All language subtitles for Peaky.Blinders.S06E01.1080p.BluRay.DD+5.1.x264-SbR

You've both met bad men before.

The man we're about to meet
is the devil.

My name's Mosley.
Oswald Mosley.

You've come to my attention.

Michael Gray.

You lost all your cousin's
money in America,

playing the fool.

And poor old Arthur Shelby.

His wife has been seen
with another man.

Ah!

May you Peaky Blinders all rot.

If you're going to England,
I'm coming with you.

- I want to meet your family.
- No, you don't.

Mr Thomas,
it is the purest opium

that has ever arrived
in Europe.

£250,000.

All we have to do
is keep it here for a week.

I vote against it, Tom.

Those in favour?

Motion carried.

Agh!

We're talking about
an empty chair, Ada.

My chair. My throne.

Someone wants my crown.
I think it might be Michael.

Mr Shelby, my name
is Captain Swing.

Michael, your kin,

was making deals

with the very men
who want you dead.

I'm doing this for you, Tommy.

It's time.

And you know it.

Let me guess.

Don't fuck
with the Peaky Blinders.

There will be a war,
and one of you will die.

But which one, I cannot tell.

I'll do what I have to do, Pol.

Kill...and kill.

I have a job for you.

I'm going to shoot
Oswald Mosley.

Kill the man, kill the message.

I think it's about time
we got off the stage, old man.

The Chinese, the Italians...

Mosley knew nothing!

He knew nothing!

Who?!

Talk to me.

Maybe I've found him...

...Arthur,
the man I can't defeat.

- Mosley.
- I don't know.

I don't fucking know.

Doesn't make sense.

Let's...

Let's go inside.

We'll work it out,
have a drink.

I need to walk.

The work's all done, Tommy.

It's all done.

We can walk away
from all of this.

It's so easy. It's so soft.

Such a small change.

Arthur took the bullets out.

On the way back.

He said you stopped
at a crossroads to throw up.

You're not even a soldier
any more, Tommy.

You didn't check your weapon.

You're not a soldier,
you're a coward.

I heard you pull the trigger.

Leaving your family behind
without a goodbye...

If you still need a way out...

...here are six of them.

Mother.

They let you pass through.

They wouldn't let me pass.

As if there were to be
another consequence.

Hello?

Mr Shelby, I imagine
you're curious

as to who it was prevented
the assassination last night.

If you look out your window,
you'll see a flag of truce.

It's a unit of volunteers

bringing the bodies
of your dead to you,

to send to heaven
in your own way.

Last night's operation

was carried out by soldiers
from three Dublin brigades

of the Irish Republican Army.

We need to keep
Mr Mosley alive.

That's all you need to know.

Also, you should know
that saving Mosley's life

wasn't our only intervention
last night.

We've made some changes

to the structure
of your organisation.

Ever since you began
to build your empire...

...you've had a crutch
to lean on.

Last night, we kicked
away that crutch.

From now on, it will be us
that you lean on.

Please be aware, Mr Shelby,

that the deaths
of your people...

...are your own
responsibility...

..because you consistently fail
to understand

your own limitations.

Mum...

...it was the ambitions
and strategies

of one man that caused this.

And I swear in the name
of Almighty God...

...no matter what it takes,

no matter how many lies
I have to tell...

...I will take revenge on
Tommy Shelby.

Monsieur.

Monsieur!

J'arrive.

You want a drink?

I'll have a glass of water,
please.

Windows got broke

because a lot of people here
are drunk and angry.

You know?

Half the men on this island
made their living

bootlegging till today.

The other half
fixed their boats.

Maybe you should take
your water into the hall.

Yeah, I learned
a lot of things in France.

Island is crawling with
you fucking commissary men.

Closing our warehouses down.

Throwing men out of work.

Ten years our boat ran whiskey

down the President Roads
to Boston.

Now we have fucking nothing.

And you sit in front of us
and order fucking water.

Is that meant to be a joke?

No.

I ordered water

because I no longer
drink alcohol...

...of any kind.

You, my friend...

...are going to drink a toast.

You will raise your glass to
the poor people of Miquelon,

whose lives you bastards
have destroyed.

Drink it.

Hey.

Drink.

You're not leaving this bar

until you have raised a toast
to the people of Miquelon.

OK.

OK.

I understand that,
today of all days,

you would be angry.

But if you'd have read my card
instead of burning it,

you would realise

that this
is a misunderstanding.

Now, I've been very patient,
given the circumstances,

but you need to sit down
and let me read my newspaper.

Il est bon, lui, hein?

Before this goes any further,
please let me explain.

