All language subtitles for Black.Out.2012.Extended.720p.BRRip.800MB.MkvCage.com_23.976-resync (1)

- Hello?
- Hello, Mr. Vreeswijk.

- Hi, baby.
- Your last day as a bachelor, right?

Are you still alive,
or do you have a hangover?

I'm not sure
whether it was fun or not,

but we were picked up
by a disco taxi.

Know what I mean?

It fits eight people and...

... very loud music.

Jos? Hello?

I'll call you back, sweetheart.

Sweetie?

Most men are afraid to wake up
with a tattoo on their ass,

or a stripper in their bed
the morning before their wedding.

But we can't all be so lucky.

Ten years ago, I would have been
more relaxed about this.

In a town
where working hard comes first,

I tried to make a lot of money
with the least amount of energy possible.

I wasn't by myself.

With Bobbie and Inez,
we were a successful team.

Bobbie may not be
the sharpest knife in the drawer,

but a blunt knife can still work magic.

It's best to have
that fatso on your side.

Payday, asshole!

In short,
don't fuck with the fatso.

When were you going to pay?

A professional criminal to a tee.
- See you next week

- Takes his profit...
- Coming?

... and his losses.

Inez is a different story.

Inez... Coca Inez
is a coke connoisseur.

Although that's an understatement.

504.

If there were a Nobel Prize for cocaine,
Inez would get it every year.

Colombian mixed with...

Peruvian.

76% pure.

Not the kind of company
that gets you to a ripe old age.

So it was time for a new Jos.

Was everything to your satisfacion?

The new Jos pays his taxes.

The new Jos works for his money.

But, in the end, that's all rewarded.

Is there anything else you'd like?

Yes, you could kill my date.

Pardon?

You know, bam!
Just jam a knife through his heart.

His liver would acually
be more painful.

What is it with men these days?

I wouldn't know. I don't date men.

But I do know that the guy
who stood you up is a real jerk.

If there's anything I can do...

I don't think he's going to show up.

I'm waiting for someone else now.

But first this.

There are a thousand things
I could do,

but I can only
come up with one.

Phoning the police
isn't one of them.

Caroline.

This may not be
the most romantic moment,

but I woke up with this idea
and I thought...

Jos...?

Caroline, will you marry me?

Yes.

Rght. Lunch time.

Jos Vreeswijk?.

BYE

Vlad Omskorski.

In the Soviet Union,
he was a dancer in the Bolshoi Ballet.

But like all Russians,
he could use some extra pocket rubles.

It earned him the apt nickname;
Vlad "The Gay Basher" Omskorski.

Even ten years ago I made sure
I didn't get close to this freak voluntarily.

Vlad, what am I doing here?

I don't know what
you want from me, but I quit.

What are you talking about?

20 kilos?

You obviously know more than I do.

Listen, Vlad,
I've got a gap in my memory.

What is this bullshit
and what's it got to do with me?

It's got to be a misunderstanding.

Caroline van Eeghen.

36 years old.

36, brown eyes,

brown hair, 1.78 meters.

Westkade 35 D.

B. D.

If you so much as touch her...

I'd rather go alone.

- Is this your car?
- Yes.

- What's wrong with it?
- A nice mid-size, right?

It fits five people,
plus all my camping gear.

And you too.

Enough leg room, or no?

For sure. With room to spare.

Paid it off yet?

None of your goddamn business.

You're on a dead-end street.

Try to turn around.

Weren't you going to call me?

- Yes, sorry.
- Are you okay?

It's a madhouse. I'll be busy for a while.

Sweetie, did you pickup the rings?

Gee, Jos.

Okay, I'll do it. I'll drive over there.

Fuck.

- What?
- I thought I'd parked my car up front.

I have to go now, sweetheart.

No, sweetie...

It's a shame.

Hardly being able to reach your fiancé
the day before your wedding.

Oh, you mean "the crimninal".

Someone has to point it out.

As if all your boyfriends are kosher.

Bankers, lawyers.

The only thing I know for sure right now

is that I love him with all my heart.

Oh, so basically,

you could still find out
that he's a sadistic sex maniac

who's going to chop off your arms
and legs on your wedding night.

Who then abuses you for the rest of
your life, because you can't fight back.

You think?

Yes, mmaybe.

How well do you
actually know him?

I'd want to know about
his criminal activities.

I don't know half of it.

Honey, I don't want to be unkind, but...

are you sure about this?

Kind of late to ask.

You're still young. There are
so many nice men you can choose from.

- That's exactly what I did.
- Yeah.

I didn't steal that car.

