Let's together ♪

♪ Inside and say ♪♪

Sync and corrections by explosiveskull www.addic7ed.com

♪♪