I will not drink your toast,

cos four years ago,
I forswore alcohol.

Putain.

No.

- Don't.

Since I forswore alcohol,

I've become a calmer
and more peaceful person.

Get in.

Sometimes,

in moments
of personal conflict...

...I can resort to my old ways.

If this were to happen now,

it would indeed be a black day
in Miquelon.

Now, my guests
will be arriving shortly.

I need to prepare the room.

Can you show me where?

Excusez-moi.
Où est L'Hôtel Robert?

They think we're distillery men
here to take our whiskey back.

We're late. He's always early.
Let's go.

There will be a war,
and one of you will die.

But which one, I cannot tell.

Hello, Tommy.

There's a man out there having
his face stitched back up.

That was a misunderstanding.

Hello, Michael.

I wasn't sure what I'd think
when I saw you again, Tom.

Oh, yeah?

What do you think?

Since my mother
passed away four years ago,

Tommy and I
haven't even spoken.

Well,
we've both been very busy.

You've been too busy to punish
the people who killed her.

You know, Michael,

when you're dealing
with a very powerful enemy,

taking revenge
sometimes requires time.

You have to...

...pick your moment.

That moment will come.

But now we have
a business interest in common,

and any bad blood will be
diluted by time

and a practical self-interest.

Well, Tommy, we're all keen
to hear what you have to say.

I'm very much looking forward

to working with you again,
Michael. You look very well.

You too.

How is the family?

Yeee-haaaw!

This projector is a gift
from Charlie fucking Chaplin,

and he sent it all
the way from Hollywood.

Now sit down
and watch the film.

Oh, God. No.
Elizabeth, Elizabeth,

don't do that,
you're going to hurt yourself.

Yes, hi.
Is that the Bell Tavern?

If there's a Gypsy in there
called Johnny Dogs,

can you tell him to come
and round up his fucking kids?

It's Christmas.
A time for family.

Mum, I was watching that.

OK, everyone, OK.

When's he coming?

We're having
this Christmas party early

because tomorrow,

me and Charles and Ruby
are going on a big ship

to Canada,
to be with their daddy.

But we told Father Christmas
about the party...

...and he brought
you all presents!

- Oh!
- Yes!

Race you!

Ada, where the fuck
is Father Christmas?

I don't know.

He was supposed to be here
by now.

Yeah.

Where the fuck are you, Santa?

Ohhh! Ohhh!

Ugh!

No!

Ugh!

You've got me!

I've got a gun.
You'd better run!

- You'd better run!

Gentlemen, today is
the last day of Prohibition.

But rather than see it
as the end of something,

I believe that,
for men like us,

it can present...

...a new beginning.

A new opportunity.

An opportunity
I would like to share

with people I know I can trust.

For the last 12 years,

the men of this island

have been making their living
from bootlegging whiskey,

from navigating the waters

and avoiding
American border patrols.

But now that whiskey is
about to become legal,

the trade will fall
back into the hands

of capitalists from New York,
Boston and Toronto.

But...

...when one door closes...

...another one opens.

We can take advantage
of the systems

that are in place
on Miquelon Island

and offer selected boat crews

the opportunity
to carry on working.

But this time
with a different cargo.

You want me to pour?

No.

Now it's all over
the fucking island.

This is an island with
no morals and no opinions -

just a load of fucking boats

with nothing to carry
and nowhere to go.

The reason why Miquelon
was used to run whiskey

in the first place

is cos it sits outside
the territorial waters

of both America and Canada.

Technically,
it's French territory.

The FBI, the RCMP
have no jurisdiction.

Where do you get this stuff?

I have established

a supply chain
over the last four years

with associates in Belfast.

We decided it was time to
break into the American market.

That, my friend,

is the finest opium
in the world.

Delivered to my warehouse
in Liverpool

directly from Shanghai.

Michael...

When it comes to this shit,
you're the expert.

I trust him.

What about the French police?

I have been in communication

with the Miquelon Prefet
des Gendarmes.

We fought in two of the
same battles in France.

We consider each other
comrades.

I have offered my comrade
12 million francs

if the boats between Miquelon
and Boston keep running.

We will have to take
your proposal

to Uncle Jack in Boston.

Perhaps we can meet

after you've spoken
with Uncle Jack, Michael,

who I believe
is your wife's uncle,

Jack Nelson.

Hey!

The guy knows things
that can get him killed,

and he says them out loud.

I have a high regard
for Mr Nelson.

He has a history
not unlike my own.

Jack Nelson's past
is forgotten.

Not forgotten. Fucking gone.

No, not gone,

just erased from the records,
like my own.