So why don't you have
registration papers?

I can explain that.

Go get some coffee.

If you were wondering
why I didn't call the police before,

this is reason number 1 ;

André.

I know hemorrhoids
with a more likable personality.

Black.

- This is my arrest.
- Sure, son. It's your party.

Hold on.
You want something, Jos?

Yes. I want to leave.

- I thought you quit.
- I did.

But now you're
driving around in a stolen car.

One more time: I didn't steal that car.

I spent all night waiting in vain
for a shipment of coke.

And here you are sitting
in front of me.

Wrap it up. Quickly.

So?

Small world.

Rght?

Jos and I have known
each other for a long time.

Remember the last time you were here
because of that huge Surinamese guy?

I have no time
for a trip down memory lane.

- Do you mnind?
- Yes, I do.

It was at a snorting party.
Jos was hitting on some girl...

... when this giant Negro pointed out
that it was his girlfriend.

Can't you use a different term?

- For what? Negro?
- Yes, it's a slave term.

- So what term should I use?
- How about "man"?

- Exactly.
- He was a Negro.

Those Negroes call each other
"nigger" all the time.

- But why emphasize it?
- It was a Negro and a big one at that.

- You're the first Arab to object to that.
- A Berber.

- Berber?
- Yes, I'm a Berber.

Why didn't you just call him
a Surinamese?

That way, you don't insult anyone.

He's got a point.

Why don't you two just get a room
to suck each other's dicks.

Can I go on?

So our Jos finds himself face to face
with a much taller Harry Belafonte.

- Who?
- A Negro.

Continue.

Thank you.

So our Jos is on the floor
and Harry wants to finish him off.

But what does Jos do?

He stabs Muhammad Ali in the ass.

Stomma Steve.

- Never heard from him again.
- No.

Do you ever talk to Grandpa?

- I haven't.
- That's right. You quit, didn't you?

Probably haven't seen
Bob and Inez either.

Not for years.

You can go.

What?

The car hasn't been reported stolen
and we can't reach the owner.

I'm in the mniddle of an interrogation.

What do you know
about the missing coke, Jos?

- Fuck you, Dré.
- See you soon, Jos.

Fuck.

Rudolf van Eeghen,
successful lawyer,

but mainly Caroline's father,
so my soon-to-be father-in-law.

Get in.

Rudolf spends money like water.

And he's madly in love
with his Rolls Royce.

Clean your shoes.

Did you rat me out?

Rat you out?

What could I possibly
tell them about you?

You're going to call off the wedding.

No way in hell.

No?

On your knees.

Where'd you get these?

Make that call,
or I'll show these to the cops.

Where is that cocaine?

Cocaine?
What do you want with cocaine?

Where is it?

I don't remember anything.

Jesus.
Yeah, right, memory loss.

Call Caroline. Now.

Rudolf, mmaybe we should take these
into the station together.

And then you can give them
an explanation regarding that coke.

You'd be better off
explaining it to Charles.

Charles?

What do you have to do with Charles?

Very anti-social.

Shut your face.

Oh, and besides being Coca Inez,

she's also formerly Jos's Inez.

What the fuck are you up to?

He says he's got amnesia.

Shut up, you.

You two know each other?

Are you trying to screw Charles over?

Still pimping yourself here, I see.

- Why again?
- A: Because I felt like it.

B: I don't like the word "pimping".

C: You asked me that yesterday too.

What was I doing with you yesterday?

Seriously?

Do you really think I'd fall
for that amnesia trick?

I've really lost a few days.

Look who's here:
Grandpa's playmates.

And
the Hanging Gardens of Babylon.

Petra and Charity;

Charles's new-style
debt collection agency.

They're always the boss's sluts.
In every movie I've seen.

My replacements.
Except more attractive.

The thing is:
A woman is never the boss.

There are no women
at the top giving out orders.

So?

So, we watch Scarface
for the thousandth time

along with our little brother.

Fine. Great movie.
But for us there's just Michelle Pfeiffer.

And she hops from one guy to the next.

What kind of role model is that?

I mean, if they do something,
it's only for their husband or their child.

But never for their own career.

As if career women can't be mob bosses.

It's just bullshit.

Foxy Brown.

That was revenge.

What about Inez?

Please!

If I'm like that in 30 years,
or however old that bitch is,

promise me you'll blow my brains out.

Insert that fucking ticket, bitch.

No, no!

Someone is waiting for his money.

Someone who doesn't like waiting.

I'm nearly there. Honest.

You said that last time.
He said that last time.

- He said that last time.
- And the time before that.

Did you put it all
up your own nose, by any chance?

- 100 grand.
- Tomorrow.

Uma Thurman in Kill Bill.

- Revenge as well.
- Really?

No more waiting.
We'll do it today.

- What happened to your car?
- Where's that Hamid of yours?

He'll call. Relax...
You're acting like a cracker.

You need to learn
to get your business in order.

I called him but got his voicemail.
I texted him and emailed him.

I Facebooked him.
I even sent him a Tweet.

Gangsters don't Twitter.

Know what?
We'll do it without that lazy nigger.

No.

That store has got better security
than God knows what.

They have fucking bars and lasers.

I'll give you half.
Fuck Hamid.

Hamid knows where everything is.

We don't even know where the vault is.

There are other ways to find out.

Okay, okay.
If you say so.

Shit, what kind of dog is this?

A Shar Pei.

- What?
- A Shar Pei?

- Shar Pei.
- Shar Pei.

Look at this, friend.

With its tail up in the air.
Looks like a cat.

Where were we?

- Aren't you Jos?
- Yes.

- I thought you'd quit.
- Yes.

Grandpa's waiting for you.

Grandpa Charles, my old boss.

They don't make them
that stingy anymore.

To get old in this business,
you need balls as well as brains.

The average dictator looks like
a preschool teacher compared to him.

If you don't pay,
he ends your entire family tree.

You wouldn't be the first.

Look at you,
the perfect son-in-law.

You're here to bring 20 kilos.

Excuse me?

Should I have 20 kilos
of your coke, too?

Of course he's got it,
but he has amnesia.

Was I talking to you, cunt?

When grown-ups talk,
children shut up.

Got that?

What the hell am I doing here?

It looks like that Rolls will be mine.

What's up with all this cryptic bullshit?

Can you just tell me what I'm doing here?

Stop sucking ass,
because you're full of shit.

Can you wait out in the hallway?
And take Johnny Cochran with you.

All right.
So tell me what you're up to.

How often do I have to explain
that the past few days...

Shall I tell you what I know?

You were going to be here
this morning with 20 kilos of snow.

Zip.

I have someone pick you up.

But they only find your car.

Then Cochran tells me

you're chatting at the police station.

And then you breeze in here
with "No clue what's going on"

Sonny boy, what do you think that looks like?

I was at Vlad's this morning,

hoping I'd leave with at least one testicle.

He claims I stole 20 kilos from him, too.

Thank your father-in-law for that.

He still owes me.

If you take care of it,
I'll make this disappear.

Where did Rudolf get
those photos of Bob and me?

We had a deal, Grandpa.

I didn't get out for nothing, damn it.

The last thing you got out of
was your mother's drawer, but...

I'm not a bad guy.
I'll give you 24 hours

to show up with that 20 kilos of coke.

I'll take care of the dancing Russian.

Your meal, Mr. Vroon.

Ohh, Bobs got your car.

Yum, Wednesday. Goulash.

Good afternoon.

How often do I have to tell you
not to come here before five o'clock

when my grandma is still here?

Some respect for me and my grandma.

Right. Two small envelopes.

Grandmma!
Take that fucking Bouvier for a walk.

And go around the back. Okay?

I'll pay next time, okay?

Get off that fucking car!

You want me to set the dogs on you?

Go away!

Who do they think they are,
sitting on my baby?

- Thanks.
- One hundred.

Thank you.

Yes?

- Jos is on his way to you.
- Really?

- You'll take care of him?
- Will do.

- See you.
- Take it easy.

Where'd you get those photos?

Are we going to repeat
yesterday's conversation?

I got them anonymously

and they came in quite handy.

You're in deep shit, Rudolf.

How did you get into debt with Charles?

I don't have to answer to you.

- Are you going to call off the wedding?
- I could do that.

But then I'm gone.

And you just wait
and see what Charles will do to you.

Congrats, Rudolf. You're in.

And you'll never get out.

So now what?

Drive.

How'd his father-in-law get involved?

Future father-in-law.

Look, the Rat Pack's back together.

In full swing back in the coke business.

Shouldn't we find out
who the main supplier is?

Listen, I've been going after
that old asshole for 20 years.

Don't tell me how to do my job.

Maybe it's time
to go after someone else.

I've got the feeling
there's a bigger fish, Dré.

- That so?
- Yes.

If you're done with your feelings,

I'd like a pack of smokes.

It's me. I need some things.

Fuck off.

No time for shenanigans, Bobbie.

Shit man, you look old.

Don't we say "hello" anymore?

- Did you open it?
- I thought you quit.