Give him my regards, will ya?

You haven't touched your drink,
Tom.

You know, since we last met,
Michael...

...well, I've become
a better man.

I now realise that whiskey
is just fuel

for the loud engines
inside your head.

Catch yourself on!

What is this guy,
a fuckin' poet? Eh?

Oh, I do read poetry,
but I don't yet write it.

They say the fog
is going to get worse.

We'd better get off this island
before it traps us here.

Just understand -

Uncle Jack decides everything,
OK?

And I decide
when a meeting is over.

So sit down till I say.

Maith fear.

Put some fuckin' hair
on your chest, huh?

Good boy.

Now, give us all a poem
before we go.

Want to hear a poem?

Want to hear a poem?

What about you, Brainbox?

I was angry with my friend

I told my wrath

My wrath did end

I was angry with my foe

I told it not

My wrath did grow.

It's from The Poison Tree
by William Blake.

You won't have heard of him.

Meeting over.

Oh, and by the way,

my friend,
the Police Commissioner,

told me that he'd spoken to
his FBI liaison officer,

and he told him

that there is an informant

in your organisation
in South Boston.

I tell you this

in the spirit
of corporate hygiene.

Here you are, Michael.

Beware the man
with a bleeding heart tattoo...

...with "Maria" written in red.

Have a good day, gentlemen.

This time, don't burn it.

Arthur...

Come on, come on.

God.

Oh, God,
if Polly was still here,

she'd never have let it
get this bad.

Come on. Come on, Arthur.

Arthur!

I am not Polly,

but I am still
your fucking sister.

You swore to me
you would stop using.

It's Christmas Day, Ada.
Christmas Day.

Yes, it's Christmas.

So where the fuck
are the fucking presents?

I'll be all right in a bit...

Great.

My brother
off his face on junk.

- Every day,

there's a question
without an answer.

A leak without a bucket.

Me without a clue what to do.

Fuck.

I love you, Ada.

Children!
Father Christmas has been!

Father Christmas!

What did you ask for?

- What have we got?

Father Christmas got stuck up
the chimney again, did he?

Mm.

What ship are you on tomorrow?

Oh, the best,
the most expensive one.

And then we'll get there,

and Tommy will say,

"Hello, Lizzie.

"Hello, children,"
in that dead voice.

Come on, Lizzie,
he'll be on holiday.

Being away might change him.

Even on holiday, Ada,

even on top
of a rocky mountain,

he'll be the same way
he's been since Polly died.

No more Polly...

...no more whiskey,

no more Tommy.

Yeah, I'm calling
from Miquelon Island,

from the police station.

There is a boat leaving
the island now,

heading across the border.

When it docks at St John's,

a man named Michael Gray
will board a ferry to Boston.

Listen very carefully.

He's wearing a dark coat,
a blue suit

and carrying a black briefcase.

Inside the briefcase

is five pound
of pure, refined opium.

Concerned citizen.

Yeah, my name is Mr Jones.

Yes, I do.

But I don't drink any more.

I have business.

I need to get off this island.

You shouldn't be in here, Karl.

Are you going to answer it?

No, I don't work for him
any more.

It might be important.

That's why I don't
want to answer it.

Can I answer it?

No.

Hello?

Mm-hm.

Fuck.

Do you know who this man is?

All right, come on, Arthur.

Hiya...

Hey, that tickles.

His brother, Thomas Shelby,

says don't serve him opium
ever again,

or someone will write

Arthur Shelby's name
on your chest

with a bayonet.

So...what the fuck?

I can't talk about anything
in here.

I just wanted to see your face
and smell your perfume.

Tommy Shelby steps back
into your life and, right away,

this is what happens?

No names in here.

Sorry. Let's just call him
the devil.

Take a seat.

How is Laurence?

Oh, you know.
Missing his father.

What the fuck happened,
Michael?

- It's in hand.
- Whose hand?

No, really.

Whose fucking hand, Michael?
Hmm?

Like everything else
in this city,

it's in the hand
of your Uncle Jack.

I need him to get the charges
lifted and get me out of here.

I already talked to him.

He told me
what the devil proposed.

Tommy Shelby wants to do
business with Jack Nelson?

He wants to take on Boston?

No-one is taking on anyone.

It's in hand.

There are deals being made
at a high level,

but there are some people
at the middle level

and lower levels
who cannot be trusted.

Michael,

- this sounds fucking...
- Shut up and listen.

It was Tommy himself
who warned us of the informant.

We're guessing
that the informant

was the one that tipped off
the police about me.

Then the devil's plan
has already begun.