- I did.
- Of course.

That's why that Russian's
boyfriend is in your trunk.

Does Charles know about this?

Would I ever rat you out?

How do you know he's Vlad's boyfriend?

And your jeweler, apparently.

Here. This was in his pocket.

Address?

We'll make them smaller for you.

I'll write it down.
Your own number is always tough.

I'll make sure this disappears.

Why kill your jeweler?

If they're too tight,
they can resize them.

I've got a complete gap in my memory.

No, he has a complete gap
in his memory.

You rip off some coke and suddenly
you can't remember where it is?

Are you going to nag or help?

I'll get a shovel.

What kind of hairdo do you want?
Mohawk? Mullet?

Listen, Hamid's still not answering.

No one knows where he is.

I told you not to do business
with Moroccans or fags.

And especially not when they're both.

When he sees two guns,
he'll give it up.

Listen, Steven Seagal,

Hamid knows where everything is.
We just have to walk in.

Work for your money for once.
You give niggers a bad rap.

Where are you going
to get those guns?

I've got everything under control.

You just take care
of the getaway car.

Or did you want to go in that?
Or in my piece of junk?.

And Björn, For once in your life,
No fuck-ups.

- What the fuck is this.
- I don't know, I...

Shit, Wally. You've got to be kidding!

- It was already like that.
- My fucking customers!

- You can't be serious, man.
- Is he sick or something?

So he won't be found here?

Protected environmental area.

Not a soul comes around here.
But there's all kinds buried here.

In fact, I think you're standing
on Hairy Jerry now.

Fuck off, man.

Let's bring out that stiff.

Like a glove.

Plant a garden and we're done.

So somewhere there's
20 kilos of coke

and you're the only one
who knows where.

Except you forgot.

It was Vlad's coke,
but it belongs to Charles now.

Can't you pinch a kilo?

- For an old friend.
- What do you think?.

- And what about this?
- You weren't going to rat me out, right?

All right. I'll see what I can do.

First take care of this shit.

I can use your help, Bob.

Oh no, not him.

Coca Inez.

Bob. The Mood Sponge.

For old time's sake.
You don't mind?

No, honey.

Nowadays, opium is
the religion of the people.

Amen.

Inez, do Bobbie a favor.

I need a lead: 20 kilos by tonight.

I don't think so,
two nights in a row.

I gave you a lead yesterday.
That should be enough.

If I still had that shit, yes.

Holy fuck,
I can't feel my head.

I'm touching it,

but I can't feel a thing.

Look, you'll get your share.
I just need to know where.

- Forget it.
- Two times your share.

Cheeks. Cheeks.

Two times your share.

I do know about a stash somewhere.

You should be able
to handle that one.

Where?

Do you know that railway bridge?

- Around the back.
- I've got it.

We just raid a police depot.

We ram it with a garbage truck.

Shoot all the pigs.

And swim in cocaine
for the rest of our life.

Have another snort, Bob.

- No thanks. I'm cool.
- Whose stash is this?

A guy called John.
Calls himself Gianni.

A new talent,
but kind of a poseur cowboy.

It's his first stash.

He keeps it in a furniture warehouse.

Rex.

Everything cool?

Sure. Everything's fine.

Have you seen anything suspicious?

Someone with binoculars,
or a van parked for too long?

- No, John, nothing.
- Excuse me?

It's "Gianni", okay?

- What are you reading?
- Nothing.

Is it interesting?

I wasn't really reading it.

Do you know what a Millwall brick is?

No.

No?

In the UK in the '70s, the security
in the arenas was stepped up.

At some point,
the police were wondering

why so many Millwall supporters

were always bringing a newspaper.

A fat newspaper with a lot of paper,
which they rolled up really tight.

And then the only thing you had to do...

was to fold it

to turn it into a weapon.

Maybe you didn't see anything
because you were reading the damn paper.

You fucking idiot!

Do you know why I put you here?

Because there's a fortune in snow in there.

All you have to do is to ensure we aren't
watched by the cops or other scum.

Hi, Mom.

No, I'm in the middle of a performance appraisal.

No, I'll be home for dinner.

There was a little dog.

It suddenly crossed the road.

Think so.

No, I'm fine.

Could I have a Coke, please?

Bob, whatever happens, no victims.

Calm down.

- I mean it.
- I'm just happy you're back.

What? I'm not back.

- Where's the key?
- Up your mother's cunt.

Really want me to search your pants?

You've no idea who you're robbing.

And you've no idea
who's robbing you, so we're even.

Fuck!

Goddamn it, what did I just tell you?

- Is he dead?
- Dunno.

It's your lucky day,
otherwise you'd had to french-kiss him.

Get off my car right this minute!

- Rudolf van Eeghen?
- I'm not asking you again.

Are you Jos Vreeswijk's father-in-law?

Who's asking?

They're not officially married yet.

Can you tell us what you were doing
at Charles Vroon's, a.k.a. Grandpa?

I'm his lawyer.
Therefore, it's none of your business.

True. But most people go to Grandpa
because they're in debt.

We offer help to people
who have debts of this nature.

I'm not talking about you.
You're a pillar of society.

But it would be a quick way
to get rid of trouble like that.

Did you pay that bush nigger a visit?

He'll pay tomorrow.

Tomorrow. It's always tomorrow.

When do we get paid, actually?

- Did I get my money yet?
- We don't work for free, Grandpa.

Then make sure
I get my money, goddamn it.

You've seen the movies.

Cut off a toe for every day he's late.

Sit on his ugly mug.
Shoot his dog.

Be creative, ladies.

André, this is nuts.

Are you going to cry like a girl
every time we make a move?

Yeah, whatever.
But legally speaking, we're screwed.

I'm not going to wait for two weeks
for a warrant

Rudolf probably knows the D.A.

I want to know everything about him.
What he earns, what he deals,

and whether he can still get it up.

Everything.

- I wouldn't know how.
- You're a lawyer, aren't you?

Shouldn't we decide on
a secret code word?

Secret code word?

In case of an emergency.

Rumpelstiltskin.

Rumpelstiltskin?

How do I use that in a sentence?

You don't need a code word.
We're pros.

If something goes wrong,
we'll be there in a second.

We're here.

Go on.

You and me, dude.
You and me.

- Don't get used to it.
- We're still the best.

Music.

Geez, you still play that?

Fuck.

Now what?

We wait until André's gone.

Boilermaker?

We have to stay sharp.

You're getting married tomorrow.

Regard it as a stag party.

A stag party from me to you.

Ladies, you'll never collect.

I have a business proposition for you.

It's actually more of a business
and private dilemma,

but you see,

I have a customer

who's interested
in a substantial amount of cocaine.

As your lawyer, I don't want you
to get into trouble, of course.

But privately speaking,

I could fulfill my obligations
to you much sooner.

Who is this man?

You're the person
to talk to, right?

This place is bugged.

Come closer.

Come closer.

Rumpelstiltskin!

Hi guys, come on in.

Grab yourself a drink.

Where is he?

- Where is he?
- What's going on?

One moment, ma'am.
Where is he?

Shouldn't we warn Charles?

I don't want to get mixed up in that.

Hey, Bob.

Don't bring that along, moron.

Of course not.

A bit more subtle, perhaps.

Just one.

Down the hatch.

Two more, Lucy.

Not for me. I'm fine.

Do you remember Wendy?

From Gerard?

I went there a while back
and that chick opens the door,

and the only thing
she had on was the radio.

What did you say?
I'm the cable guy?

Do you accept a debit card?

Holy shit! Gross!
The shells are still on them.

What kind of nuts are these?

Good thing you didn't grab an ashtray.

It's good to have you back.

- I'm not back.
- I love you, you know.

Do you still remember Barbara?

You've had quite a day, gentlemen.

- We do our best.
- Doesn't look like it.

First you raid a retirement home
without a warrant.

Then unauthorized use
of surveillance equipment.

Then you threaten a senile old man
as if he were a top crimninal.

Where do I find that stated
in your job description?

And a colleague complained that
you put one of his suspects under duress.

- He was an old friend.
- I don't care if he was Al Capone.

We have goddamn procedures
and you stick to them.

This is your last warning.

If there's so much as a complaint
about cutting in line at the coffee machine,

I'll put you on alcohol control
for the rest of the year.

Fine.

And Youssef's in charge.

Youssef's in charge?

- Dirty rat.
- Fuck off, man.

Couldn't you find something newer?

What's wrong with it?
It's a beauty.

Some new spoilers, tires.

It's a beautiful car.
Wonderful.

The seats are shit.

I know I've got a big ass,
but this is just uncomfortable.

It's not a good getaway car.

And what's that smell?

Is there a dead body in the trunk?

What's that smell?

Did you get these wheels
at the slaughterhouse?

Just off the street.

He's going to get married tomorrow.
Jos Vleeswijk.

Vleeswijk.
I hope she keeps her maiden name.

You already bought these?

- Yeah, man.
- You're not as stupid as you look.

Thanks.