What's the point
of ships and planes

if you can't get away?

Gina, in today's paper,
you will read about a man

being fished out
of the Boston Harbour

with a bleeding heart tattoo

and the name "Maria"
written on his arm.

Single shot to the head.

Yeah, I know,
I read it already.

His death will lead to others.

For this business to work,
we must only use men we trust.

And while the clean-up
is being carried out,

you must keep things
to yourself.

You talk loose to anyone,
it'll be me in the harbour

and you'll be the Maria
with the bleeding heart.

Do you understand?

Michael, I just want the truth.

No, fuck that -
I need the truth!

Why are you doing business
with him again?

Gina,
tell me what you're thinking

of getting Laurence
for Christmas.

There are plenty of men
who can supply powder

all over the world -
I don't understand

why it needs to be him.

Some of my business

with Tommy Shelby
is unfinished.

This is my opportunity
to finish it.

So speak to your uncle and
get me the fuck out of here.

- Oh!

Hello?

Who?

Sure.

Why the hell not?

I heard you were in town
and I thought, "Well, hey."

Little man
hitting the big time.

You like jazz?

No.

What do you want? Whiskey?

Water.

I don't have any water.
What else do you want?

I have a message
for your Uncle Jack.

Tommy, relax.

Have a fucking drink.

You know my uncle's planning

on buying the
United States import licence

to all the best Scotch
and Irish whiskey distilleries.

He's on his way to London
right now to make those deals.

Every drop in every state

will be another dime
for Uncle Jack.

Yeah.

He's a very powerful,
very impressive man.

I've only seen photographs -

when he was young,
police mug shots,

and, more recently,
in high-society magazines.

I think
this represents progress.

Yeah.

And before you tell me
what you want me to tell him,

I have a message
from him to you.

No deal.

Hmm.

In England, when someone gets
this close to Tommy Shelby,

it's, oh, the horror.

Oh, the desire...

...to fall on your knees,
open your mouth and say,

"Yes, sir.

"Please, sir."

So it's Uncle Jack
you fall on your knees for, eh?

Not Michael.

He says no deal, Mr Shelby.

You smell of jail, Gina.

- And you drink too much.

Yes, but booze is legal.

Your white powder's not.

Jack has friends
in the government now.

Do you have any idea
how far he's risen?

All the way to the fucking top.

Can't have white powder
on his shiny black boots

when he's on his way

to meet the President
of the United States

cos, yeah,

that's where he goes now.

So he can't really be
taking such a big risk

on such a little deal.

Go home, boy.

Bye-bye, Mr Shelby.

Yeah, you have another whiskey,
Gina.

Another dime for Uncle Jack.

You mind if I smoke?

If it's legal, it's OK.

Before I go...

...you should know...

...that it was me

who tipped off
the border police

about the contents
of Michael's suitcase.

I'm the reason he's in jail.

I wanted to give your uncle
a dilemma.

His favourite niece's
husband...

...banged up in Boston...

...for smuggling opium.

What does he do?

If he intervenes
and has him released,

how will that play
in the Oval Office?

If he does nothing,

how does that play
in South Boston?

Oh, fuck you.

Fine.

Stay here.

Deal here.

Die here,
for all I fucking care.

Die at whose hand, Gina? Eh?

My message to your uncle
is this.

If he doesn't want
to buy my opium,

I will sell
to the East Boston Jews.

Oh, baby.

Do you want to start
a fucking war?

With that amount of opium,

the balance of power
between the Irish,

the Jewish and the Italians

would shift heavily
in favour of the East.

I have excellent contacts

with the family
that runs East Boston.

The Solomons family.

Maybe you've heard of 'em?

Once you people have accepted

that you must treat us
as equals...

...then I think our families
will work together very well.

Have a good day, Gina.

Yep?

Yes, I'll accept the call.

Hello, Lizzie.

Tommy...

It's Ruby. She's not well.

She's got a temperature of 101.
Doctor's just left.

What did he say?

He says he thinks it's flu,

but he's going to come later
to check on her.

She's been coughing and...

Tommy, he said it's not
a good idea for us to travel.

We can't board that ship
to Boston today.

That's all right, Lizzie,
don't worry.

Don't worry, you just stay
there for now

and get her better and, er...

Can I speak to her?

She's sleeping.

Yeah, well, let her sleep.

Let her sleep.

Lizzie, I've a bit more
business to do here.

Look, you just book
a new passage

when Ruby's feeling better.

It doesn't matter if you don't
get here for Christmas,

just as long as you get here,
right?

And then I'll get
this business done,

you get here
with the children...

...and then no more.