Stop smiling,
this car is a piece of shit.

My fiancé was going to pick them up,
but he couldn't make it.

I don't see a box anywhere
with your name on it.

Look, I'm getting mmarried tomorrow.

Anyone can say that.

What kind of ridiculous remark is that?

It says here that Hamid delivered them
to your boyfriend yesterday.

Okay. And who on earth is Hamid?

My hopelessly absent colleague.

I talked to my fiancé this morning
and he knows nothing about it.

So perhaps your colleague
pocketed those rings?

That seems hardly
worth the trouble, madam.

Could I speak to your boss?

Now.

You wish to speak to me?

Oh man, please.
How complicated can this be?

I'm getting married tomorrow.
I need those rings.

I don't have them here, I...

The vault! Where's the vault?

You want me to freeze
or do you want me to open the vault?

Dude, what do you think?.

- Me, or I'll blow her brains out.
- The vault. Please.

The vault, douchebag.

Go, go, go.

Goddamn it,
what the fuck was that?

We should have waited
for that fucking Hamid.

Are you blamning me
for not having your shit in order?

What? Am I the one who's in debt?

Am I the one who's running
from a couple of bitches?

Shut up, man.

- And fuck these seats.
- What? fuck these seats?

It's always something with you.
I should have stayed in the salon

shaving dog balls or something.

What the fuck is this?

This is money, friend.

Can I stay with you tonight

Please...

- Inez, it's me.
- And?

I've got it, but Dré's
posting outside Grandpa's.

Okay. Come over to my place then.

- Okay, I'll do that.
- See you in a bit.

Bobbie, finish up.

Hold on a sec.

Mixed feelings

What if I had done it?

Sorry, honey,
I was going to call you back.

- Where are you?
- Still in the pub.

Stupid of me, but I forgot
I already had our rings.

Jos, I just got robbed.

The jeweler got robbed.

What? Are you okay?

Where is your car?

- Honey, I'll call you later.
- No, don't hang up!

- What's going on?
- I'll explain later.

Vlad, I...

Tonight?

You parked it here, right?

Oh, man.

How should I know?

They were wearing masks.

But they're blue,
so they won't be hard to find.

That lady saw them drive away.

No, they were already gone
when I got outside.

But you just said...

No, sorry.
I didn't see anything.

I know a guy.

He'll find any car within a day.

I don't give a shit about that car.

Everything's gone.

I'm such a retard.

That's probably Charles.

Jos Vleeswijk.

Who's this?

Doesn't matter. You lost something.
And you can buy it back.

I'm listening.

Five? Fifty?

Fuck that. 100 grand.

I can go somewhere else.

No, I'll arrange something.

Give me two hours.

Fine. In two hours,
parking garage South.

One minute later
and we'll have someone else.

- Bam, 100 grand.
- 500 grand.

- What?
- It's worth at least 500 grand.

- Call them back.
- I won't. They'll think we're amateurs.

You should have been more clear.
You're not clear.

We can't rob them, Bob.

Middle of the street.
Broad daylight.

Don't have to.

- There you go.
- Where'd you get this?

The Copyshop.

Who's going to fall for that?

Flour? I don't know, Wally.

Are you sure? Which loser
is going to fall for this?

By the time they find out,

we're in Business Class
with hot towels.

If you're fast,
they won't find out.

So...

So show them...

... and get out.

You fool them before you screw them.

In and out.

In and out.

- Fancy briefcase.
- Yeah, it was pretty expensive.

Is my eye still blue?

We don't ring the doorbell anymore?

Where's Jos?

If you ask me nicely,
I'll answer too, you know.

- Your boyfriend's talking to the Po-Po.
- Who's that?

The cops, the fuzz, the pigs, the heat,
the boys in blue, bacon, our city's finest.

In other words: the police.

And what do you want me
to do with this info?

I'd appreciate it if you could
deliver the following message to Jos:

Dear Jos,

we dropped by
because we needed a judge for a...

... blow-job contest.

Unfortunately, you weren't home.

That's why you're a fag and a rat.

With love, Petra and Charity.

Tell him Charles is looking for him.

We've already got his father-in-law.

Hand it over and get out.

This is never going to work.

Should I come with you?

I got it.

Jos Vleeswijk?.

Something like that.

Cool wheels, man.

Is it all there?

There, too?

Have a nice day tomorrow.

I'm going to deliver the money.

When I get back, we sell this shit.

And tomorrow we are gone.

Fuck that debt, man. Let's keep this.

Charles will find you, my friend.

Let's go.

That went fine, right?

I know that guy.