And it'll just be us
and the clean air

out in the West.

I've found a place
in the mountains.

There'll be snow.

Tell Ruby... Tell Ruby
I'll build her a snowman.

Hmm.

How long has she been coughing?

A few days.

She's been out running wild
with Johnny Dog's kids,

out in the cold by the river.

Are you OK, Tommy?

Your voice,
it sounds different.

It's just cold.

I'll get this business done
in Boston...

...and that'll be
the end of it.

And then I just want to...

...I just want to pick Ruby up

and hold her in my arms,
y'know?

I miss the weight
of carrying her.

I gave her her presents early.

She loves them.

But last night,
she was burning up.

She was delirious.

She kept talking.

Johnny's kids have been
teaching her to speak Gypsy.

Teaching her to rob and steal,
more like.

Yeah.

When she was delirious,

she kept saying
these Gypsy words, er...

"Tickner maura,
tickner maura, o beng, o beng, "

over and over again.

What? Lizzie, what...?

What did you say?
What did Ruby say?

Tickner, tickner maura.

- Something like that.
- Did she say any...

Did she say any other words
that you didn't understand?

"O beng, o beng." I don't know.

No, Lizzie, did she say
any other words in Romany?

Fucking listen to me!

I don't know Romany words,

Tommy. I don't think so.

Just "tickner maura"
and "o beng"?

Yes.

Could she see anything
when she was burning up?

- What could she see?
- Oh, fuck.

Lizzie, please, just answer
the fucking question!

She said she could see a man.

A man with green eyes.

She was delirious.

She was burning up.

What the fuck is the matter?

All right, listen, Lizzie,

- I'm coming home.
- Tommy,

- it's just a fever, love.
- Listen to me.

I'm coming home. I'll be
on the next steamer back.

You keep her out of school.
You hear me?

You keep her out of school,
you keep her away from...

- Tommy...
- Keep her away from the river.

Don't let her ride a horse
or go near a horse.

Tell Johnny Dogs and his wives

the words
that Ruby has been saying.

Do you hear me?
Tell Johnny's eldest wife

to put a Black Madonna
around her neck.

You listen to Esmeralda

the same way you listen
to a fucking doctor.

You hear me?

Fucking Gypsy stuff.

Yes, it is Gypsy fucking stuff,
Lizzie! Yes, it fucking is!

- And you get Curly there.

Tell him to stay in the stable
with Ruby's horses.

And you do everything

that Johnny Dogs
and his wives fucking tell you.

Do you understand me?

I'm sorry, Lizzie.
Do you understand?

OK!

I'll do it.

All right, I'm coming home.

Polly?

Polly?

They know
I'm trying to get out.

Pol...

...they're coming for me.

You son of a fucking bitch.

You sound American, Michael.

I have to go back
to England early.

Let's make this quick, eh?

You just fuck people up
and you run away.

No, this business
will continue.

Jack Nelson is also travelling
to England.

To London and to Edinburgh,
to buy import licences.

How the fuck do you know
where Jack Nelson's going?

Well, I have copies
of his itinerary.

Of his personal correspondence.

Letters from the President
of the United States,

and his many mistresses.

I have contacts
in his organisation.

An Irishman with a mortgage is
a powerful resource, Michael.

You're dead, Tommy.

You're out
of your fucking depth.

You're dead already.

You threatened
to sell to the Jews.

And I have contacts
in this prison.

These boys here will look
after you during your stay.

I don't need your fucking
people to look after me.

Jack Nelson's getting me
out of here.

Oh, yeah?

Is he?

This is a letter.

Here, give him this letter,
will ya?

This is a letter

from the President's
personal secretary,

suggesting Jack Nelson keep you
in here for a while longer.

Just until the press
lose interest, Michael.

Fuck you.

You'll be released eventually.

And then you can execute
your business with me...

...as before.

Our business being $5 million
for a shipment of powder.

And when the exchange is done,
we can shake hands

and go our separate ways
once more, eh?

So, you didn't learn.

When my mother died
at the hands of your ambition,

you didn't learn
your limitations.

I have no limitations.

Oh, and by the way, Michael...

...according to Jack Nelson's
personal accounts,

he bought passage
for five people

from Boston to Liverpool.

Five people - his wife,
his mistress,

President Roosevelt's son,
himself...

...and Gina Gray.

Gina's coming to London,
Michael...

...where I will be happy
to show her the sights.

Fuck! You fucking bastard,
Tommy!

- Spirits, Boston Irish...
- You're the devil!

- ...and Uncle Jack.
- You're the fucking devil!

I'm ready for the conversation.