Sorry, but I have to take a dump.

Listen, Charles's two bimbos were here.

Charles thinks
you're talking to the police.

How come?
Because the cops are at his place?

You're not fucking with me, are you?

- Why would I?
- No idea.

But your visit to the station,

and the fact you're
so secretive about yesterday.

Well, that...

leaves some things unanswered.

- Especially for Charles.
- Yeah, whatever.

There's too much at stake for me.

- I don't want any hassle.
- Then keep an eye on Bobbie.

Is it any good?

Incredibly pure.

Good.

Too bad it's flour.

Ah, Kunta Kinte finally shows up.

I've no idea who that is,
but I'm here to pay you.

How come your people
are so rhythmic,

yet you're always late?

Is this a joke?

People who pull these kinds of tricks
on me and who are late with payments

frequently wonder
whether or not there's life after death.

Sorry. I'll take care of it.
Tonight.

The voicemail of Rudolf van Eeghen.

Please leave a message
after the tone.

Hi, Dad, it's me.
Could you call me?

I can't find Jos
and he switched off his phone.

I was just robbed, or...

Anyways, long story.

Call me.

Filthy skank.

Goddamn it!

No, not you.

- Sorry, who is this?
- It's me.

- Who?
- Wally.

Okay.

I have something for sale
your boss mnight find interesting.

Sitting on your lazy fucking ass.

And keeping your eyes peeled.
That's all you have to do here.

- Sorry, John.
- Gianni!

- My name is Gi-a-nni.
- I'm sorry.

Sorry schmorry, Rex...
Know what I'm going to do?

I'm going to shoot this entire Bible

in Morse code, at 220 volts,
through your ass.

Where shall I begin?

Revelation.

R...

E...

I found them.

That fast?

They wanted a buyer for 20 kilos.

- How much did they steal?
- 20 kilos.

God loves you, son.

Those white beaches will have to wait.

What?

That fucking Vleeswijk.

What are you talking about?

Don't worry. I'll explain later.

This hustler found us a buyer already.

So this is Gianni's stuff?

No.

Something came up.

I don't even know what to say.

I screwed up everything.

I don't deserve her.

Come on. You're a good guy, Jos.

Right? Just not
in the world she comes from.

I have to answer this.

No, no, no.

Do it later.

Just relax..

We'll solve this together.

Where's that stuff from yesterday?

You ripped off Vlad's boyfriend.

And then?

Well?

- What's the address?
- I'll write it down.

Your own number is always tough.

I didn't shoot that guy.

I still had that stuff with me in the car.

Besides you and me,
who else knew what I was up to?

Well, Charles of course.

Quality stuff?

Throw in an egg and some mnilk
and you'll have a delicious pancake.

- It's flour, Bob.
- What?

Flour.

You said you knew that guy, right?

Yes.

- Which one of you is Wally?
- Me.

Do you have an eye infection?

There you go, asshole.

Here. Just like the old days?

There we go, Bob.

- Something in your pockets?
- No.

Hi, baby.

- Prick!
- Behave, okay.

I thought she was my girlfriend.
You look just like her.

Sorry. I'm so embarrassed.

I've got her number.

Yes, yes.

Mom, I have to go.

Love you too.

Bye, bye.

Well...

Welcome.

I believe you have
something for me.

Oh, no, no, hold on.
No, that's not it.

You have something
that belongs to me.

Relax, man.

A guy walks into a bar
with a parrot...

I don't know the rest
of the joke, but I do know

that your mother is a fucking whore

who's going to bury
your black ass tomorrow.

Do you think I'm stupid
or something?

I will not let myself
be robbed by a dog walking service,

only to buy it back.

It's a dog grooming salon.

We groom dogs.

What?

It's a dog grooming salon.

Bob, stay here.

What kind of fucking pills
are you on?

Well?

But if you and your fuck buddy enjoy
hanging from the rafters at Macy's

with each other's balls
in your mouth, that's fine,

but I think you're going to calmly
drop that bag down and kneel down.

- Now what, friend?
- No, no, no.

Give him that fucking bag.

Hey guys, can everybody stop
drawing their weapons?

Just give him that fucking bag.

Since when do you have a shotgun?

Since tonight.

Would have come in handy
this afternoon, wouldn't it?

Hey, buddy! 500 grand.

We want 500 grand.

- We don't want anything, except to go home.
- Just shut up.

500 grand?

That shit is worth at least
twice that much, you know.

In that case we want a million.

Million?

What's wrong with you? Give him the bag.

- Put. Down. That. Fucking. Bag.
- Fuck you.

- No, fuck you.
- Fuck you.

- Fuck all of you.
- Fuck you, man.

Fuck all three of you.

- Fuck you, friend.
- Fuck you. Give him the bag.

- My dick in your piehole, okay?
- Fuck you. Plus one.

- Always fuck you once more than you.
- Fuck you twice more.

How did you pull that off so fast?

I have no idea.

Oh, man.

Do you think I'm going to let you walk
with half a million in snow?

You can't buy happiness, my friend.
You have to steal it.

Is it because I didn't invite you
to my wedding, Bobbie?

Fuck your wedding.

Just get out.

And leave the keys in the car.

Just get out of the car, Jos.

That way nothing bad will happen.

If you were going to shoot me,
you'd have done so already.

I'll do it.

Then you'd better be fast.

'Cause I won't let go of that bag.

Are you willing to take the risk?

Dirty rat.

I did eight years for you, my friend.

A bit of gratitude would be in order.

If you ever need my help, Bobbie,

just give me a call, okay?

And now fuck off.

Up yours, Jos.

Yes. I'm looking for the number
of a bowling alley.

What are you doing here?

Are they gone?

My God. Did you...?

Mr. Vreeswijk.

Did they call you?

3 is a beautiful age.

- We'll all really miss him.
- Yeah.

He would have
appreciated you comning by.

Thank you.

Now what?

I'm going bowling to clean up this shit.

But first we go to your place
for those pictures.

Should I phone Jos?

The deal was 10 kilos, right?

No, no, no, no!

Honey, it's me.

They just called to say
that Charles is dead.

- What a pity, right?
- What happened to the merchandise?

I'm on my way to Vlad.
He's got Caroline.

Okay. Be careful.

By the way, Bobbie tried
to screw me over. You were right.

- We were called.
- You as well?

- What do you mean "as well"?
- Mr. Vreeswijk was just here...

with that classy gentlemman.
Just for a bit. They went bowling.

I thought:
Why go bowling at this hour?

But whatever floats your boat, right?

My condolences!

Only the detectives
that are involved, André.

And you guys take all the credit?

Dré! Five bodies and not an ounce
of coke. There's nothing for us here.

Instinct. Never heard of it?

In charge. Ever heard of that?

Are you going to stop me?

Piece of shit.

Sorry, Jos.

I'll make sure this disappears.

Who is this?

This is Inez. An ex of mine.

Always awkward, isn't it?

- So you gave those photos to Rudolf?
- Come on, Jos.

This is not a movie
where they explain everything at the end.

What has my father got to do with this?

Ah, look.

So this is the girl of your dreams?

Remarkable.

- Where's that coke?
- Over there.

Watch it, okay.

- Coke?
- It's all right.

This is Gianni's coke.

Where's Vlad's coke?

Oops. Sorry.

Fucking hell.

Are these exes of yours too?

You know what happens
to people who talk to the police, right?

That was Rudolf, not me.

And we're supposed to believe that?

Just like that blackout of yours?

You don't need to do this.

Grandpa's passed away.

Yes, that's true.

But, ah well.
Let's call it a matter of honor.

Leave her out of it.

How noble. Beautiful.

There's 20 kilos of snow.

That's some nice change.

Take me.

Take my car.

What kind of car?

Shots reported fired at a bowling alley.

I worry about more important things.

Good for you, but it might be related.

Related to your lack of insight, yes.

Whatever. Bye.

Can you be a bit careful, Columbo.

Maybe yes, maybe no,
maybe you should shut the fuck up.

Maybe you should look elsewhere
for that pot of gold.

This may sound weird, old man,
but this here is a police investigation.

You're in the way.

André Klinkhamer.

Good evening.

If you want to call it off...

This is honestly
the most rommantic thing

anyone has ever done for me.

Honestly...

You look terrible.

You don't.

Are they all... dead now?

I'm assumning we're even now.

Right?

Almost, Rudolf.

Almost.

Old Jos has lost
all his old acquaintances.

New Jos doesn't have
a tattoo on his ass.

But a Rolls Royce right under it.

Really? Gosh.

Ohh, Dad. Geez. This is great!

Bye, Dad.

Bye, Dad.

Like I said, We can't all be lucky.

I just don't think it's very classy.

Aim that thing somewhere else.

Any housewife can pull a trigger.

Goddamn it, fucking bitch.

Give it to me.

- It was an accident.
- Yeah, right.

RECORD DRUG BUST
BOWLlNG ALLEY

You get the next one, Dré.

Police control.
Got something on you?

You just chucked it out the car, right?

Jos...